The Devil paced back and forth, stroking his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully. Simon nearly yelled at him to hurry up and speak, but Satan merely smiled at him, causing him to drop his initial impatience. Then, he glared at Nefaria, who was curled in on herself on the other side of the room, sobbing. He found himself wishing she would drop dead, and had to turn away from her, lest he be moved to kill her himself.
"As I'm sure you remember," the King of Demons said abruptly, snapping Simon out of his thoughts of cold-blooded murder. The two locked eyes, and Satan moved closer. "There's a lot of history between your Angel and myself, far too much to give a full account of it. I know almost everything there is to know about them, and I know you're burning with questions." He gave Simon a sweet smile, but his eyes, no matter how beautiful and mesmerizing, could never hide the total hatred he held for Azraphael whenever speaking of them. "Well?" He chuckled, clasping his hands behind his back. "Are you going to stand there staring, or are you going to ask me something? I'll answer everything to the best of my ability."
"Why do you keep calling me your prodigy?" Simon blurted out without thinking about it. As much as he wanted to know more about Azraphael – and whether or not he should really put his trust in them – he couldn't deny his total confusion as to the Devil's choice term for him. "I've not thought about it too much until now, but now I want to know."
"Ah! I knew you'd come around to that eventually." With a flick of his wrist, Satan summoned a gilded scroll; it hovered next to him, and opened to reveal intricate illustrations, which all seemed to flow together to tell a story. Upon looking closer, Simon realized it was a miniature version of one of the tapestries hanging between the statues. "This," the Devil announced, "is an account of the Celestial War. Look here." He gestured to the first image; there were two beings, one black and one white, and they each had an army of similar-looking creatures behind them. "My mother turned against my father for his tyranny, and led those faithful to her into battle. I fought for her…she'd put it in my head that I would be a better ruler than my father, and convinced me to turn my back on him. She promised me power and glory, and I did get it, just not in the way I'd imagined." He moved his hand a few pictures down; it was of an Angel striking another down, and Satan held a distinct note of disgust in his voice when next he spoke. "This is the moment Archangel Michael delivered the blow that cast me down into the Abyss. It's also," his voice lightened again, and his grin widened. "The moment in which you came into Existence."
"What do you mean?" Simon was taken aback. He studied the image carefully, but couldn't find anything that fit in with what the Devil was saying.
"You see, when a Soul is damaged badly enough, it will fragment." He pointed to another image further down; there were two beings, one of which appeared to be Satan as he is now, and the other was of a scared and confused man with dark, curly hair, and grey wings. "Fragments will eventually develop into full-fledged Souls, should they not be reunited with their whole selves for a long enough time. Michael hit me hard enough to fragment me…and here you are, Icarus!" He flicked his wrist again, snapping the scroll shut, and making it vanish. "You were hidden from me for eons, and I've finally found you. Finally! After trillions of years of searching, scheming…hehe…slaughtering my way through the Multiverse…I've found you." For the briefest instant, Simon felt the sharp pang of fear that told him he was about to die. Seeing this, Satan laughed heartily. "No, no! I don't want to kill you! All this time, I've wanted to welcome you, to have you rule by my side!" He waved an arm towards the long table stretched across the far side of the room. To be more precise, he was gesturing to the throne in the center, and the slightly smaller one to its right. "I've been watching you throughout your current mortal incarnation, and I couldn't be more impressed with your potential."
"And what of Azraphael?" Simon cut him off before he had the chance to say anything more about his grandiose ideas, although he'd be lying if he said he wasn't at least somewhat interested in the Devil's proposal. He would need to take some time to process everything he'd just learned, but at the moment, he was fixated on the Angel that had rescued him. He was completely torn; part of him wanted to spit in the Devil's eye and denounce him completely, while another, much stronger part of him wanted to gather as much information as he could. The scientist in him just wouldn't quit.
"What about them?!" It was Nefaria who spoke, giving Simon a start. Upon looking at her again, he once more felt that ugly desire to kill her. What's worse, is that he relished it. "They let me suffer! They let you believe I was dead!"
"And if you don't shut up, I'll make you suffer even more!" Simon took a step forward, intent on grabbing the first object he could find in order to beat her brains in, but Satan held him back, and made him avert his gaze from Nefaria.
"She has a point, Icarus," the Devil patted his back gently, offering him a sympathetic smile. "Don't you see how much grief they've caused you? First, they deceived you, making you think they were just another student, and allowed you go on having feelings for them. Then, they abandoned you at the Academy, after flat out telling you why they'd gone there in the first place – to shut it down, to help the kids!" He swiveled around, fully facing Simon, and took him by the shoulders. The two locked eyes, and Simon couldn't stop himself from looking at those glinting rubies. "They allowed you to remain utterly obsessed with your goal of finding them again, and, if I may be so bold as to say…it ruined you." He gave a dramatic sigh and tossed his hair, moving away from Simon before continuing. "If not for their interference, you could have actually had a chance at leading a normal life after graduating. A small chance, I admit, but a chance nonetheless."
