Alastor had to admit that the conversation could have gone better after suggesting involvement with the mob. It wasn't a group that he was fond of himself, but he understood that in order to grasp the mind of someone like Valentino, they needed to work with someone who had the understanding and experience of crime. However, Vaggie had been adamantly against the idea from the start. She believed that they should discourage sin, and associating themselves with organized crime would make their efforts look hypocritical. Cherri, on the other hand, remained quiet on the suggestion, but Alastor sensed her reluctance as well. It seemed that she wasn't fully open to the idea either.
Charlie, as always, took everyone's opinions into consideration. She recognized the potential value in cooperating with the mob, given their knowledge and connections, but she didn't want to resort to that as an immediate decision.
After the three girls had left, Alastor decided to take some time for himself. He quietly opened the doors to the bedroom, being careful not to disturb Angel, who was still deeply asleep and wouldn't wake for at least a couple more hours. Alastor picked up his book and pipe, settling down in a cozy armchair by the window, ready to enjoy his poetry.
As he delved into the pages, savoring the words and immersing himself in the vivid imagery, Alastor's mind wandered through the verses. He was little more than halfway through the hardback tome when he was abruptly interrupted by a groan emanating from the other room. The sound was unmistakably that of someone waking up from slumber, and it piqued Alastor's curiosity.
Setting his book and pipe aside, Alastor stood up, his elegant smile gracing his face as he made his way towards the source of the groan.
"Ah," Alastor greeted with a sly grin. "I was beginning to wonder when you would wake up, my effeminate fellow. You've been sleeping like the dead, quite literally." Angel shot him a sour look, but remained silent. Alastor continued, unfazed. "Hmm, is this petulant attitude you've adopted supposed to be an improvement over your more... shall we say, solicitous mannerisms? Apologies, my dear, but it seems this new facade fails to showcase your better qualities."
"Like you'd know what those are," Angel growled, his voice dripping with venom, as he forcefully threw back the blanket and began to rise from the bed. Determined to leave the room, he made his way towards the door, but an unexpected wave of pain and weakness washed over him. He instinctively grabbed onto one of the bedposts to steady himself.
The days of enduring Valentino's brutal treatment had taken their toll on him, leaving him unable to fully recover. The memories of Valentino's mocking words echoed in his mind: "Do you dream of the Radio Demon touching you? I bet you wish he could give you the satisfaction only I can provide."
The only respite he had experienced was the unconsciousness that had engulfed him in that alleyway, earlier that morning. It was only now, barely five in the evening, that he had awakened in his room at the hotel. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious this time, but finding himself in Alastor's living quarters certainly didn't put him at ease.
"Yes," Alastor replied, his voice calm and composed. A tight-lipped smile danced upon his face, although his gaze seemed momentarily averted towards the floor. "I suppose I don't. As much as it pains me to admit, it appears I may have misjudged you, my dear Angel."
Angel's guard went up immediately, his instincts warning him to be cautious. He hadn't expected such a response from the deer demon, and he wasn't about to let his guard down in case Alastor was attempting to deceive him or take advantage of the situation.
"I have been suspecting for some time now," Alastor commented, his voice tinged with a hint of concern. "It seems that Odious Moth has you under his control, my dear Angel. I've noticed the way you often pause, as if you're on the verge of revealing something to dear Charlie, only to restrain yourself and offer a convenient excuse or revert to your usual flippant candor. Tell me, do you truly possess so little trust for those who provide you shelter within these walls?"
Alastor's words hung in the air, an invitation for Angel to open up and share the burden he carried. There was a genuine curiosity in Alastor's tone, mixed with a touch of empathy. Whether Angel chose to confide in him or not, it was clear that the Radio Demon had recognized something amiss.
"You tell me, smiles," Angel challenged, his voice laced with bitterness. "Have you managed to survive and thrive in this place for as long as you have by openly placing your trust in others?!"
His words carried a sharp edge, reflecting the deep-rooted skepticism that had been ingrained within him over time. Angel had learned the hard way that trust could be a dangerous commodity, and he wasn't willing to easily let go of his guarded nature, even when faced with Alastor's unexpected concern.
"I don't have a reason to be on my guard as you seem to," Alastor calmly responded. "Most individuals are already well aware of my presence and find sufficient cause to fear my existence. Those who remain ignorant are either overly confident, completely unaware, or hold a position within Hell that shields them from considering me a threat. Interestingly enough... you don't fall into any of those categories. I must admit, it's a rather unique circumstance, as I haven't encountered anyone quite like you before."
