“What do you think of Hell, Gloom?” said the priest. “Are you looking forward to going back there?” He was wearing a full suit of armour, like a knight from the days of King Arthur, with a cross, complete with a crucified Christ, embossed on the chest plate. He was holding the helmet under one hand, and in the other he was holding a massive broadsword.

     “You're a killer, Anthony Carter,” said Gloom, taking a step towards him. “What are you doing in Heaven?”

     “Nothing done in the service of God can be sinful.”

     “Not even the murder of an innocent young woman? A woman who'd never hurt anyone in her life?”

     “If she was innocent she dwells in Heaven now. She may even be among my colleagues, gathered here to stop you.” He looked around at the other blessed souls as if expecting her to step forward and Gloom found himself hoping she would. What a meeting that would be!

     They were both to be disappointed, but some of the armoured souls gathered beside the priest turned out to be women and one of them removed her helmet, black hair spilling out, as she turned to face him. “Is that true?” she demanded. “You killed an innocent woman?”

     “There were special circumstances,” replied Father Anthony, “And the fact that I stand here beside you tells you that God agrees with me. Do not make the mistake of questioning His judgement.”

     “You broke the first commandment!” roared Gloom. “Thou shalt not kill!”

     “That's the sixth commandment, you idiot,” replied Anthony.

     Gloom slapped his forehead with his palm. “Ah yes, You’re right. What was the first commandment then? Ah yes, Thou shalt have no other God than Me. God has a twisted sense of priorities, don't you think? His ego comes first, while murder is bumped down to number six. What kind of depraved sociopath do you people worship?”

     “You still dare to utter blasphemies.” Anthony lifted the sword one handed, grunting with the effort, and took another two steps forward. “Come and learn the price of your sins, if you dare, or will you go skulking back to the flames you have earned?”

     Gloom also stepped forward, waving for Benson and Nacoma to remain behind. “You deserve the flames far more than I do, Anthony Carter.”

     The priest laughed. “You really think you have a chance against me, Gloom? I have armour and a sword. You are, literally, naked. Come on, then, let's get this over with.”

     “Yes, I do think I have a chance,” replied Gloom as he continued walking forward. “You know why? Because you've been enjoying paradise for all these years. You know what paradise does to you, Anthony? It makes you soft, weak. I, though, have been in Hell, being tortured by agonies you cannot imagine. You know what adversity does to you? It makes you strong. So I turn your question back on you, Anthony. Do you think you have a chance against me?”

     The priest laughed and placed the helmet back on his head, then gripped the huge broadsword two handed. The two men were less than ten feet apart now and Anthony lifted the sword, preparing to bring it down in a slashing arc that would cleave the other man cleanly in two. Benson started forward to go to Gloom's aid, but Nacoma held him back. "I think he known what he's doing," he told the former manservant.

     Anthony gave a cry of rage and ran forward, bringing the sword down towards Gloom's head, but the investigator stepped nimbly to the side and grabbed the priest's wrist, twisting and squeezing hard. The steel armour crumpled between his fingers and Anthony cried out in surprise and pain, dropping the sword. Gloom ignored the dropped weapon and plunged his other hand into the priest's chest, his fingers tearing through the effigy of Christ and ripping the breastplate away as if it were made of paper. Anthony's free hand went to Gloom's throat and squeezed. Gloom barely felt it. Instead he punched the priest in the face with all his strength. His fist went right through the helmet, and blood and pulped flesh spurted through the gaps in the torn metal.

     The other blessed souls could only stare in horror and disbelief as Anthony collapsed onto the grass, his hands flying to the face that was already starting to heal, and Gloom stopped to pick up the sword. It felt as light as a feather in his hand. “Join us!” he cried to the denizens of Heaven. “You all know the truth of God. You know exactly what a monster he is. He doesn't deserve your worship. Join us and help us bring justice and mercy to the afterlife.”

     Perhaps some of them would indeed have changed sides, but behind him the other damned souls had been encouraged by his victory and were pressing forward, shouting eager battlecries as they sought their own share of the glory. Some of the blessed souls ran to attack them, and the first ranks of the invaders fell with horrific injuries from their weapons, crying out with pain and frustration. There were too many of them, though, and the denizens of heaven were gradually pushed back and forced onto the defensive. Many of them were torn to pieces by teeth and fingernails, their screams adding to the sounds of the battle, while others managed to fight their way free and escape back to the north, but the majority were forced back into a number of defensive circles where they could use their weapons to defend their neighbours without the invaders being able to get behind them.

