Chapter Text
The air around Vaggie howled, ripping at the tattered fabric of her uniform as she plummeted through the air towards the foul pit. The ground spun far beneath her in a sickening spiral. With every loop, it ate away at the horizon. The stench of filth and rot filled her lungs with each gasping breath. Her muscles moved instinctually, desperately trying to move wings that were no longer there. Her arms and legs hung limp as the golden light of heaven faded from her world.
Her eye closed as the inevitable impact arrived.
A part of her hoped she wouldn't survive. A hope that whatever mercy was left in the heavens would allow her to slip free of her immortal coil and back to the void. Truthfully she wasn't sure if she even could die.
For a time there was darkness.
Vaggie awoke to the sad reality of hell. There were precious few ways to die in the land of the damned. Escape wouldn't come easy for her, not anymore.
It marked the eighth time she had landed in hell. Only it wasn't the clean, decisive fall of an Exorcist descending on Pentagram City. It was a graceless and bone-jarring collision with the ground, a landing that stole the air from her lungs and replaced it with the taste of blood and hot dust. The world was a screaming assault on her senses. The air, thick with the stench of sulfur and something rotten, clawed at her throat with every labored breath. The distant, overlapping shrieks of tormented souls blended with a sleazy, brassy jazz tune that oozed from some nearby club like an auditory infection. Grit, hot and sharp, scraped against her cheek as she opened her remaining eye.
Pushing against the ground, Vaggie tried to right herself. Her arm gave out instantly. Twisting back to the ground, she fell onto her back.
The pain, a deep and roaring fire that radiated from her back, and hollow pang where there should have been the familiar weight of her wings. Her mouth moved, trying to scream, though only a sad gurgle of rushing air made it out. Every muscle in her body cried out in agony. Tense or relaxed, they screamed all the same. Her consciousness wavered. One moment, she was staring up at a filthy sky, the same brownish red color of a festering wound; the next, she was blinking through a haze of tears and blood. The slow jazz tune seemed to swell and fade with her pulse. Each breath was a conscious effort to fill her tortured lungs.
Instinct, baked into her from the day she was created, ordered her to move. Her weapon. She needed to find it. Pushing past the flames of agony her hand fumbled at her hip, finding the familiar, reassuring grip of her angelic spear.
"Good", she thought, at least they hadn't taken it from her.
Her fingers, cold and trembling, reached up over her shoulder, expecting the familiar downy softness of her feathers, or the powerful muscles that had anchored them to her shoulder blades. They found only ruin.
Golden blood adorned her fingertips as they slid over the torn flesh. Jagged shards of bone protruding from a raw, weeping wound. The space where her magnificent wings had been reduced to a gaping maw of agony.
A choked sob escaped her lips. Her halo was gone; she could feel its unmistakable absence. For her entire existence it's grace had blanketed her with a penetrating warmth. Somehow, the physical violation of her wings cut deeper. Her sins were manifest on her body. Wingless. Broken. Fallen. She was cast down with the rest of the unworthy.
A shadow fell over her, blotting out the dim malevolent light of the burning sky. Through the haze of pain, she saw the creature with her remaining eye. A demon. Thin and tall, it towered over her desecrated body. Its eyes glowed softly as it surveyed its prize.
The demon spoke words, but Vaggie couldn't make them out. The ringing in her ears muffled everything beyond recognition. The demon spoke several times as she tried to understand. She swallowed as best she could, her dry throat taking in some of the foul debris that covered her head from head to toe.
"Who..." Vaggie said with great effort. Her ears mercifully calmed for a few moments. "Who are you?"
"Never mind me, look what we have here," it hissed, its voice like grinding glass. "A little bird that's fallen from the nest."
Vaggie’s mind, still reeling, clung to old truths.
"I am an Exorcist. I cannot be harmed by them. I fear nothing," It was a mantra, a law of her universe. Her soul clung to it as a raft in the storm.
She tried to push herself up, to summon the divine authority that had always made demons cower. But there was nothing. No power. Her core felt empty. Where once a mighty inferno had roared, there was nothing. Just the searing pain and the cold dread pooling in her stomach.
The demon moved with a speed Vaggie had never seen in a sinner before.
"I am an Exorcist. I cannot be harmed-" Vaggie's mantra was interrupted by something new. She was certain that the pain in her body had already reached its limits. There was no possible way for it to climb to new heights. Experience was always a cruel preceptor.
Something cut into her belly. The pain elsewhere suddenly faded as this new anguish washed over her. Looking down, the beast's claws had dug into her, piecing the fabric of her uniform and leaving behind a streak of golden blood.
Vaggie tried to cry out, to join those nearby. Only sad gurgles of wet air sounded from her once mighty lungs as she beheld the horror of her diminished form.