There was a subtle curiosity in Alastor's voice, as if he found Angel's position intriguing. While acknowledging the disparity in their approaches to trust and self-preservation, Alastor seemed genuinely interested in understanding the reasons behind Angel's guarded nature.
"Lucky me," Angel grouched, his tone filled with sarcasm, as he began to stagger his way towards the exit. "I'm heading to my room for a damn shower. I don't need a repeat of Val chewing me out for showing up at the studio reeking like I just bathed in alcohol."
With an air of irritation, Angel emphasized his need for personal hygiene, indicating his intention to cleanse himself of the lingering scent of alcohol and the remnants of his previous encounters. His words carried a touch of frustration, reflecting the consequences he faced in his professional life when his appearance and odor didn't meet the expected standards.
"You can thank Husker for that," Alastor responded matter-of-factly. "He had to douse your injuries with vodka. I must say, you had quite a number of them. I'm rather surprised you were even able to move around this evening. When I stumbled upon you, you were nothing more than a wretched mess."
A hint of amusement danced in Alastor's voice as he recounted the events. He continued, "Charlie was quite concerned about your absence, and even more so when she followed me into that filthy alley. However, you needn't worry about Valentino for the next week. Our charming, demon belle, has acquired your time."
Alastor's words carried a mix of nonchalant observation and veiled concern for Angel's well-being. He revealed the extent of Angel's injuries and the circumstances that led to his rescue, highlighting the concern Charlie had shown. Additionally, he mentioned Charlie's intervention, providing a temporary reprieve from Valentino's influence.
"What...?" Angel asked, his voice laced with surprise. Confusion flickered across his face as he quickly pulled out his Hell Phone, desperately seeking confirmation for Alastor's unexpected statement. Scrolling through his messages, he stumbled upon a message from Valentino that confirmed Alastor's words.
'The Princess has purchased you for the week. Count yourself fortunate…I expect you to be at the studio once she's done with you.'
"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered under his breath, a hint of disbelief tingging his words.
"But..." Angel's voice trailed off as he struggled to process the bewildering news. It simply didn't make sense to him. What could Charlie possibly want from him? She knew very well that he wasn't interested in females, and she had Vaggie by her side, so why would she feel the need to seek his services?
His mind raced with questions, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "This makes no sense... Why would she..." Angel's voice trailed off again, his words unable to fully articulate his confusion and disbelief. The situation seemed utterly perplexing to him, leaving him grasping for answers that eluded him at that moment.
"Why indeed," Alastor responded, a knowing smile playing upon his lips. It was evident that he possessed more information about the situation than he let on. "Perhaps Charlie believed this was the only way to grant you some respite from your employer. After all, I highly doubt that Vox's insectile lover would be inclined to honor any requests for a vacation, especially considering his tendency to disregard your designated days off just to appease a client. And let's be honest, my dear, you do look like death warmed over... figuratively speaking, of course."
"I'm fine," Angel insisted, his voice carrying a hint of defensiveness. Without further delay, he turned away, attempting to distance himself from the conversation and the weight of the situation.
"So, what exactly was this 'Special Project' that Valentino spoke of?" Alastor inquired, his curiosity piqued. "Or is that just Valentino's way of labeling the moments he holds one of his workers captive?"
Angel paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he recalled Valentino's words. He couldn't deny the truth that Alastor had facilitated the transmission of that conversation to Charlie, meaning she was aware of what was transpiring outside the confines of the hotel. The realization settled upon him heavily, causing him to hesitate in his response.
"I..." Angel began, his words faltering as he wrestled with the decision of how much to reveal. He realized that divulging the full extent of his encounters with Valentino might not be the wisest choice at the moment. "One of Vox's cameras happened to catch a glimpse of us speaking the other morning. Despite the fact that we were simply having a conversation, he interpreted any association between us as a threat."
"I... see," Alastor said, his smile tightening with a flicker of anger. He detested those who would harm individuals of "fairer means." While he held a sense of gallantry towards women and children, there were times when he found certain men worthy of his regard. Like the street musician he once encountered, to whom he had tossed a coin in appreciation of their honest living. Angel, despite Alastor's overall lack of fondness for him, evoked a similar sentiment—a mixture of disdain and pity.
