“…You still there, Voxxy baby?” It didn’t take too long for Valentino’s voice to snap him back into reality.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Vox muttered, his scarlet eyes scanning the darkness cautiously, he couldn’t afford getting hurt after all. “Just a distraction.”

“Ay, you gotta focus, amor. We’ve got—”

Vox cut him off. “I’ll call you back.” He ended the call abruptly, something in the periphery of his vision demanding his full attention.

In a narrow alleyway, half-hidden by the shadows, lay a figure that defied the macabre scenery of Hell. An angel, her body barely stirring, her wings shattered and leaking rivulets of golden blood. The celestial light that should have emanated from her was dim, almost extinguished, her divine essence tarnished by the fall.

He approached cautiously, the chaos of Hell momentarily muted by the gravity of the sight before him. Her wings, symbols of purity and divinity, were grotesquely twisted, the golden blood forming luminous pools on the grimy ground and staining the surface of her pristine silky robes.

She remained unconscious, her breaths shallow, her face a mask of ethereal beauty marred by pain. Vox’s screen flickered, his processors struggling to comprehend the sight.

“Well I’ll be damned…”