Chapter Text
Antagonistic is a word you could use to describe their relationship. A bold dash of pure Antagonism as the base, with a wry twist of something that wasn’t quite camaraderie but… more than outright disgust. It was a heady, dizzying mixture. To think, they’d been real friends, once upon a time.
Pretty sure the smug bastard assumed they still were. And, maybe he wouldn’t be completely wrong… Hell had a complex ecosystem afterall. Sometimes friends were just the people who stabbed you in the back less often than others down here.
And, sure… having someone yank on your leash made a guy resentful but let’s be real, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been guilty of a load of similar sins before it all came crashing down. Maybe moreso for his sheer carelessness with what he’d had.
It was so easy to call to mind images of the past, all those faceless masses of sinners whose necks had been adorned with brilliant golden chains, the same colour as his ruthless feline eyes; their hands clapping in adulation, voices always admiring and laughing at his most mediocre joke just to appease, bodies bowing and scraping with the merest glance their way. You could get used to that kind of power. It was addictive and never-ending, like a glass with the most divine liquor… once you tried it, any price was enough to keep quenching that thirst.
But then, there was no way to see yourself as you consumed it so readily. No way to realise how each metaphorical sip bends you to its whims, twists your thoughts down paths you would never have considered when sober, in order to maintain what you have right that very moment and not a second more. It was so easy to fall, unless you really stay on top of that sh*t. But cognition is hard when you’re drunk on power and high off your own ambitions, isn’t it?
Lotta the up and comer type Overlords were like stars. They burned hard and fast and fell back to the Pit in a husk of used-up flesh, ready to be picked over by the lowest tier of Hell for their hubris. So many little debts to be paid in flesh.
Others had themselves anchored down right. No quicksand get rich overnight scheme for these ones, they’d built empires on bedrock and taken power into their own hands through domineering willpower and cornering industries to the utter destruction of all competitors. Like Carmilla, like Rosie, and of course, Zestial.
Hell, even the Vees if you wanted to think charitably about the f*ckers for a second… they had something Hell wanted, needed and would sell their souls for. Even if it was only protection from the very things the Overlords offered in a different form.
Husk’d always respected Carmilla. The Weapons Demon always seemed to handle the heavy mantle of her Overlord status just fine over the decades; but then again, she had her girls to hold her fast on the track of… if not morality, then at least an iron-clad form of sanity. But Husk, on the other hand? Heh. He’d let his power run away with him the higher up he climbed, the stronger he became, and gotten overconfident. Same old story a dozen dozen dozen times over all throughout Pride if anyone was caring to chronicle this sh*t.
Hells, the sheer unadulterated gall had reached such dizzying heights that Husk had even begun to gamble away souls like they were nothing more than meaningless trinkets, laughing at their betrayed faces as their contracts changed hands. In hindsight, that still curdled his stomach in the dark of night. But at the time… it’d been nothing. Just a bit of fun, really. Just the price of a good night, like finding out someone threw up in a flower pot or your favourite whiskey bottle had been drained by a faceless houseguest.
Of course, Husk had also easily won a few souls in the melee of the poker table, over the course of many games, but they didn’t last very long. No winning streak does. And of course, when it’s not yours to start with… who cares what happens? Classic gambler’s pitfall, that.
Why consider them as living, breathing beings when you won them as a scrap of paper and a name, with a good hand? Why consider the horror in their eyes as your colour infuses their chain, and they worry about what you intend to do with them now?
Why bother at all with those beneath you. Not when they were a fun little addition to the Pot, a thrill to raise the ante, without threatening your hold on all the other long-standing thralls and holdings. At least, that’s how he figured at the time.
Gambling was an addiction for a reason… when you were in the midst of it, no matter the string of wins or losses, you didn’t notice the rest of the world. You didn’t notice the little people propping up your empire until they started to get plucked out from under you. Until the table folds before you do.
Maybe things would have continued on in that fashion until the Thrall Well was bone dry, but for some inexplicable reason… something had clicked in his head one morning during the devastating aftermath of a dizzy drunken night of celebration at the casino. He vividly recalled the blinding sunlight that he’d snapped awake to, with a roiling sick sensation gripping his guts, calling for a Sinner that had been gambled recklessly away the night before and feeling a hollow ache at the echoing silence that followed. At the sudden cruel and unyielding realisation of how far he’d fallen… the creeping awareness that he could now count on a hand how many chains were still bound to him, after the vicious betting the night before, and that meant more than a few of his Favoured were now… lost.
The all-encompassing shame of not even recalling to whom he’d lost them… and what horrors he’d sold them into. All in the pursuit of the next big win. So f*cking abysmally assured and self-confident he could win everything back in the next hand, or the next, or the one beyond no matter how many times he failed.
He’d smashed the bathroom mirror in a fit of rage and made snarling growls instead of angered admonishments to himself… but it hadn’t changed anything. It just meant there was another mess to clean up. f*cking typical of him.
Husk vividly recalled how he’d cursed and cried and smashed and shouted; horrified to his very core to realise that he’d gone so far as to sacrifice the ones he’d actually given half a sh*t about… and for what? An extra hand? A stash of cash he didn’t need? A few f*cking baubles that were easily replacable unlike the good sinners and hellborn he’d traded the souls of for them?
That pit of self-loathing was a slick one to crawl out of. He’d raged for days on end in a bourbon-fuelled explosion after pulling himself together enough to leave his suites above the casino; couldn’t risk other Overlords sniffing around when he was so fraught. Had to put on a show, of course.
Disgust still coats the back of his tongue anytime the former Overlord thinks back to that time. How his control was so thin, the only thing holding back a full-on rampage through Pentagram City had been the quiet pleas of his ‘inner circle’, the ones he’d contracted mutually for their protection.
S’why Husk always understood without words why Alastor took in Niffty, despite the chaos she often wrought, and would tear apart anyone who looked at the little demoness wrong. After all, he’d been there and done that with his own Favoured. None of ‘em had been half as unhinged as the maid, though. But he was, admittedly, biased… they’d been a motley crew, but they’d been loyal and sometimes called him out on his bullsh*t when he needed to hear a dissenting voice.
He hadn’t necessarily been an overtly cruel overlord, not like some of the others. Sure, he’d pull the claws out if he had to, but not against his own people. Not unless they did something horrifically f*cked up. The fear in their eyes back then was… f*ck, it’d done something to Husk, that was for sure, and it was their begging that bound that desperate violence inside him in those dark days.
Perhaps it was that uncertainty, the dark pall that hung over the casino that drew the attention of the other Overlords, but Husk had never been quite sure. More than a few visited in that short space of time, as if scenting blood in the water… waiting to see if there was a meal. He’d had to have… help to turn away at least one of the more persistent ones.
And then there’d been the f*cking big shot mass-murdering Radio Demon himself.
They’d been… to the best of an extent two power-hungry, mildly deranged titans of violent industry could be… okay enough friends before their deal. So when Alastor had turned up on the casino floor unannounced, with that wide f*cking grin and an extended hand, Husk had really let himself think that perhaps this was one of those once in an afterlifetime situations where a sort-of friend was going to fill the breach for his mistakes… but that very train of thought was when it all started to go downhill.
Well, that and how Husk’d worded the tendered contract between them. So brashly co*cksure he was going to end up with a swagful of power and the Radio Demon on a golden leash, to boot, that he just didn’t stop to think about what the reverse could look like.
What a f*ckin’ joke that’d turned out to be.
You could say he was still waiting for the punchline to kick in.
Ever since that whole fiasco, Husk had found himself being tugged this way and that along with Alastor’s whims. Sure, Niffty wasn’t too bad once you got to know her idiosyncrasies, and he’d kinda known her beforehand, so babysitting duty wasn’t too onerous.
But some of the weird tasks you ended up running for the Boss could be anything from fighting goopy blue sap out of some sinner-eating over-roided hellplant for some weird concoction or another, to blowing up buildings to spell out a message to another Overlord, or the few times you had to go get some ‘take-away’... which usually meant cleaning blood’n’guts out from under your claws for hours.
