"Yes. I guess I expected more from the place. The underworld is supposed to be, well, hellish."
Lucifer said nothing. He quietly flipped over his card, regarding her with impatience as he waited for her to play hers. Silence ensued as they played a few hands, card after card going straight to him. He twirled his finger nonchalantly, flipping over an ace, as Serah’s hand hovered over her last card.
They both knew it was a Jack. They both knew he’d won.
The room around them shook, violently vibrating as the ground beneath Serah’s feet fractured in two, instantly swallowing the table and chairs. The moment the floor opened up, horrifying shrieks and cries of anguish spilled from the crack, blood-curdling screams piercing the air. Raging fire spilled out of the hole as the walls around them crumbled. Panicked, Serah’s eyes darted around as her wings expanded in defense. She soared from the ground, hovering above the flames as they consumed the room and everything in it. Lucifer remained in his marble chair, untouched by the blaze. His wings had erupted from his back, massive black shields blending in with the sudden cloud of thick smoke filling the room.
Serah covered her ears with her hands, trying to block out the uproar, but it only made it echo louder, more torturous. The agony seemed to be inside of her, the shrieks inexplicably embedded in her mind, unbearable and inescapable. She squeezed her eyes shut, yelling for it to stop.
All at once, the noise cut off in a screech, like the needle of a record player being torn away, total silence overcoming everything. Serah’s eyes flew open, stunned to find the room back in order, everything as it had been. She hovered in the air as Lucifer remained in his chair, his face a mask of indifference, but red swirled madly in his eyes as he stared at her.
"What was that?" she asked as she folded her wings away, landing back on the ground.
"Hell," he said quietly. "I diluted it a bit for you, but you got the gist of it."
"That’s Hell?"
He nodded. "You see what I want you to see, angel. But that? That’s reality. And I don’t just see it, or hear it—I feel it. Every second of every day."
She gaped at him. "I, uh. . ."
He shook his head before she could continue and pointed at her lone card somehow still lying on the table, face down. "Turn it over so we can finish this game."
Serah sat back down and flipped the card over, not even looking at it. Her eyes remained focused on him. "So if you make me see whatever you want me to see, does that mean you can make me see anything?"
He sighed with frustration as he grabbed the cards. "You’re awfully tenacious."
"I’ve been told that a time or two before."
"This place feeds off nightmares," he explained, shuffling. "It’s just like Heaven, but in reverse. In Heaven, a soul sees what makes it happy. Down here, they relive what terrorizes them."
"I know that much."
"Well, just like you get free rein above and can invade anyone’s Heaven, I can invade anyone’s Hell. I can enter anyone’s cage and do what I want. But there’s also a common ground, like your home above."
"And that—the fire, and screaming—that’s home?"
"Yes."
"So you can show me anyone’s Hell?"
"Yes."
She glanced around the room. "Whose Hell is this?"
"I guess you could say it's mine."
Her brow furrowed. His? She didn’t ask, prying no more. She could tell from his strained expression that he’d said as much as he would on the matter. She’d get no more from him unless she played for her answers and won them fair and square.
Games came and went, so many that Serah no longer bothered to keep track of how many they’d played. Lucifer won every single time, sometimes within a few minutes, while other times, the battle went on for hours. She lost herself in a sea of cards and numbers, everything else falling by the wayside in her quest to win.
"I don’t understand how you keep beating me," she said, huffing after a particularly long game. "I was certain I had you that time."
Lucifer motioned for the cards, but Serah snatched them up before he could get his hands on them. She sat back in her chair and started shuffling, eyes fixed squarely on him, waiting for him to object. A smirk turned his lips as he waved her on.
"You can shuffle all you want," he said. "War is a game of chance. It’s all the luck of the draw, no more calculated than the spin of a gun barrel in Russian roulette."
"I think I’d rather play that at this point," she muttered. "Too bad you’re immune to bullets."
He laughed. "Ah, don’t be bitter. You should accept the fact that maybe you’re not supposed to get your answers. Maybe you’re just destined to spend more time with me."
"Rubbish," she said, narrowing her eyes. "God is on my side. I’ll win."
She split the deck in half and flipped over her first card, more determined than ever to beat him at his game. Less than ten minutes later, Serah held one last measly card while Lucifer’s stack towered above hers.
Lost. Again.
"Thought you were going to win, angel? Thought Daddy was on your side?"
"You’re infuriating."
"Likewise."
Serah turned her last card over and stood up, not bothering to wait on him to flip his. She stalked to the wooden double doors and stormed out without saying a word.
