Chapter 26

A Personal Decision

Oh, it was a wonderful idea to get out of the hotel for the evening. Alastor smiled as his friend Mimzy came down from the stage, having just finished yet another stunning performance. Jazzy Tonics turned out to be just what the doctor ordered. The beautiful music and entertaining conversation lifted his spirits considerably. Rosie talked about the colony and how the residents were still coming down from Alastor's last broadcast, which apparently had been the perfect balance of appetizing and ferocious. Mimzy said that even she went out for a little snack after hearing him tearing off limbs, saying that his passion was returning to his work. He laughed, claiming it never left, but was happy to hear that his show was becoming more entertaining than it had previously been.

"The hotel has kept me so wonderfully entertained," he told them. "But the princess' rules and desire for purer pursuits make me sometimes crave a bit of blood and violence. Perhaps it's starting to show!"

"Honey, I'm surprised I haven't heard more from ya," Mimzy teased. "How is that hotel not drivin' ya nuts already?"

"Ah, I've met such entertaining individuals there," he sighed. "Angel Dust has proven to be quite interesting despite my initial misgivings, dealing with the princess' fanciful ideas has kept me rather busy, and I've been graced with many wonderful conversations from Eliza." Hearing this, Mimzy puffed out her cheeks but otherwise didn't say anything. "Besides, if dear Vagatha learned that I was committing more time to my broadcasts since I started there, I'd never be permitted to stay!"

"Oh, as if they could get rid of you," Rosie laughed, haughtily. "You're the only reason that hotel still runs, dear. You're not going anywhere if they know what's good for them!"

He joined in the laughter for a moment before saying, "Well, for all of her thoughtfulness, Vagatha's temper is truly an entertaining spectacle. If she had half a mind, she'd probably-"

For a moment he paused, his ear twitching as a familiar radio clicked to life. Both ears started to twist and turn as he searched for the signal; what did Husk have to say that required use of his silent radio?

"Alastor, is everything alright?" Rosie asked, watching the familiar motions of her friend attempting to listen in.

"Ah, must be nothing," Alastor said after a silent moment. "Perhaps a simple mistake-"

"Somehow I knew you'd be early."

Alastor's ears perked up instantly, honing in on the signal and forsaking all others. Radios near enough to him clicked off to strengthen his connection. He knew that voice.

"You said this was business."

Static cracked between his ears. Eliza! She was… But she wouldn't, not after-

"Ah, but you have quite the advantage."

She was with Vox. Today! The same day that he…

Oh no.

The sound of scrambling signals started to fill the room, and the guests who had been nervous before were quickly getting out of their seats and leaving. No one wanted to stick around for a Radio Demon rampage. Even the few cannibals in the club began to move away; as much as Alastor was an idol for them, even they might not be safe if he goes off the deep end.

Rosie and Mimzy shared a confused glance, but their questions went utterly ignored as he continued tuning in. Eliza wanted to discuss some sort of business with his rival, and his anger spiked. Before, she had told him that her meetings with that heap of scrap metal and glass had nothing to do with business. This couldn't be a normal get-together; no, tonight was a different circumstance. However, the TV Demon refused to discuss business in the car, and so the next few minutes were filled with small-talk.

Alastor's grin strained as he couldn't help but wonder what was going on. How was he able to hear this? Why did she have Husk's radio? Did he sneak it into her pocket? He had skill with sleight of hand; surely that must be it. There was no way she knew he was listening or else she wouldn't be so brazen about what tonight was about, but he didn't dare tune out.

During this time, Rosie managed to briefly get his attention. "Alastor, what's going on? What are you listening to?"

"Eliza," he growled. "She's with Vox at this very moment."

"What?!" Mimzy cried, standing up. "Why on Earth would she be seein' that guy?!"

"Rosie, be a dear and explain the situation," he asked, "I wish to continue listening for now."

