Chapter 2: Pizza Delivery

Setty leapt from the roof, her wings carrying her across the gap and onto the building across the street. She glanced at the Hellphone, seeing the little dots on the locator moving towards the rally point… all but one.

She smirked.

Trell was close by.

The building was old and dingy, even by the neighborhood's standards. Some manner of warehouse or shop by the look of it. This area had been an industrial center at some point long ago, before the Sinners started moving in and 'gentrifying' the area. All this really meant was that Sinner gangs had moved in and started setting up their garish brothels, bars, and higher income slums to replace the hovels the Hellborn had been living in. Another bite taken out of Imp City. It was more or less the reason Lady Belladonna had kept clear of the area all these years, unwilling to face actual competition for her humble operation. But for some reason the Old Goat had recently mustered the gumption to expand her operation, something to do with the war Setty overheard Johns chatting about as they smoked their cigarettes after another sweaty 'conquest'. Current events Setty couldn't care less about.

She made her away across the warehouse roof, silently stalking around defunct air conditioners and ventilation vents. She came upon an extended pyramid skylight peering through one of the many empty sills that once held glass, long since scavenged, and listened.

"...think they got the… ssage?" One voice said, rough and feminine said, more echo than speech.

"If not…" Came another, mostly consumed by distance, but unmistakably masculine. "...en we mail… back, piece by pi…"

Setty snarled silently and hopped through the skylight, chain wrapped tight so as not to make a sound. The interior was dark, mostly illuminated by the dingy light pouring in through the skylights. Her sharp eyes could see the dim glow of one, maybe two functioning lights emanating from between two decrepit storage shelves. She crept along the walkways, the conversation becoming clearer as she did.

"I wish I could see the Old Cow's face when we she opens the first box!" The raspy and increasingly familiar voice said. "See her eyes bug out!"

"We'll see her eyes bug soon enough," said another, a bull-necked male imp. "With who's rollin' into town, it's only a matter of time before she's made example of. In the meantime, let's get to work."

Setty crawled along the catwalk overhanging the illuminated area. In the middle of the pool of light lay Trell, hogtied and gagged, his bruised, swollen face wet with tears. Around him stood an assortment of Hellborn, five in all, and one familiar Sinner, a Goldie by the name of Joplin. She was tall with a poofy mane of auburn hair, some manner of harlequin demon judging by her facial markings. On her face was an oversized red eye opposite a quartet of smaller blue ones with a hawkish nose in the middle. What she lacked in the chest department she made up for with her wide hips and long legs, features she advertised as garishly as possible.

Setty grit her teeth, Joplin and her Goldies, or 'Valkyries' as she called her 'gang', had been an irritation for as long as Setty could remember. The branding they put on Ixie gave them dead away, posing as meaner demons was practically their calling card. They were vicious and cruel but Setty and her girls had sent them packing often enough to know that royalty wiped their asses with tougher stuff.

"Hear that, bitch?" Joplin sneered at the bound incubus, brandishing some kind of odd, metal stamp. "We're gonna cut you up into little pieces. But first, we're gonna brand you, one for each piece. Bit by bit, we'll mail you back to that bitch, let her know who's comin'. Bit by bit. Don't cry, sweetie! We'll try to keep you alive as long as possible."

That cut it.

Setty readied her dagger, the heft of the chain tight on her arm. With a single fluid motion she cleared the railing. Her wings slowed her descent and guided her towards her first target, the robust imp gigolo that was currently serving as Goldie's right hand. She took aim and went into free-fall, building up speed as she pointed her stiletto down, her heavy chain-wrapped hand over the pommel. The eight-inch blade slid into the top of the imp's skull, directly between the horns, parsing bone with a crisp 'thok'.

"Hey, sounds like green," The imp said, tone chipper as half his face slumped.

Setty worked the handle back and forth, stirring, before wrenching it out. The gigolo toppled forward, Setty pushing off his shoulders and towards Joplin, who was just turning around at the commotion. Setty roared and swung out in an arc, chain extending as she did. The ⅜" chain caught the Sinner across the cheek in a slashing motion. Her head snapped to the side as she was sent stumbling off balance. The young succubus followed up with a stab to the gut, only for the sturdy Sinner to kick out in a roundhouse. Setty ducked it, but just barely, pulling into a roll across the floor, getting back on her feet a couple meters away. The four Hellborn, a succubi, an incubi, a female imp, and a satyr, formed up on Joplin, who was rubbing her bruised cheek.

