The Kids From Yesterday ➸ Danger Days

eighteen • the politics of heaven and hell

Walking through the white halls, Brendon sighed and stopped at the foot of the stairs. He cleared his throat, but fixed his shirt. Hey, he wanted to look presentable and his red and black suit was still clean. Perks, Brendon supposed, of ruling hell, even if that meant having to constantly be changing out of his true demon form to make appearances. Like now, in the halls of rock and roll heaven (as he referred to it); one of the many different areas of the afterlife. Music heaven (where he currently was) was honestly his favorite, but there was something about hell that Brendon could never give up.

"Brendon Urie?" A lithe woman called, her golden sandals padding quietly over to the taller man. "If you will follow me, He has requested you in the neighboring room."

"What about the room next to that? I saw a bed in there, and by the looks-"

"Follow me, please." The woman had rolled her eyes, walking into the large open room. A fountain was inside, large windows letting in bright light. A grand piano sat in the path of the light, leaving the demon inside to sigh at the cleanliness of it all. One thing he actually did like.

"Oh, lord Elton John god, why the fuck did you call me up here? Is it to rub in the fact that this place is cleaner than mine ever will be? Cause let me tell you..."

"It's not that, Breadbin-"

"Brendon if you aren't gonna call me 'devil' or 'Satan', please."

"Brendon, you've been interfering with life on earth."

The slightly taller man smirked as he straightened out, crossing his arms and looking down at the music god. "So what? I'm allowed to have friends. And hey, if they get to heaven I'll be wondering what I did to deserve to fall down. But if they don't end up in your pearly halls then I'll be welcoming them with open arms down below."

Elton cocked an eyebrow, staring hard at Brendon. "You cannot keep interfering like this."

"Bitch, I'm literally the devil. I can do whatever the fuck I want."

The man in the white suit sighed, turning away. "You're right. Unfortunately. But this could mean bad things for your friends."

Brendon groaned, exasperated as he made a movement with his hands that accidentally broke a statue. But he didn't honestly care. "Thanks for the advice, grandpa, but I've got this completely under control." With the flick of his hand, sunglasses appeared in his palm and he put them on only to fix his quiff. What could he say, Brendon was digging this whole situation.

"Don't call me grandpa."

"Is dad better?"

"No."

"Oh, wait, would you prefer daddy? I mean, I can do Brokeback Mountain if you really want-"

"Brendon, stop."

"Aw, come on, what am I supposed to call you then?"

"How about... Elton."

"Fine, Elton, my man, I've got this. I'm hardly getting involved, just sending some people in the way of my friends that can help."

Elton John-god sighed, his hand holding his face as he looked down towards the ground. "Brendon?"

"Yes~?" 

"Sending Kellin Quinn was not a good idea. Now, you're going to fix this, and then you're going to stay out of their lives until they die." 

"Wait, what about Kellin wasn't a good idea? He's a cool guy."

"He's about to get Frank, Ray, and Mikey killed, and they're supposed to have another decade or two-"

"Ah shit!" With the snap of his fingers, Brendon had disappeared in a cloud of black smoke that left Elton John coughing and turning to one of the women nearby only to ask her to get 'Bowie' for him, because they needed to talk.