Tony Almeida: Redemption

His eyes opened to the interior of a car. It was a bleak day, a rarity for Los Angeles. Scanning his surroundings, he noticed a warehouse in the distance. SWAT vans, LAPD cars, and every other law enforcement agency Tony could think of were rapidly approaching, sirens blaring, tires skidding. He wasn’t alone in the car. Looking to his left, he noticed Emerson, who watched the warehouse intently from the driver’s seat. There was a device of some kind in his lap.

“Just a few more minutes, then they’ll be in place. We have to be quick though, don’t want them to find the C4 in the floorboards before it has a chance to do its job.” There was a hint of pride in his voice as he discussed his plans.

C4? He’s going to blow up the warehouse? With all those agents inside?

Tony’s doubt was written all over his face. The discomfort in his brown eyes, the fact that he hadn’t responded to what Emerson had said, or even made eye-contact, as he stared blankly out the window.

“Right. Well if you’re going to act like that, you better prove to me you can finish this.” Emerson shoved the device into his lap.

If Tony showed any sign of hesitation or disloyalty, Emerson would kill him then and there. Nodding, he took the detonator in his hands. The metal was cold, lights of various colours flashed across the top, as wires and modules decorated the otherwise plain, grey box. But none of those components mattered, because Tony’s purpose was to simply press the large, white button at the centre. Watching as the last FBI agent entered the warehouse, he felt it compress beneath his finger, as the four metal walls of the warehouse burst away from each other.

Fire and smoke spread throughout the atmosphere, as limbs and shrapnel went flying. There was an eerie stillness following the deafening boom. Tony stared dumbfounded at the devastation that lay where the warehouse once was.

“Good.” Emerson was pleased with himself. “Now go get whatever you can find on them. And remember, I’ll be watching.” He heard the car door unlock, as he opened it, knees wobbling. Emerson shoved a large, plastic bag and some gloves, into his hand.

This was by far, the most treacherous thing Emerson had made him do. Smuggling weapons, making exchanges for quick cash, blackmailing or killing corrupt agents, that didn’t bother Tony. After everything the government had done to him, it felt right to get revenge in that way. But killing innocent people? Especially agents like he once was? No matter how hardened and bitter Tony had become, he still had a heart. And a conscience for that matter. It didn’t matter that a handful of those agents were corrupt, what mattered was that he’d taken the life of so many others who had no part in it. David Emerson was all he had left. His family and friends either thought he was dead, or were dead themselves. Emerson had treated him like a brother, after all, the government had screwed him over in a very similar way. This was just a few days before Tony could encounter Iké Dubaku, and finally get to Alan Wilson. But right now, Tony was regretting his actions, wondering if it was ever going to be worth it.

Tony walked mindlessly over to the field, the stench of burnt flesh and hot metal, filling the air. He took in his surroundings. Deep crimson puddles stained the concrete floor. Limbs and organs were scattered about, some penetrated by large pieces of metal. Various small fires were still burning, but with the cold wind, would soon fade away.

I did this. It’s my fault these people are dead.

“Get a move on, Tony. We don’t have all day.” Emerson’s warning voice echoed through his earpiece. Dodging stray gore, he found a moderately intact torso. Combing the body, he picked up a pistol, and a snapped flip-phone. The phone itself wouldn’t be of much use, but he knew there were components inside that could be used elsewhere. He continued the process, trying as hard as he could to distract his senses. But he couldn’t stop the bile rising in his throat. At one point, it was too much. Dropping the bag with a clang, he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the ground, keeling over. Tony hyperventilated as he steadied himself, and continued the nauseating procedure.

After some time, he was sure he’d gotten everything he could. He spotted one last corpse, probably one that had been far away from the epicentre or shielded somehow, seeing as it was whole. Sighing, Tony bent down once more to inspect the body. There was an envelope sticking out of the woman’s jacket pocket.

How the Hell did a piece of paper survive that?

His curiosity unable to escape him, Tony opened the letter. The handwriting was unsteady, but still legible, as if the person was shaking while they wrote it. There were several tiny circles staining the edges. Teardrops? It was familiar to him somehow.

Tony.

Enough is enough. I can’t keep coming home to see the shell of a man I once called my husband.

I know prison was hard for you. And I know you did it all for me, believe me, I’ll always be in your debt for that.

But I can’t do this anymore.

Watching you turn away every opportunity for work, just because it wasn’t the job you had, drew the line. Your ambition, your drive, one of the reasons I love you, is gone.

I can’t keep coming home to see you passed out on the couch with beer bottles at your feet, miserable and stagnant.

I can’t make love to you when you won’t even look me in the eyes.

I can’t do this.

Don’t bother trying to find me, unless you can prove to me that my husband’s still in there somewhere.

I’m done.

As soon as he read the first few sentences, it all clicked. This was the letter Michelle had written to him, which he found on the kitchen counter the morning after she left.

How could this possibly be here?

His heart felt tight in his chest. There was something so different about reading it in a fully sober and aware mindset. It was almost as if he could hear her reading it to him. Wait. Not ‘as if’. He could hear her voice. Whipping his head around in a daze, he checked to see if she was there. But it was just him, alone in the field, amongst the debris. Michelle seemed to get louder and louder, the breaks and cracks in her voice becoming more noticeable. Tony heard her crying. It was driving him insane. Letting the paper fall to the floor, he placed his hands over his ears, screaming.

“Michelle! I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”

Her voice escalated to the point where it deafened him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he just wanted it to stop.

—

His eyes opened to the interior of a car. It was a bleak day, a rarity for Los Angeles. Scanning his surroundings, he noticed a warehouse in the distance. SWAT vans, LAPD cars, and every other law enforcement agency Tony could think of were rapidly approaching, sirens blaring, tires skidding. He wasn’t alone in the car. Looking to his left, he noticed Emerson, who watched the warehouse intently from the driver’s seat. There was a device of some kind in his lap.

Tony gasped as if he’d been underwater, rapidly gripping the car to steady himself. His ears were ringing, but otherwise, everything was quiet.

Emerson raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Th-the letter…Michelle…” Tony garbled.

“Right. Well if you’re going to act like that, you better prove to me you can finish this.” The detonator was shoved into Tony’s lap again.

Another warehouse? I thought the point of the first explosion was to get most of the corrupt agents in one location? Why would Emerson plan two events?

Nonetheless, Emerson’s threat still held conviction, so Tony allowed his fingers to press the button, he didn’t even have to think about it. His body moved as if separate from his mind. Emerson had shoved the gloves and plastic bag into his hands once more as he suddenly found himself at the explosion site. He couldn’t even remember walking over.

There was an odd sense of familiarity about the items he was finding, and the order in which he was finding them. Cellphones, guns, PDAs, knives. He swore he’d seen them before. The smell of death made him stop and vomit again. Tony felt bilious again, and not just because of the strewn body parts around him. Pushing on, he finished the job, knowing that Emerson and his crew wouldn’t be very pleased if he couldn’t pull himself together soon enough so they could get out of there. After all, they had just blown up a warehouse with a ton of C4. Moving to the final body, and spotting the letter poking out of her pocket, Tony knew he’d seen it before. Trembling, he picked up the paper, and began to read. The first few sentences triggered a wave of nausea, as he wheezed. Michelle’s narration began in his mind once more. In a crazed panic, he tore up the letter, thinking it would stop her voice penetrating his mind. But Michelle’s cries and anguish just increased in volume, consuming his senses. Falling to the ground, he clenched his chest, barely able to breathe.

—

His eyes opened to the interior of a car. It was a bleak day, a rarity for Los Angeles. Scanning his surroundings, he noticed a warehouse in the distance. SWAT vans, LAPD cars, and every other law enforcement agency Tony could think of were rapidly approaching, sirens blaring, tires skidding. He wasn’t alone in the car. Looking to his left, he noticed Emerson, who watched the warehouse intently from the driver’s seat. There was a device of some kind in his lap.

Tony screamed. He desperately tried to open the car door and run away. Run away from whatever this insanity was. But the door wouldn’t budge, despite the handle indicating it was unlocked. Tony’s body was forced to pivot and face Emerson who handed him the detonator, paying no attention to his manic friend. His eyes widened as he noticed the last FBI agent enter the fated warehouse once more. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t watch all twenty-four of those agents lose their lives at his hand again. In an instant, he threw the detonator against the car window. Instead of glass smashing, Tony felt an incredibly jarring sensation as he was transported to the middle of the field, post-explosion. Running his hands through his hair, he shook his head in disbelief and disgust.

Why does this keep happening?

But the longer he stood there, it seemed he would just be made to do Emerson’s bidding anyway. Tony had begun to recall the sequence of objects he was picking up. He even remembered the exact location where his body has physically reacted. Tony dreaded the final corpse, because he knew what was about to begin. The sensory overload that was hearing his dead wife tell her that she didn’t love him anymore. Tony wondered if he could stop it before it could even start. But yet again, whatever forces of nature were responsible for this delirium propelled his hands to pick up the letter.

Tony sank to the floor, shaking, as he yelled. He tried to yell louder than Michelle’s voice, tried to drown her out somehow, but to no avail.

He felt a searing pain in his chest.

