Chapter Text
Albert McRae was in hell. He was literally in hell. He had died and gone to hell. It had been a week, and he still wasn’t used to the idea that he was dead. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel fair.
It wasn’t fair.
He was so close to making it. He could have made it big. Hell, he could have been a millionaire. His turnover was one of the greatest the company had ever seen. He was a model employee, the sort that would show up early and leave late. He never asked for more than his lot in life. He was grateful for everything he had. He had been lucky.
He made it out. Nobody born in his circumstances was meant to be a successful investment banker. He saved everything he had, and managed to get a spot in a good university. Albert worked his ass off, applying for every scholarship and grant he could. He graduated, and was immediately hired by a big bank, managing trust funds with money he could never imagine having for himself.
Working for people like that…millionaires, it changes you. Albert had never seen those amounts before. But he didn’t complain. He finally had a salary more than anything he could imagine. £2000 base salary, a house of his own. Hell, he even had his own television set.
He did everything right. He worked hard. He sucked up to the bosses. He always offered to make his coworkers coffee. He was great. His manager loved him, always harping on about how bright his future was.
Which is why it was so cruel that he died at the hands of a lightning strike.
It was comical, almost. In a bitter, evil way. Albert had built his life by beating the odds. It was only fitting that a one in a million stroke of bad luck would be the way it ended. Not to mention the divine cruelty of becoming an eel, of all things. 25 years of work, reduced to a single moment. A bitter irony, he thought.
Hell wasn’t like what Albert imagined. There were stores. Radio channels. Nothing like the “eternal torture” he had grown up learning about in churches. It was just…boring. It was confusing, more than anything. There was an economy. A class system. An annual extermination. He didn’t know he could die again . Once was bad enough, after all.
It was confusing. It was scary. He wasn’t sure how he was meant to cope here. People had jobs. People sold their souls. People had families, partners. There was a life here, if he was willing to find it.
The eel had decided to go to a coffee shop. He always liked coffee shops, the familiarity of them. He used to take his laptop, working through his lunch breaks with a flat white next to the sandwich he brought from home.
He’d gravitated towards some place sponsored by a guy called Mammon, with a window display of beautiful cakes and pastries. Luckily, he had managed to get a bit of cash in his first few days, though he wasn’t proud of how. He didn’t think of himself as a thief, but he needed to survive. He needed purpose , something. At least by stealing things, he could feel alive. Like he had some sort of impact on his surroundings.
He ordered a coffee, sitting down with it in the window, looking out at the red and orange streets with a sort of longing. Some people here got it. They understood. They figured out how to live lives with meaning. To be happy . Or at least close to it. The overlords got it. And they used to be alive, too. He could be like them, if he worked hard enough.
He sipped at the coffee, his tail swaying awkwardly through the bottom of his chair. He still couldn’t get used to that. He’d already accidentally shocked himself too many times. He hated the way that it sparked when he got nervous.
“Hey. Eel.”
Albert squeaked, his tail sparking as he looked away from the window, suddenly snapping out of his deep thought. He looked up to see a demon, a taller one in a brown suit and matching top hat. Where his face should be, was a CRT television, displaying a smiling face. “Careful with that tail, now-” He joked, taking a seat opposite Albert. “This place is packed. You don’t mind if I sit opposite you, right?”
Albert nodded. “S-Sure! I’ve not actually…met anyone else here yet, so, I’m happy”.
“Really?” The stranger seemed a little confused, before the pieces fell into place. “Ah! How long ago now?”
Albert winced. “Uhm. Almost a week?”
“Ugh. The first week is the hardest - that’s for sure. Well, I’m here now. What’s your name?” They asked, leaning forward over the table.
“Albert McRae, sir. What about you?”
“Cute name. I’m Vox. CEO of Voxtek media.” Vox said, with a certain smugness that Albert wasn’t sure he deserved.
“What?”
“Voxtek media. My company. We’re starting a TV channel. It’s gonna be huge.” Vox bragged, smiling wider as he explained.
“You’re making a TV channel?”
“Mhm! Serious shit, too. There’s gonna be a news show, with me as the host. Drama. Documentaries. Not to forget the game shows, of course. I’ll have people putting their
souls
on the line, live on television! Can you imagine?”
Albert looked a little confused, and yet he was enraptured by Vox’s vision. “How? How do you get that sort of money here? There’s hardly a…job centre around.”