His friend sighed. "Very well." As the two of them discussed what Alastor told her, the Radio Demon continued his eavesdropping.

Whatever business she wanted to talk about made her correct his rival when he used a nickname, which meant she was taking this very seriously. When the small-talk ended, he heard the sounds of a crowd, followed by a loud beat from some sort of raunchy music that made his lip curl. Surely she would walk away from such a place; it was a subpar location to discuss her work.

And yet she remained, and his blood felt like it was boiling just under his skin. The more he heard, the louder his inner radio became. Angry buzzing replaced the scrambled sounds of cross signals.

"See, the offer is that you'll work for me."

No, he can't have heard that correctly. Is the signal too weak? He needed to get closer.

"Excuse me, my friends," he said, standing up and turning away from his table. "This conversation bears closer inspection."

"But Ally-" Mimzy began, but she got nowhere as the Radio Demon vanished into darkness. The last things she saw of him were his glowing narrowed eyes and too-wide smile; strained from anger. She clenched her jaw, allowing her beautiful visage to slip into something far more monstrous. "That little hussy; and we were having such a fun night!"

Rosie's own smile strained slightly. She was rather fond of Eliza, but if she was with Alastor's rival on a night like this, then that could only mean…

"It's her own fault for seeing that TV-headed freak," Mimzy cried, looking quite ready to tear someone apart. "Why should he be angry about her being with him? Leave her with the bastard; he'll be better off without her!"

"Mimzy dear, normally I would agree with you," the taller woman stated, folding her fan as her empty eye-sockets seemed to swirl inside, "but this is quite possibly a far greater offense than I anticipated from the young lady. As such, I must insist you keep those comments to yourself for now."

Mimzy reverted back to normal in a flash, looking up at her friend with a hurt expression. "What? Why?! Don't tell me you like her, too!"

"I do," she informed her short friend, "quite a lot, actually. But originally I thought this was a simple case of a fleeting fancy; taking advantage of a simple convenience. Alastor is quite fond of her as well, you know, so this matters deeply to him. When he returns, no matter how Eliza's outing with Vox ends, do not talk down about her. I don't think our good friend will be as forgiving of your ranting as he is of your flirting."

Mimzy looked down, clenching her dainty little fists. "She doesn't deserve his attention!"

"That's not up to us," Rosie reprimanded, "that's up to him. He will come back to us; he always does. And if he decides to tear up the town-" she gazed down at the club-owner with a cruel, hungry smile, "-then we will have a wonderful time out with him."

She stared at the spot where her friend had vanished, watching the trace remains of pain and anger his aura left behind. Even she had stated that he should just let her go if she wished to be free, but if the therapist was going to make a move against her old friend over a simple mistake, then perhaps she had been wrong about her. If dear little Eliza hurt Alastor in any way, then she would serve her heart on a plate at her next party. No one betrayed her friends- or herself- this way. Still, for the wendigo's sake, she hoped for the best. A man like him cares for little, but when he does so, he cares deeply, and she would not see him hurt like this.

Alastor traveled through the darkest places, chasing the familiar signal like a rabid beast. Every time he stopped to listen, his anger spiked higher and higher. At one point, he had to pause in his hunt to release a sudden burst of energy in the form of a bolt of red lightning, setting a nearby complex on fire.

"Is it professional to stay somewhere ya ain't safe when ya don't have to?"

No. No, no, no…

"Excuse me?"

'Yes,' he thought angrily, 'how do you know of this, you blasted fools?'

When Valentino stated that there was a spy at his hotel, he dug grooves into the nearest wall with his claws. Walking a ways to focus on listening, he dragged his claws further along the wall. The gouging got deeper and deeper as he heard that his own actions were what caused them to make a move tonight. Somehow, that damned spy got word of his attempt to devour Eliza, and they lunged at the opportunity offered to them on a silver platter.

By him.