—

His eyes opened to the interior of a car. It was a bleak day, a rarity for Los Angeles. Scanning his surroundings, he noticed a warehouse in the distance. SWAT vans, LAPD cars, and every other law enforcement agency Tony could think of were rapidly approaching, sirens blaring, tires skidding. He wasn’t alone in the car. Looking to his left, he noticed Emerson, who watched the warehouse intently from the driver’s seat. There was a device of some kind in his lap.

Tony felt numb and exhausted, moving through the loop once more. He had cried his eyes out, vomited more times than a college student on a bender, and despite having seen it countless times now, was not-at-all desensitised to the carnage that lay at his feet. The carnage that he caused, because he was too scared to go against Emerson’s plan.

He’d tried running away, tried to stop Emerson giving him the detonator, even tried inspecting the bodies in a different order, but it didn’t matter, because Hell would push him back into the routine.

At one point, he’d even tried shooting himself with one of the pistols he’d picked up, but instead his body was just launched straight to Michelle’s letter.

After hearing her sobs once more, Tony sighed, knowing it was all about to begin again.

Until he felt a hand cover his mouth, as the smell of expensive cologne filled his nostrils.

Tony huffed, incredulously out of breath, as his eyes slowly opened to a dim, harsh chamber. An ominous amber glow allowed him to see various weapons scattered about. They ranged from modern tasers, guns, and knives that he could recognise, to more medieval-looking curved blades, swords, and whips. His clothes were tattered and worn, and he felt a frigid breeze across his exposed skin. Tony sat in a metal chair, with his wrists bound behind his back, ankles chained, and mouth gagged. Sweat dripped from his hair, his eyes were bloodshot, and his body ached.

A very familiar stranger waltzed in front of him.

“Wakey-wakey. Welcome to your personal punishment.” He spoke with an exuberant British accent, yanking the gag from his mouth.

Tony surveyed the man in front of him. Tall, wearing an Armani suit, and staring right at him with perceptive, brown eyes. But it couldn’t be.

“Lucifer?” He croaked, as the man nodded in response. “Where the Hell am I?” Tony craned his neck around, still trying to orientate himself.

“What was the third word you just said?”

He shook his head in confusion before his body slumped in realisation. “Hell. I’m in Hell?”

“Indeed you are. And not just by your own accord. In addition to your own guilty conscience, my father himself has decided you deserve to be here. Quite a feat, he’s normally the lenient sort, except when it comes to me.” Lucifer explained.

 Tony stared at him dumbfounded, as he gradually processed the gravity of his circumstances.

Lucifer sighed, beginning to pace around the room, “Allow me to explain. When a deceased human carries unresolved guilt, they are sent to Hell where they must exist in their ‘loop’, a manifestation of this guilt by their soul. If God believes the person was generally wholesome in their time on Earth, then once the person understands that feeling guilty is utterly pointless, they can go straight to Heaven. However, if my father thinks you made terrible life choices, not only are you plagued by your loop, you also get additional punishment and permanent Hell residence. You fall into the latter Mr. Almeida.”

“So…what? I did a few things because I was angry about the murder of my wife and I’m suddenly a sinner?” He scowled at Lucifer.

“Oh grief schmief. Most people drink themselves into oblivion, immerse themselves in drugs, have meaningless sex, you know, the usual. You managed to do all of that and then decided that becoming a terrorist was an acceptable means to an end.” He paused, inhaling, before speaking with a gravelly tone. “You wanted everybody else to suffer the same loss as you, so you could feel better about yourself. Well I’m not-at-all sorry to say, that that makes you by definition, evil.” Lucifer tutted. “It was never supposed to be this way. When Henderson injected you, your Hell loop was partially constructed. At that point, all it consisted of was replaying your drunken arguments with Michelle. But because of everything you’d sacrificed during your lifetime, I was willing to bypass you straight to Limbo where I could see you off to Heaven. But every now and then, there are souls that flow in so full of passion, so energetic, that they’re unstable and respond to the slightest perturbation. If somebody tries to revive them, there’s a chance they can follow the path back to Earth, where their reborn soul is solely consumed by this passion. Sometimes it’s undying love, but in your case, it was sheer hatred. You felt Emerson’s tug as he revived you, so you knocked the Angel of Death’s hand away and alas, you were reborn. Your overwhelming anger was the reason for all of the decisions you made in your second life. The underlying core of your soul, the true Tony Almeida can only be brought back by honest redemption, which isn’t what’s going to happen.”

Tony sat and processed what he’d heard, he’d barely remembered the brief period when he’d died. But he was stubborn, and wasn’t going to admit he regretted anything. “You’re telling me if it was you and Chloe you wouldn’t have done what I did? You would have just let her go?” 

Lucifer stopped in his tracks, he was facing away. “You know damn well I would have done the same. But I’m the Devil, it’s my duty to punish. Not yours.” In one quick motion he grabbed Tony’s throat. “And if you mention her name again, I will annihilate you where you stand. Understood?” Tony spluttered as the hand around his throat was removed. “And, since I’m stuck here indefinitely, I’m going to relish in the satisfaction I get from personally punishing you.”

Tony’s anger had dissuaded into fear at this point. Judging by the array of menacing tools, he figured that this was the physical punishment Lucifer was referring to. 

Lucifer picked up a cat-o’-nine-tails whip, and smiled at his prisoner. Tony gulped. Raising his hand ominously, in one quick motion, the nine knotted segments struck Tony’s chest. He screamed, as an itching sensation spread across his chest. The itches intensified to burns, as the skin broke, ruby stains forming on his shirt. He whipped him again, and again, listening to Tony’s acute cries of pain. Eventually, Lucifer decided the whip had gotten boring. As Tony wheezed, inspecting the lash marks across his body, Lucifer grabbed a taser. Turning the dial up all the way, he jabbed Tony’s neck, as his body seized. 

“You know, it’s funny. Since the day I first stepped into CTU, I’ve kept a close eye on you and the other agents. The way you respond to all the difficult situations thrown at you. To see just how far you have to be pushed before you crumble. What stood out to me in particular were the similarities between you and Jack Bauer. Both of your pregnant wives were murdered, both of you faked your deaths, both of you dealt with substance abuse, and both of you would do absolutely anything for the ones you love.

He bit his lip, shaking his head. “If I had any doubt that I was in Hell, being compared to Jack pretty damn well confirmed it.” Tony snapped. “Well here’s the thing, Lucifer. I’m not Jack Bauer. I can’t magically know how to make the best decision on the spot. I can’t look at the people I love as if they’re expendable!”

“You’re right. You aren’t the same person. You can’t be expected to react the same way, even in similar circumstances. What’s interesting however is the drastic difference in how you both reacted. Quite simply, he imploded, you exploded.”

“At least I didn’t become a junkie, you can’t surely say that was a better way of dealing with things? Tell me Lucifer. What were we supposed to do? What did we need to do in order to get your father’s damn approval?”

“What you both needed was therapy. If I, the Devil himself could suck it up and go dump my celestial-grade problems on a therapist, then so could you. Neither one of you handled things particularly well, but there’s a stark difference between an addiction and serial murder.” 

“Therapy wasn’t going to get her back.” Tony spat.

“BUT KILLING PEOPLE WAS?” Lucifer had grown impatient. “Honestly. Had you just handled things a little less dramatically, you would be in Heaven with her right now. But guess what, instead you’re going to feel pain in places you didn’t even think were possible.” He jabbed Tony with the taser once more, the stench of his burning flesh accompanying the aroma of brimstone. Lucifer grit his teeth, as he stared Tony in the eyes. “You became the very thing you swore to protect your country from. You used all of your career knowledge, the flaws in the systems you helped to build, and exploited them to wreak havoc.”

Tony could barely muster a shallow breath, as his neck hung with fatigue. His eyelids had begun to grow heavy, before he jolted awake once more at the blinding flash of the taser being pressed to his chest.

Lucifer had grown tired of the taser too. Simply tossing it aside, he picked up a handgun. Rotating it in his hand, he gazed at Tony, screwing up his face in thought. “No, gunshots are boring, you know what they feel like.” He threw it to the ground again, instead reaching for a cerated dagger. He twirled it in his hand, before lunging forward and driving it into his prisoner’s lower abdomen, until just the hilt was visible. Blood congealed and began to spread across Tony’s stomach. His  body jerked, as Tony threw his head back, warm tears beginning to stream across his face. Tipping his head forward, he was alarmed at the garnet liquid coating his body, and started violently shaking, desperately attempting to free himself of his restraints.

The perpetrator rolled his eyes, whilst wiping his hands with a cloth. “Calm down. The blood’s only superficial, you can’t die a third time.”

Tony knew the only alternative was going back to the loop. He shuddered, just thinking about seeing it all again, hearing her voice. He tried finding some loophole, some way of telling his brain that none of this was true. That this was just a mind ploy to make sure he was repenting for the sins he committed. But the pain felt so…real. In his mortal life, Tony had been (un)lucky enough to brush with death many times. Countless gunshot wounds, Mandy kidnapping him, Henderson’s injection, prison fights. But Hell just amalgamated the worst aspects of all of these experiences. That was its purpose, he supposed. 

So he tried to wait it out.

