Husk meticulously applied generous amounts of vodka to the numerous open sores that marred Angel's body. With each application, the spider demon gasped and hissed in response to the stinging sensation caused by the alcohol seeping into his festering wounds and bloody abrasions. Despite the intense pain, Angel remained in a deep slumber, as promised by Alastor. The extent of the damage inflicted upon the young male demon by Valentino and Vox was evident, indicating that this torturous ordeal had persisted for a considerable duration. Under the circumstances, perhaps it was a stroke of luck that Angel had yet to regain consciousness.
Sighing through his nose, the demon cat regarded the unconscious demon with a mixture of concern and paternal instinct. The boy desperately needed rest and a chance to recover, but the moth demon showed no intention of granting him that respite. Bound by a soul contract, whether coerced or not, it seemed unlikely that even Charlie could intervene to free Angel from his current predicament. The members of Hell's royal family held immense power, but they rarely involved themselves directly in the affairs of individual demons unless it posed a threat to Hell itself. Val, being one of them, would likely be less susceptible to being swayed by Charlie's influence, unlike Alastor.
"Niffty," Husk called out gruffly, his voice carrying a tinge of annoyance, as he gathered up the clothing that belonged to the unconscious spider demon. With a nonchalant shrug, he left the bathing room, ensuring to close the door to the ensuite lavatory to grant the spider some much-needed privacy. He knew that despite the seriousness of the situation, Niffty couldn't resist sneaking a peek at male nudity whenever the opportunity arose.
"Take care of these, will ya?" Husk handed over the clothing to the small cyclops, his tone slightly impatient. Niffty, ever the dutiful helper, didn't question a thing and swiftly scampered off with the garments in hand, ready to attend to her assigned task.
"How's Angel?" Charlie asked, her voice laced with genuine concern. The distress in her eyes was evident, and Husk couldn't blame her. After all, the spider demon had been missing for days, and their attempts to reach him at the studio had been met with vague explanations and stonewalling. Valentino's dismissive remarks about Angel being involved in some supposed "special project" only served to highlight the Overlord's arrogance.
It took a tremendous amount of faith for the Princess to hold onto the hope that Angel would eventually return to them. It was clear to everyone that she longed for a valid reason, an excuse even, to storm into the studio and demand Valentino to release him. However, the only thing preventing her from acting on that impulse was the fear that her rescue mission might put Angel in even greater danger. It tore at her heart to feel as though she were forsaking the well-being of the hotel's sole resident, but she couldn't risk his safety in her desperate attempts to save him.
Husk could see the struggle within Charlie, torn between her love for Angel as someone she valued as a friend and her concern for his welfare. And as much as it pained her, she knew she had to tread carefully, weighing the risks and considering the potential consequences before making any move.
"I wouldn't say he's alright," Husk replied gruffly. "After everything that's been done to him, he's going to need a significant amount of time to reset and recover. And let's face it, that Pimp Overlord isn't exactly known for his compassion and understanding."
Husk's tone carried a mixture of concern and frustration. He understood the extent of the damage inflicted upon Angel and knew that it would take more than just physical rest to heal the wounds that couldn't be seen. The emotional and psychological toll would require patience, support, and a safe environment, none of which Valentino seemed inclined to provide.
"It's up to us to make sure he gets the care he needs," Husk continued, his voice firm. "We can't rely on that scumbag to do right by Angel. We have to find a way to help him ourselves, even if it means going against Valentino's wishes. I don't know what he's done in life, but it couldn't have been bad enough to earn this."
"I can have a talk with Val tomorrow," Charlie said with a determined yet composed tone. Despite her outward calmness, her voice betrayed the seething anger that simmered within her. The thought of being forced to worry, knowing that Angel was in trouble and feeling helpless, fueled her determination. She was eager to find a way to intervene and bring an end to his suffering.
"Perhaps there is something I can do or say that will convince him to release Angel from his contract or at least reach a compromise," Charlie continued, her mind already racing with possible approaches. She knew it wouldn't be an easy task, considering Valentino's arrogant nature and the power he held over Angel. But her belief in Angel being redeemed, coupled with her determination to protect him and the belief that he deserved better, fueled her resolve.
"I would be careful," Alastor cautioned, his voice carrying an air of genuine concern, though his perpetual smile made it difficult to discern his true intentions. Husk returned to the bathing room, continuing his task of tending to Angel.
"As the Princess of Hell, you do hold a certain degree of power that surpasses Valentino and his cohorts," Alastor explained, his tone measured. "However, it would be unwise to expect them to obediently bow to your will simply due to your higher authority. The denizens of this world perceive you as... shall we say, 'too nice.' Consequently, you do not command the same level of respect as individuals such as Queen Lilith or King Lucifer."
Charlie responded calmly to clarify the misconception. "Actually, it's Lucifer," she explained. "My father's name is Lucifer. He is King Lucifer Morningstar."
Alastor's smile widened even further, a mischievous glint in his eyes as Charlie mentioned her father's name. He could sense the scandalous nature of the revelation, and the potential implications it held. Before Vaggie could intervene or react to Alastor's expression, Husk interrupted the conversation by emerging from the bathing room, cradling Angel in his arms.
The spider demon hung limply, his form dressed in the loose-fitting clothing that Husk had been provided. The sight of Angel's battered and injured body sent a wave of horror through the room. The Princess let out a horrified gasp, her hands instinctively covering her mouth, as she took in the extent of the torture that had been inflicted upon their unconscious companion.
Husk grumbled with a hint of frustration as he gently laid Angel down on the bed, his expression a mixture of concern and irritation. He glanced towards Charlie and Alastor, his voice tinged with bitterness as he spoke his mind.
