Chapter 12

Crunch

Slavering jaws and yellow teeth tore into a roasted shank, grease dripping down their chin. The flicker of a cooking fire cast shadows on the cave wall. Little other light penetrated its depths.

In the distance, the dripping of water from stalactites echoed through the channels and corridors.

It couldn't drown out the whimpering in the corner.

"More, ma?", a squeaky voice asked.

A bone was thrown towards the voice, clacking against the wall. A group of Imps, shivering and huddling together, yelped with fear.

"Ney.", answered a brusk female voice. "Ye cannae have any more. Yer Faither aye gits th' choice pieces."

"Fookin' aye!", a loud, brusk male voice answered from the cave's mouth. "Ye want more food? Goin' git your ain!"

The source of the voice flicked a cigarette lighter until the flame caught, and used it to light the lantern hanging nearby. It filled the squalid, bone-strewn cave with light.

Inside the cave was a family of Sinners. A rather large family of sinners, all of them ratty canines and wall-eyed rats. Their clothing (when they had any) was stained dark with blood and fluids. Some of them hugged the walls to escape the sudden intrusion of light, screeching at the brightness. Others tried to hide their eyes with their hands.

A tall, raggedy female Sinner stood up, giving a wide and stained-tooth smile. "Mah love! Din ye fin them?"

"Ney.", the brusk male Sinner answered, wiping his hands on a bloody kilt. "Been traipsin' about all ower bloody Hades an' havenae found a goddamn thing…"

He looked over at the pitiful pile of Imps, chained up and wide-eyed as they sat near the bones of their former kin. A pool of black blood from their recently dispatched kind crept ever closer to them.

"Have ye thought about askin' that Mr. Hippo fella?", a throaty male voice asked. Lumbering out from near the cooking fire was a fat, lumpy looking Sinner who appeared more fat than humanoid, practically rolling on his lard like a caterpillar.

"Ney,", answered the tall male. " 'At was a one time job. Th' less I hae to see him, th' better."

The matronly female Sinner stood up, her rags just barely clinging to her bony frame. "We cannae just leave 'em to rot, Sawney love. They're mah grandchildren!"

The kilted Sinner grabbed the female by the throat and slammed her against the wall. "Ye don't think I care? Ye think I be marchin' like a fookin' King's man through this inferno for me own health?!"

"Aye, this is why we should hae moved to Cannibal Colony when we had a chance", the lumbering Sinner said. "At least we'd get some decent clothin'"

The Sinner called Sawney shot an angry look. "Ye' smart mouthin' me, lad?"

"...Ney, Pa.", the Sinner responded.

"I hope not. It's yer flesh n' blood I be huntin' for. I would nae have to do this if ye weren't fattenin' yer gut in here."

"Now, Pa…", a squeaky female voice answered. Another female Sinner, more rat-like than the others and with no clothing, came forward to try and calm Sawney down. "He's yer flesh n' blood as well."

"Aye, and I suppose it's yer fancy genes that made Lenny speak like a fookin' Speak N' Spell?"

She tightened her jaw. "Well, thanks fer sendin' yer best n' brightest to start the party, Pa…"

The lumbering sinner walked/crawled forth. "Don't antagonize 'em. It'll just make 'em worse…"

"And it must be yer genes that made Ella fook off and leave.", Sawney grunted back.

He spat on the floor and released the matronly Sinner, letting her slide down silently to the floor. He walked over to the cowering Imps and grabbed one of the smaller ones. She kicked and screamed as Sawney dragged her down a corridor.

"Leave me alone fer a spell…", he grumbled over the shrieks. "I need a wee snack..."

It was about 10:00 AM when Fyewackett got back to the Hotel. There was already plenty of traffic on the road, and he'd already had to dodge a random taxi more than once. Imp City was bad with traffic, but PC was somehow even worse.

Still, it was a good morning.

The night he had spent with Sallie May was – in a way- transcendent. She was the first girl he had ever met who had actually desired him in some way, rather than just settled for him. Fye wasn't a virgin by any means, but being with Sallie made him feel like one again. The husky-voiced Imp was obviously quite experienced, and she had made sure he knew it. The things she could do with her tongue and tail were just...exquisite.

But that hadn't been where it ended. She had also...entered him. Again, it wasn't the first time he'd experienced such a thing (growing up a poor Imp among other poor Imps meant you had to make your own fun), but she was the first Imp who actually wanted to enter him. And he desperately wanted to feel her inside him, feel the warmth. She'd said that he had 'nice birthin' hips', after all. She's even let him return the favor, though his hips were rather weak by that point.

Sadly, she'd left before he woke up. She did leave him money for a cab, though.

And he'd made the genius move to just walk instead.

"Think fast!"

Screeeeech

Fye raised an eyebrow. "What in the f-YOW!"

A flying brick bounced off of his ribs and landed on the pavement.

The young Imp doubled over, falling to his knees.