"Well, well, well," Joplin growled. "I was wonderin' when you'd show up. "How's the Carriage House treatin' you, bitch?"

"A lot better than the streets're treating you," Setty sneered. "You're looking rougher than usual, Jop. What? The Johns around here don't like roast beef?"

A round of sniggers rose from her crew, silenced by a growl and a glare, she turned back to the young succubus. "Yeah, keep runnin' that smart mouth, you little cooze. Used to be I was happy to just wait for the Old Cow to kick you out and then you'd be mine, teach you some manners myself. But now, we've got an angle. And we're gonna see to it that you and all your little rats get tossed out, that orphanage burned down, and the rest of you pole-shiners put to work under us! And let me tell you now, we ain't as nice as Lady Belladon–!"

The chain lashed out like a whip, catching Joplin across the same cheek in a second. "Gah!"

"Talk shit," Setty said, now in her face. "Get hit."

She grabbed Joplin's shoulders and swung between her legs, driving the knife into her calf as she did. Too deeply, as it stuck there.

"Fuck!"

Setty spung to her feet and swung the chain at the impess, only to have her duck and wrap the metal links around her horns, jamming them. With a backwards jerk of her head, she yanked the chain from her grasp. The satyr rushed forward in a charge, her caprine horns smashing into Setty's sternum with a resounding 'crack'. Her breath exploded from her mouth in a long grunt, her gorge threatening to rise, bitter in her mouth. A pair of steely arms looped under hers and pulled her into a full nelson. The succubus, older than her and taller and in high heels, hefted her off the ground, leaving her legs to kick in the air. As the satyr tried to untangle the heavy chain from the impess' horns, the incubus pulled up in front of her. He grinned toothily as he put up his mits, his lean, crotchless leather chaps-clad legs spreading to a boxer's stance, his fingers studded with heavy metal rings. Setty's tail shot up between his legs to the speedo he was wearing. The wide fleshy heart-shaped appendage at the end of her tail curled around what she found there and squeezed with a brutal, practiced strength. She could squeeze and hold a 90lb grip spring with it.

"GAHHH!" The incubus bellowed and doubled over, his red face paling as certain parts were ground together and crushed. "Get it off! Getitoffgetitoffgetitoff!"

Her toned belly bunched as she swung her knees up to her chest, coiling like a spring. With a roar, her feet shot out, smashing her high-heels into his upturned face, sending him tumbling back as she pushed backwards, knocking the succubus off her stiletto-heeled feet. Setty angled her horns backward as they fell, grinning as she felt one of them sink into something soft when they hit the ground. She was released and shoved off as the succubus rolled to her knees, clutching her bleeding face.

"AAAAAHHH!" The succubus wailed. "You bitch! You fucking little–ACK!"

Setty thudded onto her back, one hand grabbing her horn as she hooked two steely fingers into her mouth with the other. She pushed down on the horn as she pulled back with the other in a brutal fish-hook. The succubus squealed in pain as her lip and cheek began to tear, her legs kicking. Setty reared back and smashed the bitch's face into the concrete.

"Alright, that's enough," said a voice in the darkness. "Stomper, break it up."

"Oi keep yellin ya, it'z 'Stompah'!" A deep, clotted voice responded.

"Whatever, just do it."

Before Setty could turn her head, a hand the size of a catcher's mitt clamped down on the back of her slender neck, hauling her off the sobbing Goldie. She was pulled high into the air, her legs kicking a good two feet off the ground. She grabbed and scratched uselessly at the hand and wrist, her long black nails snapping on his pebbled hide.

"Dat's enuff, luv," said the rumbling voice, his long, sausage-thick fingers squeezing her airway shut, threatening to pop her vertebrae apart. "Eezee now."

She was turned around to face her assailant, a huge green-skinned Sinner with deep-set red eyes, his protruding jaw square as an anvil and twice as hard, two tusks poking up through his apish lips, one of them solid gold, as his mouth curled into an unpleasant grin. Atop his head sat a miniscule imp, his glowing eyes alight with manic glee beneath his tiny bowler hat.

