Author's Note:
Absolutely nothing about this character ending up in the hotel makes sense, nor is it really supposed to. I fell in love with him in Helluva Boss' second episode, and he is here purely because I want him to be. I make no excuse nor real attempt to make sense of it, I just want him in my story. That is all.
Chapter 17
Robo Clown: Operational
"A… Robot?" Charlie asked, watching Angel eye the box up and down excitedly.
"Not just any bot," he said mischievously. "Fuckin' Robo Fizz companion! Or at least somethin' like it, anyways."
"What is that, exactly?" Alastor asked, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. Anything that Angel made such a suggestive face about was sure to be inappropriate and crass.
"Well, Robo Fizz is a robot clown. Usually works in the otha rings. Comes up here sometimes. There's a few of 'em, but they've been outta production for a long time. They're really popular prostitutes, too. Honestly, I think they're willing to do more than me! Got some kinky pics on Voxtagram of these guys. If he didn't find 'em freaky as fuck, Val'd probably love ta have one. Big V's not a fan o' clowns."
Charlie looked downright afraid. "Why-" she started, unable to find the words to the question that was fizzing in her brain. "Who would…"
Eliza had been standing on the mezzanine until a few moments prior, looking down at everyone. They looked so confused, standing around a box. Alastor was there as well, so she felt hesitant to go down, but her curiosity wouldn't let it rest. She wanted to see what had everyone so befuddled.
"Is everything alright?" she asked as she approached the group. Angel looked at her for a moment before a mischievous grin spread across his face.
"Hey!" he called, waving a piece of paper around that was folded in half. "Read this out loud, would ya?" He held it out for her, and she took it carefully before opening it.
"Full-sized Robot Fizzarolli 2.0," she said, saying the name slowly because she wasn't sure if she was pronouncing it properly. Charlie's eyes widened when she heard the full name, as it was the name of the clown she actually knew of. Someone made a robot version of him? "A new mechanical servant here to serve your every need. Has all the features of the original Robo-Fizz Companion model, which are as follows." She read on in silence, her eyes widening and, to everyone's surprise, her cheeks rising as if she suppressed a laugh. "Gives and Receives, Real Tentacle Action…" She cleared her throat, convulsing slightly as she fought the laugh threatening to escape. "Ribbed for Your Pleasure... Sweet mercy!" She couldn't hold it anymore, and started laughing uncontrollably. "Ten… Speed Vibration!" She lost it. "Oh, this is glorious!"
Everyone stared at her, especially Angel. "You seriously like that sort of thing?" His eyes glistened. He had no idea she liked perverted humor. She always kept her reactions to his own jokes low-key.
"BDSM Features!" she squeaked, trying desperately to finish. "And… Machine washable! Oh, that's nice!"
Now Angel keeled over at her matter-of-fact reaction to the last feature. "How did I never see it before?!" he hissed as his sides convulsed in silent laughter. Charlie and Vaggie looked absolutely mortified, as did Alastor, though his confusion was peaked by Eliza's reaction to it all. She always giggled at Angel's jokes, and even enjoyed some of Alastor's puns and dad jokes on occasion, but this was another level of laughter.
Now that Eliza had her breathing back under control, she continued. "However, this robot is designed with full-fledged service in mind. Great for entertainment purposes, but can also be put to work around the house. Has multiple language features for your convenience, just press and hold the reset button located in…" She snorted. "In the robot's rectum. Of course it is!"
"Who the fuck brought this here?!" Vaggie demanded, whipping out her spear.
"Don't look at me!" Alastor said defensively. "This is not my idea of good humor!"
Vaggie turned to Angel, who shrugged. "I didn't even know they made these anymore."
"They don't," Eliza said, reading further. "It's a prototype. I think it's original owner forwarded it to us, because it says that it's for someone named Blitzo."
"Isn't that the imp who assassinates people in the living world?" Angel asked.
"Yup, that's him," Husk confirmed. "Got drunk and watched some shit TV channel one time. They played an ad on there for three straight fuckin' hours. I was so wasted I actually sat and watched it the whole. Fucking. Time. I still get that damn jingle stuck in my head sometimes."
"But…" Charlie's brain was still trying to wrap itself around the information being presented to her. "Why would he send it here?"
"Maybe he didn't want it," Alastor suggested, looking at the box with a disdainful glare. "Might I recommend burning it?"
"Fine by me," Vaggie shrugged.
