Chapter Text
Blood red heels clacked upon maroon flooring. Whispers—tucked away in shadows—delivered secrets at the same time. Who was where. Who did what. Who needed what. A constant stream of chatter with grainy and garbled voices for him and him alone. The sound was familiar to him. The closest to home. To the swamp, the bayou, the voodoo. It reminded him of his rise, and his more…frowned upon, acts of his lifetime. As short as it was, Alastor would not change a single thing.
But the shadows spoke of a most, entertaining, delight. A new actor for the stage of their dearly damned existence. The whispers told of a father. One struck down and left blind to wander his descendants most depraved facilities.
Alastor could admit some disappointment in the all mighty with the news. He himself wouldn’t be so merciful as to allow the man to be blind of all things. Especially not during his stay in hell. If this is to be punishment, why not loop to the man how his first born beat the other with a rock. Or! Or~ how the christian sisters are portrated. Subject to the systems and cruelties of men who should be their brothers, their equals. Their agencies bound by contract, their dignity, bodies, and very minds as well. How people—his sons and daughters—escape the world through the bottle, the crack, the dollar. How some are bound in chains to work for eternity. Not even death itself providing release.
Perhaps dear God is a coward. But, supposedly the infinite is “all-seeing” and “all-knowing”. So, perhaps there’s a piece of the puzzle left to be found…
But why would I try and solve something as futile and convoluted as that old bastard’s plot.
The princess was left dizzied and fainting when Alastor stepped into the main hall. It would seem the news of the doorman's fall took the wind out of her sails.
As much as Alastor would enjoy a broadcast of delectable despair, this one wasn’t ripe yet. She hadn’t even had the moment to rise to her top. How could she fall already?
No, no, no, no, no. She cannot. That’s what I decree.
“So-” The darling hotel owner said, huffing air like she needed a little paper bag, “So-lemme see if I got this right. You-Adam-You’re Adam. Head Exorcist—”
“Former.”
“Riiiight~ Former Head Exorcist, and you—who agreed to help me with my idea—and spoke to the Seraphim—just got—what—Kicked out! Just like that?!”
“Well, there is quite a bit feeding into it. You see, I had just completed my match against Ze—”
“Oh my god. Oh-my-god, Ohmygod, what are we going to do?!” She’s pacing now. “You were supposed to be our voice in heaven! You were supposed to comeback to me! With how to redeem sinners!”
“As I am aware, but as I have been trying to tell you. I do not know how, and perhaps the ori—”
“URGHHHHH! I can’t believe this! Just my luck! Right as everything seemed to start turning up after the whole Killjoy debacle—!”
“Killjoy?”
“Don’t ask.” Their whiskered barman interjected
“Now! Now. I have a fallen angel in my rehabilitation hotel. All because I wanted to help some of my people!”
“Well, I wouldn’t take my being here as such a bad thing—”
“Oh my god, whats dad gonna say.” Oh the dread on her face was just a delight. Alastor almost wished he could stay, maybe with a bit of popcorn? A pop can? Some venison perhaps? “He told me this wasn’t a good idea but I just had to try, didn’t I? Just had to go and ‘do my best’. Oh god! Now relations with the annals of Heaven can’t be any worse!”
“Well. I can’t exactly refute that—”
Hmm? Now that is interesting.
“URGHHHHH!!!”
Although, perhaps an investigation for later in the day. The overlords still saw fit to invite him after all. As mother would say! One must always be punctual.
Alastor made his way to the main entrance, intent to stroll around hell proper before the meeting. It has been too long since he’s had some fun.
“And where do you think you’re going? Alastor?”
Of course. Little miss Vagina needed to catch on.
“Hmm? Oh do you mean me?”
“Claro I mean you. Where are you going? You should be trying to help.”
“Oh but I am helping, see! All these wonderful staff, my compadre’s working ‘round the clock security. There’s no place but the king’s castle that’s safer! So~ Let me be on my way.”
“Okay. I see your point, but we’re kind-of in a crisis here. Charlie’s freaking ou—”
“So I can see.” her deadly stare was oh so cute! Like the fly on a corpse.
“Charlie’s freaking. Out. And We still need someone to handle Sir Pentious while we get everything stable. So can you, maybe—”
“If you think I would lower myself to a babysitter for our serpentine roach there, ho~ ho~ you have me sorely confused for another.”
