Author's Notes and Chapter One - Welcome to Hell
Hey there! This is a story that's an AU of my characters from Hunter, Haunted and its sequel The Bringer. However, this is entirely original fiction with no Pokémon to be seen. No knowledge of HH or its sequel is necessary as I have written this to work as a standalone (though it may be made into a series later on, depending on how things go), nor will this contain any spoilers for those stories.
The premise is that Andre and Red are now an angel and a demon respectively, and they're sentenced to a criminal rehabilitation program in Hell. Red is abrasive and hard to work with, but through several experiences together, the two grow closer. However, people seem to be mysteriously disappering in the program, and Red and Andre may be the ones that need to figure it out before it's too late...
This story skirts the line between teen and mature, but let's rate it mature to be safe. More precisely, I would say that this story is suitable for readers aged 16 and higher. It is not as gory as HH if you're worried about that.
However, it does contain the following things:
Then, also, a word about feedback preferences:
With that out of the way, thank you for your attention thus far and enjoy reading Cor Daemonis!
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Red
Say it. Say it, say it, say it.
“...hereby sentence the defendant to the Woe State Young Adult Rehabilitation Program.”
The colossal weight that had been with Red ever since he’d first showed up in that courtroom took off like a cheerful embertit flying into the wide red sky. Finally, he thought. It’s over.
Of course, he already knew it was likely that he’d be sentenced to the YARP. The court had been discussing it, and his lawyer had been arguing for it. Still, to hear the judge announce it meant that it was official. That it could no longer be changed. Red hoped so, at least.
“What?” snapped a shrill voice, that of the woman. “You’re sending him to summer camp? He killed me!”
“Ms Chambers, settle down,” the bailiff said, raising a palm.
“No!” the blonde demoness screamed, standing up. Her lawyer tried to whisper something to her, but she ignored him. “He’s a monster! He’s a danger to everyone! He’s --”
She stopped briefly as she noticed the court security officers approaching… then locked eyes with Red.
“You!” She pointed a finger at the younger demon. “You little shit! I hope your body rots!”
Red felt too much anger to register the fear. He was, fortunately, also too tired to start arguing.
A hand touched Red’s shoulder. He turned his head to see his lawyer smiling at him. Red relaxed somewhat.
Once Ms Chambers was removed from the room and the hearing wrapped up, though, Red remembered the full context of his situation.
Even once - if - he completed the YARP, he had nothing left.
Crimson, cloudless sky above the car. Black asphalt underneath it. Dusty crimson soil as far as the eye could see to the left and the right.
‘Plains of Despair’, this place was called. Andre had learned that such names were mundane for Hell and thus not always descriptive, but they certainly elicited despair in this angel.
In a few minutes’ time, he’d arrive at the Crimson Plains Criminal Rehabilitation Center, the place he’d been sentenced to spend four months in. He didn’t know what this ‘Young Adult Rehabilitation Program’ would be like - only that it was an experimental criminal rehabilitation program for demons that was claimed to be comparable in humaneness to angel penitentiaries. Andre would have been put into an angel penitentiary himself, but with the Blackwing bust, they’d simply been overcrowded. At least they’d cared enough to get him into something vaguely equivalent instead of simply throwing him in a regular Infernal prison or, Arukei help him, a torment facility.
Still, it was Hell. Even a free life there was hardly a good one. If what Heaven said in its whispers and that one single lesson in school was true, Hell was a place where few things other than money determined your worth as a living humanoid - a crime-ridden realm of predatory capitalism that made some effort to pretend to be democratic. The rampant advertising Andre had witnessed when they’d driven through the city certainly supported that claim. By Arukei, they’d even advertised pornography and sex services in broad daylight on those giant screens. Even one’s own body was a commodity here…
Well, as much as Andre hated to say it, it made sense. If Hell’s population was made up almost entirely of sinners and demons, was it any surprise that their society had turned out the way it had?
Andre moved his gaze from the window to the chauffeur. A demon. The first one Andre had ever met. He’d been pretty nervous, priming himself for trouble, but the worst thing this demon had done so far was calling him ‘scrawny’ and mockingly questioning his gender - not that bad in the grand scheme of things. Still, it was entirely possible that this was among the top percentage of demons in terms of niceness…
This particular demon had red skin and horns, matching the mental image Andre had had of demons ever since he’d been given his first description of them. On the drive from the portal to the Plains, however, Andre had found out that demons were a lot more morphologically diverse than Heaven said. Some had goat legs, some had bat wings, some had snake heads, some seemed to be a collection of wriggling tentacles in humanoid form. Most of the ones with human skin had actually been of tones familiar to Andre from Earth and Heaven instead of red.
It had made Andre wonder, yet again, how accurate Heaven’s other claims about Hell really were. He supposed that he’d find out with time, though - after all, he had the entire rest of his life to spend here. All the way until the soul-marble inside his skull expired… unless someone were to destroy it ahead of time. Was soul-murder a common occurrence in Hell? One could imagine soul-suicides occurring, people wanting to escape to Terminus early…
He leaned back in his seat, trying to find some comfort, eternally grateful that angels’ wings and halos weren’t tangible - though he wasn’t grateful for the handcuffs around his wrists. The prison escorts to his left and right glanced at him sharply, both of them angels as well.
Andre groaned. “Seriously?” he asked. Normally, he was more polite, but this was not a normal situation. “I’ve been a perfect prisoner this entire time, and you still think I’m some kind of psycho that needs to be under constant surveillance?”
“You’re a Blackwing,” the male escort said. The female escort stayed silent.
“Blackwings don’t do what they do because they’re violent maniacs of some kind,” Andre growled.
The male escort huffed. “Of course. Hitmen are famous for being pacifists.”
Andre sighed. The real Blackwings weren’t hitmen, but he knew it was pointless to argue.
“Sorry to interrupt the debate,” the demon driving said in his chainsmoker’s voice, “but I figure you’d like to know that we’re almost there.”
Andre leaned forward and looked through the windshield, trying to yet again ignore the smudges on his glasses that he hadn’t been able to wipe away with his hands restrained. A complex of buildings, ash-gray and surrounded by a tall fence, had appeared in the distance. The angel deflated. Well, he thought, this is it.
They arrived in silence. At the gate of the fence, Andre and the others were identified by a guard with three eyes, and the car was allowed to pass. A thought occurred to Andre that the escorts riding with him might be the last angels he would see in a very long time, if for the rest of his life… until they passed by the entrance of the first building.
Another angel stood by the front door. Judging by the card hanging by his neck, he was part of the staff. Must have been someone sent from Heaven to supervise what was going on. Though Andre couldn’t see why. He’d thought this experiment was Hell’s own. Why would Heaven be interested in this?
The car entered the parking lot beside the main building. The chauffeur parked the car, and Andre and the escorts got out, the male escort carrying Andre’s luggage - a large black duffel bag. The chauffeur stayed put, though. He’d wait for the escorts to return and then take them back to Heaven.
In the warm, 30-degree, brimstone-scented weather, Andre was escorted to the angel by the door, and he finally got a better look at him. The angel was a white man, somewhere in his thirties, with gray-blue eyes and blond hair neatly combed back. He was tall and somewhat burly with a square face, though his imposing figure was sharply contrasted by his friendly smile. His halo was thick and hexagonal, spinning in a relaxed manner with a healthy golden glow. He wore casual clothes - a white t-shirt and khaki shorts. Not a uniform? Was that allowed?
“Welcome!” he said. “You’re Andre, right?”
“That’s me,” Andre said. “Can I, uh, ask something?”
“Sure thing! What’s on your mind?”
“Are you… I mean… what do you do here? As an angel in Hell, I mean.”
“Well, I came here as a missionary,” he said. “Right now, though, they want me to help out at this rehabilitation center. Name’s Samson, by the way. Pleasure to meet you!” He extended his hand.
Missionary. Andre realized then that the staff card wasn’t the only thing hanging from the angel’s neck - there was also a golden pendant shaped like the head of a mountain goat with horns that connected in a loop. Arukei’s symbol.
Well, in any case, it was nice that at least someone was being friendly towards Andre. Then again… it was unnerving. Shouldn’t any angel who knew that he was a Blackwing hate him?
“It’s… nice to meet you too,” Andre said nevertheless, taking Samson’s hand and shaking it. His grip was robust, not at all hesitant like Andre’s.
“You know, you’re not the only angel we have in this program,” Samson said. “Maybe you two can become friends! He seemed like a nice enough boy.”
“Was he a, uh, Blackwing too…?”
Samson shook his head. “Not that I know of. He’s in here for something else. It would be rude of me to disclose that without his permission, though, so you’ll have to ask him yourself.”
Andre nodded. “Right.”
Samson looked like he was about to say something else, but his eyes veered past Andre. Andre turned around himself and noticed that another prisoner had shown up with his own escorts.
This prisoner was another demon, but this demon… was different.
This demon, an Eastern young man - Hojoan, perhaps - was exactly like the type of studded-leather-jacket-wearing bad boy heartthrobs Andre had drooled over in his teenage years. Only with, you know, long curved white horns, the ears and feet of a black-furred canine and an arrow-tipped tail that whipped in annoyance. He had long black hair that crashed into his broad shoulders, furred and clawed hands in handcuffs and his jacket was open to show a white shirt with a low neckline resting on top of some well-trained pecs.
For a split second, some lower process in Andre’s soul-marble told him to go for it. Socialize, establish what he wanted, have the demon hopefully agree, have a good time together. But that would be a terrible idea. Andre still didn’t know exactly how accurate Heaven’s notions about demons were, but surely there was some truth to them. That they were… violent, selfish. It simply wouldn’t be safe for an angel to have sexual relations with one. Perhaps not even for a demon.
This wasn’t the first time he’d wrestled with this.
“Can you two birdboys quit your chirping?” the demon said. “I don’t have all day.”
Well, that definitely helped in making him less attractive. “W-we’re done,” Andre got out, glancing at Samson. “Go ahead.”
Samson was no longer smiling, but he stepped aside nonetheless. “Welcome to the Crimson Plains Criminal Rehabilitation Center,” he said in a neutral tone.
“Sure,” the prisoner muttered and walked past Samson through the door. His escorts, both male demons in uniform, followed after. One of them carried a duffel bag similar to Andre’s own, but green.