"But if it was given to us," Charlie argued, walking up to the box, "then maybe we should give it a try?"
"No!" Vaggie jumped, getting between Charlie and the offending object. "This is not going to help us at all! You heard Eliza; it's a toy for sexual perversion!"
"I'll keep it." Everyone looked at Eliza. "Personally, I have no use for the sex features, but I want to see what else it can do. Besides, the hotel could use the extra help. If it turns out to not be worth keeping, I'll see that it's returned with an honest review."
"I must insist against this," Alastor interjected. "We are trying to have people take this business seriously. To have something so highly inappropriate-"
"If it's not worth keeping," she repeated, her tone dripping with annoyance, "then I'll return it." Alastor recoiled at her tone, his lip pulling back into a snarl.
"I'm surprised, Smiles," Angel teased. "I figured you'd like havin' it around. After all, ain't ya here to watch people fail? Lotta people gonna try out a Robo-Fizz, and trust me, none o' them are gettin' redeemed any time soon."
Alastor glared at him. "I already tolerate the presence of one sexual deviant, I dread the idea of another." In truth, he also greatly opposed the idea of Eliza being the one to take personal ownership of this disgusting gift. The idea of her taking an interest in something like this bothered him immensely, even if she claimed disinterest in it's more perverted purposes.
"We'll see what comes of it!" Charlie decided, nodding at Eliza. "We'll give this, um… robo-servant a try!"
And with that, the therapist and the hotel owner opened the box, anxious to see this strange gift for themselves. When they finally opened everything, the strange robot was laying in a box like a body in a coffin. Charlie was a bit creeped out, but Eliza seemed to like the look of it. It's face was white with black circles on its cheeks and a black diamond on its forehead with a white heart in the middle. Its head had two extensions resembling a jester's hat, both red and yellow on the bottom but different on the top. The left side was white and black, while the right was red and black. It's large, circular collar was yellow, black tassels coming off with bells at the ends. It's shoulders were the comedy-tragedy masks, leading to long yellow-black arms and clawed black hands. It's body was a red-black jester suit, the pants black with white stripes, and black pointed feet.
Eliza referred to the instructions once again and giggled.
"There's a finger-print reader to get it started," she informed her boss. "It's… beside the reset button."
"Who designed this thing?" Charlie asked, seriously disturbed.
"Big Ozzie's Factory," Eliza read aloud. Charlie blinked a couple times before face-palming.
"Ugh," Charlie groaned. That factory, located in the Lust Ring, was notorious for its problematic creations. She was honestly starting to wonder if this was a terrible idea after all.
Eliza flipped the robot over, surprised that it was so light, and put her index finger on the print reader. As soon as it registered the print, the lights came on and Fizzarolli sprang to life. "Wo-ho-ho!" he landed on his feet, but not very gracefully, as if he hadn't been properly calibrated yet. "N-nothing like 'b-b-bad touch' to jumpstart your life, eh?" His body seemed unnaturally flexible as he walked around, figuring out just what he was working with. "What's with these-ese limbs? I've seen wet noodles more stable!" His speech seemed somewhat glitchy. She wondered if that would work itself out as he continued booting up.
Eliza was giggling at his self-insulting start, very happy she decided to turn him on. He froze, turning his head to face her before his body followed suit, limbs evening out quickly.
"Well, hell-llo, sexy," he said, moving right into her bubble. "Name's Fizzarolli! My sensors say y-y-you turned me on. That right?"
"Yes, I did," she answered politely.
"Well, you gonna t-take me out to dinner first, or are you gonna skip to p-p-popping my cherry? I'd prefer the latter, if I get-et a say," he said, his grin dripping with mock innocence. He put a finger under her chin and put his chest up to hers, earning a feral snarl from one of the people gathered around, though he didn't care to find out what jealous fucker was getting butt-hurt at the moment.
"No, Fizz," she said sweetly, removing his hand from her person. "You're here to work for the hotel."
"Oh, so I'm a shared experience? A-a-all the better!" He looked around at the others, his grin something that made Alastor's lip curl in disgust. "I'd say I should get to know them first, b-but surprises are always better!"
"No sex, Fizz," Eliza ordered. A small sound emanated from the robot, as if the command was processing. She wondered briefly if he was capable of violating a command. Something to keep in mind.
"A-a-aw, no fun!" he tsked. "All work and no-o play? Such a task-master!" He leaned in again. "I think my BDSM feature would suit you n-n-nicely. I look great tied to the bed, I assure you!"