The way Virginia grit her teeth made his smile grow just an inch wider. Unfortunately, she had the good sense to compose herself, “Okay. I get it, you do a lot. I appreciate it, we all do. Could you just…take care of the eggs then?”
“Eggs?”
Sure enough, four idiotic egg, human…things, had come along at the mention. I’d sooner devour them with a side of lamb…
“Fine.”
“Thank you.”
Alastor made his way, each egg following as ducklings would. He could hear crying behind him, so perhaps not all was lost when he accepted the request.
Sure enough, Hell was in fact in Hell. Crack whores were hugging corners looking for their next check. Gunmen and looters ran across the street, sometimes competing, sometimes cooperating. Some were defending their businesses—Scams in truth—but who was he to judge! Murder and profit go hand in hand! As Alastor made his way, he found one or three cherished fools who thought to threaten him.
The shadows enjoyed the snack.
He reached the executive office of Carmine Industries soon enough. Imagine his surprise when a shadow of a different shade apparated to greet him. Just out the front door!
“Alastor, my, my. How long has it been. Thy crimson seems pristine as sickle red.” The Shade began, his mouth an ever-present lime green. Teeth forgotten, tongue forgotten, just a lime green glow shaped with skin to form a sinister grin, and four arachnid eyes.
They walked as they talked and Alastor chuckled, “Zestial, how art thine woes? Hm? Hath the inferno nicked thine prestige?”
The Arachnid demon chuckled. His signature top-hat and feather shook with his cloaked shoulders. “All is well upon mine own, Alastor. But we must return to thee. Some, solemn fellows surely, claim thee to have taken to…holy-aims? Then there is this folly with The King’s daughter? Is thy mind possessed perhaps?”
“Oh no! Who would dare claim such a thing. Me? With Jehovah’s delights! Heaven’s no!”
Zestial squinted. His glowing eyes burned a bit brighter. Attempting to decipher some chink in his armor. But a smile would be all he found.
“Very well oh Rah-dio. Thy mind remains a mystery, even to one as old as I.”
“Oh please don’t sound so surprised sir spider. You know well and good how… puzzling, the mind can be.”
“Here-here!” Zestial concurred as the two split to find their seats within the Carmine hall.
The building was dreadfully modern to Alastor. With flat walls of a glossy white, a grey concrete floor—polished to perfection. A table of a darker shade and rectangular with an ever-long length. it would serve for all the guests, and the chairs were certainly comfortable. But Alastor preferred Art-Deco over Minimalist pragmatism.
Yet, the attendees have all arrived, and Alastor found himself beside an old friend. Miss-Darling-Cannibal Rosie, Mayoral regent of the Cannibals within the pentagram. Her Sunday hat served to shade her pale face. A Grandiose work of crimson, salmon pink, and blacks.
Now here sits a woman of taste!
A glance across the room revealed many a unique form. For whatever reason God-above was creative in his design for their denizen forms. A great neon pink and green reptile the size of a truck. A Dullahan straight from legend, with azure flames wrapping around a skull and antlers. A…Straw-man—Cactus—Cowboy thing. Alastor wasn’t sure! But that particular overlord was constantly clashing with another that he couldn’t quite describe either. Ultimately, so long as they kept each other in check they weren’t worth his time.
Wouldn’t even be a decent meal. Too skinny.
Alastor spent the time chatting to Rosie about whatever he’d missed during his departure from the wide-pentagram. How things were in Cannibal Town. How Hell has shaken up since the territory take downs that follow exterminations. The day-to-day goings and more.
But then, the woman of the hour arrived.
Carmilla Carmine.
The weapons dealer stepped into the hall with a command Alastor balked at. It wasn’t exactly misplaced pride, but it was beginning to grow tedious. She walked with silver-white hair styled into twin spikes, spikes that stabbed toward the sky. Her humanoid form carried a twin set of cherry red sclera and yellowed pupils. Yet, her skin was a pale purple and her arms ballooned at what was the forearm. The oversized and clawed hands proposed power, but Alastor knew it was her legs that packed the punch. Even now, they carried her weight upon the tips of ballerina slippers. White ribbons wrapped around solid black pants and a suit of a matching color.
But she couldn’t kill him. None of these fools could.
Alastor watched as she sat at the head of the table, two women behind her. Assistants? Perhaps. But too similar to her make.
Daughters then.