Still, Husk grumbles to himself on the sh*tier days… whatever else you could say for the psychotic deer, the f*cker at least made sure they were fed and taken care of. Even when the guy’d up and disappeared, Husk knew the rent would never come due or had anyone bug him over grocery deliveries to the tiny apartments. These things just kept up in the Overlord’s absence.
And cash? Hell, money seemed to flow about them someway or another, and Husk never really gave too much of a sh*t to ask where it originated from… it was never an issue. He could ask for something, and sure there’d be back and forth and teasing, but it’d turn up if it was a reasonable request. Well, unless you got caught lying about it… or you kept asking for a flamethrower, like Niffty did.
Real damn glad Al wasn’t fulfilling that little request anytime soon… the time the enterprising maid worked out how to fashion a molotov with cleaning supplies still made his nose wrinkle at the phantom scent of charred fur.
Didn’t get too disciplined either. Except the few times he got caught sneaking out to gamble or get black-out drunk, which was strongly discouraged with a rather horrifying portalling through the void like some kind of evil timeout. It was like Hell’s version of Addict’s Anonymous, a one-step program that involved Husk having a f*cking nightmare time trying to get near his addictions or solid ground. Pretty sure it was all out of sprite, not genuine attempts to help, from the deer. Never could tell with the red-furred f*cker.
And sure, maybe he’d be encouraged to go full kitty cat once or twice when the Boss was in a despicable mood, but Husk’s dignity was bottom shelf at the moment, so he’d purr a bit if that’s what kept his insides on the inside for the foreseeable future. That and… y’know, when Niffty needed a fluffy purring body to shake her out of those nasty ass nightmares she sometimes had. It was a bit demeaning… but he’d live with it.
All in all, this whole… thrall thing straight up wasn’t even the worst time he’d had under another Overlord. Heck when he’d fallen face-first into the Pit it’d been right onto the bonnet of one of the older overlords’ vehicles, and she’d been delighted to snavel him up immediately. After some animated bitching about the dent to her car.
And, even in direct comparison to Alastor and whatever the f*ck was wrong with those Vees these days, there was no contest on who Top Crazy was amongst the lot of ‘em. That dame had been off her rocker, borderline feral, behind all that frou-frou bullsh*t pagentry she put on with her little high tea parties and the pouffy dresses and that nonsense; anyone who liked to bathe in the blood of beautiful sinners to fix their f*cked up face was beyond saving from Husk’s perspective. He used to drink hard to forget about that until the whole of his existence felt like a vague nightmare he was swimming through day to day.
Still, on that singularly unimportant but life altering day when the lace white chain about his throat had shattered into ether as her screams echoed over a sudden radio broadcast… it’d been hard to feel any sense of sadness or regret about it. She’d gone for the longjump record in nasty bitch, much like the others of her ilk back then, and seeing her stumble face-first into the metaphorical sludge was borderline cathartic.
His own empire rose and fell shortly after that time. Barely a cliffnote, honestly.
Point was, Husk knew without a doubt that he’d seen some f*cked-up sh*t and done some worse sh*t to others, and now he was leashed to another psychopath who liked to throw his weight around whenever he felt Husk was getting a bit uppity. No matter how kind someone could be in the interim between backhands, the anticipation of a strike was still there.
No one liked to have their chain yanked. It was f*cking humiliating even if no one else saw the act or the threats, and it was galling to see others adore the person who saw you as their property. Same as he burned inside at Valentino’s treatment of Angel Dust, and the injuries the spider always returned with.
Sure, it was great that Alastor didn’t usually resort to the physical, or ever engage in the sexual, ways of coercing a thrall to remain in place… but it didn’t discount the f*cked psychological stuff he pulled. The threat of violence means something if the power to enact it is waiting in the wings, after all. That was the same sort of Overlord he’d found himself turning into, too… never strike when a word could cut down; and he’d never been one to Valentino a thrall or another sinner. Never.
But, everytime Alastor pulled that sh*t to knock him back into place, it always left Husk feeling oddly terrified… and conflicted. Oddly displaced in his own head, because there was always an echo of his own actions in a time gone by, when it happened. He’d been the one pulling, once upon a time, and now the tables turned back on him. Was it fair that he baulked now given it was just his turn on the leash?
Sometimes… not that he’d admit it aloud unless he wanted Charlie or the do-gooder squad to try aromatherapy or some new fangled nonsense on him, but sometimes… Husk half-wished the mad deer had just reneged on their little contract and chosen to kill him outright. Not the whole, broadcast-for-eternity business, per say, but a puncture from some angelic steel and it would’ve ceased his humiliation forever.
Then, on the other paw… things weren’t as bad as they could have been. The seven years of radio silence were pretty damn good for a minute there… even if it had left him feeling like the sword of damocles was hanging over his head, just waiting to drop at any second when the smiling lunatic returned. Half-expected to wake up one night with the freaky-faced git grinning a foot from his face, watching him sleep with a jolly ‘Good morning Husker, how are you?’.
Lucky it didn’t come to that, he might’ve soiled his damn self. Spooky enough when Niffty sometimes watched him sleep… the eyeball glowed.
Not that he’d ever actively admit to Alastor that this whole thrall thing wasn’t as bad as it could be. That’d be tantamount to waving a rag at a bull, and he liked his limbs intact and uneaten thanks.
No, in a perfect afterlife Husk was going to spit on the deer’s grave if he got the chance… but until then, this hotel thing wasn’t the worst thing he could be saddled with. Even if it sometimes meant participating in the Princess’s overly enthusiastic redemption exercises, or having an eight foot power bottom arachnid sliding innuendos across the bar at him at all hours of the night. Least it wasn’t boring.
Also gave him a chance to keep a close watch on the Boss.
Ever since that little tiff with Vox a few years back, communication had gone… heh, radio silent from the Overlord, which had been pretty concerning. Like he’d said, sword of damocles…
Alastor was the kind of sinister trickster you only felt safe having in your direct line of vision at all f*cking times. Not knowing where or how the guy was, made his fur stand on end in a staticky panic.
Husk’d only known the Overlord was still kicking, ‘cause of the witchlight green collar about his throat. And that was a given, of course, but… a guy could get a bit anxious about a chain stretching into the unknown with no end in sight. Not knowing when the hammer would drop was such a specifically hard to articulate feeling that dogged every moment of every day until the thundering bang snapped you out of that uncertainty.
Something waved in his peripheral vision.
“Hey Whiskers, you in there? Pretty sure if you polish that glass any harder it’s gonna wear out.”
Husk jerked back to the present with a thrill of uncertainty coiling in his abdomen; the heavy thoughts and self-loathing laced ruminations on the sh*tshow of his afterlife fell away as it became immediately apparent that one Angel ‘Legs’ Dust had been trying to get his attention for some time now. He must’ve spaced out. Huh, that didn’t usually happen often these days.
“Hey, you doing okay?” Came the query, sincere concern laced into the tone as a single hand hovered across the bartop, not quite reaching for his but the option was there.
Husk slung the towel over his shoulder and slid the glass away below the countertop in a move so automatic it didn’t even register for a few seconds longer as he glanced down to find the tumbler now seemingly vanished. Heh, world’s greatest magician here, never to reveal his secrets even to himself. “Hmm, yeah, yeah, I was just… in my head. That whole ‘think about your choices’ game Charlie had us play this morning just knocked some f*cked up memories loose, that’s all.”
“Oh… anything you wanna talk about? I promise you can’t say nothing that would shock me. At all. I’ve either seen it, done it, or was elbows-deep in it at some point. Promise!” Angel winked, infusing his own particular brand of humour to the conversation. The slender fingers made contact with his own paw, briefly, and pulled back as if it was just an accident.
“It’s… fine. Nothing exciting… just remembered that Alastor ain’t the only crazy f*cker of an Overlord I’ve been contracted to in the past. Do you remember that Bathory bird, the so-called ‘Beautiful Demon’? Hah, she called herself that by the way. Came down here in full-on toad demon form and never stopped trying to fix it. Potives, potions, creams, infusions, rituals, blood baths of a literal kind… nothing worked. You know the saying is ‘ugly as sin’, well she sure as hell was.” Husk laughed, the humour slightly wasted on an audience who likely hadn’t seen a picture of the woman. “Ah well, maybe you missed seeing her. I sure as spit, didn’t. f*ckin’ landed on top of the hood of her car when I fell into this stinking pit. She wasn’t very amused, but offered me a job... and I was just new enough, and stupid enough, to take it.”