That itch to scratch off his own skin returned; he allowed this to happen. Vox continued talking, berating the hotel and informing her of the damage her current job could have on her professional reputation. It was a brilliant move to do this tonight, when she was still quite vulnerable and likely agreeable to anything removing her from the dangers presented earlier. And taking a stab at her professional standings was a precise strike against her greatest obsession. When Alastor decided to join the princess' ridiculous plans, he did so knowing that his reputation might suffer. However, he was in an enviable position to care little for such things; he had the power to crush any who questioned him. But Eliza…

Eliza was a professional first, which made her reputation incredibly important for future prospects, and Vox hit the nail on the head by taking this angle. Damn him...

"Alright, I'm listening; what are the details?"

The moment she voiced interest, he continued hunting her down from the shadows. Everywhere he traveled, a loud angry buzzing followed. Sinners looked around nervously for the source, but he cared little for their existence right now. Instead, he continued listening as Vox explained the terms of his deal, and they were quite generous. Still, being a deal-maker himself, he couldn't help but notice that there were no detailed rules for dismissal. Yes, she could have this dream-job, but as the deal explicitly stated her soul would remain her own, she could be let go for no reason at all. The job was completely dependant on Vox's generosity, a trait he's not particularly well known for.

Still, that was easily lost in the rest; a generous salary, personal workspace, and a constant stream of troubled clients to busy herself with. That cheap box of garbage was pulling out all the stops, and every promise he made was one he was more than capable of keeping.

"Give me a minute to think, please. It's an awfully big decision to make quickly and I need a minute to process."

He felt a twinge of relief as she seemed to be stalling a bit, which gave him more time to find her. Still, his anger spurred him on as Vox began to insult him. Alastor snarled as he listened to the man call him a has-been; a lunatic clinging to his irrelevant, dying media.

That pompous, over-glamorized bastard!

Then Eliza spoke, and her words made him pause. "You know, people are enjoying 'classic' practices again. As a man who follows trends, you can't deny the possibility that radio might come back."

He didn't want to feel hope, but he felt as though she had somehow snuck in an insult towards his rival, as though reminding him that Alastor was still very much a threat to him. It was strange to think that, even now, she might be defending him in some way. Despite himself, he felt somewhat calmed, but no less focused on his goal.

Vox continued to ramble, but Eliza fell silent. He wanted to know what she was thinking; what was going through her head? He knew her professional side was seriously considering the deal, but would she really just leave? She had started to open up to the hotel, to the guests… to him.

Even Alastor, a man who cared for few and killed liberally when he wished, found it impossible to just walk away once he became attached to someone. Collecting the souls of those who became important to him kept them safe and secure under his power, and it also kept them from ever being able to abandon or betray him. It's not a selfish wish to want a little security, after all; especially when they always receive something in return. Besides, he was a far better master than most other overlords, so what's the harm in coveting them for himself?

But with Eliza, he had waited too long. In his desire to learn more about her, he became too relaxed and played it safe, allowing her to be drawn away when he wasn't looking. The mere thought of his carelessness letting a friend slip through his fingers made his grin strain outward, revealing every jagged tooth he had. Friends were such a rare commodity for him, which made them something he was desperate to maintain a tight grip on.

The worst part of all of this, however, was the fact that this could have been prevented. Only a few short months ago, Eliza had offered him that unspoken deal, a spontaneous action spurred on by his own encouragement, and it could have spared him this pain. If he had just taken her hand, Vox could have offered her his entire technological empire, and she could not have even considered it. She had offered him an out, and instead of being able to trust her fairness and consideration for him, he had called her a liar.

Perhaps he doomed himself long before that morning.

Finally, he found himself outside the establishment, and his lip curled up in disgust. The music suggested it was a place of degradation, and somehow he couldn't help but feel offended that she would even contemplate discussing business in such a repulsive setting. But then again, she had a stomach for the perverse that he simply lacked; perhaps that permitted her to see past what should have been a slight to her respectable standing.

