Skip-the-Line Inferno
Darkness presses against rough stone underfoot. Frost crawls slowly across iron railings, the air biting sharply. Dante adjusts a selfie stick, breathing visibly in the glow of his phone screen. Vergil stands nearby, sipping from a thermal mug.
VERGIL (checking his clipboard, resignedly)
Welcome, Mr... Dante. Express dragon from the Limbo Lounge, right?
Dante tilts his phone carefully, angling for frost glint.
DANTE (shivering)
Skipped two hours of screaming souls. My ex got me the ticket. Said it’d be a life-changer.
VERGIL
Good call. The fire’s for day-trippers. Down here’s where you get your money’s worth.
Vergil begins walking deliberately, boots crunching under frost.
DANTE (lifting phone, solemnly)
Welcome, dark history buffs, to this episode of Shadowed Places. Today we explore the final station of betrayal — where the Republic’s traitors learn what eternity means. In the Ninth Circle... Hell has frozen over.
Vergil keeps walking briskly, speaking coolly over his shoulder.
VERGIL
Keep up. It gets colder from here.
DANTE (under his breath)
They didn’t mention that on Tripadvisor.
Vergil hands over a pair of disposable headphones.
VERGIL
You’ll need these to hear the ones under the ice.
Dante turns them over uncertainly.
DANTE
Will it be, like... TikTok loud or... plague pit loud?
VERGIL
Not loud. Just endless loops of narcissistic whining.
Dante slips the headphones on as Vergil strides forward calmly. The frost glows faintly ahead, blue light pooling quietly across the ground as vague, dark shapes form under the ice.
Ahead, the ice shifts slowly, shadows resolving into blurred faces. A thin chorus of muffled voices flickers into Dante’s ears as they step forward. Dante’s camera pans shakily over a frozen tableau:
Mark Zuckerberg is frozen upright, face lit by the glow of a phone screen locked in an endless scroll, thumb twitching slightly under the ice.
Nearby, Clarence Thomas drifts in the ice, papers swirling around him like dead leaves, briefs from gutted precedent frozen mid-tumble.
Suddenly, a well-known voice cracks through Dante’s headphones.
TUCKER CARLSON (muffled, under the ice)
What if Satan... is woke?
VERGIL (not breaking his stride)
Rhetorical questions don’t require an answer.
They walk deeper into the frozen gloom, the air colder, the ice darker. Before them, a tangled shape shifts under the frost. It resolves into Steve Bannon, frozen mid-snarl, teeth sunk into the scalp of Rudy Giuliani, who is half-submerged with streaks of frozen hair dye trailing across the ice like black veins.
A small plaque juts from the frost near Giuliani’s limp hand: “ONE SEASON TOTAL LANDSCAPING.”
Through the headphones, chewing sounds mix with Giuliani’s soft, ceaseless muttering.
RUDY GIULIANI (muffled, under the ice)
I have evidence... truckloads of it.
Dante swallows, gripping his phone tighter. Vergil pauses, sipping from his mug, studying the scene with tired indifference.
VERGIL (drily)
They never learned when to stop talking. Now they don’t have to.
They step around the frozen pair carefully, ice cracking softly under their boots. Ahead, a familiar figure is frozen in the ice, limbs spread in an awkward X shape, head tilted toward a phone locked in his hand. Notifications blink softly under the frost.
A plaque is embedded near the figure’s feet, the letters warped by frost: “FORMERLY CIRCLE IX. NOW CIRCLE X.” Dante leans in, brow furrowing.
DANTE
Did he... buy Hell?
VERGIL (flatly)
Yup. Didn’t help.
Through the headphones, a thin, nasal voice slips out between notification pings.
ELON MUSK (muffled, under the ice)
It’s still free speech if I ban them.
They keep moving, leaving the blinking notifications behind them. A faint rumble pulses through the ice. Suddenly, Satan looms in the dark, his six wings half-frozen into the lake, three vast mouths locked in eternal chewing.
To the left, Rupert Murdoch’s shriveled head is clamped in yellowed teeth, eyes glassy, a small plaque hanging from a chain around his neck: “FAIR, BALANCED, FROZEN.” To the right, Mitch McConnell’s slack face stares forward, unblinking, half-submerged in saliva and ice.
Dante tightens his hood, the frozen air catching on his breath.
DANTE (quietly)
What did they do?
VERGIL
Same story. Betrayed the Republic. Only worse.
In the center mouth, Donald Trump’s pale, grey-haired head jerks weakly, eyes bulging in outrage.
DONALD TRUMP (muffled, from the jaws)
Total witch hunt!
VERGIL (casually)
Not really. Satan likes witches.
DANTE
Why is his skin translucent?
Vergil sips from his mug.
VERGIL
Satan’s allergic to spray-tan.
Dante glances down at the frozen bulk of Satan’s body, realizing the only way out is down.
DANTE (warily)
So... we climb through that hole in the ice?
VERGIL
Rappeling down Satan's shaggy side is included in the Hell for You VIP Package. A highlight, according to our YELP reviews.
Vergil glances back at the chewing mouths, then down at the ice.
VERGIL (under his breath)
Hell was quieter before it got popular.
Dante hesitates, then lifts his camera for one last address.
DANTE (to camera)
That’s it for now, dark history buffs. Thanks for watching this episode of Shadowed Places. Please like and subscribe.
And if you’re planning a trip to this place... pack warm.
Betrayal’s colder than you think.
They step together toward the darkness.