Chapter 1 - A Deal With The Devil
Cobra stirs and groans, elongated ears twitching as they're filled with deafening screams. In all his twenty-six years of life he never wanted to rip off the damned things as much as he did right then. No matter how much he struggles to just block our the internal bellows, his magic refuses to obey him, and that in itself is alarming.
"What the fuck" He moans in pain and rolls to his side on the hard flooring. For a few painful moments he assumes he's laying on his cell floor, as always. Back in that nightmare-ish hell where the only thing he had to entertain himself was his occasional interactions with Lahar or the staff. But it doesn't take more than another minute of agonizing screeching for him to realize that cant possibly be the case. Hell, he shouldn't even be feeling anything right now. If memory serves him, he just had his head chopped clean off. Then again, he cant barely think straight right now. Its only been two fucking minutes and hes starting to question his sanity. This surely has to be some cruel and unusual punishment Lahar whipped up just for him. What is that bastard doing, executing the entire prisons population in the room over? No, if it was death that was causing those shrieks it would end along with their life. Torture maybe. Although that priss would be too worried about getting blood on his boots to even begin to stoop so low.
"Entertained are you?" A baritone voice chuckles sadistically. Entertained? Oh yes, he's in fucking heaven alright. Or rather, he would be, if it wasn't so damn loud. Its no secret that he thoroughly enjoys the suffering of others, but any criminal as sadistic can tell you its not nearly as satisfying when your not the one inflicting the pain. He would be over the fucking moon for this little internal show taking place just beyond his skull, but the aches in various parts of his body, especially his head, is putting quite the damper on his good time.
"Oh yea." He snorts sarcastically. His single eye opens to face the man, and hes instantly met with the blinding red glow of what he can only assume to be a lamp hanging above him. His whole Lahar theory is broken when he realizes all too quickly this is definitely not his cell. Last time he checked, his cell wasn't two hundred degrees with walls a century high. He blinks in surprise and leans up to take a look around. A pale peach room bathed in a red demonic glow with an alarming lack of doors. the only furniture is a simple stone desk, office chair, and a metric fuckton of paperwork, with absolutely no one in it. Great. Hes doomed to eternal paperwork. How does one even go about getting him in here?
"This is your room. You just... end up here. We don't need doors here" He laughs demonically. Who he is? Cobra doesn't have the slightest clue. His voice seems to radiate from everywhere, and the fact that he just answered his damned thoughts makes him very uncomfortable. He listens to other peoples souls, not the other way around.
"Oh let me guess, I'm in hell and I'm cursed to forever sit in this room because I'm an asshole?" He rolls his eyes, only half expecting that to be the case. He wasn't a religious man, never was. He didn't believe in a god or devil, heaven or hell, ect. He didn't waste his time praying to a higher being for fortune, he went out and took it for himself. He didn't put his faith in anyone but himself, and that went for any higher being that may or may not exist as well. Even now, as evidence of those higher beings is being set on his doorstep, he couldn't be bothered to give a fuck. Even if this is indeed hell, in all its pink wallpapered glory, why should he sit here and waste his thoughts on the god that had -albeit for good reason- rejected him? Cobra groans for the third time now and runs an aching hand back through his hair. This is ridiculous.
"Oh but your sarcastic accusations are correct! This is hell! And you are cursed to this room! Forever! Everyone is cursed to rooms! My most wicked punishment, rooms!" The mysterious voice quickly flips to a very peppy tone, even giving an malicious cackle at the end to add to the whole fucking insane factor. He's got to be kidding right? Theres no fucking way all the assholes of the world just get shoved into a room for eternity. Who has that many rooms? He definitely doesn't doubt he's the only one in this situation, though. Not with the soul shaking wails coming from everywhere. Granted, he was able to block them out a tone, but they still are definitely there. Their internal suffering is just enough for him to not question the legitimacy of what hes saying, knowing that there is no way unless in hell that such a insane amount of just overall displeasure to happen simultaneously.
"This is the waiting room." The voice says flatly after leaving the slayer a few moments to his thoughts. Cobra runs his hand over his face and falls to lay on his back. You know, hes starting to see why this is where people are sent to suffer. Its got fuckasses like this guy. What is he, a secretary?
"I am not! I, am Astaroth. You know, Satan? The devil? Mephistopheles? The personification of evil itself?! Ring a bell?" 'Satan' bellows, only adding to his oncoming migraine.
"Waiting room. Yea. Then why the fuck am I the only one here?" He directs his eye to the ceiling, as if 'Satan' is sitting just behind it, no doubt with a big ass megaphone in hand just to sound powerful. No, if he had to guess this 'Satan' character would be more like a hundred foot tall red skinned asshole standing above the worlds most complex dollhouse. The thought of the giant monstrosity playing dolls with all the jackasses of the world like a child elicits a small chuckle despite all his internal comfort.
"That is because this is the Mage waiting room. If I had everyone falling into the same waiting room it would just be a mess."
"So yea, waiting room? Waiting room for what? The largest human barbeque?" Even as Cobra sits on the heated stone floors, with an aching body and an oncoming headache that would no doubt bring him down to the same agony as everyone else in this damned place, he still takes it upon himself to be just as much of a snarky asshole as before.
"No. Though we do have the roasting chamber. Don't worry, with your background, I'm sure you will be paying it a visit very soon"
"Okay... So what exactly do you do with people then?"' He lets his curiosity get the better of him. Really, he wanted this devil guy to just throw him in the human oven and be done with it. He's gonna end up there anyway right?
