CHAPTER 2

How D'Ye Do and Shake Hands

Several blocks away from a certain spice shop, there is an acre of greenwood. The grass and treetops are green with hardy brown trunks standing in between them, flowers were spread out in beds or on shrubs, and sidewalks snaked through out it all. Walls of stone and iron fenced around the land and marked its cardinal entryways with tall pillars. Stretched between the pillars were wrought iron arches that were artfully twisted to display the land's name: West Hellebore Park.

It was one of the very few places so near to the Colony where the cannibals didn't attack you on sight for being an interloper, provided you didn't do something stupid to push your luck. Pointing a finger directly over the borderline into their territory, for example? In this matter, said action is stupid and left said body part up for grabs. Literally.

There'd be a scuffle or heated argument now and then, and a cannibal or two will try to lure unsuspecting prey over to Colony grounds, but on the whole West Hellebore was viewed as a form of neutral ground by the locals, meaning that all regular visitors felt more inclined to keep their aggressive tendencies in check. Even Jack the Ripper behaved himself.

With this being the case, it wasn't unusual to find a small crowd of demons from all walks of Damnation freely mingling around a gazebo. It was one of the smaller, more modest gazebos in the park, just big enough for a party of six average size demons (or ten average size imps). Spaced out on the gazebo's staircase was a barbershop quartet consisting of four vulture-like Sinners, while a fifth bird, this one a crow, doubled as the groups' barker and conductor. He stood before them at the bottom of the steps, waving his taloned hands to the flow of the melody as the others crooned.

"I never shall forget the night I made six scrappers run,

Although I didn't have a knife, a blackjack, or a gun,

I proved myself a hero, of a very high degr~ee!

I ran for home, and six of them, were running after me~ee!

I'm a member of the Midnight Crew,

I'm a night owl, and a wise bird too!

Home with the milk in the morning,

Singing the same old, same old song!

Rise with the moon, go to bed with the sun,

Early to bed, and you'll miss all the fun,

Bring your wife and trouble, it will never trouble you,

Make her a member of the Midnight Crew!

Make her a member of the Mid-night Cr~ew!"

The audience clapped and cheered as the small flock gave a collective bow, then brought out their purses and wallets when the crow moved about them with an upturned fedora. Watching the bird make his rounds were two Sinners that everyone was making a point to keep one eye on, while also trying to maintain a respectable distance from them.

The pair in question, a man and a woman, were as different as night and day. The man drew the eye first due to him being formidable in both height and width. His broad, filiform body was dressed in an expensive turn of the century three-piece suit, carefully tailored so that his paunch was slimmed down without him being constricted. Any part of his body not hidden by clothing showed that he was covered in striped tricolored fur, including the long tail that was idly swaying behind him. Piercing yellow orbs set in money green sclera were shadowed neath the brim of his top hat, and his face was framed by thick eyebrows and a pair of dense sideburns groomed to merge with the mustache resting under his cat like nose. He worked his jaw as he counted down the minutes they had left to spend in the park, or at least until they moved on from the no-smoking zone they were currently standing in.

In sharp contrast, his lady associate was thin yet shapely as an elongated flower vase. She donned a wide brimmed sunhat decorated with flowers, skulls, and a trio of plumes draping in the back, all colored to match with her full-length dress of muted red with black & grey accents. Beneath it was a head with short white hair and a dainty, pale grey face. Overall, she was a lovely woman, but her solid black eyes and the feminine, sharp-toothed smile that she wore gave one the impression of being eye-to-eye with a highly intelligent shark. She'd been humming along with the quartet as she grasped the handle of her parasol, waiting patiently for the crow to draw near.

"Ah cha cha!" The crow cackled. Unlike the vultures, his voice was rough as you'd expect. "Ain't they swell, ladies and gentlemen? A de-lightful treat for the ears! Ya wanna know somethin' else that's a treat, folks?" He rattled the change in his fedora. "Feedin' the birds!"