“I welcome you all, Sovereign Overlords. In hope that we might discuss measures to minimize the damage done by the Exterminations of next year. Each and every one of you control millions of souls within the pentagram, and upon our findings we found this recent extermination to be particularly vile. The Archangel himself prolonged the visit to drive the knife further. The next extermination could well be worse, decreasing the soul counts by 16% or more. Unless we come to countermeasures.”
“16%? Wha’s that mean?”
How exactly, does one become an overlord without knowledge of percents?
It was the cowboy one who spoke.
“How many souls do ya’ got man.” The reptile made to explain.
“By last count... somethin’ ‘round 20 million why?”
“yeah he ain’t lyin’.” Said the other one. The red-white, lizard-fox-imp-thing.
“Why would I be lyin’ now?” The cowboy replied, his glare leveled on the other.
“Who’s to say, maybe you’re scared we'll cap ya’ on the next round. Have to look strong an’ all that.”
“Oh you bastard, just you wait—!”
“—Multiply that by like. 0.16 or somethin’ and that's how many of those 20 mil’ you’re lookin to lose.” The reptile interjected.
With a breath through the the jaw, the cowboy spoke again, “But how’d ya multiply a point-16. The hell even is a—”
“Thank you! Ms. Zeezi and Mr. Prick. Now. Can we return to the topic at hand?”
Silence answered, so Carmine continued.
“I’d prefer to ask for a formal redraw of our territories—” Every glare leveled to her in reply, “—But I am more than aware of the tradition and satisfaction that comes from our wagers.
So instead, what I might propose are a set of countermeasures. A pooling of resources for when the exterminations arrive again. Perhaps, even, some investment into technologies, so that we might once and for all end the exorcist scourge that befalls our territories.”
Carmine left her arms open, allowing the floor for inquiry. The first to follow was The Maestro, bone jaw clattering.
“I for one, would be open to the development of countermeasures. For too long have the annals of Heaven had their way. All that I ask is for a bit of tranquility. Perhaps, with a bit of security, I might achieve that?”
“Certainly Maestro.” Carmine replied, “For your particular task, I would suggest some innovations on defense perhaps? Their have been some breakthroughs on research that—”
“Ehh, I don’t think that’s such a good look.” interjected Zeezi.
“How so?” The Maestro questioned, “Is it not your delights that face the scourge in full? Defenses would surely allow for the dance to carry for decades.”
“Yeah, who the hell wants to party with eternity on the line, ya’know. But the way this is shakin’ up, Carmine just wants some new sales buffs. Ain’t that right? Who’s building these damn defenses anyhow? Who’s got the mulla, the factories, the science to get that done? Carmine.”
“I won’t deny playing a large part Ms. Zeezi, and as you put it, I gain considerable stock value from the research into angel anatomy, arms, and armors.”
“Pot-meet-kettle.”
“…That is not how that saying is used—Anyhow, all of you, are core investors within the company as well, we all have had relations both tenuous and amicable that have worked for all of us. Why distrust my confidence now?”
“Mayhaps, Lady Carmine, one could present a sample of thy plan. Something which we might use to gauge thine intentions perhaps?” Zestial you sly spider. You’ve already been bought.
“Excellent idea Zestial. Clara, if you could please.”
At her back, and with the press of a button, a projector blanket came down from the ceiling. The white sheet displayed a blueprint of an underground complex. A bunker, like from The Great War. Only, modern. Alastor almost licked the shine of his teeth recalling those early days.
Orphans, Poor Men. Traumas a plenty. Oh the invention.
Truly no one could kill man better than other men. The ripples from that event were felt even after his living days.
“What we have hear is a proposed prototype of the Raphael-Fortines. A Bunker set with all the latest in Carmine Columbine technology. Arms, storage, and walls to house better than 2 million without issue. This bunker also stands with compatible technological renovations—meaning the user can install a personal security system, or commission one from Vox Tech with little hassle in installation.”
Alastor’s dear seatmate raised a demure hand, and with a nod from Carmine, she answered, “Now, Carmine, honey. You’ve been in this game a long time. You and I both came up with the same era. Surely, you can imagine the—oh whats the word?”
“Hesitance.” Alastor supplied.
“Oh thank you darling—Yes, Hesitance, with building anything—and I mean anything from another overlord on our sacred grounds. To keep us in this beautiful hell we’ve crafted for ourselves. For all I know—and I’m not saying you would dear, I know you’re made of sterner stuff —but this could easily put us up for the angel blade next year.”