"I think Val was sending you a message," Husk muttered, his tone laced with annoyance. He felt the weight of Valentino's actions and the message they conveyed about the power dynamics at play. It was clear to him that the Overlord wanted to assert his dominance and remind them all of the consequences of defying him.
"Here," Charlie said softly, her voice filled with a mixture of tenderness and anguish, as she carefully draped the bed covers over the slumbering spider demon. Her gaze traced over every bruise and wound that marred Angel's body, her heart aching at the sight of his gaunt frame hidden beneath the fabric. Tears welled up in her eyes, reflecting the depth of her sorrow and anger at the atrocities inflicted upon him. Yet, she fought against letting those tears fall, not wanting to succumb to her emotions in that moment.
Vaggie's voice cut through the somber atmosphere, her tone a mix of concern and mild annoyance. She raised an eyebrow and waved a hand in front of her nose, trying to alleviate the strong scent that hung in the air.
"Did you dump the whole bottle of vodka over him?" Vaggie asked, her voice tinged with exasperation. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Husk, who was standing nearby. It was evident that she disapproved of his questionable choice of using alcohol to tend to Angel's wounds.
Husk shrugged nonchalantly in response to Vaggie's disapproving gaze. He acknowledged her concerns but stood by his decision, offering a brief explanation for his actions.
"Most of it, anyway," Husk replied, his voice holding a hint of indifference. "Drinks with high alcohol content can act as antiseptics. It'll help prevent his wounds from getting infected, at least to some extent. Given the circumstances, it's the best I can do without involving a medic."
Husk's experience as a demon in Hell had taught him unconventional ways to handle certain situations. While he understood Vaggie's worry, he believed that using the alcohol as a makeshift antiseptic was a practical solution in their current predicament.
"Everything else is up to him," Husk continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "Once he wakes up, he can decide if he wants to take a shower or whatever else he feels he needs. It's his call."
"Speaking of rest," Alastor chimed in, his voice laced with his usual cheerful tone. "The rest of us should consider doing that ourselves. There's nothing further we can do here for the time being."
Meanwhile, Charlie had finished adjusting the bed clothes around the unconscious spider to assure her that he would be comfortable. With delicate care, she took one of Angel's hands into her own, her gentle touch a testament to her deep concern and affection for him.
Alastor observed the tender moment, a fleeting hint of warmth softening his usually enigmatic expression. He understood the significance of Charlie's gesture, the connection and solace it offered to both herself and Angel. However, he also recognized that their presence in the room was no longer needed at that moment.
Vaggie spoke up, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and reassurance. She approached Charlie and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, offering support in a difficult moment.
"We should go, hun," Vaggie said in a comforting tone. "Let him rest for now. We can check on him in the morning and make sure he's doing okay."
Charlie's voice wavered with a mix of reluctance and concern as she contemplated leaving Angel's side. She understood the necessity of giving him space to rest and recover, but the guilt of leaving him alone weighed heavily on her.
"But," Charlie hesitated, her gaze lingering on Angel's still form, her heart torn between her desire to stay and the practicality of the situation. "You're right... we should let Cherri know he's been found."
Vaggie interjected gently, her voice carrying a note of caution and consideration. She understood Charlie's desire to inform Cherri Bomb about Angel's return, but she also recognized the need to give Angel the rest he required.
"She'll want to see him immediately," Vaggie cautioned, her tone filled with understanding. "But we should wait until morning to tell her. It's important for Angel to have some uninterrupted time to rest and recover. Cherri will understand, and she'll want what's best for him."
Vaggie's words were driven by her concern for Angel's well-being. She knew that Cherri Bomb's fiery personality and protective instincts would likely cause her to rush to Angel's side without hesitation. However, Vaggie believed it was essential to prioritize Angel's need for rest, even in the face of Cherri's potential urgency.
"If it makes you feel better," Alastor offered with a hint of mischief in his voice, "I can have one of my shadows keep watch outside his door. They're quite effective at detecting any unwanted intrusions or disturbances."
"Thank you, Alastor," Charlie whispered, her voice carrying a touch of weariness. She straightened herself and took a moment to lean forward, placing a gentle kiss on Angel's cheek as a silent gesture of care and affection.
With a heavy heart but a glimmer of hope, Charlie turned away from Angel's bedside. Vaggie, understanding the weight of the situation and the emotions that Charlie carried, wrapped her arm around Charlie's shoulders, offering a comforting embrace.
"You did all you could, Charlie," Vaggie whispered, her voice filled with compassion. "Let's go now, and give him the space he needs to recover."
Charlie nodded, her eyes brimming with both weariness and determination. She leaned into Vaggie's embrace, finding solace in her presence and support.
Husk, feeling the weight of the night's events, made his way to the doorway, ready to retire to his own room. The whirlwind of emotions and drama had taken its toll, leaving him longing for the solace of sleep. However, as he reached the threshold, his attention was captured by the sight of Alastor standing near Angel's bedside, quietly observing the slumbering spider.
Curiosity piqued, Husk paused and turned his gaze towards the scene unfolding before him. He watched as Alastor's hand reached out, his fingers gently brushing away a stray lock of hair that had fallen across Angel's face. The tenderness in Alastor's touch was unexpected, given his typically mischievous nature.
With a mixture of surprise and curiosity, Husk observed as Alastor's fingers traced along Angel's face, as if studying the features of the sleeping spider. Angel's body stirred slightly in response, as if sensing the presence of another, before settling into a peaceful slumber once again.
Husk couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue and perhaps even a touch of concern. Alastor's intentions were often shrouded in mystery, and this rare display of gentleness sparked a curiosity within the cynical demon.