Eliza was unable to hide how hard it was to maintain her composure. She was dying of laughter inside. "I have no interest in a non-living partner. Sorry, Fizz."
He made some strange, alarm-like noises. "Oh-oh-oh, so cold! Maybe it's good I d-d-don't stick anything in there! M-might come out with frostbite!" Eliza couldn't stop herself from giggling. This was way better than she expected. "Ooo, someone who c-c-can take a joke! I knew I li-i-iked you!"
"Fizz," she said, returning to a commanding tone. "Can you fix your speaking glitch?"
"L-l-lemme check," he said, and his eyes went blank for a moment.
While Fizz was rebooting, Alastor seriously contemplated having him torn apart by eldritch tentacles. This robot was going to drive him up a wall, and every sexual advance he made towards Eliza made him want to shove the metal clown in a trash compactor. He somehow made Angel seem far more tolerable. He would have to apologize to the pink spider sometime, if he ever found the inclination to do so.
The robot's eyes refocused. "Alright, speech problem fixed. Now tell me; what do ya need? I specialize in entertainment, but am also capable of general housework and menial labor. Don't expect me to be a quiet worker, though; I love to talk."
"That's not a problem," Eliza agreed, happily.
"Then I guess we need to figure out where you'll fit," Vaggie mused quietly, thinking about what jobs he could do. Fizz, however, was apparently not one to let a joke pass by.
"I can fit anywhere you want me, little girl," he said, suggestively. "I can even be gentle about it, if you ask nicely!" She blushed profusely, glaring daggers, and he laughed maniacally, joined by a very amused Angel Dust.
"That was uncool," Charlie reprimanded, folding her arms.
"Oo-oo-oo, jealous I'm not giving you enough attention?" he teased. "I assure you, there's plenty of me to go around. Though I'm not against a good brawl for my affection. I love flattery."
Charlie was starting to feel some serious regrets about this decision.
"I think," Vaggie interrupted, her eyebrow twitching from her restraint, "that you'd do best helping with cleaning, and serving food in the-"
"Nu-uh-uh!" he said, putting a finger to the moth demoness' lips. "I'm all for talking shop, but at the end of the day, the one who turns me on calls the shots, lady. Gotta get permission from her-" he pointed at Eliza, "-before bossing me around."
"She's my boss," Eliza reprimanded lightly. "She has permission by default."
"Not unless you say so, sweetheart," he argued. "But now that you have…" He turned back to Vaggie with a smug smile plastered across his face. "Continue."
Vaggie looked murderous as she gave him his starting orders. He would be serving food in the dining room so Niffty didn't have to cook and serve, and he would clean the rooms on the even floors, while Niffty took care of the odd-numbered ones. It still left her with three floors compared to Fizz's two, but it was still a significant load taken off of her tiny shoulders.
Angel, now able to get a word in, tried to ask if Fizz would like to test some of his more provocative features. Fizz then reminded him of Eliza's 'no sex' order, and the spider begged her to take it back. When she refused, he looked absolutely defeated and moped a bit before remembering that he and Husk were about to do some shots before all this happened. That gave him a spring in his step again.
However, both Alastor and Fizz seemed to share a feeling of animosity for each other from the start. Both grinned endlessly, but whenever their eyes locked, it was a staredown until someone intervened. Everyone understood Alastor's reaction, as he was a gentleman from the 20's who despised such vile and perverse behavior, but Fizz seemed to sense something in the Radio Demon that made him want to poke and prod the man relentlessly.
"Oh, come on Red," he said, leaning his face close to Alastor's with a manic, toothy grin, "all these lovely ladies and none of them get the time of day? If it's performance anxiety, I can give pointers." Angel, who was three shots in, snorted like a rube.
"I have no interest in such things," he growled.
"Why? Can't rise to the occasion?"
Eliza stifled a laugh, watching Fizz to make sure he did his duties properly. She had decided to monitor him for a time, but his jokes made it hard for her to focus.
Alastor's radio signal was going haywire, not at all happy about her being amused at his expense, but he pulled back, deciding to take a different approach. "You're one to talk; from the look of you, all your appendages are limp." The muffled laughter grew in the background, and Fizz's robotic green eyes seemed to twinkle maliciously.
"Ooo, did I touch a nerve?" he taunted, not removing himself from the Radio Demon's personal space.