The fact that he had the crowd laughing instead of shooing him away was testament of the crow's charm. He made them grin and snicker at his playful word-butchering as he went by, money, change, and the occasional bauble dropped in the proffered hat. When the stoic member of a group of ladies tried to hold out, the crow went to his knees and adopted a sad, wide-eyed look that would've been more effective on an adorable street urchin. On him it just looked silly. Enough so that it made the stingy woman hide a grin behind her fan as she surrendered a handful of change. She and her friends all burst into giggles when he pretended to be so shocked by her offering that he "fainted" on the sidewalk. Grinning at everyone's amusement, he hauled himself to his feet and started to wrap things up.

"Yes siree, folks! Be it dollars or dimes, ha'pennies or gold nuggets, any form of mono-tary assistance would be greatly oh-ppreciated! In case you forgot our names, allow me to remind ya!" He waved his free hand towards the now mingling vultures. "Let's all give another round of applause to the Fleet Street Four!" The quartet smiled and waved at the crowd's warm response. "And as for yours truly, most o' ya love me! The ones who don't, I probably owe money to!" Cue another healthy round of laughter. "Most call me noisy, most call me cheeky! Just s'long as you remember to call me-,"

"Mister Grogan~ ."

The crow, along with several in the audience, jumped when a lilting tone interrupted him. But where others anticipated the worst, the crow's beak was pulling into an eager grin. It grew even bigger when he turned to face the one that addressed him.

"Well~!" He dumped the money into his coat pocket before patting his clothes down in an effort to look presentable, holding his fedora against his heart as he approached her. "Salt my tail feathers! Do mine eyes deceive me? Or are we in the presence of the il-lustrious Miss Rosie herself?"

Rosie tittered at the old bird's compliments while he kissed her offered hand. "I hope you're not implying that my looks are starting to fade, Mister Grogan."

Grogan made a dramatic show of offence. "Your looks? Fade? Perish the thought! If anything, I'd say you get prettier with every minute!"

Rosie tapped his shoulder in faux reprimand, scoffing. "You shameless flatterer."

He cackled. "Guilty as charged!"

"Among other things."

Grogan kept smiling, though his eyes did glaze over as he acknowledged the new speaker. "Mr. Franklin," he drawled. "Mighty rare to see you prowling about." He looked the feline up and down. "New stripes?"

"Now boys," Rosie tutted as Franklin let out a low growl. "Let's all behave in a civilized manner. We wouldn't want to set a bad example for everyone now, would we?"

The men held their mutual glaring contest until Grogan was drawn out of it by Rosie. "So what brings you to our humble little corner of Pentagram, Mister Grogan? It's been almost a month since we've seen you play with the local talent."

Grogan dusted off his fedora before placing it on his head. "Sorry for being all abstentious, dear Miss Rosie," Franklin's grumbling of 'it's absent, not abstentious you dullard' was blatantly ignored. "But I had some things to take care of over in another territory. That snake fella's weird little eggs were stinking up my business."

Miss Rosie gave a sympathetic nod. "Ah yes, Sir Pentious and his Egg Bois. They can be surprisingly bothersome at times."

Grogan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, when they ain't makin' regular stooges outta themselves. On the upside, dealin' with even a few of those Egg Bois can save you beaucoup dinero at the grocery store!"

"So that's what that smell is," muttered Franklin. By now the vultures had finished having small talk with their fans and were making their way towards them. One of them was pushing an upright wicker shopping trolley, which was not only emitting a distinct breakfasty aroma, but also had familiar scraps of black with yellow pinstripe poking out from under the lid.

Rosie had also figured out the trolley's contents. "I suppose this means you boys have a set meal plan this afternoon?"

Hudson, the lank, shaggy haired vulture that was pushing the trolley, nodded. "You guessed right, Miss Rosie." Digby, the most energetic member of their group, chimed in before his quiet friend could say more.