Despite knowing he needed to intervene before he was too late, he found himself hesitating. Such a den of depravity made his skin crawl, and he snarled at the mere notion of entering. Then…

"I tend to prefer a written contract."

As one would expect, Vox didn't take kindly to the unnecessary and downright leery request for a more secure, written deal. However, instead of backing down from his irritation, she offered to be the one to write it. Alastor remembered when she offered to write her own contract for the hotel. There had been much excitement and eagerness in her tone, and a spring in her step as she ran off to work. Tonight, those things were missing. Instead, her voice carried a hint of mischief, of prodding, of-

"Are you mocking me?"

Of course he caught it, but Alastor couldn't help but feel confused. She had been so polite, so calm, and now she was toying with him? Why change her approach now, when the deal was within her grasp?

Vox switched tactics on a dime, going from persuasive salesman to a threatening overlord in but a moment. Alastor wanted to rake his claws through that cheap screen of his, and this drive pushed him forward, though first he gave himself a slight makeover. His suit switched to black with red pinstripes and lost the flared-out coat-tail, and both his ears and antlers disappeared from view. His eyes became white with golden irises, and his hair turned pitch black. Now he would be just another demon, and would go unseen by both his rival and his friend. As much as he wished to crash the meeting, her words made him curious, and his desire to see her decision now outweighed his desperation as he felt less sure of what decision she would make.

They were easy to spot, and he kept his distance by standing against the far wall, never taking his eyes off their table. The TV Demon's threat display made him smile; anything that made him angry was wonderful to watch. But now was the moment of truth.

"Take the deal, Eliza. Get out of that hotel and take a job that everyone can respect you for. Trust me, you'll be kept very busy as a member of my empire."

He resisted the urge to spit; as a gentleman, it was simply uncouth. Still, the temptation remained. Respectable… That coming from Hell's biggest attention-whore was a laugh.

Then his heart stopped as he watched that damnable sweet smile spread across her face. That professional smile…

No.

"I guess, when you put it like that…"

No!

"There's really only one answer."

NO!

Static poured from his inner radio as his façade started to slip, and nearby demons noticed the flashes of blood-red. There was one thing for certain as he watched her reach out her hand; this club and everyone in it would burn.

Vox watched as she reached out her hand and smiled. Despite still being irritated by her request for a written contract, he knew she'd be reasonable in the end. After all, it was stupid to walk away from such an arrangement. No one could offer what the Three V's could, at least as far as he's concerned. Rainbow Princess had her head shoved too far up her ass to see that what she's doing is screwing everyone over, and Radio Fucker never gave a rat's ass to begin with. Valentino would get his favorite whore back, Alastor would get the boot and Ms. Magne would get a much needed wake-up call. He was the only one who ever sponsored the therapist's charity work, and he knew that act wouldn't be forgotten. Leaving her feeling indebted to him had been a great idea, and it told her he had the resources she needed. Yes, this was inevitable, because to Eliza this is a perfectly professional-

Wait, what?

When her hand was almost in his, she flipped it under his wrist and took hold of it, using her other hand to close his fingers. The shock from the unexpected motion didn't even afford him the reaction of pulling his hand away, and he blinked in utter disbelief.

"Go fondle a radio dial."

At the other end of the club, Alastor froze. He recognized that move; the same one that condemned a deal that turned out would have been worth so much more than he ever imagined. And the suggestive connotation behind her words made him shiver in a strange way; how could her implied vulgarity have such an effect on him?

When Eliza removed her hands from Vox, he stared at the balled fist as though it was a foreign object. This… this never happened to him before. People always took his deals, even the bad ones, because they always stood to gain something important. This was his bread and butter, his life, and she just-

"How dare you," he growled, looking up at her with a 2D expression of absolute hatred. "I offered you one hell of a deal, and you spit it in my face? What the fuck are you thinking, bitch? Your career will die at that hotel, and that's assuming that bastard cannibal doesn't do you in first!"