"Oh I'm so glad you asked! You see, hell is a very complex system. Has to be when you house all the sinners of Earthland" With a echoed snap the room flips completely, sending the poor mans heart into his throat as he quickly falls to the ceiling. He closes his eye and braces for impact that never comes. Its several seconds of feeling weightless before he finally opens his eye. Its.. another room. Its much bigger, yea, but it has the exact same peach walls and hanging lamp. The only difference is the fifty or so people laying in their own blood with dead white eyes. most are on their back, completely ass naked, staring up to the ceiling. Cobra actually finds himself severly disturbed,
"I have a number of rooms like this. Its where all the boring people go. Mostly civilians. You can hear their thoughts cant you? So utterly uninteresting." The low voice whines not unlike a child would when its bored.
No, cobra cant hear them, how could he with the ridiculous amount? Maybe this room is just a small group but what about all the neighboring rooms? Does he even realize he can hear everything within at least a fifty meter radius? Dumbass. Another snap echoes and this time he doesn't close his eyes. He watches as his spun upside down and drops once again. Only this time he actually his the floor, and fuck does it hurt. He barely notices the fact he's back in the waiting room as he rolls to his back and clutches his shoulder, hissing in pain. Oh yea, just o and ragdoll his body around as much as you please satan, he definitely doesn't care. Its not like his a mortal human with flesh that can be torn and bruised and blood that can be spilled. Of course not.
"There are many other rooms in which people go, but that would take more time than I'm willing to spare on a mere human like you" Satan scoffs. Well its not like he wanted a tour a=on all his fucked up rooms.
Actually, that was exactly the case now that he thinks about it. He can only be left to wonder what could possibly be in the rest what freakish torture methods the devil himself as conducted. But that line of thought can wait, he does have an eternity after all.
"And which one of those damned torture chambers are you putting me into?" He says all too confidently. He'll be damned if he lets the aspect of sitting in one room for the rest of his life, subjected to various forms of suffering, get to him. He was imprisoned for practically most his life, he was fuckinf raised in the Tower of Heaven for fucks sake. He's already been through his whole life, this is just normal for him.
"Oh how I would love to break that resolve of your but.. I'm obligated to make you an offer"
"A deal with the devil? Cliché." He mutters, finally bringing himself to sit. His body definitely still hurt, it hurt even before the fall, but he was never one to let pain get to him.
"There is no deal, you are simply doing my bidding"
"And if I don't?"
"You will." Cobra arches an eyebrow at the all too quick response. He will huh?
"Just what is this 'deal' then?" His deep chuckle only piques his interest further.
"Oh I'm sure you will find it quite... interesting. Fun, even. Knowing the type of person you are, sadistic and-"
"Just answer the fucking question" Cobra cuts in before the being could go any further. He asked what the deal is, not for him to show off his extensive knowledge on his life (He still doesn't even know how he knows so much anyway, but he doubts hed get an answer out of that question. Definitely not a short one anyway).
"Alright alright. I'm assigning you to a human, one you may be somewhat familiar with if I'm correct? It will be your job to haunt, terrorize, and corrupt this given human by whatever means necessary."
Cobra hums in thought, considering the offer. Someone he's familiar with? Theres not many people he knows that he wouldn't be willing to terrorize. Theres also not many people he knows that aren't already corrupted. Not to mention he isn't going to just jump at the chance to fuck with someone just because he's an asshole. He's passed the point of goin out of his way to ruin some guys day a long time ago. If someone stands in his way, he wont hesitate, that much is true, but why waste his time 'corrupting' someone? And for what reason? Really, when he thinks about it, it doesn't seems like this would be something he's be willing to do at all. Not to mention hes not even getting anything out of it.
"Oh no no no, you misunderstood. You have no choice. I need a secretary that will comply to my wishes and it is your job to take the woman I chose to be suitable and turn her to, as I like to call it, 'the dark side'. You do not have a choice"
"Oh but I do. You can threaten me but you cant force me" Cobra chuckles, comfortable with having the upper hand in the matter. If Satan here can just force his every move and make him, its no different than Satan just doing it himself. In that case, who's really the winner?
"Your sounding like a child Erik."
"A child that has the upper hand" He crosses his arms, knowingly letting himself look like part of the child too.
"I was going to tell you some other important things but since you want to be a prick about it, bye bye Erik my friend"
He was certain that when he heard that snap once again he'd be put in some torture chamber and left to rot until he sunk into insanity or changed his mind. So when a clear blue sky engulfed his vision he was a little confused to say the least. It isn't until he turns himself around does he see earthland, and just how fast its getting larger. He struggles to breath as his head floods with panic. As intelligent and quick on his feet as he is, his brain completely shuts down just then. He can only stare in horror as he plummets, praying to whatever higher being may or may not exist that this is some joke.
Judging by the pain that erupts through his body as he collides face first with a river, it most certainly is not a joke.
The last thing he can remember is the side of his body slamming the bottom of said river, and darkness filling his vision.
You know, that human barbeque doesn't sound so bad right about now.
A/N: Ah this seems way too short but I had to start this off somehow huh? Anyways, I had this idea one night from rewatching Welcome To Hell by Erica Wester on YouTube. So credits go to that for the idea. I'd like to say right now that I have no idea where the hell I'm taking this and I'm not very experienced in regards to writing I just thought this kinda thing would be interesting. ((Also sorry for any grammatical/spelling/ect errors this is kinda just a way to pass the time when I'm bored so I'm not going to be pressuring myself to go back and fix issues until perhaps when its finished, sorry))
Thanks for reading 3