The deer demon contemplated the situation, connecting the dots based on the knowledge he had gathered while observing Angel. He understood why Angel had chosen to hedge what he knew of Alastor with Vaggie. Valentino's influence had intertwined the existences of people in this very hotel in complicated ways. Alastor recognized the greater dangers posed by Vox, with his various contraptions and tawdry devices peddled throughout the city. If Angel were to reveal any knowledge obtained from Vox, it would undoubtedly raise questions and potentially escalate the precarious situation they were already in.
"Why don't I have Niffty bring something up for you?" Alastor suggested, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You'll need your strength for whatever Charlie may require of you in the morning. In the meantime, you're welcome to use the bath I have here and give your injuries a proper soak. It might do you some good."
Angel's remark dripped with his signature brand of cheeky confidence, punctuated by a mischievous smile. He couldn't resist teasing Alastor, even in this moment of vulnerability and exhaustion.
"If you wanted to see me nude, Smiles," Angel retorted, a twinkle in his eye. "All you had to do was ask. Though I can't guarantee you'd be able to handle it."
His playful banter served as a reminder that, despite their complex dynamic, Angel still possessed his quick wit and unabashed self-assuredness.
"Angel…" Alastor growled dangerously, his voice dripping with a deadly edge. His face contorted into a murderous expression, and his eyes transformed into fierce red radio dials, pulsating with an ominous glow. "I would be careful about making such crass jokes in this room if I were you."
The atmosphere in the room grew tense as Alastor's presence filled the space, an unsettling mixture of charm and danger. He observed the Spider, noting the fear that danced in its eyes, its body language betraying its discomfort. Alastor's expression softened slightly, a sinister smile playing at the corners of his lips.
He couldn't help but wonder what Angel had expected by pushing his luck in such a manner. Did he crave the abuse, having grown accustomed to the hands of higher authorities striking him down? Or perhaps there was another ulterior motive behind his audacious behavior.
Alastor's mind churned with possibilities, analyzing Angel's actions and motivations. In this demonic world where manipulation and power struggles ran rampant, nothing was ever as it seemed. Alastor was well-versed in these games, a master of playing both sides, but he couldn't help but be intrigued by Angel's enigmatic intentions.
A dangerous glint flickered in Alastor's eyes as he contemplated the tangled web of Angel's plans. Whether it was a desperate plea for attention or a calculated move, Alastor knew one thing for certain: he had his own cards to play. And as the embodiment of radio waves, he had an ear for secrets and a knack for turning situations to his advantage.
With a theatrical sigh, Alastor relaxed his posture, letting the murderous aura dissipate, but the air remained charged with an underlying threat. As Angel watched, unsure of what Alastor's response would be, the charismatic demon knew that the game had just begun. He would play along, for now, biding his time until he could discern the true nature of Angel's machinations.
In the realm of demons, where power was everything and trust was scarce, Alastor relished in the anticipation of unraveling another devil's intentions. After all, what better way to feed his own insatiable hunger for chaos and manipulation than to dance with a puppet who believed they held the strings?
"Still can't make yah interested," Angel sighed, his voice laced with a tinge of disappointment. He turned away from Alastor and made his way towards the bathing room, his steps heavy with a mix of frustration and resignation. "Well, thanks for the use of the bath."
As the bathroom door closed behind him, the sound of water gushing from the tap seeped through the walls. Alastor remained standing, his mind swirling with thoughts. He couldn't help but ponder the Spider's reaction—the mixture of disappointment and relief that permeated his tone. It was as if Angel had expected Alastor to take up his solicitous offer, yet was simultaneously relieved that he hadn't.
Deciding it was best not to dwell on it too much, Alastor pushed the thoughts aside and strolled over to the phone. He reached out and dialed down to Charlie's office, his fingers dancing lightly across the rotary dial.
"Hello, my dear demon belle," Alastor greeted with a suave tone, his voice dripping with charm. "Could you have Niffty bring up some food, please? Yes, he woke up just moments ago and he is currently in the bath. I would suggest a light meal for now, perhaps some eggs and toast. That sort of thing."
As he listened to Charlie's response, Alastor's smile widened. "Yes, he has been informed that you have bought a week's worth of his time. Naturally, he was quite confused initially, but I assured him that it was for his own benefit. He'll appreciate the time off, or whatever you require of him, until he can return to that horrid studio."