Samson sighed. “Well, you’d better head in, too. The assembly is beginning soon.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Samson,” Andre said, and Samson smiled in response.
Andre and his escorts walked through the door. There was a metal detector at the end of the room they entered - Andre had already been through one back at the portal facility, which had made him briefly muse on how Hell had to rely on electricity since holy energy wasn’t available - and it seemed that the demon prisoner was having some trouble.
“You’re gonna need to take off everything with metal in it,” the demoness attending the detector said - for the second time, judging by the emphasis.
“And I told you that that’s everything I’m wearing,” the prisoner growled. “Can’t you just pat me down?”
The monitor shook her head. “Take them off.”
The prisoner’s fists clenched. His escorts and the monitor tensed up. Andre tensed up, too. Was he going to get violent?
Eventually, however, the prisoner sighed. “Fine,” he said, releasing the tension in Andre’s body before quickly returning it by looking directly at Andre. “You are going to look away, though. I don’t want any queers eyeing my body.”
Well, then. Thoroughly unattractive now.
It did make Andre a little anxious, though. He knew he looked androgynous with his youthful face, narrow figure and his wavy, caramel brown, chin-length hair. Really, he’d always liked that about himself - he liked being ‘that pretty boy’, and his various dates had certainly found it desirable. But if Hell was like Earth but forty years back and with an additional heaping of toxic masculinity, feminine men were probably looked down upon. Would that mean that he’d have to hide his sexuality, too?
Regardless, Andre turned around. He was already going to do it before anyway. It wasn’t right to stare at someone who was being forced to strip against their will. Even if that person would probably look really --
Holy Arukei, Andre thought. Do not think like that.
It took a minute or two for the prisoner to make it through the metal check, and then came Andre’s turn, which passed much more quickly. His escorts were left behind, along with his handcuffs, and he now had to carry his own luggage. He was given directions to the gymnasium by a guard, and he found his way there without issue. The gymnasium, which actually looked pretty normal, had about thirty demons standing and chattering there - and one angel.
He was thin and boyish with well-groomed blond hair like Samson’s, and he wore neat clothes like Andre. His halo was a smooth ring and his wings were small and shaped like those of a songbird. He struck Andre as… eighteen years old, or younger. But minors would go to a different place, right?
Regardless, Andre began making his way towards the angel, thinking he’d be safer with him - but then he saw a demon climb onto the stage at the front of the gymnasium. Given the brown suit he was wearing, he was clearly someone in charge. Andre stopped and turned to the stage.
The demon, a tall black man of sepia complexion, had short black hair, a trimmed beard and large red-black-striped horns, but his most striking feature was his eyes, which had deep red sclerae and yellow irises. Despite the demon’s eerie gaze, Andre found himself fighting off even more indecent thoughts. Damn it, was there something in Hell’s air making him more amorous than usual? Besides, even if dancing with demons wasn’t dangerous, trying to flirt with someone in charge would probably end poorly for him, especially if they were the same sex as him.
The demon on the stage cleared his throat, and Andre told himself to focus. This would likely be important.
“Everyone,” he said, his voice deep and masculine, “settle down.” As the chatter trailed off and the crowd turned to face the stage, he continued. “Thank you. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Gideon Ronove, and I am the head supervisor of this program. I will be supervising the operations of this facility for the duration of the program, or the next four months. I hope that these four months will pass smoothly.”
A pause. “Now, more about the program. You likely know this by now, but in case you don’t: the Woe State Young Adult Rehabilitation Program, or the YARP for short, is an experimental program meant for first-time offenders between the ages of 18 and 25 whose crimes were severe but committed for quote-unquote ‘understandable’ reasons. Unlike traditional prisons, this program seeks to rehabilitate you rather than punish you. There will still be restrictions placed on your daily life, but these are for reasons of security rather than an attempt to discourage you from further criminal activity through applied discomfort.”
Andre nodded to himself. This seemed alright so far.
“However,” Mr Ronove said, raising his voice, “do not take us for fools. The guards of this facility are trained and experienced professionals, and so am I. I have worked in corrections for fifteen years, and I know all the tricks. So don’t try them. Step out of line, and it’s off to my old workplace West Woe Penitentiary, where you’ll be sewing jeans for twelve hours a day.”
Well then.
“To move on to more practical matters…”
Mr Ronove went on to explain that the inmates would be divided between four supervisors, each of them getting eight inmates to be responsible for. This supervisor would be the one to answer their assigned inmates’ questions and act as a confidant in any sensitive matters, and they would also be the one to evaluate the inmates’ conduct during their stay and report their observations to the head supervisor.
They would not be responsible solely for their own conduct, however - this program involved a pair system. Every inmate would be paired with another, and one’s conduct would influence whether or not the other passed. This was to encourage cooperation.
Andre immediately started to worry. What if he got some jackass who couldn’t behave? Could he be doomed to forced labor just because of who his pair was? He sighed. He hoped he’d get paired with the angel even if it seemed highly unlikely.
It looked like he at least wouldn’t need to worry for long, though. After Mr Ronove finished mentioning some of the things the program would involve - there would be education regarding social and emotional skills, ethics, law and general knowledge as well as physical education - the time to assign the supervisors and pairs came. The supervisors had climbed up on stage, and one of them was Samson. Andre wished that he’d be assigned that friendly angel, and he was pleased to hear it when Ronove announced the following:
“Under Mark Samson, your ethics teacher and priest: Thomas Powell, Yardley Tucker, Jenny Hale, Trevor Lawrence, Ichiro Akai, Miguel Franco, Jian Cheng and Andre Duval.”
The people whose names had been called out, Andre included, made a line aligning with their supervisor like the others had done. To Andre’s great dismay, one of them was… that leather-jacketed guy from before.
He seemed to notice it, too, as he and Andre made eye contact. The demon looked away and huffed to himself.
Once all inmates had been assigned to their supervisors, these supervisors stepped down from the stage and gathered their group’s members in their own huddles.
“Well, then,” Samson said, still smiling, “it seems that I’ll be your shepherd, so to speak. Everybody feeling alright?”
The group’s members glanced around at each other, then mumbled affirmatives. Andre simply nodded. He wasn’t feeling alright, but he didn’t want to make a scene.
“Great to hear! But if you ever get something on your mind, find me and talk to me, alright? I wanna make sure you’re all as comfortable as can be.”
More mumbled affirmatives.
Samson nodded. “Alright. Let’s get to the pairs, then…”
Andre blinked. The pairs would be from this group? Well, it made sense, but he’d been hoping otherwise…
He glanced at the leather-jacketed demon, who glanced back. He seemed nervous, but was trying to hide it under a veil of cool indifference. Andre hoped he’d get paired with someone else. The other angel wasn’t in this group, so that ship had sailed, but maybe he’d get paired with the girl of the group, that blonde with the horns arranged like a crown? Then again, she had kind of a mean look on her face…
Samson had pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket while Andre had been looking away. He cleared his throat, and Andre prepared himself to listen.
“Okay, once you hear your name, raise your hand,” Samson said. “That way your pair will know who you are. Now! Our first pair is…”
Andre held his breath.
“Andre Duval…”
Already? God. Sure. Andre raised his hand, then drilled his eyes onto the leather-jacketed demon.
“...and Ichiro Akai.”
The demon didn’t have to raise his hand in order for Andre to find out that was his name. His face said it all.
Samson looked around, not seeing a second hand. “Ichiro Akai?”
‘Ichiro’ huffed and raised his hand, giving a nasty glare to Andre.
“Alright,” Samson said. “You two play nice, now.” He returned to the paper in his hands --
“It’s Red,” the demon said.
“Hm?” Samson looked up.
“It’s Red,” the demon repeated, annoyed, and lowered his hand. “Everyone calls me Red.”
“Alright-y,” Samson said, smiling again. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now, for the second pair…”
The rest of the pairs were announced without issue, and they left the gymnasium to begin a tour of the facility. They were shown the communal dining area, or ‘chow hall’, the yard, the rec room, the gym, the library, the laundry room, bathrooms and showers and finally their quarters. They were given their keys and allowed to place their luggage in their rooms - good, Andre was getting tired of hauling that thing around - after which the tour ended and it was time for dinner. They were escorted to the chow hall again in case anyone had forgotten where it was. It seemed that the other groups had finished their tours as well, as the hall was full.
Andre got in line like the others and received his serving of mashed potatoes and… beef stew.
Right. He’d already realized on the pit stop on the way here that Hell slaughtered real animals for their food, just like Earth. No ethically cultivated lab meat for him here. And no vegetarian options. Hell seemed to consider that too… unmasculine. Or maybe demons simply couldn’t subsist on plant proteins.
Andre couldn’t starve himself, though, so he’d just have to suck it up and --
“Hey! Angel boy! Over here!”
Andre flinched and looked towards the voice. He saw a thin and pale Eastern demoness smile and wave at him from a table across the hall. She had long, sandy brown hair and rectangular glasses as well as the nose, ears and wings of a bat. She wore a sleeveless magenta top and colorful little string bracelets and a similar necklace. Next to her sat another demoness of a heavier build, who was Western in turn and had darker skin. She had short brunette hair and a green bandanna pierced by two little crimson horns, and her bare arms had scars that Andre made a point not to stare at. She didn’t appear very enthusiastic.
The first demoness’ shout, however, seemed to also grab the attention of the other angel in the hall - the one Samson had mentioned and Andre had almost spoken to before. He was sitting in another corner of the hall when he saw the demoness waving, then followed her stare to Andre, then began waving at Andre himself.
“O-over here! Hey!” he shouted. “I wanna get to know you!”
“She called first!” the red-horned demoness shouted at the unnamed angel, her voice louder and deeper. The bat-demoness flinched and raised her palms at her companion, who rolled her eyes, then looked to Andre and made a beckoning motion. The angel frowned, but kept gesturing himself and mouthing the words ‘come here’.
Andre’s gaze jumped between the angel and the demonesses. Which one should he pick? He really wanted to stick with the angel, but… the entire hall was watching by now because of all the shouting. If Andre chose to go with the angel, they might think that he thinks less of demons… which he maybe did, but he knew was a very stupid idea to show.
Andre made his decision. Heart pounding, he walked over to the demoness’ table and sat down.
