The cell did not have rusty bars to cage the prisoner. It didn’t have any dusty windows showing that it was around three o’clock in the afternoon, a beautiful day to go swimming, or perhaps read a romance book on a foot of a hill, letting yourself be soaked in the shining shine. The cell was spotlessly clean and spacious to have the prisoner pace away. A soft plush twin bed tucked in a corner. A curtain that moved to let the prisoner have some privacy while using the toilet.

Thomas Pitch was sitting on the bed, his face buried in his hands. He wasn’t crying but thinking. He would not cry.

He wasn’t surprised taken to a prison in the Heroes’ Headquarters. He was surprised that he would be executed in less than three days. John told him, with a wicked smile on his face, a clean merciful slit on his throat. Dead before he dropped to the ground. Painless. Waiting for my death...painless my ass.

He was surprised...no better term, shocked beyond belief that his boss, his idol had agreed to have him executed, in his boss's own words: “Yes, let's put this diseased dog down.”

Pitch stared at his boss in his thought—no his best friend, lost in words. Diseased dog? His boss had never used negative words about Pitch before, not at least in his face. He now glared at his boss as his boss’s enemy grabbed Pitch's arms and his boss literally let Pitch be dragged away, his feet skittering on the floor into this cell.

He repeated the seven words that somehow formed a perfect, horrible sentence: Yes, let's put down this diseased dog. He felt coldness spread through his body, Pitch never really cared what people said to his face or behind his back. He had been called worse. Of course, no one liked to be called stupid or a diseased dog by their best friends.

“I trusted you.” He knew he was foolish to trust his boss, even though his boss was going through a hard time. But never had he thought that his friends would let the heroes execute him. It’s one thing to have his side call him a betrayer and kill him, but it was different to let his side give him to the other side and execute him. It was embarrassing.

He replayed a new different scene. Michael, sliced his neck, blood gashed out. His brain registered that his neck had been sliced, and pain would start kicking in, but he would be dead before his pain nerves started to kick in.

He wasn’t sure if this was better to think about. He now looked up, a glass wall separating himself from the world. He stood up and started to pace. Back and forth, back and forth. He had thought of escaping, hell, he even tried. Didn’t work of course. The cage was specifically for powerful beings like himself to be contained.

Maybe being a powerful warlock is a curse, not a blessing. He always loved his powers. Many people, like his boss, relied upon him using his powers to protect their side, to make portals for escaping, and his being immortal, living through many events made him a valuable assistant in the aspect of healing villains. He was a doctor, with all kinds of different degrees. Dr. Pitch people would call him. His boss would state it had a sexy ring to it. He smiled just a little. Somehow he had to find some spark of hope before his death. It was hard not to drown in the sorrowfulness as death knocked at his door.

Dr. Pitch wasn’t just a physical doctor, but a mental one. He was a licensed therapist, general surgeon, dermatologist, pediatrician, and so forth. When villains were sick by diseases or curses put on them to die; he would be there to save them and bring them back from the brink of death. He would operate on and fix what was broken.

He wasn’t noticed by the higher-ranking demons from his skill until one of the Princes of Hell was dying from a disease, made by the heroes, called: The Demonic Disease, which killed over three thousand demons. The higher-ranking demons weren’t worried, but when Belial died, it became serious. Then when a Prince of Hell fell sick...well, he was called and made the first cure for the Demonic Disease, saving the Prince of Hell’s life and countless other demons. He was finally recognized and had a title given to him. Lucifer’s sidekick, Thomas Pitch, a licensed doctor, a Prince of Hell, and Lucifer’s right-hand man and best friend. People respected him as years passed. No one dared to try to hurt any of other Lucifer’s friends, because Pitch could put a spell on them less than they can vanish into thin air.

But now, no one respected him. They wanted him dead and to move on. He was a dangerous person. He had always been dangerous—to the heroes but now was dangerous to the villains.

The door swung open, making Pitch jump in surprise, catching his attention from the silence that was slowly killing him.

Michael walked in with his sidekick, Daniel holding a tray of food. Michael's piercing eyes gazed at Pitch. “I brought your steak, well done with mac-n-cheese, just like you asked.”

Pitch flickered his eyes to two small girls next to Michael. Michael protectively put his hands on the girls’ heads. Daniel walked to the cell and waited for Pitch to put his hands on the wall and back towards them. Pitch heard a rectangular slide door opening, small enough to put a plate through it with a plastic fork and spoon. Plastic because anything else Pitch could kill with. They all knew this. No knife, because he could stab Daniel’s eyes out and do quite a damage before Daniel could even begin to protect himself. He could try to choke Daniel with the spoon and jab him with the fork...but it wouldn’t effective and the angels would beat the living daylights out of him. Angels frowned on others hurting their kind.

