Flashback

Angel left the dingy apartment building. These last johns had been rather stingy, insisting that he was over charging them for his time, and haggling on how to lower his pay rate. What they had actually wanted was for him to entertain them for free. It was when he informed them that he was leaving that they agreed to half rate. So essentially, they both got a two for one deal. It wasn't like he could say no, a job was a job, and he was doing the freelance route until he was able to secure a new manager or a lover who was willing to go steady with him…at least for a time.

He had stopped looking for relationships with other men, there were just too many who were only interested in him for the one thing he could offer. If they wanted him at all it was to use him as a means to gain money, or just so they could fuck him themselves. Eventually they would get bored and drop him for a newer toy. Occasionally there were people who would have a relationship with him, but once it started to become serious, they would chastise him for being a hoe. Telling him how disgusting he was, how he must really love being screwed by other people. Or worse accuse him of using his career choice as a means of making them look like fucking jokes which became excuses for rape and physical abuse. But what else could he do? He had turn to the sex trade as a means of getting away from Pops and the other members of his family who were already in Hell, performing at burlesque dance halls and cabarets that existed in Hell. Posing for pin up shoots or modeling sessions. Working at bars and bordellos that had call workers who performed certain forms of entertainment.

This wasn't always the most sustainable form of employment since hell did tend to adapt to newer trends from the living world. There had been numerous occasions he had coupled the skills he gained as part of the Mafia with his existence as a whore. Such as slipping an extra hundred out of a client's wallet while they are in a drunk and spent stupor. Or when serving as an escort playing up that he has a lukewarm intelligence level. This way his clients assume he wouldn't be paying any attention to their conversation and feel they can freely talk about stuff they wouldn't if they knew he was actually listening in. Stuff he could file away and use for his own advantage or slip to certain people in Hell for a fee. Still such tactics had to be used cautiously as it could be traced back if used to often.

Arriving at the Abandoned Hope suspension bridge that cut through the city eastern side to the more upscale side of the city. Angel turned and started walking down to warn path to a chain link fence. Pulling aside a plywood board that haphazardly covered a gaping hole cut into the metal links. He looked about him to be sure no one was seeing where he was headed. He wouldn't really get in trouble for being here since the authority systems only took notice if it was something that could cause serious problems for Hell. Still, he didn't want other demons to find where he had set up his lair and use that as a means to take advantage of him. Not seeing any threats, he moved further down the slope to a lip of ground that jutted out ten feet over the blood red waters of the Sanguine Channel. Moving aside a ratty old quilt that he had hung as a curtain he made his way to the den he had made for himself under the bridge.

Before him was a small place for a fire circle, a table like rock where a couple more sets of clothes rested, and an old mattress that reeked heavily of piss. The mattress was covered with a thin threadbare blanket with pillows that were stained and torn in places. Despite his body desiring food Angel just felt too tired to care. Sitting down on the mattress he pulled off the top he was wearing. Scratching at the fur on his chest he paused and pulled away something small but slightly solid. He couldn't see what it was in the sparse lighting cast into his hovel, but it didn't take him long to guess that it was likely a flea. While this space under the bridge did offer some shelter, it wasn't the most sanitary which made him a prime target for fleas and lice. He'd have to spend the morning combing through his fur to find the little buggers and tossing them into the river water below. Depending on how bad the infestation was, he may have to check if he had the funds for a bath house. Or perhaps there was an old tenement building that wasn't occupied but still had running water. Both would take care of the fleas; he certainly could remember the vinegar baths his grandmother would give him and his siblings when there were reported lice outbreaks at school. In any case it would be something that would have to be dealt with once it was light.

Laying down to sleep he slipped his hand under one of his pillows and grasped hold of a small metal shive. It was a comfort to have on hand if anyone did find his living area. He was just drifting off to sleep when he heard a scraping sound of the plywood board being moved and the jangle of the chain link as though someone had squeezed through the cut into the metal fence. He didn't move from where he lay, but his hand clutched around the shive. There was the sound of someone coming down the slope. The person, whoever they were, sniffed the air before making a noise of disgust. There was something familiar about the voice, but he couldn't place it. The quilt curtain was pulled aside allowing light from the city and the streetlamps from overhead to filter into the space.

He opened his eyes a crack but did nothing to suggest that he was awakened by the intrusion. Standing in the entryway just under the metal struts of the bridge was a dark figure. The person was small, about half Angel's height, but he carried himself as though he was prepared to cause violence if needed. He could tell the person was a spider demon of some sort. Angel continued to feign sleep, perhaps whoever this demon was would conclude there was nothing here that was worth his time. The slowly approaching footsteps told him the person had decided to take his chances.

The unknown paused as he heard Angel give a feral sounding growl. The white-furred spider withdrew the shiv from under his pillow as he rose to his full height and rushed at the intruder. He lashed out with the ruff looking handmade knife. He didn't want to intentionally stab his attacker -not that it would kill them if he did-, but he did want them to see that he wasn't easy prey.