"Ow….ouch….pain….so much pain…"

He scrambled back to his hooves, holding his torso. He carefully moved his fingers around his chest and stomach, checking to see if anything was broken.

But his attention was captured by something else...

The brick, now cracked and lying on the concrete, had merely been a vessel. Crudely tied to the brick was what appeared to be a note of some kind, haphazardly folded and taped. Maybe hate mail for the Princess? She'd said that many Sinners thought the Hotel was a joke.

He picked up the brick, note and all, and turned it around in his hands. The paper was white and crinkled, with what appeared to be a coffee stain on it.

Up in the corner was a cleanly printed symbol:

A blue stylized V, in a concentric red circle, with a dot in the middle.

Oh shit, Fye thought to himself. He knows...

"Oh fuck me, not again…"

Inside the Hotel Lobby, an anxious and somewhat drowsy Lucius had his head in his hands.

Both he and Viola had made their way back to the Hotel earlier that morning, with Lucius having succeeded in his 'negotiations' with the PC branch. They had been sitting down to an early breakfast with some of the staff when Fyewackett had walked through the door, letter in hand.

Husk could only whistle and shake his head in amazement.

Vagatha could feel a migraine coming on.

"If I could go just one week without getting in the middle of some fucking Overlord's pissing contest. Una. Semana. Eso es todo lo que pido…"

Fyewackett raised a hand. "So...exactly how worried should we be?"

"That's a loaded question there, kid.", Husk replied. "Overlord business is pretty fuckin' tightknit by nature. One doesn't shit in a bowl without the rest of them smellin' it."

"In other words…" Vaggie finished for him, "...We're not just in deep with Vox. We also have the rest of the V crew to deal with."

"Uuuungh", Lucius groaned into his hands.

"What do you mean?", Viola asked. "I'd have thought that Overlords hated each other to the point of wanting to have nothing to do with each other."

"Oh, I'm afraid that's far from the case with Vox, my dear...", a familiar staticy voice answered.

Walking out of a nearby green portal was the Radio Demon, twirling his cane between his fingers.

"Oh, it gets worse…", Lucius groaned.

"He's quite right, you know.", Alastor said. "Getting into a conflict with Vox also puts you in conflict with his...compatriots, shall we say."

"Like who?", Fye asked.

"Hmmm, well…"

Alastor straightened his collar and raised up two fingers. "First, you have Velvet. I believe you may know her from her work on…social media." He said these last two words with obvious scorn, nearly spitting them out on the floor.

"And the other?", Fye asked further.

"That would be Valentino. An old friend of yours I believe, Lucius!"

"AAAAAANNNNGGG!", Lucius screamed into his hands.

"Look, let's take this one problem at a time…", Vaggie said with a heaving sigh. "We've already got plans for today, so we'll just have to cross that particular bridge when we come to it."

"It's less a 'bridge' than a 'Sword of Damocles threatening to fall down and skewer you at any time'...but otherwise, I concur!", Alastor said cheerfully.

Lucius looked like he might start crying.

Viola rolled her eyes. "So out of curiosity, where's the Princess?"

"Oh! She's with Chay, actually.", Vaggie replied. "She's helping her get prepared to go to the Cannibal Colony..."

"Specifically, Rosie's Boutique.", Alastor finished for her. "Me and the owner go back a ways."

Vaggie gave Alastor the side eye. "...Yeah, what he said. You guys might want to consider preparations to if you're going with her."

Fye shrugged his shoulders. "What's there to prepare for?"

"I'm glad you asked!", He was answered by the sound of Charlie's voice and her shoes clacking down the staircase. The Princess had made some small changes to her wardrobe. Along with her red tuxedo jacket, she was now wearing a pair of red slacks to go with them. Her hair was also tied back into a broad ponytail with two different black bands bounding it together.

Viola's eyes grew large. "Goddamn…"

"Comrade Viola…", Fye remarked, 'Your nose is bleeding."

"Hush.", she whispered in reply.

"Is she ready?", Vaggie asked.

"Working on it.", Charlie replied, giving Vaggie a peck on the cheek. "I've left her in Mimzy's care. I figured she and Shakie could help rustle something up for her. Now then, did I hear something about Vox?"

"Kill me…", Lucius groaned

"You have such pretty hair. Why don't you brush it more?"

A few floors up from the lobby, Chay was sitting in an upholstered chair in front of a brightly lit mirror. Shakie was behind her, combing through Chay's raven locks. It was more of a job than she thought it would be, as Chay had clearly not taken a comb to her scalp in months.

"That's why I got the bob cut.", a female voice in a nearby closet said. "Low maintenance. You said you didn't want to wear nylon, right?"

"I don't do lingerie, Mimzy.", Chay responded flatly. "No matter what Alastor says."

"Ah, he was just tryin' to bug ya. We'll get ya nice and dudded up, promise!"

Chay rolled her eyes. "This seems like more trouble than it's worth."

