Eye for an Eye

[Android 17]

Seventeen stumbled his way through the white land.  Despite being alive, he felt increasingly sluggish with almost every single step he took.
 
The hell is this place!
 
The cyborg held back a frown as he paused and look at what lay before him.  He was about a mile, mile and a half from the fountain, and in front of him, he could spot at least three grayish walls on the horizon.
 
Not walls... The center was a different color. Doors? Passageway?
 
While his muscles were still stiff, the machine-hybrid managed to traverse the last mile or so that separated him from the door-looking shape.  As he drew closer, he could confirm his suspicion that he was looking at a big old archway.  Dull gray stone outlined an area that seemed to shimmer as he drew closer to it.  With a faint smile, he walked up to the arch and started to reach out toward the wavering white wall.  He stopped right before his fingers brushed against the surface and paused for a thought.
 
What’s the worst that can happen?
 
“I mean, Death Number 8 probably won’t be any worse than the first three.”
 
Wait, does the last one count? The thought made the young man twist up his lips and furrow his brow.  Technically, he’d resigned himself to oblivion, but there hadn’t been that wonderful split-second burst of horrifying, skull-splitting agony that usually came before the darkness.  Then again, the prospect of being able to make a lot of ‘nine lives’ jokes probably would make any accidental death worth the cost.
 
So the man leaned forward and let his hand touch the surface.  Upon impact, it met no resistance and passed through to whatever lay on the other side.
 
Can still feel it. Seventeen wiggled the fingers he couldn’t see and grinned at the familiar sensation of skin brushing against skin.  After clutching his bony digits into a fist, he stepped through whatever the wall was made out of and into whatever lay beyond it.
 
At once, the machine-hybrid’s eyes and nose were assaulted by a mixture of sulfur and ash.  A forearm moved over the top half of his visage as his other hand clamped over his mouth and nose.  For a few moments, he just stood there as the new environment washed over him—dousing him in whatever unnatural blend of dust and particulate floated in the air.  When he finally dropped his arm and hand, he found himself partially amused by the scene in front of him.
 
Hell?
 
All the tropes were there:  Active volcanoes, lava-filled cracks in the ground, and a black-red skyline that could fill any sinner with instant regret.
 
Unfortunately, the artist here was missing some of the details.  Hell was a little darker than this place, and there was just a little more red involved in the equation.  If this was supposed to be the Underworld, it was the poor man’s edition.
 
In the cyborg’s head, words that didn’t belong to his thoughts passed through. ‘This is not the world you know…’