The Devil's Not So Favorite Demon

TRIGGER WARNING: Hints of SA 

.:.The Devil’s Not So Favorite Demon.:.

.:.Early March, Following the final episode of Season 1.:.

The secret was out.



“You failed me for the last time, child.” his bayou accented voice growled with his hand wrapped tightly around her throat. Usually she’d have air to gasp in but his grip wouldn’t relent.



All she could get out was a mouthed ‘Please’ before he shoved her as hard as she could against the wall to drive even what little air she had in her lungs out, dropping practically unconscious in a heap on an already soiled floor. If she was remotely aware of herself, she would feel the blood dribble from not only her mouth but from the back of her head.



Through the haze of her green eyes, she would see the man that she would worship limp out of the room and with a glare to the freaks that she would once use to torment the very people he would set her on all he would say is “Do with her as you want, then I don’t want to see her ever again....but keep her alive, I want her to live with this for the rest of her days.”



There was no one to save her.



She had rather wished he had killed her in exchange for what happened next.



When they dumped her broken and beaten body hours later in a remote field, she would stare up at the sky filled with stars, her eyes dead but tears still streaming as she would silently pray for death to take her quickly, calling out to her mother that it was only a matter of time til she joined her. Though for the atrocities she committed in the name of her now former master, she was pretty sure her mother would push her off to hell herself.



Then the clouds came, followed by a deafening roar of thunder. This would never wash away the shame, this wouldn’t wash away her bruises, her blood and other fluids that she had been laying with for what felt like hours but the Gods were just laughing at her and the Devil was tormenting her, continuing her existence on the mortal plain.



If the world was just, it would strike her from existence. Once again, laughing and tormenting. The story of her sad pathetic life.



So if they weren’t going to do the duty and finish her once and for all, because THAT would be easy, she would crawl across the earth on her hands and knees in spite of them. She hated that that bastard got his wish to keep her alive, one day perhaps she would strangle him to near death and return the favor.



In fact, she would consider it an honor.



It’s absolutely amazing as to how easy it was to go from bending her knee, willing to sacrifice her very wellbeing to wishing she had the strength to go back and burn the whole fucking place down around him and she’d gladly burn with him. But for now if she were to die, that would be her life to a ‘T’, not allowing her that one potential brief glimmer of hope that someday she would hand the son of a bitch his own beating heart.



But here she was, in the middle of fuck knows where, dark, wet, broken, bloody and used.



For hours. Or what she could only assume to be hours. She would go through the stages over and over of loss. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Then the tears would come again and the process would start all over again.



Somewhere in the middle of the third round of bargaining with the Gods and Devils, it happened.



Muri, her mirror and the song. She would feel herself rise from the ground after the child told her that they were searching for her after she was excommunicated.



It felt like a dream.



Maybe she had died after all.



“How is she?” she heard that voice, the one that made her think that she had died and was carried to whatever afterlife had awaited her. But considering the pain that had been coursing through every centimeter of her body since they have brought her out of her slumber.



Pity.



“Internally, she has healed quite nicely. They did a number on her, worse than when you first came to us. The good news also it seems as if the medication that was administered did work.” she assumed that was whatever this place was’ medical personal.



“Thank goodness, that was the last thing she needed.” a familiar man’s voice popped up. “Muri, why don’t you stay with her today? You’re a familiar face and if she saw mine, she may freak out.”



“You worry too much.” she heard Muri say in jest, “But don’t worry, I’m sure everything will be just fine.”



“You’re a good kid, despite what the guys say about you.”



“Can’t help if they’re scared of me.”



She could feel herself laugh for the first time in a while, the brother and sister bond that was between the two was apparent, it reminded her of her brother before everything. But laughter? Honest laughter?

What was going on?



“Oh, looks like she’s waking up. Make yourself scarce, V. I’ll send status reports when I can.”



She could hear the shuffle of feet, hurriedly making it out of the room and then the humming, that damn humming from the child.



“Stop it.” Oh my God was that her voice? The coarseness, sounding like her voicebox had a belt sander taken to it. She would reach up and touch her throat gently for a moment.



