Hellfire ✞ a.f.i.

27: the pit

All the good girls go to hell,
'cause even God herself has enemies,
And once the water starts to rise,
And heaven's out of sight,
She'll want the devil on her team.

all the good girls go to hell ; Billie Eilish

✞

            As soon as Ashton stepped foot outside Fremont Street Fortunes, the air, the rain, the very clouds seem to droop much heavier. His eyes narrow as his hair quickly becomes saturated, dripping thick drops down his face. The gold and red neon of Fremont Street reflect at him across the wet pavement, a stark contrast between false warmth and thin, drowning cold. He casts one fleeting glance back through the glass, catching a glimpse of Eden disappearing up the stairs, presumably to clean herself up and relax. He hopes more than anything that she is able to relax; even if she were to fall asleep, exhausted by the terrors that had befallen her throughout the past few months, he wouldn't mind.

          Their world, however, is not kind enough to allow them a night in.

          Luke would be lucky to be able to stand on one leg after Ashton was done with him. Despite that nagging feeling screaming in the back of his mind that Luke is not working alone, that not all of Eden's wounds fit Luke's M.O., he couldn't pinpoint who would be working with him. Hemmings hadn't worked with anyone other than Ashton for as long as Ashton had known him—his entire immortal life. There were no other Altiors or Exemplarises that would be willing to work with him. Considering all of this, he figures handling Luke in the Compound would be easy; perhaps he could even blackmail or pay him off in a manner that would not bring unnecessary violence between them. He's a good kid, Ashton thought, he just stepped on the wrong person's foot and needs to be taught a good fucking lesson.

          He passes by the few remaining street performers as they are packing up and seeking shelter under the various street bars and knick knack shops. His wings, outward and prepared, yet cloaked, cover his arms as the rainwater slides down the material of his jacket. He pulls the collar of his turtleneck upwards, suddenly aware that he could be being watched. While this would be easy, he still has to be careful.

          He pushes forward and back behind an alley near the entrance of Fremont Street. Once outside of the electronic dome, he spreads his wings, shaking the excess moisture off of them gently before thrusting himself into the air, shivering as he cloaks his entire body. The wind and the rain begin to slice against his face as he makes his way towards the MGM Grand, where he assumes Luke would be, on shift, blending in. He had assumed that Luke would be waiting for Eden to happen by on her pursuit of Michael where he would once again attempt to kill her. Not this time. Ashton was planning on beating him to the punch. The heavy bottles of Holy Water clatter within his pockets as he glides across the lightning.