For anyone reading this chapter, I humbly recommend that you read chapters 3, 6, and 7 of my supplementary fanfic Hazbin Devil Snippets and Short Stories. It will help provide context that I could not smoothly fit into the main story, and it will help you to understand this particular chapter.
It had been a full day after the shopping spree with Angel. The morning had gone by at a relatively mundane pace all throughout breakfast. Served a simple platter of bacon and eggs with cinnamon toast thanks to the efforts of Niffty, everyone had their own schedule to do.
Charlie was going to greet the first proper delivery of fresh food supplies to the hotel thanks to her private negotiations with a professional grower for another demon lord. Vaggie, as always, would be accompanying her on the condition that she retain a sense of civility in the case that scathing commentary was made Charlie's way regarding the hotel and its mission.
Niffty would continue racing about the hotel, keeping every inch As clean as possible. The struggle to maintain a sanitary hotel never seemed to end.
Husk, would return to his lonely vigil at the front desk, surrounded by booze and thinking of an opportunity to play cards in the hotel. If he played his own proverbial hand correctly, he might convince Charlie to allow for card games with the trade off of no money being on the line.
Angel was expected for a considerable volley of risqué video shoots. As usual, he flaunted his shameless thoughts about lust to the disgruntlement of nearly everyone present. Then he would flounce out of the hotel on a mission to avoid severing one of the roots of the sin that kept him in Hell.
Alastor was to keep to himself, seeing about a new, humorous skit on his personal frequency. He resorted to dad jokes when he was pressed for details, which successfully pressured everyone to let the matter go.
As for Jersey, he was the only one with no developed plan in the works for the day. He now possessed the clothes he had been desperately wanting for weeks, and nothing required his manual expertise. Under the circumstances, he would return to his room to take an inventory of his tools before either taking a nap, or finding someone in the hotel, besides Alastor, to have a conversation with. Jersey even hoped that he could find a proper location to use the new fishing rod he had purchased while hanging out with Cherri Bomb and Angel Dust.
This monotonous turn of events changed a few minutes after breakfast. Jersey received a most significant phone call when trying to walk back up the stairs to his room. It was his first client to his attempts to expand his electrician and plumbing services beyond the hotel.
Days ago, he had asked Charlie for help creating flyers for his independent business, which he i creatively called Jersey's Plumbing and Electrician Services. With the efforts of Razzle and Dazzle, some two dozen flyers had been posted around the general area, which was less than ten quarters miles of territory in Pentagram City. Jersey assumed that it would take some time before a serious call would be made genuinely requesting his talents. It had taken only five days for a proper request to be made.
Technically speaking, it was not the first call he had ever answered on his phone. Out of four previous calls, two were telemarketers, and another two were random sinners wanting to play tricks on him. In the grand scheme of things, Jersey supposed he was relatively fortunate that nothing seriously harmful had come his way.
This time however, it was a serious offer by a woman of rather high standing, if her aristocratic speech patterns were any indication. Unfortunately, the opportunity to receive an income outside of the hotel in a manner that was congruent with his journey to "redemption" was not so straightforward.
8:19 am
Walking around the corner of the lobby to get up the stairwell, Jersey was beginning his journey back up to his room. Things were getting into a lull at the Hazbin Hotel, so he decided to resign himself to resting in his bed. He hoped to find a fishing hole on a map application on his phone. That way, he could attempt to find a hobby to pass the time whenever he was not working. Hanging around the bar with Husk was becoming somewhat dull, and he had no managerial experience to help Charlie with her attempts to properly manage the budding hotel.
Helping Niffty with cleaning the hotel was out of the question. One, she would have been distracted by him and his "handsomeness" by her own words. Second, she was very particular in how she tidied up the place, and part of him feared what an angry Niffty would act like if he upset her hyper specific sensibilities.
The ascent up the stairs was interrupted by a mundane ringing tone from his Hellphone. It was apparently in fashion for Hellphones to sound like screams of agony, but Jersey turned that particular feature off for a very simple reason: it was unnerving and highly annoying at the same time.
"Hello?"
"Is this Jersey's Plumbing and Electrician Services?" The voice was that of a British woman, specifically one who belonged in Buckingham Palace as opposed to a farm in the north of England. Her tone had a certain, unnerving pleasantness about it, like a cat trying to gently coerce a canary to come down from its perch to within reach of its paws.
"Yes? Are you inquiring about my services?"
"Indeed! You see, some of the pipes in my business have become leaky as of late, and I have found previous plumbing services to not be... satisfactory... I was hoping you could remedy this problem."
Part of Jersey felt relieved that the call he was receiving had the rhetoric of an honest request for his services. Another part screamed for him to keep his guard up, for the manner in which the woman on the other end spoke reminded him of someone well practiced in the use of honeyed words to manipulate others. It was natural, given that his old master regularly enjoyed the company of such people, and tried to use promises of great rewards as justification for his cruelty. At last, he gave his response.
"I must admit that I am happy to hear your consideration. This is the first serious call I have received ever since I began this business."
The woman on the other end of the line gave a laugh so seamlessly genuine in its amusement that it almost eased the defensive thoughts in the back of Jersey's mind.