The weight of Satan's words was beginning to sink in, and Simon felt sick to his stomach. He'd never considered it before; Azraphael had always been an actor, and was capable of pretending to be anyone in order to complete their missions. As Sahl'resh had implied, not many Angels had the stomach to save Souls, and he was beginning to understand why that was. He thought back to that fateful night on the Academy's rooftop, and regretted his decision to open his heart. It wasn't the first time he'd found himself wishing he'd never done it, but he was beginning to wish for it to be his last. He snapped his eyes shut, his head beginning to spin, and couldn't stop the flood of memories from overtaking his mind. Tears began to stream down his face, and he bit his lip, drawing blood this time. The physical pain wasn't enough to distract him from the terrible aching in his heart.
"I'm sorry, but you need to gain a full perspective on the matter." Satan's voice was soft, now, and reflected Simon's inner turmoil. "They let you go on searching, and waiting, and just when you thought you were moving on…there they are!" He clapped his hands once, giving Simon a start. He glared at the King of Demons, and held his tongue, waiting for him to continue. "They've played a horrible game with your emotions, and I guarantee, if you were to ask them, they'd say they don't regret it." He gestured to Nefaria, who was once again curled up with her head on her knees. "Just look at that woman…she's another aspect of you, after all! That is what happens when Azraphael leaves collateral damage. They know it – Hell, all of the Angels do – but that monster doesn't care, and the other Angels aren't about to put a stop to it."
"No more…" Simon held his stomach, fighting back the urge to retch. He'd only end up dry-heaving, though, as he'd already emptied the contents of his stomach when he saw Nefaria's helmet. It took him up until that moment to realize that, somehow, he was physically in Hell, just like Nefaria. When he thought about it, it made sense. Every physical feeling was just as real and intense as it was in his own plane of Existence. From the back pain, to the nausea, he felt everything fully.
"No. More. More!" Satan laughed, throwing his head back. "Let's not forget our dear, sweet little Nefaria! Azraphael led you to desperation, don't you see? They allowed you to remain tortured with their memory for millennia, and as a result, you pulled Nefaria into this to try and put an end to their hold over you." He closed the gap between himself and Simon, and gripped his shoulders once more, firmer this time. "Don't you understand, Icarus? You've spent the majority of your life chasing a ghost, and holding on to ideas of Love that would simply never come to fruition!"
"But they said they Love me!" Simon could feel the fight being beaten out of him. His mind turned over and over again, struggling to grasp anything that would keep him grounded. He sunk his fingers into his hair, pulling on it as he clamped his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to maintain control over his thoughts. Don't they Love me? He thought, gritting his teeth. Don't they care?
"There is a certain type of Love that only Angels can experience," Satan declared, his voice solemn. "They do Love you…but not in the way you want them to." At this, Simon sank to his knees, biting back a cry of despair. Satan was right; he'd spent his entire life running after a shadow of hope, and there was nothing but suffering to be gained from it. He thought back to his last meeting with the Devil, and his statement finally made sense: "they're going to make you suffer."
"GOD DAMN IT!" Simon clenched his hair tighter, feeling some strands being yanked from his scalp. He didn't care; he welcomed the pain, anything to distract him from the screaming within his heart. Part of him wanted to confront Azraphael, and lay everything out, while another part of him wanted to hide from them completely.
"I think you're beginning to understand," the Devil sighed, kneeling in front of Simon. He brushed a lock of hair out of his face, then took his hands out of his hair. The scientist looked up at him, eyes puffy and still running uncontrollably. In that moment, he hated himself for his blatant weakness. "Azraphael may have given up their own brand of Evil, but they still commit Evil acts for what they think is 'the greater good.'"
"I don't know what to do!" Simon broke down, then, beginning to sob. "I want to be rid of them!" His heart clenched itself at those last words, but he ignored it, inclined to follow through with letting go of the Angel once and for all.
"I have a solution." Satan took his face gently in both hands, encouraging him to look once again into his ruby eyes. Simon waited, all the while biting back violent sobs. "What do you know of Prophecy, Icarus?" Simon bit his lip and shook his head, hoping that the Devil would understand that he knew nothing of the workings of Prophecy, other than it was possible to exist. "There is a particular version of one of Azraphael's mortal incarnations that is responsible for writing your path in life. Find this individual, this Prophet, and destroy them. From there, you can write your own story, without their meddling." He wiped Simon's tears carefully, not once breaking eye-contact. "I can give you the exact coordinates, but you must be responsible for their demise. Can you do this?"
"Yes!" Simon cried, jumping on his resolve. He couldn't stop himself from laughing as he wiped away his tears. There was a distinct sensation of sick joy overtaking him, and he loved it. He longed to be free; to be left to his own devices, and allowed to whatever he wished, without any outside forces meddling in his life. He looked to the King of Lies, waiting for instruction.
