Everyone has seen the aus of phoenix being taken in and becoming a prosecutor by von karma but no one is ready for an au where its larry who becomes the demon prosecutor
comic that appeared to me as I was waking up from a dream
Edit: this got more attention then I thought lol if you wanna redraw this just reblog this with your redraw to credit me or put my @ (idk how tumblr works ngl)
It was a magic revel fic where Arthur banishes Merlin after finding out he has magic and tells him to get his last pay, but as it turns out Merlin hasn't been paid at all for ten years and there isn't enough gold to pay him. It was on ao3
Okay, consider this, Charlie can't seem to read the intentions of people unless they're Super Obvious when we first meet her. Vaggi's exceptional paranoia and defensiveness compensates, seeing only bad when Charlie assumes good.
They're codependent as hell but also like, perfectly matched in this situation. The thing is, watching out for Charlie is a full time job, Vaggi has to sleep and not everyone is as easily flagged as good or evil or even neutral.
Charlie engaging throughout the last two seasons has raised her awareness somewhat, but I still think she is very naive. In short, she wouldn't look a gift hellhorse in the mouth,and she really REALLY should start to by now.
So imagine, if you will, that there are eyes on all the overlords and the hotel and the royal house right now. The Vees clearly want revenge but how when hell is now frustratingly pro princess (or at least anti getting atomised into the radiowaves by her guard deer who was already angry with them).
Velvette, queen of potives and powers, ponders a dozen different ideas. Something subtle, something they wouldn't notice until it was too late.
Valentino suggests sending love potion laced chocolates, and then he and his whores can go get some primo blackmail material of the mindlessly aroused hotelians giving in to their unrefined urges.
Velvette had considered it, but she pointed out it would only take one not eating them or being immune (like the king) for it to fail... and it would be easy to pinpoint the Vees were behind the ploy. You know, given the billboards..
Vox, in his time-out ipad case, also adds he knows Al and the bartender aren't into sweets, and it'd be useless unless you got those two out the way. They'd be first to bar the doors and keep the others contained until it wore off.
Val muttered about how it was a good plan...
Velvette thought about sending some perfumes or free room sprays to the hotel under one of their covert brands. Any product they made also had a false Generic brand called Hell’s Own that they used to sell off more defective or less than perfect items, brews and ideas. Most were in the price range of hellborns, and were easily slipped between the rings, so the market was booming. If only the exchange rate for mammon bucks wasn’t so shit.
Still, the hotel was big, and that's likely going to be an issue. Although… the princess was a known hugger... you get some drops on her and she'd infect the whole hotel in a day, tops. What about a new laundry detergent?
In the end, she scraps it. Too many maybes.
What about diffusing it through one of their scented floral ranges?
Hallucination Hibiscus that had been carefully grown and cultivated in order to be sterile of their usual biochemicals, and able to uptake any introduced poisons, perfumes or medicants. They were a very versatile product for sprucing up a room, making Val’s orgies less sweaty, and for the odd assassination attempt.
Frustratingly for the witch, however, all attempts lead to dead plants galore. Something about the potive just seemed to damage the internal structure of the plant cells, and they wilted. It was too much of a, heh, dead giveaway.
Too high tech to consider resorting to a cork board and string, Velvette pulls up her planner app, checking through the already attempted ideas and adding notes on why they were discounted or failed. There were a few whackier ones on there, which she’d added in less lucid moments… including a series of wil e coyote style traps that would douse them in potion, or even a Sindiana Jawns type trap that shot poison darts. Maybe use one of Vox’s pervcams? The hotelians barely noticed his surveillance anymore.
Bit cringe, but it was password locked and encrypted, no one but her would ever see her insanity.
She’d taken to pacing around the lounge, trying to think of new ways to get back at those self righteous fucks. Alive or dead there would always be weaklings seeking to cripple the actually strong and capable with their soppy, hand-holding, best friends rhetoric. She hadn’t needed it then and she sure as Hell didn’t need that nonsense now.
Vox, carefully moved to coffee table, watched her move. He still seemed pissy they weren’t giving back his body… but the man was going to have a serious time out until he’d realised how badly he’d almost fucked them all over for that bloody deer.
Even Val could pick up the deer just wasn’t that interested, and that was saying something! But Vox had his blind spots…
Still, the deer had been a bit fun to gossip with, and he’d shared some primo blackmail material for if she ever needed to humble Vox in future. Even Val had been less hostile to him towards the end, despite the whole… Vox ragebaiting thing that the red fucker had going on. At least the deer had LISTENED to them.
And she didn’t have enough control on her temper to even touch on the racism Vox went on with. She was ready to fold his rizzless ass like a lawn chair for that little stunt… but Val had first dibs, after that ‘island language’ comment. Vox will be lucky if they let him have one of the AI Scarbie doll’s bodies in the next decade after that, let alone access to his tech to build a new form.
Val hands her a glass, and she sips it absently, aware suddenly how long she’s been scheming as the liquid soothes her scratchy throat.
Val lounges nearby, and rolls the idea around. “Hmmm, but which ones, babydoll? Everyone in that hotel has so many different things about them… fur and flesh, feathers and scales… there’d be no way to give them one type. And they’d get suspicious if we sent shower products specifically for them… wouldn’t they?”
She wants to facepalm. “Ugh, you’re right! Stupid idea. Okay… hmmm, we can’t do something they can wear, most jewellery is through us in this ring but little miss moneypockets can probably get gold and pearls from envy with a bat of her eyelashes at daddy dearest. Clothing would be too suspicious as well. Nothing they can wear or use…”
Val glances up from his phone as her stomach rumbles. “You want me to order in? I think I shot the cook after lunch… cabrone thought you just dump chilli in for spice instead of using the spices in the recipe. Ridiculous! We’ll see how they like spending a month on set…”
A lightbulb goes off in her head. It was so bleeding obvious!
“Val, you gorgeous bitch, you’re a genius!”
“I know… but why, exactly?”
Velvette is already whirling on Vox with a manic gleam in her eyes. “I need you to pull up all the browsing data from the phones at the hotel for the last… well, since the original opened, probably.”
A veritable flood of data explodes out, partially supported by her own abilities as it fills the air. She easily reads and discounts one off items, searches for weird fetish stuff, orders for stationary and the like, it wasn’t relevant just now. And… there it was.
She laughs, half shocked this had been that easy and half delight at having revenge handed to her on a silver platter.
Not only does her little majesty have a running order with a local liquor establishment they held under contract (Chuggin’ Chuck’s House of Bad Decisions & Booze); they also ordered, near religiously, each fortnight from a local hellborn ‘owned’ supermarket that Voxtek technically had a 51% share of.
Hmmm, it also seemed like the weirdos didn’t have much sense of adventure… the moppets routinely ordered takeaway from like, five total places at least twice a week. Three or four, recently, actually.
Huh… that’s… interesting. She feels like there’s a correlation itching at the back of her brain, but right now it ain’t important. Velvette files away the tidbit about the hotel’s grocery orders decreasing in quantity at the same time the fast food takeaway runs went up. Sometime about when the new place was built… what, did his majesty forget to magic up a kitchen?
She skims through the staples that the hotel orders, and notes items that could possibly work as a conveyance method. Vox immediately suggests using the meat, or more likely, the spices, as their trojan horse… best way to hide the taste.
Velvette tosses back that it definitely wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that the person who'd take the heat for any side effects would be his old friend the radio demon, hmmm?
The nubby legs on the case made Vox's tantrum utterly hilarious as he hopped in a circle, wobbling side to side, sparking and swearing up a storm.
He was so damn predictable. But... it also wasn't a half bad idea.
The hotel had several months of orders from the grocery store; hell, the princess had even left several glowing 5 star reviews for them. She wasn't likely to suspect foul play to start with...
Velvette orders Vox to settle down, and get the owner of Deep-In-the-Pitt Groceries on the line, as she scrolled through their current deal; looks like they had a few favours in their contract with them that could be called in at any time. Time to get… creative.
“Val? I think your plan could also come into play here… let’s give them an obvious red herring, get them all hot under the collar and looking the wrong way. And when they do get a taste of our vengeance… it’s going to be ice cold, and out of nowhere.”
“I am going to enjoy watching those do-gooders suffer…” he affirms, exhaling hearts into the air that tickled at her skin.
Behind her, the cauldron pulsed with a menacing glow as the contents swirled, promising a symphony of disquieting agony to those it was inflicted upon. A lightning sharp grin split her features, and she can’t help the laugh that escapes.
Sometimes people just made it too damned easy to fuck with them.
Time to show what happens when you fuck with the Vees.
. . . . . . .
Vaggi was feeling tense.
In the same way someone undergoing the last stages of hypothermia were a little bit naked.
Sure, if you looked at the big picture… and put all the soul crushing emotional terror and trauma of the last few weeks behind you… things were going amazingly well! The hotel was bursting with a number of guests who had come along for all the right reasons this time. Everyone was still… aliveish, to the best of her knowledge, and nothing Baxter was doing in his lab seemed to be spear-enforced time-out worthy. So it was good, right? Great, even!
And yet, she still felt every step as she trudged up the staircase. Her wings were too sore to even consider the old feathered shortcut…
Splitting duties with Charlie was a great idea in theory but… she was basically doing everything she was managing before, but now with a badge. So, it didn’t really feel that equal…
Of course, she wasn’t alone, per say. Niffty was a force of nature in relation to cleaning, pest extermination and stabbing guests upon request. Then there was Husk, who was bullshitting his way through managing group therapies, primarily through the power of old man wisdoming and harranguing the guests into emotional breakdowns, break throughs, and on occasion… break outs in the middle of the night when truth was too hard.
But it was never quite enough.
Lucifer was… around. Physically present, to some degree. That machine had done a number on the seraphim, physically, emotionally and mentally… and she wasn’t sure how to fix that. The Devil himself now twitches when lights flicker, if the tv crackles, or someone holds an electrical cord within fourteen feet of himself… and that’s… kind of heartbreaking, actually.
Vaggi adores her girlfriend, all of heaven and hell knows that now… but sometimes Charlie just wasn’t that observant… and it was becoming a major problem. After al, how do you gently point out to a hell certified psychologist that of everyone in the hotel, her dad just so happened to be the inhabitant who needed The Most Therapy Ever, when he was doing his best to pretend he was a-ok, and Charlie was buying that completely?
It was like a really fucked up version of the chicken and the egg, and she wasn’t sure how to even start properly handling this mobius strip of a problem.
Ugh. Interpersonal conflicts weren't her forte. She had grown, but… this was still a raw space in her capabilities, for the ex-orcist. Niffty wasn’t an option because she’d make it so much weirder. Husk… was straight up too flat about Angel’s departure to even consider asking, even if this was one time they really needed his blunt no nonsense style of flinging truth at your face hard enough for it to stick no matter how it ached.
Which, logically, left… someone she didn’t even want to consider seeking support from. But… well, he did come back… which kind of implied either an ongoing nefarious plot or like, some sort of care? He might help. Maybe. Well, plan B involved bringing a deer carcass and politely asking at spear point, so…
He might be a bastard, but he has helped before. And, let’s face it, the schadenfraude of watching Charlie and Lucifer trapped into an emotionally vulnerable conversation at his hands would be like Sinsmas came early to the red bastard.
Vaggi recalled that Alastor had referred to them as anxious socially inept golden retrievers, once, and now the ex-orcist couldn't unsee it. Just a pair of all powerful puppies who couldn’t work out how to play together, and resorted to variations of fetch to make the other happy…
These morningstars were kind-hearted but chaotic disasters made flesh... but she was planning to marry into that mess, so she might as well try to sort that out first.
With the reluctance of a whore in church, and not the kind angel played in Confessions of a Sinner 2: Dirty Habits & Rail Mary’s that he brought to show and tell a few months back, Vaggi found herself rapping on the ominous red door.
After a good moment of silence she hit it a smidgeon harder, and was rewarded by the door creaking open. One of those weird poppet things grinned up at her, unnerving but polite as it bowed to admit her inside.
"Hey Al, where are you? I need your help..." she queried, squinting to get her bearings. The shadows writhed, playing a number on her diminished peripheral vision and depth perception. One day she would make Lute eat her own halo for what she did.
As always when seeking an audience with the Radio Demon, Vaggie was braced braced for him to suddenly loom out of the shadows or some other creepy bullshit, because he was a walking jumpscare of a sinner. She’d even taken to checking under the toilet seat before committing, these days, despite knowing he’d likely rather impale himself on angelic steel than bother anyone in the bathroom… his moral compass was hard to gauge but he was very specific about boundaries, and the bathroom always seemed one of them, thankfully.
What Vaggi didn’t anticipate was the freaky poppet child thing tugging her over to a pair of armchairs by a dim fireplace, where it appeared the Radio Demon was fast asleep.