“Sounds like you need water.” Muri would speak up, standing up from her chair and grabbing a already filled up, “The doc said you’d be needing this.”



Angel would just glare at the child, teenager? ....how old was this girl?



“Muri, remember?” the girl said, holding the straw towards Angel’s lips, “Sip, gently. You’re still recovering.”



Could she really trust this girl? Like she had much of a choice. Angel leaned up to take a sip of water, it felt like a desert getting its first taste of water in a century, it hurt at first then it was almost soothing, “How long?”



“You’ve been out for about two weeks. Figured it’d be better if you didn’t have to be awake for how they left you.” Muri said, reaching up with a napkin and wiping away the small dribble of water that fell on Angel’s face, “We tried to get to you sooner but...”



There was that word again “We”, the same word she heard out there in the middle of nowhere.



Muri always did have a way to keep things from her even before she vanished from the Carnival.



“It’s not like I would have gone.” Angel said laying back, “Where are we?”



“You’ll find out soon enough. For now just know that you are safe.” Muri said, looking over at her mirror.



“Is that the same mirror you had when-”



“No,” she quickly cut Angel off, “He shattered it when he realized that we weren’t going to simply give him what he wanted. I managed to save a shard...but like everything that he takes, it never has quite the same power when you leave him.”



“No, but you feel freer from his grip. ...I should know,” Angel says with a sadness in her voice, “My father, is he.. Did he-?”



Muri simply shakes her head, “They moved shortly after they dumped you so there’s no telling if he is even alive.” she holds the water up to Angel’s lips again, “Drink more. If you are up for it the crew said we could take you on a small tour.”



Angel takes one more sip of water, and grabs the cup from the young girl’s hand, “And maybe I can get more answers?”



Muri smirks, “The answers you seek will only create more questions, sister.”



“I knew that, somehow, you were going to say that.”

.:.The Devil's Rejects the Demons' Rise.:.

.:.Present Day.:.

“I’ve been contemplating things as of late.”



Angel sits at the head of a rather long boardroom table. Her what was once redhead is now dyed jet black, there is a definite change about her that is even more sinister of what was season 1. Her body stretches and the lean legs kick up on the table, covered from almost upper thigh to toes in leather heels. Bringing her hands up in front of her and each bloody tipped finger taps against the opposite twin.



“As you know, I have had quite a change. Banished from the left hand of the damning individual that claimed to be worse than the devil himself, when in fact when there is no one left to do his dirty work he pisses off like dust in the wind.”



She reaches down and grips at something. Her hand raises ever so slightly and she blows on it and dust flies off it. ...or what we can assume is dust. A wicked little black colored lips smirk crosses her face graced by the deep green eyes.



“See, now it’s a new ballgame, now I’m not held back in fear of a master that would savagely beat me for even whispering an incorrect syllable. The likes of my opponents when season 2 opens for PWE, should be rather concerned because at this point, even the devil himself doesn’t know what I will do next.”



She slinks, like a snake, to her feet and she stands against the table, her first curled to hold her up. Far from the beaten form from months ago, she looks stronger than she ever has.



“But I do know that these opponents that I face, and I do notice the new names there, I’d like to help you. I am the Fallen One, Angel and this whole new season is more like a resurgence. The pain that I will inflict on the likes of Jurgen Kaiser or even Joe Montuori, is not going to be the same as Betsy Granger or Jensen Lane or even Emily Williams. I know I won’t have the time to torture and torment you each invidually like I want but I am going to show you just a tiny taste of what it was like when I was left for dead.”



The final three words of that, her fist punches the table and the glass cracks under the force behind it. We see Muri stand at her side and holding her mirror.



“You see, I haven’t lost my will or want to inflict the pain that this whole fucking world deserves to experience. YOU WILL EXPERIENCE THE TRUE PAIN AND HAVE TO LOOK AT IT THROUGH MY EYES! Now I’m just going to enjoy it more and more everytime you all wince just a little bit, every time I feel a bone pop, a ligament tear, a YELP of pain and the screams of agony is going to be like the 5th movement of the great Opus ever created.”



Leaning even further down, she smiles, leaning on her hand and singsongs with a laugh.



“The one where the Fallen rise, and the devil himself cries.”