9:18 am
In the right side pocket of a pair of comfortable shorts, a Hellphone buzzed. A pale hand soon reached down into the pocket to grab the communication device, upon which, it was held up so that its screen could reveal the number of whomever was calling the phone's owner.
Jersey, who was sitting on a sofa not far from Vagatha, could see that the number was unfamiliar to him. With this in mind, he answered in a purely business related tone.
"Jersey's Plumbing and Electrician Services, how may I help you?"
"Hello!" Said a raspy voice on the other line. "We've noticed suspicious activity on y-"
Jersey ended the call with a growl. He then made the necessary actions to block the caller from reaching him in the future. "Stupid son of a bitch..."
"What was that?" Vaggie, who was polishing her combat knives, overheard the vulgarity.
"Another scam caller. That's the sixth one this morning." Jersey said in an irritated tone, gesturing to his Hellphone.
"It is Hell." Vaggie said remindingly.
"You don't have to tell me twice. It just pisses me off having to be constantly reminded by random sinners. They aren't even being subtle about their bullshit artistry." Jersey leaned back in the sofa he was sitting on, trying to keep his cool.
"It's not the end of the world." Vaggie said, not completely understanding Jersey's level of agitation. "Besides, aren't you supposed to prioritize the hotel first?"
"I do." Jersey replied. "If there is an issue you need me to take care of, then by all means, I'd be happy to get right to it."
Vaggie became wide eyed before averting her gaze. Jersey had been quite effective in repairing the hotel and installing new light fixtures to modernize the building. The only thing that came to mind was the badly damaged half of Baxter's previous room. Even then, the ruined dresser in the room had been taken to a garbage dump and Jersey had patched up or replaced the sheetrock and floorboards that had taken visible damage.
Frankly, he was left with nothing else to do, and his recent pursuit of hobbies to pass the time had not gone particularly well. The recent debacle with Niffty at Lake Maul was still fresh in everyone's mind.
Jersey nodded at her silence. "Precisely. There's nothing to do. Besides, a steady income in a job that isn't sin related is a nice boon, and I despise being idle. So..." He shrugged, letting his arms fall limply into his lap. His mind was out of words to explain his feelings. "...yeah."
"Sorry." Vaggie said awkwardly.
Jersey shrugged again. "Not your fault. If it was, I'm impressed by your voice impression skills. Not to mention the number of burner phones you have on hand."
Vaggie chuckled at the joke. "Well, don't give up hope, I guess." After briefly inspecting her newly shined weapons, she began to put them away using the only magic she had available: the same magic that allowed her to summon and conceal her spear. "I'm gonna check on Charlie. Apparently she's been finalizing new rules to prevent any future disasters or troublemaking in the hotel and wants me to double check them with her."
"Tell her I said good luck with that."
"I'm sure she'll appreciate that." Vaggie stood up to head towards Charlie's office. Now, only a stoically drinking Husker and Jersey remained in the lobby.
The conversation had been overheard by the demonic cat. "Ya know, drinkin' helps me pass the time." Husk suggested from the concierge desk, putting down a middlingly satisfying bottle of gin.
"I don't really feel like drinking. It's too early." Jersey explained, looking at the time on his Hellphone.
Husk gave a humorless laugh. "Too early for you, maybe..." He took a generous gulp of his drink again before putting it down loudly. "What about a game of poker? Wanna try your luck?"
Jersey lifted his head with a raised eyebrow at the offer. "That depends, do I have to put my hard earned money on the line?"
Husk almost looked insulted by the implication that no stakes would be made. "Hell yeah you do. I'll do the same with my fuckin' money, just to let ya know. So how about it?"
'Not really much for taking chances, if I can help it...' Jersey thought as he shook his head. "Maybe some other time."
A disappointed look crossed Husk's face. "Suit yourself ya borin' fuck."
Jersey sighed through his nose, not appreciating the back handed insult. He rose to his feet. "Well... what if we tried singing one of the greats from our time? Remember when we sang some CCR?"
Husk gave a dismissive shrug. "That was weeks ago, Jersey. Besides, I was a lot more plastered than I am right now."
Given that Husk skillfully played a guitar during the one time they had a moment of musical camaraderie, Jersey found the answer a bit hard to believe. "Come on Husk. Don't you wanna try something different from just standing miserably at the front desk with liquor in your hand?"
Husk's eyes flinched at the imploring, but he corrected his cynical mask quickly. "At the moment, not really."
Jersey shook his head, resigning himself to the fact that, once again, he was left with nothing to do, whether it be recreational or professional. He walked away from the sofa, too full of energy to lay about or take a nap. "Fine. I guess I'll just take a walk. Maybe I'll get an actual call for my services while I'm out."
Surprise flashed in Husk's eyes, but he shrugged at the sudden decision. "Try not to get shanked while you're out." He called out from the desk.