With a sly chuckle, Alastor continued, "I'll make sure he is sent to his room once he's finished eating. After all, a well-fed and content spider is a much more cooperative spider, wouldn't you agree?"
Softly humming to himself, Alastor reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. He glanced at the time, noting that five minutes had passed since Angel had entered the bath. While he had suggested the Spider take a relaxing soak in the tub, Alastor knew that after such a duration, Angel would likely have started to prune.
Realizing it was time to interrupt the serene atmosphere of the bath, Alastor decided to inform Angel that a small meal was being prepared for him. It was only fair to give him a heads-up and allow him to get ready for it.
"Angel," Alastor said in his characteristic transantlantic voice, rapping on the door with his gloved hand. Silence greeted him, and he furrowed his brow in concern. He knocked again, a little louder this time, hoping for a response.
"Angel..." Alastor called out once more, but still, there was no answer. With a sigh, he decided to test the doorknob, and to his surprise, it turned easily in his grasp. Either the spider had no concerns about anyone entering, or he had become so accustomed to his privacy being invaded that it didn't matter anymore. Alastor chuckled softly at the thought.
As he entered the room, he was met with a wall of steam that filled the air, making it difficult to see clearly. The heat enveloped him, signaling that Angel liked his baths scorching hot. Or perhaps he was intentionally trying to boil himself, akin to the way Alastor's mother used to prepare crawdads back in the day. The notion amused him, even in this peculiar situation.
Through the misty haze, Alastor could discern Angel curled up in one corner of the claw-foot tub. The spider seemed to be deliberately trying to take up as little space as possible, his arms folded over the rim and his face nestled against his furry arms. His eyes appeared distant, lost in deep thought.
Closing the door behind him, the Radio Demon's trademark smile spread across his face as he approached his troubled colleague.
"Well, you seem to be enjoying yourself," Alastor commented with a hint of amusement, his voice cutting through the steam-filled room. Angel remained motionless, but there was a flicker of displeasure in his deep-pink eyes, indicating that the comment hadn't been appreciated.
"Anyway, there is a light meal on its way here," Alastor continued, his tone shifting to a more business-like manner. "I can imagine you must be hungry, considering who knows when you've eaten last." He paused for a moment, contemplating his next words. Previously, he would have made a jesting inquiry about semen being a source of daily nutrition, finding it amusing in his own twisted way. But given what he now knew about Angel's struggles, he realized such a comment wouldn't be as comical as it sounded in his head.
Removing his red suit jacket, Alastor neatly folded it and placed it on the floor beside Angel's discarded attire. With a purposeful stride, he grabbed a washcloth and knelt down beside the tub, his crimson eyes studying the troubled spider with an odd mix of curiosity and concern.
"I hope you don't take this as too forward, my dear fellow," Alastor inquired, his voice maintaining a polite tone as he began rolling up his sleeves. "Would you mind if I helped you wash your back?"
"I'm fine," Angel grumbled dismissively, his voice laced with a hint of irritation. His body, however, betrayed a defensive tension, evident in the way he held himself even in the midst of the warm water. The damp fur on his body seemed to stand on end, much like a cat's fur would when feeling threatened.
Alastor studied Angel for a moment, taking note of his defensive posture and the subtle signs of discomfort. He understood that the spider had built walls around himself, walls that were not easily penetrated. Alastor decided to respect Angel's boundaries, acknowledging that pushing further would only worsen the situation.
"All right then," Alastor said, his voice maintaining a composed tone. He understood that pushing further would only escalate the situation, and he had no desire to engage in an unnecessary argument. The mutual agreement to avoid any altercation was a welcomed resolution.
"It's good to see that you have the sense not to challenge those who are above your station," Alastor added, intending to acknowledge Angel's decision and perhaps inject a touch of sarcastic camaraderie. However, the words slipped out before he could fully consider their impact.
Unfortunately, the comment turned out to be the wrong thing to say. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly, charged with tension and anger. Angel's previously dismissive demeanor crumbled, replaced by a fierce glare that pierced through the steam.
"Don't flatter yourself," Angel challenged, his voice filled with defiance as he distanced himself from the edge of the tub. "You're powerful, I'll admit it, but you're still a half-baked Overlord who relies on public rumors to give yourself a reputation."