"Pretty, pretty poozle," crooned the little imp.

"Simma down, Puck!" Stompah chided.

Stompah turned about, holding her out like a freshly caught trout. Before her a quartet of Sinners strolled out of the darkness. They were dressed in garish, florid clothing, a rainbow of silk ties and satin fur-trimmed suits with velour vests, all bearing gold and silver chains and rings. One of them, a rail-thin elfish demon with shimmering back-length platinum hair, bore a wide-brimmed feather hat, her glowing green eyes peering out from under it. Most horrifyingly, glinting from their wide, toothy smiles were signature golden fangs.

Pimp-like uniforms and gold fangs. The calling card of…

"Shit."

"That's right, darling," said the lead demon, a towering, muscular Sinner resembling a cross between a direwolf and a crocodile. "And you're neck-deep in it."


The TV blared as they sat in a circle around it. Even without a landline or antennae, their set got perfect resolution, one of the perks of working for Overlord Vox. The screen-faced egotist couldn't bear to imagine his grunts being too far away from his ceaseless, lurid broadcasts. The turf war in PC Central had really kicked it up a notch, with just about every channel attempting at least some form of coverage. So far, the best of the lot was Tom Trench of Channel 666. Normally, the obsequious little toad sat opposite Katie Killjoy, absorbing more abuse than a tampon in the Gluttony Ring. But to everyone's surprise, the little shit seemed right at home in a warzone, getting footage no one else had the balls or knowhow to get. All in all, it made for some pretty great television!

Steppenwulf couldn't bear to look, lest his bloodlust get up.

"Sounds like things are really heating up, Tom!" Katie Killjoy said, her rictus grin a grimace beneath the hateful glint in her eyes. "If this keeps up, you'll be crawling back here in a bucket!"

"Ratings or death, Katie!" Tom roared, brandishing a trench-shovel as he led his camera crew over the top into a hail of machine-gun fire. "A REWARD TO ANYONE WHO BRINGS ME AN EAR! FIVE $OULS EACH!"

"I DID NOT SIGN OFF ON THAT!" Katie screeched.

"Oooweheheheh~" Giggled a tattered doll-like demon with wooly red hair, the orange spots on his cheeks raised in a dreamy smile. "I tells ya, man, I'd do things to get with Ms. Killjoy. Unforgivable things."

"Jamsers, for fuck's sake!" exclaimed a slender, dour-faced purple smilodon. "That face-lift on legs?"

"Long legs, Pall!" Jamsers nodded fervently. "Loooong legs! I wanna wrap 'em 'round my head and wear her like a feedbag!"

Pall scoffed. "You hearin' this, Step?"

"Yeap," said Steppenwulf, not looking up from his newspaper. "Jammy wants to get sticky with the cellophane dame. Heard it all before."

"Not sticky!" Jamsers protested. "I'd only eat classy things outta her ass! Mmm… beluga caviar, fois gras maybe… No, wait! Poutine!"

"Oh christ~" Pall gagged, his hand over his mouth.

"Stoppit, ya grot," Stompah snorted. "Yooz makin' me 'ungry."

"Ungry! Ungry!" Puck crowed, hopping up and down on Stompah's shoulder. "Missed brekfast!"

"Any word from the boss, Step?" A gorgeous elven demon in an impeccable white silk three-piece suit and feathered had said, examining herself in her mirror.

"Nothing so far, Shoresy," Steppenwulf replied. "I'll give him five more minutes before we move forward with the plan anyway."

"OWWW! FUCK!"

They turned to see one of the peasants they'd 'allied' with, the incubus, and hanging from his hand by her teeth was the feisty little succubus who'd crashed the party, her arms and legs bound as she hung in the air.

"Good," said Shoresy, snapping her mirror shut. "Five more minutes of babysitting these dipshits is about all I can stomach."

"Don't talk to me about how much you can stomach," Steppenwulf grumbled, getting to his feet and pointing to the TV, where Tom Trench was splitting a demon's skull in half with his shovel. "I should be out there! Shredding fools and making an actual name for myself! Instead, I'm guarding the backyard from rats like some mangy guard dog!"