For what initially seemed like hours, but then turned into days, Lucifer utilised every weapon imaginable, from sophisticated blades to primitive clubs, psychotic hallucinogens to his bare hands wrapped around his neck. By the end of it, Tony’s body was caked in dried blood, vomit, and ash. Bruises and scars carved into every bare patch of skin. The simple jeans and shirt he wore to start with were completely destroyed. He could hardly breathe.

“Stop…just stop…please. I can’t do this anymore.” He admitted.

Lucifer smiled as he stepped into Tony’s breathing space, barely a bead of sweat nor drop of blood on his forehead.“You want me to stop? You should be thanking me. If you were in the hands of my demons, they’d be doing things far worse to you than what I am now.” He menacingly whispered, raking his fingers up Tony’s thighs towards his hips. Tony swallowed audibly, as he was shocked to understand Lucifer was being gentle with him.

“But I do suppose you’ve been physically tortured for long enough. At least for now. The crème de la crème of your punishment will be ready soon, then I’ll send you back to your loop for eternity.” He walked away, slamming the chamber’s bolted door.

Tony’s breathing had somewhat stabilised. He inspected his messy surroundings. Everything was covered in rust, blood, and ash. Nothing was within reach for him to try and free himself. That would be pointless anyway. If Lucifer or…. a demon caught me, who knows what they’d do? One thing gave him hope though, a small, curved, silver blade with feather detailing lay near his feet. Lucifer hadn’t used this on him, at least Tony didn’t think he had. Despite his physical state, his waistband was still intact. He couldn’t reach it now, but if there was a window of time where he didn’t have the handcuffs on him, the knife could prove useful somehow. In his limited mobility, he managed to at least use the chain of his ankle shackles to flick the knife under his chair.

Meanwhile, Lucifer had paced out to the corridor. Looking upwards, he pressed his hands together, shutting his eyes.

“Lucifer? What do you want?” Remiel responded, annoyed.

“I need you to get somebody from the Silver City back into Limbo.”

“Brother, you know we’re not supposed to move humans around like this.”

“Just temporarily, I’m bringing someone from Hell. Oh, and have Azrael there to watch her baby while she’s gone. I don’t want the person I’m bringing to be anywhere near him.”

“What are you up to Lucifer? Why would you take a deranged soul from Hell?”

“Trust me Remiel, it’s all under control.”

“Fine. Who am I escorting?”

“Michelle Dessler.”

Michelle sat in her living room, rocking Will to sleep, his tiny hand curled around her thumb. She leaned down to kiss him. I could look at him like this forever.

Two figures approached, a slim, stern woman with a walnut complexion, and a shorter girl with glasses and a bob. Michelle recognised the second to be Azrael. 

“Hello Ms. Dessler. I need you to come with me, please leave William with Azrael.” The first woman spoke seriously.

“I don’t understand. Is something wrong?”

Azrael turned to the other woman, hands on her hips. “Remy, you can’t confront humans like that, you’ll scare them.” She turned to face Michelle with her childlike gaze. “Michelle, nothing’s wrong, I’ll put Will in his crib for you. Remy’s just going to take you to Limbo for a little bit, apparently Lucifer needs you for something, but then you’ll be back here before you know it.”

She nodded trustingly. Carefully giving Will to Azrael, she walked out of her home with Remiel, into a familiar, endlessly white space.

—

Lucifer strolled back into the chamber, and began undoing Tony’s restraints, much to his surprise. He’s probably taking me back to the loop. Remembering the knife under the chair, he made sure to feign a stumble as Lucifer undid his handcuffs. It wasn’t much of a feign considering his condition, but as he writhed and moaned on the floor, Tony used his body to obscure himself stuffing the weapon in his waistband. 

“Get up. We don’t have very long. Now follow me.” He tugged Tony off the floor by his bicep, dragging him out the door. Traversing winding hallways of cobblestone, Tony felt heavy and dull. The dreary atmosphere made his blood run cold, his stomach drop.

Suddenly, the bleak surroundings transformed into an infinite expanse of white. In the distance, Tony could see two silhouettes approaching. One was unknown, but as the other drew nearer, his heart stopped. 

—

As she walked through Limbo, somewhere she never thought she’d be again, two tall, dark figures stood out like a sore thumb amongst the swathe of light. Michelle deduced the taller one had to be Lucifer, but she couldn’t place the other’s identity. He was encrusted in ash, and what looked like old blood. His hair was wildly grown out. He had a burdensome aura about him. Amongst the putrid bruises, she met a pair of eyes that she knew all too well.

“Tony?” She quickened her pace as she approached him.

“Michelle?” His voice was weak, as though sandpaper coated the lining of his throat. “I thought I’d never see you again.” He sighed, tears forming in his eyes. They pressed their foreheads together, her arms around his neck. His breathing felt heavy, she could tell he was running on empty. He needed her, leaning forward to kiss her softly as she held him close to her, his body surrendering.

“What happened to you?” She wrinkled her nose at the offensive stench radiating from his body. “You’re supposed to be cleaned up before you go to Heaven.” 

“Actually Ms. Dessler, where you’re going, he can’t follow.” Lucifer said, ominously.

“What?” She asked, confused.

“Tony Almeida belongs in Hell. Forever.”

“How? Th-That’s not fair. He’s not perfect, but he’s a good man, who’s been through a lot. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“Well if you were just referring to the time in which you knew him, I’d agree with you. But the man before you has changed.”

She looked at Tony, who hung his head in shame. “Is this true?” He stayed silent.

“Oh God, honey, what have you done?” Michelle whispered in his ear, as she embraced him again, feeling his body shake.

“I’m sorry Michelle. I’m so, so sorry you have to see me like this.” His voice broke, burying his head in the crook of her neck.

“Lucifer. You’re telling me he’s never going to see Will?” She looked at him austerely.

He sighed. “It’s what he deserves, Michelle.”

“Will?” Tony darted his eyes between Michelle and Lucifer. Michelle grabbed his face, tears welling in her eyes, as she traced circles with her thumbs on his ashy cheeks. “Our son. It’s what the angels named him. He has your skin, m-my eyes, and…” She laughed through her nose. “The most untameable combination of our hair. Honey, he’s perfect.”

Tony’s eyes grew angry, as hot, grey tears streamed down his cheeks. He turned to face Lucifer, staring at him furiously. “Let me see my son.” 

“No. By the power of God you have been banished to Hell for eternity. You shouldn’t even be allowed to see your wife.” The other woman, who’d been silent until now, responded coldly to his demand, glaring at Lucifer.

“Remy, I promise you, this will be over soon.”

Tony felt the weight of the smuggled blade in his waistband. He knew he was running out of time, and that this was his last chance. His mind formulated an idea. A terrible idea. But desperate times call for desperate measures, as he’d come to learn. In one quick motion, he retrieved the dagger with one hand, looping the other arm around Michelle’s throat. Pushing his body to hers from behind, she gasped at the sudden pressure, frantically trying to release herself from his grasp. Tony felt his heart sink as Michelle trembled in his hold. But Lucifer had left him no other choice.

“Let me see him, Lucifer. LET ME SEE MY SON.” He shouted, staring at Lucifer with rage. Remiel’s eyes widened as she prepared to handle the situation, but stopped when Lucifer raised a warning hand.

Lucifer simpered. “You know what would make this image more threatening? If you actually had a knife against her throat.” The hand behind his back moved to reveal the contraband knife playfully twirling between his fingers. Tony looked down to his clenched fist, bewildered. Michelle’s eyes widened as she saw the weapon in Lucifer’s hands. He was going to hold me hostage with…that? What’s gotten into him?

“Mr. Almeida, if you think I’m not intrinsically aware of everything that happens in my own kingdom, then you are sadly mistaken.” Tony wouldn’t budge, even as Lucifer strode towards him. “Tell me, is this what you truly desire? To hold your dear wife hostage, just to prove a point?” As he gazed into Tony’s eyes, Lucifer noticed the wrath fade into puppy-dog-esque sadness. “I-I just want to see him.” Tony’s voice broke. “I don’t want to hurt anybody anymore.” Remiel nodded at Lucifer from behind. As Tony lowered his guard subconsciously, Remiel took the opportunity to knee him in the back, taking Tony to the floor with a thud, as Lucifer grabbed a hyperventilating Michelle, reassuring her.

Dusting herself of the ash, her heavenly glow shining through once more, she looked down at Tony with disappointment. “What the Hell happened…it’s like I don’t know who you are anymore…” Michelle tried to rationalise what just transpired, but she was completely bewildered at what the man she once called her husband had evolved into. “God…you put a knife to my throat! What’s wrong with you?” 

Desperately trying to lift himself up, he was halted by Lucifer’s Louboutin being driven between his shoulder blades with a crack. “Michelle, you don’t understand what they’re doing to me down there. I can’t go back, please.” He pleaded, eyes full of manic.

“I was there too.” She snapped, coldly. Shaking her head in disbelief, she turned away to follow Remiel. “Goodbye Tony.”

As she faded away, Michelle’s mind returned to the bliss of her Heaven loops, the interaction she just experienced disappearing forever.

Tony was lead down through the suffocatingly narrow halls of Hell, feeling Lucifer watch him like a hawk. He knew there was no point in trying anything, Lucifer would do everything in his power to get him back into that loop. But that wouldn’t stop Tony from getting a final word in. He stopped suddenly in his tracks, turning to look up at the taller man.