Walking to the sign out sheet hanging from the wall next to the door, he wrote the time of his departure and his name on an empty row. Without another word, he briskly stepped out the door to the front of the hotel. Aimlessly, Jersey took a right, heading northwest.
The buildings to his left and right were in various states of well-being, from dirty, but functional to utterly hazardous. Only a few demons were milling about the neighborhood, most of whom took a point of keeping their distance from the hotel. Jersey, in turn, kept himself from sharing eye contact with any of the strangers about him, for good reason.
'No need to look like you're challenging anyone.' He thought as he heard the sound of burning. In the periphery of his right eye, he could see a metal drum holding burning material being surrounded by three reptilian demons for warmth. A few eyes looked his way, but the sinners said nothing, caring more for the warmth of the flames before them.
Jersey continued walking along, his senses sharp, but his mind focused on finding something to pass the time. Walking could only do so much to quell an uncomfortable energy that he wanted almost desperately to expend. Waiting for a job opportunity or trying to look for a hobby would not be sustainable.
Three blocks down stood one of several brownstone apartments. Though not completely dilapidated, it had one busted window and a beaten stairwell leading up to the front door: the recipient of multiple firefights and the occasional scraping of an Exterminator looking to hunt down an unlucky sinner out in the street. The building was a relic from the 18th century, but it had withstood the test of time and provided sufficient shelter to many a demon. It had only two occupants, and they were currently busy with an unfortunate infrastructural problem that had been plaguing them for two days.
"Oi, Orville! Where is that damn tape?!" The cockney voice belonged to a tall, lanky demon with pale fur and the features of a stoat. With a long snout, crooked sharp teeth, and beady black eyes, he was dressed in a brown coat overtop a tan work shirt with matching brown pants and loafers. A wool newsboy cap was atop his smallish head.
Desmond was his name, and he was currently emptying out one of three buckets from the foyer, pouring it out onto the street. A major water pipe was leaking in three places, and it had made a mess of the first floor of the only home that he and his brother lived in. Much of their time had been spent on cleaning up the area where the water had pooled the most before trying to tackle the source of the leaks.
A much stouter weasel demon ran into the foyer from the kitchen, breathing heavily. Orville was a full foot shorter than his brother despite being a year older than him. On the other hand, he was a full eighty pounds heavier, with a portly belly to show for it. His head was wide, with tall jowls, equally dark and beady eyes, and a snout that was just as prominent as Desmond's. Orville's fur was likewise pale, and slightly worse kept than his brother.
His attire was a copy of his sibling's, but there were slight differences. The coat that he wore was slightly lighter and his work shirt was puke green. The wool that composed his cap was also greenish in its tint.
"I *phew* got it, Dez." Orville had struggled to find the duct tape that was the one size fits all tool for patching things up at their apartment. His lackluster stamina was showing itself as he leaned against a doorframe, huffing and puffing in mild exhaustion. "We got the laddeh set up propah, don't we?"
"Of course we do!" Desmond cried out as he pointed to the object in question. "Whaddya take me for?!"
The standard size ladder was at the center of the room, allowing one to have access to a new hole in the ceiling. The sheetrock that once made up the area had to be busted out to find the leaky pipe in question, but neither of the Mittens brothers gave a damn about having pretty living quarters when they were both living almost paycheck to paycheck.
"Now, yew unroll some of that tape, I'll apply it teh the pipe." Desmond instructed as he carefully stepped up to within reach of the exposed pipe.
"Are ya sure this'll work Dez? I jest been thinkin'-"
"Thinkin'!? For God's sakes, Orville, what 'ave I told ya about thinkin'? It gets ya nowhere fast."
"Can't we jest get someone teh replace the bloody pipe?" Orville explained in spite of his brother's skepticism. "We're kickin' the proverbial can down the bloomin' road if yew ask me."
"Well, I'm not asking you 'bout nothin'. Now get that tape unrolled, or I'll make yew climb this rickety piece of shite."
Orville sighed heavily. He knew arguing with his brother was a pointless exercise. Without another word, he began to meticulously peel off a strip of duct tape. Unfocused with his simple task, he suddenly realized that there was only one small piece of tape left, and it was less than four inches in length.
"Uh, Desmond..."
"'Ave yeh got the bloomin' tape or what?" Desmond called, leering at the leaking pipe before him. "'And it up, yeh slowpoke!"
Orville did as requested, and Desmond hastily tried to seal off the thin stream of water on the left most side of the pipe section before him. Unfortunately, the tape was proving itself to be less than adequate for the job. The dark, adhesive strip was not fully waterproof, and the water pressure proved to be surprisingly onerous to contain.
"Damn it all, 'and me a longer strip. I need teh wrap it around this godforsaken thing!"
"There's no more tape, Desmond."
"Whaddya mean there's no more bloody tape?!"
"Would yeh jest look?!" Orville waved the barren cardboard ring that once held several meters of duct tape weeks ago.