“Yeah!” the red-horned demoness cheered. “Suck it, little man!” she shouted at the other angel right after. The angel made an indignant face, then shook his head and resumed his eating.
The bat-demoness sighed, but then turned to Andre and smiled. “Hi! I’m Alice,” she said, offering a hand.
Andre took her hand and shook it. “I’m Andre,” Andre said. “Pleased to meet you.”
“I’m Camila,” said the red-horned demoness, pointing to herself with a thumb. “Me and Alice are girlfriends. Got a problem with that?”
Andre raised his palms, heartbeat surging. “Oh, no, not at all. I’m… pan myself.” Oh god. He’d already blabbed it. Or… did they even know here what that meant?
“Huh.” Camila crossed her arms. It seemed like they knew what it meant, then. “I thought they hated sexual minorities in Heaven.”
“N…no?” Andre said hesitantly. “Where did you hear that?”
“It’s a common rumor about Heaven,” Alice explained. “Is it not true?”
Andre shook his head. “O-oh, no. In Heaven, it’s okay to be any orientation or gender.”
The demonesses exchanged a look. “Well, that sounds great,” Alice said, smiling, and she sounded like she meant it. Andre dared to smile back.
“Hmm.” Camila didn’t seem as pleased. “Yeah, I bet you have a wonderful place over there, with your equality and your robot servants, but when are you gonna share that prosperity with Hell?”
“Uh…” Andre hadn’t prepared himself for this conversation.
Alice lay a hand on Camila’s shoulder. “Mila, take it easy. We don’t know if angels like him have any say in what Heaven’s government does.”
Camila looked to Alice, then to Andre. “Well, do you?”
“Well…” Andre shook his head, glancing away. “No, not really. In terms of Hell, anyway. You’re not even allowed to talk about it.”
Camila scratched her cheek. “Huh.”
“Yeah, well, you can talk about it a little as long as you don’t do it publicly,” Andre amended. “If you do, though, they can charge you with ‘demoralizing’.”
“What happens then?” Camila asked.
“Mandatory sensitivity training program,” Andre said. “And if you do that, and then still talk about it… prison. In Hell.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
“Huh? Oh, no. I did, uh… something else.”
Camila frowned. “Did you rape somebody?”
“Wh-” Andre’s eyes widened. “No! I would never do something like that!”
Never? Even with the thoughts you’ve had?
The demoness relaxed. “Good.”
There was a spell of uncomfortable silence.
“Ah… yes, well…” Alice began. “Why don’t you tell us what your impressions of Hell are so far? I’m curious.”
“Uh…” Andre looked around, his eyes falling on the windows up by the ceiling - was every building he went to going to have their windows high up like that? Regardless, the clear red sky still shone through. It hadn’t changed in these few hours.
“It’s very… red,” Andre then said. “Heaven is more white and green.”
“Green? Is it the plants?” Alice asked.
“Yeah. Though they can have yellow and brown parts too, like here. But the leaves are almost always green.”
Alice nodded. “Like on Earth, then.”
Andre paused, gathering up his courage to ask a question. “How much do you know about Earth around here?”
“Things,” Alice said. “The sinners get milder sentences if they provide us with information about Earth. We owe a lot of technological advancements to them.”
“Uh… hmm.” Andre wasn’t necessarily a fan. Could evil people worm their way out of the consequences of their actions just by knowing more things?
“You must be thinking that that’s unfair,” Alice said. “It figures for an angel. Unless the rumors about angels having a stronger desire for justice are untrue?”
“No, I’d say they’re true,” Andre said. “Though, I mean, depends on how strong we’re talking. It’s not like it’s overpowering. We still have different personalities, much like I’m sure you demons do even though…”
Andre realized his mistake and quieted.
“Even though what?” Camila asked, offended.
Andre cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking. I shouldn’t go assuming that the rumors Heaven has about demons are true.”
“What do they say there?” Alice asked.
Andre glanced away. “Well, that… demons are more… well…”
“Well, spit it out,” Camila said.
“...That demons enjoy violence,” Andre finally got out, fidgeting. He hoped he hadn’t just signed his death warrant.
“Oh, that? That’s just true,” Alice said. “We need to enjoy violence to be able to torment sinners. Don’t worry about that.”
Andre sighed in relief. “Whew, okay. I just really don’t want to offend.”
“It’s fine. So, back to your impressions of Hell?”
Andre explained his experiences in Hell from emerging from the portal to arriving at the facility - the strict security at the portal, the warm air with rotten-egg smell outside, the congested metropolis of Torment City with its rampant advertising, a tangent on how there is no private sector in Heaven, the factories spouting thick, black smoke, the pit stop on which Andre first realized the meat problem, the rest of the way to the facility. Upon Andre’s mention of lab meat, Alice immediately prompted to tell him more with a gleam in her eyes. Andre explained what he knew, though this was less than what the demoness seemed to want to know as a self-identified science lover. After that, though, Andre could resume the recounting of his experiences and got to his interaction with Red at the metal detector.
“God, I’m sorry about that,” Alice said, then sighed. “There’s still a lot of bigotry here, and it doesn’t seem like it’s going away any time soon…”
“But we’re gonna fight it anyway,” Camila said with a grin, wrapping her arm around Alice. “Ain’t that right, Lis?”
Alice smiled at her girlfriend. “Of course!” She turned back to Andre. “Oh, but I should mention, I actually know that guy.”
“You know Red?” Andre asked, glancing around the hall and spotting the demon at the other end of the hall. He was sitting alone.
“Yeah, we went to the same university,” Alice said. “I was in physics and he was in biology. Always wore that same jacket, that’s how I recognize him.” She frowned. “He was never nice, but I didn’t think he was a call-people-slurs kinda guy.”
Andre kept staring at Red. A university student. He didn't seem like the type - he seemed like the type to have too much trouble with authority to go into further education. And, well, it was judgmental, but Andre didn't think he'd have the smarts for it, either.
“Well, anyway,” Andre said, turning back to the demonesses, “I should mention that I also got paired up with him.”
“No!” Alice said. “Oh, that sucks so much.”
“Yeah…”
“Maybe you can ask for a reassignment. Who’s your supervisor?”
“Samson, the angel guy.”
“Yeah, he seems nice. I’m sure he’d understand, especially if Heaven is more progressive like you said.”
“Hmm…” Andre thought about it. He’d like to get someone other than Red, but what if he got someone even worse? Or he’d be branded as some kind of princess who can’t handle a bit of rudeness?
“I think I’ll wait a bit first,” he said. “Maybe he was just… posturing before, or something.”
“Maybe,” Alice said. “Keep me posted, alright?”
“Will do,” Andre said. So she wanted to talk again later. That was alright. She seemed nice, and her girlfriend didn’t seem that bad, even if she was kind of scary.
Alice nodded, then looked at Andre’s plate. “I should probably let you eat. Your food’s getting cold.”
“Ah! Right. Thanks.” Andre took a forkful of beef, but then froze. Right. Real animals. Well, he’d managed to get Hell food down once before…
He began to eat. It wasn’t pleasant, and hardly just because the food was cold. He couldn’t help but think of the horrid conditions these animals must have spent their whole lives in only to be killed and skinned and cut up into marketable chunks which then were cut up further and cooked and served and chewed and swallowed and digested and…
“Well, while you’re eating, I should tell you stuff about that other angel,” Camila said.
“Hmm?” Andre vocalized, mouth still full of dead animal tissue -- No, concentrate on what was said. That other angel that had tried to get his attention? He looked over to where the angel had sat, but it seemed like he was gone already.
“Yeah, I got paired up with him. His name’s Eric, and he does not like demons. Every time one gets close to him, he makes a face like he’s smelled something bad.”
Andre swallowed, more easily now that he had something else on his mind. He… understood Eric’s reaction to an extent, but to be so openly averse… just wasn’t polite. Unbecoming of an angel, really. “That’s unfortunate,” Andre said, then got the idea for something that would surely make him appear more demon-friendly. “But hey, maybe he’s just been told a lot of bad things about demons. I can talk to him, see if he’ll come around.”
“You can talk to him, sure, but just make sure you don’t make it sound like I asked you to,” Camila said. “Because I’m not. Got that?”
“Uh, y-yeah, I’ve got that,” Andre said. “Besides, even if you had asked me to talk to him, I wouldn’t tell on you. I’m not that kind of person, I swear.”
Camila huffed. “Good.”
Andre resumed his eating, and so did the demonesses for the little they had left. Once done, they brought back their dishes and each headed into their quarters to unpack. Andre arrived at the room number he was assigned, 112C, and unlocked the door. He stepped in, and unsurprisingly, Red was also there. The demon was on his bed, lying on his back with his hands behind his head. His horns seemed to be gone. He'd probably made them disappear the way Andre assumed the chauffeur had made his tail disappear in order to sit in the driver’s seat and how Andre made his glowing wings and halo disappear every night so that he could actually get some sleep.
Red stared at Andre for a moment, his expression mostly blank with a tinge of irritation, then directed his gaze back to the ceiling.
Andre sighed quietly. He supposed he should try to talk to him, no matter how little either of them wanted it, no matter how there was a non-zero chance of a mauling.
Andre cleared his throat. “You know,” he began, “if we're gonna be pairs, I think we should try to get along.”
Red frowned, but didn't look at Andre. “We'll get along as well as we get along.”
Andre frowned in turn. He let something slip before thinking. “You could make at least a bit of an effort.”
Red looked into Andre's eyes. Andre’s stomach sank. What had he done? Why would he give a demon lip? Was he stupid?
Then again, he knew he couldn’t just be a doormat. There was always a chance that demons would think even less of someone for not standing up for themselves. Andre just wished he wasn’t so afraid. Or have that other feeling, that feeling he knew he shouldn’t have because it wouldn’t lead to anything good…
“I'll do what I want,” Red said, returning his gaze to the ceiling.
Andre slowly took a deep breath in and out. “Alright,” he said.
Silence returned to the room, and Andre determined that the conversation was over. He walked over to his bag, began unpacking, unpacked, and finished unpacking. Not that there was much to do - just place the items in the chest of drawers at the foot of his bed.
When the bag was empty, he gave Red another look. He was still staring at the ceiling.