Huh. She didn't know he could do that…
Admittedly, it was a little creepy that he was still smiling, though. Then again, she muses, tiptoing closer, perhaps it wasn’t a choice. She’d seen the strings when he went Big, and some sinners just ended up with weird form related quirks that had something to do with their indivualised punishments. You just had to live with them.
Her eye fell on the way his right hand was curled tightly against his chest, claws digging in enough to tear the fabric, fingers taut. In a flash, Vaggi remembered the way he'd flinched when she and the others had hugged him after his surprise return when the hotel had been rebuilt.
At the time she assumed it was about so many people being in his space, but now...
Her wings itched as she drew closer. Well, not itched, more like… sensed something in a way that the human mind wasn’t exactly primed to interpret as anything else. Point was, they itched or whatever it was, in a way that reminded her of training with Adam. His aura was almost as infuriating as the man himself and always entered the room a good few minutes before he did. Not unlike his ego.
And it was emanating from Alastor's chest?
What the fuck could that mean?
She anticipates her touch waking him; being grabbed or thrown, or the radios blowing out her eardrums... and yet, he remains asleep. Or whatever this is, as Vaggi moves his hand and tests the area gingerly. The overlord twitches, a frown forming between his brows, but otherwise remains silent.
This was honestly starting to freak her out. She almost wanted him to snap awake and try to bite her… the silence was… yeah, unnerving.
Vaggi felt bandages beneath the fabric, a thick wad wound over the torso. From what she could recall from Niffty's report of the Vee’s capture of Alastor, there was a big wound still healing under there that Vox had torn the stitches from. Niffty had offered to do things that seemed anatomically impossible, to Vox, but her gleaming smile implied that the maid new how and absolutely could make it happen.
But... oh.
Yeah. Now that Vaggi was putting a few things together in her brain, suddenly Alastor's pissy attitude and constant aroma of cigarette ash and alcohol began making a lot more sense. Especially if that was from Adam.
Well, if the idiot had just said something they could have done something about it before things snowballed into the calamity of the past few weeks!
But of course, this was hell so…
Actually, Alastor’s lack of response was starting to really freak her out now; and Vaggi didn't even realise her other hand was checking for a pulse, until the thready beat was beneath her fingers.
Now that did stir a response, and radio dials snapped onto her, shadows looming for a split second before the overlord seemed to realise who was in his sphere and settled. It must have been the skin on skin contact.
There was a heavy little twist in Vaggis' gut that made her wonder what kind of treatment Alastor had received in Vee Tower. Had they ever really asked? How do you even start a conversation like that with a man this repressed? Maybe with a poppet? Show me on the voodoo doll where they touched you…?
"Vagathina-Rose Morningstar the Fifth, to what do I owe the pleasure of this handsy home invasion?" He asks, jovially, as she steps away to give them both their personal space back.
"I came to get your help with something. And your little doll… child…servant thing let me in, by the way, even though you know I have a master key for emergencies. But ignore that part for now, more importantly, why did your dumb ass decide to hide a wound from a damn archangel?"
His ears flick back, and Vaggi realises he seems to be looking for a good lie to toss her way and hopefully distract her from this discovery.
"Before you start lying through your teeth, I'm not planning to use this against you or sell you out or whatever worst case scenario is going on in your weird paranoid deer head, alright? I came to get your help around Charlie and ... her dad." She throws her hands up to forestall any insults to the king. "I know you two hate one another or whatever the fuck that was about... but this is about charlie, and having the king less fucked up, because he’s our best bet against the exorcists if it comes to a fight."
Alastor is regarding her shrewdly. "You anticipate the angry one who worshipped the first fool will try something against orders, hmmm? I suspect you would enjoy tearing off her wings as well, wouldn't you?" He hums. "Well, I do enjoy a good spot of vengeance, so I suppose I could assist in some way, dear manager."
He lets the statement linger.
She rolls her eye at his theatrics. "But what's in it for you, you mean? I mean, less Charlie sobbing and hugging you at random... I know that bothers you more than you're willing to say. And you'd be one up on Lucifer, I mean, solving the whole dad daughter dynamic puts you over him."
He inclines his head, "When you put it that way..."
"And," Vaggi interjects quickly, "I may be able to do something about that injury... even just sort out the stitching. But I’ve seen them remove grace before… back when I was in Heaven.”
Vaggi shuddered. Adam had a habit of coming to training drunk and blasting people with abandon. Targets and moving exorcists got blurry when you were shitfaced, and she’d seen enough of her sisters pull grace from the injured on more than one occasion. It seemed simple, in theory… a chant, a bit of focus, and a way to contain it.
A trill of radio warbling filled the air and both those ears perked up in her direction.
Got him.
"And how do you propose we create this magical moment of vulnerability and saccharine reunion for the royal daughter and the king?"
“I was thinking we could try just getting them in the same room for once, like… a whole staff dinner together. Like we did in the old hotel. If we can just get them to make eye contact and do some pointed conversation starters, they might realise…” she trails off, feeling foolish at the very idea. It had sounded like a plan when she’d been on the way upstairs, and now…
"Why yes, provided we have the appropriate provisions… I would be open to cooking something to suit all tastes. As I assume you are requesting, of me, in this deal." Alastor responded, a little hint of sharp delight at the edge of the tone that warned the King might end up with something spicier than even he could handle.
“Yes, yes that’s exactly what I want. BUT, you can’t try to murder Lucifer with spices like that time with the Jambalaya… I need him conscious and coherent in order to bridge the gap with Charlie, got it?”
If someone with an ever present smile could pout… then Alastor was doing it right now. It was like looking at an optical illusion where one picture shifted to another if you shook your head. Utterly disorientating.
“Oh fine… ruin all the fun in it for me then! It’s not my fault I assumed someone who can swim in lava and actively breathes hellfire could handle a little kick in their food…”
“A kick?! He went PURPLE! I thought he was going to explode!” Vaggi choked out, remembering the moment vividly. “No, something mild… please… and maybe something lighter on garlic? I know, I know… sacrilege… but, you don’t have to sleep next to Charlie afterwards. I love her, but her garlic breath could kill me if I don’t have the windows open.”
“Alright, alright, do calm down… now, when do you propose we do this little therapeutic ambush soiree?” The overlord queries. “I suspect it may be a tad late to make anything of note at this hour, and I’d have to check the larder to ascertain what is available for cooking…”
Vaggi sighed in relief, delighted to have gotten out of this without a handshake deal being eked out of her. “Tomorrow, it should give you time to recover.”
The ears twitched uncertainly. “Recover from what?”
Vaggi didn’t reply, merely lunged forwards, chanting under her breath as she pressed her hands to the clothed chest and shut her eye. Casting inwards to seek the glimmering trail of the foreign thing, the slippery eellike sliver of grace that was nestling within the sinner’s body and holding his healing hostage. It flared like a golden ring being found in a pool of ink, calling to her and yet evading her metaphorical grasp.
Staving off the desire to swear at the little fucker, she used the chant to coo and coax it. The semisentient thing had had time to grow, to feast on the lifeforce of its victim, to become accustomed to the environment and drain the host’s abilities to swell its own. There was a cunning there… and an arrogance. Fucking Adam.
Vaggi clenched her teeth.
She felt Alastor shuddering, and a blurt of static faded in and out, but otherwise the only sound was harsh breathing and her litany of chanting. In frustration, she clawed at the cloth and bandages, placing her hands upon the wound and feeling a pang of sympathy for the flinch he gave.
It was being disobedient… normally they would surge towards any of Adam’s ‘girls’, knowing their light and wanting to join with their own as a familiar piece of heaven. This… seemed to be wilier, filled with residual fury, and snapping at her.
Vaggi was just about considering putting her hands in the wound to physically grab the little fuck when she felt her aura snag on it, pulling it to her with the oddest sensation. It was like your whole body was a straw and something was fighting to get away…
Finally, her eye snapped open as she felt the physicality of the thing on her palms, and her vicelike grip ensured it couldn’t get free. Alastor made a choked sound as the thing was finally pulled free in a rush of watery blood, heat and a rather chunky yellow substance that was likely a nasty infection. He’s lucky his insides hadn’t been dissolved… this was a LOT of grace for a sinner body to take on. This much would have crippled an exorcist, if they couldn’t reach a healer in time.
“Fire… I need fire.” she croaks, finding herself exhausted from the effort, and turning to hurl the thing straight into the fireplace. Alastor raised a trembling hand and the coals flared into blinding green flames, searing the thing as it shrieked and writhed.
The pair knew, without words, that each felt revolted by the whole situation… but the relief was near palpable.
Catching his breath, Alastor tilted his ears at Vaggi. “Excellent work, Vargret-June Mayflower…” he exhales, and slumps forwards. She lunges to catch him and push the overlord back in his seat, shuddering a little as the biological nightmare of his chest touches her arm.
She then notices how utterly destroyed the chair seems to have become in the impromptu healing session, the armrests annihilated at the effort to not force her away… Vaggi’s grateful, but also frustrated, as now she has to move this ridiculously tall and oddly heavy sinner to the other armchair.
And then the door bursts open, admitting the king in his full demonic glory; his red eyes darting in all directions as he sought the flare of heavenly grace that surely any angel in ten kilometres likely sensed. Vaggi, startled, automatically fluffed up in a winged threat display and moved to shield Alastor from view.
“Where is he? I felt Adam here…”
“He’s not, I promise… I just… had to help someone get Grace out of an injury, that’s all. Sorry, if I’d realised it would reach you, I would have warned you.”
The King sagged a little, sliding back into his quieter, more duck-loving self and looking simply exhausted. “Okay… I just thought… well, we sent one UP, so why wouldn’t someone like him be able to… you know, come DOWN. And then I thought he was here, and near Charlie, and I just-... I panicked and-...”
She holds her hands up placatingly, settling her wings. “Hey, hey it’s okay. No one at this hotel would let that piece of shit near her, I promise… but it was just residual grace, and we burned it. Did you want to check the fireplace to make sure we got it?”
Vaggi wasn’t sure when she’d slipped into her soft and gentle tone, the one she tended to use for the Morningstars, but he seemed to be responding to it.
“No I-... it’s gone. I can’t sense it anywhere here. Who was hurt?” The king blinks, and seems to realise which room he’s in. “The bellhop?! When did he even get close enough to Adam to get hurt? Oh, don’t tell me… bambi fell over that axe thing after the battle and got a boo-boo, huh? Too embarrassed to get me to kiss it better so he made you do it, right?”
Vaggi was tired of their ridiculous little spat or pissing match, or whatever this was.
“Sir, with all due respect, could you shut up please?” she asked, still in her Too Kind voice. “Alastor was on the roof, projecting the shield to trap the exorcists in with us, and give us a chance to kill them off. Adam broke the shield and went after him… next thing we know he was aiming right at Charlie, and we couldn’t find him. We thought-... but it was bad, and he didn’t tell us… and then the whole Vees thing… and i found out about fifteen minutes ago that he was hurt and tried to fix it.”
Lucifer walked into the room, on shaky legs, and grimaced at the wound. “Yeah, oof, gross. That’s… hmm. Well, the good news is that there’s nothing but 100% deer and a general infection in there now… I should be able to flush that out, for a Favour…”
“No, you won’t.” Vaggi replied. “Sir, you haven’t recovered from whatever the fuck that machine did to you… can you please tell me if this is somethingI need to call a doctor for, or if I can just like, get some antibiotics from the first aid kit and slap a bandaid on it?”
“Hmmm… antibiotics could work, it’ll heal on its own, but you’d have to watch for fever. I haven’t seen a sinner survive Grace before, outside of Lillith, and she’s… you know, built different. But it doesn’t taste life-ending…” the King flickers his serpentine tongue in the air, sifting through the scents, and throwing a dark look at the fireplace. Vaggi can only imagine what singed, tainted grace tasted like after months of gorging on demon blood. “Or I can do this.”
Without warning, Lucifer put one hand on Alastor’s uninjured shoulder, and lightly pressed a finger against the wound. The overlord convulsed as a surge of viscous reddy-yellow liquid was expelled in a torrent… and when it slowed, some of the heat had died down. The edges of the wound starting to close using regular sinner healing.
Lucifer sagged and Vaggi was able to scoop him up into her arms before he passed out.
“Alright, let’s get you somewhere soft to nap, heal yourself first and stop being reckless.”
She places him on the bed, setting the hat aside and wondering if he’d wake if she went for the boots. Saved from the dilemma by two little poppets that appeared to facilitate the activity.
Niffty nearly scared her flight feathers off by appearing behind her as silently as a cat. “Husk said to tell you that the man from the booze shop and the food place are here…”
Vaggi, whose mind was going a bit fuzzy from all this drama, yawned. “Great! Can you sign off on the delivery for me, Niffty? I’ve got to stay here to keep an eye on everyone.”