“How could you do that? How could you let her see me…see me…” He struggled to place his words.

“For who you’ve become?” Lucifer shouted, finishing the sentence. “I must say, that little exchange went far better than I had hoped. All I’d planned to do was reunite you for a bit, then tear you away from her. But your little hostage attempt not only demonstrated to me how much of a terrorist you still are, you even made her cry!” He exclaimed, jubilantly.

“You’d do that to Michelle just to punish me?” 

“Nonsense. Heaven would let her forget that. Hell would make sure you wouldn’t. And don’t try and act all noble. It’s no better than the little speech you gave when you requested to move from solitary.”

“Hey, I meant what I said back there.”

Lucifer sneered. “Yes, because getting those schematics from Ms. Diaz immediately afterwards was definitely going to convince my father you’d changed for the better.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Tony’s breaths became audible, as he filled with fury. Lucifer noticed this, and decided to extract it out of him.

“Every renewed decision you made on Earth was for revenge, to avenge her. You sacrificed everything, your pride, your livelihood, your purity, and now you’ll never see her again.” He snarled, stepping closer to Tony. “If you just had a little faith, and left Wilson’s punishment to me, you wouldn’t be here. Nay, if you weren’t such a stubborn jack-ass the first time you died, everything would have worked out for you.”

Tony scoffed. “So I was supposed to just choose to die a few years earlier when I was given the choice? That’s what you’re trying to tell me.”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” Lucifer spoke as if it couldn’t have been more obvious, looking down on him with scorn. “I agree, my father takes people from this world too early sometimes, but it’s a test of character. And the way you just handled things shows him how weak and pathetic you are.”

“You know, despite being the Devil and all, I didn’t think you were the embodiment of evil like the world made you out to be. But I was wrong, you really are pure evil, aren’t you?” Tony spat at him with disgust. Lucifer halted in his tracks, his eyes flared an ardent crimson. 

“I’m not ‘pure evil’, I punish pure evil. You want to know what pure evil is? Look in the mirror.” Lucifer grit his teeth, seething with rage.

“You son of a bitch!” Tony reached for his shoulders and kneed Lucifer in the stomach. He moaned, caught off-guard, before taking his jacket off and tossing it aside. Lucifer smiled deviously,  “The gloves are off now.” 

The pair began to duel. Despite Tony’s sheer enervation, the rage within him would keep him up and fighting. He threw a few punches, satisfied when he managed to hit Lucifer square in the mouth, but reminded of his deficiency when no blood or teeth fell out. Lucifer hadn’t fought anybody since he unleashed his anger on all the demons who betrayed him upon his return. It had been years in Hell, he was ashamed of his slow reaction time. If Maze were here, she’d be disgusted at my form. Still, he regained his prowess, now blocking more of the human’s kicks and strikes. Tony noticed this, and began to quicken his pace as much as his body physically enabled him. Lucifer toiled again to keep up, now even angrier at himself for his poor timing and lack of rigid technique. He puts up a good fight. Lucifer noted. But he’s no celestial. Not withholding anymore, focusing his mind entirely, he kicked Tony in the solar plexus, sending him flying to the ground with a crack. Winded, but not at all ready to give up, Tony stabilised himself before bolting towards Lucifer, who hardly budged. Grabbing Tony by the chin, he head-butted him, watching blood pour from his now crooked nose.

By now, demons had gathered from nearby loops to watch the show their king was putting on for them. They’d longed to see him this furious, to see this aura of power radiate from him once more. And unlike last time, the fury wasn’t directed at them. Finally, it seemed things were going back to the way they were. Before his trips to Earth became prolonged. Before he’d shown elements of mercy. Before the humans had rubbed off on him. The loyal subjects watched their lord battle this blasphemous and arrogant human. They watched him jab, kick, block with ease. They watched the enemy bleed, contuse, break, but nonetheless he persevered in attempting to win this clash. But the demons knew this human stood no chance against Lucifer Morningstar. The Devil. Still, they anxiously awaited Lucifer’s final move. The throw-down. Surely their king was still capable of destroying a meagre human soul? Maybe he was just dragging it along out of pity for the human? The demons watched him intently.

Cobblestone floors had been destroyed, charcoal columns had crumbled, blood stained the surroundings, but still Tony Almeida would not yield. He would not give up. He would not allow himself to re-enter that torturous loop for eternity. He would not let Lucifer treat him this way, mock him, shame him. Tony Almeida was dead, his wife and child were in another realm, and wherever his other friends and family were, it didn’t matter. He had lost everything, but he would not allow himself to lose this fight. Tony continued to push with every skill in his arsenal. There were no guns, no knives, no protective gear. His Marines combat training and jail time were all he could use. Tony could tell Lucifer wasn’t as powerful as he made himself out to be. After all, if the King of Hell wanted him defeated, he should have been able to knock him out in one punch.

Eventually, Lucifer got his thunder back. Catching an unsuspecting Tony, he seized him by the throat, and slammed him against a still-withstanding pillar. With his height advantage, and utter strength, Tony’s legs dangled, as he choked helplessly, flailing in an attempt to free himself. Lucifer knew that all he had to do was throw Tony to the ground and all of this would be over. He’d be barely conscious, so he could simply drag him by the leg back into his loop. But something in Lucifer hesitated. Is this really right? He was being an arrogant shit, I’ll give him that. And yes he’s a prisoner of Hell, but is this really justice? 

The demons eagerly anticipated Lucifer’s final act. They were enamoured by his beautiful ruby eyes, a sign of his might, his authority. But there was something about them that seemed…troubled? Surely not. Surely the Devil did not feel sympathy? Surely he was not intending on showing mercy? Could it be? Could their King’s time on Earth have softened him? Demons hated humans, as much as any other creation of God, that’s why they enjoy punishing them so. But whoever these humans were that Lucifer had been with, the demons hated them the most. They were the source of his weakness. It disgusted them.

“You’ve gone soft, my King.” Malphas dared to call out, in a mocking tone no less.

Lucifer’s snarls abated. A deafening silence filled the room.

The other demons looked at each other. Lucifer hadn’t retaliated, was it true? 

“Yeah. You should have wiped the floor with that scum already.” Another demon piped up.

The demons jeered, joining in, mocking their fallen, pathetic king.

Forgive me, Mr. Almeida. Not looking Tony in the eyes, Lucifer hurled his squirming body to the floor with a thunderous smash. He howled in pain. Lucifer had not yet turned to face his subjects. Tearing off his white shirt stained with ash and Tony’s blood, he pivoted, now in his full monstrous form. His torso and face were scaly, covered in callous, brick-red skin. Razor-sharp claws protruded from his finger-tips, with complementary fangs from his mouth. Leathery bat-wings extended from his shoulder blades, casting a heavy shadow in the dim firelight. Standing before them in his monstrous glory, he glared at all his insolent subordinates. Many gasped, in both awe and fear. Their king stood before them in all his glory, but he did not look pleased with his victory in the least.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO YOUR KING THIS WAY.” He roared. “I should obliterate you all where you stand for doubting me. Now GO. ALL OF YOU. BACK TO YOUR LOOPS.” His voice was deep and guttural, as the demons wandered off, like dogs with their tails between their legs.

Tony was barely conscious, from behind, all he saw was a bare, crimson, burnt back, with…bat wings? He decided he must have been hallucinating, the fight had done a real number on him after all. The creature’s head then turned towards him. It was hideous yet menacing. Tony’s breaths quickened. He was terrified of the monster before him, what it could do to him, what it would do to him. Is this what Lucifer…really looks like?

As Lucifer turned around, he saw Tony’s crumpled body, staring right at him. He looked petrified. There was nothing he could say to him that would comfort him in anyway. Luckily, his eyes fluttered shut. He would let him rest. His wounds would heal, his bones would reform, he just needed some time. Sighing, Lucifer picked up his shirt and jacket, and flew himself back to his throne. Taking deep breaths, concentrating on the silence around him, he tried to transform himself back into his human physique. But at this moment in particular, he hated himself. He hated himself for prolonging the fight, for letting Tony exhaust himself once more. He hated himself for being so cruel, especially considering it was only because the demons were around. He was so worried about their opinions of him, that if he displayed any sign of change they would disobey him once more, inflicting more destruction on Earth. Earth. Lucifer smiled, as he thought of that place, and his friends. He thought of Chloe. Linda and Charlie. Daniel. Miss Lopez. Maze. Even Amenadiel. Oh, how he missed them. But things had to be this way, at least for now. Opening his eyes, he was relieved to notice the pale complexion of his hands return, fingernails at their short, neat length.

He sat there for a while, watching the gentle influx of souls, as loops constructed themselves. He thought about how every soul has a story. How every decision made in their short lives ultimately lead them here. How it didn’t matter how innocent they were, if they held remorse, they ended up tormenting themselves anyway. 

He thought about how it was his fault.

After some time, Lucifer decided to wander back to the hallway spot, to where Tony lay, half-awake. Lucifer was relieved to see the blood from his wounds had dried, and that his breathing was steady. Tony’s vision was blurry, as he woke to the click of Lucifer’s shoes against the cobblestone floor. He’s probably going to punish me again. He panicked, desperately scrambling to get away from Lucifer, without realising he was in a corner. His back hit the wall behind with a gentle whump. As Lucifer approached him, he noticed the sheer timidity in Tony’s eyes. It was almost child-like.