"Just rest, my dear fellow," Alastor's smooth voice resonated gently through the room as he turned to leave. His eyes lingered on Angel for a moment longer, a glimmer of empathy flickering within their depths. With a final nod of reassurance, he stepped away from the bedside.
Before exiting, Alastor's hand reached out, his fingers delicately brushing against a small clock radio that rested on Angel's vanity. As his touch made contact, the device sprang to life, emitting soft and soothing piano music that filled the room. The melodic notes danced in the air, creating a serene ambiance, intended to lull the sleeping demon into a state of tranquility.
"May you slumber in peace and be free from torment," Alastor whispered, his words a whispered benediction for the exhausted spider demon. With a last glance towards Angel, he turned and made his way out of the room, leaving behind a gentle melody to accompany the spider's dreams.
"Admit it," Husk's gravelly voice cut through the air as Alastor closed the door behind him. "You've got a soft spot for the kid, don'tcha?"
"I beg your pardon," Alastor responded, his voice dripping with suave politeness, his smile turning dark at the suggestion. "I am afraid I have no idea what you are even talking about, Husk."
His crimson eyes bore into Husk's with an intensity that conveyed both amusement and a hint of warning. Alastor straightened his suit, exuding an air of unwavering confidence as he towered over the room.
"Feelings for the kid?" Alastor chuckled, the sound laced with a touch of sinister delight. "Oh, my dear Husker, you've let your imagination run wild once again." He took a step closer, the dimly lit hallway seemingly growing darker as his presence loomed. Alastor's smile widened, revealing sharp teeth, each one a testament to his predatory nature. "You underestimate me, my friend. My desires transcend mortal emotions, Love, affection, attachment... such things are beneath me."
"Sure," Husk continued, his tone teasing. "Keep telling yourself that, Al. But I've seen the way you look at 'em.. Denial suits you, I'll give you that. You may think you're above all that emotional nonsense, but even the great Radio Demon can't escape the pull of human connection. You can put on a show all you want, Al, but I see through your act. You can't fool me."
Alastor's expression darkened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. But Husk remained unfazed, his eyes locking onto Alastor's with a mixture of mischief and understanding.
"You can hide behind your power and manipulation, but deep down, there's a part of you that cares," Husk continued, his voice carrying a touch of sincerity beneath the banter. "Maybe it scares you, or maybe you just don't want to admit it, but it's there, Alastor."
Angel's awakening was a slow and arduous process. His body still bore the weight of exhaustion and the lingering pain from the abuse he had endured. As he tried to shake off the remnants of unconsciousness, his mind remained shrouded in a dense fog. The last coherent memory he possessed was collapsing in a desolate, shadowy alley. Vague recollections emerged, hinting at the presence of two individuals who had stumbled upon him. However, he couldn't definitively confirm whether these memories were genuine or mere figments of his imagination.
Gradually, Angel's awareness began to register his surroundings. He became aware of the sensation of lying on a bed, yet the unfamiliar setting left him perplexed and disoriented. If he had indeed lost consciousness in that alley, it was plausible that the person who discovered him had brought him to their own dwelling, awaiting his revival. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps they had already taken advantage of his unconsciousness, adding to his apprehension.
As his senses slowly awakened, Angel became aware of a slight weight pressing against his body—an arm draped across him. Uncertainty gripped him as he questioned whether this arm belonged to the person who had found him or if it belonged to another individual entirely. The enigma of his current situation deepened, leaving him with a mix of vulnerability and suspicion.
Angel stirred, a soft snuffling sound tickling his ear. Slowly, he cracked open his eyes, greeted by the sight of Fat Nuggets, his loyal pet pig, standing before him. The pig's moist snout gently nuzzled against his face, as if questioning his prolonged slumber. It was as though Fat Nuggets was silently asking, "How long are you going to sleep?"
"Nuggz," Angel murmured, his voice weary and hoarse. As he exerted effort to sit up, he became acutely aware of the stiffness and weakness that permeated his body. Gathering the small pig affectionately into his arms, he found solace in the presence of his beloved pet. Yet, as his gaze swept across the room as he gradually began to register where he was. Confusion still clouded his mind, however. He couldn't recall returning to the hotel, nor did he have any recollection of changing into these clothes. Everything seemed like a disorienting blur, fragments of a puzzle he couldn't piece together.
Suddenly, a faint groan broke the silence, drawing Angel's attention. His eyes widened as he witnessed the person lying beside him beginning to stir.
"Angie," the single-eyed female known only as Cherri Bomb exclaimed, her voice a blend of elation and concern. "It's about time you woke up! You have no idea how worried I was." Cherri's eyes scanned Angel's face, searching for any signs of recognition or comprehension, but received no immediate response.
"How did I...?" Angel's voice trailed off, his expression reflecting a disoriented state of mind. Confusion etched deep lines on his face as he attempted to make sense of the situation. "And why do I smell like someone dumped an open bar over me?"
"You don't know, do you?" Cherri's voice trembled with concern, the weight of the situation now more evident than before. She had hoped that Angel would have some semblance of understanding, a clue that could shed light on the events that led them to this bewildering moment. Yet, the realization that he was as much in the dark as she was only deepened her worry.
"Know what?" Angel's voice quivered with confusion, his eyes searching Cherri's face for clarity. Her words had struck a chord within him, but he couldn't fathom what she was referring to. The weight of his own uncertainty bore down on him, intensifying his desire for answers.
"Angie..." Cherri's voice quivered, her use of his nickname reflecting a cautious approach. It was as if she was preparing to deliver news she knew would be difficult for him to hear. Her voice held a mixture of concern and apprehension, bearing the weight of the truth she was about to reveal.