"Grogan managed to beat some of those eggos without breaking them!" The birds jumped when the trolley suddenly rattled, with only the buckled leather strap preventing what was inside it from escaping. Digby's brother, Chadwick, gave a hissed "Shush it!" and clapped on the lid, bringing the racket to a stop. Digby gave Rosie an apologetic smile. "Anyway, Grogan wanted to make up for his being gone by treating us all to a nice egg dinner."

Franklin wrinkled his nose as he withdrew a ruined cigar from his coat pocket. Throughout the conversation he'd been rolling the tobacco stick between his fingers and had inadvertently crushed it in reaction to the noise. Rosie's only response had been to quirk one of her slim eyebrows as she continued to smile. It was hardly the first time she'd witnessed something like this.

The last and shortest of the quartet, a bald middle-aged vulture named Malley, stepped forward with his derby in his hands. He scuffed a taloned foot. "We know it'd be awfully short notice, Miss Rosie, but do you think we'd be able to tempt you with a bite? We've got plenty eggs and other foodstuffs. We just needed the extra coin to buy the rest of our ingredients."

"Oooh," the demon woman cooed. She gave each of the bird Sinners an eagerly received pat on the head. "You boys are so sweet to make such an offer to little old me. But," she sighed, "I'm afraid I'll have to turn down your invitation for now." She looked to their de facto leader Grogan. "Perhaps next time?"

The crow swept his fedora off his head as he bowed down at the waist. "We'll be counting the moments until you grace us with your presence again."

Rosie hid a laugh behind her hand as the other birds mimicked Grogan's gesture, which only served to make Franklin grow more rankled by the display. He brought a pocket watch out of his vest pocket, not to check the time, but to gain their attention. He did so by opening the device, then closing it again with an audible snap.

"Well," he said, stuffing the timepiece away. "As much as I would hate to disband this lively get together." That was a lie; Franklin was already untucking his cane from the crook of his elbow. "I'm afraid we must be off. Places to go, people to see." He locked eyes with Grogan as he adjusted his gloves. "I'm sure you understand."

Rosie's smile had gone from toothy to close lipped. It wasn't uncommon for her to smile in that manner, but the birds were familiar enough with the woman to recognize her annoyance. She was too much of a lady to make a public spectacle of it. Her tone was cool as she spoke.

"Of course," her expression lightened as she returned her gaze to the flock. "It was so lovely to speak with you gentlemen again. We really should organize another potluck, Mister Grogan. I'm sure you have quite a few yarns to spin."

He nodded in agreement. "Enough to make a skein or two! Farewell, Miss Rosie!"

The birds all smiled and waved as the two business partners took their leave. One by one their eyes all shifted over to the large striped male ambling next to Rosie, and one by one their cheerful expressions melted into varied looks of displeasure. As they watched the pair vanish around a bend in the path, Digby, in a rare show of bile, spat on the sidewalk.

"I swear," he hissed, "the more I see 'im, the more I'm tempted to just gut that stupid tiger."

Hudson raised an unseen brow. "I thought he was a really big tabby?"

Digby fluttered his claw. "Whatever the Hell he 'sposed to be, that damned cat is always trying to shove his mitts and nose into everything! If he had it his way, their sign would read FRANKLIN'S Emporium instead of Franklin & Rosie's! Bad enough that he got top billing on it!"

Everything that Digby was saying wasn't wrong. It was no secret that Franklin was an ambitious man, and clearly years of having the word co precede the title of leader was starting to rub his fur the wrong way. Had Rosie been anyone other than, well, Rosie, life in their community would be very different.

Grogan let out a grunt when he felt something tap his side, looking to see Malley gesturing to his pocket. Knowing what he was after, the crow held the lower part of his coat away from his body while grasping the flap of the pocket open with his claws as the shorter bird rifled through it.

"She's a steel blade wrapped in satin, she is," soothed Malley, handing his upturned derby to Chadwick as he withdrew their earnings. "A woman like Miss Rosie doesn't last as long as she did by being a wilting violet."

