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Sixty. He only made it to fucking sixty before dying and getting dragged down to Hell. And it wasn’t even something tragic to kill him. He choked, giving himself a horrifying experience just like poor Carl did back then. How fucking ironic.
The Devil certainly seemed to think so when Urban materialised in Hell with his throat no longer blocked by the peanut that killed him. Fingers tipped with long, clawed nails adjusted his glasses as red, glowing eyes looked him up and down, chuckling at Urban’s predicament. He stepped closer, and then a hand wrapped around Urban’s throat, squeezing lightly. A reminder that he could do so much more damage if he wanted. And yet he didn’t. He just stared into Urban’s eyes with such intensity that Urban shivered. And it proved challenging to shiver in a place razed with hellfire.
“I told you we would see each other again,” the Devil said, sharp nails pressing against Urban’s skin, digging in deep enough to leave red gouges on his neck. “Welcome to your eternal damnation, Mr Bedford. I know where Mr Webster resides if you would like to visit him.”
“I’d rather not,” Urban muttered, that betrayal still stinging.
Another chuckle. “I understand. Humans hold such amusing grudges against each other.”
(A reminder, if Urban didn’t need one, that he wasn’t speaking to a human. That this… thing was the literal Devil. Which made the fact that Urban found him handsome even stranger.)
Eyes continued to scan Urban, so intense that it felt a little like the Devil was trying to see under his clothes. Urban swallowed, unable to meet the Devil’s gaze.
And then, without warning, the Devil tightened his grip on Urban’s neck, squeezing his throat shut.
And Urban gasped and spluttered, the panic coming back full force, remembering choking alone in his ugliest pyjamas (which he wore now, annoyingly), clawing at his throat and trying to remember how to treat a choking victim but it was different when it was him, knowing he was going to die but unable to stop it.
But just when Urban’s vision began to fade, the Devil let go.
“Wh-What was that for?” he gasped, voice hoarse.
“I’m not actually sure,” the Devil said, chuckling as Urban heaved for breath, rubbing his neck and coughing. “Except… to my frustration, I missed your death. So… perhaps I wanted to see it again. Or something similar, at least.”
Urban didn’t ask why the Devil seemed put out to have missed watching Urban die in real time. He suspected he wouldn’t understand the answer.
“Well, now you are here for eternity, perhaps we can… get to know each other,” the Devil said, as though he hadn’t just choked Urban, as though he wasn’t an all-powerful being who inexplicably seemed fascinated by Urban Bedford.
But even after that show of immense power and disregard for Urban’s safety… he couldn’t deny the way he felt with that powerful hand on his neck.
“Y-Yeah, maybe we can.”