Octavia awoke gasping for air with a splitting headache and a spinning sensation. There was a sharp pain in her forehead and right side, along with a warm feeling running from her head down to her side. Probably more blood. Figured. As if she hadn't lost enough of that already.
She felt dizzy. Everything around her was spinning. Her limbs felt like jello. A burning sensation overtook her chest and throat. One rub of her hand against her neck had it come back dripping red. Just as she had been on the mend from her previous injuries. Great. The bandages that had previously been on her skin were ripped to shreds and dotting the ground around her like confetti. Another topping on the shit-cake of a situation she was in that moment.
It didn't take long for the memories to return. Like a violent predator, Alastor had approached them when they were at their most vulnerable state. A fitting action for such a swick and twisted man. He hadn't even given her the chance to fully wake up before going in for an attack.
The last thing she remembered from her encounter was a tightening sensation around her throat. Colors had been dancing around her vision as she tried to scream, but nothing had come out. She remembered watching Moxxie have the same treatment bestowed upon him. In an instant, everything around her had gone black. She faintly recalled listening to the sound of a portal opening before her consciousness fully faded.
Wounded and racked with disorientation, Octavia slowly rose to her feet as she tried to catch her breath. She could feel the color coming back to her face, stumbling around the cell like a drunken fool.
On the floor next to her, she found Moxxie, not looking much better than she did. Both of them were racked with injuries and bleeding badly. Moxxie seemed to have hit the wall with his shoulder, as there was a large tear in the fabric on his right side along with a sickeningly long gash that made her nauseous. She had no idea how long the two of them had been out. It couldn't have been long, otherwise she would have died.
"Moxxie," she coughed as she poked his non-bleeding side to see if she could wake him up, "Moxxie….hey…you awake?"
It took a few seconds, but the demon began to stir soon enough. He glanced at her with bloodshot eyes and what appeared to be another missing tooth. Like her, his bandages had fallen off and were scattered across the floor. A trail of blood ran from his torso to the halfway point of the cell. Alastor must have thrown him further than she thought.
"What the fuck happened…?" Moxxie asked, trying to rise to his feet.
Octavia let out a cough and extended a hand to help him up. It took a few minutes, but they were both standing upright by some miracle by the end of it. Alastor seemed to have known what he was doing, injuring them to the point of causing the most pain possible without incapacitating them. Only a true sadist like him would possess such knowledge.
"The radio-sadist wanted to fuck with us again," Octavia spat, not caring that the camera's lights were glowing red behind her, "He hit you pretty hard. How ya feelin'?"
A flash of recollection across Moxxie's eyes showed that his memory of the incident was coming back. It seemed to be a pattern by that point: Constantly getting beaten and having to wait for the memories to return afterwards. She wondered if there had been even more beatings than she could remember, and that the memories hadn't resurfaced yet.
However, she had better things to worry about, and she threw those thoughts aside.
"I tried to stop him when I saw him going after you," Moxxie said, "But…that didn't work."
"It's not your fault," Octavia sighed, "It's Alastor's. He couldn't keep his damn hands to himself and wanted more of his sick fucking show," she took in another deep breath,
"I…I really fucking hope he didn't go off on the others too…"
"There's no way he didn't. That's how he gets his jollies, remember?"
"I hate it when you're right."
They both glanced at the cameras as they swiveled from side to side. She wanted to ask him about the plan. To make sure that they were still on the same page when it came to their efforts of escape. But one word out of her mouth would damn them all. Alastor would figure out what they were doing soon enough. She didn't know what he would do after that, but if the last few hours were of any indication, it wasn't going to be very pretty.
"Your voice…" Moxxie commented, "I know he had you by the throat, but that sounds bad…"
Octavia turned her head to show him the scars running across her neck, before replying in a raspy voice, "Yeah. He didn't like what I was saying. Guess he was trying to take my voice away or something. Figures."
"I remember," Moxxie replied, "You were lookin' pretty red back there. I thought he was going to go in for the kill, if I'm being honest."
"So did I. When he threw you into that wall, I thought it was over"
She heard the cameras whirr beside her, to which she responded with a middle finger. It didn't matter if Alastor saw it. If he wanted to find a way to hurt them, she knew he would do it regardless of her actions. There was no such thing as escalation with him. He had entered their cell with bloody intent from the start. He had simply been toying with them in the minutes leading up to their attack.
