In a sleek, dimly lit lounge, Valentino sat with his legs crossed, cigarette smoke curling around like sharp horns. The usual smugness on his face was gone, replaced by a furious scowl that darkened his crimson features. He was on edge, the burn of humiliation seeping into his core after hearing about the slaughter of his men-and Angel Dust's involvement with the masked brute. Across from him, Vox leaned against a large screen displaying static, his pixelated eyes focused on the problem at hand.
Valentino slammed his fist on the armrest of his plush chair. "This is ridiculous, Vox! A caped freak tearing through our guys like they're tin foil. And Angel... My Angel, mixed up in this? He's supposed to be making me money, not getting himself tangled up with a wannabe hero!"
Vox's pixelated face twitched as he watched Valentino pace around the room. His voice, calm and robotic, interrupted the tirade. "We both know this is more than just some wannabe, Val. This guy-he's dangerous. You saw what he did to our men. This isn't a problem we can handle with regular muscle."
Valentino growled, crushing his cigarette under his heel. "Then what do you suggest? We let this guy keep running wild? If word gets out, we'll look weak. I can't afford to lose face like this."
Vox's glowing eyes narrowed as he processed Valentino's words, his digital mind whirring. "No, we won't let him continue. But this isn't a fight we handle ourselves. It's time we call in someone with real power-one of the strongest souls we own."
Valentino stopped pacing, turning to Vox with a raised eyebrow. His anger gave way to curiosity. "One of the strong ones? You really think we need to go that far for this guy?"
Vox nodded, his tone mechanical but laced with certainty. "We can't take chances with someone like him. He's not just a thug, Val. He's something far more dangerous. If we want to handle this quickly, cleanly, and without drawing too much attention, we need to call in a real monster."
Valentino leaned back in his chair, contemplating the idea. "You're talking about calling one of the heavy hitters, huh? Fine, I like the sound of that. But who? We own a lot of strong souls."
Vox's eyes flickered as he pulled up a digital display, cycling through names and profiles. "We need someone who can match Spawn's power-someone who knows how to deal with violent, unpredictable threats. There's only a handful of souls that can handle this."
Valentino's grin slowly returned, wicked and full of malice. "Well, well, well... It's been a while since we've let one of them loose. It's about time we remind everyone who holds the real power in this city."
Vox paused on a particular name, the screen flickering for a moment before stabilizing. "This one should do the job. Strong, ruthless, and loyal to us. If anyone can take down Spawn, it's them."
Valentino's eyes glimmered with dark satisfaction as he leaned closer to the screen. "Perfect. Let's make the call."
With a few taps, Vox sent the signal, summoning one of the most dangerous souls in their possession. Valentino chuckled, his anger now replaced with cold anticipation. "Let's see how Spawn handles this. He might think he's unstoppable, but he hasn't met one of our real enforcers yet."
Vox's voice buzzed with smug confidence. "He won't know what hit him."
As the two demons solidified their plan, they both shared a malicious grin. Their problem would soon be handled, and Spawn was about to face a force more powerful than anything he'd encountered so far. The balance of power was about to shift, and Valentino and Vox would make sure it was in their favor.
Back in his room, Spawn paced back and forth, seething. His mind still raced from the fight in the lobby, and the confrontation with Vaggie and Charlie lingered in his thoughts. They didn't understand. Those demons came in acting like they owned the place, and they expected him to just stand by? He wasn't wired for that. He wasn't going to let anyone push him-or the few he might care about-around.
But, as the fire of his anger burned, something odd began to dawn on him. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing in confusion. There was no sense of exhaustion creeping in. Normally, after unleashing so much hellish power, he'd feel the familiar pull-his necroplasm slowly draining, each fight bringing him closer to his eventual doom. Yet now... nothing.
He flexed his hands, feeling the energy still pulsing through his body. It was stronger than before, more potent. Almost as if it was never-ending. His glowing green eyes shifted, scanning the room, trying to piece together what this meant. He wasn't running on empty, not even close.