Andre figured that staying here was going to be bad for his mental health. He didn't know if going out was much better, but he could at least try.
“I'm going to the rec room,” he said, ready to exit the room.
“Why do you think I care?” Red said.
Andre sighed quietly. “I just figured that we, as pairs, would like to know where we're going.”
“Well, I don't. And I'm not gonna be telling you shit about where I'm going.”
God, what a jackass. “Alright, then,” Andre mumbled and left the room.
Andre, being someone with a sharp memory, had no trouble finding his way back to the rec room. Unlike the first time, it was now in active use - demons sitting on the couches, the beanbag chairs, the floor or by the table and playing with cards or the pinball machine or just watching the TV by the ceiling. Andre stepped closer to the TV to make sense of what was going on - looked like some kind of… arena fight?
A crimson-furred bull with four horns and tusks pawed at the ground, then charged at a large draconic demon - was that demon a person or an animal? - only to be grabbed by the skull and -- oh Arukei. Andre quickly looked away so that he wouldn’t subjected to another gory nightmare.
Instead, he looked around, trying to find either the angel inmate or Alice or Camila. He couldn’t spot any of them, but he did spot someone else that caught his attention.
In the far corner of the room stood a lanky Eastern demoness with short black hair. Bangs with a navy blue streak covered her forehead, and she wore a hoodie and jeans in other, even more inoffensive shades of blue. She had the ears of a black cat at the top of her head, partially flattened, and her eyes were yellow with slit, albeit dilated, pupils. Her tail, all black, brushed against her legs, tucking itself between them every now and then.
Even without the feline body language, it was obvious that the girl was distressed. She was grasping her arms, her black-furred thumb stroking up and down, and she was even… shaking? Good Arukei, she must have been feeling terrible. And there was no one to comfort her.
Well, Andre could help with that. Andre should help with that.
Andre walked through the room, weaving past the groups of demons, and arrived before the cat-demoness. She noticed him, but avoided his gaze, possibly hoping that he wasn’t there for her. Andre hesitated for a moment, wondering if his talking to her would actually bring her even more distress, but ultimately decided to speak.
“Hey,” Andre said with a friendly smile. The demoness glanced at him, then past him, then at the ground, then at him again, then at the ground again, then past him again. Eye contact was clearly uncomfortable for her.
Still, Andre continued. “I’m Andre. What’s your name?”
“...Suki,” she said quietly.
“Nice to meet you, Suki.”
“Likewise…”
Andre looked away himself. Maybe that would make her more comfortable. “You don’t know anyone here, I take it?”
Suki shook her head. “No, it’s just me…”
“Not even your pair?”
“No, he’s… we don’t get along.”
“Mm. I know the feeling. My pair doesn’t like me either.”
“What’s your… pair like?”
She was getting a bit more confident. Good. “Did you spot that guy with the dog ears and the studded leather jacket?”
Suki looked Andre in the eyes long enough to nod. “Yeah.”
“Well, he’s not very nice.”
“Mm…” She nodded again. “My pair’s not nice either.”
“Who’d you get paired up with?”
“Jake,” she said. “I don’t remember his last name. But he’s the guy with the pig head.”
Andre remembered seeing someone like that around. “Don’t know him,” Andre said, “but now I’ll know to avoid him.”
“Yeah.”
A spell of silence. Andre was about to break it, but to his surprise, Suki was the one to speak next.
“Are you from Heaven?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Andre answered.
“Is it nice there?”
“It was nice there,” Andre said. “Or, well, probably still is. I can’t go back, though.”
“Oh,” she said. “Was that your punishment?”
“In addition to this program, yeah.”
“Right, yeah…” Suki nodded again. Then she shuddered.
Andre tilted his head. “Are you cold?”
“No, it’s just withdrawal from --” Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth. “Oh, no, no. No, I shouldn’t have said that, oh…” She grasped her head next, sharp claws emerging from her fingertips.
Andre froze. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m -- yes, I’m okay, I’m --” She began breathing heavily. “I-I have to go!”
She dashed past Andre, squeezed her way through the groups of demons with feline agility and exited the room. Andre contemplated going after her, but maybe it was better not to. He didn’t want to upset her any further.
Not too long after, though, a pair of familiar women walked through the door - Alice and Camila. They noticed Andre, too, and made their way to him.
“Hey, Andre!” Alice greeted. “Long time no see.”
“Hey there,” Andre said. “Did your unpacking go well?”
“Yeah. They have more storage room here than I expected.” She paused as Andre nodded, then continued. “How’d it go with Red? If he was there, that is.”
“Yeah, he was there,” Andre sighed. “He made it pretty clear that he’s not interested in being civil.”
“Oh, sorry to hear,” Alice said. “Will you be asking for a reassignment, then?”
Andre crossed his arms. “Mm… no, I don’t think I will. I mean, I’m pretty sure I can still handle this. Plus, if I ask for a reassignment, someone else will be stuck with him, and I might get someone worse. I think I’m just gonna try making this work.”
“Well, you do you,” Alice said. She glanced at Camila, since she’d been quiet, and saw that she was occupied with watching the battle on TV. “Camila?”
“Yeah?” Camila turned around. “Sorry, they got a pack of bonecrushers tearing apart a sinner.”
“Ah, okay.”
“What's a bonecrusher?” Andre asked. He almost glanced at the TV before he remembered he didn't want to subject himself to that.
Are you sure? It’s a sinner. He was probably a rapist or something. You’ve already helped send a lot of them here. You know they deserve it. You know you want to revel in their pain.
Camila looked to Andre. “A breed of hellhound.” She grinned. “I love hellhounds. My family breeds ‘em, so I’ve been around them my whole life.”
“Hellhounds,” Andre repeated. He realized that the top Camila wore had a stylized horned canine skull on it.
”Yeah, they’re awesome,” Camila said. “I guess they don’t have those in Heaven, though?”
“Well, we don’t have hellhounds, no, but we do have heaven-hounds.”
“Heaven-hounds?”
“Yeah. They’re like Earth dogs, but have halos and wings, like angels. Only they can actually fly with them. We angels can’t. Arukei’s decision, for whatever reason.”
“Oh, yeah. I was wondering about that,” Camila said. “The fences they have here wouldn’t be very effective if you could just take off, I guess.”
“Yeah.”
Alice nodded and spoke up again. “So, could you tell us more about Heaven again?“
“Oh, sure thing,” Andre said. “Let’s see. Where to begin…”
At 10:24 PM, Andre took off his glasses and lay down on his new bed for the first time. He let himself simply breathe for a moment while staring at the white ceiling.
Well, here he was, at the end of his first day in Hell. A lot had happened. Lots of culture shock in one day. How would he fare here? Would he even pass the program, paired up with Red?
He looked at Red. The demon was lying in his own bed, facing the wall, probably already asleep. Hopefully he wouldn’t snore.
Andre took a deep breath and let it out. However uncooperative Red would be, he’d just have to deal with it. And, hey, it would probably work out. After all, Red had been rude - very rude - but not actively malicious so far. He could have been a lot worse.
In fact… none of the demons Andre had met had been that bad. Even though most of them were supposed to be criminals. Was Heaven… wrong about them? Well, maybe not entirely. Alice and Camila did still say demons enjoyed violence, and the gladiator battles in the rec room corroborated that theory. They had to still be… dangerous, right?
Well, regardless, it was hard to be glad about being proven wrong about demons for too long. Andre’s situation still sucked. He was in Hell, far from Heaven, and he’d never get to go back home. He would never be able to see Ellie again, or Katie, or his parents or his brothers… even if most of his family hated him now, knowing that he was a Blackwing.
Ellie, though. Ellie had only been sad. Sad that her brother was jailed, then sent away to Hell, forced to live in the realm of sinners and demons. She hadn’t judged him for what he’d done or was assumed to have done, or if she did, she didn’t let it show.
Andre’s stomach twisted. He missed her so much. He missed home. He missed the days before the bust. When all his relationships were still intact. His friends, Katie especially, her drawings and her writing. Yet he knew he’d done the right thing. That Blackwing’s mission had been righteous.
He sighed. Maybe… maybe there was a chance he could let all of that go here. Start anew. If he didn’t simply starve or get sent to a worse prison after this one, maybe he could… make some kind of life for himself. However meager.
And he could still write to Ellie, right? He’d promised he would, and he’d been told that it was possible. The angels of Hell were still allowed to send mail to Heaven and receive it all the same. Whether that’s really work in practice, though, he’d just have to find out.
Deciding it was time to stop thinking and just turn in, Andre shut off his bedside lamp and nestled under the blanket. It was thinner than the one at home, just like the mattress, but Hell was warmer anyway. He’d be fine.
He closed his eyes, withdrew his wings and halo and began waiting for sleep.
The premise is that Andre and Red are now an angel and a demon respectively, and they're sentenced to a criminal rehabilitation program in Hell. Red is abrasive and hard to work with, but through several experiences together, the two grow closer. However, people seem to be mysteriously disappering in the program, and Red and Andre may be the ones that need to figure it out before it's too late...
This story skirts the line between teen and mature, but let's rate it mature to be safe. More precisely, I would say that this story is suitable for readers aged 16 and higher. It is not as gory as HH if you're worried about that.
However, it does contain the following things:
- Strong language (including some slurs)
- Blood and violence, minor gore, possible* body horror, death
- Sexual themes and discussion of BDSM (but no explicit sexual content, such as sex scenes)
- Substance abuse (in backstory)
- Domestic abuse (in backstory)
- Fantasy xenophobia, homophobia and possibly* other forms of bigotry to a lesser extent (misogyny, ableism)
- Depictions of mental illness, brief mentions of suicide
- Mentions of or backstory involving sexual harassment and sexual assault
Then, also, a word about feedback preferences:
I'm very lax when it comes to the type of feedback I want - I'm happy with reactions, impressions, concrit, speculation, grammar/typo fixes (seriously, if I have typos, please tell me so I can fix them post-haste), memes, whatever your reviewing style is as long as you're not outright mean. However, as this is my first time writing romance and one of my first times writing mystery, feedback on how this story fares in terms of the goals of those genres is highly valuable and appreciated.
Currently (March 19th, 2025), I am especially looking for thoughts on the first chapter as I have just revised it and want to know if it succeeds in hooking you into the setting and plot.