Alastor's lips curled into a faint smile, a mixture of amusement and acknowledgement. There weren't many demons who possessed the audacity to make such bold comments towards him, especially those who indulged in everyday sins. Yet, Angel Dust was known to push boundaries, often making snide remarks within earshot of the Deer Demon or jestfully offering provocative propositions just to see his reaction. Such insolence wouldn't go unpunished.
However, something gave Alastor pause. Despite the insult-laden comment, there was a palpable sense that Angel didn't truly desire a fight. It was as if he carried a burden that went beyond mere confrontations. It was as though he yearned for something deeper, perhaps even a release from a hidden misery.
Alastor's eyes widened as he witnessed Angel's shadow rising to a standing position, detached from his demonic form. Two ominous glowing red eyes appeared, casting an eerie aura. Yet, there was no overt threat in its posture. However, the sight provided Alastor with a better understanding of why Valentino had been so keen on having control over Angel.
The unexpected display of Angel's shadow sent a shiver down Alastor's spine, a subtle reminder of the depths of darkness that resided within the spider's being. It hinted at a hidden power, one that could potentially be harnessed or unleashed under certain circumstances. Alastor couldn't help but be intrigued by this revelation, recognizing the significance it held in the grand scheme of things.
"I suppose I'll just leave you to your bath then," Alastor said, a hint of curiosity still lingering in his voice. He let the unused washcloth slip from his grasp, allowing it to fall to the tiled floor. Retrieving his suit jacket, he swiftly put it back on and exited the room, closing the door behind him.
Once the door was closed, Alastor's red sclera eyes took on a look of intrigue, his mind abuzz with possibilities. Angel possessed untapped potential, an unrecognized power that lay dormant within him. It became evident why Valentino had been oppressive towards the spider, sensing or recognizing the potential threat Angel's power posed to his own status. This revelation also shed light on what might have attracted Charlie to Angel. The unharnessed abilities could be molded and shaped to serve a greater purpose, especially if Angel were to become aware of them and embrace his potential as an Overlord.
However, Alastor couldn't shake off the lingering concerns. If others were to discover Angel's hidden power, such individuals like Henroin, a powerful figure in Pentagram City, it could lead to dangerous consequences. Henroin, though not an Overlord himself, held considerable influence over parts of the city. If he became aware of Angel's potential as an Overlord, he might view the spider as a threat to his business organization or, worse yet, seek to exploit Angel's power for his own nefarious purposes.
Alastor's mind raced, considering the various paths this revelation could lead them down. The untapped power within Angel held the potential for great good if guided and controlled by the right hands, but in the wrong hands, it could bring about chaos and destruction.
Sleep eluded Angel that night, his body throbbing with the remnants of the abuse he had endured at the hands of Valentino and Vox. Every turn and twist caused a wave of pain to ripple through his bruised and battered form, the pressure against the firm mattress amplifying his discomfort. Though grateful to be back in his room, he longed for the comforting presence of Fat Nuggets. The little pig had likely been taken by Cherri, ensuring he received the care and attention he needed. Still, the absence of his beloved companion left him feeling lonely in the darkness.
Closing his eyes, Angel attempted to find solace in slumber, despite the persistent pain. However, his rest was plagued by haunting visions. Hands reached out to grasp him, accompanied by evil laughter that echoed through his mind. He cried out in agony, pleading for mercy, only to be met with more torment. These nightmares held him captive, preventing any respite he sought. Each time he sat up in bed, hoping to escape the torment, he was met with a surge of pain as his bruised muscles and flesh protested. It was a vicious cycle, his body aching and his mind plagued by the traumatic memories.
Eventually, he managed to find a semblance of comfort, curling onto a side that wasn't as agonizingly bruised. Just as he began to drift into a fragile state of slumber, a cautious knock at the door shattered the fragile peace. Another knock confirmed that morning had arrived, though it felt far too early for Angel's liking. With a frustrated groan, he begrudgingly acknowledged the disturbance, his exhausted and pained state making it difficult to muster any patience.
"Angel," Charlie's soft voice reached his ears, filled with concern. "I'm coming in." The sound of the doorknob turning and the door closing gently followed her words. In the dimly lit room, the blond princess made her way towards him, her footsteps barely audible.
No words were exchanged as Charlie knelt down by his bedside, her presence comforting in the midst of his pain. The room seemed to hold a quiet understanding between them, as if words were unnecessary in that moment. She simply wanted to be there for him, to offer her support and solace in any way she could.