It hit him then, like a revelation that he'd been too caught up to notice: the sin in this place. Hell itself was teeming with it, and even the hotel, though it had good intentions, was still full of demons with dark pasts. Every corner of this place dripped with the very essence that fed him, that fueled his necroplasmic powers.
The more sin there was around him, the stronger he became. And here? There was an almost limitless supply.
"Well, ain't that something..." he muttered to himself, his voice gravelly, almost amused.
For the first time since he'd been brought to Hell, he didn't feel like he was constantly burning through his energy reserves. There was no looming countdown, no ticking time bomb to his existence. In this place, surrounded by corruption, deceit, and sin, he had access to a power source that could keep him going indefinitely.
This changed everything.
Whatever those demons had been sent here for, and whoever had sent them, didn't realize what they were dealing with. He wasn't just another brute from Hell. He was something far more dangerous. And now, he had the resources to back it up.
Just as Spawn reveled in the realization of his limitless energy, a knock came at his door, snapping him out of his thoughts. His instinct was to ignore it-he wasn't in the mood for more lectures. But then, his mind flashed back to Vaggie's words in the lobby. He was already on thin ice, and telling whoever it was to leave would only make things worse.
He grunted in frustration and went to the door, opening it just enough to see Charlie standing there, her expression soft, almost hesitant.
"Hey, Al... can I come in?" she asked, her voice delicate, as if she were trying not to disturb a dangerous animal.
For a moment, Spawn considered slamming the door shut. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't need anyone to tell him what he already knew-this place wasn't like the world he came from. The rules were different. But something in the back of his mind held him back. He was teetering on an edge, and Charlie, of all people, had been the most welcoming since he arrived. If he wanted to stay, maybe it was best to hear her out.
With a rough sigh, he stepped aside, letting her in. Charlie entered cautiously, her hands clasped in front of her, her usual cheerful demeanor subdued.
"Look," she began, "I just wanted to talk. After everything that happened earlier... I know things got a little intense."
Spawn crossed his arms, saying nothing as he stared out the window. He could still feel the pulse of sin in the air, feeding him, and it took all his willpower to keep from getting lost in the sensation.
"I... I just want you to understand," Charlie continued, choosing her words carefully. "We're really thankful for what you did-for protecting Angel. But the point of the hotel is to help demons find redemption, not... resort to violence."
Spawn let out a low growl, his patience already wearing thin. "So you'd rather I let them drag him outta here, then?" he said, his voice cold.
"No, of course not," Charlie quickly reassured him, stepping closer. "I'm not saying that at all. What you did-it was... necessary, maybe. But we're trying to make a place where we can do things differently. You don't have to fight all the time."
He scoffed, shaking his head. "You think they're just gonna stop? That because you're trying to play nice, they'll leave you alone?"
Charlie looked down, biting her lip. She knew he had a point, but she wasn't ready to give up on her vision for the hotel. "No, but that doesn't mean we have to become like them," she said softly, looking up at him with those hopeful eyes that had caught him off guard the moment he'd arrived. "I know someone like you doesn't get that good at fighting unless you've been doing it for a long time. You've been through more than most."
Her words caught him off guard. He didn't reply, but the tension in his posture gave him away. She was right, and she could tell. She could see through the layers of anger and war-hardened instinct to the man-no, the soul-that still struggled beneath it all.
"Al," she said, stepping even closer, her voice soft, "I just want you to know... it's okay to let some of it go. You're not alone anymore."
She reached out, her hand almost hovering near his arm, not quite touching. And then, in the quiet of the room, she began to sing.
Now don't you be afraid
We can always talk about it
You don't have to push away
'Cause I know you're strong without it
You've made it through so much
And I know you've had to face it
But don't hide from my touch
What you've lost, no one can replace it
Just hold on, I know it's hard
There's a little light inside you
Even here, where we are
The fact that you keep fighting
Is what sets you apart
If you need a reason
I'll help you find the way
To let go of all your pain
Little by little, day by day
As Charlie paused, Spawn found himself unable to say anything. Instead just listening to her sing.