Currently (March 19th, 2025), I am especially looking for thoughts on the first chapter as I have just revised it and want to know if it succeeds in hooking you into the setting and plot.
With that out of the way, thank you for your attention thus far and enjoy reading Cor Daemonis!
Red:
Andre:
Andre:
---
Cor Daemonis
Synopsis:
Andre, an angel from Heaven, is sentenced to an experimental criminal rehabilitation program in Hell. He is paired together with Red, an abrasive yet attractive demon with whom Andre must learn to work together in order to pass the program and avoid being sent to a real prison. Things get strange, however, as individual inmates start disappearing, and it may just fall on Andre and Red to figure out why.
Genre:
Fantasy, Drama, Romance, Mystery
Status:
Ongoing
Length:
TBD
---
CHAPTER ONE
Welcome to Hell
---
Cor Daemonis
Synopsis:
Andre, an angel from Heaven, is sentenced to an experimental criminal rehabilitation program in Hell. He is paired together with Red, an abrasive yet attractive demon with whom Andre must learn to work together in order to pass the program and avoid being sent to a real prison. Things get strange, however, as individual inmates start disappearing, and it may just fall on Andre and Red to figure out why.
Genre:
Fantasy, Drama, Romance, Mystery
Status:
Ongoing
Length:
TBD
---
CHAPTER ONE
Welcome to Hell
---
Exact date unknown (before March 19th, 2025):
- Andre is now more apprehensive when it comes to demons, even afraid.
- Heaven is now more restrictive about the kind of sexual material it allows, criminalizing things that they deem "dangerous" or "abusive" or "degrading", such as pornography with BDSM elements. Andre agrees with Heaven's justifications even if it means feeling shame and fear about his attraction towards demons, who must surely also be "dangerous".
March 19th, 2025:
- Condensed chapter a substantial amount. Certain worldbuilding and character details mentioned before have now been left unmentioned, meaning later references to them may be edited to reintroduce them as if they're new information.
- Removed lack of nudity taboo in Hell.
- Andre is now more apprehensive when it comes to demons, even afraid.
- Heaven is now more restrictive about the kind of sexual material it allows, criminalizing things that they deem "dangerous" or "abusive" or "degrading", such as pornography with BDSM elements. Andre agrees with Heaven's justifications even if it means feeling shame and fear about his attraction towards demons, who must surely also be "dangerous".
March 19th, 2025:
- Condensed chapter a substantial amount. Certain worldbuilding and character details mentioned before have now been left unmentioned, meaning later references to them may be edited to reintroduce them as if they're new information.
- Removed lack of nudity taboo in Hell.
---
Red
Say it. Say it, say it, say it.
“...hereby sentence the defendant to the Woe State Young Adult Rehabilitation Program.”
The colossal weight that had been with Red ever since he’d first showed up in that courtroom took off like a cheerful embertit flying into the wide red sky. Finally, he thought. It’s over.
Of course, he already knew it was likely that he’d be sentenced to the YARP. The court had been discussing it, and his lawyer had been arguing for it. Still, to hear the judge announce it meant that it was official. That it could no longer be changed. Red hoped so, at least.
“What?” snapped a shrill voice, that of the woman. “You’re sending him to summer camp? He killed me!”
“Ms Chambers, settle down,” the bailiff said, raising a palm.
“No!” the blonde demoness screamed, standing up. Her lawyer tried to whisper something to her, but she ignored him. “He’s a monster! He’s a danger to everyone! He’s --”
She stopped briefly as she noticed the court security officers approaching… then locked eyes with Red.
“You!” She pointed a finger at the younger demon. “You little shit! I hope your body rots!”
Red felt too much anger to register the fear. He was, fortunately, also too tired to start arguing.
A hand touched Red’s shoulder. He turned his head to see his lawyer smiling at him. Red relaxed somewhat.
Once Ms Chambers was removed from the room and the hearing wrapped up, though, Red remembered the full context of his situation.
Even once - if - he completed the YARP, he had nothing left.
---
Andre
Andre
Crimson, cloudless sky above the car. Black asphalt underneath it. Dusty crimson soil as far as the eye could see to the left and the right.
‘Plains of Despair’, this place was called. Andre had learned that such names were mundane for Hell and thus not always descriptive, but they certainly elicited despair in this angel.
In a few minutes’ time, he’d arrive at the Crimson Plains Criminal Rehabilitation Center, the place he’d been sentenced to spend four months in. He didn’t know what this ‘Young Adult Rehabilitation Program’ would be like - only that it was an experimental criminal rehabilitation program for demons that was claimed to be comparable in humaneness to angel penitentiaries. Andre would have been put into an angel penitentiary himself, but with the Blackwing bust, they’d simply been overcrowded. At least they’d cared enough to get him into something vaguely equivalent instead of simply throwing him in a regular Infernal prison or, Arukei help him, a torment facility.
Still, it was Hell. Even a free life there was hardly a good one. If what Heaven said in its whispers and that one single lesson in school was true, Hell was a place where few things other than money determined your worth as a living humanoid - a crime-ridden realm of predatory capitalism that made some effort to pretend to be democratic. The rampant advertising Andre had witnessed when they’d driven through the city certainly supported that claim. By Arukei, they’d even advertised pornography and sex services in broad daylight on those giant screens. Even one’s own body was a commodity here…
Well, as much as Andre hated to say it, it made sense. If Hell’s population was made up almost entirely of sinners and demons, was it any surprise that their society had turned out the way it had?
Andre moved his gaze from the window to the chauffeur. A demon. The first one Andre had ever met. He’d been pretty nervous, priming himself for trouble, but the worst thing this demon had done so far was calling him ‘scrawny’ and mockingly questioning his gender - not that bad in the grand scheme of things. Still, it was entirely possible that this was among the top percentage of demons in terms of niceness…
This particular demon had red skin and horns, matching the mental image Andre had had of demons ever since he’d been given his first description of them. On the drive from the portal to the Plains, however, Andre had found out that demons were a lot more morphologically diverse than Heaven said. Some had goat legs, some had bat wings, some had snake heads, some seemed to be a collection of wriggling tentacles in humanoid form. Most of the ones with human skin had actually been of tones familiar to Andre from Earth and Heaven instead of red.
It had made Andre wonder, yet again, how accurate Heaven’s other claims about Hell really were. He supposed that he’d find out with time, though - after all, he had the entire rest of his life to spend here. All the way until the soul-marble inside his skull expired… unless someone were to destroy it ahead of time. Was soul-murder a common occurrence in Hell? One could imagine soul-suicides occurring, people wanting to escape to Terminus early…
He leaned back in his seat, trying to find some comfort, eternally grateful that angels’ wings and halos weren’t tangible - though he wasn’t grateful for the handcuffs around his wrists. The prison escorts to his left and right glanced at him sharply, both of them angels as well.
Andre groaned. “Seriously?” he asked. Normally, he was more polite, but this was not a normal situation. “I’ve been a perfect prisoner this entire time, and you still think I’m some kind of psycho that needs to be under constant surveillance?”
“You’re a Blackwing,” the male escort said. The female escort stayed silent.
“Blackwings don’t do what they do because they’re violent maniacs of some kind,” Andre growled.
The male escort huffed. “Of course. Hitmen are famous for being pacifists.”
Andre sighed. The real Blackwings weren’t hitmen, but he knew it was pointless to argue.
“Sorry to interrupt the debate,” the demon driving said in his chainsmoker’s voice, “but I figure you’d like to know that we’re almost there.”
Andre leaned forward and looked through the windshield, trying to yet again ignore the smudges on his glasses that he hadn’t been able to wipe away with his hands restrained. A complex of buildings, ash-gray and surrounded by a tall fence, had appeared in the distance. The angel deflated. Well, he thought, this is it.
They arrived in silence. At the gate of the fence, Andre and the others were identified by a guard with three eyes, and the car was allowed to pass. A thought occurred to Andre that the escorts riding with him might be the last angels he would see in a very long time, if for the rest of his life… until they passed by the entrance of the first building.
Another angel stood by the front door. Judging by the card hanging by his neck, he was part of the staff. Must have been someone sent from Heaven to supervise what was going on. Though Andre couldn’t see why. He’d thought this experiment was Hell’s own. Why would Heaven be interested in this?
The car entered the parking lot beside the main building. The chauffeur parked the car, and Andre and the escorts got out, the male escort carrying Andre’s luggage - a large black duffel bag. The chauffeur stayed put, though. He’d wait for the escorts to return and then take them back to Heaven.
In the warm, 30-degree, brimstone-scented weather, Andre was escorted to the angel by the door, and he finally got a better look at him. The angel was a white man, somewhere in his thirties, with gray-blue eyes and blond hair neatly combed back. He was tall and somewhat burly with a square face, though his imposing figure was sharply contrasted by his friendly smile. His halo was thick and hexagonal, spinning in a relaxed manner with a healthy golden glow. He wore casual clothes - a white t-shirt and khaki shorts. Not a uniform? Was that allowed?
“Welcome!” he said. “You’re Andre, right?”
“That’s me,” Andre said. “Can I, uh, ask something?”
“Sure thing! What’s on your mind?”
“Are you… I mean… what do you do here? As an angel in Hell, I mean.”
“Well, I came here as a missionary,” he said. “Right now, though, they want me to help out at this rehabilitation center. Name’s Samson, by the way. Pleasure to meet you!” He extended his hand.
Missionary. Andre realized then that the staff card wasn’t the only thing hanging from the angel’s neck - there was also a golden pendant shaped like the head of a mountain goat with horns that connected in a loop. Arukei’s symbol.
Well, in any case, it was nice that at least someone was being friendly towards Andre. Then again… it was unnerving. Shouldn’t any angel who knew that he was a Blackwing hate him?
“It’s… nice to meet you too,” Andre said nevertheless, taking Samson’s hand and shaking it. His grip was robust, not at all hesitant like Andre’s.
“You know, you’re not the only angel we have in this program,” Samson said. “Maybe you two can become friends! He seemed like a nice enough boy.”
“Was he a, uh, Blackwing too…?”
Samson shook his head. “Not that I know of. He’s in here for something else. It would be rude of me to disclose that without his permission, though, so you’ll have to ask him yourself.”
Andre nodded. “Right.”