Now Desmond had no excuse to just yell at his brother. "Fuckin' 'ell! What else could go wrong?!" He crossed his arms and scowled at a corner. If he had his way, he'd find something to smash to pieces.
"We need a professional, Dez." Orville insisted.
"A professional?" Desmond made an exaggerated thinking posture, pretending to give the suggestion actual consideration. "Great idea! We'll get some bloke teh patch this bloody thing up, and we'll pay them wif all of that money that we don't 'ave!"
"We got the 'mergency fund, don't we?" Orville reminded.
"Yeh, feh 'mergencies! I've been down 'ere long enoff teh know the usual plummeh's fee in this damned city, and I know we ain't got the boodle teh pay the bloody thieves off!"
"We've got teh try, Dez. I'm tired o' dealin' wif mildew and what 'ave ye."
Outside, Jersey realized that the sidewalk was unusually wet, and not because of any illicit substance like blood or urine. Looking inside the brownstone apartment to his left, he could see two diametrically figured demons arguing over something. The sound of water hitting hardwood told the rest of the situation to him.
His instincts prodded him to get involved, as much as he would normally do the opposite. Jersey cautiously stepped into the house, careful to position himself to run out into the street in case he was threatened.
"Is there something wrong, gentlemen?"
The simple question startled the two mammalian sinners. Desmond began to act defensive, not liking the presence of a stranger in his home. "Wot's it ta yew? Ain't ye never 'eard of knockin'?"
"My apologies, I just couldn't help but overhear your plumbing issue."
Orville, who was apprehensive, but far more trusting than his brother, stepped around Desmond to address the dark haired newcomer. "I don't suppose yew could 'elp us wif this blasted pipe 'ere. Been pissin' buckets in the 'ouse feh two blinkin' days."
"Let me get my tools, and I'll be right back, gentlemen." Jersey tried not to leave the premises too eagerly. He he been looking forward to this for weeks. Although he was not necessary in his "work clothes," Jersey knew they were not essential to the job that was available to him.
"Whit the 'ell are yew doin', Orville?!" Desmond hissed. "Yew wanna invite some random ars bloke into our 'umble abode? Feh all we know, that fella's a bloomin sneak thief!"
"We got our valuables 'idden, don't we?" Orville asked quietly with a shrug of his arms.
"That's besides the point, and yew know it. We can't trust 'im."
"Can't we take a chance feh once? If it means fixin' this stupid pipe once and feh awl..."
Desmond groaned as he noticed that the buckets still in place were filling up with water fast. He would be loath to admit that his brother's odd pragmatism had some merit.
"Fine, but if 'e tries teh swindle us, I'll conk 'im on the 'ead." The tallest of the brothers frog stepped towards the unused fireplace and grabbed a fire poker. Desmond awkwardly hid it in his coat, then angled his body to better hide the makeshift weapon.
Outside, Jersey felt no need to travel all the way back to the hotel to grab his tools. With a magic circle in his palm, he promptly summoned his tool box and quickly glanced over its contents to see that it had everything that he needed. Seconds later, he summoned several PVC pipes in anticipation of replacing the leaky plumbing in the apartment. He stepped back inside the apartment to see a stony faced Desmond and an rather skittish Orville.
"Shall I begin?"
The Stoat brothers learned two things that morning. The first was that they could manually turn off their own water supply. It was a rather embarrassing revelation given that they had lived in the brownstone since the end of the 1950s. The second was that a good plumber could end their water related problems in less than half an hour. While the two mentally kicked themselves over their inability to limit the mess in their living room, Jersey had just finished replacing the pipe.
"There's nothing I can do about replacing the sheet rock, but at least you won't be having problems with this pipe." Jersey explained as he put his tools away.
"Well call me bloody impressed." Orville said with a dopey smile. "You sure dew a propah job Mr. Jersey."
Desmond was leaning against a wall, still concealing the fire poker in his possession. The ruthless side of him wanted to bludgeon Jersey anyway, if only in the vain hope that the two brothers would not have to put up any money for the unexpected service that was rendered in their living quarters.
"Sew, jest wot dew yew want for compensation, Mr. Jersey?" Orville asked.
Desmond almost dropped the poker in shot. He sent his brother a thunderous look.
"Let's see..." Jersey murmured as he glanced at the two foot long section of pipe he had just installed. "With the PVC plus installation... I'd say thirty dollars."
"Deal!" Orville hurried off to the upstairs section of the house.
Desmond was despondent at Orville's eagerness to spend what little spending money the two had. "Oi! What the bloody hell are you..." Desmond realized that he had brandished the fire poker in his efforts to stop his brother.
There was an awkward silence in the room. Desmond allowed a sheepish grin on his face. "Wot? Can't a man be entitled to self defense in this bloomin' city? Yew weren't expected here, ye know."
Jersey gave a critical eye towards the lanky demon. If he wanted to say something, the return of Orville interrupted.