Gently, Charlie reached out, her hand hovering near his, silently asking for permission to offer her touch as a form of comfort. Her expression held a mix of compassion and determination, ready to provide whatever he needed in that vulnerable moment.
Angel's voice was tinged with a hint of weariness as he asked, "Need me for something?" His usual playful tone was subdued, replaced by a sense of duty and obligation. In his line of work, Charlie was his client for the week, and that meant he was bound to fulfill her requests. He understood the importance of respecting her position as a client.
"Alastor told you about..." Charlie began, her voice trailing off as she hesitated.
Angel's confirmation hung in the air, acknowledging the nature of their professional arrangement. "Yes, I am yours to do with as you wish until this week is over," he affirmed, his voice holding a mix of acceptance and resignation. He understood the boundaries of their agreement and the role he played as her assigned companion.
"Here," Charlie said soothingly, her voice filled with compassion as she gently took hold of Angel's shoulder. "Let me help." With care and consideration, she assisted him in transitioning to a sitting position, mindful of his discomfort. The spider tensed noticeably, a reaction that didn't go unnoticed by Charlie, deepening her concern for his well-being.
"Are you all right?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine worry. Angel's uncertainty was palpable, as he grappled with the unfamiliarity of someone genuinely showing concern for him. It was a stark contrast to the harsh and indifferent treatment he often encountered in his line of work.
Angel paused for a moment, his gaze meeting Charlie's with a mix of vulnerability and surprise. He wasn't accustomed to being asked about his well-being, let alone having someone genuinely care. A mix of emotions swirled within him, causing him to hesitate before finally finding his voice.
"I've been better," Angel finally responded, his voice carrying a hint of resignation and weariness. He acknowledged the truth of his current state, both physically and emotionally. The lingering pain and the weight of his recent experiences had taken their toll on him, leaving him drained and far from his usual self.
Charlie nodded understandingly, her expression reflecting compassion and empathy. She recognized the honesty in his words.
"Does he..." Charlie's voice trailed off, her concern evident as she broached the topic. "Is this the first time he's done anything like this?" Her worry for Angel's well-being was palpable, as she sought to understand the extent of the abuse he had endured.
Angel's expression tightened as he hugged an arm around himself, a gesture that spoke volumes about the pain he had endured. Slowly, he shook his head, indicating that this wasn't the first time he had been subjected to Valentino's brutality. It was a solemn admission, revealing a pattern of abuse that had plagued him in the past.
"This was the first time he kept me at the studio," Angel Dust said, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.
"Your friend Cherri," Charlie explained, her voice filled with admiration. "She told Alastor, Vaggie, and myself about that time at the bar before you were employed by Valentino. She told us how you put yourself at risk for all those people."
Charlie's eyes sparkled with warmth as she recalled the tale. Cherri had painted a vivid picture of a courageous and selfless act, showcasing the depths of the person she now considered a dear friend.
"It was incredible," Charlie continued, her voice resonating with genuine admiration. "Cherri described how you fearlessly stood up against the danger, facing it head-on to protect those who couldn't defend themselves. She spoke of your unwavering resolve and the way you put your own safety on the line without a second thought."
"Lot of good that did," Angel Dust sighed, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness. "The majority of them were found and either ended up working for the Vee's or they were erased." There was a weariness in Angel's voice, a reflection of the harsh reality he had witnessed far too many times.
"Maybe so," Charlie said, her voice gentle yet firm. She looked at Angel Dust with unwavering sincerity. "But do you know how many demons would even do anything like that? Not many. That is a rare quality that most demons don't possess. It proves that I was right about you, Angel. You're good."
There was a quiet determination in Charlie's eyes as she spoke. She had always believed in the inherent goodness within every individual, regardless of their nature or past actions. And witnessing Angel's selfless act had reaffirmed her conviction.
"Hate to break it to yah," Angel Dust sighed, his voice tinged with a touch of resignation. "But I'm actually not the selfless hero you think I am. I didn't save those people out of some noble interest in protecting them. I did it because they were assets that I needed to help appease Pops."
There was a hint of bitterness in Angel's tone, a reflection of the complex web of motivations that drove his actions. He had always been a survivor, willing to do what it took to secure his own interests and maintain a semblance of control in the chaotic world he inhabited.
"I've always had to play the game, Charlie," Angel continued, his voice laced with a mix of weariness and a touch of vulnerability. "You think I do things out of the goodness of my heart? Nah, it's all about survival in this dog-eat-dog world we live in."