"Anthony," The figure said. Angel ignored it as he forced the unknown spider towards the cliff side that jutted over the river. If he fell into the water and was swept away more the better, he could be someone else's problem. The figure dove out of the way of an attempted strike. Angel lost his balance attempting to pivot after him and started to topple towards the cliff side. The shiv dropped from the hand holding it as he tried to find purchase on something to stop him from going over the cliff. Two pairs of hands grabbed hold onto one of his and threw him backwards, so he was sprawled on the ground. Angel found both sets of arms pinned down by the demon's lower two sets of arms. Angel's third set of arms launched out and grabbed hold of the arms, pinning his main arms down. The figure ignored this as his main hands took a firm hold of Angel's face, so he was forced to look directly at him.

"Guardami, Anthony…" (Look at me, Anthony) The unknown spider demon said in Italian. His voice was a harsh rasp, a by-product of heavy drinking or smoking, if not actual damage to his throat during death. "Ricorda… (Remember...)" Angel continued to growl and thrash under the weight of the other demon. But then…the words, the voice of the person crouched over him began to click in his mind.

"Fra...Fratello (Bra…Brother)" Angel asked? His breathing started to calm as the adrenaline in his veins began to ease and he started to focus on the dark face with the eight hard red eyes above him.

"Sì, Fratellino… (Yes, little brother…)" The smaller spider demon said in Italian as he released Angel from where he had him pinned and stood up. Angel started to sit up himself only for his older brother started to guide him out from under the bridge. "Riposati, mi prenderò cura di te (Rest yourself, I'll take care of you)." Angel was too tired to protest as exhaustion took hold.

"Enzo," was the last thing he said as he drifted away.

Angel's eyes drifted open only to find himself in an unfamiliar room. He glanced about trying to make sense of where he was, the last thing he remembered is Charlie had summoned that doctor she had wanted to look at him. The locust demon had done some preliminary checks before Angel felt himself start to black out. The only difference is he was vaguely aware something was happening as he felt a wave of weakness pass over him, the doctor appeared to have noticed what was happening as well as he calmly asked Angel to lay down, then everything went black.

Glancing out the window he could see what looked like the cabin on the other side of the lake. So, he must have been moved here at some point after he lost consciousness. This only confirmed to him that he was still on the Morningstar Private estate, but it didn't offer much comfort. That's when he noticed the metal framed cot that rested on the other side of the room, and the familiar white hair of the person who rested on it. Had Vaggie stayed with him last night? Cherri certainly would have insisted on doing so and Charlie possibly would have wanted to remain close, but Vaggie of all people? She had made it more than clear that she didn't like him or trust him for whatever reason. Not that he gave her much reason to like him or trust him either. The female moth demon continued to sleep completely oblivious he had awakened.

While likely not advised Angel got up and looked for a way to leave the building. He didn't intend to go far, but he didn't want to be cooped up in a hospital room. That had happened far too much in his living existence for him to endure that in Hell too. After wandering the empty halls, he located a door that led to an outside deck. His stomach grumbled in displeasure as he stepped outside, particularly since he hadn't eaten that much the previous day. But right now, what he wanted more than anything was to have a smoke to calm his nerves. Instinctively reaching for the pocket he normally kept his cigarettes in he realized that he was wearing his night clothes which meant his cigarettes and lighter were back at the cabin.

"Ah…" The unexpected voice of Dr. Abaddon caused Angel to jump in surprise. "Sorry…I didn't mean to startle you. I just noticed you are awake earlier than expected." The Locust demon said calmingly. Angel said nothing in response but was still warry of the other demon. A flick of a lighter and the scent of tobacco did draw his attention. The locust demon took a drag of his cigarette holding the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds before letting it out. "I gather you want one of these," Abaddon asked as he shook out another cigarette out of the pack. The spider demon was hesitant but the need to have his nerves calmed by nicotine won out as he gratefully took the proffered stick of tobacco as well as a means to light it.

"Charlotte was quite worried about you," Abaddon stated after a moment of the two of demons just quietly smoking. Angel took an inhale on his cigarette before he spoke.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," The Spider responded.

"Yes," Abaddon admitted. "It is one of the ways she shows she cares."

"Do you think this hotel she's making has a chance," Angel asked? The question wasn't accusatory, but there was a need to hear an outside view towards the hotel. Someone who at least was familiar enough with Charlie to have more of an idea of who she was.

"I find the idea of her hotel to be questionable," Dr. Abaddon admitted after a momentary pause. "Though to give her viewpoint some credence, it is unnecessary and, in some ways, unusual for Heaven to sanction the slaughter of demons just to keep the population down. It is almost as though God is not in his Heaven any longer."

Angel was about to ask what the locust demon meant but frantic footsteps came rushing up as Vaggie appeared at the doorway to the deck."