"You've been missing for over a week," Cherri finally uttered, her words landing heavily in the space between them. The gravity of her statement hung in the air, casting a shadow over the room. The realization hit Angel like a punch to the gut, his breath catching in his throat.
A torrent of emotions surged through him—confusion, disbelief, and a gnawing fear clawing at his insides. How could he have lost an entire week? What had transpired during that time? The questions flooded his mind, each one adding to the overwhelming sense of disorientation.
"Over a…" Angel gasped, his voice trembling with shock. "Wait, how long have I been unconscious?"
"All day," Cherri growled in response. "Though I swear, I've got half a mind to slug you a few times. Why the hell didn't you bother mentioning that one of those so-called broads you were shacking up with was the actual Princess of Hell?"
"Charlie is..." Angel Dust muttered, pinching his brow as if trying to ease his mounting anxiety. "She's just Charlie, ya know? I mean, sure, she's the crowned Princess and all that fancy stuff, but it don't really mean squat to me."
"I guess so," Cherri replied with a hint of begrudging acknowledgment. "I gotta admit, she's been keepin' an eye on you all damn day. Princess or not, she's been genuinely concerned about what happened to you."
"Are you…" Angel asked? In his mind he could hear Valentino's drunkenly slurred voice say "The Princess called...She sounded all worried about you, Angel... I wonder why?"
"No," Cherri coyly answered. "I'm not part of the Hotel, at least not yet. From what Charlie and her girlfriend told me, you didn't come back from the studio. Charlie had called the studio to see why you hadn't returned. That bastard you work for had told her you were working on a special project for him and had to remain on scene. The two girls then tracked me down to my turf, informed me you were missing, and asked if you managed to get in contact with me about this 'Project.' I let them know I hadn't heard from you, but if Valentino felt the need to keep you at the studio, it was not for good reasons. Charlie then thanked me for my time and said she'd inform me when you were found. She rang me up this morning and told me that you were found by that freaky Radio Demon guy. I got here as soon as possible, and I've been watching over you the entire time."
Angel half-listened to Cherri's explanation, his mind occupied with his own thoughts. Just as he was about to respond, a knock on the door interrupted their conversation, followed by Charlie peeking her head in.
"Angel," Charlie's voice carried a tone of relief as she said his name. "Thank goodness you're awake. Thank you so much for watching over him, Cherri."
"No problem," Cherri smiled at the other blond female before redirecting her attention towards Angel. "I hope Val doesn't need you for anything 'cause you sure as shit don't look like you're going anywhere."
"Wait... what time is it?" Angel asked, his voice tinged with confusion.
"It's nearly five pm," Charlie answered, concern evident in her voice. "I was beginning to wonder if I was going to need to call your employer and let him know you might not be in. Given the bruises I was able to see, I'm wondering if I should still call..."
Angel wasn't listening to her, however, as he brought one hand to his face, his breath heavy with anxiety. He was relieved that he was given a night off, but there were still moments when Val conveniently chose to forget that Angel was off and would have him brought in to entertain him or a particular client who requested him. The thought of that possibility only added to his distress.
"Give me my phone," Angel anxiously requested, his voice edged with urgency.
"Can you give me my phone, please?" Charlie corrected, handing the smart device to the spider demon. Angel's brow twitched slightly in irritation, but he didn't comment on it. This wasn't the time for her to give him a redemption lesson. He anxiously scrolled through his messages, and there it was—a message from Val. The message requested his presence at 5:30 PM because a client specifically asked for him. Checking the time on his phone, it read 5:00 PM. Panic surged through him as he realized the limited time he had. It would take at least twenty minutes to shower and get dressed, putting him out the door at 5:20. However, even if he jumped along the rooftops, it would still take a considerable amount of time to reach the studio. He knew he wouldn't make it on time.
"I need to go," Angel said firmly, determination in his voice, as he threw aside the bedding in a rush.
"Hang on," Charlie protested, holding her hands out to stop the spider from getting out of bed. "What's going on?" Her voice carried a mix of concern and confusion.
"I have a client at 5:30," Angel insisted, gently pushing the Princess aside. His sense of urgency was palpable. "There won't be time for a shower. If you gals could just leave the room, I'll be able to get dressed." He hoped they would understand the gravity of the situation and give him the space he needed to prepare.
"Blow it off," Cherri stated firmly as she got up from her seat on the bed. "You know Val enough to know this sort of game. It only proves to him that he has control over you." Her words carried a mix of frustration and concern for Angel's well-being. She wanted him to prioritize himself rather than succumbing to Val's manipulations.
"Val hates losing his credibility," Angel replied, his tone becoming increasingly distressed. "If he loses this client, Val is not going to see that as an acceptable loss. He already makes my existence a living hell, and that says a lot considering that's where we literally are, Cherri. I can't afford to anger him any further." The fear of the consequences weighed heavily on Angel's mind, causing his desperation to intensify. He pleaded for Cherri to understand the dire situation he was in.
"Look at yourself, man," Cherri insisted, her voice filled with concern. "I've seen what happens when he gets rough with you, and I've never seen it get this bad before. This isn't worth sacrificing your well-being for some client. Your safety should come first, Angel." She locked her single eye with his two mixed-matched ones, hoping he would understand the gravity of the situation and prioritize his own health and safety.
"How long will it take you to be ready?" Charlie asked, her voice filled with determination.