Samson looked like he was about to say something else, but his eyes veered past Andre. Andre turned around himself and noticed that another prisoner had shown up with his own escorts.
This prisoner was another demon, but this demon… was different.
This demon, an Eastern young man - Hojoan, perhaps - was exactly like the type of studded-leather-jacket-wearing bad boy heartthrobs Andre had drooled over in his teenage years. Only with, you know, long curved white horns, the ears and feet of a black-furred canine and an arrow-tipped tail that whipped in annoyance. He had long black hair that crashed into his broad shoulders, furred and clawed hands in handcuffs and his jacket was open to show a white shirt with a low neckline resting on top of some well-trained pecs.
For a split second, some lower process in Andre’s soul-marble told him to go for it. Socialize, establish what he wanted, have the demon hopefully agree, have a good time together. But that would be a terrible idea. Andre still didn’t know exactly how accurate Heaven’s notions about demons were, but surely there was some truth to them. That they were… violent, selfish. It simply wouldn’t be safe for an angel to have sexual relations with one. Perhaps not even for a demon.
This wasn’t the first time he’d wrestled with this.
“Can you two birdboys quit your chirping?” the demon said. “I don’t have all day.”
Well, that definitely helped in making him less attractive. “W-we’re done,” Andre got out, glancing at Samson. “Go ahead.”
Samson was no longer smiling, but he stepped aside nonetheless. “Welcome to the Crimson Plains Criminal Rehabilitation Center,” he said in a neutral tone.
“Sure,” the prisoner muttered and walked past Samson through the door. His escorts, both male demons in uniform, followed after. One of them carried a duffel bag similar to Andre’s own, but green.
Samson sighed. “Well, you’d better head in, too. The assembly is beginning soon.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Samson,” Andre said, and Samson smiled in response.
Andre and his escorts walked through the door. There was a metal detector at the end of the room they entered - Andre had already been through one back at the portal facility, which had made him briefly muse on how Hell had to rely on electricity since holy energy wasn’t available - and it seemed that the demon prisoner was having some trouble.
“You’re gonna need to take off everything with metal in it,” the demoness attending the detector said - for the second time, judging by the emphasis.
“And I told you that that’s everything I’m wearing,” the prisoner growled. “Can’t you just pat me down?”
The monitor shook her head. “Take them off.”
The prisoner’s fists clenched. His escorts and the monitor tensed up. Andre tensed up, too. Was he going to get violent?
Eventually, however, the prisoner sighed. “Fine,” he said, releasing the tension in Andre’s body before quickly returning it by looking directly at Andre. “You are going to look away, though. I don’t want any queers eyeing my body.”
Well, then. Thoroughly unattractive now.
It did make Andre a little anxious, though. He knew he looked androgynous with his youthful face, narrow figure and his wavy, caramel brown, chin-length hair. Really, he’d always liked that about himself - he liked being ‘that pretty boy’, and his various dates had certainly found it desirable. But if Hell was like Earth but forty years back and with an additional heaping of toxic masculinity, feminine men were probably looked down upon. Would that mean that he’d have to hide his sexuality, too?
Regardless, Andre turned around. He was already going to do it before anyway. It wasn’t right to stare at someone who was being forced to strip against their will. Even if that person would probably look really --
Holy Arukei, Andre thought. Do not think like that.
It took a minute or two for the prisoner to make it through the metal check, and then came Andre’s turn, which passed much more quickly. His escorts were left behind, along with his handcuffs, and he now had to carry his own luggage. He was given directions to the gymnasium by a guard, and he found his way there without issue. The gymnasium, which actually looked pretty normal, had about thirty demons standing and chattering there - and one angel.
He was thin and boyish with well-groomed blond hair like Samson’s, and he wore neat clothes like Andre. His halo was a smooth ring and his wings were small and shaped like those of a songbird. He struck Andre as… eighteen years old, or younger. But minors would go to a different place, right?
Regardless, Andre began making his way towards the angel, thinking he’d be safer with him - but then he saw a demon climb onto the stage at the front of the gymnasium. Given the brown suit he was wearing, he was clearly someone in charge. Andre stopped and turned to the stage.
The demon, a tall black man of sepia complexion, had short black hair, a trimmed beard and large red-black-striped horns, but his most striking feature was his eyes, which had deep red sclerae and yellow irises. Despite the demon’s eerie gaze, Andre found himself fighting off even more indecent thoughts. Damn it, was there something in Hell’s air making him more amorous than usual? Besides, even if dancing with demons wasn’t dangerous, trying to flirt with someone in charge would probably end poorly for him, especially if they were the same sex as him.
The demon on the stage cleared his throat, and Andre told himself to focus. This would likely be important.
“Everyone,” he said, his voice deep and masculine, “settle down.” As the chatter trailed off and the crowd turned to face the stage, he continued. “Thank you. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Gideon Ronove, and I am the head supervisor of this program. I will be supervising the operations of this facility for the duration of the program, or the next four months. I hope that these four months will pass smoothly.”
A pause. “Now, more about the program. You likely know this by now, but in case you don’t: the Woe State Young Adult Rehabilitation Program, or the YARP for short, is an experimental program meant for first-time offenders between the ages of 18 and 25 whose crimes were severe but committed for quote-unquote ‘understandable’ reasons. Unlike traditional prisons, this program seeks to rehabilitate you rather than punish you. There will still be restrictions placed on your daily life, but these are for reasons of security rather than an attempt to discourage you from further criminal activity through applied discomfort.”
Andre nodded to himself. This seemed alright so far.
“However,” Mr Ronove said, raising his voice, “do not take us for fools. The guards of this facility are trained and experienced professionals, and so am I. I have worked in corrections for fifteen years, and I know all the tricks. So don’t try them. Step out of line, and it’s off to my old workplace West Woe Penitentiary, where you’ll be sewing jeans for twelve hours a day.”
Well then.
“To move on to more practical matters…”
Mr Ronove went on to explain that the inmates would be divided between four supervisors, each of them getting eight inmates to be responsible for. This supervisor would be the one to answer their assigned inmates’ questions and act as a confidant in any sensitive matters, and they would also be the one to evaluate the inmates’ conduct during their stay and report their observations to the head supervisor.
They would not be responsible solely for their own conduct, however - this program involved a pair system. Every inmate would be paired with another, and one’s conduct would influence whether or not the other passed. This was to encourage cooperation.
Andre immediately started to worry. What if he got some jackass who couldn’t behave? Could he be doomed to forced labor just because of who his pair was? He sighed. He hoped he’d get paired with the angel even if it seemed highly unlikely.
It looked like he at least wouldn’t need to worry for long, though. After Mr Ronove finished mentioning some of the things the program would involve - there would be education regarding social and emotional skills, ethics, law and general knowledge as well as physical education - the time to assign the supervisors and pairs came. The supervisors had climbed up on stage, and one of them was Samson. Andre wished that he’d be assigned that friendly angel, and he was pleased to hear it when Ronove announced the following:
“Under Mark Samson, your ethics teacher and priest: Thomas Powell, Yardley Tucker, Jenny Hale, Trevor Lawrence, Ichiro Akai, Miguel Franco, Jian Cheng and Andre Duval.”
The people whose names had been called out, Andre included, made a line aligning with their supervisor like the others had done. To Andre’s great dismay, one of them was… that leather-jacketed guy from before.
He seemed to notice it, too, as he and Andre made eye contact. The demon looked away and huffed to himself.
Once all inmates had been assigned to their supervisors, these supervisors stepped down from the stage and gathered their group’s members in their own huddles.
“Well, then,” Samson said, still smiling, “it seems that I’ll be your shepherd, so to speak. Everybody feeling alright?”
The group’s members glanced around at each other, then mumbled affirmatives. Andre simply nodded. He wasn’t feeling alright, but he didn’t want to make a scene.
“Great to hear! But if you ever get something on your mind, find me and talk to me, alright? I wanna make sure you’re all as comfortable as can be.”
More mumbled affirmatives.
Samson nodded. “Alright. Let’s get to the pairs, then…”
Andre blinked. The pairs would be from this group? Well, it made sense, but he’d been hoping otherwise…
He glanced at the leather-jacketed demon, who glanced back. He seemed nervous, but was trying to hide it under a veil of cool indifference. Andre hoped he’d get paired with someone else. The other angel wasn’t in this group, so that ship had sailed, but maybe he’d get paired with the girl of the group, that blonde with the horns arranged like a crown? Then again, she had kind of a mean look on her face…
Samson had pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket while Andre had been looking away. He cleared his throat, and Andre prepared himself to listen.
“Okay, once you hear your name, raise your hand,” Samson said. “That way your pair will know who you are. Now! Our first pair is…”
Andre held his breath.
“Andre Duval…”
Already? God. Sure. Andre raised his hand, then drilled his eyes onto the leather-jacketed demon.
“...and Ichiro Akai.”
The demon didn’t have to raise his hand in order for Andre to find out that was his name. His face said it all.
Samson looked around, not seeing a second hand. “Ichiro Akai?”
‘Ichiro’ huffed and raised his hand, giving a nasty glare to Andre.
“Alright,” Samson said. “You two play nice, now.” He returned to the paper in his hands --
“It’s Red,” the demon said.
“Hm?” Samson looked up.
“It’s Red,” the demon repeated, annoyed, and lowered his hand. “Everyone calls me Red.”
“Alright-y,” Samson said, smiling again. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now, for the second pair…”
The rest of the pairs were announced without issue, and they left the gymnasium to begin a tour of the facility. They were shown the communal dining area, or ‘chow hall’, the yard, the rec room, the gym, the library, the laundry room, bathrooms and showers and finally their quarters. They were given their keys and allowed to place their luggage in their rooms - good, Andre was getting tired of hauling that thing around - after which the tour ended and it was time for dinner. They were escorted to the chow hall again in case anyone had forgotten where it was. It seemed that the other groups had finished their tours as well, as the hall was full.
Andre got in line like the others and received his serving of mashed potatoes and… beef stew.
Right. He’d already realized on the pit stop on the way here that Hell slaughtered real animals for their food, just like Earth. No ethically cultivated lab meat for him here. And no vegetarian options. Hell seemed to consider that too… unmasculine. Or maybe demons simply couldn’t subsist on plant proteins.