“Yeah? How’d you end up getting outta that little lot then?” Angel asks, accepting a well-mixed Two Strippers One Pole co*cktail from the bartender, not for the first time wondering who named these things. But in the interest of getting a little more backstory, from the secretive and elusive hunky bartender, wasn’t going to divert the conversation. “Weren’t you a big fancy-ass overlord at some point?”
That was a subject he’d learned to be at peace with.
“Yeah… yeah I was. Look when the Radio Demon appeared down here, like really Appeared outta Nowhere overnight, he started to just wipe out the heavy-hitters of the Overlords, and Bat-sh*t Bathory was one of ‘em. Heh, Al told me years later that he found her wasteful… killing dozens of people just for a single bath and tossing the bodies like trash. It really pissed him off. Still, broke my chain to her… and then, I got in with some others who enjoyed casual violence and gambling, started to win big. The rest was history from there until I started to lose it all, and Alastor swept in with a deal.” Husk had covered some of the backstory from that point with Angel during one of their long drinking sessions in the past. Nothing worth rehashing.
“I feel like there’s more to it, but… if that’s all you wanna say, I’m not pushing any harder.” The spider snorts (adorably), ignores the laser-like warning glare from Vaggie from across the lobby, and adds, “That’s what he said!”
Disgust radiates off the former exorcist, her volume increasing, even if no one could work out exactly what she was saying. Husk knew a number of languages, but when she was cranky, that girl could growl the words almost indecipherably.
He shrugged and turned back to Angel as Charlie whispered to her girlfriend something that seemed to settle her down again. Probably something about how it was an improvement in Angel’s normal speaking patterns, or somesuch rainbows-and-kittens based nonsense.
Don’t get him wrong, Husk liked the Princess, he really did… but you could tell that she had very limited real-life experience with just about any of the topics she wanted to help with. That’d come with time, but it could be jarring. Sometimes help came in ways that seemed counter productive at first, and you had to have patience… those weird ass role plays were absolutely the wrong type of assistance to be offering sinners. But, eh, as long as Alastor wanted to fuel Charlie’s delusions on how to help sinners… well, he was gonna be here.
Turning back to focus on the obvious problem at hand, he co*cks his head.
“So, how was your day?”
“Oh, y’know, lotta dicks. Some of ‘em writing the plot, and some intrinsic TO the plot. Same old, same old. You’d be surprised how many banana-based jokes you can fit into one p*rno, I tell ya! Oh, and I got tomorrow off because Val is going on a big trip with Velvette to some fashion thing across the Ring. So I was wonderin’ if maybe you’d wanna… y’know, go get a drink somewhere?” Angel asked, his expression aiming for calm casual, but there was a genuine thread of anxiety in there that caught the ear. As if he was waiting for rejection before the proposal was even out of his mouth.
“Sure. Or we could maybe… go get a bite to eat somewhere interesting, instead? Heard there’s a new Italian style restaurant opening up downtown I’d love to try and talk sh*t about, if you’re up for it?” he counters, watching a fire light up behind all eight beautiful eyes. “Of course, if you’re not interested, we could order something in… maybe some Hawaiian pizza?”
It was like watching a bomb detonate in all its magnificent glory, with four hands gesticulating wildly through the air as Anthony (not Angel Dust, Anthony) expressed his absolute and undisguised distaste for the practice of vile sinners placing pineapple upon the sacred base of pizza and how his nonna would likely descend from Heaven to kill whoever came up with that stupid idea! All in the fascinatingly accented Italian that the staff and residents of the Hotel had come to know and love, from a riled-up Angel Dust.
Husk nodded along, not having actively mentioned to Angel that he actually understood the language, just yet. He was saving that little truth for the right moment, which was either going to be intensely emotionally charged or the perfectly timed comedic reveal ever. That was the kind of afterlives they were living, here.
“Dear me, what is all this commotion in here?” crackles a mood-dampening transatlantic accent, static seeping around the words in an almost physical way. Husk felt his ears try to flatten down, but he pushed through it, affecting nonchalance as best he could while Alastor manifested behind Angel in a liquid mass of shadows.
“Just talking about Angel’s views on pineapple on pizza, Boss… turns out he has some strong thoughts on it, s’all.” Husk hums, leaning on the countertop. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Why, yes indeedy my good man! I assume that, as someone with the correct opinions on pizza, our Angel here would also happen to be the best person to provide his feedback on that new restaurant opening down the way… the one with Italian cuisine. What was it called?” Alastor spoke like he didn’t need other participants in his conversation, so it sometimes caught you off guard when an opening arose.
“Er, the ‘Nice Piza Ass’ I think. Bit on the nose, but I was thinkin’ of taking Angel over there tomorrow…” Husk replies, quietly enjoying the way Alastor wrinkles his own nose at the name.
“Splendid! Do run along there with our dear Husker at your earliest convenience, and let us know if they have something even approaching genuine cuisine, Angel. Why, we may even be able to add them to the roster for the nights we order meals in. I believe a few people are getting frustrated with the regulars, especially since the quality at Fishing for Compliments dropped when the head chef was exterminated! Hahahah!”
“D-...did you just sorta wingman a date between me and Husker?” Angel looked like he was seconds from dropping his glass in shock, so Husk snatched it away.
“Hmmm? Why of course not, don’t be preposterous! It is simply an ideal opportunity to have someone who knows the culture vouch for whether it is being adequately prepared… or utterly butchered! Hah! The same reason you’d have to kill me outright before I let anyone here order from that vile waste of time ‘Take It Orlean-ve It’ and their horrendous attempt at Creole fare.” Alastor beamed, a malicious edge to that ever-present smile.
True, the only reason the restaurant still stood after boldly advertising a ‘new take on the bland old days’ of Creole staples, and using a variety of horrifically incorrect substitutes that included tofu instead of most meats, and actively excluded half the spices necessary for the dishes; was one very determined Charlie Morningstar. The Princess of Hell herself had talked an enraged Overlord out of portalling the whole building into a shadow dimension or something… it had been as pants-wettingly terrifying as it was hilarious to watch.
Angel had understood. There was a way to do things… and you didn’t go about disrespecting a man’s mamma’s or nonna’s recipes with that fake hipster bullsh*t ‘improving’ nonsense, without expecting to lose a few kneecaps. Alastor had been simply delighted to see that the spider sinner was willing to come destroy the establishment alongside him, and ever since, the pair had forged a semi-decent friendship (the stuck up Radio Demon kept saying acquaintanceship, but that was progress either way).
“Aw c’mon Smiles, you know everyone here only likes your version of those dishes anyway. We’d still want you to make them for us even if the restaurant was up to snuff, which it ain’t. At all. I saw a review on Velp the other day that said they thought the pepper was too spicy, and nearly bit my own tongue laughing at it.” Angel grins, half-spinning to face both conversational parties, while still appearing to lounge effortlessly on the barstool. “But I think I can swing a little visit to the new place, see what they got to offer… and if it ain’t to my liking, perhaps you’d have some time free to help me leave a… one star review?”
“Oho, of course my good man! You know I am always up for a little culinary critiquing!” enthused the Overlord, one eye spiralling into a radio dial as a laugh track played through ominous distortion.
“Ah hah, well… ooooooooooor we could maybe not threaten to destroy people’s entire afterlivelihoods? Guys? …please?” Charlie jumps in, one slender pointer finger half-raised as if she didn’t want to be rude with her gentle entreaty against potential mass property damage and wholesale slaughter.
A quiet, contemplative pause ripples through the air as thin as gossamer silk in a breeze, before the sinners present start to laugh at the absurdity of the statement. They try not to, of course, because Charlie’s feelings are clearly being hurt by the reaction but… this was Hell, literal Hell. Sometimes a review was a harshly-worded blurb on a trash-’em-up website like Velp, and sometimes it was a cherry bomb through your car window. That’s how it worked.