She wanted to insist that it was better for Angel to be resting, insist that she place a call to Val and sort things out so that this client could be serviced another time. It was evident to anyone that Angel wasn't in any condition to be engaging in any physical activity. Even just sitting up, his body appeared weak and shaky. However, a thought struck her. Husk had mentioned that Val might have been trying to send her a message with what was done to Angel. But for what purpose, and why exactly? What had Angel done to warrant such treatment? She had called Val when he didn't return from the studio, and the Overlord hadn't denied having Angel in his possession; he had only mentioned that Angel was involved in a "Special Project." Was part of what happened to the Spider a result of her call? She didn't want to hinder Angel or get him into further trouble. The anxiety in his voice was palpable, indicating his fear of the consequences if this client didn't get the requested time. Perhaps there was a way she could navigate through this situation. Even if she strongly suspected what Valentino had been doing to Angel was exactly what she assumed, the heir to Hell's Throne couldn't confront an Overlord based solely on a hunch.
Angel was somewhat taken aback by this response. He had expected Charlie to protest, to try and convince him that he should be in bed, prioritizing his well-being. He wouldn't have put it past her to want to call up Val and persuade him to inform the client that Angel was unavailable. And deep down, he knew Valentino would relish in that opportunity, reveling in the chance to inflict pain if the client sought services elsewhere.
"Excuse me, Princess," Cherri inquired, her voice laced with irritation. "What are you doing? Are you actually allowing this?" Her disbelief and frustration were evident as she confronted Charlie, questioning her decision to let Angel go despite his clearly weakened state.
"I'm not allowing it," Charlie explained, her voice determined. "I need to be sure about something. Angel, do what you need to do to get ready. Alastor will create a portal to the studio for you, and I'll have a car waiting to bring you back when you're done. Meet us downstairs." Her words carried a mix of concern and a hint of a plan forming in her mind.
"Angie, you don't need to do this," Cherri said, her voice filled with genuine concern. "Seriously, dude... think about what you're risking here." Her words were a plea, urging Angel to reconsider his decision and prioritize his own well-being over the demands of Val and the client.
"Cherri," Angel stated, his voice filled with resignation. "When it comes to Val, it's never been my choice. But I'll be alright. I've faced worse."
"You knew he was skeevy the moment he walked into 'The Harlequin Street Bar,'" Cherri pointed out, her voice tinged with frustration.
"Please... Cherri," Angel said with exasperation, his voice filled with a hint of desperation. "Just go downstairs so I can get dressed. I don't wanna do this, but it's better to get it over with."
"Okay…." Cherri sighed before she turned and left, the weight of concern evident in her voice. Once Angel was sure she was gone, a sense of urgency washed over him. He wasted no time in shedding the clothing he had been given as sleepwear. Even in the dim light, he could make out the damage inflicted on his body, a painful reminder of the violence he had endured.
As he examined his bruised and battered form, Angel couldn't help but feel a surge of anger and frustration. It was clear that Val, his manipulative tormentor, was well aware of the harm he had caused. This client, arranged by Val, seemed like just another opportunity to inflict more pain and humiliation upon Angel.
In his heart, Angel knew that Charlie, the compassionate owner of the hotel, had an inkling that something was amiss. She wouldn't willingly allow such mistreatment if she believed it to be normal. But the complexities of their situation left Angel with limited options. Refusing this client could create more problems, potentially jeopardizing the safety of the rest of the hotel's inhabitants.
Taking a deep breath, Angel steadied themselves and steeled their resolve. With every ounce of courage they possessed, they would endure this trial, holding onto the belief that once everything was over, things would be irrevocably changed.
As much as Angel wanted to take a shower to cleanse himself, time was not on his side. Instead, he hastily grabbed a bottle of rose water and splashed it onto his fur. The heady scent mingled with the lingering odor of alcohol, somewhat masking it and making it less noticeable. Thankfully, the dimly lit rooms of the brothel would help conceal his wounds from the client's view, but he still needed to present himself in a somewhat presentable manner.
He rummaged through his belongings and selected a pair of black leggings and a dark pink cold shoulder top. It was a more conservative outfit compared to what he wore for work, but given the circumstances, it was a safer choice. Perhaps the client might find pleasure in unwrapping a prize that appeared less willing, at least on the surface. Anything was better than showing up looking like he had just been in a brutal car crash, which would only fuel Val's abuse and insults about not living up to the studio's standards.
Inwardly, Angel seethed with resentment toward Val and the others involved in his current state. The damage inflicted upon him was a result of Valentino and Vox's ill-fated decision to experiment with a lust potion concocted by Velvet. If things weren't already terrible, the situation could have escalated further had Velvet been invited to join in. Her sadistic tendencies were well-known, and Angel shuddered at the thought of enduring even more severe physical injuries, potentially with broken bones.
He noticed his unsteady gait, a result of physical exhaustion and days of being deprived of sustenance. Even though he was already dead, the ritual of consuming food had become a formality in dealing with sinners. However, nourishment was the least of his concerns at that moment. Instead, he focused on texting Val, informing him of his imminent arrival. With a final glance at his reflection in the mirror, Angel left his room and slowly made his way towards the staircase, his body protesting with each step.
Cherri stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting patiently. Understanding the difficult journey that lay ahead for Angel, she offered her shoulder as support. Angel gratefully leaned on her, his weight partially borne by her presence. He could see the concern in Cherri's single, cycloptic eye, the unspoken desire to convince Angel that they didn't have to go through with this. Val had crossed a line, and it was time for him to face the repercussions of his actions. Yet, Cherri wisely refrained from arguing the point, no matter how much she longed to.
"I'll have one of my shadows follow you into the building," Alastor informed with a wicked grin spreading across his face. His crimson eyes gleamed with anticipation, and his voice carried a hint of mischief. "We will hear what is occurring upon your arrival."
