Chapter Text
"HAHA! You know what? Fuck hell! Fuck heaven! And fuck all of you! As long as I wipe that smile off Alastor's fucking face, I don't care what happens."
Vox glared at Alastor. A deep sorrow drowned in his unfaithful eyes, unparallel to what he's ever allowed himself to show on his buffering face. Though that expression was quickly gone, almost naturally replaced to a deformity just enough to be recognised as a smile. A smile of adrenaline, from adrenaline. He let his arms raise in a triumphal motion, with feelings incomparable to any success he's ever felt before. Strained for a heaven he was destined to never acquire, his arms reached. Allowing all the blood on his hands to wash through his sinned body.
Actions done because of his own consequences.
Emily's eyebrow drew in worry. She looked around at everyone's expressions, taking in the look of absolute horror shaken in their frames. Too many bodies looking too small when compared with the position Vox was in.
He stood high on the weapon of mass distraction and in the decision of their fate. I can't handle this, Emily thought. She needed to stop him. Though violence was something she felt was never necessary in any situation, her mind had already broken through that barrier and instead ran solutions in logical clockwork.
There was no other way, she thought. She wished she could just tell him to stop and that he'd listen. Then after he'd reflect and maybe feel even as much as half of the amount of guilt that she was about to endure. That was because she had come up with a solution. A decision to try stop him with her own inadequate hands.
If she was certain to death, she thought, she might as well die trying to save everyone.
And so, with whatever energy she had left, she walked towards the elevated tank. Weak gazes followed her, Vox's being the most intense, a scramble of confusion and a taunt of mockery.
Though it was obvious Charlie wanted to say something, she couldn't. She believed in Emily, whatever she was even trying to do.
After all, she was the one who had given her the most hope. Even when everyone else had almost given up on her.
Emily looked down, feeling and dreading the sharpness of electricity that ran through her. A jolt she refused to acknowledge - she had to focus on saving herself, her friends and half of Pentagram City.
"Vox, please-"
"Please what?”
"S-"
"Stop this?! Tell that to fucking Alastor..and fucking heaven and whatever people try to throw their bullshit in 𝘮𝘺 face!"
Vox's smile increased yet it still hadn't reached his eyes.
His voice buffering more warped than his mix up of words. He pointed at himself at the word 𝘮𝘺 to try emphasise his point, as if mass-suicide hadn’t already done so.
Emily was about to answer until he steps forward.
Forward with his blasphemous limbs and back with her purity that she called legs.
That was it.
That was all it took for heaven to take its course.
It was so something heaven would do, expected almost. But not so much as it leads to the question, why would they only act now?
What happened was a sudden portal appearance. A glowing hole that looked so contrary to the rest of red environment of hell that everyone turned to look at it.
Only a second later, Sera climbed out. With a near-full seraphim form, it was impossible for anyone to not understand what she was feeling. She immediately grabbed Vox's arm.
"No. You will 𝘯𝘰𝘵 hurt Emily."
Vox's eyes darted around as if anyone else would find this ridiculous alongside him. They didn't.
He laughed and tugged at her hand, any form of contentment stripped from his face as he registers her grip was too strong to be anything but serious.
"You-you 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?"
Rage shook his hands and ate his core as his screen sparked a wave of oversaturated colours.
He dug his claws into her arm, yet it had no effect. Only now did he realise just how overpowered he really was.
He did understand the potential of power heaven had over him, but he never thought they'd actually 𝘶𝘴𝘦 it. If they wanted to unleash as much as they claimed, they would've does this earlier. Was Emily really that important? Did he calculate something wrong? No- he couldn't have. I am perfect, he thought. If anything, they're the ones at fault. Instable, why only chose to save Emily now?
His mind scrambled through overheat and an answer for a resolution. He needed to die now. Everyone knew he was a fraud now, how could he live now? Though to him, this wasn’t a weakness.
He was too far gone to think not. To him, it was a mere understanding that people in Hell wouldn't be so gullible anymore. They’d boycott him until he found something miraculous. It was a loss for them, of course. But how could he do anything without approval?
His mind snapped out of thought as he realises Sera was probably only there to kill him anyway. Of course.
If Sera was about to take him right now, that could only mean one of two things.
1) She was going to kill him before everyone else. Therefore meaning he would lose the satisfaction of watching Alastor die right in front of him, with him.
2) She was going to take him to heaven. Then decide for his fate there, most likely endless suffering.
He could accept neither.
”Le̵̖̻̓́ṭ̵͈̣̖̟̗̙̈́͌͜ͅ ̸̨̨͕̗͉̝̩̱͆͑̑͊̐́f̴̻̝͕̲̤̳̙̬̯͂͊̋̀̑͗̿̓̾͠ͅù̶͎̱̘̻̘̘͉̱̑́͠c̵̢̨̲͓͓̙̗̖̊̑̆͝k̴̢̛͇͚͚͉̠͙͎͔̊̾͂̀̾̾͌͝͝i̶̛̦̠̳̣̤̥̯̻̣̲̊̂͑̏̈̎̾͠͝ņ̷̮͍͓̥͓͚̖̝͗͜g̸̼̙͠ ̵̲͍̿̀͊́̃͌̓̕ go of ̴̦͎̬̽͒͐͌̏̈̆̈͌̽m̸̧̓̕ë̴̩̼̗̪̘̾͐̒̔ ̴̦͈̰̭̹͎͕͒̑͐́͂͋ you bitch!”