Hudson leaned past Digby to peek at the smaller vulture. "Was that meant to be a flower joke?"

Malley paused at separating the bills from the coins. "I don't think so?"

"Digs has a point, though," spoke up Chadwick. "Franklin's been getting pushier about how things are done in the Colony."

Grogan, who'd been unusually quiet during all the chatter, spoke calmly to his friends. "Like Malley said, Miss Rosie's tougher than she looks. She can handle that big lump."

"And what if she can't?"

The crow took a deep breath as he straightened his coat. "You mark my words: sooner or later, that cat's nine lives are gonna run out. That's when we act, boys. That's when we act." As he adjusted his sleeves, Grogan flicked one of his claws to bring out a dense roll of cash he'd been hiding. "Welp, we better get to hustlin' if we wanna eat before midnight."

The younger birds all gaped as he passed the roll over to Malley for counting.

"Oh, you sneaky feather duster!" Snickered Digby. "You got that from Franklin, didn't you?"

A haughty sniff. "Just thought I'd help him apologize for being so rude to us."

Malley raised an eyebrow as he shuffled the bills. "With all of his pocket change?"

That made the crow blink. "Ah. That reminds me."

Without warning Grogan reached towards Hudson and mussed his shaggy hair, making the quiet bird squawk in surprise as shiny objects fell from his head and tinkled against the ground. Curious, Chadwick and Digby kneeled to inspect them. Scattered at their feet were silver Pride dollars, stamped with a large pentagram on one side and Lucifer's profile on the other, all reflective and shiny as if they came straight from the mint.

Clearly something else that had been liberated from Franklin's pocket.

The birds laughed as they gathered up the coins and tossed them in with the rest of the money.

"C'mon, boys!" Rallied Grogan, falling in step with the vultures as they filed towards the nearest exit. "We made us a killin' today, so before we restock our poor spice cabinet, what's say we celebrate our comradery by picking up some fresh, outta the oven pies from Lovett's Bakery?"

The mere thought of having such a treat had them all drooling. Chadwick gave an excited tug on Grogan's sleeve. "Sweet or savory ones?"

"What the heck, let's get both! It's on ol' Franklin's dime!"

۞Ω۞

Franklin grumbled as he pulled out an intact cigar and some matches. "Honestly Rosie," he huffed, fumbling to withdraw a single match from the cardboard folder. "I don't know why you associate with such riffraff."

By now the pair had already left the park grounds and were in the Colony proper, strolling idly down the pavement. Sinners and Hellborne Demons alike that frequented or lived in the area were going about their business working, shopping, or, like them, wander around outside to get their daily exercise and be around people for a few minutes.

Well, at least Rosie was doing it for those last two reasons. Franklin was out of the office only because she'd needled him into it.

Rosie offered a smile and a wave to every demon that hailed the duo. Her reply was calm but no less pointed as she staunchly avoided eye contact with him. "That riffraff, as you call them, are members of our community. Our home would be a veritable pigsty without their hard work."

"The vultures yes, but Grogan's a noisy tramp that sleeps on their couch whenever he passes through. He's not even a proper cannibal."

"He always pays them back for boarding him. And do the Egg Bois not talk, think, and feel?"

"As much as their flimsy shelled heads will permit, yes."

"Then it still counts. He wouldn't be the first in our ranks to be picky about his food." She gave him a side eyed look as they reached a crosswalk. "And let's not forget that you weren't exactly an adventurous eater when you first migrated here."

Though you'd never guess from the look of him, she thought.

A grunt and the sound of him striking the match along the brick wall was his only response. She squinted her eyes when the scent of his cigar reached her nose. Hopefully their office floor will be aired out by the time they make it back to the Emporium. They reached the edge of the sidewalk just in time for the antiquated signal to flip the no crossing flag. Neither flinched at the sight of a roundabout car zipping right in front of them with three dog Sinners on unicycles in hot pursuit, barking up a storm as a dainty female dog flailed like a silver screen damsel for them to rescue her from the pale green mongrel that drove the vehicle.