Pitch turned around as he heard the door closed. He didn’t grab his plate right away. He kept staring at the two girls, as tall as Michael’s hips.

“So,” the girl with long brown hair whispered up to Michael, “Is that Pitch? The most powerful warlock? The one you are going to kill?”

Michael nodded down to her, “Yes, it’s him.”

The other girl with dark brown eyes giggled, “You didn’t tell me he was handsome.”

Daniel chuckled.

Michael frowned, “He may be handsome, but he is one of the most dangerous people out there. Never get closer than ten feet from him.”

The little girl giggled again, “But we are closer than ten feet from him,” she remarked, trying to be a smartass, Pitch concluded.

Michael then smiled, and pointed to the glass wall, “See that glass wall. It separates us from him. It is a magical barrier that prevents him from using magic and escaping.”

“Oh, cool!” the little girl gasped.

The other girl said, “Well, I already knew that. If someone tries to break the glass, they go into a deep slumber and an alert goes off into the security room.”

“That’s right, Kate,” the Archangel beamed at her. “Very good.”

Pitch wanted to roll his eyes. Did Michael think he was some educational, experiment guinea pig? Pitch guessed so. “Can you leave? I like to eat in peace.”

The girl with dark eyes gazed up at Michael, “Why will you kill him?” She tugged on the end of his shirt. “He’s nice. Don’t kill him. You always said to give everyone a second chance.”

Kate cut in before Michael could reply, “If we give him a second chance, a World War would probably break out. Or he would kill all the heroes. Do you want that, Sara?”

Sara gulped, now looking at him with new eyes.” She looked at Pitch, “why are the handsome ones always the most dangerous ones?”

“So they can be charming,” commented Michael.

Kate beamed, “And Michael is handsome! The most handsome man ever!”

Daniel and Michael laughed, “Aw, thank you, sweetie,” said Michael.

Pitch laughed along with them, but not a hardy laugh, "Handsome my ass. I wouldn’t fuck him if it saved me from execution.”

“Daddy,” wondered Sara, “What’s fuck?”

Michael gasped at Pitch, “Do not use such foul language in front of my children.”

Daniel burst out laughing again, “Sara, don’t ask things that you don’t want to know.”

“But I do wanna know,” declared Sara. “Pitch, you are a doctor, what does fuck mean?”

Thomas Pitch crackled. “It can mean different things.” He saw Kate clang closer to Michael. “It can mean intercourse or a bad word, or perhaps excitement.”

“Intercourse, that’s a big word!” exclaimed Sara, “Daddy,” she tugged on his arm now, “What does intercourse mean!”

Michael groaned, “I explain later. Maybe when you are much older.”

Pitch clicked his tongue and leaned his shoulder against the glass, “Maybe if you tell them now, you can save your breath later?”

“Agh, no,” said Michael.

“Aw,” chuckled Pitch, “They are too innocent and precious to know about intercourse. How cute Michael. Really cute. That’s stupid.” He sighed and sat down on his bed. He felt heavyweights go on his shoulder. The thought of dying scared him. He always told his friend that he wasn’t afraid of death. Maybe it was the thought of knowing he was going to die less than three days than dying without knowing he was going to. He felt tears come up and pain shredding through him like a grinder. What was the point of holding himself back from crying? He was going to die anyway. He lost his dignity long ago. He let tears flood through him. He was strong from the first twenty-four hours, but now...he couldn’t hold back the bear of death dangling at his face...literally. Michael, they say he is the angel of life...they were deadly mistaken.

He heard some sad sighs and he looked up painfully at Daniel and Michael's sad faces. They looked away. He didn’t feel so powerful anymore. He didn’t feel so...himself anymore. He felt darkness, not like villainess darkness, but awful darkness surrounding him. He cried out, “I don’t want to die, give me another chance, please Michael.” He felt his body shake from terror. Where would he go? He knew Heaven was out of the option. And Hell, that would be so uncomfortable. He was a Prince of Hell. Would then he go to Purgatory?

He saw Michael’s face freeze up. Maybe he will have mercy on me...But it was only for a split second. “Pitch, I am sorry. I am so truly sorry. You killed Matthew, a dear hero. You hurt one of Lucifer’s sidekicks, almost killing her...and you are just…”

“What, too powerful Michael? No, you are scared that I will destroy this place. Look, if we made a peace treaty, I can be gone and you will never see me or hear me ever again,” begged Pitch. His tears were hot, still coming down and he felt himself sweating in his black clothing. His lavender eyes sparked from tears.