“Please…please no more.” He begged, recoiling in fright.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” Lucifer spoke softly, seating himself on the cold floor next to Tony, who looked at him, slightly skeptical. “Please understand, the only reason I was that vicious before was because the demons were nearby. They need to be shown who’s in charge, and that their king is not weak.”

Tony noted how discomfited he sounded. It’s almost like he’s more scared of them than they are of him.

“If you’re their king, why do you need to prove yourself to them? Why don’t they respect your authority?”

He sighed, looking down at the floor. “Because the last time I showed compassion, bad, bad things happened. And it terrifies me to think they might happen again.” His voice faltered.

At this point, Tony trusted that Lucifer wasn’t going to hurt him. Whatever it was, it seems to be really eating him up inside.

“You want to talk about it? You’ve barely made contact with another sane human for months. What have you got to lose?” He offered, meeting Lucifer’s eyes.

“Very well.” Lucifer suspired. “Do you recall hearing of a massacre at the Mayan?”

Tony squinted, trying to grasp how long it had been exactly since he’d died. He remembers being in prison, hearing on the news about a huge stabbing. LAPD, FBI, Homeland Security, even CTU, had been scratching their heads trying to understand how over a hundred corpses had been transported from seemingly random murder sites. He never found out what conclusion they’d come to, he suspected they never did.

“Yeah, something about a mass stabbing, but several crime scenes?”

“That was the product of a chain reaction of demons disobeying me. Centuries ago, I strictly forbade the possession of corpses. But without me there to enforce that rule, and with the assistance of one stupidly naïve human, one demon decided to possess one recently deceased human, who killed another human, that was possessed by another demon, and so forth.” Lucifer explained, gravely.

Tony’s jaw dropped. “Christ.” He uttered under his breath, nauseated by the concept.

“Well he was no help!” Lucifer declared, throwing his hands up. “The point is, there are very few things that scare me, Mr. Almeida. But a hoard of rebellious demons threatening the lives of people I care about is definitely up there. It’s the reason why I’m in Hell until further notice, to make sure they don’t step out of line again. So I’m truly sorry if I went a little overboard back there.”

“Hey, I’m the one who started the fight, I can’t exactly blame you.” Tony admitted.

“That you did.” Lucifer noted.

They sat in silence for a few moments, at some mutual level of sympathy for each other.

Tony let out a long sigh, “God, I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I?”

Lucifer snickered. “I’m not him, but yes. Yes you have.” Lucifer noticed how rueful the man looked. 

“Look. I know what I did was wrong. I’m not a psychopath.” Tony admitted.

“Well after suffering through your loop, it’s logical you’d feel that way. But I know you didn’t regret it at the time. It had to take this manifestation of your own self-loathing to get you to realise.” 

Looking away, Tony grumbled, knowing Lucifer was right. “Yeah…it felt right at the time, I won’t deny that. It wasn’t until I was in solitary that I actually began to feel bad about it. I hated myself, because I knew if Michelle were alive, she would have hated me too. And I hate myself now because I know had it been the other way around, Michelle wouldn’t have handled things the way I did. She would have gone to a therapist, she would have devoted herself to helping people so they wouldn’t feel the same way she did. All those days in that dark, empty room, I wondered if she was ever able to see the things I’d done, if she could forgive me, if she still loved me.” He lamented.

“For the sake of those in Heaven, they’re not privy to what happens on Earth after their death. As much as you deserved to have her spit on you from above in absolute disgust, I would never take Michelle to Limbo just to show her what you’d done. But your own actions yielded the same result anyway.”

Tony shuddered, scolding himself, quite frankly, repulsed at how easily he’d been willing to hold a knife to her throat. He brushed the thought away, instead focusing on something that’d been nagging at him for a while. “Lucifer. Exactly how long has it been? Since I,” Tony paused, before speaking with heavy acceptance. “Died?” He’d been wondering that since he left the chamber. With no clocks, no sunlight, it was hard to tell how long Lucifer had punished him for. Not to mention the infinite and timeless sensation of the loop before that.

“Well, time progresses differently down here. It’s probably felt like over a week here, but on Earth it’s been a few hours.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “So wait, it’s only been a few hours since I died, and it’s felt like days. The massacre at the Mayan was months ago, you’re telling me it’s been, what, years for you?”

He nodded gravely. “Yes. I suppose you’re right. Nearly a decade here translates to a little over a year on Earth.”

Tony was in absolute disbelief. Could it be that he went ballistic because he hasn’t seen anybody he knows in…years? Maybe he just got excited about punishing me because it meant talking to somebody he knew? He felt sympathy for the man. Angel, rather. Even though he seemed to enjoy punishing people, Tony was sure he’d much rather be on Earth working at the LAPD with Chloe. They certainly seemed to have a connection. At least, Tony had gathered that from their few interactions.

“Look. I get why I’m down here now. I know I deserve it. But can you at least give me the comfort of telling me that all the terrorists I’ve ever fought to stop are here too?” 

Lucifer nodded, a smirk creeping across his face. After all, he could certainly understand this man’s desire to see evil punished. “Fire away.”

“Nina Myers?”

“You were there when I interrogated her, what do you think?”

Tony snickered, remembering how wimpish she’d looked that day, which now felt like an eternity ago.

“Vladimir Bierko?”

“Yep.”

“Christopher Henderson?”

“Yep.”

“Stephen Saunders?”

Lucifer noted an extra gruffness in Tony’s voice, and flashed him a satisfied grin. “Currently watching his daughter die of the Cordilla virus over and over again.”

“Habib Marwan?”

“Yep.”

“Benjamin Juma?”

“He committed genocide, I’m fairly sure that’s indisputably regarded as immoral.”

Tony continued to list every terrorist he could think of. Every single person who’d screwed him or the people he cared about over. It felt incredibly cathartic. He was so enthralled by vocalising his hatred, and so relieved to know that every damn one of them was finally getting what they deserved, he figured ‘why stop with those who are already gone?’

“He’s not dead yet, but Charles Logan?”

“Oh, I’m looking forward to punishing that pathetic loser you Americans called a president.”

Lucifer noticed that Tony had calmed down from his emotional high and now just appeared…content. Content as though he’d accepted his fate, that he was to stay in his loop for eternity.

At least he won’t put up a fight when I take him back, I’ll feel better about leaving him on a peaceful note.

“Mr. Almeida, before I take you back, just know this. Please don’t think I lack sympathy for what happened to you. You have no idea how shocked I was when I discovered Michelle had died, and pregnant no less.” He expressed sympathetically.

“I appreciate that. Thank you.” He nodded with endearing eyes. “That reminds me. What did she mean when she said ‘I was there too’? You mean to tell me Michelle of all people, was down here?” Tony’s tone was slightly hostile.

Lucifer acknowledged his claim. “She was a classic example of somebody so pure, she was detrimental to herself. She had a loop in here temporarily, of all things, she felt guilty about being kidnapped by Stephen Saunders, who you now know is suffering monumentally. I happened to be down here for a brief visit, so with a bit of a nudge from me, Michelle was purposeful enough to realise that feeling guilty was unnecessary, so her loop was destroyed and off to Heaven she went.”

Tony smiled, realising yet again just how strong she was. Remembering that her ambition and passion was what made Michelle…Michelle. That it’s one of the biggest reasons he loves her. He hated to think of her suffering needlessly down here. Or anybody for that matter. He understood why he deserved to be here, but the idea of somebody suffering through a Hell loop, simply because of their kindness and selflessness, felt…wrong. It just didn’t seem fair.

“Does it bother you? That people are down here unnecessarily?” He asked, more credence in voice now than ever before.

Lucifer closed his eyes for a moment, before he spoke regretfully, as dejected as he’d described the massacre earlier. “It does. I suppose because it’s my fault.” His words carried tremendous weight. “I’m the reason humans have free will. I though it’d be a fun way to screw with my dad, screw with his little DIY project he called humanity. All I wanted was for them to have the ability to make their own choices. To act on their desires. But when he discovered what I did, he was angry. Angrier than I’d ever seen him. My little prank got me kicked out of Heaven. ‘You wanted to let humans do as they please? Then you’re responsible for punishing them after I decide if they’ve made the right choices.’ Were his exact words. At first I thought it’d be quite satisfying, punishing evil people, giving them what they deserve. But then, one by one, people who were clearly innocent came in, and tortured themselves with their own memories. Their own imagination. It was then on, that I realised the consequences of my actions.”

Tony had never seen him look so…raw. So sorry. So human. 

“Lucifer. I’m aware I’m in no position to be bargaining with you right now, but just hear me out.”

Intrigued, Lucifer turned to face him, now slightly numb from sitting on the cold ground.

“I’m listening.”

“You said you gave Michelle a ‘nudge’ to break her loop, right? What if I did that for some of the innocent people down here? If I helped them destroy their loops, so they can go to Heaven, would you…” He swallowed. “Would you let me hold my son? Even just for a few minutes, that’s all I ask.” 

Lucifer hummed in thought. Quite ballsy of him, but I suppose he has a point. I can’t constantly go around nudging souls, and while he’d never even dream of getting every virtuous soul out, it would certainly give me some peace of mind if there were a few less of them down here.