"Excellent!" Satan clapped his shoulders enthusiastically. "You're on your way to becoming your own man again! But first…we need to fix your physical state of being." He stood, then, pulling Simon up with him. "Hold still. I'm guessing you've been told that your injuries couldn't be fully healed. Whoever said that was lying through their teeth. I can have you back to normal in just a moment." That was all it took for Simon to feel a sharp betrayal in his heart – both Azraphael and Sahl'resh had claimed that he'd not be able to fully recover. He should have known they'd lie to him. After all, they were together, and undoubtedly working together to keep him down.
"DON'T TRUST HIM!" Nefaria screamed, capturing the attention of both men.
"I'll trust him before you," Simon snarled, baring his teeth. He couldn't stop himself from sneering at his counterpart, taking pleasure in her distress.
"Good choice," Satan mused, chuckling darkly. He placed a hand on Simon's lower back, then leaned in close, whispering in his ear. "Don't forget…she tried to kill you." A surge of hot energy shot through Simon's body; his damaged vertebrae screamed at him, and he nearly fell to the floor in agony. Before long, though, it was over. The heat radiated throughout his entire body for a few long moments, and then faded entirely, leaving him refreshed and completely pain-free. He took a few tentative steps back and forth, testing his strength. Satisfied, he returned the Devil's sinister grin. "And now you are whole again!" Satan laughed cheerily, giving Simon a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Let's get you ready for the task at hand, shall we? I don't suppose Erryll was gracious enough to leave you with instructions as to how to utilize my gift to you?"
"No," Simon bit back, his brow furrowing. "It only caused trouble for us all."
"I should have known better than to let him go without extremely specific directions." Satan let out a long sigh, his shoulders dropping. "Either he's just that stupid, or he wanted to watch you all squirm."
"Why not both?" Simon laughed, beginning to feel the freedom his uninjured body was giving him once again. He never realized until then just how much he'd missed being able to move about without pain or hindrance. "I can't say I blame him. Looking back on it, the antics we endured were quite comical."
"I'm glad you have a sense of humor about it!" Satan laughed with him, his body language betraying his sense of triumph. He snapped his fingers, conjuring the bowl of apples between the two of them. "I'll keep it simple. Take a bite of any one of these delectable fruits, and you will be blessed with a small piece of my own power. It's reserved specifically for you, as you are a fragment of myself." Simon had no hesitation, no second thoughts, before he grasped one of the apples and bit into it. Satan's smile turned absolutely malicious. A purple light wound its way around the Doctor's body, from his feet to the top of his head, and he found himself encased in an enhanced version of his old armor. It was made of a shining black metal with gold trim; it weighed more than the previous version, but he found he had no difficulty moving in it. He sneered, cackling triumphantly as he felt a new power surging through his veins.
"So," he chuckled, taking in the sensation of flexing his fingers in his mechanical glove. A bright blue orb manifested over the clock face on the outside of it, crackling with electricity. "What's next?"
"Here are your coordinates," the Devil summoned a tiny slip of paper with a jumble of letters and numbers. To anyone else, it would have been gibberish, but to Dr. Nefarious Tropy, it was the key to a new Reality. He took it, studying it carefully. "And here is your weapon of choice." He snapped his fingers, and Nefarious' old tuning fork manifested itself in his hand. "But before you go, I want to give you one more gift."
"You're too kind," the Doctor chuckled, half-bowing to the King of Demons. "What might that be?"
"You get to decide her Fate." Satan pointed to Nefaria, who shrieked in a mixture of defiance and terror at such a proposition. "She did, after all, try to kill you, and played with your emotions, just as Azraphael has."
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"Nefaria shrieked at him, plastering herself up against the statue she'd found comfort in. "I HATE YOU!"
"Good!" Satan laughed, baring his teeth.
"Do whatever you want with her," the Doctor growled, rolling his eyes. "I've no use for a traitorous bitch like her." To this, Nefaria whined in protest, and began to beg for his Mercy. He held up a hand to silence her, and shook his head. He wasn't going to hear it. Her time for pleading was over.
"I'll take it to heart," Satan nodded. He extended an arm, and an invisible force pulled Nefaria back into his arms. She tried to wrench herself away, but to no avail. "In fact, I'll take it to her heart!" He slammed a clawed hand into her back, and it broke through her sternum, holding her still-beating heart. She was stuck in a state of shock and disbelief, hardly able to register what was happening to her in that moment. The Devil leaned over and kissed her parted lips, which were opened wide, silently screaming. Then, Satan bent over and took a bite from her heart, ripping it out with all the malice and hate he could present in that moment. Nefaria fell limp in his arms, slowly succumbing to death. Nefarious merely winced at this macabre display, then turned his back to them both. He considered going straight to the Prophet, to end them before they had a chance to write his Fate, but decided instead to pay a visit to the Wumpa Islands beforehand. He typed in the coordinates on a holographic screen, which had manifested from the orb projected from his left glove.
"Where shall you go first?" Satan's voice was distorted now. "Straight to the point, or are you going to wrap up some unfinished business first?"
"The latter." Nefarious slammed the end of his tuning fork into the ground, causing a portal to appear in front of him. He didn't bother looking back at Satan and Nefaria's corpse before stepping through, and sealing his Fate.