A God

That was something he'd always seen himself as because that's what he is, a god amongst the pathetic crowd of human who desperately need him to save them. He'd never outright say it himself, that'd be tricky, given he heavily had Christian followers and even he knew the crowd would grow bitter of him if he dare say out loud how he practically is a god.

Yet he knew the public treated him like one, worshipping him, following his every word, supporting him no matter what, seeing and treating him like a gift from heaven itself, and he loved it.

But then you came along.

Large, soft, fluffy feathers adorning and sprouting from your back and forming into wings, angel wings, a literal angel stood amongst The Seven now, you, and the public fucking loved it.

And it quickly grew dangerous, the public began to praise and worship you, more than him, because given the public didn't know shit about compound V, they truly believed you had been a gift sent from god up above.

You'd become a threat

He'd read the bible before, not because he genuinely believed in that crap, but because Vought needed him to promote it to make the big bucks. But he'd read about you, you were an angel no less, the public knew that everyone knew that.

He knew it as he watched you, waving and smiling along his side as they walked down another premiere for some shitty supe movie of them, all of The Seven focused on smiling and answering questions for paparazzi, all but him.

Because he was realizing now, you were lucifer, and he was god and you, like in the bible, would soon come to try and overtake his place, his spot, his power and authority, and the mere thought of that happening made his blood boil.

Because you were lucifer, and despite lucifer having risen to the top like you were now, he'd had his great fall, and now, it was your turn to fall

Pale blue eyes flickered back to you, standing beside him, taking the spotlight from him, his mind scheming silently to himself

He has to kill you