"His attack was completely unprecedented," she told him. "Before this morning, he and I were actually quite good friends."

Vox's antenna sparked. "He tried to eat you!"

"True, but something about it still feels wrong," she shrugged. "As such, I can't say for certain whether it was a mistake or not. He just found out you and I were friends, and didn't take it well, but the attack still came out of nowhere." She turned to him with that professional smile; the poker face that he felt was mocking him with its mere existence, and said, "The point is, I'd rather give him another chance and stay with the hotel than work for a two-faced shock-hazard like you. At least, even when trying to eat me, Alastor was decent enough to give me some warning before attacking me, which resulted in him getting flung into the wall in the end. I can respect that kind of dedication to honesty!"

Suddenly she felt a familiar, foreboding presence behind her and froze. "Well, that may just be the dumbest thing I've ever heard." A pair of hands grabbed her hard by the shoulders, while another grabbed her wrists and held them behind her back. "Didn't take ya for an idiot, but guess I gave ya too much credit. Fuckin' shame; but hey, I always love breakin' a willful bitch. We'll get that statement outta ya yet, you little-"

Before he could finish, he felt a strong force push him away, effectively prying him off the much smaller woman as two large, black wings sprouted from her back. The world around her started to chill as frost began to appear on nearby surfaces, and nearby lightly-clothed workers shivered as they moved away from the danger.

"Voxy?" Valentino hissed, looking at his partner. The TV Demon looked downright livid, but also a bit hesitant. Apparently, whatever was happening, he hadn't seen it coming either.

By the time they returned their attention to her, she had a condescending aura around her that even made Alastor hesitate. The professional smile was now accompanied by a straight-backed, downright imperious posture, punctuated by fair horns that wrapped around her head from her brow and a cloak made from her folded wings.

"Oh, how unfortunate," she taunted. "You seemed to be under the impression that I was completely helpless."

"Don't. Mock. Me!" Vox's screen started to flash as his rage drove his transformation, wires sprouting from his back as he gained a significant amount of height. "You're not the only one with unshared information, bitch!"

She simply shrugged. "I expected more." Stifled laughter emanated from somewhere in the club, but she wasn't sure of its origin. Somehow she got the impression it had to do with her taunts, but perhaps she was being too arrogant to assume someone was listening. Unless...

Valentino drew out his pistol, pointing it at her with a nasty glare. "That's enough o' that, you fuckin' whore." The gun was aimed right between the eyes, and he spit in her direction. "Turnin' down that deal was a fuckin' waste, and we ain't lettin' ya walk away after pullin' that. So I'm offerin' you a new deal; you come willingly, and maybe I'll be gentle with ya if the mood strikes me. Best offer you're gonna get."

Her only reaction to his threat was to tilt her head slightly. No verbal response, no facial reaction, not even a slightly fearful sound. Just cold, condescending silence.

"You fucking bitch." Vox moved in with his wires, and she barely stepped out of the way. Smooth movements, easy footwork and a bored expression drove Vox into an absolute rage, and even Valentino had to move out of the way as the TV Demon started to let loose. The tell-tale sound of building electrical energy told the pimp that he needed to clear out, or else he was going to get fried along with everyone else in the building.

Now felt like a reasonable time for Alastor to intervene. After all, a gentleman should never abandon a damsel in distress. As such, he dropped his false image and strolled forward, feeding off the fear as recognition made the remaining patrons and performers panic.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." The two overlords snapped their heads around, staring at the red-clad deer in disbelief. He raised a hand with a cheerful grin. "I'm afraid the lady has declined your offer. It's quite rude of you to persist in such a forceful manner!"

"How the fuck did you find us?" Valentino spat, pulling out a second pistol and aiming it at the opposing overlord. "You ain't gotta say in this, ya damned relic."