"Wish we had a working faucet right now," Octavia grunted, "I'd kill for a drink right now. Turns out getting beaten up by a cranky demon isn't very good for you. Who could've known?"
Moxxie gave a half-hearted smile before he began to rub his forehead.
"Did you hit your head?" she asked, "I know I bumped the side of my head when I hit. And it really fucking hurt, too. I have this fucking annoying ringing in my right ear that won't go away…:"
"I think I did," he groaned, "I saw a flash of white after I hit before everything faded. Probably a concussion with my luck."
"That sucks, man."
"Yeah…"
The two of them milled about the cell for a few more minutes as they gradually came to. She tried to clean some of the blood on the floor, but was useless. No matter what she did, their cell would still look like a murder scene.
Ignoring her dry throat was becoming harder and harder. She felt as if she hadn't had a drink in days. Alastor scratching her neck like a vampire certainly didn't help matters. He had come only inches from breaking the layer of muscle beneath the skin. If he had done that, she almost certainly would have died.
The scars ran across the front of her neck and around the right side. They almost looked like tally marks, arranged neatly in an eerily clean pattern on her skin and bleeding through the feathers that tried to conceal them. She looked like she had come out of a Dracula film.
As her and Moxxie fell into silence whilst trying to recover from their injuries, her mind began to wander. It always did. Like a child lost in a mall, her thoughts drifted away from the steady path that they had been on. She soon found herself overcome with worry. Images of her father laying dead in his cell filled her head. Alastor had opened a portal right before she had blacked out.
She wanted to break out today. One more day of waiting could be the difference between life and death for them. She wanted to see her father and make sure he was still alive. She wanted to be away from the prison and from Alastor forever. To never have to see him or worry about him harming her ever again.
Only nineteen, and she was undergoing torture that even melennia-old demons would shudder at. Alastor himself had only been in hell for ninety or so years according to legend. And yet his methods of cruelty transcended the fabric of time. Even after everything she had been through, she wanted to curl up and cry. Knowing that they weren't even safe in their cell put her on high alert. Her muscles were tense, even as they ached from their abuse at the hands of the Radio Demon.
The urge to give up was strong. The only bright spot was knowing that she would either be out of it or dead in two days. Even as her death would be painful and agonizing, she knew it would free her from Alastor's torment. Octavia still couldn't give up. The thought of success was becoming harder and harder to entertain, but she wouldn't give up. Ceding now would get them nowhere.
The simple thought of that bastard laying a hand on her father filled her with rage. Then sadness. Then rage again. Her emotions had been out of control the last week, and she had a feeling that she wasn't alone. Crisis tended to do that to someone.
Moxxie began to pace back and forth, before appearing to suffer another headache as he pushed himself to the ground. She wished she could have done something to help him. To have some sort of supplies, or powers, or any advantage. She would kill for just the slightest chance at getting the upper hand, especially as their escape plan seemed to become more and more like a fantasy.
And because the cameras were on, she couldn't say a damn word about it. Not unless she wanted Alastor to appear in their cell and kill them on the spot. Their last two encounters had already been near-fatal. Octavia wasn't a woman who wanted to press her luck. The last week had been proof enough that the odds didn't favor her. She wasn't anyone special in Alastor's eyes. She was just a pest that needed to be neutralized. A threat to his power and authority that could not be tolerated.
Closing her eyes, she wondered if it would be possible to catch a few more seconds of rest. Even though her heart was pounding and her breathing labored after her recent throwdown, she wanted to escape. To take refuge in the temporary nothingness to forget about what was coming for her. She still had a day.
And by some miracle, she managed to fall asleep. The dizzy feeling that came before she drifted off hinted that the slumber didn't come on its own. Alastor nearly suffocating her was probably playing a role, especially since she was still dizzy and lightheaded.
She didn't care, though. She wanted the rest. Even if it was temporary.
Her power-nap lasted a whopping five seconds before she was awoken by the sound of a crash coming from in front of her. She barely remembered closing her eyes, and judging by the position that she had woken up in, she hadn't been out for long. A few minutes at most.