"There you are," The female moth demon said. Her voice was half relieved and half irritated.

"It's alright Vagatha," Abaddon quelled any tirades. He was well aware that the princess's chosen consort had a volatile temper. But this was still a clinic, certain rules still needed to be followed. "I noticed Angel had woken up, so I thought I'd talk with him for a few minutes before I returned to work. Speaking of, I had best return to my office. There is a chef on the estate's premises and a menu in your room when you are ready for breakfast, Angel. Once you have eaten, I can give you another dose of benzodiazepine."

"You've reached the Happy Hotel," Husk grumbled over the phone. "Your source for your redemption needs. How may we be of service?" Charlie's face fell in disappointment at hearing the speech she had instructed the demon cat to say for any potential callers. Hearing it now, even if it had been delivered with a bright and cheerful voice just sounded forced and unnatural. That laughably bad commercial put out by that Imp group the "Immediate Murder Professionals" was more believable in comparison.

"Hello," Charlie responded. "Husk…"

"Oh…" Husk said, his tone shifting since he hadn't expected to hear from her. "How is your trip going?"

"Not so well," Charlie answered. She glanced out the window towards a building on the other side of the lake where the clinic and kitchens were stationed. While she understood Vaggie's reasons for being with Angel right now, she consciously wished the other girl was here with her for moral support. Despite having some breakthrough with Cherri's attitude problems that culminated in the two of them enjoying what Cherri referred to as "Chocolate Homicide Sundaes" as the two of them talked about Cherri's experiences in Hell. Charlie did feel out of place without Vaggie there with her. Even when the two of them did go to bed, Charlie felt herself reaching out to the empty place where Vaggie should have been. "How is the hotel?"

"It's alright," Husk said. "I've seen Valentino's limo drive past a few times to check if you guys were really gone. There have also been people from the News Studio wanting to know more on Angel's "supposed" retirement. I suspect we also may get some protesters wanting to storm the place. Alastor of course has his ways of dealing with them."

"Thank you for letting me know," Charlie said. "There have been some events up here as well. I don't really know how to explain them, but since you were alive around the same time Angel and Alastor were, maybe you could help."

"Uh," Husk responded. He wasn't used to someone asking him for his incite or assistance on things. Normally he was left alone to drink his booze or gamble. That is unless Alastor summoned him to do some shit for him. "I don't know what I can do for you, Princess."

"Charlie," The blond girl said. "Please just call me, Charlie."

"Alright," Husk replied. "So, what kind of things are going on?"

"The night Angel didn't return from the studio," Charlie said. "I remember you said that the type of drug Angel likes to use was something you took when you were trying to run from something in your life."

"Yeah," Husk said. "Though Angel Dust wasn't really a recreational drug before the 1960's. It was originally intended to be an anesthetic."

"An…anesthetic" Charlie asked, trying to make sense of this?"

"Yeah, that shit given to you before you undergo surgery," Husk explained. "Though it wasn't brought to market until years after the kid was dead. If he was using anything up until the year, he died though…I doubt it was shit he names himself after."

"I see," Charlie said. "Angel went into withdrawal last night, there is a staffed clinic at the estate, so he is being cared for. Since he's been using drugs as a means to handle what Valentino and maybe others have been doing to him. Is there anything I should be aware of?"

"Well, uh…" Husk said as he racked his mind. "It largely depends on when he started using. If this drug was something he just started using in Hell, that's one thing. But if it was something he was doing before he died...that is something else."

"What do you mean,' Charlie asked? She sat down on the bed; she had a bad feeling that she wouldn't like what she was going to hear.

"Well, you are aware Leg's is gay right," Husk asked?

"Of course," Charlie said.

"In the time he is from," Husk sighed. "Being gay was seen as a mental illness."

"Wait…what," Charlie asked in horror as her eyes swiveled out of the windows of the cabin to the building across the lake that housed the clinic and estate kitchens.

"Yeah," Husk said. "It wasn't much better around the time I fell into Hell, and I'm sure that Cherri girl has other experiences she could tell you about. But in the early to mid-1900's being homosexual was seen as a crime that could get you arrested or killed. At best if it was known he was gay, the Spider would have been subjected to discrimination and persecution, at worst subjected to conversion therapy."

"What's…." Charlie asked uncomfortably. "What's conversion therapy?"

"Essentially," Husk said giving a pause as he tried how to explain it. "It's all crock methods of trying to correct people who fall under the LGBT spectrum to adhere to what were seen as society's standards. I couldn't tell you what was done, but it often did more harm than good."

Charlie's face paled at this Hell, various relationships were embraced as normal from hereto, to same sex, to casual, to polyamorous. She had never questioned this or wondered if such things were as freely accepted in the Living World or Heaven."

"Could this have resulted in Angel's drug use," Charlie asked?

"Possibly," Husk sighed. "Though being from a Mafia family wouldn't have helped things either."

