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I struggle to put the words together. I'm not really sure there are words to begin with. At this point, my own mind is beginning to fail me. The thing in front of me is something I can't quite fathom, despite the fact I am its creator. How it actually functions is beyond me. All that's left is the thing's existence, and its purpose.

The last thing I can remember with any clarity is the funeral. Having to watch them lower his coffin into the ground. Listening to the sound of nothing broken only by quiet sobs. That empty feeling that dug into my chest since I received the call about his death. I first interpreted that feeling as me questioning my faith. Did I really believe in a doctrine that dictated my brother was to be eternally damned because he loved another man, and possibly additionally condemned for suicide? It was not until I arrived home that night that I realized what had taken root was actually inspiration waiting to flower.

Without regard to cost or practicality, ignoring all responsibilities, I built. Driven by the love of a lost sibling, I birthed this monster. My savings account was steadily emptied over the following weeks, and I turned to cannibalizing other objects to feed the mechanical beast. I realized I could use my car as the frame, use things from around the house for the wires and pipes. I built the heart of the machine using Father's lawnmower, which I had borrowed shortly after the accession of the queen. Mother, sympathetic as she was, could not stand to lose a second son. Instead of food, I used the funds she gave me to purchase glass, which I turned into an array of vacuum tubes. I disemboweled a prototype bombe to build a majority of the monster's innards. I'm unsure where I collected the material for the track the vehicle runs on, but I'm almost certain it was illegal.

It shouldn't work, I understand that. I have no education in mechanical engineering, I have no experience in electrical work. Even I know a lawnmower engine could not possibly move this behemoth. But it will work, I know it. Whatever familiar-feeling force that guided my hands is now gone, but I trust in it. It has to work. I've destroyed my career, eradicated my funds, almost annihilated what's left of my familial ties.

Judging by the noises upstairs, I have managed to gain something in the past weeks. Notoriety. Climbing into the driver's seat, I can hear doors bursting open. People of authority calling out my name, announcing to their comrades that each room they check is clear. But it doesn't matter. The machine will carry me away from this place.

The keys are waiting to be turned, and I hastily oblige them. The beast stirs in response. Its dark heart begins to beat, pumping iridescent madness throughout its system. Two tubes at the front of the frame fill with gas, its blazing blue eyes opening and casting a light upon the track. Similar tubes along the sides fill with multicolored gas, masking the filament within. Copper piping rattles and whistles as it releases torrents of steam. A constant chorus of cogs, gears, and sprockets sing within the confines of the metal hide. With a whirring screech the beast opens its maw, exposing a massive drill powered by the remnants of the original car's engine.

On the wall before me are arcane symbols etched into a semicircular pattern, the vehicle's tracks terminating at the center. The words Abaddon, Gehena, Hades, Sheol, Tartarus, and Hell shimmer within the pattern. The texts are inconsistent in the naming of my destination, as such I've erred on the side of caution and invoked them all.

I grasp the parking brake, the only thing keeping the beast from launching forward. The basement door bursts open, a man in combat gear standing in the threshold. He tells me to step out of the vehicle as I thumb the lever's release button. He brandishes his weapon and restates his command. I take a deep breath, steel my nerves, and pull the lever. An ungodly roar drowns out all sound, my vision blurring as the vehicle rockets forward.

Hold on, Alan. I'm coming. One way or another.

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