“A pity. Ms.Rosie. I had hoped you would appreciate the gains over the risks with this model.”
“Its too drab, darling. I’d rather stick to our swords and sporks thank you.”
“Hmm. I can work with that. As apart of investment, I’m certain Carmine Industries would be willing to offer a few premiums to any bulk sales on Angelic Weaponry.”
“Swords and sporks darling. Swords and sporks.”
“The fuck that mean? Why are you repeating that?” asked Ratchet.
“She wants the angelic spears dumb-ass.” replied Prick.
“I’ll kill you.”
“Come and try it.”
“Well, I thought we came to talk countermeasures, not sales pitches. SO how about we get back to that, hmm?” replied a short twin pigtailed woman. Her hair was crimson and black spun in a way to reveal elaborate designs. Her skin was a cacao, with stitching near her painted lips and lacking nose.
“Ms.Velvette. Do you have something you’d like to add? And where are your associates if I might ask? I recall inviting all of the Vees to attend.”
“Oh yeah, ‘bout that, they ain’t comin. But don’t worry, I’m 'ere to represent.”
“Wonderful.” Carmine looked as though she swallowed a lemon whole.
“I know right. Anyway, babes, I think we shouldn’t be looking for something as ridiculous as defense if we're planning to fight off some angels. We got the might of all of hell right ‘ere, and each and everyone of you know damn well there’s more bad than good on earth.”
“You’d have us seek war? Have you forgotten the scripture? The last to defy Jehovah’s demand?” Zestial asked.
“Our dearly beloved King was out numbered and out gunned. And I’ll not take the propaganda piece from a ‘prophet’ as truth, thanks.”
“Yet who was it that wrote such scripture, hmm? The victors. Not once have we damned souls been able to fell a single angel even in self-defense. How then, are we to invent methods of attack with a foe never to fall in an age?”
“You’re info’s outdated old man. The Vees and I found something real interesting when we went scavenging this year. Something that’ll definitely shake things up for our go around with the big man.”
“Hmph. Do tell.”
The ragdoll revealed her hand, tossing a severed head onto the center of the table. The head bore twin horns of solid black, a holy outline of pure white faded to black upon a sinister grin with one eye crossed out.
An exorcist?! In the flesh!
“Ho ho! Now that is something. How’d you come across this little article Violette, hmm?” Alastor had to ask. Even he had been put on the run from these winged bastards. They were immortal, impervious, and charged relentlessly in righteous fury.
“It’s Velvette, red. I ain’t the one to kill the girl, shit outta luck for that. But we found ‘em rotting away in one of the points between ‘ere and Cannibal Town. Makes ya’ wonder who finally did the bastard in though? Hmm? Any takers?”
Alastor followed Violet’s gaze. Zeroed directly on Carmine. The question laid out thick for an answer.
“What are you implying? That I was the one to kill it?”
“If the shoe fits love. You are the resident innovator and angelic weapon dealer no? Then you call this meeting? After so many exterminations. All for some 16%? Makes a girl wonder~.”
“I was not the one to kill it.”
“Hmm sure. Then it was Rosie here who did the deed then.”
“Oh heavens no, don’t think I would be stupid enough to try such a thing! I’ll admit I’ve always wondered what a delight angel flesh would be, but I always assumed it would be much too tough for my diet. Better to stick to human and sinner thank you.”
“Well there ya’ have it, and I for one would trust lady cannibal’s tastes, wouldn’t you?”
Oh ho to play with fire. Alastor watched as Carmine and Velvette bore into one another. The tension seemed to hang onto the air, weighing them all down and ready to blow. Alastor gripped his staff with a renewed vigor, picking The Maestro for his opponent if things became deadly. As he glanced around, Alastor noted everyone else doing the same. Their opponents set, the moment the tension fell. The perfect opportunity for a power grab.
“One must wonder, Lady Velvette, if this is the head of a famed exorcist as thou claimeth in truth.” Zestial spoke, and like a spell, the tension lifted.
“Wha—? Are you going blind with four-eyes old man? The fuck do you think the thing on the table is then?”
“I assure thee, I am well in my sight. But I will claim again, none, not I in all my years, nor any other at this table, have uncovered a felled exorcist. Surely, each and all hath clashed with one of the scourges in our time of rule?”