Andre couldn’t starve himself, though, so he’d just have to suck it up and --
“Hey! Angel boy! Over here!”
Andre flinched and looked towards the voice. He saw a thin and pale Eastern demoness smile and wave at him from a table across the hall. She had long, sandy brown hair and rectangular glasses as well as the nose, ears and wings of a bat. She wore a sleeveless magenta top and colorful little string bracelets and a similar necklace. Next to her sat another demoness of a heavier build, who was Western in turn and had darker skin. She had short brunette hair and a green bandanna pierced by two little crimson horns, and her bare arms had scars that Andre made a point not to stare at. She didn’t appear very enthusiastic.
The first demoness’ shout, however, seemed to also grab the attention of the other angel in the hall - the one Samson had mentioned and Andre had almost spoken to before. He was sitting in another corner of the hall when he saw the demoness waving, then followed her stare to Andre, then began waving at Andre himself.
“O-over here! Hey!” he shouted. “I wanna get to know you!”
“She called first!” the red-horned demoness shouted at the unnamed angel, her voice louder and deeper. The bat-demoness flinched and raised her palms at her companion, who rolled her eyes, then looked to Andre and made a beckoning motion. The angel frowned, but kept gesturing himself and mouthing the words ‘come here’.
Andre’s gaze jumped between the angel and the demonesses. Which one should he pick? He really wanted to stick with the angel, but… the entire hall was watching by now because of all the shouting. If Andre chose to go with the angel, they might think that he thinks less of demons… which he maybe did, but he knew was a very stupid idea to show.
Andre made his decision. Heart pounding, he walked over to the demoness’ table and sat down.
“Yeah!” the red-horned demoness cheered. “Suck it, little man!” she shouted at the other angel right after. The angel made an indignant face, then shook his head and resumed his eating.
The bat-demoness sighed, but then turned to Andre and smiled. “Hi! I’m Alice,” she said, offering a hand.
Andre took her hand and shook it. “I’m Andre,” Andre said. “Pleased to meet you.”
“I’m Camila,” said the red-horned demoness, pointing to herself with a thumb. “Me and Alice are girlfriends. Got a problem with that?”
Andre raised his palms, heartbeat surging. “Oh, no, not at all. I’m… pan myself.” Oh god. He’d already blabbed it. Or… did they even know here what that meant?
“Huh.” Camila crossed her arms. It seemed like they knew what it meant, then. “I thought they hated sexual minorities in Heaven.”
“N…no?” Andre said hesitantly. “Where did you hear that?”
“It’s a common rumor about Heaven,” Alice explained. “Is it not true?”
Andre shook his head. “O-oh, no. In Heaven, it’s okay to be any orientation or gender.”
The demonesses exchanged a look. “Well, that sounds great,” Alice said, smiling, and she sounded like she meant it. Andre dared to smile back.
“Hmm.” Camila didn’t seem as pleased. “Yeah, I bet you have a wonderful place over there, with your equality and your robot servants, but when are you gonna share that prosperity with Hell?”
“Uh…” Andre hadn’t prepared himself for this conversation.
Alice lay a hand on Camila’s shoulder. “Mila, take it easy. We don’t know if angels like him have any say in what Heaven’s government does.”
Camila looked to Alice, then to Andre. “Well, do you?”
“Well…” Andre shook his head, glancing away. “No, not really. In terms of Hell, anyway. You’re not even allowed to talk about it.”
Camila scratched her cheek. “Huh.”
“Yeah, well, you can talk about it a little as long as you don’t do it publicly,” Andre amended. “If you do, though, they can charge you with ‘demoralizing’.”
“What happens then?” Camila asked.
“Mandatory sensitivity training program,” Andre said. “And if you do that, and then still talk about it… prison. In Hell.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
“Huh? Oh, no. I did, uh… something else.”
Camila frowned. “Did you rape somebody?”
“Wh-” Andre’s eyes widened. “No! I would never do something like that!”
Never? Even with the thoughts you’ve had?
The demoness relaxed. “Good.”
There was a spell of uncomfortable silence.
“Ah… yes, well…” Alice began. “Why don’t you tell us what your impressions of Hell are so far? I’m curious.”
“Uh…” Andre looked around, his eyes falling on the windows up by the ceiling - was every building he went to going to have their windows high up like that? Regardless, the clear red sky still shone through. It hadn’t changed in these few hours.
“It’s very… red,” Andre then said. “Heaven is more white and green.”
“Green? Is it the plants?” Alice asked.
“Yeah. Though they can have yellow and brown parts too, like here. But the leaves are almost always green.”
Alice nodded. “Like on Earth, then.”
Andre paused, gathering up his courage to ask a question. “How much do you know about Earth around here?”
“Things,” Alice said. “The sinners get milder sentences if they provide us with information about Earth. We owe a lot of technological advancements to them.”
“Uh… hmm.” Andre wasn’t necessarily a fan. Could evil people worm their way out of the consequences of their actions just by knowing more things?
“You must be thinking that that’s unfair,” Alice said. “It figures for an angel. Unless the rumors about angels having a stronger desire for justice are untrue?”
“No, I’d say they’re true,” Andre said. “Though, I mean, depends on how strong we’re talking. It’s not like it’s overpowering. We still have different personalities, much like I’m sure you demons do even though…”
Andre realized his mistake and quieted.
“Even though what?” Camila asked, offended.
Andre cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking. I shouldn’t go assuming that the rumors Heaven has about demons are true.”
“What do they say there?” Alice asked.
Andre glanced away. “Well, that… demons are more… well…”
“Well, spit it out,” Camila said.
“...That demons enjoy violence,” Andre finally got out, fidgeting. He hoped he hadn’t just signed his death warrant.
“Oh, that? That’s just true,” Alice said. “We need to enjoy violence to be able to torment sinners. Don’t worry about that.”
Andre sighed in relief. “Whew, okay. I just really don’t want to offend.”
“It’s fine. So, back to your impressions of Hell?”
Andre explained his experiences in Hell from emerging from the portal to arriving at the facility - the strict security at the portal, the warm air with rotten-egg smell outside, the congested metropolis of Torment City with its rampant advertising, a tangent on how there is no private sector in Heaven, the factories spouting thick, black smoke, the pit stop on which Andre first realized the meat problem, the rest of the way to the facility. Upon Andre’s mention of lab meat, Alice immediately prompted to tell him more with a gleam in her eyes. Andre explained what he knew, though this was less than what the demoness seemed to want to know as a self-identified science lover. After that, though, Andre could resume the recounting of his experiences and got to his interaction with Red at the metal detector.
“God, I’m sorry about that,” Alice said, then sighed. “There’s still a lot of bigotry here, and it doesn’t seem like it’s going away any time soon…”
“But we’re gonna fight it anyway,” Camila said with a grin, wrapping her arm around Alice. “Ain’t that right, Lis?”
Alice smiled at her girlfriend. “Of course!” She turned back to Andre. “Oh, but I should mention, I actually know that guy.”
“You know Red?” Andre asked, glancing around the hall and spotting the demon at the other end of the hall. He was sitting alone.
“Yeah, we went to the same university,” Alice said. “I was in physics and he was in biology. Always wore that same jacket, that’s how I recognize him.” She frowned. “He was never nice, but I didn’t think he was a call-people-slurs kinda guy.”
Andre kept staring at Red. A university student. He didn't seem like the type - he seemed like the type to have too much trouble with authority to go into further education. And, well, it was judgmental, but Andre didn't think he'd have the smarts for it, either.
“Well, anyway,” Andre said, turning back to the demonesses, “I should mention that I also got paired up with him.”
“No!” Alice said. “Oh, that sucks so much.”
“Yeah…”
“Maybe you can ask for a reassignment. Who’s your supervisor?”
“Samson, the angel guy.”
“Yeah, he seems nice. I’m sure he’d understand, especially if Heaven is more progressive like you said.”
“Hmm…” Andre thought about it. He’d like to get someone other than Red, but what if he got someone even worse? Or he’d be branded as some kind of princess who can’t handle a bit of rudeness?
“I think I’ll wait a bit first,” he said. “Maybe he was just… posturing before, or something.”
“Maybe,” Alice said. “Keep me posted, alright?”
“Will do,” Andre said. So she wanted to talk again later. That was alright. She seemed nice, and her girlfriend didn’t seem that bad, even if she was kind of scary.
Alice nodded, then looked at Andre’s plate. “I should probably let you eat. Your food’s getting cold.”
“Ah! Right. Thanks.” Andre took a forkful of beef, but then froze. Right. Real animals. Well, he’d managed to get Hell food down once before…
He began to eat. It wasn’t pleasant, and hardly just because the food was cold. He couldn’t help but think of the horrid conditions these animals must have spent their whole lives in only to be killed and skinned and cut up into marketable chunks which then were cut up further and cooked and served and chewed and swallowed and digested and…
“Well, while you’re eating, I should tell you stuff about that other angel,” Camila said.
“Hmm?” Andre vocalized, mouth still full of dead animal tissue -- No, concentrate on what was said. That other angel that had tried to get his attention? He looked over to where the angel had sat, but it seemed like he was gone already.
“Yeah, I got paired up with him. His name’s Eric, and he does not like demons. Every time one gets close to him, he makes a face like he’s smelled something bad.”
Andre swallowed, more easily now that he had something else on his mind. He… understood Eric’s reaction to an extent, but to be so openly averse… just wasn’t polite. Unbecoming of an angel, really. “That’s unfortunate,” Andre said, then got the idea for something that would surely make him appear more demon-friendly. “But hey, maybe he’s just been told a lot of bad things about demons. I can talk to him, see if he’ll come around.”
“You can talk to him, sure, but just make sure you don’t make it sound like I asked you to,” Camila said. “Because I’m not. Got that?”
“Uh, y-yeah, I’ve got that,” Andre said. “Besides, even if you had asked me to talk to him, I wouldn’t tell on you. I’m not that kind of person, I swear.”
Camila huffed. “Good.”
Andre resumed his eating, and so did the demonesses for the little they had left. Once done, they brought back their dishes and each headed into their quarters to unpack. Andre arrived at the room number he was assigned, 112C, and unlocked the door. He stepped in, and unsurprisingly, Red was also there. The demon was on his bed, lying on his back with his hands behind his head. His horns seemed to be gone. He'd probably made them disappear the way Andre assumed the chauffeur had made his tail disappear in order to sit in the driver’s seat and how Andre made his glowing wings and halo disappear every night so that he could actually get some sleep.