"About that," Charlie said. "What can you tell me about the Mafia?"

"Not much," Husk said. "I met people and associations from various Mob groups. All I can tell you about them is they aren't the gun-toting monsters you would see in movies. There were a few who were complete psychopaths, but a lot of them were respectable businessmen who didn't want any sort of trouble. However, they also were not men you wanted to get on the bad side of either. So, if you want my advice, that is not a subject to ask too many questions about."

"Thank you for this," Charlie said.

"You're welcome," Husk replied. "Look, could you tell Angel that Al, Niffty, and I…we'll be wishing him a smooth recovery. Drug withdrawal is nasty business and he will need all the support he can get."

"So how are you feeling," Vaggie asked after Angel had returned to his room. The Spider made no response as he half-heartedly browsed the breakfast menu. He wasn't in the mood to put up with Vaggie or to listen to her to chew him out about not telling them he was using drugs behind their backs and that it doesn't fit it well with what they were trying to do. He already felt like crap as it is.

Realizing she wasn't going to get a response Vaggie just sat down on her borrowed cot and fumed. In previous times acting like she didn't exist would have been seen as an improvement compared to making crude comments at her expense. But now, she would just wish he would talk to her or acknowledge her.

"I really hope you are going clean for real," Vaggie remarked. "Charlie can't keep making excuses for you, if you are going to turn to drugs to solve your problems or act out in ways that could make our project look like it's not worth anyone's time. Then I don't know what more we can do."

"So, what happens when this vacation is over," Angel asked? He had put the menu aside and lay back against the pillows of the bed, one arm thrown over his eyes.

"That is something Charlie and I are discussing." Vaggie said. "According to the news there have been some reports that you have retired from the Porn business. Valentino has been making the excuse that you are undergoing some creative differences and that you were taking the time to reevaluate your career. Though the studio has been making some stories that Charlie must be brainwashing you or coercing you in some way."

"Vox's doing," Angel sighed. "Or maybe Velvet's influence. It's obvious that the four of us can't stay here indefinitely, and when we get back to the city Val's going to do whatever it takes to get me back regardless of Charlie's orders."

"None of us want you to go back to him," Vaggie replied. "I don't know what we can do, but I know there is something that can be done."

"That don't really cut it," Angel depressedly said as he rolled over onto his side. "Unless you gals are plannin on keepin' me cooped up at the hotel until I can somehow become redeemed."

"Angel," Vaggie said under her breath. She had never seen him like this before. Usually, Charlie was able to see glimpses from behind the mask he used to hide himself. At least the glimpses he was able to trust her with, but this…this was like she was seeing a completely different Angel Dust. The sort of side to himself that he never showed anyone but was this truly the Angel that was behind the facade of glammor and make up. Or was this an Angel Dust created by the withdrawal.

"It's obvious that even if redemption was possible," Angel said. "It's never been in the cards for me, you were right…I was just a waste of everyone's time."

"I…" Vaggie started to object but then closed her eyes sadly as she remembered the day when Charlie had first propositioned him for the hotel. From the moment she had first met Angel she was quick to see him as someone who was not suitable for what they were trying to do. If she had known what she did now, would she have thought things differently? "I never should have said that...I'm sorry." Whatever Angel had been expecting it wasn't that. He didn't say anything but the way he had turned his head towards her so that the darker of his mismatched eyes regarded her, it almost appeared as though he was trying to assess her words. As if he was trying to detect a potential lie hidden underneath them.

"I've never told anyone this…" Vaggie said. There was a clear undertone of discomfort as though she didn't want to speak about this, but it was time for someone to hear this story. "But I am actually a victim. I'm not comparing what I've gone through to everything you experienced, but I do understand what it means to be used as someone's plaything and how humiliating that feels. You once noted that I didn't particularly like or trust men, and at the time I took it as something you wanted to tease me about. When I had been alive, I lived a happy and peaceful life with my parents, my older brother, and baby sister. We had a good community around us, however we lived on a rural road some distance from town. So, if anything happened, we were five miles away from the nearest police. One night about a week after I had turned fifteen, I had been home with my family. Suddenly a small group of men broke into our house. They were a group of escaped convicts who had managed to break out of jail by killing a couple of guards and taking their weapons. While they were on the run, they caught sight out our house and thought whoever was there could be used as a hostage to keep the police at bay. They didn't allow any of us to grab anything as we were led out of the house both at gun and knife point. My father pleaded with the prisoners to let my mother, sister, and I go. My brother and I would do whatever they asked. The men would ignore him, until one of them got fed up and told him if didn't stop asking my brother and father would be digging our graves. My younger sister was only a small child, and she was scared over who these men were and what they wanted to do with us. I was also concerned, but I made an effort to let her know we would be okay. Once we came to their camp. The leading convict looked each of us over, though his eyes remained a little long on me. He then said he had too many hostages, the men and the child were useless to him, but the women would warm his bed rolls. Without thought my father, brother, and sister were shot dead before my eyes. My mother flew into a hysterical rage at the sight of her husband and two of her two children murdered. She attempted to attack one of our captors only for him to strangle her until she went limp and lifeless. Then they…"