Distorted sounds emerged through his system. He was not understandable, not at all. But in that moment, at the centre of Pentagram city, that didn’t matter.
For his eye switched to hypnosis, red and black pulses beaming at her azure eyes at a pathetic attempt to put her under control. As expected, it didn’t work. Of course it wouldn’t , she was an angel of high rank. And he was less than human, not just in this moment.
As his claws dug deeper, Sera’s skin tore. holy blood drew. Sera hissed before stepping back as she still held him.
As she stepped back further, he watched himself being dragged into the portal.
Closer and closer to heaven…
…Emily stood there frozen in shock before snapping back to the reality of the situation placed in front her very eyes as a recognisable sound fills her ear.
A voice so comforting she can only let herself hear it come closer and closer…
“Emily, Emily! Are you Okay? We need to get people away from here.. we.. we need to evacuate them!”
It was Charlie. Her voice was out of breath, and not just from running onto the raised machine to reach Emily but from having held it so long at the rising tension from just a few seconds ago.
She gently placed Emily’s arm around her shoulder to help her walk heavy off of the cage.
Camilla turned her head to face her - with an intensity that could kill she stated,
“There’s not enough time.”
Emily’s head that was previously resting on Charlie’s shoulder of exhaustion shot up.
“I…”
…
The world stopped in movement as she felt her fate flashing before her eyes. Time ticking before it would be fully concealed. Before redemption could be nothing more than an old concept created by a dead women. Not her though but Charlie. Charlie was the only one who knew how to help others, how to be as optimistic as herself.
And so, with the knowledge of their destiny awaiting them and unfiltered fear shaking her arms, she raised them. Her very arms before her, had raised with a pain she thought would make it unbearable to do so. But she was so divine, her love surpassed limitations with a burning with a desire to fix things and a yearning..that managed to fix everything. Because suddenly, coming out of her holy hands, was a glistening force of power. Emily’s power.
“Hear my hope.”
…
..
.
Voices faded.
Lightness to Dark.
Alastor. Loathsome self-indulgent Alastor.
By now, everyone had come together to make an ethereal display. A display presenting the future of hell, and the beauty that with enough convincing, everyone could live together in a tranquillity that redeemed the irredeemable.
But not you Alastor. Not at all. He was too good for that. By now, Alastor had walked away from them; expect he hadn’t. His shadow did. It had to performed for him for he was so weak, so distraught it was impossible for him. Even though he was determined.
His body shifted into a more hidden place, one where he was just visible enough to be spotted but only visible enough that if he was spotted, it meant that they had been looking for him.
His figure leaned onto the wall his flesh stabbing against it with how much pressure he exerted onto a thing that could feel nothing. It’s not that he was necessarily 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵 about the whole ordeal but he was in a sense, disappointed. Less entertainment, the fact that Vox had been taken away would only feel slightly abnormal for he was used to feeling Vox’s presence.
In his words at least.
Though now his main thoughts were trying to process what he was feeling. It should have been gratefulness or at least a weak sort of recognition as to why he should feel grateful. He was about to die and Emily had saved him. Twice.
It was easy to understand why he himself should feel okay, at the very least neutral, given the type of person he is. Yet he could not.
And it seems like no circumstances would change that. What more could he have been given to feel any bit of contentment? He began to start from the beginning - dismembering his thoughts at an attempt to try to understand what he needed to do. Because at that moment, something felt so terribly wrong.
Thinking about it for a few minutes, he came with a conclusion. His fight with Vox hadn’t finished yet and Alastor was so exceedingly certain that he’d win, it was unfortunate that conditions had been set to change that (Aka Vox trying to kill everyone).
This was inequitable to him so much to a point that he felt hollow in a sense that no relief from being saved could fix it. A void, almost.
Though by now, he felt as though he was overexaggerating, he was not one to become that dissatisfied after a fight.
It was Vox.
Yet it caused an almost malfunction in his brain. So why did h-
“Why don’t you help them, you double-dealing manipulator?”
Alastor’s emotion vanished within an instant. He didn’t need to, she knew him the best, but his own subconsciousness had taken over because his head was somewhere else. His body had been so used to fitting into position, it hadn’t registered it was only Rosie.
He fixed his spectacle than replied effortlessly like nothing had happened. Like his own thoughts weren’t contradicting themselves.
“What’s in it for me? I don’t work for free. You want help, well, you know the fee.”
“I will not reward a snake like you!”
“You watch them die unless you do!”
“Liar, you wouldn’t dare!”
“Quid pro quo, it’s only fair.”
His shadow acted in accordance with him, revealing the smile he wanted to proclaim but couldn’t. His face wasn’t able to stretch that much.
Rosies eyes glinted, hurt but more so frustrated. She knew he’d do that.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘵.”
“You knew my game the day we met.”