Oddly enough, the ground beneath Vance was rather smooth. Before he dared open his eyes, he ran his fingertips around where he was lying, just to check if he was going to wake up in bed.
Unfortunately, it felt as though he was touching a tiled bathroom floor covered in a thin layer of soft dirt as he brushed it around and it clung to his fingers. When he opened his eyes, everything was warm in color, his skin feeling a soft heat that did not feel so uneasy yet was clearly warmer than summer’s worst. His brows furrowed. Why did it look as though he was within a cave?
Rock formations greeted him from above, and when he burst forward to look around, eyes finally snapping open, he only noticed that he was on some sort of platform in a rocky, cavernous area. Light glowed from what appeared to be the edge of the tiled floor, columns framing a large chair right before the edge dropped off.
Behind Vance were large, elaborate doors of a deep onyx, shimmering with the flickering of the strange flow from around the cavernous region, fire streaming steadily from lanterns. Did nobody have a damned light switch here?
Well, he was in a cave and it really looked like he was dragged to Hell, but that wasn’t possible. He didn’t even really believe in God or anything. Stopped going to church during Freshman year and joked to his parents that it was because he was secretly hellspawn and it gave him a headache to hear scripture. His sister punched him in the arm and told them he was an atheist after that.
She was always a pain in the ass, even if she was only two years younger than Vance. They might have gotten along if he gave enough effort into communicating with his sister, but she seemed to be in her own world, constantly spending her life on video games when she wasn’t on hour long drives with her friends.
And she said that Vance was the one with no life.
Well, it seemed to appear that way as he stumbled to his feet, dangerously approaching the large chair, like a throne of obsidian, dark as night with a contrasting red cloth hanging over the back and a matching pillow atop the seat. He frowned again.
“Why is this so damn big?” he whispered to himself, reaching out to feel the smooth glistening of the stone. He paused there as he felt it up, his skin turning into a cold chill.
Why was his heart not pounding? Why did he not feel as if he would lose breath? The anxiety that ran deep within him while the sensation of being dragged beneath the dirt felt to have faded, like he returned to the apathy in which he often experienced within the school halls.
No answers came, so he shrugged and inched his way to the edge of the platform, only to freeze as he looked down on what seemed to be an enormous, cavernous world below. Lava spilled from rocks like waterfalls, landing in crafted fountains around buildings of various material, surprisingly colorful despite the warm hues overwhelming the area.
To the sides, the underground city disappeared into shadows as the lava and flames stopped lighting the place ablaze, yet everything he could see from where he stood was glittering beauty, although a bit odd in the twisted environment that looked to be more fitting for torture.
Oh, this had to be Hell. He must have accidentally ate someone’s drugged cookie instead of a normal one from Subway. No fucking way this shit was real, but he had never really bothered with drugs before. Somehow, though, this did not feel as if it was the result of such.
“Shit,” Vance whispered. “I’m fucking dead, aren’t I? Dragged into hell after God knows what happened-”
“If you’re thinking that you might be in Hell, you’re entirely correct,” a deep voice purred from behind, the elegance behind it making his hair flicker upwards a moment. Vance spun around and froze in confusion as he was greeted by a peculiar sight.
A man was sitting atop an exact replica of the strange throne, except it was floating as he lounged comfortably sideways, legs hanging over the armrest, head tilted in Vance’s direction. Vance would admit the man held handsome features, from a beautifully carved face and dashing hooded eyes that enraptured him in nearly a trance. His dark hair was neatly styled, and the suit he wore looked expensive and finely crafted.
“Ah, and I don’t believe even God knows what’s happened to little old you. Nor does he care. He never really has, especially for people who so easily can see the chains of hell hounds,” he continued, the richness of his voice an oddly seductive sound as he hopped off of the chair. It vanished in the blink of an eye, and Vance realized he felt the space next to him fill up again.