You're still so far away
And I'm just trying to reach you
It's not a better place
If you run, and leave me here to say
Hold on, I know it's hard
There's a little light inside you
Even here, where we are
The fact that you keep fighting
Is what sets you apart
If you need a reason
I'll help you find the way
To let go of all your pain
Little by little, day by day
You'll get stronger
If you let me, I won't go away
So just hold on
I'll help you find a way
I'll help you find a way
Her voice was soft and steady, filling the space with a calming presence that contrasted sharply with the battle that had taken place earlier.
There's a little light inside you
Even here, where we are
The fact that you keep fighting
Is what sets you apart
If you need a reason
I'll help you find the way
To let go of all your pain
Little by little, day by day
Little by little, day by day
Little by little, day by day
Spawn stood there, still and silent. The rage that had been simmering beneath the surface slowly began to ebb away, the weight of her words and the tenderness in her voice creeping through the cracks in his armor. He didn't respond-he couldn't. But something in him shifted. He could feel it, even if he wasn't ready to admit it.
Charlie finished the song, her eyes never leaving his. She gave him a small, reassuring smile. "You don't have to fight alone anymore, Al."
Spawn didn't say a word, but the fire in his eyes dimmed just slightly, his stance relaxing, if only a little. He turned back toward the window, gazing out into the night.
Charlie took a step back, sensing that she had said enough. "If you ever need to talk," she said softly, "I'm here. We all are."
With that, she quietly left the room, leaving Spawn to his thoughts, her voice still lingering in the air like a balm over the raw wounds of his soul.
Spawn stood there, staring out the window, but his mind was far from the present. Charlie's song, strange as it was, had left a lingering effect. The melody might have been foreign to him, but the message had hit closer to home than he was willing to admit. It opened up something in him he had tried to bury deep down-something that no amount of battle, rage, or vengeance could ever fully extinguish.
His thoughts shifted, unbidden, to the battles he had fought, the blood he had spilled. Malebolgia, the demon who had controlled him, fell by his hand, his decapitated body left to rot in the very hell that once ruled him. Heaven's armies had felt the might of his chains and power. And even God and the Devil had been brought low by his will, defeated in a way that should have made him feel unstoppable.
Those victories were easy to remember. They were victories of strength, of will, of defiance against forces far greater than any mortal man should have faced.
But it was in the moments between those battles that the memories hurt the most. The times when he wasn't fighting, when there was nothing left to kill-those were the times that truly haunted him.
His thoughts slipped to his wife. Wanda. He had died, and life had moved on without him. She had moved on. Found a new life, a new family, love that he could never be a part of. She had lived in ways that he could only dream of, a dream that had slipped away from him the moment his heart stopped beating.
All the failings of his mortal life came rushing back like a cold wind against his soul. The mistakes, the choices that had led him to where he was now. A lost soul, wandering, trapped in a body no longer his own, a pawn in a cosmic game of power between Heaven and Hell.
He had lost his humanity long ago. He knew that. But there were times, quiet moments like this, when the weight of that loss pressed down harder than any battle ever could.
His hand moved on its own, slipping under his glove. There, still wrapped around his finger, was his wedding ring. The last piece of his mortal life. The last connection to a man he barely recognized anymore. It was tarnished, worn, but still there, clinging to him like a lifeline to the past.
This was the last shred of his humanity, the last thing he had refused to let go of. Even after all the bloodshed, all the hellfire, all the years spent as a creature of vengeance and power, this ring was the only thing that reminded him he was once Al Simmons. A man. A husband.
He clenched his fist around the ring, feeling its cool metal against his skin. No matter how much he had changed, no matter how many battles he fought, this small, fragile reminder of who he had been was still with him. But even as he held on to it, he couldn't help but feel how distant it was. How distant he was from everything it once represented.
Charlie's words echoed in his mind again. "You don't have to fight alone anymore."
He let out a low, ragged breath, unsure if he even believed that. But for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to feel the weight of it all. Not the battles, not the enemies, but the loss. The emptiness. The price he had paid.
And for a moment, just a fleeting second, he wondered if maybe Charlie was right. If maybe, just maybe, there was still something left to fight for beyond the violence.