“Oh my dear Charlotte, you do bring joy to every conversation, don’t you?” A softer laugh track echos the words, cheapening the saccharine sentiment somewhat. “Now, now don’t fuss! The judgement has not been passed, so no action is planned, plotted or proposed as of yet, my positive little Princess. I was actually just on my way to speak with you in relation to your… hmmm, most intriguing idea for the next ‘open house day’ at the Hazbin Hotel.”
“You were?” Charlie brightens, blind to the suspicious glare Vaggie is shooting at the Overlord. “Anything in particular you wanted to discuss about the plans? I thought we could just do a general meet and greet, maybe some light food and drinks, an activity, a tour…”
“Indeed I was. My thoughts were that perhaps we might structure things a little more strategically so that there are not a half dozen untethered sinners rummaging around the hotel all at once, given the limited staff available, hmmm? I understand you wish to see the best in everyone, however… this is very much Hell, dear. There will always be someone seeking the chance to ‘case the joint’ as it were, and it is important we keep a close watch upon them all to prevent such incidents.” He pauses consideringly, as if the next statement needed careful weighting.
Apparently whatever it was won out over the cons, or was perhaps of too great a potential for intrigue to pass up. Alastor grins sharply. “Oh, and the lovely Miss Niffty had the most darling idea the other night, about the Hotel creating an official brochure… perhaps with some professional illustrations and a bit of a spiel on the whole concept, it might change some minds if they are provided the time and space to formulate their own views. You do tend to become a mite… enthusiastic when speaking to sinners, dear.”
“Huh, that’s actually a good idea…” Vaggie mutters under her breath, expression immediately turning to guarded interest. “And what do you get out of it?”
“Good question! Niffty would be delighted to help, she is quite talented after all and wishes to add her… enthusiasm… to promoting the hotel! But I would caution you not to let her add any drawings of her own to this particular project, as she’s been… very imaginative recently, and it could cause some severe distress to the wrong viewer!” Alastor carefully skips around directly addressing the situation.
Husk shuddered, knowing (unfortunately) exactly what Alastor was talking about. Niffty was an amazing artist, but she certainly used those talents for Evil; namely making everyone uncomfortable… especially when you found a picture she’d drawn of you, down to the smallest detail or flaw on your body that you didn’t know she knew about, and that left you nervous to change clothes without checking for hidden peepholes in your room.
Also, those brilliant doodles often involved ‘you’ doing something of a p*rnographic nature with another member (or four) of the hotel… he could never unsee the ones she’d whipped up of him and the King of Hell.
Husk knew he’d never be able to shake the memory of Niffty’s artistic suggestions around how the bartender could best utilise his Majesty’s apple-topped cane… and it haunted his nightmares through the anatomical impossibility of it all. Well drawn, of course, but… horrifying.
Angel, on the other hand, had been flattered by all the truly detailed and extraordinary art; even if it did have a few that were plainly impossible pairings, like that one where he was avidly invested in pleasing (of all people) Vaggie with each of his six hands at once. Vaggie hadn’t been able to look in Angel’s direction for a good week after they found that one, especially since the tall brat of a spider would make a show of throwing suggestive winks and gestures with his many limbs at her each time they were in the same room. Vaggie would go brilliant red until Charlie distracted her enough to lower the angel’s blood pressure.
Speaking of Angel Dust… Husk had nearly had a heart attack to see several of the damn drawings lovingly framed in the spider’s room, with clear preference for his favourites, based on proximity to the bed. Vaggie was still petitioning to have ‘their’ drawing taken down but at this point Angel was so committed to the bit of idolising it that he’d even put a neon sign over it saying ‘Angel’s Angel’ and a pink heart. So it drew the eye no matter how hard you tried to avoid acknowledging it.
Husk felt that all of the ‘artpieces’ would have to go into a drawer if they ever did get serious… he really couldn’t sleep seeing that one of Angel and the f*ckin’ Radio Demon getting depraved looming down over them. It was also welldone, but retina-searing for entirely different reasons that left Husk up at night.
Had been funny to watch the Overlord’s expression go near-purple as Angel tried to convince Charlie to let him use That Picture to promote the hotel. Because it was sorta like that original idea he’d had for advertising… but, thankfully, the Princess had put her foot down. Before Alastor lost his composure from one too many innuendoes at his expense.
To be fair, given some of the weird sh*t Angel’s so-called ‘fans’ sent the guy… these drawings were by far the most flattering fanart items he’d ever received. And that’s pretty damn depressing when you thought about it too hard. Only guy who had it worse ‘round these Rings was that jester fella, Fizzarolli, from what Husk’d been able to glean from the trashy media rags and television. It’s only a matter of time before Angelbots start appearing on shelves though… even Husk knows about how Valentino and Vox have been working to replicate the blasted things Mammon churned out in an endless cash grab.
More importantly, they needed to find out how Niffty was getting such detailed anatomical details of everyone in the hotel. It was kinda terrifying when you thought about it. Alastor had tried using his Shadow to search for hidden holes and vents or even cameras, but nothing was coming up as the culprit.
“Uh, honey… are you okay?” Charlie asks gently, shaking Vaggie’s shoulder carefully.
Vaggie had a thousand yard stare going that could probably see through solid rock given the intensity. “He’s right. Just this once, the psychotic evil cannibal overlord is Right. I can’t imagine we’d get the right kind of sinners if we shared those illustrations around in a pamphlet or whatever. They were… too…” she waves a hand as if trying to pluck the right descriptor out of the air.
“Really? I thought the one she did of us was sweet! Weird, and wildly inappropriate conduct for a workplace relationship, but very sweet!” Charlie beamed, clapping her hands to her blushing cheeks. “But anything where we’re together is lovely to me, you know that. Ooooh, I love you so much Vaggie! Oh, uh… heh. Right! Back in the conversation. Still, Al, it’s a great idea… we should have a meeting tomorrow to talk about what to even put into a brochure. Oooh, what about dialects? How many languages are in Hell right now? And what about sinners with low literacy? Could we do a comic-style one to explain without words? Vaggie, are you thinking what I’m thinking…?”
“Babe, I can safely say I have no idea, but I support you either way.” The former angel smiles, a soft little thing that is only for Charlie.
“Ohmygosh you guys are killing us with this syrupy lovey-dovey stuff!” Angel says, and his tone is affectionately disgusted by the level of love swimming through the room. Seriously, you could do a backstroke in it, the sweetness was tooth decaying and it radiated off the equally-smitten pair.
Husk tries not to laugh at the way Alastor, the big tough Radio Demon’s, ears lay back flat on his head at the display. “Indeed.” He intones, sounding wildly uncomfortable underneath the layers of movietone newsreel accent.
“I think I’d much prefer to be impale-... hmmm, stabbed outright.” His phrasing snapping to a safer option automatically in response to that impressively suggestive eyebrow waggle from one Mr Angel Dust. After all, even if it was just teasing, you could only hear a simpered ‘Ooooh Deer Daddy’ so many times in a calendar year before giving in to the impulse to burn everything in a forty foot radius to the ground.
Cutting in, before anything could go sideways or explode, the bartender clears his throat.
“Sounds like something you might just wanna try talking over later on, when everyone’s had a chance to brainstorm, huh?” Husk suggests, stretching out his back and wings with a satisfying series of crackling pops. “After all, the hotel’s on Hell’s radar now, we might as well capitalise on that attention any way we can. Maybe we could even ask the Vees for some airtime to-... hey, hey I was just messin’ around, Boss!”
Symbols in neon green dance across the air between them as he receives a maliciously acidic glare. Shadows writhed about the walls menacingly.
“Oh, uh, about the whole ‘commercial thing’, you see I actually already spoke with the-... uh, Alastor? Al…? You good?” Charlie subsides into silence as the sheer overload of sound exploded through the room.
The whine of feedback became physically oppressive as Alastor’s antlers snapped out instinctively. For the briefest second, the Radio Demon seemed to pause and ultimately decide to take it as a well-natured jibe… settling static and burgeoning size to normal proportions once more.
“My word, Husker, one would think we’d managed to dissuade you from such poorly-worded jokes after all these decades… and yet, you persist. No. If we must do another commercial, let it be via radio or another hilariously in-house video advertisem*nt… this endeavour need not be sullied by Their vile hands.”