The signal flipped again, and Franklin picked up the conversation again as they moved across the street.

"All I'm trying to say Rosie is that we need to be more discerning about the people we let in our territory."

"We already do that, Franklin. Anymore and our people will turn on each other to feed."

"I'm talking about the parties who bring nothing useful to the Colony." He pushed. "The troublemakers."

She tilted her face to give him an unimpressed look with her eyes. "And whom exactly might you be referring to?" She said coolly, though she already had an idea who he meant. And it wasn't just Grogan and the vultures.

SLAM!

Down the block and straight ahead of them, a demon was bodily expelled from a store. They watched as the demon skipped across the street like a rock flung over water, bouncing down an alleyway where the end of his flight was signaled by the crash of refuse bins, followed by his moans of pain. Two pairs of eyes followed the direction he'd come from just in time to see the door of the shop swing close.

"Well, him, for one."

۞Ω۞

"Do you-,"

CLANG!

"-have any-,"

SMASH!

"-idea-,"

SHATTER!

"-HOW LONG IT'LL TAKE ME TO CLEAN THIS MESS UP?!"

With the Keystone reset, the protection wards for Dashiell's building snapped back into proper working order about two minutes into the fray, pelting the aggressive Sinners with low level defensive spells. While the group was initially baffled over what was happening to them, they'd been no less determined to get even with the bat demon and his newfound comrade. Unfortunately, their mulish spirits ended up working against them. Each magical blow, which they were unable to detect, kept them off balance and made it easy for their would-be victims to get the upper hand.

The battle was not without repercussions, however. Dashiell and the bat were unharmed, but their attackers' refusal to stay down resulted in a lot of collateral damage. Naturally this made the long-eared peddler very angry at them, both for their stubbornness and for the havoc they were inflicting upon his shop. His own attacks grew more heated, sometimes resulting in even more damage and thus riling his temper even further. By now the bat demon's participation in the fight had been rendered moot. The pair he'd been fighting were literally down and out, one knocked unconscious whereas the other had been magically hurled out of the door, so all he could really do was stand aside and watch as the irate jackrabbit unleashed his fury.

"Oh, who the Hell am I kidding?!" Dashiell raved, clubbing his opponent with the piece of a broken display. "Of course, you don't care about that! All you're here to do is bully some hardworking Joe! Who was minding his own business! And wreck! His! Prop-er-ty!" The last word he stressed out with consecutive blows to a Sinner's back when he tried to get up.

The attacks were sloppy, and his temper was growing quite erratic, but the bat demon had to admit, it was a very impressive rant. Obviously, his stress had been accumulating for some time.

"Never mind the time and energy he'll waste cleaning everything up! Or the time he'll waste tallying the damages! And let's not forget all the ruined equipment and material he'll have to replace! OUT! OF! HIS! OWN! POCKET!"

The bat demon flattened his ears as Dashiell's voice grew in pitch. The cleaning and repairs could be easily done with the use of a few spells, but magic will do nothing to renew the quality of the products that had been spoiled. This meant dipping into the jackrabbit's inventory to replace what was meant to be sold by now, meaning he'd fall short on fresh supplies later.

"I wouldn't move from that spot, if I were you," he drawled, not taking his eyes off the one-sided beat down. There was a startled inhale from the Sinner that was sprawled out on the floor. He'd regained consciousness over a minute ago and had been trying to inch his way out of sight. Another round of crashes, thumps, and vitriolic yelling from Dashiell was enough to spook him into going still again.

"- like to see you try and drill it into some blitzed out stoner's head that, 'Yes, this is an herb shop, butthat does not make us a marijuana dispensary'!"

Right as the bat decided that was his cue to step in, the clear and subtle Ting! of the overhead bell made him snap his gaze to the entrance. Dashiell, too caught up in his tirade to fully register the sound, kept bashing away.

