Between a Rock and a Hard Place

There he was with the most beautiful lady his eyes had ever laid on. Imagine his luck that she didn't mind dancing with someone like him.

Her plump vermillion lips revealed pristine white teeth as she smiled, just for him.

No, she didn't mind at all.

Their dance was to "Little White Lies" by Fred Waring's Pennsylvanians. How he had missed this. He twirled her about then brought her close to earn a blush. And her laugh, such music to his ears!

A few songs later, a slow jazz instrumental came on, giving the pair much needed relief. 'I'm going to need new shoes after this,' she breathed.

He rested his hands on her hips. The spotlight shone on them in the dark room, where no other being could be found. He stared into her eyes; one blue and one brown. She never did tell him how that happened.

'You're strangely quiet.' Her small hand cupped his cheek.

He leaned into her tender touch. 'Oh dear, you make a fool of me each time.'

She looked confused. 'What do you mean?'

'It had been decades since I saw you, darling. How I wanted to hate you. How I wanted to rip your heart out and enjoy it fresh off the grill.' He then dropped the edge from his smile, looking ever so warm. 'I spend one day with you, and look at the pile of mush you've made me!'

She flipped her raven locks over her pale shoulder. 'Is that supposed to make me feel special?'

'You are special, darling.'

The corner of her mouth hung lower than the other. No, this expression will not do.

He lifted her chin with a finger and smiled down at her. As she was about to turn away, he pressed his lips down on hers. She yelped in surprise for but a brief moment before giving in and melting into his big arms. Her soft lips tasted of cherries, just like he imagined.

He pulled away and was met with a love-drunk smile. He felt her giggle resonate through his chest. 'There she is,' he praised.

She slapped his chest lightly, her cheeks redder than before. 'You're horrible, Mr Durand!'

As though a switch flipped, the lights went out and the music stopped. Everything before his eyes was as dark as the deep sea.

'Wow, you're really sitting this one out?' The shrill voice of Vaggie scratched his ear drums. His ears perked up and his eyes flashed open. Even though it was rude of her to touch his radio, he smiled. Alastor rested his hands on his lap.

'Good day to you too, Vaggie!'

'You can't just tell us that some Greek demons may be trying to get to Charlie, and then just-' she waved her hands frantically. '-just sit there!'

'Ah, wrong again! I have returned from my excursion and informed Charlie of what I found.' He sniggered. 'Or to be more accurate, what I haven't found.'

'So like, you went looking for the leads in that file she gave you?' Vaggie almost sounded impressed.

'Ha! No.' He got up from his plush chair and went over to her. 'You see, I went to see if her weasel pal had found anything from our letters.' He moved his hand through the air in a semi-circle path. 'His home was set ablaze. Nothing remained.'

'And who the fuck did that?'

He put his hands behind his back and shrugged. 'You must have me mistaken for the missing shamus.' He passed her and went into the main lobby. Vaggie had to do a half-jog to keep up. 'I also went to see Stolas, a friend of hers too, and the fellow was of no use as well.' He then added in a lower, more bitter voice. 'Really cares for her, that owl.'

'What?'

He spun on his heel and Vaggie slammed into him. 'What I'm saying is: I have expended myself to the best of my ability. Due to my… unfortunate circumstances, I could only send out a few goons to keep an eye and ear out.' He rubbed his chin. 'I think I have done my part; don't you say?'

Vaggie shook her head; conveying annoyance. 'Why in all the nine circles did you let her go follow some lead? You were with her!'

He laughed. 'She had her duty and I had mine. Not to worry, she is capable.'

'How would you know? You only met her three days ago.'

'Ha! Amelia and I go quite a ways back.' He looked down at her with half-lidded eyes. 'I suppose Charlie forgot to mention that as well,' he teased.

A single look at Vaggie and one would hear the whistling of a boiling kettle.

A defeated groan caught their attention. Charlie sat on the low sofa with her head in her hands.

'Charlie! I didn't see you there, my dear.'

Vaggie shot a glare at him before going over to the distressed blonde. 'Don't get mad at me, but you shouldn't be out here.'