“Oh, okay! Here… this is the Rat Princess, I was saving it for Charlie, but since you helped sir with his injury, I want you to have it!” The little maid said, depositing a deceased mouse with a large red bow on it, directly into Vaggi’s horrified hands, before disappearing.
“My life is so weird…” she groaned, grabbing a cushion and sitting down by Alastor’s chair. Close enough that each man was in her line of sight, or at least, in the peripheral. “And now, we wait.”
. . . . .
She woke to warmth and comfort that defied her last known location.
Vaggi rubbed at her eye and sat up, a red coat sliding off of her body as she realised she was now in the only functional armchair in the room, before a roaring fire, and her patient was nowhere in sight.
The King startled himself awake, sleepily manifesting a duck holding a shuriken in its wing, that hit the floor and bounced off into the darkness. “Whu-...?” he managed.
“You’re okay, you were resting after helping Alastor with his wound. Did you want to go back to sleep?” She asks, noting that he looks better than before, and wondering how long they were out.
“No… no, gotta get up and… something. Be productive?”
“Why?” she challenges, “There’s nothing pressing now, and you should take this quiet time to heal yourself. If Al left us both here, then I don’t think he minds us staying here and napping a little longer… this chair’s comfy so I’m… going to take advantage of that.”
Her brain had decided that this was more of a gentle interlude where she slipped back into sleep again. If Al was back on board, the hotel was going to be just fine… no more Mighty Manager handling everything one handed.
“Oh… okay…” the King yawns and presumably settled down again, if the silence was anything to go by.
Hazbin Hotel Scream Rain AU
Contributors in the comment section: @kiochii92, @correaceleste123, @ssree, @kitsunesongs, @renkamisato, @periguita, @mermaid-of-the-valley @ladyvsama
Summary:
What if the Scream Rain was a relatively recent phenomenon in Hell and is actually environmental contamination from the people Alastor traps in the airwaves?! The Seraphim, Lucifer and Charlie demand the release of the trapped souls when the screaming begins to infest Heaven’s Airwaves.
Except the people in the airwaves are in the airwaves for good reason…
Modern Overlords: They can't be that bad right?
Zestial: You are idiots.
Chapters 1-19
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Chapter 1: Scream Reign
Alastor wondered if he was hallucinating, “This is an utterly terrible idea” he tried to reiterate to the fluttering seraphim.
Charlie cut in, cajoling with a smile that wouldn't dissolve sugar. “Everyone already knows how powerful you are. If anything, you’d probably get more powerful without keeping those people constantly in the airwaves!”
Alastor wondered if he should burst Charlie's bubble and tell her that wasn't how his powers worked.
Then Lucifer spoke up in the same tone, the same fucking tone, he’d used to call Vox garbage, “Come on bellhop! It’s just a couple of sinners, You’re all the same anyway”
Alastor saw red, he decided then and there that Charlie, Lucifer and the Seraphim could, as Angel Dust was prone to crassly saying, Fuck around and Find out, “If I release the souls from the airwaves want one favour from each of you, I’ll even add in Charlie’s caveat of harming no one.”
“Greedy sinner!”
“Useless Deadbeat”, Lucifer flinched back hard, good.
“In addition-”
“More?”, Lucifer shrieked like a seagull.
“In addition, I want it to be known that this was entirely YOUR joint idea, All credit for whatever comes of.. this, Falls. On. You.”
“So you’ll do it?” Charlie ought to know by now the puppy dog eyes did not work on him.
At his nod Emily and Charlie hugged each other and spun happily in circles, though whether they maintained the level of enthusiasm in the coming days...
Sera nodded amicably, “I see no harm in a small favour that harms no one”
Sera and Lucifer clearly had much better control of their magic than Charlie for the flash of light from the handshake to go off like a small party cracker, Charlie and Emily’s were loud and flashy as expected.
Alastor mused if he were a lesser person he’d vow to never wash that hand again, possibly dance and sing about swindling two seraphim, the devil himself and his daughter.
As it was, Alastor was already going to break out the good rye or maybe some moonshine and have himself a party the second he was in private.
“I’ll release all souls trapped per our agreement upon returning to my radio station at the hotel today, that should be easiest”
“Well, I see our business here is concluded, I’ll have St. Peter report on the weather status in a few days”
Sera's smile was wide, Alastor's was wider.
This was going to be entertaining!
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Chapter 2: Announcement
Alastor was feeling something he didn't often feel, a small smidgeon of regret as he stared out of the window of his radio station at the growing number of trembling figures in the now silent rain, frantically scrambling away from where he had graciously allowed the portal to rematerialise.
The lights of the radio station’s On Air sign blazed red, illuminating his figure in the window. Appropriately dramatic and easily spotted given the renewed hoarse screaming and increased running or crawling speed of the crowd below.
“Citizens of the Pentagram, It brings me no pleasure to announce that earlier today at the embassy, at the command of His Majesty King, Lucifer and the High Seraphim of Heaven, Sera, the Airwaves will no longer be allowed to broadcast my defeated foes delightful screams.
Apparently my broadcasts now reach heaven and have been deemed unsettling, who knew the Pearly Gates on high could block broadcasts?
Not that I ever tried to broadcast into heaven all my favourite listeners are down here after all!
Understand Pentagram, I have no desire to subject my dear mother to that. Thus all the souls imprisoned within the airwaves by myself have been released to wander the streets once again at Heaven and the Morningstars behest”
As he settled in for his regular broadcast Alastor gave it less than a week before the true chaos started and Hell started to boil over like an unwatched pot.
Alastor threw subtlety out the window and strengthened the hotels wards as high as he could ignoring Lucifer's confusion echoing in the magic, where was this anxiety coming from?
It was probably from the concept of that wall being blown up again, Stupid Fallen Angel making that one wall that always blew up load bearing..
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Chapter 3: Behind Closed Doors
“Carmilla I must urge caution the situation is rapidly becoming dangerous beyond our control, We must leave, now!”
“Zestial surely you’re overreacting, while they are Overlords they have no territory to speak of-”
The building shook, Zestial gripped the table edge tightly, claws digging into the surface, “I was the weakest Sovereign Overlord of that time, and given the power they currently have at their disposal I expect Alastor did not claim their contracts, merely imprisoned them and their followers as is.”
Noise blasted through the warehouse to the meeting room from a stout mule horse sinner with a machine gun and a veritable army of likewise formed and clad gun wielding zealots.
“COME OUT AND FACE YOUR BETTERS WOMAN! I PROMISE I’LL SHOW YOU AND YOUR DAUGHTERS A REAL GOOD TIME!!”
Carmilla Carmine recognised that fucking voice even if she didn't recognise the face, Alastor’s past broadcasts being both highly memorable and surprisingly educational, “Good grief! Is that-”
Zestial’s voice was low, “José Victoriano Huerta Márquez, Formerly the self proclaimed Sovereign Overlord of Urban Construction-” Both Camilla and Zestial ducked out of sight as his gaze swept up towards their window.
“-and Weapons Manufacture”
Again Zestial urged her to abandon her pride, “Carmilla listen, you are strong don't doubt that but if you were around back then, with your current level of power you would not qualify to be considered even a minor overlord.”, more gunfire and Carmilla winced as she felt some of her contacts unravelling, the intruders had clearly stumbled across a stash of Angelic Steel and had started using it.
“This may be harsh and hard to hear but you are outmatched!” Zestial lowered his voice to a whisper “We are both outmatched. Gather your daughters and head to the hotel, You will be safe there”
The Radio Demon had erected strongest wards around the hotel the same day he had broadcast Heavens decision and while the returned Sovereign Overlords were strong, they were not archangels strong enough to break it.
Scrambling down the fire escape Carmilla forced herself to keep running, no matter what happened.
“Zestial! Old Comrade! It’s been decades what brings you here!”
No matter what she heard.
She had to get to her daughters, the weight of the rings in her pockets burned.
Roaring, gunfire and explosions rocked the building behind her as Carmine Industries blazed with green light as another Overlord fell that night.
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Chapter 4: Lost Vista
The madman who had marched up to and into Vee tower was laughing, the psycho who had dismantled Veetek security effortlessly. Even now he was monologuing in a booming voice that carried down the halls.
"Long was I trapped in the ethereal sea by that ever hungering deer, mere flotsam in a typhoon of screams, however my fear of losing sight of the shore has left me long before my death. Shore is within sight and what a glorious shiny new vista I see before me to conquer, truly heaven has come to hell!"
The fight for Vee Tower was depressingly short Christopher Columbus wore armour that tanked anything the two Vee’s could throw at it, a single hit of his armored fist scattering Velvette into doll parts.
Valentino's smoke only seemed to make things worse, dozens of Sovereign Overlord Columbus's men shaking it off like mad and horny was their default. They tore off Valentino's wings and gagged him with the remains of them.
Vox, stayed silent from his room several floors down watching the security feeds, as a ipad there was nothing he could do as Velvette and Valentino were led away in soul chains.
Well, maybe... not entirely nothing. If Velvette and Valentino felt him tugging on their connection they said nothing to their new owner. A single contract, as much as Valentino could spare on short notice without being noticed to help Vox escape, swapped owners and Vox pulled on it hard.
Angel Dust yelped as he materialised in a dark room met by his personal nightmare, staring at the glowing monitor face of his tormentor.
“Put me in the carry case and take me to the Hazbin Hotel”, Vox the ipad, ordered imperiously.
He did not expect Angel Dust to snort and turn to examine the room, “...and why should I help you?”
Vox wanted to scream, “I own you, you really want to go back up to that!?”
The screen lit up behind them, the sight of the Overlord’s henchmen partaking of both the models and the prostitutes.
Unexpectedly Angel Dust laughed, it was not a nice laugh and Vox got a sinking feeling at the spiders wild gaze, “You know what Vox? I’ve had worse, far worse at your hands and Valentino's hands than a couple of grabby amateurs that get horny over some exposed skin. Maybe I should open the door and turn us in?”
Vox nearly crashed, fans whirring in panic, “No! Wait Wait Wait! Bad idea! What do you want?!!”
“I want my soul back.”
“What?!”
“Or I could just leave you here, without hands you can’t exactly punish me, just summon me.” Angel sat on Vox’s favourite chair smiling at him all fangs, far to reminiscent of that fucking deer, “How long until you run out of power? Would anyone recognise you as anything other than a busted monitor?”
Vox winced and Angel taunted him, “Imagine, turned off and unaware in a landfill slowly buried in the trash pile as people throw more and more stuff away”
“enough”, Vox whispered hoarsely all too easily able to picture such a thing happening.
Angel Dust continued head tilted infuriatingly like a certain deer, “Maybe an imp will salvage you, or take you apart for spare parts?”
“I said enough! Take me to Hazbin Hotel, guarantee my safety, both getting there and staying there safely and you can have your soul back!” Vox was panicking.
Angel Dust hopped up from the chair suddenly all smiles, “Well! Why didn't you say that before!? Deal?”
A moment of silence, Valentino was going to dump him because of this, but if he could forgive him for nearly leveling the city he could forgive him for this… maybe, hopefully. “You’ve spent far too much time around that smiling bastard”
Angel Dust laughed as the light of the deal blazed.
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Chapter 5: Buyers Remorse
Alastor sighed, idly swirling a shotglass of rye and inwardly debated drinking straight from the bottle.
Husk was as miserable as ever ever since Angel Dust had voluntarily left for Valentino.
He'd be even more miserable to know what Alastor had been strong armed into doing by Charlie, Lucifer and the High Seraphim.
"So what's the big idea with locking everyone in the hotel?" Cherri Bomb dourly asked, the rain outside was quiet for once.
Alastor’s improved barrier had bounced more than one resident off it before he had tweaked it.
"As this hotels hotelier it is my duty to see to the protection of the residents, thanks to the actions of the high seraphim Hell has once again become worthy of its name."
Alastor took another swig, it burned delightfully on the way down and numbed that niggling feeling that had been attacking him ever since he released the Overlords in the airwaves.
"We took on Exorcists and the Vee’s! What's got you so worried?" spoke Cherri Bomb, such a spry young arson enjoying innocent little grasshopper skating across a pond of hungry hell sharks. Alastor reached for the rye bottle, hard liquor loosening his tongue enough to elaborate.
"Well-"
The doors crashed open.
"The Overlords and all their territories are under attack!"
Alastor ignored Vaggi's exclamation as she ushered the cloaked figures of a bloody and shaken Carmilla and her two daughters inside, considering the matter summarised neatly by the wounded Overlord’s daughter and again reached directly for the bottle of Rye on the top shelf.
