Chapter Two:
This Is Hell

xXx

Valentine had fled from the beach as soon as he accepted the terrible truth; he was sent to Earth as penance. It was just ridiculous in his mind that the Oracles had been so very cruel. After all, what had been so painful about what he had done to that girl Elaine? Just now, she looked fine-- even content. Her eyes had stared at him like if he were some sort of apparition. He looked down at his wet suit. That detestable human fashion... With a small smile, he couldn't help the satisfaction her awe had on him. He was quite the beautiful sight. Although many would have been amused for other reasons. Though he ruled over love, Valentine did not find admiration from women as a reason to engage in romantic involvements with them. He was far too superior a being for that- he could not love. It was simply forbidden in heaven. A small voice in his head said: But you are not in heaven.

Valentine ignored it. Being in the devil's territory always capacitated demons to utter bizarre things into the ears of innocent beings such as himself. It was better to count his blessings for having at least an elegant fashion on his body.

At least I do not have my pants hanging off my thighs and showing off my very rosy rear-end.

Valentine kept walking on the sidewalk with much displeasure.

Noise. Everywhere he went there was so much of it. His ears had become so entirely sensitive that they had begun to ring within just half an hour of being on the planet he loathed. How could people live in such disastrous conditions? Why did humans make so many unharmonious apparatuses? It was just mind boggling how many vehicles had those creaky or squeaky noises. And those horns! Only angels should be allowed to blare any kind of horns! Blasphemy!

Then, all that foul language that engulfed the mouth's of the people- not to mention their very hearts. It was so unpleasant to have to suffer through such agony. He had started to greatly miss the harmonies of the heavenly angels- which at the time he had been in heaven he found so very tiresome. After all- they always sang. Always was absolute in meaning- in fact- any word in heaven was simply absolute. He realized that in Earth, words were used very loosely, and not to mention carelessly. Valentine could not help the sorrow that swelled in his chest when he passed a mother and daughter arguing outside the entrance of those sinuous places called 'malls.'

“I hate you mom! I can't believe you made me buy this ugly dress!”

“As opposed to the one that had holes all over the place!”

“You're so uncool, mom.”

“And you are a very disrespectful young lady!”

It was truly a sad thing; to be stuck in such a careless place full of people who thought their problems were the center of the universe. Humans were so selfish and self-centered; every single one of them. Why did God even love them, he pondered. No wonder the center for prayers was always in need of distributors- these people did not know what to truly pray for. They did not know what was important. Very few actually had meaningful things to pray for.

And just where was Valentine supposed to say in the midst of all the confusion and turmoil? He had just been thrown down to Earth with one change of clothes and no further instructions save for the cryptic order of redemption. What was he, Satan? Valentine sighed.

“Where are you heading?”

Valentine whirled around to the source of the voice- which was a bit masculine- yet soft all at once. How could he have simply walked by such a terrible sight? Valentine's eyes settled upon an androgynous figure through narrowed slits. The person's hair was cut in an angular bob, silky black tresses falling straight down its jaw. Eyes were a very creepy iridescent gold that was almost glowing under the glare of the street lamp and it had a thick line of Kohl eyeliner over the upper lids. Lips were painted red, with lip liner in black. Long fingers had short, painted nails in the color of scarlet red. The figure hid whatever garments he wore under a long, black leather, flowing trench coat. If anything- the person looked like a messenger from hell. And he did not want to discuss anything with a resident of the pits.

Valentine arched one brow. “And who are you?”

“Such a condescending tone.” the person smirked.

Valentine had no humor to offer, “I asked you a question.”

The person chuckled, “So did I.”

“I have no need to inform you where I am going.” Valentine raised his head up, sticking his nose in the air with a hint of arrogance.

“Neither do I have to tell you who I am.” It smiled, “But, I will.”

Valentine looked at him or her, expectantly. “And?”

“I am Destiny.”

Valentine began to laugh, “You are an impostor!”

Destiny quirked one thin and naturally arched brow and Valentine noticed a piercing there. He was disgusted. How could such a creature claim to be Destiny? It looked like the right hand of Satan! Well, no, the right hand of Satan is actually handsome they say. Although he had to admit that the person before him was beautiful, regardless of the costume it wore.

“Believe what you desire.” Destiny waved its hand dismissively, “But, right about now, it is destined that a car crash happen on the next block behind you.”

True to prophecy, the sound of screeching wheels and a loud bang was heard. Valentine turned to look over his shoulders, eyes widening at the sight of the collision. A mini-van had slammed into the passenger's side of a sports car. It looked like a someone had crumbled the smaller car like paper.

“It is destined that the person-- a mother of three-- driving the mini-van steps out of the vehicle to come to the aid of the people in the Corvette.”

Again, being right, a woman got out of the car, limping on her right leg-- shouting to her children to stay in the car-- and went to the side of the red Corvette she had hit.

“It is destined she will scream in horror because the person will be dead.”

The woman's lungs released a shrill scream that echoed throughout the entire block. Her hands went to her head and she fell to her knees. Unseen to her human eyes, a tall and dark figure approached the sports car-- his heels clicking with each step he took-- and Valentine's eyes almost popped out of its sockets; it was Death. Valentine had never seen Death. He wore a dark suit and a pair of sunglasses; he looked like a common businessman. It was such a peculiar sight-- he had not imagined Death to be so beautiful. But the face of the man was gorgeous; the epitome of perfection. Death inserted his arms through the broken window and pulled out a ghostly form of the woman who had been alive just a few minutes ago. She lied lifeless in his arms and glowed softly. Death was taking her soul. He turned to them, looking past Valentine and into the golden glow of Destiny's and nodded his head very slightly. It was as if there was some sort of understanding between them.

Sirens wailed in the distance and only then did Valentine turn to look at the person claiming to be Destiny. He felt a pang of grief overcome his senses, but he refused to show his weakness to the thing before him.

“You can be psychic.” he retorted, trying to look unaffected by the mundane accident, “Hell has that kind of power.”

Destiny laughed, “At this very moment, I can cause your destiny to change and then what will you call me? A demon perhaps?” It stepped closer to Valentine, holding a perpetual grin, “But demons do not have power to change destiny. They are given power by weakness of soul... and you have no weak soul, Cupid.”

Valentine took a step back, not liking the wisdom in its voice, much less the knowledge of his true identity, “You cannot affect me.” he smiled, “I am not of this world.”

“It is destined that you trip and fall back, hitting your head and breaking the skin...” Destiny sneered, “Right now.”

As if by some inexplicable force, Valentine tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and fell backwards-- his head colliding harshly against the cement. It actually hurt. It hurt so very much and his vision went black for a few seconds. Blinking his eyelids, he slowly sat up, hand automatically flying to touch the hot liquid moistening his blond hair. When he gazed at his fingertips he saw the crimson liquid- knew it to be blood- and moaned furiously. Why was he feeling so many emotions? Emotions he didn't feel so passionately before?

“What are you?” Valentine demanded.

“You were told you would become mortal.” Destiny smiled triumphantly, “And I rule over the lives of mortals.”

The odd looking being hovered over him, “I told you.” It whispered, “I am Destiny. And I am here to manipulate your a life.”

A/N:
Thanks to those who reviewed. I haven't proofed this one either. But I do not write here to be grammatically correct; sorry. Still, I like to have an easy reading flow even if it isn't perfect.

I hope you liked it and continue to read!