"As opposed to guarding his penthouses like a well-groomed guard dog? Babe, this is a step up! You got a foot in the door for Val's backyard expansion," said Shoresy, placatingly. "You'll be his number one guy back here once we flush out these squatters. Territorial management's more your speed, isn't it?"

"Well…" he said, smiling wolfishly, a hand snaking around her narrow waist pulling her close for a kiss. "I am pretty territorial."

She set a delicate finger on his nose, smiling gently. "Then go protect your kill, Alpha."

He tilted his head quizzically when his ear twitched, detecting the familiar tones of killing intent. He turned to see the lead freelancer - a dirty word in his neck of the woods - standing over the helpless succubus, the Vees' Seraphim Steel branding iron raised over her head like a club. He rolled his eyes and vanished in a whirl of ephemeral smoke.

"You filthy little hooer!" Joplin hissed.

The smoke curled around her wrist in the vague shape of a hand before solidifying into Steppenwulf's massive scaly paw, twisting the branding iron out of her hand. "Not like you filthy big hooers, huh? You pissants got your kill. This one's ours, so hands off."

Before she could open her mouth he cast her aside on the floor, where she was immediately fawned over by her battered crew. Steppenwulf snorted at them and knelt down to the little succubus. She met his gaze, her rose-colored eyes holding in them not a touch of fear, only burning hatred.

"Mean little thing, aintcha?" He said, amused. "I like that in a gal."

"That's Belladonna's best girl," Joplin sneered, unprompted.

Steppenwulf contemplated decapitating the presumptuous nobody, but he hadn't gotten the call yet. "I can see it."

"She practically runs the cathouse I was tellin' you about," she continued. "And she teaches all the new girls how to run their corners."

He stood up, a wisp of smoke wrapping around the 'best girl', lifting her off the floor. His smokey tendrils searched her, weaving into her pockets and producing a pack of cigarettes. They extricated one and plopped it into his mouth. "Gotta light?"

She said nothing, glaring at him as though trying to hate him to second-death.

"S'cool." The tip of the cigarette lit itself and he took a drag. "So. Setty, was it? What're you doing here, Setty?"

She said nothing.

He glanced over her shoulder at the other kid, the incubus they'd picked up. "One of yours, yeah? I take it you saw what they did to the one they turned loose. So you came over here to… get him back? Loyalty. I like that, too. Now, Setty, we beat you back there, by law that means you belong to us. You know who we work for, yeah? Well, what if I told you we had space in our organization for loyal, motivated girls who know their stuff? You know your way around this neck of the woods, and I saw you fight back there! I gotta say, I'm impressed, and I don't impress easy. We could really use a lady of your talents. What do you say?"

Setty glared at him for a moment before lunging forward, spitting in his eye. Steppenwulf smirked and pulled on the cigarette, smoke curling out of his snout as his long tongue rolled up and licked the spit from his eye. The wisps tossed her to the hard ground.

"Tough bitch. Don't worry, Valentino likes 'em tough. More fun to chew. Hey, you lot!" The freelancers all looked up at the commanding bark, seeing him point to the prone succubus. "Tenderize her. But lay off the face, Val likes 'em pretty."

The viscous whores set upon her with cackles and curses, kicking and stomping, though careful to not go too hard.

Steppenwulf savored the show as he enjoyed his cigarette, Joplin sweeping up beside him. "Mr. Steppenwulf, sir, can I talk to you?"

C'mon, Val, answer. "Myeh."

"I was just thinkin', you know, how to send a message to the Goat Lady." She pointed to Setty as she took a heel to the gut. "That's her best girl."

"You said that already."

"Well, I was just thinkin' yeah? Why don't we carve her up instead?" Joplin smiled, the gaps in her fangs making her resemble a jack-o-lantern. "Brand her, cut her up, mail it off, rinse and repeat, yeah?"

Steppenwulf found himself faintly repulsed by the petty glee the Sinner was getting from the idea. He could respect bloodlust, but vindictiveness made his skin crawl.

"Send a better message to her, yeah?" Joplin continued, pointing to the incubus. "If Val wants meat, he can have that one! We haven't roughed him up too much and–"

Steppenwulf held up a finger as his phone buzzed, Joplin obediently shutting up. It was a text from Val, it read 'ya sure lol'.

"Fuck, finally," Steppenwulf sighed in relief.

"What?" Joplin said. "What's going on?"