"On the contrary," he growled, his smile stretching to just under his eyes, "I have everything to say in this. She chose to return to the hotel; and that means-" Symbols swirled as signals passed through his eyes. "-you're poaching what belongs to me."

A snap of his fingers was all it took, and war ensued. Tentacles appeared from another realm and started tearing the club apart, while Vox grew significantly in size, wires sprouting out from his back as his screen's image glitched out completely. The energy already built up started to release as random streaks of blue electricity, striking out at nowhere in particular in a similar fashion to a plasma ball. Any demons remaining in the area were shocked or torn apart, leaving bloody smears and charred remains in the wake of the chaotic battle the two rivals were gripped in.

Valentino, however, shifted his focus away from the two media demons, turning his attention instead on the therapist. Watching the chaos with raised eyebrows, she was distracted as he aimed both pistols her direction.

"Gotcha, bitch," he muttered. Pulling both triggers, he smiled broadly when she turned in surprise, but grimaced when he saw distortion swallow the bullets, leaving two wisps of black vapor behind. Suddenly a shadow bearing a painfully familiar form appeared between them, smiling malevolently. "Oh, you've gotta be-" A black tendril interrupted his thought, grabbing one of the pistols and crushing it along with the hand that was holding it. "ARGH!"

The shadow turned to Eliza with a bow, gesturing towards the exit with his cane. She turned to watch the battle for a moment with a blank expression, and the shadow tilted its head questioningly. Looking down at him, her expression became quite tired, but she didn't say a word to the servant. Despite his master being very busy, she was still rather uncomfortable being near even an extension of himself after he tried to eat her, but decided against acting rudely to him given that the man came to her rescue.

With that, she took the open invitation and turned, walking away from the chaos. There wasn't a word in any language adequate enough to describe how absolutely done she was with today, and if Alastor wanted to celebrate his victory with a large-scale brawl, he could probably handle himself just fine. Besides, she had a long walk back to the hotel, and the sooner she started, the sooner she-

When a portal appeared in front of her, she flinched away at the sight. It was rimmed with gold and black writhing lights, similar to what the tentacles appeared through. However, she felt relief when she noticed the familiar, shimmering shapes and colors of the hotel lobby on the other side. The shadow appeared beside it, leaning on his cane with a broad grin as he waited for her to pass through.

Despite enjoying the imperious feeling, she dropped the condescending aura entirely for a moment and smiled gratefully at him, happy to be spared the long trek back. "Thank you." He tipped his hat as she passed by, twirling his cane to dismiss the portal the moment she made it all the way through.

He returned and became one with his master, sharing the memories of Eliza's departure and gratitude. However, Alastor wasn't able to dwell on it for long, because he heard the sounds of building electricity and realized very quickly that a strategic retreat was in order. Indeed, he vanished into the shadows as both of his opponents had their attention diverted by tendrils, and watched from a rooftop across the street as a burst of light shone through the club windows before they were blown out entirely.

Vox's EMP blast had caused quite a show for the Radio Demon, who smiled down from his elevated position. Transformers sparked, some blew up entirely, and many powerlines caught fire. It was always such a treat to drive his rival to use this power; it proved to be a downright exhausting release of energy. His smile stretched to his gums as he saw the two overlords retreat to their limo, which pulled up to the front the instant they made it out. Vox's screen was glitched and cracked in several areas, and his suit looked battered and torn. Valentino's glasses had broken rims, his larger antenna was shredded and he was bleeding in several spots. The two drove away, abandoning everyone inside to their fate as they tucked their tails and ran, retreating to the studio for safety.

Oh, it felt so good to see them so thoroughly beaten.

Chuckling darkly, he shadow-stepped down to the ground when they disappeared around the corner. The tentacles disappeared back into the void, and everyone on the street ran at the sight of him. Despite his sudden hunger and the tired pull on his eyes, he turned and made his way back to the hotel, deciding to take the slower route. This would give Eliza time to go to bed, and he would have time to think.