Vaggie's breath hitched at the memory of being punched in the face to knock her flat onto the ground. One of the vile beasts who dared to call himself a man grabbing hold of her hair and telling her that she should behave herself or she would get what her family got. And then he was on her, large meaty hands forcibly holding her down as she struggled to get away from them. The fabric of her top was torn open to exposing her chest and the pain as she felt her body being savagely violated. After he was done the beast disguised as a man stood up, tucked himself back into his pants and then mockingly thanked her for having him be her first time. Soon after another man took his place, and then another after him. She had stopped putting up a fight by the time the fourth man took his turn, all of them laughing and jeering about how she had become their whore and she would earn her living working for them. The only thing she could focus on were the deceased bodies of her family that lay around her. In her shock and humiliation over everything that was being done, she found she didn't grieve for her father or brother. Instead, she was angry with them for being dead when she wanted them to protect her…when she needed them to stop what was happening to her. She despised the peoople who ravaged her body for believing it was their given right as men to punish and humiliate her for the crime of being born a female. And the men of her neighboring community for being able to peacefully sleep in their beds with their families, while she was orphaned and alone as she was being molested by a group of monsters. If this was what it meant to be a man, then she didn't want to have anything to do with them...ever.

"They hurt me," Vaggie said. Angel had rolled over on the hospital bed so he was laying on his stomach watching her. He remained quiet, not giving off the slightest notion he wanted to say anything to disrupt or make light of what she was telling him.

"When they were finally done with me," Vaggie continued. "I was forced to dig a grave for my family members. I was forced to do this completely nude. Their excuse was so they could make sure I couldn't conceal any weapons or anything, but I believe it was only they could humiliate me more as they forced me to use my bare hands to dig at the dirt and create a resting place for my parents and siblings. During the few times I could hear people calling out for me and my family members as they searched for us, the men holding me hostage told me that I called out or screamed they would cut out my tongue. Over the next several years, I was used by these men over and over again. I was given some old ratty clothing to wear as we were forced to move from campground to campground and was forced to pretend that I was the niece of some of the men. All the while they would keep me close to be sure I didn't talk to anyone or run off to find help. They sold me to others to use as they liked if we stopped with areas that had other people. When we were in camp, they would make sure I understood that they could kill me whenever they wanted, I was nothing to them, I was just there to be insurance. Eventually when I was around my twenties, I decided to formulate an escape, while we were looking through a junk yard for scrap we can use or sell, I came across a knife. It was rusty and corroded, but it would do what I needed. I immediately stashed it in a pocket of my pants and managed to squirrel it away in my bedding. Then that night, when one of my captors came to screw me, I attacked them. I managed to stab two of the men in self-defense and slashed out at a third before I was overpowered, then all I knew was darkness before I woke up in Hell."

"That does make some sense," Angel mentally processed as he shifted to a sitting position. "I figured there was some reason for you not liking or trusting guys, not that I blame you. Though the people who hurt you weren't men, those schmucks didn't even deserve to be called people, they were just animals. I can sympathize with yah on that, because I've had a similar experience. I don't know how acceptable being gay or bi was in the time you were alive, but in the time, I was from...being gay made you persona non grata. I've tried the beard thing a few times and I just never liked it. I have no problems with girls or hangin' out with 'em. But I didn't want to lead some dame into a sham relationship. Even if she was aware that the only reason, I was courtin' her was to hide who I was. She'd only end up resenting me because all it'll end up being is just playing house with a male roommate. It's bad enough I had to hide what I was, I didn't need to rope an someone else into it too."

"So how did you keep people from knowing you were gay," Vaggie asked? She had also lived understanding that loving a person of the same gender could be frowned upon, when she had been alive being a same sex couple wasn't seen something that had to be kept hidden like it was a 'Mark of Cane'. Being transgendered was more in the forbidden subject category and even then, it was becoming more accepted around the time she had died.

"It wasn't really a secret…at least not in the family," Angel replied as he drew his knees to his chest. He had noted that Charlie and Cherri had arrived in the room, but he hadn't said anything to Vaggie about it. The female moth hadn't noticed the arrival of their other two companions, and if he stopped to let her know he knew he couldn't continue what he was about to say. "Pops always suspected that there was something off about me. He'd do things to correct it or what he considered correcting. For instance, one of the guys who worked in the family managed a prostitution racket. When I was sixteen, Pops had me do some jobs under him while I was proving myself to the family; told me it would 'man me up'. After a couple'a months of working for this guy, the creep serving as my 'Padrone' requested that I come to his office. He then told me he knew from the moment he saw me that I was gay, and he had contacts with the other families. So if I didn't want to be outed, I'd have to "buy" his silence. At that time, I hadn't slept with anyone, and sure as shit wasn't going to have my first time with some creepy asshole. So, I struggled to get away from him, it was during this that I managed to grab hold of a letter opener. Often one of the ways to prove yourself to a Crime Family is to kill someone as part of a job, this is referred to as 'making your bones'. That event was where I made mine."