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Chapter 6: The Ides of Murder
Sovereign Overlord Prick winced as his sides bled sluggishly from where his own needles had been extracted, Sovereign Overlord Hatchet swore colourfully as he stabbed yet another of their adversaries with his throwing knives. Doomsday district had gone feral today, ancient overlords rising out of the shadows like fucking nightmares.
The mad cackling of the overlord with the gold crown and her purple monitor lizard husband made both Prick and Hatchet shiver in disgust, let alone their unknown third who had assigned himself their torturer.
"After this shits over I’m petitioning Carmilla to ban fucking overlord triads, once was fucking enough!" Hatchet growled aloud making Prick give a pained chuckle.
“Do you really think those psychos are who they said the were?" Hatchet paused as if he hadn't truly considered it, Cleopatra, Julius Cesaer and the guy who fucking stabbed him to death so badly that thousands of years later people were STILL making ides of March memes on sinstagram in Hell, an overlord thropple?
"We need fucking answers, Carmilla's territory is that way, Zestial will know who these fucks are"
"Then we kill them?"
"Absofuckinglutely!"
Easier said than done, Prick ached from the exertion as the two of them came to a stop behind an overturned car.
“Fuck!”
Hatchet summarised their feelings up perfectly, Carmilla Industries had certainly undergone a change.
Scaffolding over one side of the incredibly battered building and welding lights aglow, horse like sinners loudly yelling and laughing as they waved angelic steel armaments around like toys.
“Hatchet! Do you see that?!”
“See wot?”
“That over there!”
Hatchet spotted it what Prick was pointing at and appropriately lost all colour “Ah.. Shit”
Zestial beaten and trussed up much like The Radio Demon had been by Vox... but downgraded to a chair without wheels, that had to hurt the ego.
But the radio demon had clearly had a plan in the works the entire time…
Hatchet decided to act on his hunch, “Prick you stay here, I’m going to sneak closer”
“Are you mad?!”
“We need to find out what’s going on!”
The horse sinners were pathetic drunks and easy to sneak around, getting as close as he dared Hatchet whispered “Psst! Zestial! what the fucks going on?!”
Zestial stirred and Hatchet realised that the overlord was in a poor state, bound tight with angelic steel and covered in sluggishly bleeding slashes
“Overlord Hatchet? What an auspicious meeting”
“Cut the crap old man, what the fuck’s happening?”
Zestial bore an unreadable look, “Did you not hear the Radio Demons broadcast?”
“My hearings been blown out for the past week.” Hatchet admitted “Some amateurs trying to replace that mad bomber ever since she went to that hotel”
Zestial sighed “Understandable, The ancient Overlords have been released from imprisonment, Carmilla has escaped but the entirety of the Pentagram is under assault”
“Huh, so that really was Caesar, Cleopatra and Stabby Ides MarchGee… Why the fuck would he release them?”
Zestial looked exasperated, “Allegedly, Heaven told him too”
“Well shit, Heaven again?”
There was a moment of silence, “You want help escaping old man? Only cost you a favour? That carmine weapon commission of mine Carmilla keeps putting off being moved to the front of production after this mess sounds good, or an angelic steel whip if she can manage it?”
Zestial sighed as though in pain, this brat, “Deal”
“Originally I had intended to as the youngsters say nowadays, pull a radio demon”, Zestial grumbled as Hatchet carefully picked at the chains.
In a successful PR Campaign Velvette and Valentino had gone fully transparent on the entirety of the Radio Demons captivity, broadcasting how pathetic Vox was using surveillance footage from inside Vee tower. People had made everything from montages of manipulation to AMV’s of the radio demons artful rage baiting of the former CEO of Voxtek into a homicidal breakdown backed to jazzy music.
Hatchet snickered, “Rage bait them to their own destruction in style?”
Zestial looked ruefully at his injuries, “I had forgotten the full measure of the overlords I was facing, I will not forget again.”
“So we leg it on three?” Hatchet eyed the mob of partying sinners.
“We can take my shadows” Zestial offered, rubbing his wrists to restore bloodflow, green light sparking from his fingertips.
Hatchet rubbed his own finger on his coat to get rid of the blood, “Prick’s over that way so you can drop me off there, we need to assemble the gang first and then contact Zeezi’s crew, you got a destination?”
“We will meet at the Hazbin Hotel”
Predictably the horse sinners erupted in furious shouting and indiscriminate gunfire when they noticed Zestial gone without a trace.
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Chapter 7: If you can’t do the time…
"Why is this happening!" Charlie quietly screamed gripping her head in frustration, Cherri awkwardly detanged her fingers from her hair before she tore some of it out and offered her a bag to hyperventilate into.
Alastor sighed, no entirely unsympathetic but deprived of rye and forced to remain annoyingly sober.
He spoke slowly in short sentences as if to a particularly oblivious young child.
"You, your father and the Seraphim made me empty the Airwaves. The Overlords and their underlings trapped in those Airwaves are now free. This is the result. Action and consequences"
A loud whistling and thudding boom rattled the hotel and saw Husk bristling feather tail poofing up like a feather duster at a noise he found ominously familiar.
"What the fuck is happening in the Entertainment District?" Cherri Bomb looked like she wanted to join in.
Alastor listened for a moment filtering and magnifying the noise to his hearing.
"...I believe that's the Spanish inquisition and various Conquistadors led by the returned Sovereign Overlord Columbus having a spirited debate with Sovereign Overlord Himmler and his Nazi legions."
A very loud explosion rang in the distance visible dust rising in the distance through the hotels windows as the Pentagram’s skyline slowly lost a skyscraper as it toppled over, Alastor's ears drooped incrementally, "...and I think the Nazi's are winning"
"Oh fuck that!" Husk hissed wild eyed jumping over the desk angelic steel playing cards drawn, "Angels still over there with those fucks!"
"The ancient overlords are all free?" Carmilla's voice was rough "Can't you put them back?"
What a question
Alastor cracked his neck, "Best you ask the High Seraphim that question Overlord Carmilla, it was her idea, despite my protest my hands are tied. Something about heavenly noise pollution"
Husk rivaled Niffty in his movements, rapidly tucking a dozen bottles and cleaning cloths into his magic hat and grabbing a first aid kit from beneath the bar.
“I’m getting Angel out of there! Those Nazi fucks are dead if they fucking breathe in his direction”, Husk hissed and left swiftly left the hotel followed by Cherri Bomb.
Not that Alastor had any objections to Husk going on a rampage in the name of love, any excuse to fight nazi’s was a good excuse.
In the sudden silence Alastor summoned a large box of cleaning supplies and set them down next to the roach theatre, “Niffty please ready more rooms, as many as you can. I expect Carmilla and her daughters will not be the only ones to seek refuge here in the coming days”
Alastor finally had a name for his nagging anxiety that had eaten at him the moment he had agreed to the seraphim deal, something he thought he, a demon of Hell could no longer feel.
An emotion he had no right to feel, Guilt.
---
Chapter 8: Howitzer
“Another fucking detour!” Vox raged until Angel Dust hit the mute button spitefully and stuffed him under an arm.
The streets near Vee Tower were surprisingly immaculate despite the takeover, showcasing the utter lack of resistance.
Angel Dust wondered at that lack of resistance “Vox, where’s your building security fucking gone?”
Muted, Vox looked remarkably shifty giving Angel Dust a sinking feeling. “You HAD security right? Proper security, not just glorified bouncers?”
Vox undid his muting himself and replied waspishly, “Most fights are between Overlords okay! We were three Overlords and Shok.wav! We could take any fucker who fucking tried! The tower never had any value, it’s just a place, if it broke we could just throw some money at it and rebuild.”
Angel processed that concept or attempted to and... “Fucking hell Vox why didn't you just hire some ex-military fucks or something?”
Vox hissed something that had Angel Dust nearly trip, “Arackniss fucking blacklisted me!”
“what”
The ipad sighed now sounding exhausted, “...Why do you think I didn't like you?”
Angel Dust could guess, “Because Valentino was fucking me?”
Vox laughed bitterly, “Because owning you meant the mob would bar us from hiring them! They’d put out a hit on anyone who fucking tried!”
“Why would he do that...”, and what was that whistling noise..?
“Fuck if I know-”
Angel Dust and Vox shrieked as the ground shook sending them both crashing down face first into the tarmac, the deafening noise of impact was loud beyond description and a cloud of dust rolled over them, blinding them to the cause.
Angel Dust stood when it was clear the movement of the ground had stopped, reaching out towards Vox’s faintly glowing screen which was now covered in road muck and rubble dust.
His own eyes were starting to sting from whatever was in the dust and it was getting hard to breathe.
Unable to see much beyond Vox’s screen light Angel Dust picked a direction and started to walk.
And yet, what seemed like moments later, Angel Dust awoke with a cacophony of coughing as though he’s held his breath too long, “Yeah, get it out” Vox’s voice was as unwelcome as always, coming from his side propped up against a bin. “About time you respawned”
That startled Angel Dust, “I died? I don't remember... How long?”, looking around wildly Angel Dust tried to figure out where he was, no longer in the Entertainment District at least, probably.
Vox was mad, “About 5 minutes, Looks like that skyscraper that came crashing down was Valentino and Velvette’s chemical experimentation lab, I told them to move that thing to the outskirts!”
Angel Dust could care less about Vox’s whining or what OSHA codes the Vee’s violated, “So I fucking overdosed on second hand drugsmoke?!” Vox snorted unsympathetic, “Look at it this way, you can navigate to the hotel properly without being blitzed out of your mind now”
Angel Dust hit Vox’s mute button extra hard.
------
Chapter 9: Maestro and Magician
Overlord Maestro lay still in the wreckage of his own theatre playing dead and thanking his lucky stars that he wasn't actually dead in the collapse. His immunity to fire had saved him allowing him to become intangible flame much like the Radio Demon could become shadows.
Still he stayed and listened, quietly gathering information about his attackers.
The attackers had come in silent and fast, the first warning had been when he heard noises at the exit door as his theatre goers strangely backed up to the stage in a line for the exit after a performance started to grumble, then smoke had started to flood the theatre.
Everything and everyone inside had burned to ask. They’d regenerate in time, weeks later given they’d been incinerated into drifting ash.
Burning was an awful way to go.
So Maestro sat and Maestro listened silent. He heard voices, the unexpected but unforgettable voice of his killers from life made Maestro's blood run cold.
"The subhuman is dead sir" "We are sure the animal didn't escape again?" The disinterested voice of Heinrich Himmler conversing with Reinhard Heydrich, inspired such rage Maestro could barely contain himself.
If they had returned it immediately became obvious why they had targeted his theatre.
The theatre performance of The Diary of Anne Frank was a good a venue as any other for a nazi to attack.
Idiots, fanatically delusional in life and delusionally fanatic in death. How they clung to any sense of bigotry against race and religion in an afterlife that rendered the entire concept moot truly boggled the mind.
Maestro had died in a box for not matching their ideal of good breeding, he'd ripped out the throat of two Nazi's when he realised what that windowless stone box was.
The two had witnessed Maestro's rage and had him beaten with dispassionate eyes, threw him in the incinerator anyway and burned him alive.
As the voices faded away Maestro decided he was not going to let them live, the Radio Demon had his fun, it was Maestro's turn to orchestrate a symphony of screams!
“I don’t mean to interrupt your... whatever, but would you like some help?”
Maestro carefully didn't jump as he turned to the voice “Gambling Overlord Husk?”
Of course he’d spotted him amongst the flames, the gambler may physically resemble a cat in the majority but those eyes were all eagle.
“You offer help?”
Husk shrugged, “Head to the hotel, Carmilla’s there, we can get those Nazi fucks later with angelic steel.”
Maestro nodded, that was acceptable he paused and turned to the cyclop’s next to Husk.
“Ah miss bomb I trust that explosion was not you?”
Cherri Bomb looked rueful at the concept of an explosion that big not being her work.
Youngsters, “Nope, Some kind of cannon. I deal in bombs not missiles”
“Howitzer” Husk spoke up, “I recognised the sound, whatever they hit in that building, exploded and left a nasty low hanging residue of.. something in the sky or else I’d be flying right now” Now that Maestro looked he spotted small holes in the Former Overlords flight feathers as though the tips had been dissolved by acid rain.
“You were offering help?”, Maestro asked curiously.
“Hell’s going to hell in a handbasket, Alastor’s hands may be tied by the High Seraphim for now but he’s opened the hotels doors for those looking for sanctuary before the princess even suggested it”
The implications were interesting, Maestro guessed, “Weak sinners won’t make it to the hotel, their souls will be snapped up fast by torture if the rest of the ancient overlords are anything like the ones who burned my territory. The ones who do will be cunning, strong or armed with angelic steel. The perfect base for a resistance.”