"I would think so!" The voice remarked. "Given that this is Hell, it is no wonder that there are some who are not interested in the talents of an industrious man like yourself. Am I to assume I would be your first proper customer?"
"Indeed so, ma'am. If I may ask, what material are your pipes made out of?"
"I do believe they are made out of a special type of iron. They are older than most pipe systems, I'm afraid. I am one to appreciate old fashioned things as you can imagine."
"Galvanized iron, I assume?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I do believe that is the nomenclature for that type of piping! You are quite the well read plumber are you not?"
"Well, I have been doing it for a long time." Jersey disclosed. "How many leaks have you found?"
"Four to be exact." The woman counted.
"Okay, and what is the address of your business, if I may dare ask?"
"I am the owner of an emporium on 1251 Bathory Street. It will be difficult to miss. When can I expect you?"
For a moment, the word Bathory sparked a sliver of curiosity in Jersey. He could have sworn that he knew something about that particular word from some story he had heard decades ago. For now, the understanding of that word's origins could not be remembered. Deciding that this train of thought could wait until later, Jersey decided to give a general timeframe.
"I should be able to arrive there by 10:30 at the latest." More than an hour and a half would surely be sufficient time to find the location of this business and arrive on time with the proper amount of piping to replace that which his client possessed.
"Marvelous! I'll be expecting you in a few hours then."
"Will do." Jersey replied. "Before I go, what is the name of my very first client?"
"Rosie, Mr. Jersey."
"Very well, Ms. Rosie. I shall arrive at 11:00 at the latest."
"I will be awaiting you, Mr. Jersey." The call ended, and Jersey allowed a genuine smile, as well as a small feeling of accomplishment.
"Finally had a fruitful call, eh?" Came a familiar, static laden voice.
Jersey nearly jumped in surprise to see Alastor on his right. The sight of his sharp, yellow teeth and hellish eyes put Jersey on edge.
"Should I be concerned that you were eavesdropping?" Jersey asked in a defensive tone.
"Eavesdropping?" Alastor regarded. "Perish the thought, my good fellow! I was simply about to return to my own quarters, just as you were, and I could not help but overhear your conversation."
"Right..." Jersey's green eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"Correct me if I heard you wrong, but did you just say the name Ms. Rosie?"
"Yes... do you know this Rosie?"
"Indeed I do!" Alastor proclaimed happily. "She's an old friend of mine as a fellow sinner down in this pit we now call home! We have quite a bit in common, you know."
This admission immediately soured Jersey's contentment in having his first customer. The last thing he needed was another predatory individual like Alastor keeping their evil-looking gazes pointed in his direction. It felt like as unsettling as being a rabbit underneath the glaring eye of a falcon.
"I see..."
"Oh come now, Jersey." Alastor assured, vigorously putting an arm around the handyman. The touch of his thin hand on Jersey's shoulder was as alarming as having a scorpion crawling on one's exposed foot.
Alastor continued his tangent. "I can vouch that Rosie is a polite and professional businesswoman who would never betray your confidence, especially if she's contacted you for your services in either electrical or plumbing-related ventures."
"How-"
"Your advertisements throughout this corner of the Pentagram, my friend." Alastor explained easily.
"Oh..." Jersey twisted out of the unnerving embrace of the Radio Demon and stepped back to maintain some distance from the man.
"Since you are relatively new here in Hell, shall I give you directions to where Rosie's Emporium is?" Alastor offered with an extended hand.
Jersey quickly gave the question some thought. It was a relatively harmless offer, though he was rather certain that a cab driver could surely drop him off in the general vicinity.
"I think a cab driver would know the directions," Jersey answered, keeping his hands firmly at his sides, "but I would like to know about what the area is like. She said her emporium was located at 1251 Bathory Street, and I could have sworn that the word Bathory sounded familiar..."
Alastor pulled back his hand, his back straightening as he answered the handyman's query. "Ah! Countess Bathory is where that name comes from. She bathed in the blood of her servants to try and remain youthful, or so the story goes."
Jersey paled a bit at that revelation. He knew that the word was loosely associated with blood, but it was muddled by a lack of recollection. "Is it a place filled with vampires?" For a brief moment, he worried that he sounded ridiculous asking such a question.
Alastor's reaction was not to act perplexed. Instead, he gave a forthcoming, albeit disturbing answer. "No, but it is in the heart of Cannibal Colony."
Upon hearing this, Jersey's lips pressed into a tense, fine line. He had seen and heard of all kinds of terrible and excessively depraved actions, but he never conceived of going to work in what sounded like an entire district filled with cannibals. "Do you think Rosie would eat me?"
"Not unless you overcharge her for a poor job done." Alastor answered as if it were completely obvious. "She's a businesswoman. If she simply ate everyone who dared to enter the front doors of her business, she'd never make a profit. Are you afraid that you'll wind up on someone's plate, my cautious fellow?"
"Oh yes, because it's a completely irrational fear that I might be butchered for someone's lunch in an area explicitly named for its cannibalistic population." Jersey snarked back.