"And do not get me started on those snake oil peddling – Heek!"

Hearing Dashiell's choked squeak when he saw the new arrivals put the bat even further on edge. First through the door was a hefty feline wearing an old-fashioned suit and top hat, who then stepped aside to hold it open for the slender grey female trailing after him. The door was then pressed shut, and the…tiger? Tomcat? - stood right beside the long-necked woman as they calmly surveyed the battle-damaged room.

"Miss Rosie!" Gone was the Dashiell who'd kicked like a mule, swore like a mariner, and clubbed demons about the head in defense of their lives and his building. Now he had the look of a teenager that had been caught doing something foolish. He straightened his posture and quickly hid the improvised weapon behind his back, smiling widely in an attempt at saving face. Too bad the effect was ruined with the top of the club peeking out from behind his shoulder, his messed-up clothing, and how his smile was more of a twitchy grimace. All while he was standing on the back of the large Sinner he was braining into submission when they came in. "Mr. Franklin! W-what a surprise to see you both! Here! In my shop! On today of all days!"

He gave a betrayed look when the bat dismissed his mentally telegraphed plea: 'My mouth keeps talking. Shut me up!'

"Dear me, what a mess!" Gasped Miss Rosie. There was genuine concern laced in her voice, but other than that the woman seemed to be amused by the rowdy display. "You appear to be having a bad day, Mr. Dashiell."

As the jackrabbit opened his mouth to reply, a light fixture that had been knocked loose in the conflict gave a mute creak before it dropped to the floor, popping the bulbs and the lamps. The noise made the three animal-like Sinners all wince while Rosie briefly clenched her parasol. He cleared his throat. "I will admit, the past," he snuck a glance at the analog wall clock, "10 minutes have not been ideal."

"Indeed," she hummed, looking over the wreckage. "Are you having anymore…problems?" She asked pointedly, her gaze landing on the still vertical bat demon. This also brought him under Franklin's scrutiny.

The bat tensed his spine but kept his limbs loose. The feline may be the most physically imposing individual here, but he didn't miss the way Dashiell showed more deference toward the woman. In terms of power, she was the much bigger threat.

"No no!" Dashiell leapt off the Sinner's back as he tried to clear the air. "That one's no problem at all! In fact, he helped me to fight these jokers off! He's aces!"

A grunt from Franklin. "Aces, huh?"

"Yessiree!" He threw his arm around the dour chiropteran's shoulder as if to emphasize his claim of friendliness. If his very existence weren't on the line the bat would have hexed him for invading his space. "Meet my new business partner!"

"Really?"

Both demons had spoken in unison. Franklin, for the first time, managed to not sound bored or surly, while Rosie was positively giddy.

"He's your new partner?" Franklin gave the bat a suspicious once over.

"Oh Dashiell! Do you mean it?" Rosie let go of her parasol to press her hands together in excitement. Instead of falling over, the parasol remained upright, twirled around, then disappeared into thin air. She gave a happy little clap. "Oh, this is so exciting! Things just haven't been the same for you after Hattrick went away."

She gracefully sidestepped the mess and stood before the duo, staring directly at the on-alert bat. "Hello! Welcome to The Cannibal Colony! My name is Rosie, and that is my business associate, Mr. Franklin. Who might you be?"

A much weaker man would have quailed at being caught in the woman's laser like gaze, no matter how friendly she was being at that moment. Luckily, the bat was an old hand at dealing with intimidating people.

"Linnaeus." He said in a calm, well-practiced tone. "I go by Linnaeus."

Her eyes narrowed playfully at his answer. "After the zoologist who studied the carnivorous Spectral Bats found in the Central and Southern Americas. Also known by some as the False Vampire Bats." That part she said with noted humor at his slight gothic look. "My, my! Such an educated gentleman~ . Wouldn't you agree, Franklin?"

No answer.

She turned her head. "Franklin?"