'We're not sure if they even want me.' Her voice barely audible.

'Well, I mean, Lucy's still your dad. And I get you don't wanna tell him anything but he can protect you.'

'No way.' Charlie snapped. 'Going to him is like admitting I'm a failure and can't do shit on my own.'

'But-'

The doors of the hotel burst open and in came Angel Dust adorned with a lavish white fur coat. His high-heeled boots clicked on the polished floor as he stepped in. He took off his sunglasses and looked over each of them with disinterest.

'What?' Vaggie barked.

'Nothin'.' He looked at his nails. 'Just wonderin' how you bitches can function without me. Really makes a girl think.'

'All you do is strip and suck dick, like we really need that.'

Charlie laid a gentle hand on Vaggie's shoulder. She threw a stern look at Angel. 'What do you want?'

Angel cackled. 'A million bucks and a suga' daddy who won't beat my ass. But-' From his fur coat he removed a small brown paper bag. '-this is probably for ya.'

Charlie raised a brow. 'You brought me… lunch?'

He rolled his eyes and sashayed towards the reception desk, the other three watched as he passed. He emptied the contents onto the table. 'Voila! A poker chip.' He grabbed said item. 'and a bullet that burned my fingas when I touched it.' He moved the silvery bullet with the poker chip away from the edge.

'Good man! Where did you find these?'

Angel grinned at the Radio Demon. 'In my locka' at the club. Found it after my shift, kinda didn't get it at first but I remembered ya gal went missing. So, I put them two's togetha'.'

Charlie took the poker chip and examined it. 'Casablanca?'

'Yeah, had its grand opening a few weeks ago. The bullet and the chip, whaddya think?'

'Maybe she left it so we can find her?'

Alastor hummed in agreement. His eyes fell on Angel. 'If you do not mind my arachnid fellow, I have a plan and your aid will be most needed.'

Angel smirked. 'Let's hear it, big guy.'

...

Although she was awake and aware of her surroundings, she flinched at the sound of the baton hitting the bars.

'Oops, did I scare you?' The hydra demon teased. Funnily enough, Amelia noticed that he prolonged every "s" in his sentences.

From her place on the floor, dishevelled Amelia kept her eyes at a blank point in front of her. 'Hardly.' Her bruised face and cut lip were the evidence of the torture session of the day before. Her ripped fingernails were beginning to grow in again and the burns on her arms and legs had faded into dark spots. Demons generally heal well, which is both good and bad depending on the context. One could guess what Amelia would say as she awaited the next session.

One of the hydra's heads squeezed through the bars to get a closer look at her. It whistled in astonishment. 'Oh wow-wee, Brontes really did a number on ya.'

Amelia didn't reply and maintained her cold stare.

The hydra was not amused.

A bucket of water thrown on Amelia, to which she closed her eyes disappointedly. Her raven curls looked like spilled ink that clung to her bruised face. She spat out the water in her mouth and ignored the mocking words of the hydra.

The hydra was interrupted by the arrival of a dryad. Though her face and body were carved from wood, her lips moved like those of flesh. 'Are you quite done?' In a strange way, the nymph's clipped accent was refreshing to Amelia.

All five heads of the hydra stared pointedly at the new-comer. 'Maybe, why?' The centre head said.

'Calypso sent me to fetch her.'

'And?'

'I don't question my superiors. You shouldn't either.' In a single fluid movement, the dryad picked the keys off the hydra's belt and unlocked the bar doors. She walked over to Amelia and raised a pair of metal cuffs. 'Don't try anything stupid.'

If her face didn't feel like it would fall off at the slightest of movements, Amelia would have sneered at her. 'Already here, aren't I?'

The tail of the hydra looped around her arm and yanked her up. The sudden force of the tug almost popped the humeral head out of its socket. Her cheek hit the wall and her hands were simultaneously cuffed behind her back. Amelia assumed the role of a rag doll as the hydra yanked her back and tied a black sack over her head. She barely had time to distribute the weight on her feet before she was pushed. If her hands were free, Amelia wouldn't have hit the concrete floor as strongly as she did.