"You heard what Charlie said.", Shakie tutted. "If we're gonna look around Cannibal Colony, you have to look the part."

"Listen to yer pal, toots. She ain't lyin'. Now, are ya sure you don't want a dress?"

"Dresses make me uncomfortable.", Chay answered. "They make my legs feel too exposed. Now, this place we're going to-"

"Rosie's."

"Yeah, that. What can you tell me about it? About her?"

"It's the Cat's Meow, girl!"

Mimzy finally emerged out of the closet, with an armful of shirts and pants in her grayish arm. Mimzy was a fairly un-altered Sinner, much like Coi, with only her pink eyes and unusual skin color to show for it. She had been an actress during the Flapper era, and she looked and sounded the part (almost stereotypically so): Strong Brooklyn accent, curvy figure, platinum blonde bobcut, bushy eyelashes, a very form-fitting magenta flapper dress, a dark pink headband with a feather, and dark pink elbow-length opera gloves.

It had been Mimzy's curves that first struck Chay, making her blush so hard it nearly made her sweat. Were it not for her bra and garters, she probably would have killed Chay all over again.

"But ya gotta dress to impress, otherwise the passer-by will pounce on ya like tigers on a t-bone. Now, would a nice suit work for ya?"

Chay raised an eyebrow. "You have men's suits?"

"Sure! I do drag night every month with Angel. Now c'mon over and take a look!"

Chay looked up at Shakie's reflection in the mirror, who simply shrugged her shoulders in response. She got up from the chair and walked over to Mimzy. The shorter Sinner grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her behind an ornate dressing screen which had vaguely Ukiyo-e type artwork on its panels.

"Alright, now strip."

"Ummm…"

"Ya really gonna get all shy on me now?"

"It's just kind of sudden…"

"Look, I'll strip down to. Will that make ya feel better?"

"I don't think…"

Fwip fwump

"There. Now you.

"…."

"My eyes are up here, Chay."

"Oh! Sorry, um...OK…"

rustle fwip fwump

"Holy Moly, where were you hiding those?!

"Mimzy, please…"

Shakie turned her head. "You guys need any help?"

"No!", they both answered in unison.

"Look, just take this and…"

"...Okay?"

"Not bad?"

"...Yeah, not bad."

"Alright, then let's button these up, and then…"

"...Huh. This isn't actually half bad at all."

"...And then we tie this back...and voila!"

Mimzy walked out from behind the screen and clapped her hands.

"Presenting...the new, Ducky lookin' Chay Ong!"

From behind the screen emerged Chay, now with an entirely new look.

Her hair had been tied back into a tight ponytail, stretching down to her back. Around her neck was a green bow tie, with a black shirt and green jacket with black pinstripes. Her pants also had the same pattern, and the chain of a silver pocket watch hung out of her pocket.

Shakie's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"Chay...you look…"

Chay walked over the mirror to get a good look at herself. She moved her head from side to side, smoothing out her jacket with her hands.

"I must admit, Mimzy, you've done a good job."

"Told ya!", Mimzy answered back. "You look as good as Rudolph V.!"

Shakie walked up to Chay, looking her over.

"Chay...you look incredible."

"You really think so?", She asked, looking herself over. "You don't think it's a little flashy?"

Shakie couldn't help but laugh. "Chay...you may be the most handsome girl I've ever seen."

"Alastor can eat his heart out.", Mimzy said laughing. "Now c'mon. Charlie's waiting for us."

The work was tiring.

Underneath the city of PC, in its reeking sewers, He was respiring.

The chaos was coming. He knew it to be true, for he had helped to orchestrate it. Those odd little trinkets had been difficult to reproduce, but it had been a success.

It required much blood-letting, but he was no stranger to such thing.

But even in eternity, the flesh could be weak, and at that very moment, he was weak.

A buzzing sound was heard in his pocket.

The Sinner pulled it out to look at the glowing screen. It had taken him years to finally adopt this technology. When he had arrived, LAN Lines and wired telephones were still the standard, and telegrams were still part of standard operating proceedure. He's used them frequently while he was in Uruguay.

The screen glowed a message from his benefactor.

:REPORT:

He slowly tapped out a message. He was a terrible typist, even when he was alive.

:PREPARATIONS COMPLETE

AWAITING ORDERS:

He sighed under the wait of his labors.

A message buzzed back.

:VERY GOOD.

STANDBY FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS

DO NOT FORGET YOUR READING

SIGNING OFF:

He pocketed the phone back into his grimey smock. He removed the blood-covered gloves from his hands and sat them next to his work table, where a still living Imp was quietly sobbing at the agony of its exposed innards.

He went over to a rusty shelf, where his papers were kept. He opened up a brown box, inside of which was a crudely photocopies stack of pages, stapled together.

He sat down on his stool, and began to read.

"Along the shore the cloud waves break,
The twin suns sink behind the lake,
The shadows lengthen
In Carcosa..."

CHAPTER 12 END