"Hardly," Alastor said, his tone dangerously low. "If you truly angered me, I'd make sure you rust in peace."
Eliza, though still deeply amused, groaned slightly as Alastor shifted to puns. Still, she couldn't deny it was funny.
"Oh-ho-ho, a punny boy? Ooo, this will be fun!" As the tension became palpable, Eliza clapped her hands together loudly. Both man and robot turned to look at her.
"That's enough, boys," she said, sweetly. "Back to work, Fizz. Alastor, please go pester someone else."
Fizz gave a showman's bow. "As you command." He gave Alastor a side-long, gloating stare. "My lady." He said it with such emphasis that the Radio Demon cocked an eyebrow. Was the robot marking his territory with that statement? He decided not to honor him with a reaction this time, walking away nonchalantly, but the temptation to pull the jester apart piece by piece remained.
Even so, he wished to speak with Eliza, and so when the woman retreated to her room to work, he decided to follow a little distance behind.
When he knocked on her door, he heard a sigh on the other side. "May I come in, my dear?"
"Why?" She opened the door, looking very disinterested in his company. "What do you want?"
"No need to be so touchy," he teased. "You told me to pester someone else. You never said it couldn't be you."
She looked him over with an expression that was, admittedly, quite hard to read. "Touché," she conceded, letting him in.
As Eliza closed the door, Alastor set his microphone against the wall and turned to face her. "I wished to speak to you about how you've been avoiding me lately. Care to explain why?"
She searched his face for a moment before stating, "I get the feeling you know why."
"Humor me?" he asked, sitting down in a chair. He crossed his legs and leaned on his left arm, resting his chin on his knuckles. He looked disinclined to leave any time soon, so she sighed and moved over to the kitchenette to start heating up some water.
"Would you like some tea?" she asked.
"No, thank you," he declined. "I'm afraid I simply detest the stuff. By chance do you have coffee? I do enjoy a good dark roast!"
She shouldn't have been surprised. She discovered early on that he seemed to enjoy bitter flavors. "I'm afraid not."
There was an awkward silence for a moment, during which Alastor pretended to remove some bit of fluff from his red pinstripe suit.
"I never see you wear anything else," she commented. "Do you have more than one of that suit?"
"Nope, just the one," he answered nonchalantly. "I take good care of the things I like."
Another span of silence, this time broken by Alastor. "Where is your crow? I've not seen him in the hotel much."
"He doesn't like to remain inside," she informed him. "He comes to my window regularly in the morning and before bed. If I go somewhere, he'll come down to me and keep me company."
"Ah," he said with a nod. He decided he didn't want to suffer through a third span of awkward silence. "You still haven't answered my question. Why have you been avoiding me?"
She poured the hot water into a cup and dropped a teabag in. "I… have been unsure how to speak with you since our last conversation. There are certain double standards you exhibit that have bothered me, lately."
"Oh?" he asked, watching her sit on the couch with genuine interest. "Such as?"
"First of all; your invasion of personal space." She stirred her tea with a finger, surprised by how heat-resistant she's become. Steam billowed lazily from the water's surface, and if she had still been a normal human, it would certainly burn. "You are more than willing to touch others, but don't like to be touched. Other than Husk shoving you off of him on occasion, everyone else risks the loss of a limb."
"I have no interest in allowing someone to touch me just for their own comfort," he purred, his tone carrying a hint of warning. "So, pray tell, what would you have me do, hmm?"
"Keep your hands to yourself," she commanded. "If I can not touch you, than you can not touch me. Does that sound reasonable?"
He studied her for a moment. "That is not usually the request people make of me. Tell me; why not request the right to touch me? Would that not have the same desired effect: Drive me to keep away while giving you the right to reciprocate if I break your rule?"
The light blush that darkened her pale cheeks was incredibly gratifying. "What? Of course not! You've made it painfully clear that you hate to be touched. Why would I..!" She shook her head to clear the rising heat in her face. "Sweet mercy, Alastor, give me some credit! That would be incredibly rude."
Unable to suppress a chuckle, he found her almost child-like honesty strangely endearing. "Come to think of it," he purred, enjoying her discomfort, "you don't really touch anyone, do you? You'll shake hands, or even kiss cheeks, but I have never seen you touch another person otherwise. Only that little bird of yours."
"I do not like to touch other people," she answered simply. "Shaking hands and other such greetings are a matter of propriety. It would have been rude of me to refuse. I shook your hand when we met, but I have not touched you since. While I don't expect other people to share my opinion on touching, in your case I feel the need to set up that boundary."