     The invaders’ attack faltered as they found themselves unable to penetrate the ranks of the defenders. Even those damned souls who'd managed to snatch up weapons from fallen enemies were too few to make a difference and, as those who had been injured finished healing, silence fell over the battlefield as everyone waited to see what would happen next. Gloom dragged Father Anthony to the nearest defensive position and stood him where the blessed souls could see him. “Tell them to lay down their arms,” he said, pulling off the priest's shattered helmet to reveal his newly healed face. “They can’t stop us from reaching the throne of God.”

     “You fool!” laughed the priest. “Do you really think you can defeat God himself? He's God, you idiot! He's literally all powerful! What do you think will happen when you stand before Him? Do you think He'll meekly surrender and grant all your demands? Is that really what you think?”

     “If He’s all powerful, why has He let us come this far? We've surprised you once, Anthony Carter. I think we might surprise you again.” He turned to address the blessed souls, who were staring at him in doubt and uncertainty. “I know that many of you, maybe most of you, are genuinely good people who deserve to be in Heaven,” he said, “but there are also many of you like him.” He indicated Father Anthony. “Killers. Murderers. Vile sum who got a free pass because they did it in the name of the church. If there are truly good people among you, prove it by turning over the bad people and letting us pass. You know our cause is just. You know that genuinely good people have been damned for no good reason. I don't believe you’re willing to just stand by and allow this situation to continue.”

     “Don’t listen to him!” cried the priest. “They're enemies of God!”

     “Being an enemy of God is right and honourable when God is guilty of such crimes. The time has come for you to make a choice. Will you defend the torture and punishment of people whose only crime is to not worship a tyrant, or will you take a stand for what is right?”

     “You're wasting your time Gloom,” laughed Father Anthony. “They are the righteous chosen of God. Their faith is firm...”

     He fell silent as one of the blessed souls stepped forward, shrugging off the hands of those who tried to hold her back. It was the black haired woman who'd spoken before. As she came closer Gloom saw that she was brown skinned with ritual scars decorating her face, something he'd heard that some African tribes did to celebrate their triumphs and accomplishments.

     “Tell us more about this woman you killed,” she demanded of the priest.

     “Her name was Doris Kettle,” said Gloom. “She was a simple serving girl who...”

     “She was a member of a gang of thieves,” interrupted Anthony. “Her brother was a housebreaker who killed an innocent man and injured two others in the execution of his last crime.”

     “The crime that you hired him to perform,” pointed out Gloom. “You knew what he was, and you saw him as nothing more than a useful tool for the church. You condone, even reward crimes that serve your interests.”

     The african woman turned to address Gloom. “The church says that if we serve Europeans as slaves and servants, we will be rewarded in heaven, and here I am. God has kept His promise to me. Why should I take up arms against the one who has delivered what He promised?”

     “I don't doubt that there are genuinely good people in Heaven,” replied Gloom, “just as many genuinely bad people have been damned to Hell, but this is just good luck. The selfish interests of God and the church occasionally coinciding with what is right. We need to make sure that all good people are rewarded, and that all bad people get what they deserve. We can't allow justice to go on being so arbitrary. You say that you were rewarded with Heaven for being a slave. Why should anyone have to be a slave? How can you support a God who repeatedly states that slavery is right and proper? How many of your people have been damned to Hell for daring to oppose slavery?”

     “If God states that slavery is right, then it is right,” said Father Anthony. “Everything God says is true by definition, because it was said by God.”

     “And if you believe that then we have nothing left to say to each other,” replied Gloom.

      He waited to see whether his words would have any sway with the blessed souls. Some heated conversations were taking place within their ranks, but to his disappointment no great mass defection seemed to be about to take place. He wasn't really surprised. Those who have been rewarded by an institution and repeatedly told that they’re special, better than everyone else, weren't going to suddenly turn on it, no matter how great the crimes it had committed against other people. Still, he'd had to try. He looked hopefully at the African woman. If just one of them came over to his side, maybe it would encourage others to do the same, but although she was frowning doubtfully she made no move to leave the ranks of her fellows.

     “You see, Gloom?” cried Father Anthony triumphantly. “The words of the fallen have no power to deceive the faithful.”

     “So, what do we do now?” asked Benson.

     For a moment Gloom could only stare back at him, paralysed by uncertainty and indecision.