The crashing sound had come from Moxxie, who was laying on the floor with his hand barely covering his head.
Aw shit…
What did you do?
Octavia was up on her feet in a flash as she ran up to the imp and made sure he was still alive. Even though she knew he was probably alive, just dazed, the uncertainty proved to be too much for her. Losing an ally and friend in such an anticlimactic way was not how she expected their journey to end. At the very least, they could have gone out in a blaze of glory.
"Moxxie?" she asked for the second time that day, "You alive?"
"Yeah…" he responded with his face on the floor, "I tried to walk. It didn't work."
"Got dizzy again?"
"Yep."
"I figured."
The two of them were in rough shape. She helped the imp to his feet as they both leaned against the wall again. It had become a place of refuge, where they could relax without tumbling to the ground, if "relaxing" was the right word for what they were doing.
Surviving another day in that cell felt like running a marathon to her. Every second was a fight, and Alastor continually made death seem like the better option. It was part of his plan. He was trying to break them. Under any other circumstances, she would have caved. She would have thrown in the towel and given him what he wanted.
But because Alastor had made it such a central part of his own little show, she wanted to push further and live out of pure spite against him. She would keep fighting to her last breath. Alastor wasn't going to get his show as long as her heart was still beating.
She was nearing the end of the race. Now it was an all-out sprint to the finish.
-o
As for Millie, she awoke feeling much like her husband: a searing headache, a fuckton of blood, and a few (probably) broken ribs. Alastor hadn't been easy on her either. In fact, she knew without a doubt that her assault had been a power move over Moxxie and Octavia. Alastor had threatened to injure the two of them whenever Millie or Blitzo or Stolas acted up. Who was to say he hadn't just done the same to them?
Bullfights in the arena, crashing tractors, streetbrawls in the Imp City back alleys. None of them could even hold a candle to the physical strain and battering of the last week. Millie considered herself a strong woman. She could handle things that most demons would bitch out on. Hell, it was why she had taken on the job that she did. Only the toughest of demons could survive under those circumstances.
She wondered how much blood she had left to lose. Alastor had taken most of it out of her, red streaks running along the floor around her. Her back had taken the brunt of the impact, and she cracked it loudly as she stretched. The cracking hurt, but it meant that her spine was still in one piece.
Clumps of her hair had fallen on the floor. She ran her fingers along the top of her head, feeling bald patches and gashes as her fingers moved along. On a normal day, she would have panicked at the sight of it. But her days had been far from normal.
To her right, Blitzo and Stolas were already trying to recover from their own injuries. Blitzo was bleeding heavily from his right side and had a dislocated shoulder. She knew that she was going to have to snap that back into place if they wanted a single chance at escaping.
Stolas was remarkably scot-free aside from a few cuts. She assumed his feathers were hiding most of the true injuries. He moved with sluggish steps towards his impish mate. One of his eyes appeared to be swollen, its red glow dimming to a dull pink.; She didn't know what that meant in terms of injuries, but safely assumed that it wasn't anything good.
Glancing at the cameras, Millie saw that they were still being watched. Alastor was certainly behind it. He was enjoying every second of his little show. To him, Millie was only a character. Someone to perform for his own amusement. Nothing more than a little plaything that he would throw away when he didn't need it anymore.
"Your shoulder ain't lookin' good, Blitz," Millie said as she sauntered to his side, "Let me fix that for ya before it gets worse…"
"Millie no-FUCK!" Blitzo started.
There was a loud crack as Millie forced the bone back into its regular place. Blitzo let out another yell of pain, before his cries died down and the discomfort seemed to fade. She hated hearing him yell, but it was necessary. If they wanted to escape, they had to be in tip-top shape. Any injured would mean the death of their chances. The end of their hope. Alastor had known what he was doing when he attacked them, that was already a given. He wanted them injured, but not dead. Not out of compassion, but because he wanted them alive for his grand finale. He needed them to be alive to be thrown into the pit. There was no doubt that he would enjoy every second of their screaming and suffering.
Which was why they had to avoid it.
"Thanks…Mills…" Blitzo muttered, "Hurt like a bitch though."
"Did ya want me to leave you like that?" she asked.
"No…"
There was a second of quiet before Stolas nervously glanced at the cameras as they swerved from side to side. He placed a hand over his dimming eye, Millie assuming that Alastor knocked the sight out of it.