“I’ll one-up you. If you can successfully free every innocent soul that you’re somehow responsible for killing,, I’ll let you go to Heaven. Permanently.”

Tony was dumbfounded. “You’re serious?” His voice cracked.

“I’m a Devil of my word, I promise you I will hold up my end of the bargain. But I don’t think you realise the severity of what you’re offering. You see, every loop is created by the soul itself, Hell just gives it physical manifestation. If you enter somebody else’s loop, you would effectively be entering their soul. You would risk being sucked in to feeling their guilt, their pain, their anguish. The only reason I’ve been okay most of the time is eons of practice. It would take extreme stubbornness to resist the pull, but then again you are.” Lucifer stood up, offering a hand to help Tony to his feet.

“If you’re giving me the chance to see Michelle and Will, I will do everything in my power to make that happen. But hang on, you said God’s the one who decided I should be here. Won’t sending me to Heaven make him, I don’t know, mad?”

“At me? He’s already pretty pissed at me, but to that I say he can stick it up his ass. But you? No. In fact if you succeed and get all the innocent souls you killed back into Heaven where they belong, he’ll be quite pleased with you I imagine.”

“Good to know I’m not incurring God’s wrath then.” Tony laughed nervously.

“Then it’s settled. Now, just give me a moment to figure out where you need to go.” He turned away, pressing his hands in a prayer position. Tony watched him anxiously, wondering just how many people he’d killed throughout his lifetime.

“Well according to Azrael, you killed a total of 707 people in your time on Earth. 280 of them were wicked so you needn’t bother with them, 30 of them were innocent people who went straight to Heaven, 92 of them were innocent people with remorse who’ve managed to free themselves. So that leaves 305 innocent people left to free.” He calculated non-chalantly.

”Three hundred? Jesus Christ.”

“And five. Again, he’s not going to be of any use here. Right, you grew up Catholic, so these should be familiar to you.” Mysteriously, he tossed him a long chain threaded with dull, jade beads. They were seemingly countless, the only distinguishing factor being a small, metal cross at the centre.

Rosary beads? Tony registered.

“There are 305 beads on here. The colour intensity represents the burden of each one. As you free each soul, their new-found purity will cause their respective bead to shine, then you’ll be automatically progressed to another, more pained loop. You will have one chance. If at any time, you feel it’s too much to bear, simply hold the cross to your heart, and you’ll be transported back to your loop forever.”

Tony whistled audibly as he took in Lucifer’s instructions.

“Well, Mr. Almeida. Good luck.”

He chuckled in response. “Thanks.”

—

Tony blinked and found himself standing in a small, dirty apartment. Rain pattered loudly against the window. He could hear arguing. 

“John, this is over! I can’t keep doing this with you. You never listen to a word I say!”

“Diana, wait! I love you so much, don’t let me leave, please!” 

An arguing couple walked through the living room, the woman driving the man out the door. He attempted to resist, but her stance was strong enough to force him out, as he stumbled onto the entrance steps. Seems they haven’t noticed me.

The man was wearing a jacket with FBI insignia and holding a briefcase. Must be on his way to work. Wait. FBI?

“Diana, please!” 

She slammed the door in his face. Tony could see through a glass pane that he was crying uncontrollably. Diana had turned around and walked back through the hallway. Tony opened the front door and stepped out, taking a good look at him. Middle-aged, typical office attire, medium build. Your average married Joe.

“You’ve gotta help me man, I keep seeing the same stuff over and over again. I can’t take it anymore! It’s like…it’s like…” John fretted.

“A loop?” Tony completed.

“Yes! Yes! That’s it! It’s a loop!”

“When does it normally end?”

“Well…normally I get in the car, get a call from work to go to some warehouse, I hear a crash, and then it resets.”

Tony’s stomach lurched. He’d forgotten just how related he was to this man. He died right after this. Because of me.

“I knew I’d had this conversation with Diana before. We were arguing about God-knows-what. I remember I called her a bitch and slammed the door. But…then I never saw her again. So when this thing started up, I thought I’d make things right, I tried to tell her how much I love her and how much she means to me. I thought if I acted like I wasn’t upset at her, then it’d stop. But that didn’t work!”

Tony sighed, not only did he feel awkward talking to somebody who only ended up in Hell because of him, he could feel the man’s desolation within his core. The pressure in his chest was increasing, if Tony didn’t do something soon to stop John from feeling guilty, he didn’t see how much more of this he could take. He took a deep breath, and watched as John had mechanically fallen into the loop’s routine and gone to his car. Suddenly, Tony found himself standing in the living room corner, just as before, hearing the start of the conversation. Slipping out through the door, he grabbed John by the shoulders, to keep him from going anywhere.

“Look. I don’t know how to tell you this. But you’re dead. The reason why this is the last conversation you remember having with your wife, is because this was the last conversation you had with your wife. You died where the loop stopped. And right now, you’re in Hell because you feel guilty about leaving things on bad terms. But I’m here to tell you, it doesn’t have to be this way. Just understand that you couldn’t possibly have known this, so there’s no reason to feel guilty.” Tony explained, watching the man’s eyes widen in shock.

“I-I’m dead? Like, dead?” His voice was barely a whisper. Tony could hardly look at him directly. “How could my final words to my wife been so awful? God, if only I’d known, I would have told her ‘I love you’ right then and there.” John was beside himself. Tony felt a pang, hearing him discuss what he wish he told his wife. After all, he’d spent a good part of his life wishing the same thing. He at least hadn’t argued with Michelle before she died, but telling her not to go to CTU wasn’t exactly how he wanted to leave things. If it wasn’t for the visual guilt of the warehouse explosion, and his guilt for driving Michelle away, Tony wouldn’t have been surprised to see that conversation replaying in his loop instead. Holding her lifeless body in his arms, before the secondary explosion. It sent chills down his spine just thinking about it. The twinge in his heart exacerbated.

“You couldn’t have known. That’s why you can’t keep feeling like this. You can’t sit here regretting something that’s over. You wanna stop this? Accept that things are the way they are, and you’ll be able to go to Heaven. And then one day, your wife will be there with you.” 

“How do you know all this? Are you some kind of angel?”

Tony shook his head. “No. I’m just another guy who’s in Hell, except I don’t have the privilege to go to Heaven the way you do. That’s why I’m begging you, just move with the loop, argue with her like you did on the day you died, and I promise you, this will all be over.”

John was teary now, although it was hard to tell with the rain. By now, both of them were dripping wet, Tony could feel his hair in his eyes. John’s periwinkle shirt was drenched. He walked to his car, driving off. Tony felt himself moved by the loop.

John and Diana paced through the living room once more. “I don’t care Diana! This doesn’t matter! What’s happened is over now. I’m dead! It doesn’t matter what I say to you, just get me out of here!” 

Tony felt the ground tremor. The walls of the house began to cave in, ‘Diana’ ran out the door. John was panting, laughing with relief, as he found himself standing amongst the rubble. Tony fished the rosary beads from his pocket. He watched one slowly brighten, its pale green hue beaming in the dullness of Hell.

One down, 304 to go. 

Lucifer was right about the loops becoming progressively difficult (and why wouldn’t he be?) The next few were reasonably simple, generally people’s last regrets before dying, forgetting to feed pets, some more cases of not saying ‘I love you’, leaving things with people on bad terms. But eventually, the topics became heavier, and there was more intensity, less pliability with the loops. It indicated that the guilt had been festering in their soul for years, eating them alive as they continued to suppress it, only for it to explode out of them upon their death. Battling the initial physical pain was always the worst. Tony would usually find himself sitting, clutching at his chest, as if he were having a heart attack, for several sequences, before he could form an understanding of the loop.

Tony encountered people who battled addictions, people who alienated themselves from their family and friends, people who didn’t realise they had been bullies once upon a time, fairly common social and mental occurrences. Then things got serious. People who testified falsely in court, resulting in an innocent’s conviction, people who lied to protect those they love, people who had to commit crimes under duress. It gave him perspective. He understood the complexity of human life. He noted the similarities and differences between his life and the lives of these souls. He recognised why they were considered innocent, and he was not. Tony realised that the difference was immediate justification. A person who hurt somebody else because there was a gun at their back was forgiven. He had killed people years after Michelle’s death, that was not forgiven.

At first, his main driving factor for battling these loops was the knowledge that he would be reunited with his family once he succeeded. But he grew attached to the souls, it lifted his spirits every time they ran out triumphantly, despite the physical chaos of the crumbling loop. It wreaked havoc on his own soul though. Every new loop often required several iterations for Tony to not only re-orientate and detach himself from feeling tormented, but also to understand the soul’s personality, their essence. To understand not just what they’re feeling guilty about, but why. When he found the justifying factor, the reasoning in God’s plan, he watched the owner of the loop scream their epiphanies at the top of their lungs. That gave him hope, reminded him of his purpose, and allowed him to keep carrying on.

Loop #304 was a close call. A man attacked on his balcony who accidentally pushed his assailant off, killing him. It was hard to watch this poor man, Dylan his name was, tearfully cycling through, breaking into hysterics as the criminal stumbled, helplessly flailing over the railing to his death six floors below. The sickening crunch of his spine, and the pool of blood spreading beneath him burned into Tony’s mind. It was enough to make Tony think about holding the cross to his chest. He’d toyed with it momentarily. But he’d come this far, so Tony quickly shoved it back into his pocket. Eventually, he was able to explain to Dylan, that had he not pushed him off, he would have surely died, and the criminal would have been executed upon his arrest anyway. This allowed Dylan to escape, by jumping off the balcony with the man, destroying the loop.