The overlords murmured agreement, even Alastor nodded, “ Yet, not a one can claim the might to slay the foe. All, but the king, with Jehovah’s blessing, could attest to such. A direct creation.”
“And? Just because it ain’t happen yet don’t mean it couldn’t?”
“Surely then, with the pomp and prodigy of Heaven itself, that the annals might retaliate upon the loss of their own. The extermination date perhaps? Promises of further carnage? Perhaps the calling of an Archangel? Mayhap King Magne would step down to strike us himself, at Jehovah’s command.”
“Could be they wanna keep it quiet? Maybe, the pompous muppets have gotten so full of it, they haven’t even noticed one of their girls gone missing? Or maybe, we keep asking questions like this and we miss the point of whats in front of us?”
“Just so, Lady Velvette. We do not know what Heaven is doing now, yet the felled is before us. The King could be negotiating as we speak. We know too little, and see too little consequence. Better—in mine eyes—to bear witness, and prepare.”
“But an Angel is dead. Dead. Like you said, ain't none of us seen anything like this before. We got the numbers, and even the power to kill the fuckers and get past those pearly gates! Yet, you’d rather let whatever angel is gonna come down to find their girl and—what? Let ‘em fuck us right then and there?! What we needs to be doin is prepping to swing and fast. Not just waiting for judgment.”
“I do not simply claim to fall limp Lady Velvette. My claim is to prepare. The exorcist is dead, yet we have no method, nor killer with claim. We cannot strike without knowledge, so my thought is to discover that knowledge. Let us find it, and with enough resources might be a discovery comes before holy men raise arms. If we do find it…then we might consider attack once more.”
“We ‘ave a fuckin’ method. The killer’s sittin’ to your fucking left, you cunt!”
Alastor wished he could stir the pot. But during the argument a grand point was raised. The Elders are not so incompetent as to miss a single soul. For there to be an angel who didn’t return, an investigation would surely follow. Who then, would be the chosen…
The head exorcist. With a line of trust to extend his leash…
Well, Well, Well, dear father…How coy of you.
Alastor wondered what to do with that knowledge. If it was truly as he surmised? He needed more time to figure it out.
“As I have said, Velvette, I make no claims to the killing of any Exorcist. But Zestial and you speak some sense.”
“Oh Fuck off! You did it! I know you did, they know you did, and soon Heaven will too.”
“Accuse me all you like, but the fact remains we must be proactive, and without knowing the circumstances of this kill, we need methods to survive the aftermath.” Carmine turned to address the room, “I would like all of you to reconsider your reservations to my offer. While my claims were based on the data, what Velvette has presented us is no less than a catastrophe for the damned. Who knows how the exterminations are going to be with a felled angel? How many will they kill? At what point will they stop for one of their own? We must be ready, and I hope you all will help me. If not for profit, then for our collective security.” Carmine’s hand stretched out to begin a rally. A counting of the hands to join her in a new rush of defensive measures and research. Hopefully with some discovery to follow.
The first to raise their hand was Zestial. The Maestro followed. Then came Prick. Rosie, Zeezi, and finally Ratchet. The only three to abstain were Alastor, Velvette, and The Eldritch Family—who failed to attend the meeting all together.
“Wonderful. I will contact you all at a later date with the specifics, but I see nothing else to talk about. This meeting is adjourned. Alastor, if you could please stay a moment.”
“Oh? And what could you have with little ol’ me?”
“Will you stay?”
“Hmm…Probably.”
“Then I will answer after.”
“You..bitch. You’ll leave us all out to dry.” Velvette sneered.
“The Vees can invest in these projects at anytime Velvette. I would beg you reconsider your accusations and join us in our preparations.”
Velvette didn’t have a word to say as she rushed out the room. The rest of the Overlords left in short order. Not in immediate concern or panic, but just as they entered, making conversation among one another.
Rosie laid a sharp hand upon Alastor’s arm, when he looked up, her smile was all teeth. With the black voids she called eyes boring into his crimson own. She left quickly with a cordial goodbye that Alastor returned.
For whatever reason, Zestial was here as well.
“Oh dear spider, what are you still doing here? I thought the meeting was over?”
Zestial chuckled, his voice echoed in a deep and rich tone, “ Oh Alastor. I am certain you have seen through our little ploy no? My allegiance with Lady Carmine.”
“Oh of course I did. If I didn’t know any better I’d assume you were an item or something.”
“Nothing of that sort is happening, Radio Demon.” Carmine interjected.