Angel's eyes narrowed as he folded his arms, a mix of skepticism and defiance etched on his face. He locked his gaze with Alastor's, ready to challenge the demon's intentions. "Let me guess," Angel spoke, his voice laced with a hint of sarcasm. "The lot of you are going to storm the studio if things get ugly."
Cherri perked up at Angel's words, her eyes darting between Charlie and Vaggie, seeking confirmation. She wanted assurance that they wouldn't stand idly by if Angel's safety was at stake. Charlie, however, remained composed, her attention fixed on Angel. She understood the weight of the decision she had made, and she wanted it to be Angel's choice, not a decision made for his supposed well-being. She refused to impose a "it's for your own good" narrative upon him.
Husk, who was standing behind the bar with a half-empty bottle in his hand, looked up from his drink, a grumble escaping his lips. "Given this is one of the Vee's 'some,' of us likely will want to," he muttered with a mix of irritation and resignation. The prospect of a confrontation seemed to pique his interest, albeit begrudgingly.
"We won't be there unless you want us to," Charlie reassured, her voice filled with sincerity and understanding. She reached out and gently squeezed Angel's hand, offering reassurance in her touch. "But I want you to know that having someone there, even if it's just a presence in the shadows, could help us better understand what you're going through outside the safety of the hotel."
"Whatever you hear," Angel's voice held a tinge of resignation as he prepared to step through the portal that Alastor had conjured, revealing the ominous doors of the studio. His eyes locked onto the pacing figure of Valentino, his heart pounding with a mixture of anxiety and defiance. "You ain't gonna like it."
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Angel braced for the inevitable storm that awaited him. He knew that the truth, the harsh reality of his existence within the studio's walls, would be difficult for his friends back at the hotel to bear witness to. It was a part of his life he had kept hidden, shielding them from the darkest corners of his past.
As he crossed the threshold, Alastor swiftly closed the portal behind him, severing the connection between Angel and the safety of his chosen family. The separation sent a pang of uncertainty coursing through him, but there was no turning back now.
"Angel, there you are," Val grumbled when he caught sight of the Spider walking through the doors. "It's about time you showed up." Valentino's tone was laced with irritation as he crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing at his tardy employee.
"You think it's easy ta get here on short notice," Angel groused, his voice tinged with frustration. The weary Spider glanced over his shoulder, noticing Alastor's shadow minion trailing behind him, taking refuge in the darkness cast by a nearby decorative plant. He had a nagging reluctance to let Charlie and the others overhear their conversation, but perhaps it was time they knew what was truly going on. The constant control Val exerted over his life had worn thin, and he longed for the days when he had more autonomy. It had all changed since Nox's erasure, since that fateful night he was forced to sell his soul to Val.
"...on one of my rare days off, no less" Angel muttered, his tone laden with exhaustion and resentment.
"You look like shit that was dragged in from the street," Val sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. His piercing gaze scrutinized Angel from head to toe, a smug satisfaction curling the corners of his lips.
"What have I always said about you?" Val continued, his tone dripping with superiority. "This is a high-end establishment, and you're supposed to be the top product. And yet, you come here looking like the two-bit whore you used to be."
Valentino's words were meant to cut deep, to remind Angel of his past and the life he had left behind. It was a cruel way of asserting his control, using belittlement as a means to reinforce his dominance.
Angel clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides. Val's insults stung, awakening painful memories that he had fought hard to overcome. But he refused to let Val's words break him. Years of struggling and surviving had forged a resilience within him, a defiance that refused to be silenced.
A flicker of anger sparked in Angel's eyes, contrasting with the weariness that lingered beneath.
"What do you expect?" Angel said challengingly, his voice laced with defiance. If the other residents were going to hear what was happening outside the hotel, then he would make sure they heard it all. There was no more hiding, no more masking the truth. It was time for the hotel to witness the sort of monsters Val and Vox actually were.
"You and Vox practically assaulted me within an inch of bein' erased," Angel continued, his words laced with bitterness. The memories of the two of them ravaging him still lingered, fresh wounds that refused to heal. "Kept me locked up in a room, for God knows how many damn days. And then, like a piece of garbage, you sent me staggering out into that downpour."
"What do you expect?" Angel said challengingly, his voice laced with defiance. If the other residents were going to hear what was happening outside the hotel, then he would make sure they heard it all. There was no more hiding, no more masking the truth. It was time for the world to witness the consequences of Val and Vox's actions.
"You and Vox practically assaulted me within an inch of bein' erased," Angel continued, his words laced with bitterness. The memories of their betrayal still lingered, fresh wounds that refused to heal. "Kept me locked up in a room, trapped and suffocating, for God knows how many damn days. And then, like a piece of garbage, you sent me staggering out into that downpour."
His voice dripped with sarcasm, a bitter edge that conveyed the depth of his anger and pain. The rain, a mere metaphor for the torment he had endured, served as a stark reminder of the abuse he had suffered at their hands.
"You think I'd be able to instantly recover from that?" Angel's voice rose, his frustration spilling over. "Nuh uh…guess again."
The Spider's words were filled with raw emotion, a stark contrast to the usual flamboyance and charm he projected. It was a moment of vulnerability, where his true feelings came to the surface, unfiltered and unapologetic.
"If you had behaved yourself," Val growled, his voice filled with a venomous anger, as he roughly grabbed Angel's arm. His grip was tight, emphasizing his dominance over the Spider. "Voxxy and I wouldn't need to!"
Val's words were a sharp rebuke, an attempt to shift the blame onto Angel's shoulders. In his twisted worldview, Angel's actions were the root cause of the torment he had endured. He used his physical grasp as a means to exert control, a reminder of the power imbalance that existed between them.