Husk nodded.
"Very well, good luck finding whatever your looking for” Maestro bade his farewell and left the way they’d came.
Cherri Bomb side eyed Husk, “Any of that true?
Husk remained focused “Let’s get going, We still have to find Angel” What was he supposed to do tell Cherri?
‘Hell nah, they’re a live audience for when Alastor is let off his leash with the Seraphim to deal with the Ancient Overlords and cow the current Overlords into meek compliance for the rest of eternity’
Alastor would neuter him for that insight into his psyche should it be made public.
------
Chapter 10: Countess of Blood
Zeezi winced as the newly fashioned harness bit into her skin but stayed silent lest her new boss whip her again, she tried not to think who the harness was made of.
Countess Elizabeth Báthory as she insisted she be referred to as, instead of Sovereign Overlord Báthory, was bluntly put, a monster.
She had thought the Radio Demon a hypocrite of a gentleman for killing a woman even an overlord woman. She very much understood now with unwelcome clarity that some people just needed to be gone.
Watching as the clubs pool was filled with blood from the throats of people dragged in and abducted off the street by the countesses four favoured servants was horrifying in a way Zeezi couldn't, wouldn't put words to.
The panic as the sprinklers had turned on mid rave only for people to realise the water had been replaced by blood...
The world turning hazy, something in the blood acting like a sedative allowing Zeezi's people to be easily subdued.
Enough time and distraction for the vampire like Countess Báthory to handle Zeezi like a small toddler and decide she liked the saurian as a colourful and silent beast of burden with a saddle to go with the leash.
Light glinted out the corner of Zeezi’s eyes she kept her head down hair hiding her eyes as she gazed up at one of the clubs windows to meet a most surprising sight.
Angel Dust the porn star was peering inside the window of Klub Kaiju, he looked rather horrified actually.
Not surprising given the situation inside Klub Kaiju, it looked like a charnel house. Some sinners had been staked to the floor at the pools edge and used like refillable jugs to fill the pool at intervals, some were picked at random, torn to pieces and served on platters like appetisers.
Báthory the bat like sinner resplendent on a throne surrounded by chittering vulture sinners, all giggling like schoolgirls as they mutilated Zeezi’s people for sport.
Angel Dust pointed at her and made a small gesture with his hand that Zeezi as a club owner would recognise a mile away, a fist with the thumb out then tucking the thumb into fist. A silent question, ‘Do you need help?’.
Zeezi didn’t know what Angel Dust thought he could do against classical vampires, but any bar for a fistfight.
------
Chapter 11: Four of a Kind
The gunshots were loud enough to rattle the windows on houses streets away and recognisable enough that it led Husk and Cherri Bomb straight to it.
Vox’s head was propped up against Klub Kaiju’s front step flickering madly, His expression soured when he saw them, “Oh no, it’s you fucks again..”
Husk growled raising Vox to eye level, “Cut the chatter ipad, Where is Angel?”
Vox’s face shrunk slightly on the screen, “Suicidally fighting a Lolita Vampire Overlord, as if I didn't agree to free him if he got to the fucking hotel”
Vox yelped as he was tossed to the ground and walked over, “Ow! You fuck!”
The scene Husk ran into, skidding really, given the lack of traction on the blood slicked floor against his paws made him uncomfortable in many ways.
Although it was the scene of a massacre, the sight of Angel Dust firing everything at the Overlord, the fury and life in his gaze was breathtaking.
Husk’s eyes narrowed to pinpricks as he was pulled backwards by Cherri Bomb who hurled several Molotov's into the mess a wall of fire backing the Overlord into a corner with her attendants.
Angel Dust spotted them and ran over grining, “Husk! Cherri!”
Contained behind the blaze, Báthory roared loudly enough to shake lightbulbs from the ceiling and that was more teeth bared in Husks direction than he ever wanted to see again in his life. Alastor had nothing on this freak.
“Heaven forced Alastor to release the Overlords from the Airwaves, The hotel’s a safe zone, You’re beautiful”
Angel Dust huffed, “I kinda figured that when Christopher fucking Columbus made Tiffany Titfucker his favourite sex toy minutes after breaking down Vee towers doors.”
Angel clearly missed the last mumbled part of Husk's sentence over the roar of the fire.
“You’re free?”, Husk asked sounding hopeful.
Angel Dust shook his head, “Not until I get Vox to the hotel, Ooof!”, Cherri Bomb dumped a bag holding a certain glaring blue ipad into his arms, “Best you be the one to deliver him there then, don't want him pulling a Radio Demon”
Angel Dust wordlessly hit the mute button before Vox could begin swearing.
Movement out of the corner of his eyes had Husk throwing his cards with extreme prejudice, decapitated one of the creepy ladies in waiting who had made it through the wall of fire mid lunge. The fire separating them from the ancient Overlord was going out.
“Fuck Angel, you really got into a mess this time”
Báthory was as mad as Old Yeller before it got put down that much was clear, the death of one her attendants was liable to do that, just wait till she found out Husk Cards were made of Angelic Steel.
“Hey!”
Attention shifted to the still saddled and muzzled Zeezi. “Can you help me get this thing off of me?”
“How fast are you on foot?” Cherri asked instead, calculatingly.
“Whut?!”
“Look we can’t kill all these freaks, the airs contaminated and we aren't fast enough to escape on foot”, Cherri looked pointedly at Zeezi, Vox started laughing from his place in the bag.
Zeezi, who was still wearing a saddle capable of holding a vampire Overlord and five others at minimum“...You are not telling anyone about this AND AT LEAST GET THE FUCKING MUSSLE OFF ME!!”
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Chapter 12: Shark Week is Cancelled
The gas was suffocating him, except it wasn't. Tom Trench silently trudged through the basement corridors of 666 Broadcasting. The Vee’s had now truly fallen and contrary to all of his colleagues despair all Tom felt was a sense of relief. It had been years, decades really since Vincent Whittman had killed his way to promotion again and again through his own broadcasting studio then coerced ownership of the company from him.
Vox probably thought it was funny to hunt him down in death and make him a glorified reporter under him.
Robert Tom Trench was tired, decades of cowering in the shadow of that monster would do that. Thankfully Vox had never figured out it was him and not just bad luck who had loosened the bolts of the above-head hanging televisions. Robert who had used one of the gas mask television props to escape the building when the electrocution of Vox and his cultists had set the building on fire.
Vincent had never figured out that Robert Trench had burned the ownership transfer records, or that his final murder suicide the day after had never actually been broadcast to the world.
As far as the authorities were aware it had been a studio fire that had regrettably spun out of control.
Robert’s Entertainment Network had recovered via the buildings insurance and he’d even given a touching eulogy to those lost in the accident.
Vincent Whittman, remembered only as a picture on a wall that was quietly removed by Robert between cleaning's and never returned, the same with all the footage existing that contained Vincent’s face, accidentally irreparably lost.
How tragic.
The things Robert had done to Vox’s gravesite were especially heinous and best left unmentioned in polite company.
Robert Trench was also incredibly thankful that Vox had never figured out that Robert had approached the Radio Demon decades ago and told him of all Vincent Whittman’s above ground exploits, specifically Vox’s habit of emulating his victims in manner and dress before and after he killed them.
And my, my how the Radio Demon and Vincent Whittman had started to look like part of a matching duo as every day passed...
Which was how he became the Radio Demon's inside man in media, it was safer and much better compensated job than his previous stint in the American army as a munitions specialist before going into media.
Still Tom Trench had one last job to perform, unlocking the last door at the very bottom of 666 Broadcasting Networks basement to a forest of glowing green foliage Trench turned one last time looking back up the corridor. Removing his gas mask, jacket revealing a tired looking gecko sinner he threw them into the hallway.
Stepping into the doorway held the detonator up grinning in a way that would make his soul owner proud. He said what he wished he could have said back when he realised Vincent had murdered his co-workers, “Fuck your Shark Week and go fuck yourself Whittman!”
He pressed the button, listened for the sound of distant explosions, stepped backwards into the Bayou and slammed the door shut behind him.
------
Chapter 13: Ra Ra Rasputin
@ladyvsama gave me a list of potential overlords and one of them was not like the others… (Details are kinda sus on this guy, I suspect a smear campaign by his enemies, so you all get the song version)
Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!
Zeezi kept a remarkable pace tearing through hells streets, “WOULD YOU STOP FUCKING KICKING ME!”, She wasn't a horse however.
“Sorry Zeezi, I ain’t never ridden a dinosaur before… at least not like this” Zeezi chuckled despite herself as Husk groaned at the spider’s lewd tone.
“Hotel Dead Ahead!” Husk shouted.
“Oh good I was starting to run out of bombs!”, came Cherri’s cheery voice from the back of the saddle, lobbing another at their pursuers.
Báthory’s vampire sinners were still chasing them, Zeezi had stomped her way over and through vehicles at an impressive stride but was wise enough to pace herself and thus kept herself several meters from the pursuing vampires.
Husk spotted a problem, “Cherri? You got one of those bombs left?”
“Bombs for days mate!” Hollered Cherri flinging one into the path of one of Báthory’s attendants.
“How do you feel about making an entrance?”
The Hotels doors weren't open and they couldn't exactly stop…
Angel Dust held tight as though bracing for impact.
“Ooh, Permission!”
The wall, THAT wall specifically, exploded like tissue paper and Zeezi dove through losing her balance on the tiles and skidding to an undignified stop.
The vampires sinners screeched as they were battered backwards by the black tentacles embedded in the hotels wards and after a moment of circling wisely retreated.
Inside the hotel Husk, Angel Dust, Cherri Bomb, Zeezi and Vox lay sprawled on the floor by the bar in a pile of tangled limbs, letting the adrenaline of the chase fade.
Voices approached, Charlie in an argument with someone, Husk didn't care, pulling himself up the bar table and taking down bottles of the high proof stuff to share around to everyone else who had outrun a horror movie cliche.
“I can’t believe you let an Overlord in here without warning!”
Angel and Cherri started to giggle eyeing Zeezi who huffed and downed her bottle before getting to work on finally escaping the saddle.
Alastor’s protest’s sounded somewhat sheepish, “He is relatively harmless-”
“Harmless! I have never felt so violated in my entire life” Charlie stated calmly eyeing a sinner resembling a cross between a borzoi and a wet mop sat peaceably by the fire.
“And yet you were never this angry what Angel Dust said those things to me.” Alastor retorted starting to look rather irritated.
Angel Dust pulled himself to his feet, “So we’re kind of in a crisis-”
“You can fucking manage- Angel!”
Angel Dust dropped what he was carrying to the floor as Charlie realised who she was speaking to and tackled him.
The disgruntled burst of static caught everyone's attention as Alastor snapped his fingers, shadow minions appearing and setting to work on repairing the wall.
Alastor strode forward and Angel Dust looked somewhat nervous. “Wait Smiles! I made a deal with Vox, If I get him to the hotel and safe, he has to free me”
Alastor stopped and looked Angel Dust directly in the eyes making the spider feel ten times smaller, “I was under the impression you were owned by Valentino?”
Vox, unwisely started to grumble, “Val transferred him to me to get me out of the Tower when those spigotty fucks-” Vox yelped as Alastor approached him with murder in his eyes. “SMILES DON’T DO IT!” Alastor stopped himself from stamping down on Vox’s face, with effort he deserved a award for.
Angel Dust pleaded his case, “Look Smiles he’s a creepy racist prick but he’s basically powerless, let him in the hotel until it’s all over and I get my soul back. Please”
Alastor abruptly found himself the subject of far too many surprisingly effective puppy dog eyes, ew stop.
Alastor huffed, “...Well, I can appreciate a good escape clause gambit. Very well Vox may stay, providing he behaves and keeps ALL racist vocabulary to himself”
“Not a problem!” Baxter piped up waving a familiar remote.
“DON’T YOU-”
click
Vox glared as he was propped up on the table, “-fucking dare!”
“Not quite muted, whisper volume level should do”, Baxter noted smugly, “Should neatly fulfil the deals clause of keeping him safe if he can’t audibly antagonise anyone into hurting him”
“Angel Dust”
“Smiles?”
“Welcome back”
“Who am I seeing a visage from heaven on high?! Are you from Moscow? Because my heart rushes to you”, The Borzoi had made his way over to Angel Dust, grasped one of his hands and started flirting.
At least Angel Dust thought he was flirting but the Russian accent was so thick he could maybe make out one word in three.
“I see you’ve met our newest resident, Rasputin of Moscow. Former Ancient Sovereign Overlord” Alastor smirked nastily at Angel Dust’s karma come to collect, “I trust you’ll be a good mentor”
Husk darted in front of Angel Dust pushing Rasputin back, “Hey pal, buzz off!”
Husk’s interference did not have the intended effect as the borzoi sinner merely leaned close and crooned in his face, movement and tone conveying what his thick accent could not, “You must be vodka—smooth, strong, and unforgettable. Come with me kitty and I’ll show you how Russians stay warm in wintertime”
Angel Dust muffled his laughter as he watched Husk dive behind the bar hissing, the borzoi waving and getting distracted neatly by spotting Rooster, licking his lips and striding forward with intent.
“Sooo uh Russia's greatest love machine huh? Not matching your previous Overlord slaying MO there Smiles.”
Alastor blushed bright red, “...It wasn't intentional” Alastor muttered “He snuck up on me and did the-” Alastor made a waggly hand gesture indicating some unknown flirtation and shuddered, “-Thing, I just shoved him in the radio waves by accident, I was not best practised at it back then”
smack!
Angel Dust, Charlie and Alastor watched as the Borzoi who had moved on from Rooster and apparently spotted a now vibrantly blushing Zeezi, gamely bowed out after getting slapped “You’re stronger than a shot of vodka.”
Then he spotted Cherri, who abruptly stopped laughing.
Angel sniggered, “You know… Apart from the weird sex thing and his...incredible optimism, that guys basically exactly like you”
“Please don't compare me to that... mess of a man”, Alastor order bordering plea went ignored as Angel continued, “I wish I could pull off the dark and mysterious act to the point everyone around me wants to crack open my skull and nosey around the grey matter with a microscope”
Alastor grinned nastily, “Who needs to wait? I could do that right now!”, Angel Dust backed off with a grin.
Vaggi called down from the second floor irritated at the noise, perhaps? “What the fuck is happening out there! Oh! Hi Angel! Welcome back!”
------
Chapter 14: Food for Thought
Former Overlord Rosie fled to the hotel along the backstreets supported by Susan with the other Cannibals and their hysterical children in tow.
Sovereign Overlord Cain had returned and had not been pleased to discover his father dead, with the Cannibals assistance.
Ordinarily Rosie would have fought him herself with Alastor's assistance but the children were in a panicked frenzy just hearing his name.
Cain had been the first murderer, in hell he became far worse and far, far creepier.
The children, un-aging in stature and maturity but eternal in memory did not, could not forget.
After all, pre-history did not have things like the age of consent and Cain was always trapped in the past.
The princess would answer for this Rosie vowed, Alastor would never do something so stupid like releasing those old monsters without her input.
Despite the Razing of Cannibal Town, Cain wasn't the biggest problem, it was the two Ancient Sovereign Overlords who came after.
Two rivals who hated each other to the marrow and were not afraid of collateral damage, one the falcon headed founder of an ancient empire, the other the very same wolfish destroyer of that empire.
Hell was never going to be big enough for Temüjin and Timur to co-exist peacefully, therefore it and anyone in its path, burned.
“Rosie...” Susan for once looked somewhat worried, never a good sign. “Some of the children are missing”
Rosie’s claws usually hidden gouged the stonework next to her, rage mounting, “Just.. Get to the hotel”
“So we aren't going back to get them” It wasn't a question, she was seeking confirmation. Bitch.
Rosie took a deep breath, “If you think you’re strong enough to survive the literal all-out war happening back there be my guest, But I have to keep my people safe”
“Good to know where we stand”, Susan mocked in a tone that made Rosie want to kill her. Bitch.
The hotels doors were thankfully open, Rosie met Alastor's eyes the moment she entered and strode right up to him heedless of the sudden silence in the room. “Alastor, would you care to explain why I just had to evacuate the burning remains of Cannibal town from two warring Khanates and the First Murderer out to re-collect his harem of children?”
A strangled sound came from the couch, Lucifer choking on some hot beverage out of a novelty mug, “-His harem of what???”
Charlie who had begun to approach the two, similarly had gone completely grey as had most of the room.
Good, let this lesson engrave itself in their memories for all eternity, Rosie let some of her carefully chained fury show, “Cain, Son of the First Man Adam, The first Murderer and the first kiddie fiddler along with all his like minded sinner followers, are no longer imprisoned in the airwaves.
Four of cannibal towns children are missing. If Cain doesn't have them then Timur will, arguably a worse fate”
“I’m so sorry-”
SLAP!
Charlie’s head snapped to the side with the force of Rosie’s slap, she stared wide-eyed as if she could not comprehend that Rosie had hit her.
Rosie clearly already knew who was at fault.
Rosies voice was raw with a kind of tranquil fury that left its listeners paralysed, “Not once since the founding of the hotel have you considered the ramifications of your actions, continuing to act like an all knowing princess.
You Princess Charlotte, have never been human, never been a sinner. All you have are stories and poorly placed pity. You do not understand us and don't even make the effort to try.
You don't understand what drives people to sin, when the only choices are sin or sin worse!”
Rosie's gaze was unforgiving, Charlie and all those watching quailed beneath it.
“And now you’ve unleashed true evil upon hell. People, truly evil people who invented the very sins that would go on to become humanity's a one-way tickets to hell. So, whatever is happening to those children, whether they’re nailed to a wall or a cock, I hope it’s worth it to you, Princess.”, The word princess was spat like a profanity.
Charlie flinched when Rosie reached forward wary of another slap, even Lucifer tensing if more violence would come, instead the hotel watched as Rosie removed her shiny head councillor badge from Charlie's jacket and crushed it under her heel until it was in pieces.
With that Rosie walked over to Alastor who wordlessly handed her a room key where she left for their rooms with the rest of the dry-eyed somber cannibals without breaking stride.
Charlie knelt by the badge fragments, picked them up and left the room to silence.
It took no time at all for Lucifer to drag Alastor into a side room, followed by Husk, Angel Dust and Cherri, “What the fuck was that!”
The King sought to blame Alastor? Too bad. “The deal means I cannot harm anyone mentioned by the deal as it still stands” Alastor pointed out mildly, “Not you, not Heaven, not Charlie, nor the overlords I have been forced to release at your command.” Alastor, rather regretted adding the last part in hindsight.
“You knew this was going to happen..” Lucifer realised.
Alastor's gaze was steady, tone uncompromising, “I did warn you, repeatedly. Had I refused, You, Charlie and Heaven would have forced the issue themselves, and we would all be in a far worse condition with no warnings or protections in place at all!”
Lucifer felt the wards ripple at Alastor's words a reminder of the massively increased number of times the wards had pinged in the past few days as they rejected enemy scrying magic and the occasional long distant curse.
In that moment a light materialised before them causing the sinners to jump back with weapons drawn.
Luckily it wasn't anything dangerous merely a glowing portal with a familiar hyper seraphim leaning through it. “Hi! Sorry to intrude, I think your mobiles out of charge or your networks down because we couldn't text you or Charlie so I came personally!” Emily the sugar fueled hurricane chirped, “I’m here to deliver the weather report on St. Peters behalf!”
Emily’s wings drooped as she took in the various sinners and Lucifer lowering their weapons and leaning against various walls or appliances as if each of them were recovering from a mild heart attack, “Is this a bad time?”
------
Chapter 15: ...don’t do the crime!
Heinrich Himmler and Reinhard Heydrich observed the chained sinners down below in the parade grounds, the leveled former Heaven Embassy clocktower, “Do you remember when we first arrived in this strange land?”
Heydrich nodded, grim, “We were as the Americans were fond of saying, cocky”
Himmler sighed, “Our soldiers had already laid the groundwork for our rule, the entire German war machine ready and waiting for us to swear their souls to our cause on arrival, the so-called master of this realm Lucifer was absent. Even without the Fuhrer we were without rival...”
Heydrich sourly interjected, “Then the Radio Demon came”
“Then the Radio Demon came”, Himmler acknowledged darkly
There was a moment of silence or perhaps shared trauma.
Himmler spoke stiffly rubbing his forehead, “He caused more trouble for the Third Reich in four months than the entirety of the west's allies put together in six years.”
Heydrich hummed in agreement, “We will not make the same mistake this time. The Holy Roman Empire, The German Empire, Hitler's Germany…. We do not give up so easily we will turn this realm into the Homeland of the Fourth Reich, a world fortress and once we have succeeded in taking hell, we will take back the Third Reich then all of Earth. Is this not a wonderful dream?”
Heydrich turned to Himmler, “What about the Radio Demon? He caught us off guard, decapitated our leadership and picked off the survivors”
Himmler huffed, “The last time we did not have allies, this time we do. Caesar has been a most informative ally, he and his… partners have already taken two districts within the inner pentagram in addition to Doomsday District. Though they refuse to move into Uptown for obvious reasons.
The Entertainment District has been taken over by what seems to be Spanish conquistadors, and the three southern districts seem to be waging an all-out war with each other, not to mention the roaming bands of lesser Overlords"
“Suicidally stupid with the Radio Demon still about” Heydrich commented dryly, Himmler agreed, “We hold the center, our snipers have set up killzones at the borders, we will begin pacification of the north western district after all sinners within the central district have been brought to heel and added to the Reich. Respawn zones are being mapped as we speak”
“Excellent work.. ack! It seems we have a spy” Both Heinrich Himmler and Reinhard Heydrich snapped their gaze up at the same time, guns raising in unison and shooting with impressive accuracy.
Far, far above them gazing horror-struck at the now dark scrying orb sat the Council of Heaven.
It was not the only scrying orb in use several floated showing the dire situation below, although many of them had already gone dark.
"Oh this is bad, very, very bad" Emily fluttered anxiously as the functioning scrying orbs showed the Heaven Council the view of Hells sinners, people all over hell running and hiding from the absolute worst of the worst.
"How is this caused by containing the screaming weather phenomena!?" One of the council members asked.
Through a secondary screen Alastor had been reluctantly convinced to appear in the Heaven Hell broadcast without his signature static on, standing in a repurposed staff room looked thoroughly annoyed. Lucifer, Baxter, Husk, Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb were also present though Niffty had been sent to find Charlie.
He spoke evenly with the tone of someone who had run out of patience but was too tired to act on it.
"The phenomena known as Scream Rain happened in Heaven because of the interference caused by your hackneyed broadcast of Sir Pentious's existence to Hell."
"Baxter and I worked very hard on that" Sir Pentious protested, Baxter looking mutinous.
Sera interjected, “Another important issue is, how did they detect the scrying device?”
Alastor snorted “Your scrying devices are poorly designed, out of date and leak magic all over the place, Easily detectable to anyone with the remotest amount of power, it’s hardly surprising, back to the main topic” Baxter and Sir Pentious nodded in agreement even as several of the angels, likely the designers or the scrying orbs, looked like they wanted to cry.
Alastor tilted his head at Sir Pentius in acknowledgement gaze flat, "Congratulations on hammering so hard the square block went into the round hole with that broadcast, you certainly accomplished... Something."
Baxter looked contemplatively up at Alastor, "Are suggesting we damaged Hell’s Airwaves?"
Alastor sighed, "Hell does not have the natural capability to support airwaves, it has me."
There was silence at that revelation.
Sir Pentious looked thoughtful then spoke slowly growing more awed at whatever conclusion he was reaching, "Now that I think about it, Radio only came to Hell after you arrived in Hell, you've been supporting the entirety of hells technological infrastructure by yourself!?" Pentius’s voice had risen quite shrill towards the end of that sentence.
Alastor preened under the gazes of Angels and Demons who were rapidly starting to realise that the Radio Demon might not just be any regular sinner, "Funny isn't it? I've not had a lick of gratitude over the fact either."
"No wonder you're so grumpy all the time, Bambi" Lucifer remarked, Alastor visibly resisted the urge to punt the pint sized monarch like a football.
Sera interrupted, "Back to the Screaming Rain topic please"
Alastor continued to elaborate, "The Airwaves I created upon my entry into Hell functions such that I can directly interface with them and change them with a thought.
You should thank Niffty, without her darling ideas I would be unable to broadcast more than 10 meters around me at best. Essentially I create a foldable net of my power and stretch it beyond my range and create more as my range extended. Think of it as knitting a very long scarf without stopping or perhaps unfolding a very small piece of origami and finding the paper sheet large enough to blanket a entire room."
Pentious and Baxter boggled, "but that much power.. "
Alastor laughed, "Finesse, darling, each strand of net is a thread of magic thinner than sewing thread, negligible on its own but encompassing a vast reach. Perhaps a fishing net would be a better analogy"
Alastor took a sip from his mug, he did not like talking about his weakness.
"It was a tiring endeavour unpractised as I was, so I used the Overlord I defeated as relay points to anchor the Airwaves in place passively. The fact it held them in a virtual limbo as unconscious scrambled data was also bonus as no one in Hell had access to angelic steel at the time. I've improved since then"
Alastor grinned making some of the watching cherub’s squeak, "What your amateur broadcast hour did was set the airwaves I forged out of demonic power on fire with holy energy, connecting them to Heaven. This connected my network to Heaven and began automatically forging new connections in Heaven own, much shoddier and completely undefended broadcasting network. Bear in mind this was a fully automated process and when I am not broadcasting the default noise is screaming.”
Lucifer interjected snidely, “I’d have though you’d be all over a chance to broadcast to Heaven” Alastor took a deep breath, thought better of it and just whacked Lucifer with his staff. “My mother is up there, I am not exposing her to Hell, I already mentioned this on my broadcast or does your diminutive height also affect your range of hearing?”
Whilst Lucifer hissed at him Alastor turned back to the Council and continued speaking unbothered by the devil, “The demon energy based broadcasting network existing in Heaven was akin to storing electrical cables in seawater or acid, the cables corroded, the energy sparked and clashing energies now in full contact with each other then uncontrollably affected the weather."
Alastor wrapped up his exposition with a grin that sent shivers up everyone’s spine.
“The only reason I agreed to stop the broadcast is that had you tried to stop it yourselves it would have ejected all those trapped in the airwaves onto Heaven’s doorstep with their thrall armies and I will remind you again for the third time, My Mother Lives Up There!”
------
Chapter 16: Hazbin Overlords
For what felt like the thousandth time, Rosie took a deep breath as though asking Heaven for patience, “Vox, darling, Alastor is half-creole”
Vox head propped up on a decorative plate stand, still didn't get it, “What he’s got a favourite food?”
Rosie and possibly all the others in the room listening lamented, If only Vox still had a neck to squeeze, “Creole, as in Half-Ethnic Creole”
The buffering in Vox’s screen as he Voggled what Creole even was should not have been as entertaining as it was, then came the long overdue explosion.
“...Alastor’s black?!”, Error messages flooded his screen.
Before Vox completely lost consciousness he heard someone say something, “Oh good grief! No wonder Mr Southern Static Fuckass Bob dumped this racist pixelated tamagochi ass”
Oh fuck you Susan. Then everything went dark.
“Well that’s one way to start a meeting”, Zeezi muttered with a snort sipping a sugary hot chocolate out of the biggest tankard Husk could find.
Camilla entered the room with her daughters as unruffled as one could look in the situation, followed by Vaggi.
And what an odd Overlord meeting it was, given it was open to the public in a manner of speaking.
Angel Dust and Baxter sat beside Vox, Angel with Vox’s mute button on standby, and Baxter manning a radio receiver set up with Alastor’s help. Maestro was attending the meeting virtually from another part of the city narrating what was happening there to the hotel. The canny overlord had holed himself away in a safe area and surprisingly called the hotel via a slapdash ham radio to report on what was actually happening closer to the chaos.
“The Nazi shmucks are messing around with the power grid, the lights are flickering on and off all over the city, they’re up to... something.”
Nazi’s being productive, that sounded like bad news regardless of what they were up too, “Any news on our overlords?” Asked Rosie, who in the absence of blood was sipping something that looked like tea but could double as paint thinner.
“Looks like Zestial, Hatchet and Prick were waylaid trying to get to the hotel. Zestial and Hatchet got away but Pricks probably going to take a good long while to regenerate, looks like he encountered one of the roving Overlords Vlad the Impaler, who apparently lives up to his reputation” Everyone winced.
Just then the staff room door opened and in stepped Alastor and Lucifer.
“Heaven’s voting between sending the Exorcists into Nazi territory and letting me summon the Sins to deal with them”, Lucifer spoke.
Abruptly as if to affirm Lucifer’s places as the most hated being in creation the cutlery on the table as well as anything not nailed down began to rattle, people swore trying to maintain balance as the ground began to shake.
“Are we under attack!?” Angel Dust hollered as he was pulled into Husk's arms and sheltered beneath a table.
Alastor grip was firm on the doorway, looked alarmed ears swivelling madly. “No! But I can’t feel the other Rings in the Airwaves anymore!”
Maestro was swearing over the radio voice distorted by the static of a worsening connection, “Tha-- the fucks we---doing! They took out the fuc---g elevator!”
Lucifer’s mobile began beeping madly with alerts, he read the notifications and swore, “The Sins can’t get into Pride, everything's been shut off!”
The shaking finally stopped and everyone got to their feet, wary of a continuance.
Maestro finally stopped swearing and adjusted the audio to sound less like Alastor, “The fighting in the Entertainment District stopped, And it looks like the Nazi’s and the Industrial District reached an agreement of some kind.” Maestro trailed off suddenly sounding awkward and strained, “Carmilla why does the Industrial District have Angelic Steel anti-air ground emplacement artillery?”
Carmilla sunk into her seat under the accusing gazes of most of the room.
Niffty poked her head out of an overhead vent, “Hello! Has anyone seen Charlie? I’ve been looking everywhere!”
Ah, Alastor had wondered where that encroaching sense of impending doom was coming from.
------
Chapter 17: Truth Will Out
How had she ever though screaming rain was normal? Charlie Morningstar questioned herself as she walked through the, for once, silent backstreets of Hell. In the days since the Ancient Sovereign Overlords had been freed Doomsday District had changed in ways Charlie didn't know to categorise.
It was quiet, a thick mist enveloping the usually arid section of the Pentagram, for one apart from the occasional rumble of rubble being moved, the more bullet battered buildings were in the process of being pulled down by sinners with a strange uniformity about them, primarily lions, crocodilians and some with long quills.
They didn't notice Charlie was there, as she had long mastered the art of looking like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. A vital skill in walking down the Pentagram’s streets and not getting mugged within five minutes.
Luckily being wet, even from mist, was unpleasant no matter the species so most sinners were indoors, most sinners.
Charlie made the mistake of look too closely at the structure like thing the strange sinners had erected in one of the more open plazas, Charlie then calmly made her way to a nearby blown out building out of sight to vomit.
Bloody hands, claws, wings and paws fluttering in the wind. The Ancient Sovereign Overlords had nailed body parts to a dead tree in a parody of leaves.
Charlie felt abruptly homesick in addition to being physically sick, It was terrible here, how much worse would Cannibal Town be?
Susan had freely shared as much information about the missing children into Charlie’s ears as she could, likely in an attempt to upset her.
Susan the bitch likely hadn't intended to be helpful or give Charlie ideas but she had.
Charlie was going to find those kids and bring them to the hotel where they’d be safe.
Alastor had ignored her, her father had ignored her, her girlfriend had ignored her, basically everyone had ignored her.
Did they blame her? Charlie gripped at her hair and took a slow breath, now was no time to panic. Charlie pulled her hood up and walked out of the ruin, she still had to traverse further south.
Her blood chilled as a couple of the strange sinners walked up to her, their quilled bodies and flat faces blank of expression were hard to look at. The taller one spoke confidently directing her gaze to a poster on a nearby wall, “An announcement went out, All sinners are to report to the southern plaza, Hail Caesar” Charlie awkwardly copied their salute “H-hail Caesar” the smaller one looked at her with understanding and a winning smile, “New recruit huh, Don’t worry I was shy like you once, give it a month and you’ll be slaughtering the barbarians with the best of us!” The taller looked down at his companion and snorted “Shame, I always though your stutter was hilarious”
As the two descended into bickering Charlie walked quickly away following the directions.
She was heading in that direction anyway.
She had walked south for over an hour and now she was in the thrum of a crowd listening and jeering along to a speech as she carefully tries to pass through without being noticed. The things they were saying were the sort of thing her Hellborn classmates in school used to say about Sinners and it made her skin crawl especially unpleasantly given it was directed at her this time.
“-The hellspawn have stolen from us! They presume to rule us, When every facet of their civilisation has been copied from us because they are savage god forsaken beasts incapable of creating their own!”
The Lion on stage radiated an aura of power Charlie had only felt around Alastor, except whereas Alastor suppressed his power in polite company this Overlord flared his on full display.
The things he was saying were.. Vile. Was this truly how Sinners viewed the Hellborn?
Charlie jerked as a clawed hand came down on her cloaked shoulder forcibly directing her away from the jeering crowd. Charlie waited until the figure took them to an isolated side street, ready to set them on fire and run when the figure lowered his hood..
“Alastor?”
Alastor looked profoundly irritated and somewhat wary given his ears were on a constant swivel, “You really have walked into a right mess Charlie”
“Why are you here?”, Was he here to stop her? Were the others nearby?
Alastor raised an eyebrow, “Darling I simply have no desire to see you get yourself killed”
“Where are the others?” There was a awkward pause “They didn't come?” Charlie hadn't wanted to be followed but she had thought… She didn't know what she had thought.
“They were… quite occupied with their own matters” Alastor spoke dismissively, panicking like headless chickens and paralysed into inaction more like.
“Why aren't you killing them?” Charlie nodded her head towards the place they had left.
Alastor chuckled at the phrasing, “Unusually bloodthirsty of you but to answer your question, I can’t because of the ‘harm no one’ part of the deal, remember?”
Charlie went pale, then they both jumped at a large roar behind them.
“LOOK UPON THE FACE OF THE BARBAROUS THIEVING VERMIN!”, Alastor and Charlie spun around looking around the corner at the Lion Overlords roaring yell, but luckily it wasn't directed at them.
Charlie felt Alastor tighten his grip on her shoulder preventing her from running to stop the evil in front of her.
Imps, Hellhounds and other Hellborn in chains and they all looked terrified.
Charlie struggled as Alastor’s shadow wrapped its way around her limbs and frog marched her away from the scene.
Alastor growled lowly into Charlie's ear, “Don’t be stupid Charlie, neither of us possess the power to fight them at the moment, that mob will overwhelm and kill us in a heartbeat with sheer numbers and unlike myself You Won’t Re-Spawn!”
“But they’ll be killed!”, Charlie hissed back.
Alastor shook his head in the negative, “It’s a slave auction to raise morale, I have seen Overlord Caesar do this before decades ago, at most they’ll be sold and passed around at their next public orgy, You had no trouble consigning Angel Dust to sexual slavery so don’t start quibbling now”
The resistance abruptly went out of Charlie at Alastor's words, stated in such a factual tone that Charlie went numb.
At what Alastor judged a safe distance from the mob he released the restraints causing Charlie to stumble.
“...Do you truly believe that?”
Alastor was surveying the area for threats. “Believe what?” he asked absently.
“That I’d let people get hurt like that?”
Alastor's gaze momentarily turned to her searchingly, “You have before, many times don't you know?”
Distractedly Alastor began to list event’s, keeping an eye out for danger.
“Angel Dust many times, myself thrice, Husker and your father and let’s not forget the entirety of Pride Ring currently”
Charlie looked numb, “...”
Alastor's ears twitched “What was that Charlie?”
Charlie looked up at Alastor “...When were you hurt?”
Alastor's ears went right back in alarm as Charlie's gaze focused on him with laser intensity that made him freeze.
Alastor lamented that he should have kept his mouth shut, he wasn't made for such conversations.
He tried to get away from the fraught topic by being as vague as possible, “You didn't look for me after Adam injured me, You didn't even try to find out what happened to me in Vee captivity and you didn't even look at me after Vox’s little hissy fit.”
Alastor didn't mean for his voice to waver as he spoke but it did and then Charlie was hugging him, face buried in his chest, shoulders trembling as she shed silent tears and Alastor just felt.. so very fucking tired.
Emotions.
How disgusting...
“So what are we doing?” He asked tiredly, making an effort to change the topic.
Charlie mumbled something indistinct.
“After all we’ve come this far, It would be... a great pity.. to turn back”
“Alastor?”, Alastor looked down at her tone wary at the sheer alarm in it, had they been spotted by Caesar’s men?!
It was worse.
Charlie was staring at him and her hands that were covered in red.. as was her face, her face which had been buried in his chest was smeared with blood.
Shit.
------
Chapter 18: Identity
Alastor's wound had reopened and naturally Charlie was fussing, unfortunately being overburdened with guilt and adrenaline she was terrible at it.
Alastor let out an aggrieved sigh as he batted Charlie's hands away ignoring her wince as he conjured a bright silver sewing needle.
“You really are making a mountain out of a molehill, my deer”, he grumbled holding the wound closed and resewing it loosely.
Charlie wrung her hands helplessly, both of them were in an old warehouse right on the edge of doomsday district.
“You got attacked by Adam after defending the hotel and walked around like that for months without telling anyone!”
Charlie Morningstar really made panic an artform.
“I didn't even look for you because Vaggi and Husk said you were fine! Vaggi thought you flaked on us”
Alastor snorted, “Oh woe! The former Exorcist whose job description included putting my head specifically on a stick and the person I OWN think the worst of me, whatever shall I do? I may huddle under a bed with Lucifer's ducks and forevermore season my jambalaya with my sad, sad tears”
Charlie whined, “Alastor! this is serious!”