“Aw poo, and I had some good money on that. So, what do you want? We all are very busy I’m sure.”
Carmine and Zestial looked to one another then back at him. A moment of silent discussion, a conversation for them and them alone.
Carmine spoke first, “I was, expectant…Yes, expectant of The Vees abstinence from my projects. I had hoped to win them over with a few more prototype plans we had prepared, yet, it is clear we lost ourselves near the middle of this…crisis.”
“Clearly, but do get to the point dear? I have a hotel to run.”
“Very well…why would you not contribute?”
“where has thou been? For the past seven years.” Zestial added.
“ Well, Zestial, Sir Spider, it was but a sabbatical. My work was growing stale and I needed something to…juice it up! So I went exploring, found some dearly departed and returned. Simple really.”
“And your abstinence?”
“Well. Darling Lady Carmine, I think it quite clear we all have dirty little secrets we'd like to keep no? All you really need to know is that I won't partake in your little plan hm?”
“I suppose…” She needed to think. A hand pinched her chin as she turned to gaze out the window. Hell was shaded in a sea of maroon. From where they all sat, you could make out most of Hell and its pentagram districts. Vox blue with a neon colored skyline. Rosie’s Cannibal town and its suburban sprawl. At the center lay a clock-tower. Overlooking the rest of hell with a bright white, gold, and sky blue coloring. Its churning digits and clock face set to hail the next extermination.
The date unchanged.
When Carmine turned away, Alastor set his eyes to her, “Then why not a different offer. One made especially for you.” she said.
“Oh? Do tell~” Alastor chuckled.
"I wager, that your sabbatical has left you weakened on the Overlord stage. With Vox at the head of an Overlord coalition and his media empire, I believe he has largely taken what was once your territory.”
Alastor only smiled. Whether in glee or lie…Alastor was confident it couldn't be said.
“Perhaps then, the question is not that you do not wish to participate. It is that you can't.”
“Hmm, yet that isn't quite right either Madam Carmine.”
“Oh? Pray tell?”
“While there is no doubt that my territory has long been absorbed by the Vees. I would dare remind you, a madam such as yourself, capital is not only in land.”
“On that we agree, and so I'd like to outline a different way you might contribute, difficulties or not.”
“Oh yes? And what would I possibly have to do? Do a little dance? Sing a little song?”
“Zestial brought a good point forward. We don't know what Heaven is planning, with the discovery of the dead exorcist. If Velvette of all sinners could present the head, no doubt Heaven knew long beforehand. Thus, what is heaven planning? What do they want? Only two souls I can think of could possibly know that answer.”
“Magne.”
“King Magne. Place your disrespect in different halls Alastor. They claim he still listens.” Zestial warned.
“And they claim God in heaven can see us even now, I'd rather not believe the idea of an old man watching me bathe, would you?” Alastor turned his gaze to Carmine, “So that is your offer? For me to be your little spy on the princess?”
“Would you consider it? We can do much for you in return.”
“Ha! Not a chance. But do let me know if anything comes up! I'd love to chat again!”
Alastor left without a second thought. His mind torn between deeming their doorman a detective or a defect.
The plan was working perfectly.
Sure, there were a few hiccups in entering the building. A few threats to his person as the grey-moth-girl jabbed her spear in his face. Yet, the doorman had been an excellent fool. One which paved the way to The Sly Sir Pentious achieving a room in the dearly damned hotel. A step in conducting his duties and receiving the research funding he so desired.
It was near the witching hour, the hellish red of the sky had long transitioned to the purple hues of night. As the neon and street lights of the urban sprawl brightened hell, Sir Pentious tinkered in his gift-given abode. A single room, non-too large nor too small, with four walls and a standard desk and bedding assortment.
Sir Pentious locked the wrench into one of the last bolts of his latest creation. An oval bed to which he could curl into with his egg minions beside him. As the wrench was pulled down and the bolt tightened, he heard the cry of the metal frame tightening together.
A little more, and sssleep will come to me.
The thought meant double he knew. For while the bedding was indeed a must for one as great as he. Sir Pentious was not so picky as to merely sleep within the bed offered and complete his work in the waking morn.
No, he awaited another thing as the witching hour drew close. He awaited for the moment to submit his report. He awaited for the Media Demon to call.
