Chapter Text
Cold. Dark. Stiff.
Simon is starting to wake up, his eyes flutter open and the white light pricks at his eyeballs. He tightly shuts his eyes before lifting his body up from the metal table. Metal table? Looking to the right of him, seeing his arm strapped down and bloody. Struggling against it, he lifts his left arm to remove the leather resistant; only for a stump to come into view. Wheezing out a shocked gasp and kicks his legs out as they're not restrained. His eyes catch moving boulders, rocks or whatever demons these are. Heart racing as he finally uses his teeth to remove the restraint, he quickly moves off the table. His body collapses onto the smooth floor, struggling with his weak body. Everything hurts. His brain hurts, his eyes, his arm. God, his arm.
Damn you, COI.
Damn you and that blood ocean.
Ava and her manipulation and lies.
Damn to that creature.
Simon resorts to crawling as he tries to get away from those things. Those demons. Two manage to crawl around him, keeping their distance but also creeping in. He swings his right arm as a way to defend himself. Simon resorts to screaming at them, try to intimate them. He crawls to the wall, positoning himself towards them. The humming and squeaks and whistles are all he hears. His breathing quickens as he looks for a way out, or maybe this is his punishment.
His hell.
Purgatory.
Simon throats closes up as his tears begin to fall. He knows he deserves it. He is The Butcher. A criminal. He is guilty. But fuck, is he scared to face those consquences. He braces himself as the demons close in on him and he yells out what he believes are his last words.
"COME ON! TRY AND GET ME!"
"I really wish you got me before he woke up, Rocky," A panicked voice pulls him back to the present.
Simon dared to open his eyes. Is that a human voice? No, no, he is NOT going to fall for it. He is in hell. He is not safe. He is being punished. Simon looks up to see a figure, a bright orb above their head and soft glowing eyes. Simon instinctively reaches his hand out as an offering.
"An angel?" He whispers, both disbelief and in hope of what he is seeing. The figure steps forward, taking the shape of a man. A tall, blond man who is wearing glasses and a weird yellow suit. Wide, innocent eyes stare down at Simon as he crouches down and helds out a hand.
"My name is Grace. What is your name?"