"Oh calm yourself. Not everyone in Cannibal Colony is so crude and vicious." Alastor chided. "I could accompany you to ensure no one bothers you." Once more, he extended a hand.
Now Jersey was on high alert. It seemed awfully coincidental that the one person whom he tried to avoid most often was trying to be within arms reach for an extended period of time. The relationship between Alastor and Rosie was another red flag. As paranoid as it seemed, it did not look outside the realm of possibility that Alastor, a "deal maker of pure evil" according to Vaggie, was trying to maneuver himself so that he could make a deal with him.
Jersey did not fully understand the finer details of how dangerous it was, but one conversation that he had with Vaggie implied that being indebted to an Overlord was a terrible idea. Frankly speaking, Jersey had no tolerance for any ventures and agreements that might end with him as a servant to someone else, especially an individual as powerful and outwardly insidious as Alastor. It was best to kill this potential scheme in its crib.
"I think I can manage." Jersey replied evenly. "I'm humbled that you would go out of your way for a simple handyman like myself."
"Don't be so modest." Alastor insisted, unperturbed by the courteously indirect rejection. "You are much more than what you may think. I am quite the judge of talent Jersey, and I know an exceptional individual when I see one."
Jersey responded with a practiced grin of appreciation. "I always say that it's important to manage your ego. If it is all the same to you, I would like to keep myself feeling and acting modest."
Alastor's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "Wise beyond your years, are you?" A moment of tension seemed to rise before Alastor strutted away with a shrug. "Very well. I do wish you well as you enter Cannibal Colony, my friend."
As the Radio Demon walked up the steps to head towards his personal quarters, Jersey maintained a look of suspicion from behind the intimidating entertainer.
"How kind of you..." Jersey muttered to himself.
Before Jersey could depart the Hazbin Hotel to perform a plumbing job for his first non-hotel client, there was a logistics problem he had to address: PVC piping.
Galvanized iron pipes were not that reliable as a means of transporting water in a building. The years would wear them down, with rusting becoming so severe that it constituted an obvious threat to health. This did not even address the problems caused by leaks, which could include water damage and the conditions necessary for mold to form. Most galvanized pipes were replaced with PVC piping. It was light, relatively cheap, but also reliable, with none of the usual limitations of metal piping.
It had been a while since he had performed a replacement job for galvanized iron pipes, but Jersey had the necessary equipment, and knew the general process well. The only independent factor in such tasks related to the size and the configuration of the pipes in question. However, unless he wanted to make a return trip to the hotel to gather the necessary PVC sections to replace the old pipes, Jersey would have to find an efficient way to move the pipes across what was likely a considerable distance.
Packing the pipes into a duffel bag was unlikely to work if he had to replace an especially large and multi-branched piece of piping. It made Jersey thankful that he could still use his powers to place magic seals onto objects. Using his mind, he could focus on an object with a magic seal and summon it via a magic circle into his hand. The only practical solution was to put a magic seal on multiple PVC pipes and the sealant container.
Jersey quickly went to work meticulously placing the seals all over every PVC pipe within storage at a back room behind where the kitchen was located. It was tedious, but it was going to be easy in the long run if he wanted to take care of his upcoming job in a timely fashion. Given that he would be doing a job for an alleged cannibal, it was best that Jersey keep the job as short as possible.
'I sure as Hell don't trust any vouching from Alastor.' Jersey thought cynically.
After thirty long minutes of placing magic seals onto every PVC pipe he could find, he went upstairs to his room to dress himself appropriately for work. It was an ensemble of clothes that were exactly like the tattered dressings he was wearing when he first arrived in Pentagram City. It made sense, for Jersey's nondescript black shirt could hide his sweat stains, the jeans could minimize scrapes on his legs, and his heavy duty tennis shoes could minimize injuries to his feet, which meant his body spent less of his energy healing potentially broken toes. Alongside a tool box that was reconfigure to hold all of the necessary tools for a plumbing job, Jersey was ready to head on to perform his manual services for the woman named 'Rosie.'
As he once promised to Charlie, Jersey signed onto a sheet that he would be out of the Hazbin Hotel. He marked the appropriate time of 9:46, and departed with only a passing 'see you later' to Husk, who was once again stationed at the front desk with a bottle of booze in his paw. Jersey called for a cab to take him to 1251 Bathory Street in short order, and he departed Fallen Eden Avenue with a sense of anxious normalcy.
10:12 am, the corner of Donner Way and Manson Street
"Get out here." The cab had stopped more than a mile's distance from the destination of Rosie's business.
"But we aren't even five minutes away." Jersey pointed out.
"I know. I've driven through Cannibal Colony before. Not gonna make that mistake again." The latter statement was spoken with harsh finality.
"That's comforting." Jersey muttered sarcastically, getting out of the cab with his toolbox in hand.
The appropriate sum of money for the trip was handed over, and with a cynical wishing of good luck from the hairy cab driver, Jersey was standing alone on a street corner.
He was greeted with hardly a person in sight, but he did have confirmation that he was in the right place. Screwed into place on an old fashioned street light was a shiny, metal plaque with a fanciful font that read, "Now Entering Cannibal Cove." