The Red Death was a little more than half-packed, which, as far as Ellie the hellhound bartender was concerned, was a really good night for the club. Seemed that this new rock band drew more of a crowd than her boss gave them credit for.
The MurderPonies had an interesting assortment of demonic musicians. A partially mechanical teenager on bass or keyboard (depending on the song), a punk red-haired hellhound in literal stitches on drums, green skeleton on lead guitar, and a black swan demon on lead vocals.
Most of the patrons came to the Red Death to get drunk off their asses and maybe get laid, but a surprising amount of them were actually sticking around for the music. To top it off, none of them were starting a drunken brawl or even shouting lewd remarks at the bandmates. Maybe they were staved off because the mechanized girl wasn't even in her twenties, as a surprising amount of Hell's denizens had more class than that. Maybe it was because anyone who messed with a hellhound drummer or her friends would likely find their entrails splattered on the ground.
Or maybe it was because the entertainment for the night was just that good for once. The Red Death didn't normally get any real talent to perform for the club. Even Ellie couldn't help but enjoy the music as she kept nodding to the rhythm and finding herself dancing as she took drink orders.
Meanwhile, for several glorious minutes the band's lead singer Odile felt like a queen. For once she was in control. She didn't have to adhere to anyone else's standards of how she presented herself. Not the slut-shaming mortal world, nor the indulgence-crazed Hell. Just her own, and she was proud.
It seemed this evening it had become most appropriate that the club was called "the Red Death", because an unusually well-dressed demon clad in crimson and black stepped in.
At first no one noticed his presence, but then Ellie spotted him and nearly dropped a glass, surprised at how ostentatious his outfit was. Most patrons of the Red Death were Goths and punks with their baggy torn shirts and fishnets worn like sleeves. Even Ellie, who looked like a hold-over from the nineteen-seventies with her long wavy blackish-red hair and vaguely disco outfit, was dressed in all black.
The crimson demon stood by the bar, so she decided to have some fun with him.
"So where is it?" Ellie joked with a playful grin.
The crimson demon raised an eyebrow, his own grin not even making a twitch. "I beg your pardon?"
"Your copy of 'Don Juan Triumphant.' Aren't you gonna demand the band play it for you?" Ellie teased.
"No, I don't believe I have such a manuscript…" Apparently he thought she was being serious.
"Are you kidding me?" She leaned on the bar and explained, "Dude, you look like the Red Death, in a place called the Red Death, looking pretty overdressed compared to everybody else here."
"Ah! 'Red Death!' An Edgar Allen Poe reference!" The crimson demon laughed. "Most amusing!"
Ellie rolled her eyes. He was no fun; he didn't even get her Phantom of the Opera joke. Judging from his transatlantic accent he must have been from the nineteen-twenties or thirties, so of course he was a total square. She resumed cleaning and putting away glasses.
No, the crimson demon wasn't here to have the band play an original piece. He had heard through reputation that the Red Death was another dive where drunken fistfights were a nightly event, to the point where they had to hire a hellhound as a bartender to break things up in between drink orders. However as of late there had been less brawls than usual. Not since the MurderPonies started playing there.
He eyed the dark-haired lead vocalist. He had other plans in mind.