Chapter Text
Vaggie always felt conflicted about the extermination.
She felt even more conflicted now, standing down here, cornering this... child.
It didn’t matter that she’d just slaughtered a few dozen demons, there was something about this kid that made her freeze.
He was a sinner, clearly. His face and attire resembling that of a clown. Striped pants, a bow tie, a hat to match, but he was different than most sinners she’d killed.
He was crying.
This demon was crying.
This sinner—this child—looked helpless. Huddling against the wall, clearly terrified for his life. Was she seriously going to kill him? What gave her the right to decide who should die and who should live?
Her eyes widened.
Vaggie always felt conflicted about the extermination.
Was it fair, going down there, killing souls who already died? They were overpopulated, they deserved it, they were evil. Right? This was what those scumbags deserved. At least, that’s what they were told. One of the many lies spoon fed to every exorcist in order to keep them in line.
“They’re evil.”
“They deserve it.”
“They’re scum.”
The indoctrinated part of Vaggie believed it—was never one to show any mercy when she slaughtered those souls. But a smaller part of Vaggie resented the notion, or at least, resented the killing. Sure, maybe they were all awful people, but did they really deserve to die? Permanently?
Of course, some sinners committed awful crimes to get into hell. Murder. Assault. Cannibalism. Rape. But some sinners were sent to hell for… well, minor crimes. Stealing, identity theft, breaking and entering. Some sinners never harmed a living soul while they were alive, but were still cursed to reside down there.
Was it fair to kill them?
Was it fair to kill the children?
She always thought so. Was always told to think so. But coming face to face with a child, some helpless, crying, sinner child…
She couldn’t do it.
(Looking back… sometimes, there were days where she wished she had.)
She couldn’t stop herself from lowering the spear, glancing around to make sure no one was in her immediate vicinity. She told the kid to go. She told the kid to run. And he did.
Her relief only lasted so long. She should’ve known helping a sinner would’ve gotten her beat.
There was a shadow coming up behind her and she turned, dropped her spear, surprised to see another one of the exorcists. She knew without a doubt that it was Lute. She was grabbing her arm before Vaggie do anything but gasp, pulling her close—
Her sword came up and before Vaggie could process what was happening, the weapon was cutting through the air, en route to her eye. There was a sickening slick sound of metal digging into her face, a resounding squish and pop. The sound of her own eye being cut out of her head.
The pain was immediate and excruciating, cutting into her skull with pinpoint precision. She screamed as she fell to the floor, her stomach rolling with fear and rising nausea. Golden blood ran down her face, coating the hand she’d brought up to hold the wound.
She opened her good eye just in time to see her eye laid out on the floor, covered in blood. Lute’s sword came down, skewering the organ onto the tip of the blade with a wet slush.
Vaggie was panting, staring at Lute with one eye wide with betrayal. She just let a kid go—a kid! Lute was supposed to be her ally, but this? This was worse than anything she thought possible. It felt like a sick mockery. Degrading. Showing her that Lute knew what she did and didn’t care.
“Sinful—” She started, flicking the sword, sending the eye somewhere she couldn’t follow. She took a step forward, Vaggie scrambled back, breaths coming out in short puffs. Lute’s foot came up, pushing down on her head just as she finished her earlier thought. “—filth like you has no place in heaven.”
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, but Lute was moving. She took her foot off her head, felt her hands on her wings—
She realized what was happening too late. There was a second of tension, skin stretching too far, then the sound of tearing, ripping, bones cracking. Her wings were literally pulled off her back, taking with it the comforting weight and familiarity. Her ability to fly. Her freedom.
She fell to the floor with a gasp, watching through blurry vision as Lute tossed her bloodied wings to the side. She could see another figure—Adam maybe—holding her halo like some fucked up trophy. She couldn’t say anything before the two walked off without even sparring her a second glance. Disgusted. Disappointed.
They left her there without a hint of regret.
Lute cut out her eye, ripped off her wings, and left her down here in some dingy alleyway like useless vermin. All because she let a kid go.
Vaggie always felt conflicted about the extermination, but this solidified it to her. Regardless if the sinners they killed were evil, they were no better. They were using their power to cut others down and take their lives because, what, it was their right?
She stood on shaking legs, avoiding her cut up eye and bloody wings. As she stumbled away, she knew they were wrong.
She ditched the exorcist uniform as soon as she could, using the fabric to wipe off the rest of her blood. She pulled on a white dress with x’s in the front, trying to get as far away from the clothes as she could.
Sadly she didn’t get too far before collapsing next to a dumpster, out of breath, still in shock. The hole where her eye used to be felt empty and wrong. Her back throbbed where it pressed against the metal. She still felt nauseous.
She wasn’t sure how long she laid there, weak and completely hopeless, before she came along. This girl with a red suit jacket top, dark gray pants, and a gorgeous face that seemed unfit for a regular old sinner.
She had a hand over her mouth, clearly shocked, though she didn’t stay frozen long. Before Vaggie could decide whether or not she needed to get up and fight, she was already kneeling next to her, pulling out some bandages with smile.
Vaggie didn’t say anything, just let her wrap her eye in confusion and appreciation.
She didn’t think sinners could be kind, but here she was, this golden angel of a person, helping her. She felt grateful. Anyone could’ve found her, anyone could’ve killed her, but she didn’t.
The (now fallen) angel felt her chest swell with something warm and fuzzy, giving the girl across from her a smile of genuine gratitude. She watched her blush, watched her look away, followed her hand as she tucked some hair behind her ear.
She looked back with a smile and for the first time all night, Vaggie felt hope.