At some point Franklin's attention had strayed during Rosie's inquiry and moved himself closer to the downed Sinner that was nearest to him, the very same one Dashiell had been standing on only a moment ago. He stared down at the unconscious demon, not moving except for the sway of his tail, a twitch of his nose and whiskers, and the rhythm of his chest as he inhaled. His mouth was open slightly and his breath was coming out in low huffs, his yellow irises blown so wide that the green of his eyes couldn't be seen, making him look as though he'd been drugged.

Dashiell, the first one to notice Franklin's shift in behavior, had moved himself so that he was hiding behind Linnaeus and Rosie, his ears drawn flat against his back and his own pupils shrunk as he peered between the bodies to watch the massive feline. Signs of anxious prey trying to avoid being noticed by a hungry predator.

Rosie gave a light scoff at this.

"Franklin dear, wipe your chin. You're salivating."

Franklin blinked, snapping out of whatever trance he was in. He grumbled a low apology as he took a kerchief from his pocket to wipe his face.

She brought her attention back to the other two demons. "Please excuse Franklin. We've yet to eat and he has low blood sugar."

The pair only nodded at her explanation.

Rosie then moved past them. "Well, no sense putting it off." She said as she went into Dashiell's station behind the counter. "I'll give the Neighborhood Cleaners a ring and have them tidy things up for you."

Dashiell rushed to discourage her. "Ah, really Miss," he wheedled as she turned the dial on the old candlestick phone. "There's no need for you to do that. And anyway, a full job from the Cleaners cost so much money."

"Which is why I'll pay for it." That made Franklin choke. "Think of it as a gift to celebrate your new business partnership."

"Really, it's no bother! We're fine cleaning this up."

"Nonsense." She perked up as she held the receiver piece to her ear. "Hello? Directory assistance?"

Franklin regained his breath. "Come now, Rosie," he coughed. "Leave the gentlemen to their business. We don't want to be pushy. Or waste the money...," he muttered lowly.

"It's the neighborly thing to do, Franklin." She said firmly, covering the phone's mouthpiece as she addressed him. "And anyway, it's not your-"

!

A great bell rang somewhere in the distance. Linnaeus's balance wavered, just for a moment, before he managed to flatten his ears tightly against his skull. He watched through pinched eyes as the other demons all froze in place at the sound.

Franklin was almost bursting out of his clothes as his fur bristled under the fabric, his cane creaking with the strain of his tightened grip as his exposed claws tore open the fingers of his gloves. "Is that…?"

Dashiell had collapsed against the counter; his own ears plank stiff against his back, eyes wide as he gave everyone a frantic look. "No, n-no. It can't be." He said desperately.

Even the Sinner that Linnaeus had caught playing dead on the floor had dropped the ruse to arch his back and stare up at the ceiling in a wild panic, chanting "Oh God oh God oh God," over and over in a small, weak voice.

And Rosie. Rosie wasn't smiling.

When she spoke between the tolls, her quiet murmur was heard, clear as a teacup shattering.

"Hell's Bells."

Total number of References/Easter Eggs in Chapter 2: 8 (including chapter title)

Hope you found this chapter worth the wait and that you have fun racking your brains with the Easter Eggs/References.

😱shoves face into pillow and screams for a minute😱

I was THIS close to being done with this chapter all the way back in September, when several things happened to prevent me from staying on the computer long enough to do so. When it all calmed down, I was able to write out some words when it hit me: that dreaded feeling where you can almost hear your initial thought process gurgling down the drain as it leaves your mind blank: WRITER'S BLOCK😖

Didn't get back into a writing frame of mind until a few days ago.

Anyway, we finally learn the bat demon's (new) name, get some insight about Hell (or at least how things work in this version of the Cannibal Colony), and we meet some new characters! Including Rosie and my take on her business partner, Franklin!

Also, my first attempt at written violence (ZERO PLANS on going R rated in regard to that, so fellow squeamish people can breathe a sigh of relief).