“You gotta little vendetta against my boss and his friends, there, Smiles?” Angel asked, genuinely curious at the undercurrent of tension in the room. He could feel Vaggie and Husk attempting to make very pointed ‘leave it alone’ expressions in his general direction, and chose to ignore both. Self-preservation? Never heard’a her. “I mean, I get the sense Val ain’tcha bag, and Vel is a bit… modern, but I woulda thought two media-based demons might at least begrudgingly get along, right?”
Husk grabs for the closest of Angel’s arms, a warning to lay off, but it’s already far too late for that. Radio dial eyes glare at the arachnid sinner, writhing shadows once more littering the walls and swarming across the floor in response to the rising emotion.
“You would think so, wouldn’t you? Hahahaaaaa… no, that bridge has long been burned to ashes and blown to the four corners of the ring, all because that little picture box always wanted more, bigger, better… and now look at him. His head is even more ridiculous than the one he fell with! Why you should have seen it, the man couldn’t stay upright for more than a moment unaided, before. He would smash his screen trying to change socks, it was hilarious.” The tone varied between anger and humour, putting everyone on edge.
“I picked the fool up the first time, when he careened down into the Pit, you know… and now I cannot recall why I ever bothered. Especially after that foul moth arrived, always enabling, pushing the little megalomaniac to do whatever was in that foul miniscule mechanical simulacrum of a heart. The ugly little insect was also the one who first floated the idea to wield Podcast’s hypnotic influence as he does now… masses enslaved with each broadcast, mindlessly consuming and purchasing without ever knowing why. To override consent and boundaries in pursuit of a goal, because now he believes that the ends do absolutely justify the means.”
“Hey, hey, I know, boss. Angel’s sorry for bringing it up. He didn’t… look there ain’t a lot of people alive aware about the full story, between the exterminations and Vox’s hypnosis rewriting history and all.” Husk placates, because he is to some degree, genuinely terrified… but he’s also dealt with this before. “Vox wouldn’t dare come here, it’s your territory… you know that. So maybe you could, I dunno, calm down before you break the hotel in half? Or do I need to call Rosie because you’re about to tear her hardwork with all this shifting, huh?”
Sure, he might pay for it later, but it was better than trying to deal with a full-on meltdown from a powerful overlord in front of the princess, her girlfriend and a well-known p*rnstar; the latter of which who just so happened to be contracted to one of the Vees and unable to keep secrets if forced to spill ‘em. At least Alastor wasn’t in full form, or they’d all be in trouble.
It was also… kinda upsetting on some level, to see a guy he sort of almost maybe somewhat considered a friend so distraught. Especially knowing what he knew about the way the connection really broke down… and what had really happened to sever that trust for good.
The response was a garbled noise like a half-dozen soundbytes all running together into an audible molasses at ear-splitting volume, with the strangest cry of something animalistic layered over it. But, in true fashion for the demon, in a split-second he was shifting back to his regular visage once more and brushing down his suit as if he hadn’t nearly lost his mind twice in a short space of time.
“Apologies everyone, talking about that infuriating picture box does tend to strike a nerve, even now. Do forget about that little lapse of etiquette, if you know what’s good for you?” Alastor hums, and for a split second it appears as if he is reaching to summon his microphone before thinking better of it. Currently the second worst-kept secret in the hotel is that it was damaged in the attack, facing off against Adam, but the specifics are vague.
“Actually, I reeeeeally need to tell you something about… haha, you’re gonna laugh Al, I know you love jokes but… see, I already reached out to, um, someone about the commercial and I think perhaps we should discuss this somewhere less… fragile? Okay? Okay.” The nervous energy Charlie is putting off could light the whole hotel for a week, if adequately harnessed. She pauses, frowns in that adorable way that often means trouble and adds. “Wait, what was that about Rosie?”
Alastor throws Husk a rather dark look promising retribution over that little slip up.
“Ah, Husker was merely referring to the fine patch dearest Rosie and her seamstressing team did on my coat post-battle. Some rude braggart put quite the tear in it.”
“How could’ya even tell? It’s like, fifty percent tear there Al.” Angel shoots back, pointing with at least three hands to the very tattered hemline. “I mean, I don’t mind seeing clothes torn off on occasion, but this coat’a yours is barely torn-ON.”
“Hah! Good one, chum!” Alastor shot back, appearing lost in the jest but Husk could see the way those red eyes flickered across to Charlie to check if the Princess had dropped it yet. “Anyhow, I believe we should reconvene tomorrow morning about the whole opening malarky, and then of course the brochure, and whatever else the hotel needs at that time. In any case, I was just about to pop over to Cannibal Town for a quick evening visit, they have a number of lovely boutiques that operate in the nocturnal hours. Niffty dear, would you like to come along? I believe the little outfit we ordered for you may be ready to collect. Rosie put a rush on it, because you know she adores you so!”
The statement was addressed directly upwards to a vent in the high, vaulted ceiling.
“Go to see Ms Rosie?! Would I?!” Came the metallic echo as a concerning number of groans and clangs were heard travelling across the breadth of the ceiling to the very vent at the centre of everyone’s rapt attention right that moment. Which then swung open to dislodge the little maid at top speed, giggling the entire way towards the floor, until she was safely plucked from the air and ensconced in one of Alastor’s inky tendrils.
“Again! Again! Let me hit the floor next time, I love when it hurts!” Niffty giggled, clapping delightedly.
“Would but we have the time to do so, Niffty! Perhaps later.” Alastor soothed. He glanced towards the bar. “Husker, would you care to come along for this little jaunt?”
“You just want me to carry your damn bags, I’m not an idiot, Boss.” Husk grumbled back, knowing that realistically, he was probably going to go anyway. With a somewhat dramatic huff, he makes a show of relenting. “Not like there’s a lotta guests to demand my time this hour of evening. Sure, whatever, I’ll come.”
Angel immediately bursts into giggles.
“Whiskers, between you, me, and freaky face over there we could make hell’s most disgruntled p*rn studio. Call it ‘Yeah, yeah, fine I’ll come. What’s it to you?’ studios or something… featuring actors who know what you wanna see and they just don’t care!”
“Angel! We talked about this!” Vaggie hisses, tugging at her own hair. The man’s ability to find innuendo in anything was exhausting to her, especially trying to reign it in when they had potential guests around.
Husk hides a smirk behind his paw and clears his throat. “Well, I think that’s probably not going to bring in guests, but I’m willing to give it a go if-...”
Vaggie turns her glare at Husk, and he trails off. She’s trying so hard not to break into a grin, it’s almost freakin’ adorable, and he can see why Charlie is so over the moon for the other woman. Ah, not that someone as grizzled and serious as Husk would ever admit to that out loud, of course.
“Oh, tell Rosie I said Hi! I reaaaaaaaaaaally wanna go with you so bad, but I have this meeting and my Dad’s coming over in a bit, so I can’t. But please tell her I said hello and thank you and that I’ll come by to see her soon, so she can meet Vaggie officially!” Charlie agonised, bouncing up and down at the twin desires.
“Hey, calm down, I promise it’ll be fine. We can arrange to see her tomorrow, maybe? After the morning rush has died down so she won’t be too busy to see us.” Vaggie soothes, a gentling hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder, thumb rubbing soft circles to settle the effervescent blonde down.
Charlie deflates a little. “Yeah, you’re right. Well, it’s okay… maybe Dad will want to go tomorrow too?”
“Maybe, hun, we can ask him when he gets here.”
“Ask me what when I get here?” Lucifer queries, appearing behind them like this was one of those sitcoms that were so popular these days. Husk, cynical bastard extraordinaire, half-expected to hear a music sting… and threw a side-long glance to Alastor, silently challenging the overlord.
“Dad, you’re here!” Charlie yelled, hurling herself at his majesty, and nearly toppling them both to the floor with the sheer excitement she exuded from every pore. “Well, Alastor and Niffty and Husk and I think Angel maybe, are going to go over to Cannibal Town to get Niffty’s new dress, and I was just saying that I really really really wanna go too, but we had a meeting tonight, and you were coming over which I was suuuuuper excited about by the way, so then Vaggie, have you seen my girlfriend Vaggie? She’s gorgeous! But anyway, Vaggie said maybe we could go tomorrow and I thought what if Dad wants to come tomorrow too and-... Angel, please don’t laugh at that-... and-...”