Vaggie was speechless at this is, Angel hadn't been much older than she had been when she had been molested. But he had managed to kill the person trying to rape him while she hadn't…she hadn't considered that was even possible or checked to see if there was anything she could have used as a weapon. Having finished his story, the Spider had seemingly turned his attention towards her, or rather towards something over her shoulder. Looking behind her, Vaggie saw Charlie and Cherri standing in the doorway. Cherri remained neutral like she had heard of or seen Angel in similar situations before, Charlie was holding a hand to her mouth as though not sure how to react at this given moment.

"When did you two get here," Vaggie asked? She was surprised she hadn't been aware of the arrival of the other two demon females.

"Oh," Cherri said with a shrug. "Around the time Angie was saying he didn't want to put a girl into a fake relationship with him." Angel had rested his head on his drawn-up knees as his attention returned to the lake. Hell Crows flew in distant murders, possibly squabbling over the leftovers of a recent kill. He bit his lip as he fought back tears as the memory of the day, he killed Mario Valvano filled his mind.

1929

"Ah Anthony," The older man said as he entered the room. "Shut the door, would yah…I want to have a man-to-man discussion with you." Anthony knew when the Padrone he was assigned to wanted to have a man-to-man conversation he wanted the door to be closed and locked because the discussion was to be private, and he wanted no one could walk in on them. Obediently he did so, though there was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that this was not a normal meeting. Valvano had never had the need to call him in for a private meeting before, so what would be the reason for this now. He showed up on time, he did the tasks given, and collected the earnings from the girls. He had been nice to each of the women who worked for Valvano, and even the ones who didn't like him had nothing to complain to their employer about. So, what had he done that required him to be in a private meeting. Turning back to the desk he noticed that Valvano was eyeing him in an uncomfortable manner.

Mario Valvano was a heavy set Sicilian man in his mid-sixties. His dark brown eyes had pouched bags underneath them while his jowelly face gave him the appearance of a bulldog. His salt and pepper hair receded from his scalp as though each follicle couldn't wait to die.

"Is there something you need me to do for you," The younger man asked, trying to maintain a calm demeaner. It had been over four months since Molly and Enzo had retrieved him from that mental hospital. He hadn't recovered from the repeated corrective treatments given to him. From drugs meant to endues vomiting while being shown photos of male nudes. Electroshock therapy sessions that left him lying on the bed in his room vaguely gazing into space as his body would have periodic convulsive contractions. To the weeks that would pass by in a blur due to the comas he would be in due to the insulin shock therapy, only to have images of nude and suggestively alluring women shoved in his face once he had awakened. So being in a situation where he felt like was being interrogated by someone often gave him PTSD triggers.

"You've been workin' for me for a month now, right," Valvano asked casually.

"It's been two," Anthony recounted. "Tomorrow would make it officially three months."

"I called you in here, cause…" Valvano paused as he gave the sixteen-year-old boy an appraising look. "You know I have friends in the 'other' families. Ones who would be quite interested in hearin' about you." A cringe ran down Anthony's spine, but he tried to remain calm.

"I…" The younger man said uncomfortably as he ran his hand in his golden-brown locks. His butterscotch-colored eyes searched the room as though trying to see if there were any button men lying in wait. "I uh don't know what you mean."

"Come on," Valvano said as he got up, he loosened his tie and a few buttons of his shirt as he approached. "You ain't fooling anyone, I knew you was a fag the moment your Pops introduced you to me. Don Henrico only gave yah to me believing that I can make you a man." Anthony backed up against the wall, he could smell the pungent scent of garlic from Valvano's breath mixed in with the rank odor of his cologne. The two together along with the older man's putrid body reek gave off a hot garbage smell. The teenage boy let out an involuntary gasp as he one of Valvano's meaty hands slammed against the wall beside his head.

"What your Pop's don't know is I swing both ways," The larger man said as with a predatory grin. "I don't often help myself to men, but you…you got a face that's pretty enough to belong to a girl. So, this is how it's gonna go, you don't want me outtin' yah to the other families…the ones who'd want to give the Ragno family trouble, then you buy my silence."

"No, no," Anthony protested as the second meaty paw grabbed his shoulder.

"What'ya mean no," Valvano barked. "You get exposed, you'll be dead, simple as that and your Papa's reputation goes down with you. This room is locked and there is nowhere for you to run, so what's it gonna be?" Anthony looked about him for some escape, some means to get out of this room, but there was none as he felt Valvano press his foul-smelling body against his own. He felt a coarsely whiskered mouth press against his own while both arms were pinned against the wall.