Angel winced at Val's grip, a mixture of pain and resentment etching across his features. He was tired of being the scapegoat, tired of shouldering the blame for the chaos that surrounded them. The fire in his eyes intensified, fueled by a defiance that refused to be silenced.
"Don't you dare try to twist this around on me," Angel retorted, his voice sharp with indignation. "You and Vox made your choices, and I was just another pawn in your sick game."
Val's grip tightened even further, his anger intensifying. "You forget your place, Angel," he spat, his voice seething with rage. "You are nothing without me. Remember who saved you, who gave you purpose."
"Hey," Angel winced in pain as Valentino's hand squeezed tightly around a tender area on his bicep. The sharp discomfort shot through his body, causing him to grit his teeth. "Fuck…let go of me!"
His voice strained with both agony and frustration, Angel's plea was a desperate demand for Val to release his grip. The pain served as a reminder of the control Val still held over him, both physically and emotionally.
Valentino's grip remained unyielding, his face contorted with a mixture of anger and satisfaction. He derived a sick pleasure from exerting power over others, relishing in the pain he inflicted. The corners of his mouth curled into a cruel smile, as if reveling in Angel's vulnerability.
"If you didn't pull shit like speaking to your brother," Val said with a venomous edge to his voice, his grip tightening around Angel's arm before abruptly tossing him, causing him to sprawl across the cold, black motorargyrite slabs that composed the lobby floor. Angel winced as the impact sent a jolt of pain through his body.
"Or joining the Princesses Hotel without running it by me first," Val continued, his tone dripping with contempt. "Or even pulling stunts with that one-eyed girly friend of yours. Then maybe…maybe I wouldn't have to have you fuck your scrawny ass into submission!"
His words were cruel and laced with power, designed to assert his dominance over Angel once again. Val reveled in the control he wielded, taking pleasure in subjecting Angel to physical and emotional torment.
Angel clenched his jaw, his body throbbing with pain, but his spirit remained unbroken.
Val's face contorted with rage, his eyes narrowing into a menacing glare. "Don't you dare forget your place, Spider," he hissed, his voice filled with malice. "I own you, body and soul. And I can do whatever I want with you. Remember that!"
"No," Angel said, his voice filled with weariness. He had reached his limit, tired of enduring Val's torment. If redemption from his past deeds seemed out of reach, then the least he could do was let Charlie know the kind of hell he had endured. "I've never forgotten that deal you forced me into. It was a reminder of the memories from when I was alive."
Valentino's voice dripped with a sadistic amusement as he issued his command. His eyes gleamed with a twisted pleasure, reveling in the power he held over Angel. With a sickening grin, he taunted, "Now get on your knees and join me in the 'Pimps Prayer.'"
Angel's expression hardened, his gaze meeting Val's with defiance. He refused to give Val the satisfaction of breaking him further. Though the weight of their twisted relationship had burdened him for far too long, he would not submit to Val's demeaning request.
A fire burned within Angel, fueled by a desire to break free from Val's control and assert his own agency. He stood tall, refusing to be reduced to a submissive pawn in Val's sick game.
Charlie's hands instinctively covered her mouth as she listened in horror to the exchange between Valentino and Angel. Her heart sank, overwhelmed by the anguish and torment her friend had endured. Every word uttered was like a dagger to her soul, a painful reminder of the darkness Angel had faced.
As much as Charlie wanted to intervene, to stop the verbal assault and protect Angel from further harm, she knew she had to restrain herself. She understood the complexity of the situation and the potential consequences if she were to involve herself directly. With a heavy heart, Charlie took a deep breath, wiping away her tears and steeling herself. It was a painful sacrifice to remain distant, but she knew that it was the best course of action for now.
Valentino's voice rumbled with a mix of anger and frustration. The twisted pleasure he derived from exerting control over Angel was evident in the sharpness of his tone. "I said on your knees," he growled, his voice filled with a venomous command. "You think I enjoy this? Constantly having to keep you in line?! ON...YOUR...KNEES, NOW!"
Charlie's heart sank as Vaggie's gentle voice broke through the air, filled with concern and pleading. "Don't do it, Angel," Vaggie whispered softly, holding her lover in a comforting embrace. The weight of the situation was too much for Charlie to bear, and her shoulders shook with silent sobs. She didn't need to witness the scene firsthand; the anguish in Vaggie's voice painted a vivid picture in her mind.
A gasp of pain escaped Angel's lips as he was forcefully grabbed and coerced into a vulnerable position. Charlie's heart ached for him, knowing the pain he endured both physically and emotionally. The love she felt for him intensified, fueling her determination to bring him solace and freedom from the torment he faced.
Cherri, standing close by, seethed with fury at the sight unfolding before her. The bond between her and Angel ran deep, forged through shared experiences and unwavering loyalty. She clenched her fists, her anger burning like a wildfire, ready to unleash her wrath upon those who dared to harm her best friend.
Cherri's voice sliced through the tense air, filled with a mix of anger and determination. "Hey, Radio Demon," she demanded, her tone firm and unwavering. "Open another way to the studio. I am going to nuke that son-of-a..." Before she could finish her sentence, several sinister shadow tentacles swiftly coiled around the female cyclops, forcefully restraining her and preventing her from speaking or taking further action.
Alastor's chilling voice cut through the tension, his smirk widening as he addressed Cherri. "It might be best for you to remain quiet," he taunted, his tone laced with amusement. "No one likes interference during the dramatic climax."
Valentino's voice dripped with cold-hearted cruelty as he continued his sadistic charade. "Let us bow our heads," he commanded, his tone filled with a twisted sense of reverence. "Oh, great Asmodeus, Lord of Lust. Please pour your mercy upon the wretched soul of this whore, as I guide my hand and make it strong and sure so that they might learn a whore's place! Amen!"
