Chapter Text
It was January, almost 12 months before the next Purge.
Vaggie sipped her drink but didn’t taste it, chewed her ice but didn’t feel it. She could barely feel the table under her fingernails. It had been hours and alcohol hadn’t helped the situation. Occasionally she would wring her hands to the point of white knuckles and dig her nails in her own arm but the pain didn’t phase her. She sobbed softly and cried slowly but held her composure. She was restrained, nary letting out the tears from her single working eye, the other having been replaced with an ethereal X on her face signifying an injury when she died. She had grey skin and wore her signature white blouse and mismatched blue-grey arm and leg socks. She was a sinner, a former human who's eternal soul has manifested in hell for their eternal punishment.
Vaggie’s sole focus was now on a small red creature on the other side of the bar with his own growing collection of drinks. More specifically she was laser focussed on a gold ring that he played with on the counter top. His eyes were naturally yellow but were now red rimmed and tired, cheeks stained with tears that flowed more freely than hers. He wore a full tuxedo with coattails and a deflated red bowtie. He was an imp, a creature naturally born of hell. He looked like a relatively soft specimen but she knew that looks could be deceiving. Her own form was skinny and lithe belying her skills in combat. The imp was distinguished by others of his kind by slightly larger and curvier horns, white freckles, more needle-like teeth, and digitigrade legs.
The imp played carelessly with the gold ring, fiddling and spinning it, dropping it in his empty glasses before dumping it back out. His eyes remained on the ring the entire time though revealing its importance. Vaggie’s thoughts were drawn back to what brought herself here in the first place.
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Vaggie hefted a stack of boards into the storage of the hotel that had become the center of Charlie’s dream to help rehabilitate sinners. Charlie was the Princess of Hell. She had stark white skin, prominent rosy cheeks, blonde hair, and wore a tasteful pink tuxedo jacket. It was the day after the Angelic Purge, and there were boarded windows to open, stray bullet holes to patch, and wayward survivors that could use a bandage. Providing medical aid was grisly work but they made goodwill among the neighbors for it.
“Vaggie can I talk to you for a minute?” asked Charlie.
“Sure, whats up hon?” Vaggie asked, dusting off her gloves absentmindedly.
“I wanted to talk about you and I possibly... taking a break,”
“Is now really a good time for a vacation? We need to keep a close eye on Angeldust,”
Charlie chuckled nervously. “I was more talking about taking a break from each other. But a more permanent break.”.
“Where is this coming from? Charlie I- I don’t understand,” said Vaggie.
“Listen I don’t understand it either but there’s something that’s come up. Some*one* that’s come up and I just can’t deny what I feel for him.”
“Who? How?” Vaggie felt her heart beating fast. She couldn’t accept what she was hearing. She put her face in her hands and tried to hide away as tears threatened to spill out.
“How? Well who knows. As for who, it's yours truly. I guess I’m just irresistible to some folks,” A third overly happy voice interjected. It was Alastor, the radio demon. A sinner of immense power and cruelty with an unnaturally permanent smug grin. He slid into focus with an arm around Charlie's waist. He was a fairly tall, fairly human looking, with ash grey skin and a well tailored blood red suit.
“Charlie, if this is your idea of a joke, it's not funny.” Vaggie growled.
“It’s not a joke Vaggie,” said Charlie. Alastor chose this moment to lean down and pepper Charlie with kisses, making her giggle as she tried to fend him off. “Quit it Alastor, this is serious!”
“But how can you be with him! He’s terrible. Is there some sort of spell going on like what the Hell!” said Vaggie with clenched teeth.
“There’s nothing weird going on Vaggie. It’s just that I’m a demon and...” Charlie trailed off.
“What Charlie is trying to say is that these things just happen to demons sometimes, and there's no way around it. I’m sure you can come to understand and I hope you won’t hold it against Ms.Magne here,” said Alastor, with a smile and chipper tone.
Vaggie looked at Charlie with a horrified expression.
“He’s right, Vaggie. It’s not something I can control. We just need to move on as best we can,” said Charlie. Vaggie was stunned.
“Why don’t we give her some time, Dear,” said Alastor. He and Charlie both left with her sparing an apologetic glance.
“But-but everything was going so well,” said Vaggie to an empty room.
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Abruptly the imp stood up and went to the mens toilets, leaving the ring on the counter. Vaggie gripped the table in a panic, anyone could just walk by and swipe it. She scanned the bar for any offenders but the only other occupants were slumped over their own drinks with dead fish eyes. Long seconds passed as she waited for the imp to emerge. When he finally did, he just walked past the ring without another glance and exited the bar.
Vaggie scrambled out of her seat. She didn’t know why but this was life or death for her. She ran across the bar and swiped the ring with trembling hands, attracting a few strange glances, before chasing after the imp.
“Wait! You forgot your ring!” yelled Vaggie. She stumbled after him. He didn’t stop walking until after several calls. She chased after him, puffed out another utterance to his face, and held the ring out to him. He made no move to take it. He turned his tired eyes to hers, looking but not seeing. “You- you forgot your ring. You need to keep it.”
“Why,” said the Imp with a slight edge to his voice.
“You need to keep it because it’s important. It’s a promise to- to your girlfriend you’ll always be there for her,-” Sobs overtook Vaggie and tears began to run freely from her eye. “A-and she will be there for you. And she won’t- she wouldn’t-” Vaggie trembled, sinking to her knees, and nearly dropped the ring. She could barely form words let alone sentences now.
The Imp looked at her with those same unseeing eyes. Slowly he reached out and grabbed her hand, steadying it. He plucked the ring out and put it back on his finger. He stared at the ring as if it disappointed him.
“You’re right. Thank you for reminding me,” said the Imp. This soothed Vaggie somewhat and she held her sobs as best she could. He reached into his jacket and handed her a bar napkin to wipe her tears with a mumbled “Here.” She accepted the napkin with thanks. He spared her another moment before leaving her a crumpled mess in the street.