“As a corpse”, Alastor agreed, “Deerie in all honesty they both hate me, a lot of people hate me and I’ll lose no sleep over it”
Charlie sniffed, “I thought we were all friends”
“...” Alastor was not touching that sentiment with a bargepole, “You believed people you trust, should you have questioned things more? Maybe-”
“I’ll do better” Charlie promised.
Alastor smiled faintly, he’d believe it when she did it.
Charlie looked conflicted as she watched Alastor treat his own wound. Which was to be expected given her medical skills were more in line with rudimentary first aid than DIY open chest field surgery in enemy territory, “Shouldn't.. sewing it close actually close the wound?”
Ah, A important lesson her deadbeat father and absentee mother hadn't taught her? His time to shine.
Alastor held up the glowing green thread that seemed to pulse with unnatural green light, “The stitches I am using are purposely overloaded with an excessive volume of demonic energy, The angelic energy then goes for the stronger source of demonic energy, it tries to jump the wire like electricity and failing to hit anything, dissipates into the air.
Closing the wound however would trap the angelic energy inside my body as many of Rosie’s cannibals reported in the aftermath the first surprise extermination.
From their deathbeds.”
Charlie winced.
“And you need not worry, as an Overlord I am strong enough to burn out any infections”
“But it looks painful”
Ew, was that concern Alastor heard?
There were a few moments of silence before Charlie spoke up again.
“My dad could heal this!” Charlie offered somewhat jittery about the idea.
Alastor made a noncommittal noise as he expertly pulled the stitches tighter, “Even if he wanted to and I doubt he would, he cannot hurt sinners”
“Dad wouldn't hurt you!”
She likely meant well but that wasn't what he meant, Alastor sighed, “Charlie I really doubt he would risk his own well-being for me, even if I were unconscious. The pain, felt or not, would still likely trigger his punishment”
Charlie stewed in silence, “I’m sorry and I know I’ve said that a lot-”
“There was a whole musical number, possibly more than one” Alastor pointed out amusedly.
“I’m not good at this okay! I’ve never been good at this!”
“We have time, Try putting it into words” He offered, rummaging in his pockets for another roll of bandages.
Charlie spoke hesitantly, “When I was young I tried to make my parents proud, so I copied the Hellborn in my school, I was a model demoness! I could impersonate most of the...unpleasant... Goetia down to a T in my theatre class” Alastor knew when Charlie self-censored herself from calling someone out, she was really bad at it.
Charlie trailed off growing quieter “...but Dad isn't a demon and even if he hid it... I could tell he didn't... like the way I behaved”
“Hmmf, deadbeat” Charlie ignored Alastor in the Lucifer hating peanut gallery and continued,
“So I tried being like my dad was with me, singing, dancing, painting and I actually liked it”
“I could tell”, Alastor was again ignored.
“But then... Mom started thinking I was too soft for a Princess of Hell. She even called me and... It didn't go well... I upset a lot of people lately and now I feel like I’ll never be good enough for either of them... What even am I?”
Alastor gazed at Charlie, looking all sad and forlorn sat on a crate in the dingy warehouse they had broken into for shelter and sighed. If he didn't lift her spirits somehow they’d be stuck in here forever and nothing would get done, Also crying women made Alastor feel icky.
Eurgh, was he really going to share this?
“I understand, in a way I was just like you”
Apparently he was, Charlie didn't move but Alastor could tell she was listening.
Good, he was not going to repeat himself.
“My mother had brown skin and my father was white skinned. Nowadays it’s not so much of a problem and back then black communities would usually rally around their own”
Alastor sighed at the old memory, that was how these things came down to, that fickle word ‘Usually’
“My mother and I were the.. exception. My father was a monster and a hypocrite of the highest order, raping my mother and donning the white uniform whenever he saw the opportunity”
“Was he a doctor?” Charlie asked curious despite her misery and the casual horror story autobiography he was relaying causing Alastor to laugh until he wheezed despite the pain to his chest, “Oh Charlie! When we return to the hotel I am going to give you such a history lesson!”
Slowly his laughter subsided and he continued,
“My father was part of a group that saw black people as mistakes who should not exist, to be abducted on the spot to face some unknown fate or be killed on sight in a brutal manner as he could imagine”
Charlie somehow looked even more horrified, Alastor nodded finally done with the bandages putting his coat back on, “He was fond of lynchings, by now you should have the gist of what my mother and I put up with at home.”
He was getting Charlie so many history books and possibly hunting down whoever called themselves her teachers and eating them.
“Somehow I managed to secure an internship in radio, a miracle with my colouring in that era, no one need know I was mixed and I could bring home money to help my mother. Maybe one day we could leave to a place of safety.”
His gaze dimmed, he didn't like dwelling on the subject, “I came home that day with my first pay check, I wanted to surprise her…”
“I found her dead on the floor with my drunk father kicking her corpse”
Charlie remembered Alastor's once casual admittance of patricide and found herself reluctantly understanding, also no wonder Alastor hated her dad so much!
“I buried my mother and fed my father to the gators”
There was a hollow silence, there wasn't really much to say to that, Alastor cleared his throat sounding somewhat awkward, “The point is, I know what it’s like to be caught between two heritages and accepted by neither” Alastor trailed off, “Sometimes I wonder if my mother even wanted m-”
The warehouse ceiling crashed in with enough force that the ground cracked.
------
Chapter 19: I Was Young and an Actress
Despite falling through a ceiling the brawling sinners didn't stop fighting, clawing and violently stabbing at each other.
Alastor pulled Charlie behind him, too late as the sinners spotted the overlord who had put them into the airwaves, paled and abruptly fled out a window screaming.
Witnesses he couldn't silence, his least favourite type of enemy!
“We need to leave now!”
“You... can’t hurt them..” Charlie who had watched as Alastor made no move to pursue realised aloud, that’s why Alastor wasn't fighting them.
Alastor hissed as he pulled his jacket on hurriedly over the bandages hiding them from sight, “We need to cross into another territory before one of the old Overlords get here, Cannibal Town is the closest now move!”
They didn't get that far.
The palanquin was ostentatious and bordered on the ridiculous, gold gilt eagles and shimmering silver crocodiles held up by silent muscular sinners with dead eyes. Escorting them was a praetorian guard of various animal headed sinners armed to the teeth, some even had guns.
It wasn't remotely historically accurate but given she came from pre-history Alastor would give Sovereign Overlord Cleopatra a pass.
Possibly some style points on account of the gators.
Cleopatra was an odd demon, for all she was an Egyptian queen she hadn't manifested with any of the trappings of Egypt on her everyday demon form. She resembled a humanoid green fish with wavy green and white hair, her eyes a brilliant crimson with black eyelashes that flared out like wings. She’d not changed much from Alastor's last encounter with her, still wearing the same green dress with white sinner fur dress shoulder straps and an excessive amount of golden jewellery.
Her light green gills were fluttering in a manner that, Alastor had come to recognise in fish type sinner demons, indicated mounting panic and distress.
“Sovereign Overlord Alastor!” She hadn't called his that on her first meeting, what a upgrade from ‘uppity mongrel’. Ah the changes an age in the airwaves could bring, “What brings you to my territory on such a night?”
She thought Alastor had changed his mind and had decided to come after her for a snack? Good, Fear he could work with.
“Your territory?” Alastor questioned pointedly pulling Charlie towards himself and looking at Cleopatra who was not shifting her gaze from Alastor for a second.
“Not that I or my husbands have any objections with your visit!... have you found our locals to your.. taste?” Cleopatra sounded strained as Alastor idly held the girl she had never seen before in his arms, poor thing.
“Quite fortunately so!” Alastor gripped Charlie’s chin and made her look at Cleopatra before letting go.
“It’s getting rarer and rarer to find morsels uncontaminated by chemicals much nowadays, completely ruins the meats flavour profile” Alastor shot Cleopatra a deranged grin that made her visibly shudder.
“Worse still the new fad of thin being fashionable,” Alastor gave a sigh and a woeful look, “What an utter waste of seasoning on so little flesh”
Cleopatra was never going to win a game of poker, but even so her avoidance of the topic of her and all the other Ancient Sovereigns long captivity at his hands was quite admirable, “Quite. On another topic, Sovereign Overlord Alastor there is to be a Meeting in the Sovereign Overlord Palace seven days from now, to.. reassess our dominions and stations. Neutral grounds where matters of leadership may be discussed without conflict.”
Alastor laughed harshly and Cleopatra’s retinue jointly flinched “How entertaining! Very well! We will meet again within the week, now if you’ll excuse me”, Alastor patted Charlie's head with a malevolent grin, “I have a dinner date to get to!”
It was somewhat comical the speed at which Cleopatra’s retinue and Praetorian guards made a u-turn and marched back the way they came with far greater speed than they had arrived with, near rocking Cleopatra from her throne.
Alastor let go of Charlie, wiped his hands and let out a breath “Ha! Still got it”
“You bluffed them”, Charlie spoke impressed despite herself as she straightened out her hair from Alastor's manhandling.
“I defeated an overlord whose entire Overlord magic powerset gimmick was gambling at his own game, an inbred spoilt wannabe big cheese is nothing for me” Alastor sounded offended at the notion.
“Now onto Cannibal Town”
“For some reason I thought you’d have forced us to turn back?”
It was what anyone else Charlie had known would have done, though she was beginning to think she should start just asking Alastor for that sort of thing from the get go.
Charlie had never had that enthusiastic of an enabler before, it felt terrifyingly freeing.
“There’s little point now, We’re right on the border.”
Alastor pointed at the visibly marked border where ruined shot out buildings turned into Cannibal towns quaint and well ordered Victorian buildings.
“Depending on what Overlord is currently in charge we may have to get quite... creative.”
Alastor's ears were twitching, his staff switching through stations. The Radio Demon hissed in displeasure, “Most of the radio’s in Cannibal Town have been destroyed”
Charlie had tried to forget that Alastor could hear through audio devices but at least he wasn't a creep about it like Vox.
The station switching stopped, static fading and a harsh guttural voice came through, Alastor swore violently causing Charlie to jump.
She watched as Alastor put his head in his hands, eyes closed thinking.
“Alastor? Are you okay?”
He spoke without opening his eyes, “One of the old overlords is approaching”
“We could go around?”, offered Charlie surprised at Alastor's evident worry.
“No, that one's sense of smell is too strong, doubtless we’re already being tracked, I do not like going into situations like this unarmed” Alastor growled before his expression abruptly lightened as he had an idea.
It should be noted that the last time Alastor had an idea like his current one Vox kidnapped the biblical devil, blew Heavens Golden Gates off their hinges, tried to become God, had a mental breakdown, wrecked half the city and nearly started a inter-realm war.
In Alastor’s defence, Vox was just like that.
Alastor spun “Charlie, be the Hellborn Princess!”
That was a confusing statement, “What?”
“Act! Pretend to be like King Paimon’s wife and order him to let us pass!”
The memories came back to Charlie, King Paimon’s wife from a prototype redemption activity skit in the Hotel’s early days she and Vaggie had performed that had unintentionally had everyone in stitches.
The story of King Paimon divorcing his first wife, his first wife who was the epitome of spoiled princess and the reason Paimon stuck to legitimising bastards, swearing off marriage for thousands of years. Charlie didn't even remember what the moral of that story had been about.
“Wait?! Would that work?”, she refocused on Alastor and did a double take ‘Well, King Paimon’s Wife did have an excessively loyal and homicidal retainer’ Charlie though faintly.
Alastor didn't look happy as he remained bowed to Charlie in a perfect replica of the old Goetian manner Charlie had rehearsed with Vaggi, his smile an ugly rictus thing that Charlie only recognised as such after knowing him so long.
“Perform your heart out and we might just escape this night with our lives”
Despite the situation Charlie was warmed to know Alastor had been paying attention to her redemption activities so closely.
me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit
mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters
me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU
So I've had this idea for an Au of portal Stanley where he has a portal gun like maybe he had a thing with a Rick or he stole it or something. Ford didn't bring him back because Fidds did memory gun stuff or the journal went with Stan and it had something vital or another reason. So Stan does think his brother left him in the portal and because he's Stan Pines he's like "I deserve this." So he has the portal gun but the problem is Stan has no clue which dimension he's from so for the first ten years he's trying really hard to find his why home but eventually he think well Ford wouldn't want me back anyway so I guess I'll stop trying. And then the twins come to stay with Ford but during the Time traveler pig them messing around with the Time tape causes one of the twins(Mabel in my au because I love her). And she runs into Stan and they figure out there from the same dimension crazy adventures ensue
pixelskylines
stormborns
theartofmadeline
vaporwave
2087
blakekathryn