Sir Pentious had switched to the next bolt, nearly losing himself in his work when the call finally came through. A vibration on Sir Pentious’ wrist, one which attracted his gaze at first. Then made him jump in fright. His work forgotten, Sir Pentious scrambled to accept the call, his fingers tapping the screen once, thrice, nearly twenty times in excess. The recorder strapped to his wrist whirred into life, first with static and then the demon himself came into view.
“Alright Pentious, Wha—” The Media Demon placed a hand to his digital jaw, covering the yawn which spilled out, “—whaddaya’ got, some of us want to go to bed.”
The video demon spoke in the cadence of a reporter. A masculine tone with range in the highs and lows of vocal work. His head was polished and pristine as a royal blue flat screen. A screen which projected the eyes which saw and the mouth which spoke. He worse a vertical striped suit of navy and sky-blue. With pointed shoulders, a crimson bow-tie, and a black and red striped vest.
“Yes Ssssir. Agent Ssssir Pentious reporting—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, get on with it.” The demon waved a hand in boredom.
“A-ah, yesss…Sssir. I have sssuccesssfully infiltrated the hotel and taken note of itsss current resssidence. There is the Princesss, Her companion, A barkeep, The Radio Demon, and—”
“Yeah. Pentious. WE KNOW. The fuck do you have that’s new.”
“Ah—um. Not. Much elssse then sssir. I’ve only jussst entered the building. I hope to gather more on the morrow, garner sssome rapport with the resssidentsss here.”
“Sure yeah, you do that. Just remember, we need to know whatever the fuck Alastor is doing. Don’t worry about the other trash there.”
“But sssir there isss someone of interesst that wasssn’t in the—”
“Yadda, yadda, I don’t care, just do your job or i’ll hook you up to Shockwaves next feed package. Capiche?”
Sir Pentious failed to withhold the gulp in his throat, “Yesss Sssir.”
“Grand.”
The feed cut out with the word, and Sir Pentious was left alone in the dimming room light.
Trust.
A familiar enough concept for the first man. Easier, when those you trust are your forever wedded wife and beloved sons. The activities of The Serpent of Eden certainly placed that trust in question, but his held firm. There was no doubt to that in his eyes, and as Eve told it, she felt similar.
That trust did not extend so easily to one who supposedly attacked his place of employment just before his arrival.
That trust also did not extend to poor Adam himself, as Vaggie seemed hellbent upon keeping at least one eye on his person at all times.
He presumed it was Vaggie, he could only feel the weight of her gaze, and hear the tension behind her choice of words.
So when Princess Morningstar—or was it Magne? I have heard both—wished to build the bonds of trust within the occupants of the hotel, Adam was indifferent to the matter.
“So everyone!” Princess Morningstar opened, her cheer evident in her tone, “I’ve notice some tension between some of our newer residents, and our lovely staff. But, this is a place for open arms and second chances. SO! While some of us have certainly made mistakes in the past, it is important for us all to work past that, so that we all might climb higher! Right?!”
The silence that followed made Adam wince.
“Right!” Quite the will. If nothing else. “So, I think what we need is to work through our differences and build a bond that’ll last as long as our stay here! With that in mind please can I have a volunteer for an exercise?”
Adam craned his ears for any movement. A rustle of cloth and the leather of the couch, some footsteps pressing against the polished tile flooring. Luckily, he heard not footsteps but a slither drag across the tile and onto carpet.
“I would be a willing Volunteer Lady—”
“Great! Thank you so much Sir Pentious.”
“O-oh, of course.”
“So, since its our first exercise, we’ll start small, just a trust fall. All you have to do, is turn your back to me, close your eyes, and fall backward. The goal is for me to catch you, and for you to trust me in catching you. Simple right?”
The Sir Pentious hissed. Whether a facet of his serpentine make or in hesitance, Adam failed to discern. But Sir Pentious turned regardless. When the activity was done, there was no thump along the floor. So The Princess must have followed through upon her promise.
“Great job Sir Pentious! See, wasn’t that easy?!”
“Why yes, it really was…oddly enough.”
The princess squealed, “Great! Now, does everyone understand the game? Lets get two more volunteers, huh? Adam? Angel? Husk? Vaggie?”
Adam rose and stepped forward. The Princess placed a hand on his shoulder when he was set in place and Adam returned his thanks.
“Great! Now who will join him, ooh! Vaggie maybe you should—”
“I’ll do it!” Said Angel Dust. Soon standing beside Adam.