Lucifer said nothing. He quietly flipped over his card, regarding her with impatience as he waited for her to play hers. Silence ensued as they played a few hands, card after card going straight to him. He twirled his finger nonchalantly, flipping over an ace, as Serah’s hand hovered over her last card.
They both knew it was a Jack. They both knew he’d won.
The room around them shook, violently vibrating as the ground beneath Serah’s feet fractured in two, instantly swallowing the table and chairs. The moment the floor opened up, horrifying shrieks and cries of anguish spilled from the crack, blood-curdling screams piercing the air. Raging fire spilled out of the hole as the walls around them crumbled. Panicked, Serah’s eyes darted around as her wings expanded in defense. She soared from the ground, hovering above the flames as they consumed the room and everything in it. Lucifer remained in his marble chair, untouched by the blaze. His wings had erupted from his back, massive black shields blending in with the sudden cloud of thick smoke filling the room.
Serah covered her ears with her hands, trying to block out the uproar, but it only made it echo louder, more torturous. The agony seemed to be inside of her, the shrieks inexplicably embedded in her mind, unbearable and inescapable. She squeezed her eyes shut, yelling for it to stop.
All at once, the noise cut off in a screech, like the needle of a record player being torn away, total silence overcoming everything. Serah’s eyes flew open, stunned to find the room back in order, everything as it had been. She hovered in the air as Lucifer remained in his chair, his face a mask of indifference, but red swirled madly in his eyes as he stared at her.
"What was that?" she asked as she folded her wings away, landing back on the ground.
"Hell," he said quietly. "I diluted it a bit for you, but you got the gist of it."
"That’s Hell?"
He nodded. "You see what I want you to see, angel. But that? That’s reality. And I don’t just see it, or hear it—I feel it. Every second of every day."
She gaped at him. "I, uh. . ."
He shook his head before she could continue and pointed at her lone card somehow still lying on the table, face down. "Turn it over so we can finish this game."
Serah sat back down and flipped the card over, not even looking at it. Her eyes remained focused on him. "So if you make me see whatever you want me to see, does that mean you can make me see anything?"
He sighed with frustration as he grabbed the cards. "You’re awfully tenacious."
"I’ve been told that a time or two before."
"This place feeds off nightmares," he explained, shuffling. "It’s just like Heaven, but in reverse. In Heaven, a soul sees what makes it happy. Down here, they relive what terrorizes them."
"I know that much."
"Well, just like you get free rein above and can invade anyone’s Heaven, I can invade anyone’s Hell. I can enter anyone’s cage and do what I want. But there’s also a common ground, like your home above."
"And that—the fire, and screaming—that’s home?"
"Yes."
"So you can show me anyone’s Hell?"
"Yes."
She glanced around the room. "Whose Hell is this?"
"I guess you could say it's mine."
Her brow furrowed. His? She didn’t ask, prying no more. She could tell from his strained expression that he’d said as much as he would on the matter. She’d get no more from him unless she played for her answers and won them fair and square.
Games came and went, so many that Serah no longer bothered to keep track of how many they’d played. Lucifer won every single time, sometimes within a few minutes, while other times, the battle went on for hours. She lost herself in a sea of cards and numbers, everything else falling by the wayside in her quest to win.
"I don’t understand how you keep beating me," she said, huffing after a particularly long game. "I was certain I had you that time."
Lucifer motioned for the cards, but Serah snatched them up before he could get his hands on them. She sat back in her chair and started shuffling, eyes fixed squarely on him, waiting for him to object. A smirk turned his lips as he waved her on.
"You can shuffle all you want," he said. "War is a game of chance. It’s all the luck of the draw, no more calculated than the spin of a gun barrel in Russian roulette."
"I think I’d rather play that at this point," she muttered. "Too bad you’re immune to bullets."
He laughed. "Ah, don’t be bitter. You should accept the fact that maybe you’re not supposed to get your answers. Maybe you’re just destined to spend more time with me."
"Rubbish," she said, narrowing her eyes. "God is on my side. I’ll win."
She split the deck in half and flipped over her first card, more determined than ever to beat him at his game. Less than ten minutes later, Serah held one last measly card while Lucifer’s stack towered above hers.
Lost. Again.
"Thought you were going to win, angel? Thought Daddy was on your side?"
"You’re infuriating."
"Likewise."
Serah turned her last card over and stood up, not bothering to wait on him to flip his. She stalked to the wooden double doors and stormed out without saying a word.
