Dante rendered order in hell. It was beautiful, well thought out, fancy, categorical, and, well, wrong. Those adjectives may fit perfectly fine cut into friezes lacing corridors in Heaven, but in Hell, where the King is constantly meditating on the Abyss in his castle's basement, has come to interpret its black musings as law, and the note that it eternally breaths upon his red, elfish ear is this: Anarchy. Anarchy is Law.
Here serial killers are free to treat the place and its inhabitants like stuffed toys in a sandbox they prey and unstuff. Here cannibals eat cannibals for every meal, that's why every now and then you have a massacre (monthly to frame it in our own time-scale, since they don't keep time Down There), for it is tedious to kill on a daily basis just to have something stuffed in your stomach. Rapists rape, thieves steal, adulterers adulterate, murderers murder, concreatures con, politicians...don't last very long, unless they are willing to get down and dirty kill
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