“Duckling, BREATHE, you’re going to fall over otherwise!” Lucifer shook Charlie slightly, as if he could manually kickstart the process with enough (literal) wiggle room. “Of course we can go on a fun family, and extended interlopers, adventure tomorrow to-... did you say Cannibal Town? The place where they eat people?”
“Oh don’t let the stereotypes fool you, they’re lovely people, your Majesty.” Alastor interjects, striding over to place an arm around Charlie’s shoulders for an unexpected sidelong squeeze. “Why our charming Charlotte here managed to convince the entire town to fight for her hotel and dreams in the last battle, and that’s no easy feat! They are a delightful bunch, but exceptionally picky… especially Susan. However, the upside is that the town is downright bursting with angelic byproducts, so neither you nor the lovely Vagatha have anything to worry about! Hahahahaaaaaa!”
“Ho-hooooookay, that’s creepy as hell.” Lucifer responds, immediately pushing Alastor’s arm off of Charlie and attempting to wedge himself between them. “Charlie, my darling daughter who I love very much and is my child, I would love to visit this place with you and Maggie tomorrow. Just you two… and me. No one else.”
“Daaaaaaaad, come on, he’s teasing you because you fall for it every time!” Charlie bemoans, slumping slightly at the obvious tug of war going on before her. She might be naive to some things, but she’s got eyes, dammnit.
Vaggie tries hard to hide her amusem*nt. “You, uh, kind of do fall for it a lot, Sir.”
“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport, Sire! I’m certain between the two of us we can find a solution to this conundrum that has you so short-tempered. In fact, let’s make it a group activity, why not just come with us now…?” A pause. “You know what, Angel? Even I heard it that time… giggle away, if you must.”
Lucifer actually seemed to be considering it, which would make for an interesting outing.
Things might have resolved quickly from that point on if everyone didn’t immediately zero-in on the look of crippling guilt and anxiety that infused the Princess’s face that very second. Her hands fidgeted, gaze dancing between them all as she tried hard not to show anything was off or untoward.
“Ahah, actually Al… well, you see… there’s this really important meeting I need to have, and maybe you guys should just go… now… before they arrive. So…” Charlie tried to shoo them out the door, as subtly as one might swat a persistent fly with a rocket launcher.
Alastor narrowed his eyes. “Charlotte my dear, I cannot help but to notice that you have been awfully persistent about making certain we are out of the hotel when this little meeting of yours happens. Would you care to elaborate which person or persons you are entertaining this evening, and what business they have with the hotel? Your reluctance is cause for concern.”
“Whaaaaaaat? Nooooooooo… I mean, pfft, don’t worry about it! It’s something I have handled okay!” She waves off the questioning glances heading her way. “You just go enjoy your evening out, or whatever… I can manage the hotel just fine!”
Lucifer glances between Charlie and Alastor, noting that something is clearly off here.
“Char-Char, can you at least tell me who you’re meeting?”
“I… well, look… I wouldn’t have asked but the hotel needs it, so I…” there was a pause, and then words came flying out of her mouth like a ruptured fire hydrant. “IarrangedaoneononemeetingwithMrVoxoftheVeestogetourcommercialideaoffthegroundand-...”
“ A̸̻̺͂̀b̵̩̦͗̏̐͝s̵̡̯̫̍̎̃͝ȯ̸̜͇̮͎͇͊̒l̶͓͚͍͖̬̅̌û̷͎̐t̵̤̒̉̾ȩ̴͕̱̺͙̅̉̍͘l̶͍̟̺̂̄̿̚y̶͔̗̓͌͝ ̶͕̃͝N̶̪͍̏̏Ó̷̩̅̈́̒͋Ț̵̳͍̤̰̏ !” Alastor yelled, the sound mangling around Husk’s sharp shout of “NO!”
Somewhere in there, a quiet “No, he’s not a good bad boy!” echoed from a suspended maid.
The room snapped silent instantly.
Charlie had the audacity to look hurt, then exceptionally angry.
“I am a grown woman with the ability to make my own choices, and while yes you are important members of staff and I respect your opinions, I have the right to do whatever is necessary to make this work. That’s why I wanted you out of here so no one would feel uncomfortable.”
“Charlotte, listen to me.” Alastor’s tone was as pointedly sharp and deliberate as ever, the static bordering on deafening as Husk saw him place a slightly trembling hand on her shoulder. Fingers holding tight to the fabric as if to try and impress the weight of his words physically. “If you do not hear anything else I have to say, then hear this if you insist on this foolishness… do not be alone with Vox. Take your father, or your dearest Vagatha, if you absolutely insist on meeting with the cretin… you know the ability he possesses. Perhaps he could not control you directly, but he has been exceptionally clever around sliding little suggestions deep into the mind that have ruined others… and you would not be safe alone.”
Vaggie’s hands ball into fists. “If this is some ploy to stop us using modern technology…”
There’s just this tiny flash of real, actual emotion on the Overlord’s face. An absolute look of pure hurt and frustration in his eyes, that dissolves to anger, all about that never-fading grin.
Before it gets ugly, Husk hurls himself into the conversation with the grace of the olympic champion in bellyflopping.
“He’s not. Vox is… pretty f*cking dangerous, even back when he still had that blocky cathode television for a screen. The guy’s always wanted power no matter who he needs to step on for it. Nothing stops him, and he will do anything and hurt anyone to get what he wants, Princess. Had a lot of burgeoning Overlords torn down by the picture box, he took their drive and their dignity, made ‘em all his underlings and broke them just for the hell of it.” Husk grits his teeth, feeling his claws extend. “Hell, he even tried it on me once, but I was just lucky that Alastor had dropped in to discuss something from the recent Overlord meeting at that exact moment when it started to go down… and did something that kept him away. Don’t ask what, I can’t remember. f*ckin’ eye of his messes with you proper.”
“Oh Husk, I’m so sorry… I didn’t realise.” Charlie gasps into her cupped hands.
“You can’t be sorry about something that didn’t happen, when you had no way of knowing or intervening. Like I said, Boss turned up in time to stop it. Suspect him knowing when to turn up had something to do with the giggling and clanging in my casino’s vents that week…” He glances over to the oh-so-innocent looking Niffty, who was dangling a few feet above them still. “Uh, you gonna let her down anytime soon?”
“What? Ah, yes, Niffty dear, you should have said, I forgot you were up there!” A laugh track followed the statement, as the maid touched down on solid flooring for the first time in minutes. Addressing Husker indirectly, Alastor replied coyly. “Indeed, it seems that someone heard a certain individual had also noted your recent issues with gambling with diminishing returns, and was on his way to try and force your hand… in the most literal fashion he possessed. So… perhaps Niffty and my shadow spent some time helping out the janitorial staff by clearing the smaller pests from your vents, and remaining in wait for the bigger vermin to arrive.”
“And why were you so interested in what Vox did? I thought you were all about murdering other Overlords, from what Vaggie told me… I honestly did so much sh*t back then I can’t recall most of those decades, so don’t blame her if I remembered it wrong.” Angel asked, tone light, but eyes locked onto Husk, trying to read what level of support to provide. If anyone understood being compelled to something against their will, well…
“Hmmm? Oh, as I mentioned before, we were friends once, but the greedy fool went too far, and then we weren’t. The Overlords I added to the studio audience were… of a much different kind to the ones that currently rule, I can assure you. This hotel would have been under siege every second of every day had they survived… but Husker? Well, he was a bit of a friend; much like Zestial and Carmilla really. I never had cause to dethrone them and we… got along well enough, I suppose.”