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers three times, rapidly, pointing to the freelancer. Shoresy smirked and reached into the flowing sleeve of her silk suit, drawing a long, narrow Seraphim Steel blade. With an eerie grace she extended her arm out to the side, poised and smooth like a ballet dancer. With an elegant follow-through and a snap of the wrist, the blade was sent whistling through the air, lodging itself in the base of Joplin's skull with a musical 'shing'. Joplin stood, dead on her feet, one of her smaller blue eyes hanging out on the point of the blade. Shoresy made a seductive 'come-hither' motion with one of her dainty fingers, the silver ring on it glowing blue. The knife-handle glowed as well and slid out without so much as a sound or a catch on flesh or bone, streaking back into her hand.

"Aaaand…" Jamsers cheered, hopping off the floor and stomping on the ground. "Drop!"

Like that, Joplin fell to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. The other freelancers stopped their pummeling, their eyes wide with shock.

"Alright, sluts, listen up!" Steppenwulf announced. "You all work for Valentino now. From now on you spread your legs where he says to, when he says to. He expects a 50% cut at the end of every day. So concludes your intensive employee orientation seminar."

"B-but…" the succubus new-hire stammered, tears pouring down her bandaged face as she pointed to the corpse. "Y-ya said to Joplin that we'd get to stay inipennit if we helped ya…"

"Did I?" Steppenwulf glanced at the corpse, it twitched a bit and was then still. He turned back to the newbies, smiling apologetically. "Gee, kid, I dunno what to say. See, there's this new thing on the street, it's called 'lying'. Anyway, we're gonna do what we were gonna do. You four, get to branding and cutting up the twink. Chop-chop!"

They stood in stupefied silence, eyes on their former leader.

Steppenwulf snapped his fingers twice, his henchmen at his side in a moment, in their hands were blessing-tipped assault rifles and Seraphim Steel weapons. "I said 'chop-chop'."

The new-hires jumped and nodded, clucking like frightened chickens as they dragged the struggling, wailing incubus away, leaving a battered Setty on the floor.

"Ah-ta-ta-ta!" Shoresy interjected, pointing to Setty. "...Make her watch."

A row of rueful chuckles rose from the Sinners, Stompah playfully jostling Steppenwulf. "Ut-oh, boss! Soundz loik 'Er Laydeeship iz cross witcha!"

"Cross cross cross!" Puck squawked atop his shoulder.

Steppenwulf smirked and turned to Shoresy, pointed ears down in a playful show of contrition. "Is my li'l china doll jealous?"

"Bossman got bit too friendly wit' the filly!" Jamsers snickered, punching Pall's shoulder.

Pall reached over and flicked Steppenwulf's ear. "A fresh cut a meat'll turn any dog's head!"

Shoresy shot the toothy feline a nasty look before taking Steppenwulf's face in her hands. "You don't lick up anyone's spit but mine, you hear me, Kremling?"

The group exploded into laughter as Steppenwulf drank in his lady, smiling wolfishly. "I swear, from now on, yours are the only bodily fluids I'll ever lap up!"

She smirked at this. "A promise for later?"

"A guaran-fuckin-tee~"

One of the newbies, the impess, cleared her throat, a nervous look on her face.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Steppenwulf, waving her off. "Make her watch you do her pal. But don't hurt her." He turned back to Shoresy, smiling apologetically. "Val'll like a little bit of spoils from this front, eh?"

Shoresy sighed and nodded, gesturing for them to get on with it. Setty and Trell squirmed on the ground as the four closed around them, pulling out blades and a saw, their previous daze now washed away in a rush of bloodlust. Trell squealed and squirmed as they cut the rope holding his ankle and wrist bindings together, the succubus and satyr stretching him out on the floor by his wrists and ankles. The impess approached with the knife, grinning toothily, the blade shining in the light. Trell loosed a muffled scream when the cold steel dimpled the flesh just above his knee.

"Wait!" Shoresy exclaimed, storming forward.

They stopped as though commanded by Lucifer himself, staring up at the towering Sinner as she approached. Shoresy knelt down and set the heavy polished Seraphim Steel Vees brand on the floor next to the impess, glaring into Setty's eyes. "Don't forget this. Be sure to use it before each cut."