The portly man presented three ten dollar bills in his meaty hands. "'Ere ye go, Mr. Jersey, as thanks from us."
"Us?" Desmond asked with a raised eyebrow. 'I didn't consent to this bloody exchange...'
"Much obliged, sir." Jersey reached into a small compartment of his tool box and presented a business card. "In case you ever need my services, just give me a call."
Orville accepted the card with a nod. "Yew've got yehself a loifelong customah." The two briefly shook hands, and Jersey promptly left the apartment.
Desmond was still quite unhappy. He briefly considered knocking his brother upside the head for his actions. "Yew just gave away some o' our 'mergency fund away! Grr... shoulda conked 'im when I 'ad the chance..."
Orville was unperturbed. "I say it was a bloomin' good investment, Dez."
The two brothers glanced at the new, plastic piping above them. Once again, peace and quiet, not to mention dryness, blessed their rough living quarters. What was more pleasant still was the modest cost of Jersey's services.
Propping the fire poker against the wall near the fireplace, Desmond begrudgingly agreed that his portly brother's decision had been a good one. His anger began to subside with a relenting sigh. "I guess it's a nice pipe. Well, we bettah get the bloody watah runnin' again."
"Alright, Dez."
"Now that was satisfying." Jersey said to himself. Now walking with a spring in his step, he began to feel more optimistic about his chances to expand his private business. "It was a small job but a good one. If I'm lucky, I'll get another chance, although that reminds me..."
Getting his Hellphone out of his pocket, he quickly moved to the contact list and made a familiar call. Bringing the device to his ear, the dial rang three times before it was picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Charlotte."
"Oh! Hi, Jersey!" She replied with gusto. "What's up?"
"I was going out for a walk, and I managed to do a quick plumbing job for two brothers down the road from the hotel."
"That's great! What did you do?"
"It was a leaky pipe. Couldn't be repaired, so I took some PVC piping and replaced it. Wasn't too big of a job, and I got a little bit of money for my efforts."
"Awesome! Are you heading back to the hotel now?"
"Actually, I'm gonna keep walking about. I'll let you know if anything changes."
"Well, okay." Charlie remarked. "Just be careful."
"Always. Talk to ya later." Jersey said.
"Okay then. Bye!"
Ending the call, Jersey continued on his way. If nothing else, he could refresh his memories of the areas he passed through the day he arrived in Pentagram City.
Satan Antonio Saloon, 10:02 am
The Satan Antonio Saloon was quiet, but that was due in no small part to the fact that mornings were not ideal hours for drinking. Aside from the occasional dregs that stumbled into the place for several rounds of reckless consumption, it was an uneventful time. Bertrand, the sole owner and bartender of the saloon, was taking the time to take stock of his various drinks of choice.
The badger demon did his damndest to keep his inventory well stocked. Likewise, he took pride in having a business that had some level of class. Practically living at the saloon, he kept the place clean in spite of its outwardly grim appearance. The dim light that characterized the ambience was done on purpose: Bertrand believed it gave it a tasteful amount of character and toughness.
The place had seen its fair share of scraps and disputes. Over the ninety long years it had existed, the saloon had been visited by rough characters. Bikers, common criminals, and genuine outlaws (at least in a past life) all partook of the saloon's goods. Many of these rough consumers also engaged in what most would consider the uncouth practice of drunken brawling. Scars in the wood that made up the seats, tables, floor, and even the entrance doors all told of a past with a combative customer base.
As he was looking at the ale section of his bar, a flicker of dimming light disturbed Bertrand from his work. Glancing up with a squint, he saw that one light bulb was starting to malfunction.
He sighed. "God damn it."
Finding a spare incandescent bulb was no issue. Installing it was another matter entirely. Bertrand's body did not age, but he had always been plagued with back problems: a legacy of his last years as a mortal man. Every time he exerted himself, it was a painful strain on his stocky body. Unfortunately, he knew that it was better to take care of one aging light now, rather than have to deal with multiple bad lights in the future. Spending lots of time stretching to replace multiple light bulbs would shortly leave him in a rough state.
Placing a sign on the bar to indicate that he was busy with other matters, Bertrand moved to a back closet. Entering the main area with a spare bulb in hand, he moved a step ladder in his other hand towards a suitable place to undergo the light change. Just as he braced himself for a slow ascent up the ladder, the batwing doors that greeted guests creaked as a new customer entered.
Bertrand turned and saw a face he did not instantly recognize. Jersey, recalling the fight he had in the Satan Antonio, focused on the badger demon about to climb a small ladder. "Long time no see, old man."
The 'old man' squinted his eyes at the comment, but the baritone voice of the man before him sparked his memory. His lips puckered as if he swallowed a lemon. The last thing he needed at the moment was a brawl on his property. "Damn it all, don't tell me yer lookin' fer trouble."
Jersey rubbed the back of his head, allowing a mildly bashful face. "Sorry. I tried to deescalate the situation. I don't suppose those... fine persons are around to start something, are they?"