"Your father," Charlie said, her voice steady but gentle. "You mean Henroin?"
Angel Dust's reaction was immediate. His body went rigid, and a mix of surprise and unease flashed across his face. It was clear that Charlie's response had struck a chord deep within him, unraveling a part of his past that he had tried to keep hidden.
Angel's voice carried a mixture of curiosity and guardedness as he asked, "How did you know about him?"
Charlie met Angel's gaze with a gentle yet earnest expression. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, understanding the weight of her next words.
Charlie's eyes widened in surprise as she realized she had inadvertently revealed information that Angel had not expected her to know. She quickly caught herself, her voice carrying a touch of unease.
"Well, uh... it was through Alastor...," Charlie stumbled over her words, realizing that she had revealed more than she should have. "He saw and overheard you talking to someone, and Husk deduced it was Arackniss. Alastor had a recording of part of your conversation."
She shifted uncomfortably, aware that she had crossed a line in sharing these details. It was clear that Angel had not anticipated her knowledge of the situation, and she felt a pang of regret for overstepping.
Angel's frustration and annoyance were palpable as he let out a frustrated groan. "God... When I see Alastor, I am going to strangle him with a garrote," he muttered under his breath. "I was familiar enough with him following me to know he was nearby when Fratello showed up. You would think he'd have the sense to know that conversation wasn't to be spread around."
There was a mixture of anger and disappointment in Angel's voice as he expressed his frustration. He had expected Alastor, of all demons, to understand the importance of discretion and privacy. The fact that he had recorded and potentially shared parts of their conversation left Angel feeling betrayed and exposed.
Charlie's voice carried a mix of curiosity and concern as she sought clarification. "So, he knew you were part of this Black Hand group or society or whatever?" she asked, her brow furrowing slightly.
Charlie was trying to piece together the information she had learned from Alastor's recording and Angel's reactions. The mention of the Black Hand intrigued her, as it seemed to be a significant piece of Angel's past that he hadn't shared openly before.
Angel Dust's expression tightened, a flicker of guardedness crossing his features. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding.
Angel's voice held a mixture of weariness and vulnerability as he began to unravel more details about his family and their connection to a world he had left behind. Each word he spoke carried the weight of his experiences, the struggles he had faced, and the choices he had made to forge his own path.
"My family wasn't part of the Black Hand," Angel clarified, his tone tinged with a touch of bitterness. "But they weren't any better. Pops... he was a hard-hearted person who reveled in power and control. We were just one of the lesser gangs in New York, never recognized by the likes of the five families or given a seat in the Commission."
Angel's voice held a mix of resignation and disdain as he spoke of his father's ambitions and their failure to gain the recognition they desired. His family's position in the hierarchy of organized crime had always been a sore spot, one that had shaped his upbringing and influenced his own choices.
"Pops believed in fear over love, taking it to the extreme," Angel continued, his voice tinged with regret. "He wanted people to be terrified of our family, to know what we were capable of. My brother embraced 'The Life' more willingly than I did. It was what Pops expected, and there was no point in arguing."
There was a hint of sadness in Angel's tone as he described the dynamics within his family. The weight of expectations and the sense of duty had pushed him and his brother down different paths, shaping their roles within the family's operations.
"I played my part, too," Angel admitted, a touch of remorse coloring his words. "I won't deny that I've taken lives on various jobs. It was expected of me, being in the position I was in. I was seen as a hired thug, nothing more. But I also had other skills, more covert dealings. I learned to assess situations, gather information, and be aware of everything around me."
As Angel spoke, there was a glimpse of the strategic and analytical side of him, the survival instincts that had guided him through the treacherous world he had once been a part of.
"But when I ended up in Hell," Angel continued, a hint of determination in his voice, "I knew I had to leave it all behind. I carved out a new existence for myself, one that had nothing to do with the family and its values. I left it all behind, and I never looked back."
The weight of his past seemed to hang in the air, as Angel shared the complexities of his journey and the choices he had made to distance himself from his family. The significance of secrecy and the consequences it held were not lost on him.
"Despite leaving the family, I'm still seen as a Made Guy," Angel added, his voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and frustration. "Secrecy is paramount because there are things that can be said and done that can impact the family and others. That's why I was irritated with Al letting you hear that conversation I had with Arackniss."