“Ah, well. I have this friend of mine. One of the major pornographers around here. He’s bankrolling it at the moment until we find our feet, with the promise that we advertise his stuff. I’m going to make TV big here in hell. It’s far too old fashioned down here, don’t you agree Albs? These sorry folks are still listening to the radio!”
The eel shifted a little. “Right. I…I hadn’t really noticed. I’m still-”
“Right. The shock of it all. I get it, Alb. Seriously.” Vox said seriously, shaking his head. “You’ll get used to it. I promise. So, what did you do? Tell me your story.”
Albert swallowed. “You sure?” Vox nodded. “I doubt it’s that interesting.”
“I’m sure. You, Albert, are already incredibly interesting.” He said, although the eel didn’t seem the most convinced. “Hell, I’ll go first. Make it easier for ya’. Born in America. Stand up comic turned game show host. Died of mysterious circumstances whilst hosting an awards show. Embarrassing, if you ask me. Might have seen it in the news.” Vox shrugged. “I changed my name when I got here, of course. Vox is a lot less pathetic than the old me.”
Albert nodded, listening in awe. So, Vox was a celebrity? He did carry himself like a famous person. He did like watching the game shows on television. He always wondered what it would be like to win one of those big, life-changing prizes. “Woah. You’re really making a name for yourself huh?” Albert smiled. “I guess I can relate to that…that drive, I suppose.”
“Oh yeah?” Vox was curious. “Go on, it’s your turn.”
“Fine, fine.” He took a deep breath. Here goes nothing, he thought. “Well…I was an investor. Born in a shitty town in a shitty city, y’know. Single parent, not much money to go around. I vowed I wasn’t going to live like that. Pull myself up by my bootstraps, y’know? I was going to do something good with my life. Help my mum, help myself. And I did! I made it out, got scholarships, all of that. Worked my ass off. I ended up trading for this big bank and these hedge funds and all that.”
Vox looked entranced, making Albert feel a little more comfortable as he continued. Maybe he was interesting. Or at least, he was interesting to someone. He’d take that. “Well. I got the job and I moved to London. It was serious work, for the last four years of my life. And then I was working overtime one night, late into the night answering emails and writing up statements and reports. It was almost midnight when I left, and there was this massive thunderstorm. I was on my way to the tube, and then-” He snapped his finger. “Like that. Lightning strike.”
The two sat in silence for a second. God, it was depressing. An entire life story, reduced to a story told in a few minutes. “Fuck. A lighting strike?” Vox asked, eyes wide at the sudden ending to Albert’s story.
“Mhm”
“That explains the-” Vox gestured at Albert’s tail. “Yeah. Hell can be cruel like that. So, what have you been doing since you got here?”
“Crime, mostly.” Albert admitted. “I broke into a couple houses, took some cash off the dresser. Nothing violent. No…I couldn’t do that. But…I guess I’m just trying to figure out how it works. But I got desperate. The streets here are so loud. Overwhelming. I needed to get money for a place to stay.”
“It’s not a crime here. It’s hell, sweetheart.” Vox pointed out, wagging his finger. “No, no. Don’t worry about that. Morals work differently down here. It’s a lot more…free. I think you’ll come to like it. It just takes…time.”
Albert wasn’t sure why, but he believed him.
“Were you good at your job, Albie?” Vox asked, trying out the new nickname with a smile. Albert wasn’t sure about that, but it sounded good coming from Vox, regardless of how out of left field the question was.
“I…I was the best. Seriously. Nobody my age was trading as successfully as me.” He said, confidently. “It was my whole life, Vox.”
Vox grinned at that. “I like that confidence. It’s impressive. I like someone who knows what they’re good at.”
Albert beamed, finishing off the rest of his coffee. “Thank you, Vox.”
“I ask because, well…I need someone like you. Voxtek is only just beginning, and it is just me right now. I could give you somewhere to stay, a salary, and in return, you would be my assistant. Handling the payments from our benefactor, helping negotiate for the equipment we need. Not to mention, having an assistant will make me look a lot more professional to others.” Vox offered. “In short, how would you like a job working for Voxtek?”
Albert tilted his head. “Don’t you want to interview me first?”
“No need. What, you think I can contact your old references? If you let me down, I can toss you out. But I don’t think you will.” Vox laughed, although he clearly wasn’t joking. “Plus, I’d enjoy more of your company.” He admitted.
Vox held out his hand. “What do you say? You and me - the founding members of Voxtek?”
The eel swallowed. He had nothing left to lose. Vox was offering him exactly what he needed. Purpose.
Fuck it.
He took Vox’s hand, smiling. “I’m all yours.”