Bertrand shook his head, trying to focus back on his errand. "They wouldn't show up now. Too early. If'n yer wantin' a drink, hold yer horses. I gotta replace this damn light bulb."
Slowly, Bertrand lifted a booted paw on the first rung. With his back already beginning to stoop, he tried his best to withhold a groan as the lower vertebrae of his back began to hurt. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his second foot, his spare hand giving a harsh grip on the cold metal of the left side rail.
This difficult and uncomfortable task was not lost on Jersey, who was starting to become a little concerned. "Do you need help, Mr...?"
"Bertrand. Just Bertrand." The badger huffed as he lifted his right leg again. Distracted by the question and the pain, he misplaced his step and gasped fearfully as he fell backwards.
"Woah!" Jersey dropped his tool box and scooped up Bertrand before he could hit the hardwood floor. He then gently set the bar owner onto the floor.
Bertrand felt heat rush to his face. It was bad enough that he could not do a simple task without almost breaking something, but he had to be helped like a small, helpless child. His pride demanded that he lambast Jersey for treating him as if he were helpless. On the other hand, his back pain demanded he take it easy.
"Damn it to hell! That's what I get fer not takin' my damn pain meds." The only way it could get worse was if more customers were around to see his near disaster.
"Bertrand, there's no need to risk hurting yourself. Let me replace the bulb. It just so happens that I have plenty of experience doing things like that." Jersey explained.
It was a blow to Bertrand's sense of self reliance to accept aid from a relative stranger. He had rarely ever been offered legitimate aid by someone who seemed so genuine in their concern. Such people were mostly consummate actors who relied on deception and the trust of naïve demons to further their interests.
'But what could this feller gain from replacin' a lightbulb?' Bertrand reasoned. As much as he had a healthy distrust of those not partaking in his alcoholic wares, he was currently more sick of dealing with back pain. Begrudgingly, he lifted the spare lightbulb still firmly in his grasp towards Jersey. It had thankfully not been damaged during his brief fall.
In the time it took for Bertrand to get himself onto his feet again, the used bulb was being presented to him. The light above him and Jersey was now shining consistently.
"Hmm." Bertrand muttered. "Thanks."
"No problem." Jersey replied with a small grin. "In case you need anything more... strenuous done, you can call me by this number." He presented another business card for his plumbing and electric services.
Bertrand eyed the card with suspicion. "I don't suppose yer gonna demand I pay ya a thousand bucks just fer that little job, do ya?"
Jersey quirked his face in reaction. "No. It's a bulb replacement. I wouldn't even charge five dollars for something as easy as that."
The answer seemed to satisfy the badger demon as he returned to his work station. "Well, I guess you were purdy helpful. I'll... keep the card at least."
"By all means." Jersey said.
"Since we're talkin' business," Bertrand pressed as he leaned over the bar counter, "what'll ya have?"
"Oh, it's too early for me to drink." Jersey replied with a small wave of his hand. "I was just in the neighborhood and figured I'd familiarize myself with the places I passed through months ago."
"That's right," Bertrand said as he rubbed his chin, "you showed up durin' the New Year. Then you made a scene with those Hellraiser characters..."
"With all due respect, I did my best to separate myself from the situation. I tried to leave and be on my way, but they would not have it. I was acting in self defense."
Bertrand gave a brief laugh. "You 'bout knocked all their fuckin' teeth out, sonny."
"... whatever it takes to take down a threat." Jersey replied after a pause.
"Sure. How's about a drink on the house the next time you come around? Least I can do, I guess." Bertrand offered.
"That sounds like a fair exchange." Jersey agreed affably.
"Hmm, good. I guess I'll be in touch," Bertrand glanced down at the card in his offhand, "Mr. Jersey."
"But of course. Have a nice day, sir." Jersey collected his belongings and departed for the street again.
After pocketing the business card, Bertrand settled in, hoping to enjoy the relative peace and quiet before the evening rush. "At least that feller left without making a goddamn mess of this place."
Jersey was on a roll. Twice he had managed to expand the reach of his independent ventures handyman. He felt normal again, a feeling that was resurrected during his brief fishing trip with Niffty before the shark attack which derailed the entire outing.
His musings paused as he heard and felt the buzz of his Hellphone once again. The number was unfamiliar, and he mentally braced himself for a false flag call.
"Jersey's Plumbing and Electrician Services, how may I help you?"
The voice was male, and it sounded oddly courteous for a resident of Pentagram City. "Hello, I'm considering total renovation of the plumbing in an old house me and my roommates are living in. Would you be willing to come by and give me an estimate on a building wide overhaul?"
The question surprised Jersey. The last time he had performed a job of that scale was back in the nineties. Typically, most prospective customers only needed new sinks installed or a few pipes replaced. Outside of constructing an entire house, few people had need of such a large scale, multi day operation.