The dryad groaned. She asked the hydra a question to which he responded with crude laughter.

Amelia could not hear them from the ringing in her ears. She rolled over and got on to her knees. She paused her laboured breathing to stand up, easing her weight on one leg at a time. The black sack concealed her lips that peeled back to give way to clenched teeth.

Someone took her by the shoulder and guided her out of her cell. From this point, the dryad ordered her to follow instructions. The nymph made a comment about Amelia's unsavoury soaked state but the private eye said nothing in return. Bagged and cuffed, Amelia followed the vocal cues of the nymph like a well-trained sea lion in a circus.

After a while, the scent of the air changed and Amelia could tell she was no longer in the basement. Minutes later she was told to wait and a knock was heard. A click told Amelia that a door opened. More lame conversation, then a clawed hand grabbed Amelia by the arm and pulled her into the room. It became apparent that the time of vocal cues had ended.

It smelled like an office. The chair she was tossed into felt like it belonged in an office. When the sack was yanked off her head, the room looked like, believe it or not, an office. The black and grey tones of the modern furniture gave off a more sophisticated air.

Amelia blinked away the cotton over eyes. A hulking minotaur huffed at her. The private eye assumed he was the one who grabbed earlier as she noticed a peculiarity about his hands; claws instead of hooves. Her eyes went to the right and registered the stern blonde nymph. Her skin was a deep green and her eyes a sharp bright blue. A water nymph?

She waved away the minotaur and he left without another word.

Amelia almost didn't notice the slip of a wood nymph by the door, who was transfixed by the private eye.

The water nymph called the small demoness. She jerked in surprise, received her orders and quickly left the room after the minotaur.

'Looks better than your jail cell, doesn't it?'

Amelia dragged her gaze from the door to the water nymph. Looking at the crisp grey suit she wore and drawing parallels to her tattered outwear, Amelia couldn't remember the last time she was outdressed.

'You must be Calypso.'

The demoness' full lips morphed into a proud smirk. 'My brother has been telling me… things. I truly worry for you, Amelia.'

The private eye laid back against the chair. 'Am I supposed to entertain your delusions?'

The smirk dropped. 'Do tell me detective, what are my "delusions"?'

Amelia sighed. 'You're going to offer me a deal, I am going to say no. Then you're going to pull some notes Don gave you to try and convince me, and then I'll say no again. Your delusions lie in which you think there will be a series of events that go any other way.'

Her perfect face frowned. 'Have us figured out, do you?' She shook her head. 'You've lost, can't you see that?'

Amelia's lip curled. 'I am not telling you anything. You might as well throw me back on Brontes' chair and let him have another go.'

'Don't pretend you don't have fears.'

'Of course I have fears. I check under my bed every night for the boogey man and avoid looking other demons in the eye.'

'Very funny.'

'At least someone sees it that way.'

Calypso smiled. 'I doubt Alastor would appreciate your loyalty.' She cocked her head to the side. 'A little birdie told me you're the one who killed him.'

'Don is anything but a "little birdie" but I understand that's how sayings go.'

She tsked at her. 'You aren't getting me, Alastor won't be as hospitable as us if he finds you.' Calypso's smile grew at the increase of paleness in Amelia's face. 'This morning, Alastor was spotted at Casablanca. Has desperation made you a little sloppy?'

Amelia let out a breathy chuckle. 'No, Calypso-' she shook her head. '-you are the ones running out of time, not me.'

Calypso's shrill laugh cut through the office space. 'Did Brontes hit you too hard on the head?'

Amelia scowled. 'I've said it before: you are wasting your time trying to get the other half. The source will only ever serve Alastor. You can turn back now and avoid the wrath of both Lucifer and Alastor.'

'After what that archangel did to us, our families had to live like the peasants and degenerates of society. Prostitution or entering fighting rings, that's all we had to survive.' The bitterness in her voice made coffee look sweet in comparison. 'And we are to turn back now, after everything? If we get the whole source, we could learn to use it. Just like Alastor.'

'As much as I want to be sympathetic to your cause-' Amelia rolled her shoulders which went stiff from the cuffs. '-you have unrealistic expectations.'