Michael took a step forward, “Look, I appreciate you trying. But my answer is no. Lucifer told me he wanted you gone. I agree.” He scoffed to himself, “First time we ever agreed on something.” He turned back to Pitch, “I’m sorry.” He walked back to the girls, “Let us go.”

They started to walk away.

“Please,” Pitch gasped. He fell to his knees, his body smooched against the glass. “I am literally begging on my knees.”

Michael stopped, “No, Pitch. You made your bed.” He grabbed each of the girl’s hands. Daniel opened the door. Before the door closed, Sara looked back, her head cocked to the side, staring right into his lavender eyes. People used to tell him his eyes could hypnotize anyone. He stared back, trying to hypnotize her to let him free, or something. He thought he saw the girl understand his pain. But she turned away as the door closed.

The three days were long and tiring. Pitch lay on his bed, letting his mind lead to the most gruesome deaths. He would dream of Michael slitting his throat and he would wake up, touching his throat. Every night, his dreams would feel real and he would sob himself back to sleep. The third night, he dozed off, dreaming of being in Hell, having a feast with his best friends, declaring war on Michael and drawing out the plans, which he loved to do, and kissing—

There was a noise that startled him awake. He gasped and sat up immediately. It was pitch black and the light switched on. He let out an uttered breath. It was time.

He felt his hair stick to his neck from sweat and he felt his heart pound against his chest.

He gritted his teeth. He would not go to the execution place willingly. He would fight as they put chains on him, as they dragged him to Michael. He would spit on Michael’s angelic face and a curse. He would kill at least three heroes. He would die going down in flames.

His eyes adjusted to the brightness and he heard quiet footsteps. It’s Michael. His footsteps are soft. He closed his eyes tightly. I do not regret anything I did. Matthew deserved to die. You deserve to die and burn in hellfire. He screamed, “Fuck you Michael, and every stupid angel you have. Your race will one day die and I will laugh while I burn in Hell.” He felt amazingly better. Well, just a little. He opened his eyes and it was not Michael. Or Daniel or that asshole John. It was Sara.

She cocked her head again holding a teddy bear in her arms. Pitch blinked for a few minutes, to see if he was seeing things clearly. He looked at the tightly closed door. She held her teddy bear more tightly, “Dad said the F word is bad for you.”

“I thought you were someone else,” He walked to the glass, confused why a hero would bring this girl in. “So, you’re Sara? What are you doing here?” Maybe my hypothesizing worked on her.

Sara just stared at him.

Pitch nervously looked up the clock. Fifteen more minutes until he had a knife to his throat. He had to somehow convince this little beast to let him go. He had to start something simple. What am I thinking? She couldn’t open this cell if someone wanted to...Pitch, you have to try or at least die trying. “How old are you?”

Sara looked down at the floor, “Five.”

“Wow, you are so old!” he joked.

Sara giggled. Pitch smiled, he was getting somewhere. “You are old too!”

“I am!” agreed Pitch. “So.” He sat down. He knew if he made himself look smaller, he will look less threatening. “So, what are you doing here?”

Sara stared back at him, “You have such pretty eyes. I wish I had eyes like yours.”

He wanted to frown. But he smiled, “Thank you. You are a beautiful girl.” At least she was complimenting him.

Sara blushed and took a step forward. This was good, she was trusting him. He looked up at the clock. Thirteen more minutes. “I...” said Sara, “I am here to save you. I don’t think Dad is right. Everyone deserves a second chance. Even if you killed someone! I killed people accidentally…” she looked at her teddy bear, guilty. “I know how you feel.” Her face was tight from the memory.

Pitch wanted to press how she “accidentally” kill some people, but he was running out of time. He had to guess how he was going to say this. She did look pretty innocent. He would need to play nice. He could tell that she wouldn’t let him be mean and threatening. He gave a sad face, “I...too accidentally killed Matthew….I didn’t mean to. He was trying to hurt me! I was just trying to defend myself.” He didn’t see her when he attacked Andrew and slaughtered him like a pig.

Sara’s eyes glimmered. “I was angry too! They told me I was stupid and should die!” She whimpered and took another step.

Pitch wondered who were “they”. “Oh, Sara, I am so sorry. Why did they want you to die? Who are ‘they’?” If he asked personal questions, he could try to have her feel closer to him.

Sara gasped and took another step. Two more steps and she would be at the glass wall, “The angels told me I should die.” She looked behind her to see if anyone was coming.” She took another small step. She whispered, “Because I’m part demon I should die.”

