Chapter Text
Vincent’s eyes opened wide and he gasped for breath, slowly taking in his surroundings. His chest rose and fell fast with every sharp breath. He was on a street, the sky was a sickly red color. In the sky three celestial bodies. Some gold and white orb, another red and sinister orb, and…
Earth?
Slowly Vincent stood up and blinked. He tried to remember what had happened, how did he end up here? Buildings around him were dilapidated and crumbling. There was a light scent of sulfur and smoke in the air. And… things were walking around, weird humanoid anthropomorphic animals that were talking, laughing going on as if everything was normal. The last thing Vincent remembered was being in the studio, on air, about to baptize his followers, become a true god on earth. What had happened?
He closed his eyes, for a moment the extreme pain from the memory engulfed him. His breath that been slowly calming down, quickened once more, fear rising. Another scent filled the air, his own fear. His eyes shot open.
His scent blocker had worn off from… whatever had happened. Perhaps this was… death. Heaven? Hell? Could he of all people truly be in heaven after all the people he had murdered? With each breath his scent seemed to get stronger. He needed to get somewhere safe, get a plan, maybe find a scent blocker down here, figure all of this out.
Slowly Vincent made it out of the small alley he had woken up in, taking his first steps onto what seemed to be a main road here, ‘people’ walking around and ‘living life’ for lack of a better term. Living their after life perhaps. But Vincent needed to find a scent blocker and fast.
Because Vincent was an unclaimed omega.
He walked the streets slowly, his eyes glancing around. He could smell others scents around him, mostly betas of course, but he could smell other omegas and alphas too. In a world where everyone was an alpha, omega, or a beta, Vincent had always expected to be an alpha, wanted the control and power it came with. Craved having someone to have control over, power over, even from a young age the idea beckoned to him. But he was fourteen when his scent started and forever marked him as an omega.
A male omega of all things. It was rare, almost unheard of. And a female alpha? Even more of a ridiculous concept. And Vincent hated everything about it. He made sure to constantly have scent suppressors, trying his best to mask his scent as completely as possible. He hated his heats. And he had no interest in finding his true Alpha, or any alpha.
True pairings were rare, most just found an alpha or omega they felt compatible with. But some searched and wouldn’t settle for less then their true match. Vincent wanted neither, the idea of a female alpha disgusted him due to having grown up in the 1940s and early fifties, and having died in the mid fifties. And the idea of a male alpha… impossible. The mere notion of a man being attracted to another man? Disgusting!
Slowly Vincent got his bearings, he was indeed dead and in hell. Despite being dead it seemed like it was not much different to life. He didn’t love being a tv head but it seemed no one looked fully human, and there were worse things to be then a tv head. There were also jobs and money here for some reason still, and he needed to get a job and apartment and he still needed food and felt hunger.
Being dead sure was confusing.
But the thing he hated most of all in hell, while it seemed like he could get anything else he wanted from alcohol, to buying a cake from a bakery owned by someone who had owned one in life and made the most delicious pastries, to lube and prostitutes and cocaine, there seemed to be no scent maskers. No perfume, or special lotions or shampoos. Everyone just went on with their existence with their scents for everyone to smell.
He hated it.
He also disliked that it seemed the only media form was a radio show owned by some insane overlord who ripped others souls apart and broadcasted their screams. Vincent hated being deprived of his favorite form of media, television of course. But of course his hunger for power had not subsided with death. No if anything it got stronger, he was hungrier.
And this ‘Alastor’ was so interesting. He had power, a bunch of soul contracts and had power over many souls. Vincent himself hadn’t dipped his toes into the whole owning other souls thing just yet, he wanted to get a bit more established in hell first, some connections and such so that signing a contract with him would be appealing. What could he as a regular sinner offer to someone else anyway? Alastor also had a following, sinners had radios and would listen to his broadcasts eagerly awaiting the next scream that would echo out. It was similar to what he had had back on Earth in his life.
He started scheming, making not soul contracts but deals. He started working on getting loans from loan sharks, he loved sharks and was rather upset when he found out that there were hellborn that were sharks but yet he was a tv and not a shark! It was just another insult. But he was able to start construction on a studio and equipment, and started looking into some inventors to help him actually build the television sets and such. But how to get all of hell to make the switch from radio to television? To buy the sets he was putting his neck on the line to build?
There was only one solution, he had to meet this Alastor from the radio. Perhaps befriend him, lure him in, and then team up. Rise up together to rule hell! And then of course when the moment was right and he no longer needed that fossil of media, he would just slice his throat or betray him in some way perhaps publicly even to really display his prowess and greatness to all of hell and show what a weakling some silly radio demon is.
Vincent made up his mind, he was going to met Alastor to use him to rise above and become a god again, like he had come so close to doing back on earth in life. He could almost taste the sweet sweet power.