"That sounds like quite the job you have in mind. It's been a while since I've done a cost estimate on such a widespread scale."
"But you can do it, right?"
"I can." Jersey replied. "Where is your property located?"
"1588 Judas Boulevard. It's an old brownstone apartment." The caller answered.
Jersey took a mental note of the address, and wondering if the place was close by, given the brownstone homes he had already observed. "I'll try to be there before lunch."
"Excellent! I'll be seeing you soon, I suppose."
The call ended, and Jersey quickly checked out the map app on his Hellphone to determine the location of the apartment. It intersected with Longinus Avenue, which was only a block away from Jersey's current location. He would have to travel a fair bit in what he assumed was west to reach Judas Boulevard, much less the apartment. At the very least, it was closer than he might have feared.
"So..." Jersey pointed in the proper direction as he put away his Hellphone. "That-a-way..."
Just as with Cannibal Colony weeks before, Jersey had crossed paths with some unpleasant looking individuals on his way to his latest work call. Likewise, he had to cross a road called Longinus Avenue to get to the proper sidewalk where the apartment would be. Thankfully, the walk had gone uneventfully, with no demons trying their luck with trying to trick or assault him.
Jersey soon found himself walking through the intersection of Longinus and Judas. He knew he was getting close. This was doubly confirmed when he noticed he was strolling beside a series of brownstones, Better yet, their addresses were part of a series of 1500 numbers. It only took half a dozen blocks to find the residency of his most recent business call: 1588 Judas Boulevard.
Much like the Stoat brothers brownstone earlier that day, it was a dirty, somewhat decrepit building. In fact, now that Jersey could closely observe the front of the property, one instinct told him that it was very strange how someone who could afford a large scale plumbing renovation could have a property in such a wretched condition.
Two windows were broken, one of which had a partially collapsed series of blinds. The guardrail leading up to the front door was badly corroded with time. The area also smelled slightly worse, with urine and garbage being especially prominent. It made Jersey cringe to think of even step foot into the property.
"I hope this is one hell of a house flip." He mused warily. Walking up the cracked steps of the house, Jersey knocked on the heavy wooden door with his offhand.
After a moment, the apparent caller opened the door. This demon was an imp, with a bald head and a slim body just one head shorter than Jersey. His horns, colored black with thick, white bands, curled tightly over the sides of his head, akin to a bighorn ram. It was clear from his dirty, wrinkled long sleeve black shirt and matching pants that he was a demon that lived a tough lifestyle. The imp's smile seemed pleasant enough, with uneven, sharp teeth peering between thin, red lips.
"Ah, you must be Jersey! Come in." The imp bid with a stretched arm which pointed down the small hallway that was the first room. Once inside, the imp meticulously closed the door to minimize sound. He then walked in front of Jersey, leaning against a closed door which led to a small closet.
"You wanted an estimate on an entire plumbing job overhaul, correct?" Jersey saw that the interior was hardly better than the front of the apartment. Broken floor boards, used newspapers, and shattered beer bottles littered the floor. Likewise, it looked as if it had not been dusted in months.
"Indeed." The imp confirmed, giving a Cheshire grin that was eerily similar to Alastor's. He took a few steps back, coyly crossing his goat-like legs as he maintained eye contact with the handyman. "May I just say how glad I am to have you here? Company is such a precious commodity in this desolate old place~"
The tone of the imp's words began to put Jersey on edge. Briefly, he thought of taking the conversation outside, in case he needed to retreat. Then, he heard the click of a door locking behind him.
Jersey hastily looked behind him, but saw nothing but the door. The dark chuckle he could hear coming from outside indicated that the imp greeting him had at least one helper in what appeared to be a trap of some kind. His attention was brought back to his front when he heard the sound of a gun being drawn from a holster.
The imp had some kind of modern gun, likely a Glock, or barring that, a convincing bootleg of the brand. Instinctively, Jersey reached out with his senses in case the gun had any unusual properties. Just like the time a random demon attempted to mug him on his first day, the gun was as ordinary as any firearm.
'You'd think in a place with demons of all things, they'd have more extraordinary weapons.' Jersey thought. He asked the obvious. "Did you call me just so you could corner me in this hovel and threaten me?"
"Not quite." The imp's once civil tone melted away to cruel arrogance, much like a cat if it could converse with a mouse it was toying with. "I called you here so I could threaten you and take all of your money. My pals and I need to put food on the table. You know how it is."
"I see." Jersey remarked, his forest green eyes narrowing dangerously. "Why have an honest living when you can be a three bit thief?"
The imp momentarily bristled at the insult. "Honest? Ha! Don't make me laugh. There's nothing honest down here, dumbass. It's a dog eat dog world, and you survive by any means necessary. Besides, there's not much else for imps like us anyways. Nothing except being sniveling, brown nosing slaves to a bunch of royal shitheads that don't give a fuck about us."