“So you didn’t want this Box guy to hurt the Overlords you liked, huh? Hmmm, very judgy of you.” Lucifer goaded, mostly out of habit at this point. His shoulders were tensed as Alastor had yet to release Charlie, but that was Fine. He was Fine about that. He was counting to ten in his head…
“In an ideal Hell, he would be part of the broadcast by now, but unfortunately our abilities are of a similar wavelength form, and it makes it difficult to integrate him in. I cannot risk him finding a way to free himself if I did cram him across the airwaves; as that could very well mean the others in there learning how to piece their atoms back together and returning… which could potentially destabilise the place completely. However, at best, I can continue to harass and harangue from afar, interfering where possible to prevent him having access to particular individuals. Making things so difficult he loses interest.” Alastor shrugs, and stares directly at Charlie again.
“Which is why I must reiterate, my dear, do not find yourself alone with the man. I understand he is even sliding his little ideas into the heads of Goetia recently… and while you are an extremely strong young woman that we are all very proud of, dear Charlotte… you are remarkably less cynical and guarded than most of Hell’s population. Exactly the opportunity he would look for, and exploit, to get to your father. You are a conduit to everything he has ever wanted in this place, and I would not trust him not to take advantage of that… by coercion or force as necessary.”
“Oh yeah, like you’ve been such a sparkling example of trust this whole time…” Lucifer retorts, delighted to see the other pull away from Charlie as if burned. There is a strangely calculating anger in the gaze that meets his own, which intrigues and repulses in equal measure.
“Rest assured, my little Prince of Lies, that if I have any hidden motives for engaging in this Hotel project, know that they are not actively detrimental to your daughter’s ongoing wellbeing to the best of my knowledge.” There’s the slightest flare of threads around the grin, that really doesn’t sit well with Lucifer. The wording was so… specific.
Charlie looks uneasily at Vaggie, and rubs her elbow in discomfort. “Hey, look… I can’t just cancel at this time. They’re probably halfway here already. But… maybe it’ll be fine? And I kinda did promise it’d be one on one…”
Husk was about to yank his fur out. “Charlie, you’re the f*ckin’ Princess of Hell, if you change your mind then all of the 7 rings just has to get with the program. You can be rude to this guy. You don’t need our permission to stand up for yourself, but I’m giving it, if you need to hear it. Tell the Vees to go f*ck themselves.”
“I know, I just don’t want to be the person using their power to push others into being uncomfortable…”
“But you’d let yourself be uncomfortable instead? f*ck that, toots. Just tell him where ta stick it. Val sure f*ckin’ does t’me all the time. Hah!” Angel adds, winking and doing a seductive little wave at Lucifer, who flushes golden. Niffty’s grin widens in a way that should have alarmed anyone paying attention at the exchange.
Alastor sighs, straightening himself until he towered over Charlie and tilted his head, radio dials flashing. “Then you have my sincerest apologies, Charlotte, but if you will not protect yourself… I will be forced to enact that little favour you owe to do it for you.”
With a flick of his clawed hand, the glowing chain between their wrists flared to life, and he snatched at the swaying length as Lucifer snarled into demonic form. “Charlotte Morningstar, for the favour you owe to myself upon our deal on the day of Extermination, you will not at any time be alone in a room or any other location with Sovereign Overlord Vox to the best of your ability, and you will close your ears to his hypnotic influence where possible if trapped in such a scenario. Do you understand?”
“I-... but, you said I wouldn’t hurt anyone with the favour… and this might hurt his feelings!” Charlie agonises, the last pure heart in all of Hell. Disgustingly bleeding for all who would trample it. Magic flared around them, up the walls and pulsing through the air as palpable waves, as their deal was reawakened.
“Oh little Princess… who cares? This is Hell. Your feelings, your hopes and dreams and wants mean less than nothing to him. And you know what they say, don’t you? Overlords don’t have feelings, they’re all mad.” Alastor laughed in a discordant way, the sound bouncing off the walls and sending a shudder up many a spine. “Do we have an accord?”
“I-... f*ck, Al, I-... please, I need you to-...”
“Okay, I am trying so hard to be good here, but-...” Angel stage-whispers, eyes wide and mouth clearly on autopilot. Husk couldn’t really blame him, there wasn’t really an etiquette book on being a bystander to sh*t like this, it could get overwhelming when you weren’t the big cheese making the power moves. It was times like this he missed being an Overlord.
“Not now, Angel.” He grumbled, knowing what was expected of him. Niffty giggled and clambered into Angel’s lap, petting his chest fluff as some sort of comfort gesture.
“Charlotte… trust me, or refuse and I will find another favour later. We cannot wait here all day.” Alastor intones, his voice distorting around the edges, teeth clenching hard enough that thick crimson blood runs down his chin. The faint red outline of his deathmark echoes on his forehead, but as Charlie’s own horns grow out in a blaze of hellfire, she falters; Husk sees more than hears her gasp in horror as an angry slash of glowing magenta stitches made themselves known underneath the radio demon’s attire. She visibly has to retract her other hand from reaching out to touch, to ask.
“Oh Al… what are you hiding?” She breathes, takes a deep breath and steadies herself. “I will agree to your favour… but only if you tell me how that happened, and-... and where your cane is! Not a new deal, just adding to the old one where you promised me important information. And I’m choosing to ask for what’s most important to me now. Do you agree?”
“...of course you would seek more, dear. Yes, I agree.” Alastor concedes, and the room is filled with the thunderclap of a deal finally satiated. The blowback was almost physical in nature, and the air felt like it was filled with static electricity, ready to spark off at the slightest provocation.
And then Lucifer had the Radio Demon by the throat, six wings extended in pure rage and tail lashing around. “You dared to make a deal with my daughter?” he snarls, and if looks could kill, Alastor would be ash by now.
“Did you want a stepstool to make it easier to reach… little majesty?” Alastor choked out around a laugh, and his studio audience filled in the rest of the sound. Blood dripped onto the pristine white sleeves from Alastor’s chin, and Lucifer grimaced in overt disgust.
“Dad, release him right now!” Charlie shouted, yanking at the King’s hands. “Let him go or I’ll-... I’ll ban you from the hotel!”
That caught him off-guard, and his grip slackened enough for Alastor to bat his hands away.
“What? But duckling, he-... he made a deal with you and you know he could have made you do anything with it! I’m well within my rights to incinerate the f*cker, Char-char!”
“No, Dad… I know you’re angry, but you need to listen. Alastor didn’t even want my soul when I offered it, it was just a straight up favour for a favour type of deal.” Charlie inhaled deeply, gathering herself. “At the time… sure, I was a little hurt that Al wouldn’t just give up the secret about the angelic weapons just because we were friends. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense why he asked for something. I know you and mum sheltered me a lot, like a LOT when I was growing up in the palace, but one of the base lessons I’ve learned out here is that you can’t just give away big secrets for free. If someone else finds out, they consider the sharer compromised or weak, which is ridiculous because friends should be able to share, right? Anyway, turns out that for a deal… you make a little loophole, you share that information without any impact to your status. There’s so many wriggly little rules and regulations and expectations out here in Hell that I never expected to come across, Dad… and I’m glad I have the people at the hotel to help me understand it because it’s so so SOOOOOOOOOOO confusing at times!”
Charlie pauses, panting; angling her body between Lucifer and Alastor until the former backs off with his hands raised in surrender. She smiles warmly, eyes brimming with tears. “Thanks Dad, I know you don’t really understand, but… everyone here, including Al, is important to me. And I’d like to think they think I’m important to them too…”
“Of course we do, Charlie, you see me ruinin’ my manicures fighting exorcists for just anybody down here?” Angel jokes, just to break the weird tension of the room. Husk is gently trying to pry a rather squished Niffty from his tertiary arms, she’s starting to make concerning squeaky toy noises that he’s not sure are normal for the little sinner as Angel’s anxiety rises.
“Yeah, what he said.” Husk adds, feeling like he’s only got so much brainpower right now and it’s currently focused on keeping the little maid alive. His tail flicks in uncertainty, ears folding down. “I mean, we literally went to war for you and you went to war for us, Princess… unless you wanna get matching tattoos or get like…six way married, or seven if you include Cherri… I dunno what else you think we can do to show our commitment.”
There’s a long pause.
Lucifer points a finger at Charlie. “Don’t even think about it.”
She bursts out laughing. This whole evening had just gone from odd to bizarre to violent and now it was straight up ridiculously dramatic.
