Before he mopped the blood off Hell's floors and unclogged demonic toilets with a crucifix-shaped plunger, Dregnor was a different kind of man. Or rather, he thought he was. Back on Earth, he went by Derek , a self-declared "freelance miracle consultant" who ran a shady YouTube channel called "Divine DIY: Cleanse Your Soul & Your Sink".
His videos featured him screaming Latin gibberish at moldy shower curtains, and once, memorably, baptizing a toaster. He had two followers; one was his ex-girlfriend who watched for legal reasons, and the other was a Russian bot who occasionally donated $5 and asked for feet pics.
But Derek… sorry, Dregnor... wasn't completely delusional. He was half right about one thing: his "cleansing rituals" did attract attention. Just not from Heaven.
One night, in a cracked apartment smelling of self-pity, Derek accidentally summoned a lesser demon by sneezing during a fake exorcism livestream. The sneeze, blessedly unholy, triggered a rip in space-time. A tiny demon, no bigger than a cat and three times as sarcastic, popped out of his air vent and said, "Congratulations, idiot. You're hired."
And that's how he got drafted.
Hell didn't need another warrior or torturer, it needed a janitor. The last one had been swallowed by a sentient mop bucket. So Derek was yanked into the underworld, slapped with a new name; Dregnor and handed the most cursed job since.
His tools?A mop made from angel hair (the actual hair of a fallen angel, itchy as sin).
A spray bottle filled with holy water diluted with monster energy drink.And gloves that screamed every time he touched something unspeakable (which was everything).
He mopped flaming blood. He unclogged soul drains. He once removed a ghost rat infestation from the third layer of despair. He even started color-coding the tormented. Red tags for screamers, blue for criers, yellow for the ones who just sulk.
He became the janitor. Not just any janitor, Hell's janitor. You think that means nothing? Let me tell you something: you don't survive long in Hell unless you know how to clean up after demons. You don't thrive unless you start liking it.Then came the incident. The one that changed everything.
A rogue angel accidentally fell into Hell's sewage sector. Everyone ran. No one wanted to touch that diplomatic disaster. But Dregnor? He saw the angel. Wings broken. Crying. Covered in literal crap and theological confusion. And Dregnor? He offered him a towel.
Not to strangle him. Just… a towel. Warm, too.The angel survived and for reasons that baffle both Heaven and Hell, he spread the word: "There's a Samaritan in Hell."
The name stuck like cursed gum under the Devil's throne. And the funniest thing? Dregnor loved it.Because in a realm where everyone wanted to be feared or worshiped, he was remembered. Not for power, not for pain, but for being the only idiot in Hell who offered a towel and meant it.
He still mops floors, still talks to himself and still smells like burnt pickles. But now, when something weird happens in Hell, something off, something that even demons whisper about, they say:
"Better call Samaritan 666. That freak'll know what to do."
And most of the time? He doesn't. But he tries anyway.