"What is your opinion on it, my dear?"
She looked at her hand for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "I view it as a very… intimate thing. Not something you share with just anyone."
Now that got his attention. "You enjoy the attention I give, then. That's why you want me to stop."
His smug aura was met with a cold draft. "I tolerate your touch because I do not force my views on others, Alastor."
"But has it ever made you misinterpret my intentions?"
She smiled sweetly, making his smile twitch in irritation. Her ability to hide what she was really thinking grated on his nerves. "No, your invasion of everyone else's space made it clear you had no greater interest in me. You are the first person to ever kiss my knuckles, however, so that surprised me." When Alastor thought back to their first meeting, he didn't recall her looking at all surprised. Was she really capable of hiding a knee-jerk facial response?
That thought was troubling, but he found it immensely intriguing.
"Truly, men of the modern era have no class," he scoffed. "Then again, women seem less womanly than they did in my time, too. A woman can be strong without resorting to crass language and lewd behavior."
Then something clicked in Eliza's mind, and her smile widened into something more genuine. "Ah, so that's why!"
He cocked an eyebrow. "Why what?"
"I was wondering why you were so sweet when greeting me, but kept away from Lakavi." She took another sip of her tea. "You don't really see her as much of a woman, do you?"
He balked at the idea. "She's as much a woman as I am a saint."
Eliza put down her tea-cup as she held in a laugh. "Now there's a cruel comparison."
"Do you disagree?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she met his gaze. "I can not talk about my clients, Alastor. That includes any of my opinions of their character."
"You are no fun sometimes," he reprimanded in an amused tone. Then, ready to shift topics, he summoned a particular sheet of paper that made her narrow her eyes in suspicion. "After you left a few nights ago, I decided to take another look at your writing. Are you still interested in my thoughts on the matter?"
During their moment of silence, Alastor took yet another look at the writing, holding his monocle in a fashion similar to a school-teacher reading his student's essay. As he waited for her response, his inner radio played a generic, jazzy tune to which he hummed along.
Feeling utterly exasperated with the man, she sighed. "Very well. What do you think of it?"
His grin broadened as her curiosity won the battle for him. "While you like to show off how well you read others, you really do have a fondness for simplicity. You prefer a touch of practicality over artistry, and you sacrifice speed and flair in the name of making sure everyone understands what you're trying to say."
Much to his satisfaction, her mask slowly dropped away as he spoke, replaced with an expression of intrigue. "Do you study other's writing often?"
"One's writing can be very telling," he answered vaguely. "A lot can be learned about a person through such study. Harsh lines, soft loops, whether the letters connect or stutter… There is much to gain from reading a letter or essay."
A very curious spark flashed through her eyes, and he felt her circling the bait. "How long have you been studying that paper?"
He felt a twinge of embarrassment at the insinuation behind her question, but answered calmly regardless. "When you left, I studied it in the hopes I would understand why you walked away. I was looking forward to some company for the evening. Hell knows how hard good company can be to find!"
Feeling somewhat guilty, she cleared her throat, covering her mouth and cheeks to hide her blush. "I'm… honestly surprised you cared," she stated, bluntly.
"My offer still stands, you know. With the promise of conversations, I'd be more than happy to help you with your writing dilemma." He looked over at her, his expression difficult for her to read. "Are you interested?"
"I… will think on it." She didn't mean to settle for an inconclusive answer, but his attention seemed so very strange to her. However, instead of focusing on the uncomfortable topic, she decided to shift gears to a question that itched in the back of her mind since earlier that day, when her session with Angel Dust ended. "Why are you here, Alastor? Are you really just looking for entertainment?"
He smiled mischievously. "I most certainly am! I look forward to monitoring our guests; watching their every stumble! I long to see them not only fall, but to bury themselves in vice. I want to see them taste success; the bitterness of failure is at its best when a soul has something to lose."
"What do you have to lose?"
A quiet, mad laughter could be heard in the background; it sounded like his voice, but so much deeper and dripping with such malice that she had to hide another blush. "Nothing."
Author's Note:
I wanted to start off with a speaking glitch because I actually enjoyed it in the show, but I had his speech glitch fixed pretty early because it's a pain in the ass to write, let alone read. You're welcome.
So welcome, Robot Fizzarolli 2.0. There's no greater reason for you to be here than my enjoyment of your existence.