Calypso shook her head disappointedly. 'What did I expect from an intelligencer that perished for her land? A patriot even in Hell.'

Amelia's lips flattened into a thin line. 'Spewing out my living history isn't going to win me over. No matter how flattering I think it is. So, decide what you want to do with me. I can hear Brontes' mouth breathing outside the door and this charade is getting quite tiresome.'

A wrinkle formed between Calypso's fine brows. 'Come in, brother.'

The cyclops entered the room and focused a deathly glare on her. Before another word could be spoken, Brontes stomped over to Amelia and lifted her by the fabric of her shirt. His meaty grip bunched up the material. 'You tipped him off, didn't you?' His putrid breath of garlic and rotten eggs had Amelia believing her eyebrows would burn off.

'What are you talking about?' Calypso asked in panic. 'Fucking hell, put her down.'

Brontes refused to listen. 'Come on, put that pretty mouth to good use.'

Amelia wrinkled her nose at him. 'You should be questioning Vox, not me.'

The cyclops pulled back a fist that landed full-force against her jaw. Calypso shouted at him to stop. Amelia's head fell back and her eyes rolled back into her skull. She wasn't looking at a night sky yet there were stars in her vision.

His sister grabbed his free arm. 'She's right!' Calypso yelled. 'You told me you were going to talk to him.'

The cyclops dropped Amelia. She hit her back against the backrest, then fell sideways and hit her flank. Amelia sat awkwardly with her upper body almost hunched over the armrest. As much as she wanted to adjust herself, her muscles were paralysed with pain and defeat. All her residual energy went into the conscious effort to breathe.

'Yeah, I did,' he spat. Brontes turned to his sister. 'But the guy's missing.'

...

The narrow hallway inadvertently forced the two to walk side-by-side. The Radio Demon did not enjoy others entering his personal space but these were strange times. The clinical white halls gave off a chill almost uncharacteristic of Hell.

'I love it when ya get all hot and bothered,' Angel purred. 'The way you told Val ya were gonna eat his guts.' He let out a short laugh.

Alastor hummed. 'A good fellow, he is. So very glad that we were able to catch up, don't you agree?'

'Yeah, Val really missed ya.' The two stopped at a door that had "exit" written above it. 'Ya owe me big for this, fella.'

Alastor grinned while facing the door. He looked at Angel from the corner of his eyes. 'I'm sure we can figure something out, my dear.'

The deer demon pushed the door open, his eyes widened at the massive space of the empty indoor car park. There were a few flickering light bulbs to illuminate the dank and humid space. Few decrepit old dusty cars were parked in some of the spots. Though, he fixated on the restrained demon overlord in the centre of it all. Angel walked past him and greeted the group of demons surrounding Vox.

'Whaddup bitches!' His voice echoed.

The group of five greeted Angel in return with their own crude language.

Alastor could no longer hear them. However, the TV demon had every bit of his attention.

'Splendid work! I couldn't have done it better myself.'

The blonde demon with ripped stockings looked Alastor up and down. 'Look at you being all cute. What gives?'

'Ha! It's a beautiful day, don't you say?' His head turned to the glaring Vox. 'Run along now, your services will no longer be required.'

Before Cherri Bomb; the blonde could say anything, Angel shook his head at her and signalled towards the exit. She didn't have to understand why he looked so solemn but she knew him long enough to know how rare that expression was.

The demons left through the exit, slamming the door shut behind them. The sound echoed throughout the space. The silence was maintained for a few seconds as the overlords stared at one another.

'Not strong enough to get me yourself, eh?' Vox mocked.

Alastor laughed so loudly that his shoulders shook. 'I was preoccupied with more urgent matters, good man!' He stepped forward so that he was standing opposite the bound overlord. 'Besides, I knew lesser demons could do the job just fine.'

'Gloat all you want Alastor, you won't be around for much longer. I have an inkling as to why you've taken me.'

Alastor's smile widened, revealing more of his razor-sharp teeth. 'How right you are-'

'You're going to kill me anyway. Let me go and they'll kill me for talking.'