Charlie's voice carried a sense of reassurance as she clarified the extent of the conversation that had been inadvertently revealed. She wanted to ease Angel's concerns and provide him with a clearer picture of what Alastor had shared.
"Just to clarify, Angel, we didn't hear the entire conversation," Charlie clarified, her tone gentle yet earnest. "It was only a snippet of your conversation with Arackniss, specifically when he was asking about your involvement with the hotel and you reassured him that you hadn't revealed anything about your family to anyone here."
She could sense the tension in Angel's expression, the weight of his past still looming over him. Charlie wanted to alleviate any worries he might have about the extent of the information that had been disclosed.
"Yeah, even that bit of information could cause some trouble," Angel acknowledged, his tone filled with caution. "But I suppose we could play it off as you figuring things out on your own, without explicitly mentioning my involvement. It might help mitigate some of the immediate issues, though we can't discount the potential consequences entirely."
Angel understood that navigating the complexities of their situation required careful planning and consideration. The unwanted attention they had garnered, beyond Valentino's watchful eye, presented its own set of challenges and risks.
"Ever since that interview you had a few months back," Angel continued, his voice tinged with some irritation, "my connection to your redemption hotel has been drawing unwanted attention. And it's not just from Valentino. There are other forces at play, and they don't have our best interests in mind."
Charlie's admission carried a heavy weight of regret and remorse. She had made a decision without fully understanding the potential consequences, hoping to find support and legitimacy for her redemption hotel. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she found solace in sitting on the floor, seeking comfort against Angel's bedside.
"I know," Charlie whispered, her voice filled with shame. "During that interview, things weren't going as I had hoped. I thought by mentioning your involvement, it might lend credibility to the cause, make others consider the possibilities. But I never imagined it would lead to all of this."
The weight of her mistakes hung heavily in the air, her heart burdened by the unintended consequences of her actions. Charlie's sincerity shone through, a genuine apology for the pain and difficulties that had arisen from her decision.
Her words sank into Angel's thoughts as he processed her genuine remorse. She hadn't known the full extent of what he faced, the dangers that lurked in the shadows of his past. And yet, he could feel the depth of her regret and her desire to make things right.
Silence filled the room for a moment as Angel reflected on Charlie's words. While her revelation had triggered a chain of events, he realized that even if she hadn't mentioned his involvement, Valentino and potentially his own father could have discovered his connection to the hotel eventually. In a way, her actions had bought him some temporary freedom from Valentino's grasp.
Angel's gaze softened as he looked at Charlie, understanding the complexities of the situation they found themselves in. He recognized the genuine remorse she felt and the earnest desire to rectify her mistakes.
Angel's voice carried a sense of determination and professionalism as he acknowledged the shift in their dynamic. He understood the gravity of the situation and wanted to show Charlie that he was committed to helping her in any way he could.
"Since you're my client for the week," Angel stated, his tone serious and focused, refraining from his usual tendency to turn everything into a joke. "Is there anything specific you need me to do?"
Charlie looked up, meeting Angel's gaze with a mixture of gratitude and understanding. She recognized that the issue at hand wasn't fully resolved, but for now, they were putting it aside to address her immediate needs. Rising to her feet, she faced the porn star, ready to discuss their plans.
Charlie's voice carried a firm and decisive tone, emphasizing the importance of Angel's well-being. She understood the significance of his injuries and the need for him to prioritize his recovery.
"Yes, about that," Charlie asserted, her voice filled with determination. "Angel, I require you to spend the day resting and allowing your injuries to heal. It's crucial that you give your body the time it needs to recover fully. When Cherri arrives at the hotel, I can send her up with some breakfast for you, and she can stay with you for as long as you both prefer. Other than that, I don't expect you to engage in any activities that would require you to leave this room. Is that understood?"
Her words held a mix of concern and authority, making it clear that she was looking out for his well-being. Charlie recognized the importance of allowing Angel the necessary time to heal, both physically and mentally.
"Capito, Sorella,(Understood, Sister)" Angel replied with a mischievous smirk, appreciating the familiar banter between them. He settled back into the comfort of his bed, ready to return to his slumber and allow his body to heal.
As Charlie made her way towards the door, she paused and glanced back at Angel, her gaze filled with a mixture of concern and affection. She understood the importance of giving him the space he needed, but her caring nature couldn't help but linger for a moment longer.