Towering over her, the demon looked down with enraptured joy. It was an unheard of pleasure to see an angel harmed, much less laid vulnerable in the dirt. It looked at its claws in pure disbelief. The shiny gold covered it with an all too familiar warmth as it dripped down its hand and back onto Vaggie.
The returned warmth rang like a bell in the sundered angel. Vaggie reacted on pure muscle memory. Her spear was in her hand and extended before the thought even finished. Stabbing upwards, she hit the offending claws with the silvered flat edge. The hit sent a jolt of agony through her, and she cried out in pain and anger.
Rolling with the strike, Vaggie rose to one knee. The look in the demon was back to what she knew. It feared. For a single moment the world made sense again in the angels head. The searing pain was ignored as she rose to her feet and faced her foe eye to eye.
Fights with demons were supposed to be clean, efficient. A dance of death she had mastered. What followed was a desperate, messy scramble in the dirt. She was weak, bleeding, and her vision swam with tears of panic and pain. Every thrust of her spear was a little slower, every parry a little weaker. She struggled to stay upright as best she could with every desperate swing.
The demon stepped back at first. It seemed to test her, unsure if she was at her limit or only toying with it. Strike after strike fell weaker and weaker. Sensing her faltering strength, the demon grew bolder. Where moments before it had given ground, it started to hold it firmly. Seizing the opportunity, the demon knocked the spear from her grasp with a kick, sending it skittering across the dusty ground. It was on her in an instant, its foul breath hot on her face, its claws raking along her arms as it pinned her back to the ground.
Looking up at the filthy creature, Vaggie accepted what was to follow. This was how she died. Not in glorious battle, not in the service of Heaven, but torn apart in the dirt by a nameless scavenger in the first minutes of her new eternity. She closed her eyes, a single tear tracing a clean path through the grime on her cheek.
For a shining golden moment, the pain didn't seem to matter so much. Death was finally there for her. She accepted it, even welcoming it.
"Hey!" The new voice was different. Vaggie's vision swung in a wild blur as she tried to get a fix on who was interrupting her unceremonious end. "Get away from her!"
The voice was loud, warm, and utterly devoid of the malice that defined this realm. A flash of red and gold. A tall, slender figure, clad in a red tuxedo jacket, with a shock of blonde hair and eyes that burned with a furious, righteous fire. It wasn't in a fighter's stance. Its movement was frantic and clumsy. But the demonic strength behind the shove that sent the scavenger flying was undeniable. A single blow to the demon's chest launched it clear across the street.
Vaggie sat up as best she could as she watched the demon cartwheel off like a limp doll into a nearby brick wall. With a sickening crackle of flesh and shattered bones, it slumped to the ground. If it was dead or unconscious, Vaggie couldn't tell. She stared dumbly for several precious seconds. Any instinct to defend herself from this new, clearly more pressing, threat was lost in the haze of pain and confusion. The world fell quiet, safe for the steady thrum of her heart pounding in her ears.
A pained moan caught both of their attentions. Across the street, the downed demon's eyes shot back open. It scrambled to its feet, hissing at the newcomer. It took one trembling step back, then another, before turning and fleeing into the haze and shadows. They watched him run until he vanished behind an old, broken-down corner store.
Vaggie turned back to face her next opponent. She stood mere feet from her, the fire visage fading away in moments. The relaxation should have assured Vaggie, but it only sent a cold chill up her spine.
"Oh my God, you're hurt!" the demon said.
"What?" Vaggie spat back as she tried desperately to catch her breath. "Here to claim the kill?" It took the last of her strength to brandish her spear. The angelic steel gleamed in the red glow of Hell. Death had never truly occurred to the angel. The idea of a final stand seemed almost laughable.
"What? No!" The demon's eyes softened. It was like a script to Vaggie, a trick to lower her guard. The demon hugged one of her arms to her side and spoke softly. "Uh, hi, I'm Charlie."
Charlie's eyes moved in quick, fleeting motions as she surveyed the injured angel before her.
Vaggie dropped to her knees, her breathing quick and shallow. She cursed under her breath. This demon was strong; she had no questions about that. It had taken an opponent that was standing its own against an angel and flung it aside, seemingly without effort. Now that same power stood before her, face awash with pity. Clearly, Vaggie wasn't even worth their total potency. This wouldn't be a fight, not in her current state. It would just be the final joke. Squished like a bug. It would be Vaggie's extermination.
To Vaggie's surprise, the killing blow didn't come. Charlie's eyes stayed fixed on hers as she stepped forward carefully. As this strange demon reached her, Charlie kneeled down in front of her. Her claws hovered over Vaggie's wounds, as if afraid to touch.
"Just... Just end it," Vaggie said as her conscience threatened to give way again.
"Wait, what?" Charlie asked.
The demon spoke again. Vaggie's mind slipped back into the void. She was certain the filthy lies wouldn't matter. Oblivion was finally here to welcome her and take her from the suffering. The angel welcomed it back with open arms.