'Hmm… an awkward situation, you're right.' In less than a heartbeat, his claws wrapped around Vox's throat and squeezed mercilessly. Vox sputtered and gasped, and strained against the rope threaded with silver that bound him. Alastor's voice was distorted as he cackled manically. 'I'll make you wish you were dead, how about that?!'

'Fuck you,' Vox gasped.

The manic laughter filled the empty space. 'What a treat!' Alastor said with an increasingly warped voice. Once Vox's screen began to glitch, Alastor released his grip. 'For a demon without blood, you have such a need for good circulation,' he teased.

Vox wheezed and threw in curses wherever he could.

Alastor cocked his head to the side. 'All I want is what's mine, good man.'

'You'll never know where the idol half is.' Vox let out a short, demeaning laugh.

Alastor rubbed his chin. 'Ah yes, I'm looking for that too.'

'What in the blazes did you think-' Vox screamed in agony as a cleaver cut through the joint of the first phalanx on his forefinger. Deep blue ichor dripped down the armrest of the wooden chair.

'Let's start simple, hmm?' Alastor tugged the cleaver free from the wood. He picked up the severed phalanx and flicked it away like a dead fly. 'The sleuth and the artefact, where are they?'

Vox shook his head. 'I don't-' The cleaver came down on his middle finger.

Alastor tsked at Vox, though the demon's blood-curdling screams drowned him out. 'Don't lie to me, my sweet. Care to try again?'

Vox sputtered out a string of meaningless words. He tugged at his bonds with an even greater force than before. The silver thread cut deep into his suit and made his demon skin bleed.

Alastor cackled as he twirled the cleaver in his hand. 'Don't worry, good man! They'll grow back.' He let out another laugh, this time short. 'If you survive, that is.' The Radio demon stepped out of Vox's view.

'W-what-what ar-are you d-doing?!' Vox managed to shout.

What Vox couldn't see was Alastor's claws dancing over the array of wires that were visible between the collar of his suit and the bottom of the tv screen. With his free hand, he pushed the TV demon's head down to see where the wires headed. His grin widened at Vox's struggles. Alastor decided to grab the yellow wire and twist and bend at where it connected into Vox's head. The screams were a positive affirmation for the demon with weak technological knowledge.

In a morbidly comical way, his screams varied in a continuous loop from high-pitch to low-pitch, masculine to feminine, adult to baby-like. Alastor may not have realised it but he was tempering with Vox's voice modulator, and the vigorous handling was causing extreme changes in an unadapted voicebox. The sadist had no reason to care about the details, all he wanted was the screams.

Soon he grew bored and began giving the same treatment to the other wires.

Vox's body went through an array of reactions; tremendous vibrations which shook his whole body, random shows taking the place of his features on screen, and his limbs contorting unnaturally within their bonds.

'S-stop!'

For a brief moment, Alastor did just that. He looked up from his ichor-coated handiwork. 'Oh? Is it worthwhile?'

Vox took heavy breaths and had little time to respond before Alastor bent a wire again. Vox screamed in agony. 'Yes-yes-yes-yes! Satan almighty fucking stop!'

Alastor yanked his head back sharply and stared down the beaten overlord. 'So, the shamus and the artefact?'

Vox's digital lip quivered and his eyes glitched across the screen. 'F-four-fourth c-circle-circle.'

The Radio demon lowered his face until it was uncomfortably close to Vox's. 'Fourth circle is a big place, good man. Be specific,' he said in an unnervingly calm voice.

'You need to-to promise n-not to kill m-me.'

Alastor pulled back and laughed merrily. The tip of the cleaver lightly touched the tv screen. His digital features flinched. 'Do you think you hold any power here?!' Alastor said manically. He added pressure behind the cleaver. 'Now, where?'

Vox kept his silence for two seconds too long. Alastor gripped him by the ichor-soaked wires then slowly dragged the cleaver tip over Vox's face. Naturally the demon struggled but the jerked movements only did harm to the machinery Alastor held him by.

Soon, Vox yielded again with pathetic whimpers and begging. In a weak voice, he said the location.