"Just relax ragazzo (Boy)," Valvano whispered as his mouth moved to explore the younger man's neck. One knee going between Anthony's legs. "I'll make it feel good for you."

"No," Anthony fearfully said. "No, please."

"Ah…" Valvano said with a lecherous smirk as he started to pull Anthony's shirt out where it was tucked in his trousers. "So, you haven't been touched before, I would have thought you would have experimented by now. Considering the coy looks you've been giving me whenever I've seen you, it's like you were just begging for me to have you."

"No," Anthony gritted his teeth as he continued to struggle and push against the man holding him against the wall. This only resulted in one of Valvano's hands holding both of his arms over his head while the other hand deftly undid the buttons of his shirt exposing his gaunt torso. The older man then grabbed both arms and carried him across the room until his back was slammed down across the desk. The action caused several office supplies to fall to the floor.

"I wonder if your twin sister is as feisty as you are," Valvano said as leaned over and ground his hardening groin against the scrawnier boy. "The only thing that bitch is good for is to be a bargaining chip and I have much to offer for her to be my bride."

"NOOOO…" Anthony yelled before he sank his teeth into the closest thing he could reach, the older man's jowled cheek. Valvano was startled enough by the pain to let go of the boy he was crushing beneath him. The younger man immediately took advantage of the freedom and pushed away the man who was attempting to molest him.

"You worthless brat," The jowl-faced man snarled as he punched Anthony in the face hard enough to send him to the ground. "That does it, I'll fucken kill yah when I'm done with yah. Probably be doin your old man a favor. I was going to pleasure yah before I took yah before, but now I see you want to have it really rough."

Seeing the desk supplies that had been knocked to the floor the closest thing at hand was a brass letter opener, a fancy one shaped like a dagger. When his brother had described making his first kill, he had said that nothing else exists in the moment. All that exists is you, the person you need to drop, and the weapon you have in your possession. The only thing that matters is your survival, you have only one chance to make a killing blow. If you don't land a critical hit, you are as good as dead. In this moment, the only thing that existed for Anthony was that letter opener and the man trying to force him onto his back so he could get at his belt. He didn't realize he had grabbed the letter opener and had struck. Valvano suddenly reared back and made a gurgling strangled noise as his hands scrabbled at the hilt of something metal that was strangely protruding from the area of his neck where his carotid artery was. All air seemed to have left his body at the horrific sight, he had expected to hit the man in the eye or maybe a serious wound to the shoulder. He didn't expect a mortal wound like this, the only help he could get would be from the paramedics and there was no guarantee they would get there in time. If he died there would be a number of families who would want the teenage boy's head on a silver platter.

"Wait don't," Anthony protested, but his words fell on deaf ears as Valvano pulled the knife-like object from his neck only for blood to spurt forth from the open wound, red frothed at Valvano's mouth as he fell forward. He convulsed a couple of times and then went still. Everything felt like a blur as Anthony grabbed the phone on the desk and dialed a number.

"Hello," A male voice answered after a couple of rings.

"Zio Umberto," Anthony responded. "I…Valvano's…I didn't mean."

"Tony calm down," Umberto Andreioli replied. "You're not makin' any sense, just calm down and tell me what happened."

"Val…Valvano," Anthony tried to say, but he was so distressed his words were coming out jumbled. "I didn't mean to…I tried to…I was trying to stop him."

"Hang on, hang on," Umberto said. "I'm going to head over there." It wasn't long before Umberto materialized at the door. Anthony was unaware he had even unlocked and opened the door to his father's consigliere. Close behind him was Enzo and another man who worked for the family, Luca Celani.

Umberto Andreioli was in his mid-forties. While he appeared hard hearted and cruel, he was a kind-hearted soul. His dark brown hair was slicked back from his chiseled face, the light olive tone of his skin was a testament to his Calabrian heritage.

"Anthony," Umberto said. "What happened here?" His dark eyes took in the younger man's state of undress and the marks on the boy's face and body that suggested he had been in an altercation. They also took in the room which looked like a struggle had taken place. That's when his sights landed on Valvano's form lying in a puddle of blood. Enzo had moved past the older man and knelt by the body.

"Here," Luca suggested as wrapped an arm around Anthony's shoulders and guided him to the couch in the room. "He's obviously in some form of shock." Umberto entered the room as Enzo checked Valvano's pulse before he stood up and opened the window. The twenty-year-old mafioso didn't need to say anything, the smell of voided bowels was proof the man was deceased.

"This was the means of death," Enzo stated as he handed over the dagger shaped letter opener he had found close to the body to Umberto. The blood on the blade end was proof enough.

"I think Valvano may have tried to do something," Celani commented. Anthony was seated on the couch; his golden olive skin had blanched to the point it was gray. His fingers had clamped onto his skull and looked as though they threatened to tear bloody fissures into his flesh.