“Oh Dad, you couldn’t stop me if you tried…” She sighed fondly, clearly enjoying the way the King’s face blanched. “About the tattoos, not the marriage thing. We’d need waaaaay more thrones and royal titles for tha-... I’m kidding! Kidding! But seriously… I’m an adult, Dad. That’s why I run the hotel, why I made the deal and why I’m talking this out with you rather than hurling you out the door for hurting my other friend-slash-oddly-endeering-fatherish-figure. Which he is, kinda, and that’s why I’m invested in keeping his stubborn ass alive as well.”
So saying, Charlie rounds on the Radio Demon, prodding him dead on the centre of where she saw the stitches. “And YOU, owe me an explanation for these! That’s the deal! C’mon, I’m waiting…”
Alastor definitely looked like a deer in headlights for a moment there, which was objectively hilarious to Husk, who had put up with this man’s shenanigans for literal f*cking decades by now and only seen him pulled up short like this by Rosie once or twice before. It was like catharsis and schadenfreude all mixed up together in one glorious little present.
“Well now, dear, I did say I would… but I don’t recall specifying the When.” Of course the f*cker tried to weasel his way out of it.
Anger flares over the Princess’s face for a second before subsiding into abject hurt. Eyes tearing up in open distress at the lack of trust, and worry for someone she cared for; it was a potent look she could use to cripple armies if Charlie had ever been the kind to think along the lines of psychological warfare.
“Please, don’t do that. I need you and everyone else to be okay. Can you just tell me…?” Charlie asks, her tone quiet, without the royal command she could absolutely imbue to force a response. That would only incite further resistance and they both knew it.
With a full body sigh, the Overlord’s ears flattened backwards against his skull. “If you insist, Charlotte… though I strongly suspect the information is utterly useless to you, and in future you should request something far more pertinent in negotiations. My microphone was severed by Adam, after he broke the shield, and the pieces are in my radio tower for safekeeping at this time until they are able to be recombined.”
“Annnnnnnd…?” The clever girl prompts, willing to physically drag the truth from the Overlord with her bare hands as needed.
“And in the moment that self-righteous buffoon broke it with his hideous guitar amalgamation, I was caught off guard enough that he was able to strike a second time. With my staff damaged, I could only call on my shadows to get free of the entanglement before he could finish the job… which, I fully understand was not ideal or part of our initial battle plans, as the overconfident fool immediately went after you. Placing you at risk and caught unawares.”
The snarky, ‘Hah, weak!’ from Lucifer went ignored by most present.
And then the fearsome Overlord has an armful of Princess, who seemed determined to crush his ribs to absolute powder. “No, no, that was the right thing to do! I never wanted any of you to die for me, and I’m so pleased you made it out alive, because when he came after me on the battlefield I thought-... and then when we lost Sir Pentious… there was so much going on. But I should have looked harder afterwards!”
“Nonsense, Charlotte, you had an entire army to check in on when things ended, and it worked out well in the end. Besides, Rosie is excellent with her patchwork skills…and also her tattooing… should that ever be relevant.” His conspiratorial tone was belied by the direct wink the sinner gave to Lucifer. “Are you satisfied with the information or do you want anything else while we’re at it? Date of death? Name of my first pet alligator? Favourite colour? Hmmm, how about the true and unedited version of how Mimzy and I killed eighteen repulsive people in one night while quite drunk and never did completely remember where we buried them all…?”
“Ah, ha ha… hah… noooooooooo, thank you though.” Charlotte extricated herself politely.
Vaggie looked mildly green. “Please tell me you didn’t put any of the bodies in the hotel grounds.”
“Hmmm? Oh, no Vagatha you misunderstood, those shenanigans were Earth-based. Mimzy was such a slight little thing back then, but she could carry several corpses at once, absolutely excellent core strength.” He replied, absently. “You should see her benchpress a buick, some time, it always puts debtors off approaching her. Well… usually. Hah!”
Charlie turns to her father. “Daaaaaaaaaad…?”
“I don’t know what it is, but if it involves that f*cker, the answer is no.” Lucifer grumbles. “This is insane! I came for a nice dinner and then he gets spooky about you having a f*cking meeting with some TV guy, and then I find out you have a deal with this guy! And now you want me to what, heal his ungrateful ass?”
“Charlotte, I most profess I will quite literally and unequivocally choose second death if the alternative is your father making any additional contact with my person.” Alastor interjects, pulling away and returning to the bar where Husk had two fingers of rye waiting for him.
Angel had released Niffty, and she wriggled eagerly from his lap onto Alastor’s shoulder. “Now we really must be going before we end up late, you know Rosie is one for being punctual… and that onerous witch Susan is always looking for something to pass judgement on. And I, for one, am disinclined to restrain my impulse to hurl the bitch right through Heaven’s gates if she tries anything this evening. Hah!”
Angel made a choice noise as he spluttered in response to the statement, like a goose trapped in a washing machine.
Charlie paused a moment, mentally visualising the scenario, and burst out laughing. “Oh my gosh, YES, that would be so funny! Oh no, that was so mean! Vaggie, am I a bad person?”
Lucifer frog blinks, clearly seeing his darling’s distress, and decides the only course of action is to fall into the flow of things.
“What? This is what you call good role modelling to Charlie? Talking about hurling women into other dimensions? What kind of pseudo parental figure are you?” Lucifer snaps, tone excruciatingly serious with only the slightest quaver of mirth to indicate he was starting to lean into this whole bizarre charade. If only for Charlie’s sake. “I think we’re going to need to talk custody after the divorce!”
Alastor feigns hurt, placing a hand to his chest like a grand dame hearing something untoward, and grinning viciously at Lucifer to see if the other would raise the stakes. “Divorce, your majesty? You haven’t even made an honest demon of me yet!”
“Pfft, if I could make an honest demon outta you, we’d be yeeting you Heavenward instead of this Susan woman. Ain’t that right, Char-char?” Lucifer elbows his now-giggling daughter, who is held up solely by virtue of her equally amused girlfriend’s arms about her.
“Stop, stop you’re killing me!” Wheezed the Princess, and her delight really does light up the room. Husk can feel the brightness, as strange as it sounds, sweeping over them all.
When the moment petered out, it was the King who broke the stillness.
“Alright, duckling, I’ll help the deer out… for you. But I’m still mad about that deal, that can’t happen again… even if this one time, against all odds and precedent, Alastor used it to keep you safe. You’re the Princess of Hell, any leverage you give someone, from hellborn to goetia, is going to have some level of ramification for everyone. He could have asked you to kill me, or to hand over your throne, or pass a law making it illegal to be under six foot tall, or ask you to wage war on Heaven, and the deal would make you do it. You just don’t know what someone will do with an open-ended option in their hands!”
“It’s quite true, Charlotte, which is why we talked about you running any deals past me, or even Husker here, before you commit. There are many… pitfalls… that can catch the unwary.” Alastor added, unusually helpfully. “A deal should be extremely, to the point of frustration, specific about what both parties want and will receive or give, Charlotte. Never leave a loophole where possible.”
“I know, I know… I will. If that ever comes up again, that is.” Charlie waves them off.
Something dark winds around Charlotte’s lower limbs, and when she looks down it’s Alastor’s shadow, tugging insistently at her red slacks. The other shadowy limb is pointing at the doors in some trepidation.
“I think our chance to skip out before Vox arrived is well and truly gone.” Husk sighed, already tensing for whatever was about to go down. Angel went rigid in his seat, a natural anxiety when the boss of his boss was lurking in the periphery, ready to advise any infraction to Val for punishment.
“Charlotte, if at all possible, try to have the other person with you remain out of his direct line of sight when you speak with Vox. If you must continue and refuse to turn him away at the door. It disrupts his ability to get you both onside, and perhaps if someone has angelic steel at his processing column which you will locate at this juncture of the spine,” Alastor points to her nape. “He will be less likely to try something. Nor, if struck correctly, will he be capable of anything more than sputtering his last on the carpet.” Alastor adds, looking directly at Vaggie the entire time he spoke.
No one has a chance to respond before an ominous series of knocks struck the wooden doors, announcing that time had finally run out.
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