"He did something to Via…" Stolas said, "I knew it."
"Did you think he was gonna just leave her like that?" Blitzo asked with brashness that wasn't appreciated, "He probably fucked Moxxie up too."
"Don't make me think about that," Millie said, "I don't even want to know what he did to him. If his fuckin' interview rooms are anything like what he did to Mox…it's gonna be bad. Really fuckin' bad."
"At least they have each other in there."
"That won't do much if that red bastard decides to go back in there!" Stolas barked, "I…I need to get in there. He's going to come back for them."
"Like we can do anything about it," she sighed, "Like it or not, he's the one in control. We can't do jack shit about it, and that's what I fucking hate. He can do whatever he wants and we're completely powerless. We're stuck here doing nothing while he's out there plotting our deaths."
They all looked at the cameras again, knowing that they couldn't speak a word about their escape plan. She could tell that it was on their minds. And why wouldn't it be? Having hope to get out of that hellhole was probably one of the only things keeping them moving forward.
Speaking of which, it had been a bit since they last saw Edrich. She hoped that he would return again. As much as she had despised him at first, she needed reassurance that the man that was going to save their asses was still alive and hadn't been taken out. Even though she knew he was probably fine, it didn't stop her from worrying. She was worrying about everyone. Moxxie, Edrich, Octavia. Everybody that had meant anything to her in her life aside from her parents were in mortal danger.
"I haven't gotten bitched around like that since we killed those cannibals…" Blitzo said, "Hurts like hell…"
Millie reflected on her time at I.M.P. How their entire situation had come from a single interview. An interview about one of their best kills. It felt like a different life, those few days when she was riding the high of pulling off the assassination that had rocked the mortal world. She didn't think that the president had been that notable, killing him with little effort on her own end. She had seen deer with more kick than them.
She wondered if perhaps I.M.P. would have it in them to pull off one more kill. A kill that would shake hell far more than murdering the president in the mortal world. Something that would give them cemented spots in hell's history. Millie had never imagined herself taking part in something so much bigger than herself. Alastor had seemed like an undefeatable beast at the start. And he still was, but she had enough screws loose that she was willing to try and take him down, even if it ended up killing her.
They made an unlikely group of "heroes." A farm-raised imp who stabbed bed frames in her sleep, a crackhead imp with an obsession with horses and cursing, two members of the Goetia family, a marksman with a niche for theater, and princess fucking Morningstar. A lineup that was straight out of a comic book.
"Remember how great it was after we killed that American guy?" Blitzo half-laughed half-choked, "That was awesome."
"That guy was the president, yeah," Millie said in a way that was very Moxxie-esque, "Those were a good few days. Really fuckin' wishing that gas-mask guy hadn't dragged us to the studio now though."
"You and me both, Mills."
Stolas finally ceased his pacing and forced himself to the ground. His heads were flipping back and forth as he anxiously tugged at his own feathers. She was amazed that the prince had any left to space. She felt pity for the poor man, having to feel the pain of knowing his daughter was hurt. Even though she and Moxxie had discussed it, they hadn't had a kid yet, and she could only imagine how it felt seeing your own kid thrown into the flames of such a dire situation. That on top of having to worry for their own safety. There was no telling when Alastor would come back and beat them. Millie found herself anxious simply thinking about it.
"Watch it there, birdie," Blitzo, "You're gonna be bald by the time you're done with that."
"I'm not in the mood right now, Blitzy," Stolas sighed, beginning to bend over and cover his face, "I…There's just… a lot to worry about right now-"
The owl suddenly let out a yelp as he clutched his right ribcage. His face contorted violently in pain. She could swear she saw a drop of blood pooling at his lip while his eyes began to bulge.
"Stolas!" Millie yelled, "What's goin' on?!"
"My fucking chest-" Stolas started before letting out a cough, "I…I don't know. I bent over…and something cracked and now everything fucking hurts…"
Alastor had definitely done that intentionally. Injuring him in such a way that he wouldn't feel it immediately. The man's calculated sadism made her sick to her stomach. He needed to be dealt with. And she planned on doing it soon.
"Can-can you breathe?!" Blitzo asked in a panic.