"It seems so," Umberto said, before he approached the distressed boy. "Anthony, you aren't in trouble, but I need your account of what happened."

"He tried…to…" The teenager said unsteadily. "He tried…" He suddenly leaned forward and lost the contents of his stomach on to the floor. Umberto stepped out of the way to avoid the vomit while Enzo pinched the bridge between his eyes in frustration. Anything said between the other three men was garbled as his consciousness swam in and out.

"I'll…investigation," Umberto said. "Stay somewhere…time being"

"My Popa…winery…left to me," Celani offered. "...safe…until."

"Do that," Enzo's words were firm as though delivering an order. "...let Pops know." Anthony felt one arm being slung over Celani's shoulders as he was carried out of the room. "Didn't know he had the guts to do this," He heard Enzo say to Umberto with a tone that sounded mildly impressed. But quickly dismissed it as wishful thinking.

A hand being lightly placed on his shoulder pulled him back to the present. He didn't jump at the touch, possibly because the gesture was trying to be mindful of what sort of mindset he could be in right now, he had a feeling it must be Charlie. Cherri knew him well enough to be aware when he was in a mood, but she had more of a physical familiarity with him. Vaggie wasn't a touchy-feely type, at least not towards him. Charlie was the only one of the three girls who did try to be mindful of his comfort level in regard to physical displays of friendly affection. After a moment he turned to acknowledge her.

The blond girl's red pupiled eyes were softened as though she wanted to say something that would be hard for him to hear. But she seemed to grasp that he already knew what she wanted to say, because someone had either said it already or he had come to that conclusion himself.

He was tired…he was just so sick and tired. That was how to best describe it, he was tired of being in fear, tired of the pain, tired of offering his body to some mook he wasn't going to remember or even care enough to just make Val rich. Even now, as much as he wanted drugs...craved them. The drugs themselves didn't make the pain and suffering go away. It only offered a short moment of detached relief that only masked the pain and the memories. If he felt like shit on ciabatta, then how did that make being high worth it? After all...all he was doing when he bought dust and shit like it, was to give more of his earnings to Valentino.

And here Charlie was laying things down on the line...for him. She had believed him when others had said no one would. She was willing to step in and call a halt to Valentino's control over him. She had seen something in him that few ever did, and she had taken the time to try and do everything she could to bring that something forward. Any other demon would have tossed him out on his can at the first sign of trouble. He owed her…he had agreed to be part of her hotel, she had done her part, he needed to fill his end. Otherwise...he'd be back where he started...working for and being tortured by Val or assholes like him. And just baring it all alone...suffering through it...alone... as he had since manifesting in Hell over seven decades ago. Alone as he had been whenever Molly had to leave to return upstate. Alone as he had been ever since Luca Celani had died.

There was a knock on the door frame before a female Hellhound stepped into the room. She had muted golden tan and white fur, dressed in a black peasant blouse that exposed her shoulders and a short denim skirt. Her silvery hair was tied back into a high ponytail.

"Sorry to interrupt," The Hellhound said. "I heard there was a patient in the clinic, but I hadn't heard any calls for breakfast yet."

"Ah Tetra," Charlie said in greeting. "Everyone, this is Tetra, she's the chef at the cabin estate."

"If you had a chef here," Cherri asked in confusion. "Why the fuck were we making dinner yesterday?" Vaggie elbowed the other girl in the ribs at her rude question.

"The times Vaggie and I have been here together," Charlie explained. "We've preferred to make our own meals since it's just the two of us. So, Tetra goes to the liberty of making sure any food needed at the cabin is available for our use. By the way Angel, was there anything you wanted for breakfast?"

"Angel…" Hellhound asked? She peered into the room and noticed the demon sitting on the bed. "As in Angel Dust, I didn't know the patient at the clinic was a celebrity."

"According to the news," Angel said with mild sarcasm. "I'm apparently retiring and reevaluating my career."

"I hope so," Tetra said. "I liked your singing performances a lot more than your other stuff. During your porn films, you never sounded like you were enjoying yourself despite how you make look like you were. But during the times you would sing, you just lose yourself in the music."

"Which ones did you like most," Angel asked? "I've done Addict, Use Me Up, Show and Tell, and 911. At least those are the ones I can name off the top of my head."

"Depends on my mood," Tetra responded. "But often it's a tossup between Addict and Use Me Up?"

"I didn't know you sing," Charlie said.

"I seem to recall given' out tickets to one of my performances," Angel gave a half-hearted smirk. "Neither song fits in with what you're selling with the hotel though, so it's probably a good thing no one came." Vaggie was about to say something, but a sharp look from Charlie stopped her from saying anything. The Hellborn Princess got the impression that Angel was giving an underlying suggestion.

"Tell you what," Tetra suggested. "Since you haven't ordered anything, I have some muffins that I had made earlier. Why don't I bring up a selection and some plates?"

"That sounds lovely," Charlie smiled in approval as Tetra left.