“Thanks Angel! Now why don’t you fall and Adam can catch you!”
“Now just a moment, I still cannot—”
“Oh whats the problem daddy~. Worried you’ll drop me?”
“Yes. I am. I still cannot—”
“Well I wouldn’t mind getting down and dirty~ So how about we get on with it, huh?”
“What?”
“Here I go!”
“Now just a mo—”
The fall came quicker than Adam expected, he felt a furry mass land between his collar and shoulder first. Then Adam felt the full weight of Angel Dusts body as the arachnid demons hair brushed along his cheek. A sigh found its way into his ear, and as Adam luckily gripped two cylinders he assumed were arms, he felt another pair slide along his abdomen.
As the arms began to travel further down, Adam promptly stepped away.
Angel Dust surely hit the ground, as a thump, a yelp, and a whine filled the main lobby.
“Oh Daddy~, I didn’t know you liked it rough~.”
“Oh my fucking god, will you quit with the innuendos already! He ain’t gettin’ what you’re layin’ down.” The barkeep interjected.
“Hey! Don’t start getting feisty just cause I ain’t playing for your hand furball! Wait your turn.”
“F-Furball?!”
“OKAY! That was a great start Adam! But you let Angel go at the last minute! Next time, help him back onto his own two feet and you’ll do perfectly!”
“We can go again if you’d like hun? I ain’t—”
“How about, we switch partners for a sec. Vaggie? Why don’t you go!”
“Wha—? Why do I have to—”
Something passed between the two. A silent moment and then Adam heard heels clack along the floor.
“I’m not falling into your arms.” Vaggie established. Her voice was right in front of him.
“I see. Then should I turn around?”
“Um-Well, why not. So long as Vaggie gets her turn on both sides as well!” Charlie supplied.
“Very Well.”
Adam turned, in what he hoped was in line with Vaggie but with his back to her.
“Are you ready?”
He heard the rustle of her clothes, then she spoke, “Ready.”
“Very Well.”
Adam fell backwards. He fell, then fell, then fell further than he expected. By the time he realized he fell for too long, his head had already collided with the floor.
“What?”
“Oops. Sorry, Must have slipped.”
“Vaggie!”
“Lets try again?” Her voice was monotone. A lack of joy but also a lack of anger evident. Adam strained to hear the beat of her heart.
Seems steady.
“Okay.”
Adam outstretched his hand, hoping for help up. For a long while all he felt was the empty air, then a hand grasped his and pulled. “Thank you, Vaggie, hopefully we might try once more.”
“Ah, its me…Charlie.”
“Oh.”
“Lets get on with it." Vaggie spat.
Adam was not as confident when he turned once again. Luckily, this time he fell and met the grip of the slim yet firm grasp of Vaggie’s arms. He was glad she caught him, yet felt more than saw the eyes she laid upon him. Eyes that seemed to burn in an inferno.
Have I…wronged her somehow?
Has this Adam…?
She promptly dropped him before he could plant his feet and rise.
“You know what, maybe it would be better if we tried something else? Any suggestions?”
“Ooh! Ooh! I got one!” Angel Dust exclaimed.
“Sure Angel! What do you want to do?”
“Lets go into town, I know a great place to grab a few drinks and really get to know each other.”
“Oh that sounds great! Lead the way!”
Adam wasn’t too keen on walking into the inferno proper without some sort of support. he could scarcely navigate the hotel given just how chaotic the place seemed. He’d only been a short while, but even now he could hear the distant call of bombs and bullets in place of birds and winds. He shuttered to think what could happen if he walked out at this very moment. How he would defend himself in his state.
Would the strength of The King of The Gods be enough? Or must I have the technique as well?
He was no slouch, never. Even with his sclera burnt and splattered he could visualize the motions and forms he’d learned. His foe was mighty and his techniques as well, but they all demanded a body at its peak not at its average. It most certainly required, that the target be hit in the first place.
I would need to grab a hold of my foe. At minimum that.
But could he achieve such a thing reliably?
It would seem he had time yet to find out, as he heard the hotel door slam closed.
"Hello? Are they any residents about? Miss Nifty?”
Silence was his answer.
Could they truly forget their own father? What a cruel bunch.
But perhaps this was a blessing in disguise, for now Adam had the chance to better make sense of this foreign layout. Better to map the paces of the common area at the least.
With a newfound goal, Adam rose from the floor to do just that.
The End.