So after battling #304, Tony was anxious to see how much worse #305 could be. Dylan had killed a man, but it was justifiable self-defence, once he understood that, he got over it. How could somebody commit a sin worse than murder and still be validated in the eyes of God?

He watched the penultimate jade bead shine. The whole chain was divinely bright, Tony was pleased with the reminder of his work.

Blinking, he realised he was standing in the middle of what looked like a teenage girl’s bedroom. Soft, blush fairy lights illuminated the room, with darkness from the window indicating it was night-time. Posters and Polaroids lined the walls. A clean, white desk laden with stationery and makeup was on one side, a queen bed with a floral duvet on the other. The presumed owner of the bedroom sat on said bed, the blue glow of her laptop screen highlighting her face. She looked maybe fourteen. She must be a demon, the loop owner’s probably on their way. Tony knew by now that watching the loop unfold uninterrupted was the best way to formulate a plan. Standing in the corner, so as not to arouse suspicion, he noticed the girl’s mindless expression transform into that of sheer terror, as loud, uneven footsteps sounded. Her door flung open, Tony immediately recognised the miasma of scotch, as a ginger-haired man in his forties stumbled in. He was a mess, with long, greasy hair, a stained plaid shirt, and holes in his jeans. There was a large bulge in his back pocket.

Immediately, she burst into tears, as he approached her, a look of hunger in his eyes. He threw her laptop to the floor, and climbed onto the bed. The girl kicked and screamed, trying to wrestle the larger man off her, but to no avail. Tony didn’t want to accept it, but he knew what was going to occur. The drunken bastard tore her pink pyjama shorts off with meaty, filthy hands. He couldn’t bear to watch anymore. Closing his eyes didn’t ease the situation, as her shrieks of protest filled his ears. It was sickening, this would make anybody upset, but by being in the loop, every ounce of pain she felt translated into a stake through Tony’s heart. Half-opening his eyes,  he noticed a waste-paper basket near the door and bent down to retch. His stomach was empty, the acid burned his throat, as he dry-heaved into the bin, still listening to the girl’s torture. Then he heard the familiar bang of a gunshot. Whipping his head around, he saw the girl wide-eyed, crimson splashes across her face, gripping a Glock in her hands, as the perpetrator slumped forward to the floor, blood spreading beneath him onto the carpet.

“I…I killed him. Oh my God, how could I…what’s wrong with me?! Why can’t I stop this?” She stuttered.

Oh my God. The loop isn’t his, it’s…hers? Why the fuck is a teenage girl here? Does God not care that a child is suffering in Hell?

“Unfortunately, she’s at the age where my father can’t do much to stop this. What drags a soul here is the weight of their guilt. Children are generally pure, so Azrael can easily escort them to the Silver City. But as they get older, develop into their true selves as they navigate their teen years, and especially if they’ve experienced trauma, then they can carry enough tonnage to end up in Hell. Becky is particularly strong-willed, that's what's keeping her here. You didn’t kill her directly, she died as a result of your carelessness in a high speed chase. She died right after the events of the loop, running out to the road in a panic.” A familiar British voice echoed in his mind.

You mean you’ve been able to talk to me this whole time? 

“Indeed. But the deal was you free the 305 souls, I shouldn’t be interfering at all. I just wanted to answer your question about the child.”

He shook his head in disbelief. Hearing Lucifer’s voice evoked Tony of his purpose. All he had to do was convince this girl, Becky, that she didn’t mean to kill this scoundrel, but also that she had every right to. Can’t be that bad, if I did it for Dylan, it can’t be too much harder for her, right?

The loop started up again. Tony had to buy time to talk to the girl before the demon walked in. Locking the bedroom door, he cautiously approached her.

“You’re Becky, right?”

She looked at him bewildered, “Yeah, why? Who are you? What are you doing in my house?”

“That’s not important right now. Listen, who attacked you before? How did he get in here? Aren’t your parents home?”

Becky shook her head. “My mom’s dead, that guy before was my step-dad Randall. He’s been like this ever since she died. Please don’t let him hurt me again, please, I’m begging you.” Her green eyes implored. She looked exhausted, having been physically assaulted over, and over again.

Before Tony could explain where she was, he heard uneven footsteps and a rumble at the door, before it slammed open once more. He tried to stand in Randall’s way, but was pushed to the ground with a thud. Quickly standing up, he tried to throw the man’s weight off her, but his attempts were fruitless. He recognised the sound of fabric ripping, and felt his stomach churn, knowing what was about to transpire again. All Tony could do was shut his eyes and cover his ears. Clearly she was so set in her guilt that her loop lacked flexibility. When he heard the gunshot again, he ran over and grabbed Becky by the shoulders. Tony could feel her trembling.

“Sweetheart, you did what you had to, he was hurting you and it was wrong.” He looked her in the eyes, beseechingly.

“B-but he wasn’t going to kill me, he didn’t deserve to die! He was my step-father, he loved me. A-and I shot him! That makes me a murderer, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” She cried audibly, blabbering on about her guilt.

“Becky, listen to me!’ He raised his voice, alarming her, before he calmed himself. “You’re not here because you’ve done anything wrong. In fact you shouldn’t be here at all, you should be in Heaven, with your mom. The only reason you’re going through this over and over again, is because you think you need to be here.”

“You still haven’t told me who you are, why should I believe you?” 

Strong-willed was an accurate description, I’ll give him that.

He sighed. “My name is Tony Almeida. I’m dead too. I’m here to help you break out of this cycle so you can go to Heaven where you belong. Look, just trust me, okay? I can’t actually destroy the loop for you, the only way for you to get out is for you to accept that what you did was reasonable given the circumstances you were in. I will try my damn hardest to stop him from attacking you again, but I know I’m powerless. It’s up to you. You need to believe that you don’t deserve to be here.”

Her breathing steadied, as she sniffled. Before she could respond, Tony felt himself transported to the centre of the room, as the loop restarted. Tony had accepted that there wasn’t ever going to be enough spare time to convince Becky of her innocence. He would just have to show her. Maybe I’ll try stalling the father? If she’s at least started trying to stop feeling guilty, maybe I’ll be able to manipulate it more. 

Once again, Randall staggered into the bedroom. Tony made sure to stand near the door, pushing his hands into the man’s broad shoulders. 

“Listen, Randall! You can’t do this. You can’t hurt her like this. Look I get what you’re going throu-“

“How could you possibly know what I’m going through?” Randall spoke with a drunken slur. Tony shuddered, thinking of his own alcoholic spiral after prison (the first time). He thought about how easily things could have gone the other way, how he could have been just as vile, and taken advantage of Michelle the way Randall did of Becky. Pushing her away instead of talking about his feelings was wrong, he definitely knew that now. But he was relieved he didn’t take this path. The path of hurting the people that care about you so deeply, they won’t go anywhere no matter what you did to them. Randall attempted to shove past, but Tony was able to stand his ground. Good. She must be processing her feelings.

“I lost my wife too. She was killed right in front of my eyes. And I know that this probably makes you feel better somehow. Somehow, when you see other people suffering, it reminds you that you’re not alone. But you can’t be the reason for that. You don’t have the right to hurt other people, especially the people closest to you, just because you’re hurting. If it wasn’t for this, Becky would never have ran out onto the road and died.” He fought back tears. “SHE WOULD STILL BE ALIVE GOD DAMN IT.” Tony let out a shaky exhale. “I have spent the past God-knows-how-long down here, realising that. There is absolutely no excuse for how much of a monster I became after she died.”

“How could you possibly know what I’m going through?” Randall repeated automatically. It was a reminder for Tony that ‘Randall’ was a demon. One component of a figment of this girl’s soul. That he’d just confessed the very core of his own blackened psyche to nobody. But God, had it felt good. I guess if I had gone to therapy, then I probably would have felt like this a long time ago. 

But the momentary distraction of his emotional eureka gave Randall an opportunity to force Tony out of his way, just as before. He panicked. Why is she still feeling guilty? I thought she’d understand now.

Tony noticed the gun in Randall’s pocket. Up until now, in every other loop, the owner had been the one to shift the path such that the loop broke. Tony had only given advice, not physically interfered. But he knew he had to try something, anything. Yanking the Glock out, he attempted to shoot Randall in the back. The bullets seemed to disintegrate upon contact with the demon. It was almost like he was immune. I don’t understand. Becky and I are both human, I’ve entered her soul, I should have the same capabilities as her.

— 

Lucifer had kept to observing the loop from a distance, just as he’d done with every other that Tony was ordered to assist with. He noticed something was off about this loop. Of course, he knew full well that it wouldn’t be easy for him to break through. After all, this was the deciding factor in whether he’d be allowed to advance to Heaven. Lucifer was remarkably impressed with Tony’s efforts, and certainly relieved at the idea of innocent souls going where they belong. He was enough of a stubborn ass after all. But Lucifer knew Tony had done everything right with Becky’s loop. Being a teenager, and given the gravity of her loop, she wouldn’t be directly swayed by his counselling. What Tony told the demon should have been enough for Becky to realise that what she did doesn’t make her evil. He shouldn’t have needed to try shooting at him, the loop should have been broken.