Was he sitting in the exact chair? Had it just teleported? Well, that certainly wouldn’t be the strangest damn thing to happen to him tonight, if it was even the same day. Hard to tell when everything was so grim and bright with hellfire.
As the man-- no… he certainly wasn’t a man. As the thing’s feet touched the ground, he sprouted a tail that came to an arrow’s edge, horns building out from his forehead in tune with it. Vance thought his eyes would roll further back into his head when a pitchfork popped into his hands.
“You’re going to tell me that you’re Satan, aren’t you? I’m sorry but not even in hell would I expect a fucking pitchfork-”
He chuckled then, fingers curling tight around the pitchfork’s handle. “I thought I would do it for theatrics,” he returned, eyeing the weapon in his hands with a critical eye. His dark brows furrowed before he quite literally tossed the thing aside. Vance watched as it smashed against the tiles and shattered quite literally as though it were glass.
And then the pieces disappeared, like they fluttered away entirely. Like dust, the pitchfork was gone, but the man’s horns remained. They spread far from his head, about five inches each, and twisted to a sharp point backwards. His grin felt weirdly comforting, but the red eyes sparkled with something deviant.
“You’re oddly comfortable before me,” he observed.
“I have no idea who you are,” Vance attempted to lie, his stomach twisting a bit. It was probably Satan, but he was so goddamned charming. Was that the point? Was that how he convinced Eve to eat the mango or whatever? No wait it was an apple. Yeah, an apple.
“Ah, well here in Hell they call me Lucifer… the fifth,” he chirped. “The first four are not my relatives, either. We don’t pass on rule like human monarchs. We don’t usually have families, either, although it’s not impossible.”
“Thanks for the history lesson,” Vance deadpanned, his throat feeling a bit dry from the heat. For some reason, his fear came more from the fact he could not feel his own heartbeat than the fact a man introducing himself as Satan-- or the fifth Satan?-- was right before him.
“Of course. You’ll need to know a bit of something since you’re… going to be seeing this place a little more than you may like.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re dead, little man. Soul passed on, heart stopped. That’s why it’s not beating, in case you were worried.”
Vance blinked back, lifting a brow. “Why would the Devil greet me personally?”
“Because you’re here for a special reason. Actually, I don’t know why you’re here, but I asked the hell hounds to grab you after you were making quite a spectacle of a contract’s completion.”
Confusion struck Vance, but he tried to pick up on all the words that the man-- err, Satan-- was telling him. Perhaps he could piece it together later, and after all, he was in Hell, right? Why was this weirdly calming? Either way, he would have an eternity to think… or was that even how it worked?
Wait-- Vance was an atheist. Is that why he was in Hell? But--
“Save your questions for a moment,” the Devil sighed, rubbing at his temples. He remained a decent distance away from where Vance stood, keeping his presence quite visible in the midst of the empty area. Oh, was this his throne room? What a lovely place to drop into when going into Hell.
“Because I’m in a good mood, I’ll explain your situation to you,” he continued, beginning to pace about the room as he closely watched Vance who stood a bit dumbfounded. “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but you shouldn’t have been able to see the chains of hell claiming that woman’s soul at all. Because you did, I had you dragged down here so I could investigate properly. I honestly see you as something to do for fun, but now you’re a bit more interesting than that.”
“Interesting how?” Vance wondered with a quirk of his brow. The Devil only grinned at him.
“You saw what you should not see, so I was interested. It’s truly an honor that my interest in you is not malevolent-- that I’m not trying to kill even your soul. Oh, you are dead by the way. Suffocated on the way down, but of course, that’s inevitable. Nobody who is dragged to hell survives, although I spared you from having your limbs compacted and snapped as you witnessed.”
Vance gulped. “Yeah. Thanks for that,” he muttered, kicking around the dirt by his feet. A silence washed between them as the Devil stopped his pacing and walked towards Vance. He paused only when he was a couple feet from the boy, eyes piercing into Vance’s own flesh. Or was it flesh? His soul? He was dead, but he felt like he was in a body.