The bitterness in the imp's voice sparked an idea in Jersey. "Are you tired of just having to do this kind of shit to other people? I know I'm hardly rich, but I've managed to earn cold hard cash by doing decent, legitimate work."
The imp let his gun lower slightly. "Huh?"
"I am a plumber and electrician, among other things. Don't you want a decent house to live in? Don't you want pride in being able to make a place of your own with your bare hands? Let me teach you what I know. You could work yourself out of being some common criminal: you and the friends you work with." Jersey lent a free hand towards the imp, who stared at the limb with a slightly confused face.
For a moment, Jersey thought the nameless red demon was legitimately considering the offer. The sneer of disgust that soon crossed the gun toting hoodlum's face shattered that hope.
"You think I'm gonna waste my time unclogging toilets and shit? Fuck you and your pansy ass patronizing." The imp pointed the handgun right between Jersey's eyes.
Jersey clenched his jaw. Once again, diplomacy failed, and he had to prepare himself to fight in enemy territory. There was one last tactic he could use: intimidation.
"I just have one question, Mr.?"
"I'm not telling you shit, motherfucker."
Jersey almost snorted at the rude reply. "Do you really think you can take me on alone? I earned my money fair and square, and I won't give it up easily."
The imp laughed again. "You don't understand the situation that you're in, friend. I have the gun, and I don't see any equalizer on your part."
"I understand that if you fire that gun, and I don't go down, I'll break every bone in your body." Jersey replied coldly. "Then I'll just bust down the door and go on my merry way."
The casual threat surprised the gun toting imp. Then he sneered at the tough guy act. "Is that so?" Bringing two clawed fingers to his lips, he let out a shrill whistle.
Out of nowhere, six other imps rushed into the corridor. Four were males, and two were females. All of them had partially shredded clothes and scars from previous battles. Each of the newcomers also had melee weapons in hand, including brick bats, crowbars, and switch blade knifes. Most looked eager to spill blood, except for the smallest imp, a male with simple, straight horns and a baseball bat in his hands. He looked anxious, as if he did not want to be there.
Jersey was not totally surrounded, but he was stuck between a locked door and more than half a dozen demons that were committed to harming him. On the bright side, he was still at least a head taller. Plus, they had no idea who they were facing.
"So, you gonna give up the money, or do we have to paint this place in a coat of your blood?" The leader imp asked with a smirk.
His eyes carefully judging the smaller demons before him, Jersey finally fixed his eyes back on the tall imp who fancied himself a skilled gun hand. "Hold this." With a casual heft, the tool box was thrown at the slender gang leader.
"What the- oof!" The gun was knocked out of the imp's hand as he tried to catch the tool box. All hell broke loose after that.
The nearest imp, a female, aimed her knife right at Jersey's stomach. Jersey grabbed her hand and swung hard, slamming her into a wall. The frail state of the wood and sheetrock crumbled, and the horned woman was left dazed and somewhat bloodied in a jumble of shattered planks and perforated wallpaper.
Going on the attack, Jersey push kicked the male imp that was furthest to his right. The imp dropped the crowbar in his hand and tumbled into the kitchen. Another imp cursed at him, swinging his brick bat at Jersey's head. His intended victim grabbed the weapon behind its cumbersome head, and countered with an overhead punch. The red demon slumped to the ground, completely unconscious.
"Bastard!" The second female slashed with her own knife, and Jersey jumped back out of range. He lunged forward with a retaliatory kick, which forced the imp to stumble back, narrowly avoiding the heel of her taller foe.
Down on the floor, the leading imp scrabbled to retrieve his gun. It was somewhat difficult given that he was suffering from bruised ribs. He noticed the struggle of his female comrade and the hesitation of the remaining two males in his party. "Attack that cocksucker all at once you fucking cowards!"
The order appeared to snap the larger of the two masculine imps out of their fearful stupor. He joined the female imp as she began a new offensive; they charged towards Jersey at the same time. As they attempted to stab and bludgeon their target respectively, Jersey stepped forward, grabbing their wrists and lifting them into the air. Unable to strike with their armaments, the imps groaned as their captor began squeezing with titanic force. A chorus of bone snaps was followed by screams of pain, and Jersey promptly slammed the imps against each other.
As the demons were dropped in his grasp, Jersey staggered back as a gunshot echoed through the house. The leading imp grimaced, too angry with how much effort it took to take down the stubborn and surprisingly formidable man before him. At the very least, he knew that he had badly wounded his quarry; he knew that his mark was true.
At the moment, Jersey was leaning against a decaying wall, his hand placed at his left temple. He growled, an inhuman sound that should have indicated just how dangerous he was. His palm, once pressed against his head as if to stem bleeding, then curled its fingers, gripping something that was apparently stuck to his head.
Straightening his posture, Jersey plucked a deformed 40 S cartridge round, leaving a small, angry wound just an inch up and to the left of his left eye. Then, in a brief flash of flame and smoke, the wound healed, leaving a blemish free section of skin.