Which demon is assigned to this loop? He mentally asked Hell. Hell revealed the face of Randall to Lucifer. It was Malphas. Malphas who’d sworn he wasn’t part of the congregation of demons that had disobeyed him and gone to Earth. Malphas who had generally proven himself to be a loyal servant. Malphas who dared call him soft before. Malphas the lying scumbag. Lucifer knew he couldn’t pull him out of the loop, it would risk shattering Becky’s soul. He had to help Tony somehow. But he couldn’t communicate again, otherwise dear old dad wouldn’t let him uphold his end of the deal.

—

Tony heard a faint ding behind him. Turning around instinctively, he saw a curved blade with familiar inscriptions on the carpet. This wasn’t here before. Is this meant for me? As Becky started to howl again, Tony didn’t have time to think. Grabbing the knife, he plunged it into the demon’s back. Its metallic screech was deafening. Deep, plum blood spurted from the wound. Randall’s red hair and filthy clothes shifted, revealing a grotesque face of sinew, jarringly sharp bones, and charred flesh. Tony stumbled backwards, startled by the transformation. The foul sallowness of the demon’s eyeballs leered at Tony. He lunged towards him with a snarl, digging claws into Tony’s chest. Tony hollered not only at the laceration, but also the sting of what felt like acid, mixing into his blood. Becky was frantic, she had to help Tony somehow. She had to save him from the villain that tortured her.

Suddenly, a low rumble sounded, as the walls and ceiling of Becky’s bedroom shook, collapsing into rubble. Her loop’s falling apart! 

“Becky, go! Now!” He choked.

“I’m not leaving without you, I can’t let him kill you!”

“This is all in your head, I’ll be fine.” He lied, knowing full well the demon was autonomous and perfectly capable of hurting him. “Just go!”

She looked at him worried, before shaking her head and turning to run out the door.

Tony could hardly breathe with the weight of the demon on top of him, and the intense pain across his chest. He was helpless. And after processing the loops of 305 innocent souls, his own had taken quite the toll. He felt weak, like he was dying (again). His vision was fading, his hearing was muffled. Suddenly, the weight was lifted off his chest, he felt light, he felt free. Tony’s eyes closed. The last thing he saw was a chain of beads, now entirely glowing.

—

Lucifer flew himself to Becky’s loop as fast as he could. Barging through what remained of the door, he saw Malphas relentlessly clawing at Tony. Throwing him off with ease, Lucifer yanked the knife from his back and drove it through his chest. Hell-forged steel, don’t fail me now. Disgusting demon blood sprayed everywhere, as Malphas’ growls subsided. He fell with a heavy thud to the stone floor of Hell, before his body disintegrated. 

He panicked, running over to the barely conscious Tony. His soul was intact, but barely. He’d taken quite a beating, any more of Malphas, and he wouldn’t have made it. His soul was on the precipice of disappearing forever. Amongst the dark debris, a white light shone brightly above the rest. Plucking a crisp feather from his body, Lucifer held it over Tony’s chest, smiling with relief as the wounds began to close.

Tony’s eyes opened to a familiar expanse of white. Looking down, he noticed his clothes were fresh, his skin unmarked. He felt like himself again. Lucifer walked towards him with a smile, standing next to a small woman with a dark bob and large glasses framing her round face. 

“You know, when I accepted this deal, I really didn’t know if it was in you. I was so certain all the compassion that was once in you had completely faded. That you’d maybe free a handful of souls before becoming too drained to progress. But you managed to motivate yourself so much, you pushed through. And that, is genuine redemption. You truly love this woman, don’t you?” 

Tony looked wistful, his voice was soft. “I do. I really, really do.”

“Speaking of your wife, it seems you and her both have a knack for kicking demon ass, although in her case the demon looked a lot like you, not sure what that implies.” He laughed. Tony chuckled, thinking of the strange image that was Michelle kicking his butt. 

“Malphas wasn’t meant to keep pushing on like that, it’s a relief you were able to hold him down for long enough.”

“Well, it was the last loop, I wasn’t going to give in that easily.”

“He won’t be doing anything of the sort again, I can assure you. Anyways, I’ve kept you here long enough, Azrael will take you to Heaven now.” He gestured to the woman, who smiled trustingly. Tony took her hand and began to walk.

“Lucifer, wait!” He called, turning to face him again. “Thank you. For everything. I really don’t know how I managed to get this lucky, but I know you’re the reason for most of it.”

“You’ve proven your repentance, not many people would willingly risk being sucked into somebody else’s soul, let alone several dozen.” He looked endearingly at Tony, who avoided eye contact sheepishly. Lucifer could tell Tony was holding something back from him. “Is there something you wanted to say?”

Tony hesitated, trying to find his words. “I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you, I didn’t think you’d want to hear it but, uh, Chloe saw me in prison. I asked her about you, I guess I realise now why she couldn’t say much. But for what it’s worth, I really hope you guys can work something out. She cares about you an awful lot.” He noticed Lucifer’s expression shift. His eyes lit up at the sound of her name, it awakened something in him. He looked…happy. But also nostalgic, as if Chloe Decker was a figure from a past life. Wth nearly ten years in Hell, Tony guessed it had certainly been long enough to feel that way. 

Lucifer laughed through his nose, “I hope so too.”

—

He opened his eyes to a plain ceiling, illuminated by a dawning sunshine. Tony was lying in a king bed, he felt the comforting scratch of linen sheets across his skin. He heard the sounds of gentle breathing and birds chirping. Turning to his right, he saw a familiar head of curly hair. God I’ve missed waking up next to you. Carefully turning so as not to wake her, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet feeling plush carpet beneath. Looking around, he noticed the generous size of the room. There was a vanity, a huge closet, and ridiculous floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing a secluded, rocky beach. It wasn’t the house he remembered living in. Somehow though, he recognised it. Then it hit him. He almost laughed aloud. The house on Fawn Avenue? The house Tony was convinced would forever remain a fantasy, a crappy print-out photo messily tacked to the office pinboard they’d once shared.

But what stood out to him most of all, was the bassinet at the centre of the room. Tony walked over cautiously, trying not to make a sound. His heart was racing at a thousand miles per minute. He felt warmth flood through his body, as he gazed at the wonder before him. Perfect was right. Will’s skin was a light copper, much like Tony’s when he was younger and out in the sun more often, not cooped up in an office. His array of dark, curled locks stood out against the lemon-coloured sheet beneath him. Yep, he’s ours. The baby’s chest rose and fell softly. He began to wriggle, his tiny arms outstretched. As Will’s eyes opened, Tony felt tears run down his cheeks. He gasped, noticing the beautiful pair of chocolate eyes staring at him. Just like hers. Will began to gurgle softly, stretching his grabbing hands towards his father. Slowly, he lifted his child into his arms for the first time, rocking him gently.

—

Michelle’s eyes opened again to another loop. She was in bed, watching as daylight crept through the windows. The sound of her baby’s voice made her smile instinctively. Pulling the covers off her, she noticed creases in the sheets, as if somebody else had been in the bed. Despite every loop in Heaven being designed in such a way that every cycle still felt like the first time, she maintained memories of locations, people, events. There was something a little different about this morning. Observing her surroundings, she stopped suddenly when she realised what that difference was. There Tony stood, beaming with joy, his eyes watery, sniffling as he held Will in his arms. Michelle walked over, placing one hand on his shoulder, the other under Will. Slightly startled, he turned to gaze wondrously in her eyes. She planted a soft kiss to his cheek.

Michelle blinked and the loop reset.

— 

Tony stood at the altar, holding Michelle’s smooth hands in his, as he slid the white-gold wedding band onto her slim finger. She looked at him amorously, her hair cascading in soft waves down her sides, contrasting the minimal white gown. Tony couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked. Placing one hand at the nape of her neck, and the other around her slender waist, he pressed his lips to hers. After so many tearful goodbyes, it felt good to kiss her again. To feel her in his arms, the solace of her body nestled in his.

Tony blinked and the loop reset.

—

The three of them stood outside a house laden with ferns and vines. It wasn’t particularly big, but comfortable enough for two people. It was a sunny day. A young girl with auburn hair and piercing emerald eyes stepped out, accompanied by a similar-looking older woman. Minding the baby carrier, the girl ran towards the couple and hugged them. As she neared them, Tony realised it was Becky and her mother. Seeing her consumed by euphoria made him happy. Heaven had wiped out most of his negative memories, but he hadn’t forgotten her, or any of the other people he’d saved. He reciprocated the hug, taking in how free and innocent she looked, the way a child should. The five of them sat and chatted in the sunshine, Becky’s mother was just as kind yet tenacious as she was. 

Becky played with Will as if he were her own brother. 

—

Despite all the suffering they’d endured over the years, all the people lost, all the livelihoods destroyed, the soul-crushing disappointment when they couldn’t stop danger in time, it seemed as though being here finally gave them closure. 

Their dear friends and family who’d been sacrificed, most of them were here, living in bliss.

It was all worth it in the end, knowing that for lack of better phrasing, they truly were in a better place.

—

They blinked and the loop reset.