A heavy silence hung in the air, the anticipation was palpable, and Charlie's heart pounded in her chest, overwhelmed by a mixture of horror and helplessness of what was to happen.
Then, in an instant, the silence was shattered by a sickening sound—the sharp impact of Val's hand striking flesh. Angel's cry of pain pierced the air, a heart-wrenching sound that sent a jolt of anguish through Charlie's entire being.
The room seemed to hold its breath, everyone in the hotel frozen in shock and disbelief at the brutal act unfolding before them. The reality of Angel's suffering settled heavily upon their hearts, fueling a fierce desire to end his torment and bring him the safety and solace he so desperately needed.
A surge of anger coursed through Cherri, her teeth gritted as her fury burned hotter than ever. The restraints may have held her back physically, but her spirit blazed with an unyielding determination to protect her best friend and put an end to this madness. Charlie's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms drawing blood.
Valentino's voice cut through the air, filled with a chilling mix of frustration and anger. "You see," he coldly asked, his tone dripping with disdain. "You think I wanted to have to do that?! Damn the shit you make me pull. Are we done here? Are you gonna actually do your fucking job, or do I have to force my hand again?"
Angel's voice trembled as he responded, a mix of resignation and suppressed anger lacing his words. "No sir," he replied, his tone heavy with a sense of defeat. It was a voice that carried the weight of countless abuses, echoing the anguish of a soul long accustomed to enduring the pain inflicted upon it.
It was in comparison to a dog that had learned the harsh lessons of mistreatment lingered in Angel's words, a stark reflection of the dehumanizing effect Valentino's control had had on him. Charlie's heart ached at the sound of Angel's response, a painful reminder of the scars he carried, both physical and emotional.
Valentino's voice dripped with impatience and disdain as he delivered his curt instructions. "Good," he said dismissively. "Now get your ass upstairs. You've been keeping our client waiting, thanks to all this bullshit! And fix your face while you're at it. I offer stars, not garbage."
Charlie's heart sank at the harshness in Val's words, her anguish deepening as she witnessed the way he continued to demean and belittle Angel. It was a painful reminder of the toxic dynamic that had entangled them, a constant reminder of the power imbalance and the dehumanizing treatment Angel endured.
Alastor severed the connection to the shadow that had trailed Angel into the studio, causing his smile to contort into a grimace that threatened to crack his teeth. A crimson aura emanated from his body, accompanied by the ominous hum of angry static. The grip of the shadows restraining Cherri was released, and she took in deep, furious breaths, resenting being compelled to stand idly by while Angel suffered. However, her anger gradually deflated as she reluctantly acknowledged the futility of her intervention.
"Isn't there a way?" Charlie questioned, her voice laced with hope and determination. "Isn't there a way to break a soul contract or neutralize Valentino's hold over Angel?" She yearned for a glimmer of possibility to emerge from this dark situation. She understood that all the souls in Hell had committed sins in their mortal lives, but she couldn't shake the belief that not all of them had done so willingly. And even if they knowingly indulged in cardinal sins, not all were deserving of eternal damnation. Perhaps her approach to the hotel was flawed; maybe she didn't comprehend her subjects as well as she thought she did.
Charlie had always been raised to believe that sin was a conscious choice, and if one could be convinced to change and embrace goodness, they could prove themselves worthy of redemption. Angel personified this ideal—he wasn't inherently evil, but he also wasn't entirely good. He existed in a gray area, struggling to recognize the positive aspects within himself. From the moment she laid eyes on him, Charlie sensed a dormant potential for goodness. She witnessed it in his tender care for Fat Nuggets, as though the little pig were his own child. Even during their initial conversation, he exuded hesitation and mistrust, understandable given his circumstances. But in those moments, she realized it had been far too long since anyone genuinely saw him or spoke to him with a sense of worth and value. And that was something he didn't know how to respond to.
Charlie's plea for a way to liberate Angel from Valentino's grasp stemmed from her belief in the capacity for change and the innate worth of every soul, even those lost in the depths of darkness.
"Forced or not," Alastor interjected with a tinge of regret in his voice. "Angel is entangled in a deal with Valentino, and that is a binding agreement that none of us can break."
"So, there's nothing we can do?" Vaggie inquired, her voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and concern. Charlie leaned her head into her lover's shoulder, seeking solace in their embrace.
"I never said that," Alastor explained, his tone laced with intrigue. "In this case, it appears Valentino assumes he holds absolute mastery over Angel. What he fails to realize is that he never had such control to begin with. Angel has endured not only pain inflicted by Valentino, but also by people who came before him, including members of Angel's own bloodline. Consequently, his soul has become malleable, bending to the will of those who seek to dominate others simply for the sake of surviving."
Alastor paused, his crimson eyes gleaming with a peculiar intensity. "If we can prove the family—yes, the family that you, my charming belle, are creating here in this very hotel—if we can demonstrate that this newfound bond is worth fighting for, then Angel may discover the strength within himself to break free from Valentino's grasp."
He fixed his gaze on Charlie, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face. "You my Charming Demon Belle and this "Jeune fille sans pitié" (Girl without Pity) who he has already befriended have the power to show him what genuine care and love can be. If we can appeal to the better qualities he possesses, the qualities he himself struggles to acknowledge, then perhaps he will find the resolve to liberate himself. It won't be easy, mind you, but nothing worthwhile ever is."
Alastor's words held a glimmer of hope, suggesting that there was still a chance to change Angel's path and free him from the clutches of Valentino. The challenge lay in proving to Angel that he was deserving of a different life—a life intertwined with the growing family within the hotel.