“You’re welcome,” he said finally, the words like a twirl of chocolate from his lips. “The woman you witnessed had been experiencing an hour of immense pain before she was dragged down in that state. You were given a couple minutes of suffocation. More ideal, I’d say.”
Vance met his eyes then, the piercing red pressing into him like softened blades. He blinked at the man claiming to be Satan himself and tilted his head. Something about him was still weirdly charming, like a slight touch of trust came from his mere appearance.
“You really are the Devil,” Vance declared finally as his mind seemed to clear a bit. And I can see why you’re known to be good at tempting others.
The Devil’s laugh smelled like roses. “Of course I am. Do I look otherwise?” He stepped backwards with his arms open wide in a grand display, showing off the likes of his existence as though he were superior in all manners. A bit cocky, but well… he was the Devil afterall.
“Other than the uhh-” Vance pointed at his head to signal the horns atop the Devil’s skull. “Y’know horns and tail stuff. You just look like the average attractive male adult.”
Satan perked up when Vance slipped out the word “attractive,” but thankfully he didn’t dwell on it. He swallowed a little heavily, and then he wondered why he was breathing if his heart wasn’t beating. But his attention was pulled by the Devil once more, quite a master at temptation.
“I choose to keep these features while I’m in hell,” he said with a shrug, beginning to take a few steps back into the room, hands clutched behind him as he paced comfortably. “Just the horns and the tail. Everything else is a bit overwhelming.” He used hand gestures to brush aside something that wasn’t there, almost like signalling there was more to his body than he displayed. “Plus, this form is much smaller than typical.”
“Wait,” Vance breathed carefully. He took a few curious steps forward. “‘This form’? What do you look like normally?”
“A rather rude question here in Hell, but you’ll get the hang of it,” Satan dismissed. “And besides, why would I tell you? Up until you were brought here, you were a bland human who just happened to stumble upon something unfortunate.”
Vance nodded. He had a fair point, and he made to take mental note to not ask of a demon’s true form. Did that mean he was going to meet other demons?
He was strangely comfortable with all of this, almost as though it felt right that he was here. Strange.
“Speaking of, what exactly is going to happen to me?” he inquired carefully, taking yet another step closer to the ruler of Hell and whatnot.
“I’m not going to kill you because you’re rather fun,” he said with a careful grin. “And you flattered me without being rather fake about it. I appreciate genuine compliments-- and interesting people. Weirdly enough, you seem too comfortable here. Are you not afraid? Has your people’s Bible and such not scared you down to your core? Most sinners here are trembling.”
Vance shrugged. “I’m an atheist, or- well I was. Maybe I’m agnostic now?” That warranted another laugh from the Devil, his eyes tilting upwards with grim amusement. “Also half of me thinks this is still a dream. I don’t usually process things until way later, anyways.”
“I won’t kill you then. You may be a fun little experiment to unleash.” His hand stroked his chin in thought, a bit dramatic as though he would be a drama student if he were in school.
Oh. Vance was never going to graduate, and his family would probably think he ran away. Wait, could he go home? Was he even stuck in Hell forever? For a moment, his throat tightened, but he didn’t have many more seconds to ponder those around him.
The Devil pounced forward with speed beyond Vance’s comprehension, his eyes blinking to see the man’s face right in his. A clawed hand suddenly reached out, nails sharp and black and piercing. Satan gripped tightly around Vance’s neck, taking his breath once more. The feeling of suffocation returned, and he began to claw at the demon’s hands.
“Your sentence in Hell shall be becoming one with us,” he whispered as his lips pressed lightly against Vance’s ear. His skin tingled despite the choking sensation, and within seconds, his body was thrusted backwards.
Vance tumbled down, down into the fiery pits of hell below, too breathless for even a scream as his stomach turned with his tumbling.
And then he woke up.
But this was not his room. And his heart did not beat still.
And his emerald eyes-- were now red.
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