Alastor tapped the screen with the cleaver. 'Don't think I heard that, care to speak up?' He teased.

'On t-the west side, in the suburbs.' A spasm shook his body. 'They call it the Barraza house.'

Alastor released his head and stepped away. Vox let out a surprised gasp.

'I'm curious, good man, why work with them?' He looked over his shoulder at the tortured demon.

'Ah,' he chuckled through his broken modulator. His voice no longer could hold a tone. 'Reforms and new measures that would favour me. I've nothing against Lucy, mind you.' He then went on to explain why he sent the letter to Alastor. He laughed at the irony of the situation. 'I should've kept broadcasting their fights and going on with life, eh? Too late for that now.'

Alastor laughed too. 'You were never bright, were you?' He noticed an object of interest in the corner of a parking space. 'Say, you never told me why you sent Amelia a letter.'

Vox stiffened. 'How do you know about that?'

Alastor had walked over to where water dripped from a cracked pipe in the ceiling. The bucket once would catch the water drops but at its current maximum capacity, water spilled over the edge with every single drop. 'Why, she told me!'

'The bull didn't say anything about that.' Desperation showed in Vox's voice.

Alastor put a hand to his chest. 'Ah, she did say to keep it our little secret. Such a sweet thing, isn't she?'

'How the hell can you say that?! She killed you,' Vox gasped.

He threw his head back and laughed. 'Perhaps I should thank you, your letter was the reason we met again.' His claws wrapped around the handle of the bucket and lifted it up. 'I pined for her long ago. Told mother I'd marry her someday, ha! A smitten schoolboy, I was.' He started to walk back to Vox.

'Why are you-'

'I didn't like seeing her at first, I'll admit, but her sweet voice alone was enough to remind me that I was once a man.' He dropped the bucket next to the chair, which landed with a loud thud. 'Now, the dame I want is missing. Probably being roughed up by some good-for-nothings. Should I be all chipper?' Now he stood opposite Vox, a demented expression on his face.

'You're standing there and talking when you could be going to the fourth circle and getting the bastards who got you in this mess in the first place!' Vox's words were said with great speed.

Alastor put his hands behind his back and shrugged, looking coy. 'Oh true, don't you worry, they will get theirs for stealing from me. However-' The cleaver in his hand morphed into a flathead screwdriver. '-you are first in line.'

Before Vox could respond, Alastor stabbed through the glass screen. This shattered the glass around the entry hole. Vox shouted, yelled, and begged in the time it took Alastor to pull back the screwdriver and stab another corner of the screen.

The shrill screams started to annoy Alastor and he reached behind and yanked out the yellow cable. The carpark went deadly silent for a short moment before it was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering.

It required five stabs before the screen lost all functionality. Blue ichor dripped down to the elbows of the Radio demon's red suit. He stepped by the squirming body and kicked the chair so that Vox would fall face-first into the cold concrete.

Alastor's grin stretched ear-to-ear as bent over to shove the head of the screwdriver into the TV display seams and pop off the back. This exposed the motherboard.

In a way, Vox knew what was going to come next. His body fought with even more vigour and determination; he was fighting for his life.

Alastor stepped on his neck to keep him still. He lifted the bucket and grinned down at his foe. 'Au revoir!' He tipped the bucket and spilled the water onto the motherboard. The damaged hardware released liberal volumes of smoke. Vox's body went through a series of spasms for a good few seconds before he went limp.

Even after his death, Alastor continued to empty the bucket and made sure that not even a single drop was left. When that was done, Alastor removed his foot from Vox's neck and gently put down the bucket. The screwdriver morphed back into his stand microphone and it fell easy into his hands. He smiled down at his handiwork; the brutalised corpse of Vox.

Whistling a cheery tune, Alastor sauntered out of the carpark with a new destination in mind.

...

A/N:

There have been major life changes so I apologise for taking so long to update!
It may be a while before the next chapter is uploaded but I will do my best to see this story through ^.^
Thank you for reading and if you feel like it; leave a review on what you thought. I truly appreciate it.