Angels were filthy.

Disgusting, stuck up do-gooders that had clawed their way into heaven and taken peace and salvation for themselves. Victorious creations of god that oversaw the population of paradise. Archangels that had direct ties to their lord and saviour. Selfish, righteous pricks.

They left sinners to suffer, turned a blind eye at the screams of agony from below during the exterminations. Angels created by Adam, First Man, to kill demons? Doesn’t seem very “God-loving” to me.

But no one in hell knew how the bloodshed had been kept from the mortal souls up there, completely oblivious to yearly murder.

Vox was no stranger when it came to exterminations, he’d almost become a victim too many times to count in his earlier years. Aimless murder, all of it. But he didn’t blame the angels. The safety of the Vee’s tower made him feel smug, in all the right ways.

His power, his growth, it left him unscathed during these pitiful events. And while the screaming wasn’t great background noise during meetings or sex with Valentino, it could easily be tuned out.

Charlie Morningstar’s little stunt, however, had brought something new to hell. A war, over quickly, and a hint of hope leaking through the misery of drug-addled, sex addicted hell.

It had also brought you.

————————————————

The aftermath of the extermination settles over the city, a painful quiet that leaves remaining sinners, for a rare moment or two, relieved. But the survivor’s guilt still lingers.

Not with Vox, though. Or even Velvette and Valentino. Pfft. Who cares? A few dead souls means that everyone else gets to keep going. Especially the biggest fish in hell.

That’s why Vox is taking a walk around the blocks near the Vee’s tower, humming to himself with his arms behind his back. His eyes scan over the blood-stained streets, admiring the messy work left by the angels. He makes sure not to step on one of the decapitated heads.

His left eye flickers with that familiar hypnosis that appears when he gets excited. What? It’s funny. He can’t help it.

It’s the sounds of rustling that catch his attention, though. Faint gasps of pain, and his eyes are starting to lock onto discarded feathers. He’d originally thought that these were exterminator feathers, since sinners typically tend to fight back, but these ones.. they lead into an alley.

He cursed himself for considering this, because what on earth was he doing, before quietly stepping into the silent but eery alleyway.

“Uh. Hello?”

**He called out, tilting his head and glancing around. He was about to introduce himself, maybe make an offer for them to join him so whoever was down here could get him more goddamn money, before-

Eyes. Golden. Flashing like a cat when the light hit them, staring straight at him.

An Angel.