"Yeah-I think so…" the prince grunted, with a bit less of a wince this time, "It…it's hurting a bit less….I think he kicked me in the chest or something when I was out…dear Satan this fucking hurts…"
She wanted to go over and help him, but was at a loss for what to do. He seemed to be able to breathe, which was good in her eyes. Millie wasn't a doctor, so she could only sit there and hope that whatever was wrong would fix itself.
"I think…it's getting better…" he sighed, "Dammit…I want out of here."
"We all do, big guy," Blitzo said as he placed a gentle hand on Stolas's shoulder, "Just keep breathing…It'll be alright…"
Millie almost found it endearing to see a bit of Blitzo's emotional side. To see him doing something other than collecting horses and blowing shit up. Not that she didn't love that about him, but it broke up the monotony of his personality. In a situation as dark as theirs, she found it comforting. And she was a woman who would rather kill an entire city than let someone see her cry.
"Yeah," Millie said in an attempt to be encouraging, "You've got royal blood. That chest stuff will heal itself in no time. I'm positive."
"Sure," Stolas coughed, "But until then it's going to be fucking miserable."
"I'm sorry…"
"It's not your fault. Don't apologize. You're not the monster that did this."
Stolas glanced angrily at the camera, making eye contact with the lens as his coughing fit slowly came to an end. He wiped a few more drops of blood away from his face and clutched his feathers tightly to his chest.
And a certain demon was very entertained by it.
-o
As for Alastor, he was busy on the roof of his prison making the final preparations for the executions.
His soldiers had been hard at work making sure everything was going smoothly. Vox and Valentino had stood true to their duties, and it almost seemed as if things would be done a couple of days early. The corpses had been moved from the base of the pit, the lighting had been perfected, and they had constructed a platform over the edge to drop the prisoners from.
Iron bars had been placed in front of the prison doors, Alastor peeking down from the roof to see the material catching the glow from the fires below. It was his own personal heaven. Preparing for yet another show to please the masses, and to legitimize his power once and for all. The growing dissent was going to be subdued. If his plans held true, there wouldn't be a single rebel alive in a week. And that was how it should have been. Every demon was a cog in the carefully-tuned machine of hell's society. The deviants were causing nothing but destruction to the order that he had spent years trying to perfect.
He saw Valentino giving orders to a pair of soldiers setting up Xs on the floor.
"...we're gonna need at least twenty more of those," Valentino said, "And I don't want any fuck ups, unless you want to take a dip in the pit. Do you understand?!"
The soldier nodded as he got back to work, painting Xs on the roof as Alastor stepped over them.
"Things seem to be going smoothly," Alastor remarked, "I like that. Looks like you took my orders to heart."
Valentino gave Alastor a nod, "Yes. We've gotten everything done in record time. The Guard is on the way to check out the chaos by the bridge, we have soldiers at every door, the lockdown has been initiated, and we've taken care of the lighting and logistics up here. I hope everything is to your liking."
"It is. This is going to be the best show hell's gotten since the fall of Lucifer."
"Are we still on schedule for Thursday?"
Alastor pondered the thought. He had promised the show two days from where they currently were. Part of him wanted to wait the rest of the two days, but another one wanted to push the date forward. He couldn't help but suspect there was something brewing among the prisoners under his nose. Or, at least, they thought it was under his nose. Moving the execution would make more sense, wouldn't it? To make sure that everything went smoothly and without any hiccups.
Of course, it would still take a few more hours for him to finish the preparations. But a few hours seemed brief compared to two more days. The sun was already beginning to set on the red sky around hell. Setting on what he hoped would be the final sunset of turmoil in such a troubled land. Come sunrise, order would be restored. Alastor was going to make them pay.
"Prepare for tomorrow morning, six o'clock," Alastor said, "Don't let the word get out. I want it to be a surprise."
"Yes sir." Valentino replied.
The overlord rushed back to his post as Alastor stood at the balcony and overlooked the flames. Miles and miles of pure fire. He imagined his prisoners in the flames begging him to be let out as they underwent the worst pain that demons could endure. They would wish they had never treated him with such disrespect. Alastor was going to prove that his name was not to be mocked.
Tomorrow morning, sparks would fly, and prisoners would burn.