Setty glowered at the Sinner, who seemed to extract great satisfaction from it before getting up and walking back to her team. "Continue."

The impess picked up the brand and held it up, preparing to bring it down on the boy's calf.

'BOOM!'

They all froze in place.

'BOOM!'

They spun around at the sound of metal being pounded.

'BOOM!'

Silence filled the air.

"Oh, hey!" Jamsers chirped. "That must be the pizza!"

"The…" Steppenwulf growled, turning to face him. "...Pizza?"

"Yeah!" Jamsers said, nodding. "I ordered us up some pies since we missed breakfast."

"And you had them delivered…" Steppenwulf said, looming over the doll-demon. "To our secret base of operations?!"

Jamsers shrugged, smiling nervously. "...We missed breakfast?"

"Wait, 'ang about. Dis place wuz 'spozed ta be a seekrit?" Stompah inquired, holding up his phone. "Cuz oiv been streemin' dis hol' toim. Say 'ullo, Stompah Army!"

Stompah's phone buzzed as the chat exploded, Shoresy giggled elegantly into the back of her hand as Steppenwulf clapped his palm to his face in dismay.

'BOOM BOOM?'

"Delivery guy's waitin'."

When he centered himself he sighed and waved them off. "Just go get the pies."

"And miss this show? C'mooon, boss!"

Steppenwulf pointed to the incubus, who jumped back as though he were pointing a gun, hands raised. "You. Boipussy. Go get our pizza."

Shoresy flicked a card at him, it danced about as though on a magical breeze, lodging itself between his fingers. "It's a Valentino employee credit card. Bring it right back, dear."

The incubus nodded and scurried out. With that they turned back to the show. The impess readied the brand. The metal could not be made hot by any means, so the stamp was actually razor sharp to break the skin and plunge deep, effectively mimicking the effects of hot iron. Trell wriggled and pleaded, tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes bugging out of his skull, squeezing shut as he prepared for the burning agony, the sharpened stamp touching his bare flesh.

Cold.

So cold.

"Waitaminute!" Pall cried, stepping forward. "Hold on!"

"Ahhhg!" Steppenwulf cried. "What now?!"

"Are we really going to start with the foot?" Pall inquired, distaste clear in his voice. "I mean, leg, but foot also?"

"Leg, arm, left asscheek!" Steppenwulf threw his hands in the air. "What difference does it make!?"

"Well," said Pall, his tone scholarly. "We're trying to make an impression, aren't we? So she sees, what, a foot in a box? What kind of first impression does that make?"

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever–"

"Naw, naw," Stompah interjected. "Pall's gotta point. Furst impreshuns iz voital fer dis sorta fing. We'z gotta show 'er we meenz biznizz roit off th'bat."

"Thank you, Stompah. The way I see it, we send her a hand first, with the brand and everything," Pall said, hands out as though framing a picture. "Maybe holding a piece of jewelry or something that identifies him? Visual language, see?"

"That does sound pretty good, actually," Steppenwulf conceded, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

"Feet feet feet!" Puck crowed, hopping up and down. "Puck likes feet!"

"Also a fair point."

Pall scowled at the little imp. "Fine. I'll roshambo you for it."

"Feet!" Puck agreed, offering his fist.

"One… two… three… go!"

Pall put out paper, Puck put out scissors.

"Shit!" Pall spat. "Best two of three!"


The incubus, a lowly sort by the name of Foss, skulked through the dark corridors. He knew this had been a bad idea, from the second he saw those Sinners, he knew! Fancy types like that don't parlay with their kind! They crush and subjugate! He knew, they all knew, but Joplin… well, he imagined she fancied herself one of them. Or, that she could be. As a Sinner, she had that ability. To improve her standing and become… anything, really. Even an Overlord!

But now she was dead.

She was dead and they were theirs now, their property.

So it was for their kind, for Hellborn too poor or weak to take what they wanted or make their own lives. Oh, well. At least with Valentino as their boss they wouldn't have to worry about other Goldies. Yeah! They could sell wherever they liked, and not even the local gangs would try to stop them, especially if the Vees became this neighborhood's owners. The cut in pay was… drastic, but that just meant he'd have to work twice as hard! Not to mention he could pull down all kinds of customers with Valentino's colors on his assless chaps! Maybe, finally, things were looking up?