The sight flabbergasted the imp with the gun in hand. As for the smallest imp that was a part of the gang, he trembled at the sight. The bullets fired from the gun were not blessed, but they could incapacitate most sinners when they hit the right spot. No common demon could so easily withstand such an accurate blow to the face.
Jersey made a show of dropping the bullet to the ground. The mangled projectile tumbled with a clatter as Jersey stared at the imp who fired the offending bullet, his eyes the color of an inferno. With an audible pop, his fists clenched tightly.
The gun toting imp, still lying on the ground, understood the sudden futility of his weapon of choice. "Uh, h-hey now." He began to scoot away from Jersey as the former began to stalk towards him. "I uh, understand that you aren't some weak piece of fresh meat, so uh, I apologize for... umm..."
Jersey said nothing, his gaze burrowing through the entire being of the imp who had so maliciously entrapped him. He did not commit himself to killing his cowering transgressor, but he was not in a pacifist mood. The desire to inflict a healthy amount of terror in his would-be robber was now front and center.
Jersey wanted to give a small, painful lesson into what happens when one betrays the trust of the wrong man.
"Look, I just wanted some money!" The imp screamed, becoming frantic. He pointed in Jersey's direction, though he was looking past the man currently striding his way. "You're free to go! The manual lock is on your side of the door! I promise I'll leave you be. Please!"
Realizing the futility of his bargaining, the imp tried to crawl on his hands and knees to safety, but his own tail betrayed him. Jersey grabbed the vulnerable limb and used it to violently jerk the imp right into his grasp. When the imp tried to maneuver his firearm to shoot Jersey in the eye, the weapon was easily slapped out of his grip. Then, Jersey grasped the demon by his skinny neck, quickly choking the helpless criminal.
"Guck! Please!" The imp wheezed. "What are you-"
"I'm gonna do some demolition of this wall here..."
With an angry yell, Jersey smashed the imp into the wall to his left. Punched through rotten boards, insulation, and sheetrock, the imp's body slackened, with black blood dripping out of lacerations on his head and arms. His heart was still beating, but the decrepit apartment was now silent. Dust filled the air, akin to the fog of war.
The clatter of a baseball bat drew Jersey's attention. He looked to his right to see an imp who barely reached the height of his waist. His horns, sprouting straight into the air, had thick white bands, indicating his sex as male, but they were pitifully small, no longer than three inches. Dressed in a t shirt and shorts, he appeared to be the youngest of the gang that had attacked him.
The little imp's eyes were wide in terror as his cloven feet slipped on some old newspapers lying on the ground. He crawled away until he was pinned between a wall and a small table at the far side of the hallway.
Jersey said nothing, and strode slowly towards the imp, who shielded himself with his arms in preparation of suffering the same fate as his compatriots.
"Hey."
The imp hesitantly allowed his eyes to open. Jersey had crouched down just two feet away, his face a mask of cold seriousness. His eyes still looked the color of hot flames.
"You want my advice? Give this shit up, or you'll cross someone that lacks my capacity for mercy." Jersey jerked a thumb back to the scene of unconscious bodies behind him. "I could have easily murdered them all, and hardly anyone would so much as blink at this."
The imp allowed himself to breath, trying to calm himself down. Part of him was confused that Jersey was bothering to speak to him, given his association.
"It's up to you if you wanna die as some two bit hood or live as someone remotely competent." Jersey stood up and began to walk towards the front door, collecting his tool box along the way. "I hope you've learned something valuable from all of this."
The weight of the entire sequence of events finally came tumbling down onto the terrified hell-born demon. Curling up, the young imp sobbed with relief, a whirl of emotions in his mind as the door was unlocked, opened, and closed. It would be over an hour before any of his fellow gang members regained consciousness.
"Hey Charlotte."
"Hi! How goes the walk?"
"I'm done. I'll probably be back in about half an hour."
"...are you okay? You don't sound as chipper as you did when you called earlier."
"I'm okay. I'm just disappointed."
"With what?"
"With people..."
"Do we need to talk about it?"
"Not right now. I'll tell you on Thursday. That's my next appointment, right?"
"Yeah... okay. As long as you're honest with me."
"I'll be back at the hotel in half an hour, like I said."
"Okay then. Be careful heading back. Bye."
"Bye."
Jersey brushed some stray particles off of his clothing. He cared not for showing evidence of the fighting he did just a minute ago. Back on Judas Boulevard, he was carefully retracing his steps back to the Hazbin Hotel. Just before he reached a crosswalk that would take him to Longinus Avenue, he looked back at the shabby apartment where he had just left.
"Pitiful." He remarked. The sight of such desperate violence and criminality reminded him of a brief, but dark year of his life.
'Don't dwell on it. That's behind me.' Jersey thought. 'I have more pressing things to think about.'
Jersey watched both ways for traffic, and continued his return to the hotel. He would probably need a drink from Husk after this.