Downfallen

“Let’s go for a walk.” Not a real request. Seraphiel hated leaving his quiet, secluded office. Hated the noise and smell beyond, so full of life. The not-quite attention.
  He was the only one who walked beside Asmodeus. Not by choice, but it was his place. A pristine white suit next to the stark, perfect dark lines of the Boss. Lessers scampered out of their way and didn’t dare sneak a peak at Seraphiel now that he was out, now that he wasn’t alone.
  For all that he might hate being in the devil’s company, having so many fear to even look his way now was satisfying. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually the source of said terror. Seraphiel was still left alone. Intentionally othered by a towering skyscraper full of bureaucratic hell spawn.
  He didn’t bother asking where they were going while they crossed the office floor toward the elevator. The tall devil with perfect styled black hair would either tell him or he wouldn’t. Most likely wouldn’t. Especially not in front of so many underlings.
  The gilded elevator felt too small to contain all that was Asmodeus’ presence. He was a heat, a pressure, a force barely confined in the shape of a human and wrapped in an expensive suit. He moved with inhuman grace, with a smile that felt unholy and sinister without flashing any teeth. All the subtle sin and careful evil presented in something too charming to be real. Seraphiel’s skin prickled with his presence, but he’d long gotten used to being so close to something so much. A creature unique in composition, that commanded the throne atop the monstrous food chain and had since time immemorial.
  He no longer denied the wicked satisfaction he took from having such exclusive attention. Seraphiel slid into the back of the car without complaint. The driver did not need to be told where they were going. One of Asmodeus’ too warm hands settled on Seraphiel’s knee. A possessive gesture while he read through something on a slender tablet flicking through feeds with lazy attention. The words on the screen held no meaning to Seraphiel so he didn’t try to read whatever it was the devil found interesting, even when he lingered over an article. He had never wanted any part of Asmodeus’ business, even though the devil insisted on including him.
  There were only a couple of reasons that Asmodeus bothered to take Seraphiel out of his quiet sanctuary. Either to parade him around as a trophy, to show off to the other denizens of the dark what he had, or… “I do not like when you take me out for collection,” Seraphiel remarked stiffly. The angel’s blue eyes were reflected in the car window while he watched the night city beyond pass by.
  Asmodeus sighed in amusement. A subtle exhale of breath though his expression didn’t change. The only response he was given in the long drive.
 
  The rundown warehouse ran counter to Seraphiel’s appearance. All rust and old metal to the angel’s white, pristine suit. In the harsh fluorescent overhead, the only thing that really stood out like a beacon of salvation was Seraphiel in the center of the gloom, flanked by the darker shapes of Asmodeus’ men. Kneeling in front of him were three men.
  Mortal men. Their faces were warped in varying states of abuse. Eyes wide in bruised desperation, their voices strained around the dirty rags stuffed into their mouths. They looked at Seraphiel like he was their last hope, their true Angel in that moment. Likely sensing on a supernatural sense what he was. They struggled against the clawed hands on their shoulders to get closer to him. Were it not for their hands bound behind their back, he knew they’d be reaching for him in supplication. He’d seen it countless times before.
  Seraphiel took a step back. The sound echoed despite their muffled pleas.
  Asmodeus’ chuckled softly as he moved next to him. Appearing out of the dark behind him. As quiet as Seraphiel’s disgust with the entire situation was loud. “Are you not compelled to help them, Angel?” His voice was soft silk and sin. A whisper meant only for Seraphiel while they both looked on, one with disinterest, the other with borderline contempt.
  “They made a deal with you, did they not?” Seraphiel did not look away from the humans, his voice projected loud enough they would hear him. A holy creature passing judgement in their darkest hour. They collectively shuddered in desperate fear, the pitch of their cries reaching a new level of terror. Claws dug into their shoulders to hold them in place while hissed laughter trickled from the darkness around them.
  Why the monsters found it so amusing an Angel would be disgusted by souls who made deals with evil was beyond him.
  “They did,” Asmodeus hummed. Though quieter than the mortal pleas, his voice was unmistakable in the large space. An executioner in waiting.
  Seraphiel turned to look the devil in the eye. “Then why am I here?” His body was taught with the indignation of time wasted. Of the farcical nature of the display. Why drag him in front of these people, in the disgusting warehouse that was rank with fear and the oily impending death of those who would serve Asmodeus beyond? Tainted souls that were beneath his care.
  Whatever Asmodeus saw in his expression amused the devil. Black eyes searched Seraphiel’s own before that supernaturally charming smile curved at the corner of the devil’s mouth. “Oh, Angel.” A thumb caressed Seraphiel’s jaw before Asmodeus glanced at the mortal men and simply waved a hand.
  Seraphiel turned before he could watch what would happen to them. He started walking away immediately when their screams started and had made several steps when it was all cut short. The sounds of body mutilation didn’t stop there but it was quickly drown out by the snap of his expensive shoes on the old cement. Asmodeus was quiet at his side, a heated presence. “You never cease to disappoint, Angel,” Asmodeus remarked.