He approached the heavy metal door that served as the hideout's first line of defense. It was a three-inch thick, riveted steel slab with a sliding metal portal at around eye-level for him. This would allow him to see who's there, pay, and maybe even pass the pizza's through without opening it! That'd be ideal, even if he doubted anyone in this shithouse nabe had the balls to cross a worker of the Vees! Besides, what if the pizza boy was willing to give him a freebie pizza in exchange for 'alternative payment'?

He slid the shutter open, putting on an effeminate lilt. "Hello, pizza boy~"

An enormous fist clad in glittering Seraphim Steel punched through the portal, curling inches of steel inward like it was wet putty. Foss didn't even have time to gasp as the hand closed around his head, eclipsing it, and wrenched him into the unyielding steel.


Pall walked around with Shoresy's hat, each one of the gang writing on a scrap of paper. "Cast your votes, we'll do this democratically."

"Man," said Shoresy, writing her vote. "Pall really can't take an L."

"This is easily the stupidest thing I've tolerated today," Steppenwulf grumbled, writing regardless. "I don't even know why I'm participating."

"Man!" Jamsers exclaimed, dropping his folded vote in the hat. "What's takin' Cap'n Chaps so long with the pies? I'm starvin' over here!"

"Why don't you go find out?" Shoresy said, smirking. "Way this is going, Pall'll demand a recount."

"Only if I suspect tampering or fraud!" Pall announced, flipping them off.

"We'z gunna be 'ere all day," Stompah moaned. "Go gettem piez, will ya Jamsy?"

"Maybe I'll give him a li'l longer," the ragdoll demon said. "It was a pretty big order, after all."

Pall arched his eyebrow. "What'd you get?"

"36 large pizza family meals," Jamsers replies, blithely.

"36?!" Steppenwulf sputtered. "Beelzebub's balls! Why!?"

Jamsers shrugged. "We missed breakfast?"

"Wot's inna fambly meel, den?"

"A large pizza with garlic and cheese breadsticks, 4 dipping sauces, and a dessert tray with either cinnamon rolls, a cookie pizza, or a brownie tray."

"Fuck," Steppenwulf grunted. "That sounds pretty good, actually. What toppings?"

"All of 'em." Jamsers said. "They had 36 topping combinations. No customization, but cheap."

"Stuffed crusts?" Shoresy inquired, hopefully.

"Naw, that'd cost extra."

"Damnit," Steppenwulf growled. "Now I'm hungry."

They waited as Pall counted the votes for the second time and began the third.

Steppenwulf turned to Jamsers. "Go see what's taking the whore so long."

"Oh, fine!"


Jamsers made for the entrance, his gangmates' bickering fading as he entered the hallway to the entrance. He smirked when his stitched-on nose could detect the faint, cheesy smell of pizza with an undercurrent of warm, grease-soaked cardboard. There was something else in the air too. Something damp and metallic, like a rusty puddle or old copper pipes full of ancient effluence. He dismissed this as one of the many odd smells that come with dilapidated buildings. Once they ran this hood, this warehouse and all those Hellborn hovels would be stomped flat and real buildings where real people could live would spring up. Val, Vox, and Velvet had the right idea: grab as much of the free turf in Central as you can, but don't forget to take a bite out of someone else's ass while you're doing it! Play your cards right and they'll be too gassed from fighting over Central to try and take it back. Two-way expansion!

"Hey! Twinky-boo~! Where you at!? I swears, if you're 'payin' the delivery boy' instead of gettin' us our lunch," he said as he turned the corner. "I may just… have to… join in?"

Before him was the door, at the foot of it looked to be a pair of shoes laying strewn atop a pile of wet clothing. More pertinent was the soccerball-sized hole in the door, the three inch thick steel curled outwards like the petals of a flower. As he approached, he could see something dripping down the metal; black incubus blood and chunks of stuff, red strips of hide dangled from the sharp metal edges. He looked back down at the shoes resting askew on the pile of clothes.

There were still feet in them, ankle bones protruding.

And they weren't sitting on clothes. Well, they were, those were mixed in with what appeared to be shredded sloughs of flesh, a mangled limb or two, and innards.

A smooth, deep voice sounded from behind him, somewhere high over his head. "Pizza delivery."