Pitch didn’t expect this. Part demon? A demon is a falling angel...so...did a human and demon do the deed and made her? “When I was born, my parents hated me, because I was different. I had powers and was a warlock...and I was gay. They hated me for who I was and banished me. I know how you feel, Sara.” He touched his chest, where his heart was. This was a true fact. For some reason, his heart fluttered in his chest, and felt as if he knew this girl all his life. Like...she was his own daughter. “Sara, please, I don’t want to die.”

Sara took another step forward, touching the glass.

Pitch looked at the clock. Nine more minutes.

“Promise me this. If I give you a second chance...you will not use it against me? You will learn from yourself.”

Pitch wanted to say yes immediately. But he knew that this child was smart. Adults took children as dumb, but they were smart in many ways. If he said yes immediately, she would be suspicious. He pondered this. He wanted to show her that...he was considering that yes, he was going to try to better himself. “Yes, Sara. I will try my absolute best to better myself.” Again, this was true, but not what Sara would want. He would leave and try to learn to dodge away from the heroes and villains. He would live a new life, covered for who he really was.

Sara thought, looking at him some more.

Pitch worried he said something wrong.

But Sara let out a contented smile, “Alright, I trust you.”

The warlock pouted, “But if you release me how am I going to hide from Michael?” He knew that Sara couldn’t help him...even if she managed to get him out, she wouldn’t be able to help him hide anymore.

“Well,” Sara looked at the screen and a password and fingerprint shinned on her. She frowned and looked up, her straight hair covering part of her face. She looked tired. “If you are such a powerful warlock, you could do a spell and...du—duplekat ...”

“Duplicate?”

Sara's eyes flashed open, “Yes! Thank you. That was a hard word.” She went back to the screen. “You could duplicate yourself, a fake one in the cell, just feels and acts like you; and you could disappear and start a second life!”

Pitch had thought of this before. He grinned, “Looks like you and I have the same idea. Let me out and I start a new life.”

She hugged her teddy bear tightly, “You promise you won’t tell anyone I let you go?”

Pitch stared at her kindly, “I promise.”

Five more minutes.

She exhaled, “Alright, I never did a secret mission before!” She closed her eyes, and opened it again, looking at the locked screen—the screen unlocked.

Without her even touching it. Her powers. She said she was a part demon...what other part is she? Pitch knew that a normal demon wouldn’t be able to do this. This was a high, protective room. Surrounded with powers personally from Michael.

So how the hell did she do that?

The door opened from Pitch’s cell.

She said softly, “Don’t worry, the security room will have you looking like you are still asleep.”

Pitch took a step out. He turned to the cell and let his magic flow. A duplicate of him appeared. He made sure his duplicate was exactly like him. He will fight out as I would’ve. He would curse and spit on Michael. Michael will sense my powers before they put magic-proof chains on me and I will die in front of their eyes as Michael slits my throat.

The cell door closed.

Three more minutes.

He turned to Sara now. He had time to just say: “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Sara smiled warmly, “Dad says always give people second chances.” She looked away from Pitch’s eyes, “I have a second chance. Michael gave me a second chance.”

“Because you killed the angels.”

“Accidentally!” flared Sara.

“Never said it was your fault.” He believed her. He had never accidentally killed someone though. He knelt down to her, now their eyes locking together, “I will never forgive your kindness.”

Sara's eyes shinned. “You should go before you get killed. But…” She unhooked a necklace and gently put the necklace around Pitch’s neck and clipped back on him, “For you. So we don’t forget each other.”

Pitch sighed, “So I don’t forget you. Don’t worry, Sara.” He kissed her on the forehead and she fell down and Pitch caught her. “You will never even remember a thing. This will just be between me now. Can’t have you slipping up.”

He knew that the cameras would stop working from Sara’s powers as she went to sleep. He kept the scene the same, his identical self sleeping on the plush bed.

He stood up and created a portal that sparked blue. He stepped in.

One more minute.

He emerged into a quiet forest and laid Sara down on the forest ground. He put a log down. It would look like you fell down while you were walking back to the Heroes’ Headquarters and bumped your head. He even created some footsteps from her and a bruise on her head. She will wake up in pain and probably cry. But all will be well.

He put his hand on her forehead and cast out the last few minutes ago from her head. He redid new memories. This can be quite dangerous. Recreating false memories, Pitch had no choice. She could have visions and a constant headache. But he put a spell on her, that would go unnoticed that none of that would appear in the future.

He heard footsteps, more like jogging footsteps. He quickly made a portal. But, before he stepped in, his impulse told him to take the teddy bear with him. He gave Sara one more glance and disappeared into the unknown.

It was time.