Red stared at Andre for a moment, his expression mostly blank with a tinge of irritation, then directed his gaze back to the ceiling.
Andre sighed quietly. He supposed he should try to talk to him, no matter how little either of them wanted it, no matter how there was a non-zero chance of a mauling.
Andre cleared his throat. “You know,” he began, “if we're gonna be pairs, I think we should try to get along.”
Red frowned, but didn't look at Andre. “We'll get along as well as we get along.”
Andre frowned in turn. He let something slip before thinking. “You could make at least a bit of an effort.”
Red looked into Andre's eyes. Andre’s stomach sank. What had he done? Why would he give a demon lip? Was he stupid?
Then again, he knew he couldn’t just be a doormat. There was always a chance that demons would think even less of someone for not standing up for themselves. Andre just wished he wasn’t so afraid. Or have that other feeling, that feeling he knew he shouldn’t have because it wouldn’t lead to anything good…
“I'll do what I want,” Red said, returning his gaze to the ceiling.
Andre slowly took a deep breath in and out. “Alright,” he said.
Silence returned to the room, and Andre determined that the conversation was over. He walked over to his bag, began unpacking, unpacked, and finished unpacking. Not that there was much to do - just place the items in the chest of drawers at the foot of his bed.
When the bag was empty, he gave Red another look. He was still staring at the ceiling.
Andre figured that staying here was going to be bad for his mental health. He didn't know if going out was much better, but he could at least try.
“I'm going to the rec room,” he said, ready to exit the room.
“Why do you think I care?” Red said.
Andre sighed quietly. “I just figured that we, as pairs, would like to know where we're going.”
“Well, I don't. And I'm not gonna be telling you shit about where I'm going.”
God, what a jackass. “Alright, then,” Andre mumbled and left the room.
Andre, being someone with a sharp memory, had no trouble finding his way back to the rec room. Unlike the first time, it was now in active use - demons sitting on the couches, the beanbag chairs, the floor or by the table and playing with cards or the pinball machine or just watching the TV by the ceiling. Andre stepped closer to the TV to make sense of what was going on - looked like some kind of… arena fight?
A crimson-furred bull with four horns and tusks pawed at the ground, then charged at a large draconic demon - was that demon a person or an animal? - only to be grabbed by the skull and -- oh Arukei. Andre quickly looked away so that he wouldn’t subjected to another gory nightmare.
Instead, he looked around, trying to find either the angel inmate or Alice or Camila. He couldn’t spot any of them, but he did spot someone else that caught his attention.
In the far corner of the room stood a lanky Eastern demoness with short black hair. Bangs with a navy blue streak covered her forehead, and she wore a hoodie and jeans in other, even more inoffensive shades of blue. She had the ears of a black cat at the top of her head, partially flattened, and her eyes were yellow with slit, albeit dilated, pupils. Her tail, all black, brushed against her legs, tucking itself between them every now and then.
Even without the feline body language, it was obvious that the girl was distressed. She was grasping her arms, her black-furred thumb stroking up and down, and she was even… shaking? Good Arukei, she must have been feeling terrible. And there was no one to comfort her.
Well, Andre could help with that. Andre should help with that.
Andre walked through the room, weaving past the groups of demons, and arrived before the cat-demoness. She noticed him, but avoided his gaze, possibly hoping that he wasn’t there for her. Andre hesitated for a moment, wondering if his talking to her would actually bring her even more distress, but ultimately decided to speak.
“Hey,” Andre said with a friendly smile. The demoness glanced at him, then past him, then at the ground, then at him again, then at the ground again, then past him again. Eye contact was clearly uncomfortable for her.
Still, Andre continued. “I’m Andre. What’s your name?”
“...Suki,” she said quietly.
“Nice to meet you, Suki.”
“Likewise…”
Andre looked away himself. Maybe that would make her more comfortable. “You don’t know anyone here, I take it?”
Suki shook her head. “No, it’s just me…”
“Not even your pair?”
“No, he’s… we don’t get along.”
“Mm. I know the feeling. My pair doesn’t like me either.”
“What’s your… pair like?”
She was getting a bit more confident. Good. “Did you spot that guy with the dog ears and the studded leather jacket?”
Suki looked Andre in the eyes long enough to nod. “Yeah.”
“Well, he’s not very nice.”
“Mm…” She nodded again. “My pair’s not nice either.”
“Who’d you get paired up with?”
“Jake,” she said. “I don’t remember his last name. But he’s the guy with the pig head.”
Andre remembered seeing someone like that around. “Don’t know him,” Andre said, “but now I’ll know to avoid him.”
“Yeah.”
A spell of silence. Andre was about to break it, but to his surprise, Suki was the one to speak next.
“Are you from Heaven?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Andre answered.
“Is it nice there?”
“It was nice there,” Andre said. “Or, well, probably still is. I can’t go back, though.”
“Oh,” she said. “Was that your punishment?”
“In addition to this program, yeah.”
“Right, yeah…” Suki nodded again. Then she shuddered.
Andre tilted his head. “Are you cold?”
“No, it’s just withdrawal from --” Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth. “Oh, no, no. No, I shouldn’t have said that, oh…” She grasped her head next, sharp claws emerging from her fingertips.
Andre froze. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m -- yes, I’m okay, I’m --” She began breathing heavily. “I-I have to go!”
She dashed past Andre, squeezed her way through the groups of demons with feline agility and exited the room. Andre contemplated going after her, but maybe it was better not to. He didn’t want to upset her any further.
Not too long after, though, a pair of familiar women walked through the door - Alice and Camila. They noticed Andre, too, and made their way to him.
“Hey, Andre!” Alice greeted. “Long time no see.”
“Hey there,” Andre said. “Did your unpacking go well?”
“Yeah. They have more storage room here than I expected.” She paused as Andre nodded, then continued. “How’d it go with Red? If he was there, that is.”
“Yeah, he was there,” Andre sighed. “He made it pretty clear that he’s not interested in being civil.”
“Oh, sorry to hear,” Alice said. “Will you be asking for a reassignment, then?”
Andre crossed his arms. “Mm… no, I don’t think I will. I mean, I’m pretty sure I can still handle this. Plus, if I ask for a reassignment, someone else will be stuck with him, and I might get someone worse. I think I’m just gonna try making this work.”
“Well, you do you,” Alice said. She glanced at Camila, since she’d been quiet, and saw that she was occupied with watching the battle on TV. “Camila?”
“Yeah?” Camila turned around. “Sorry, they got a pack of bonecrushers tearing apart a sinner.”
“Ah, okay.”
“What's a bonecrusher?” Andre asked. He almost glanced at the TV before he remembered he didn't want to subject himself to that.
Are you sure? It’s a sinner. He was probably a rapist or something. You’ve already helped send a lot of them here. You know they deserve it. You know you want to revel in their pain.
Camila looked to Andre. “A breed of hellhound.” She grinned. “I love hellhounds. My family breeds ‘em, so I’ve been around them my whole life.”
“Hellhounds,” Andre repeated. He realized that the top Camila wore had a stylized horned canine skull on it.
”Yeah, they’re awesome,” Camila said. “I guess they don’t have those in Heaven, though?”
“Well, we don’t have hellhounds, no, but we do have heaven-hounds.”
“Heaven-hounds?”
“Yeah. They’re like Earth dogs, but have halos and wings, like angels. Only they can actually fly with them. We angels can’t. Arukei’s decision, for whatever reason.”
“Oh, yeah. I was wondering about that,” Camila said. “The fences they have here wouldn’t be very effective if you could just take off, I guess.”
“Yeah.”
Alice nodded and spoke up again. “So, could you tell us more about Heaven again?“
“Oh, sure thing,” Andre said. “Let’s see. Where to begin…”
---
At 10:24 PM, Andre took off his glasses and lay down on his new bed for the first time. He let himself simply breathe for a moment while staring at the white ceiling.
Well, here he was, at the end of his first day in Hell. A lot had happened. Lots of culture shock in one day. How would he fare here? Would he even pass the program, paired up with Red?
He looked at Red. The demon was lying in his own bed, facing the wall, probably already asleep. Hopefully he wouldn’t snore.
Andre took a deep breath and let it out. However uncooperative Red would be, he’d just have to deal with it. And, hey, it would probably work out. After all, Red had been rude - very rude - but not actively malicious so far. He could have been a lot worse.
In fact… none of the demons Andre had met had been that bad. Even though most of them were supposed to be criminals. Was Heaven… wrong about them? Well, maybe not entirely. Alice and Camila did still say demons enjoyed violence, and the gladiator battles in the rec room corroborated that theory. They had to still be… dangerous, right?
Well, regardless, it was hard to be glad about being proven wrong about demons for too long. Andre’s situation still sucked. He was in Hell, far from Heaven, and he’d never get to go back home. He would never be able to see Ellie again, or Katie, or his parents or his brothers… even if most of his family hated him now, knowing that he was a Blackwing.
Ellie, though. Ellie had only been sad. Sad that her brother was jailed, then sent away to Hell, forced to live in the realm of sinners and demons. She hadn’t judged him for what he’d done or was assumed to have done, or if she did, she didn’t let it show.
Andre’s stomach twisted. He missed her so much. He missed home. He missed the days before the bust. When all his relationships were still intact. His friends, Katie especially, her drawings and her writing. Yet he knew he’d done the right thing. That Blackwing’s mission had been righteous.
He sighed. Maybe… maybe there was a chance he could let all of that go here. Start anew. If he didn’t simply starve or get sent to a worse prison after this one, maybe he could… make some kind of life for himself. However meager.
And he could still write to Ellie, right? He’d promised he would, and he’d been told that it was possible. The angels of Hell were still allowed to send mail to Heaven and receive it all the same. Whether that’s really work in practice, though, he’d just have to find out.
Deciding it was time to stop thinking and just turn in, Andre shut off his bedside lamp and nestled under the blanket. It was thinner than the one at home, just like the mattress, but Hell was warmer anyway. He’d be fine.
He closed his eyes, withdrew his wings and halo and began waiting for sleep.
---
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