Her cold detachment, while normally something that irked him, was so gratifying tonight when used against his rival. When he attempted to compare it to her reaction to that morning's unfortunate events, it was like she was a completely different woman. This morning's heat as opposed to the frost that spread around the club, her bestial nature instead of that evening's imperious, demonic visage, the ferocity she had when fighting Alastor rather than the cold condescension she displayed towards two of the Three Vs…

Now he saw what was so obvious to Rosie. His attack had been nothing short of a betrayal of her trust, and he would need to earn it back with time, but Vox… that hyped-up box of cheap tricks never had a chance.

But Alastor did, and he would not waste another second being idle. His shadow appeared beside him with a devious smile on his face, feeding off his master's renewed zeal.

"Finally, the day is over!" Alastor said to the shade, who nodded eagerly. "Normally I'd say it's a wonderful night for a stroll, but letters don't write themselves! Come; let's retire to my office for the evening. There is much planning to do!"

Enjoying the slow pace of his walk, he took his time making plans. The letter was obvious, but there was a goal now. By turning down a deal he was certain she'd take, she proved not only loyal to the hotel, but verbally stated her loyalty to him. That meant that, if he remained mindful, their friendship could be restored. Still, Rosie's observation could become quite troublesome.

If she thinks of you in a romantic light despite knowing you're disinterested, then what's to stop her from accepting such attention from someone who offers it freely?

The thought of sharing her with another made his inner radio scream, sending nearby demons scattering long before they even saw him coming. However, he heard Vox say she refused to give her soul to anyone, and if that was true, he needed to find a way to change her mind.

One way or another, she would belong to him in the end, but if it required them to have more than a platonic relationship, that could prove to be somewhat problematic. The sooner she became comfortable in his presence again, the better.

Well, at least she was finally able to fall asleep, though it seemed that hoping her exhaustion would keep her out of that monochrome room with Id was too much to ask. However, that wasn't the strangest part of the dream. No, the strangest part was the pictures on the wall. Accompanying the two pictures of Alastor were three new ones. The first is Angel Dust pole-dancing, another has Fizz standing on stage taunting his audience, and the last is of Angel and Husk taking shots at the bar. That, and Ego didn't remember Alastor's pictures having such ornate frames…

"Love the redecorating," Id praised with a smirk. "Finally bringing some color into this place. Good thing, too; the black and white theme was starting to drive me nuts."

Ego, however, was busy writing on the clipboard. "So, it would seem that whenever a serious decision is made, something changes in the room. Interesting."

"Only pictures so far," Id observed. "Wonder if anything else could pop up?"

"But why is the room changing at all? It should be constant, unless the room is somehow tied to Superego?"

"Nah, Superego is constant," Id corrected. Then, her eyes sparked as an idea came to her and, by extension, Ego as well. "Unless we gave you the wrong name! That would explain why I can't stand your ass!"

"And why we never see eye-to-eye. Our ideas clash, but we've never really been in agreement on much."

"Wait, we didn't agree on Alastor," Id mentioned, looking up at the two pictures of the Radio Demon.

"We both agree to being attracted to him, we simply don't agree on his candidacy as a potential partner… Perhaps the attraction is enough." She continued writing, mumbling to herself as she did so. "So Ego doesn't have an actual persona, but is the room itself. Strange, but interesting in a way."

A devious little thought crossed Id's mind, and her eyes sparkled dangerously. "So, if we chose to work for that dick-head overlord, would the room have reset back to what it was?"

Superego, formerly known as Ego, looked up at the pictures once again. "Quite possibly."

Id's expression morphed into a downright wicked grin. "So, is that your way of admitting that focusing on our career is suppressing our development as a person?"

Superego snapped her pencil in half, glaring a hole into Id's skull at the insinuation.

Author's Note:

So, before anyone gets offended or something, I'm not insinuating that every career-focused person is lacking as an individual. It only applies to Eliza, who tends to use professionalism like a crutch.