Chapter Text
Vincent had never given the idea of an afterlife much thought. In fact, he didn’t often think even a month ahead. The man preferred to live in the moment. And boy, did he do so grandiosely.
Maybe that’s why he allowed such a slip at the worst possible moment.
A shame. Usually, however short-sighted, Vincent’s plans were thorough and notorious. After all, when you want something so badly, you’ll try your hardest to succeed. You can always find a way to deal with consequences later, but you shouldn’t allow any setbacks to happen in the process, right?
But Vincent has gotten a bit carried away. And now it hurt so bad.
God, the pain was immeasurable.
His entire body burned like hellfire and his face ached like it had been sliced into a million pieces, which probably wasn’t far from the truth. A piercing scream escaped his throat as he felt himself disintegrate. His limbs twitched uncontrollably as the agony continued, and then-
Then there was nothing.
No pain. No burning. No sensations at all, actually.
Vincent gasped for air with desperation. It was a great relief, surely, but he still hasn’t come to his senses.
As he gradually regained his eyesight and his breathing began to steady, his brain was finally able to form a coherent thought:
‘I’m… Alive?’
He took a few deep breaths and tried his best to focus on his surroundings.
Where was he?
While he couldn’t fully trust his eyes after such a shock, it seemed like he was floating in a black void. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t feel any ground under him, either. However, his sense of touch was probably untrustworthy, too. Vincent decided that after some time he would surely snap out of this weird daze and wake up in a hospital room.
‘Vincent’.
The man’s train of thought was interrupted by a voice. It was all-encompassing, coming from everywhere at once, and extremely overwhelming. Vincent’s hands instinctively jolted to his ears, but that didn’t help.
‘You have died. In quite a peculiar way, too. It’s not every day that a TV falls on a man’s head’.
What?
‘And you managed to take all your followers with you. A newsworthy tragedy, indeed’.
Vincent tried to process this information. Some cables must have torn, a damn CRT somehow fell right on his head, which caused the electrical shock and, apparently… killed him.
No.
‘NO!’ Vincent shouted. ‘I was… I was THIS close to becoming a literal God! They were- They were worshipping me, I was so-‘
‘Silence. Listen carefully to the verdict. I won’t repeat myself’.
‘Who are you and why should I even listen to you when I am clearly experiencing the GREATEST TRAGEDY POSSIBLE?’
‘You were so prideful and envious that you turned to murder. Many people died directly by your hands, and even more people will never leave the basement where you conducted your final display of power. You have doomed yourself and you will now be sent to Hell. Do you wish to say anything?’
Vincent stayed silent for a while. It was… too much, all at once.
Guess the afterlife exists after all, huh. Well, he should have known. And this weird voice, which he couldn’t find any adjectives for, belongs to a deity. God, perhaps, or whatever.
Or maybe he was just hallucinating the entire scenery. Entirely possible! But it probably didn’t make much of a difference, now. He’d just have to wait and see. So he could as well ask this mysterious creature something.
‘So, will I be eternally boiled in some cauldron and poked with a trident by a demon? Something like that?’
Now that he thought about it, if the agony to come would be anything like whatever he experienced in that stupid basement, he didn’t want any part of it. It... scared him. So while the voice thought of an answer, Vincent prayed. Finally, he heard:
‘No. You will see for yourself what awaits you. Goodbye’.
Vincent, unsure of what to think, felt himself slipping from this vast blackness and into another scenery.
Oh, he will see. He will see.
_____________________
‘Get out, b**ch!’
Vincent didn’t reply. Instead, he drew out a knife.
‘Oh sh*t, you motherf-‘
The sinner couldn't finish his insult, as he suddenly had to dodge a strike. He ran a few feet away, grabbed the nearest chair and threw it at the intruder with all the might he could gather through the adrenaline. Vincent jolted out of the way, but not far enough, as right after he fell on the floor with a scream. Fortunately, he made sure not to drop the knife, so his victim couldn't take it easily.
The sinner Vincent was after sprinted to grab another weapon of his own, this time it being a guitar. It only managed to stroke Vincent’s antennae, however, as the man ducked just in time. Vincent then leaped, managed to throw his opponent off-balance and pinned down both of the sinners’ hands.
‘Listen, man, we can- we can talk this out, please, I-‘
No.
Vincent knew just where to hit. And so he did.
The only difference was that this time he didn't have to hide the body. He could just… Throw it right out the window. Not like he hadn’t already seen similar things happen here. A dead body will surely be of use to someone around.
And this flat will certainly be of use to Vincent.
Out went the previous owner, and Vincent sighed with relief. Finally, someplace to live! Why hadn't he done it sooner?
The man spread out on his new couch and began to think.
If he could take a flat from someone this easily, someone could surely do the same to him. He'll have to be careful. Think of some protective measures. Stay on guard. Anything but ending up stranded on the street again, since that was surely an unpleasant experience. Or worse, Vincent could die. Die again, that is.
That was a weird concept, no matter how much he thought about it. Hell is supposed to be an eternal punishment, and sinners just… Die like regular humans? Maybe there's a catch. Regeneration? He hasn't witnessed anything like that yet. Then again, he hadn't been in Hell for that long. Rebirth? Could be. He'll find out, eventually. Best to avoid double dying, in any case. Not risking ceasing to exist altogether. This place was… Horrible, indeed, but far from the atrocity he had initially expected. Seems like one could live a satisfying enough life here, if they tried hard enough. Fortunately, Vincent was all about trying hard enough.
The man glanced over his new, perhaps, temporary, room. Posters with porn stars, a table, a now broken chair, what's left of a guitar, the couch Vincent was currently occupying, a closet… A mirror.
Vincent lingered on it for a few seconds and quickly turned away.
God, he looked so stupid. So, so stupid. And he felt so weird and unnatural, too. No sh*t, he had a literal CRT replace his beloved head! Whatever being in charge of sinners’ appearances had a cruel sense of humor. Because now his head was big, heavy and square and his face felt numb. Humiliating. Hellish.
Made sense, perhaps. But still.
Vincent stood up and went to the kitchen to get something to drink. On his way he thought that he should certainly plan his next actions. He had to find some sort of income, since you can't rely on pickpocketing and burglary forever. He could start with the nearest shops, there should be some vacancies somewhere. Or he could just kill someone and replace them.
Ugh. His dumb TV head hurt from all the thinking. Perhaps he should go to sleep and plan his life - or, should he say, afterlife - after that.
For now, he could pour himself a random liquid from the fridge and take a few deep breaths.
He'll manage. He'll crawl out of this hole and into the spotlight again.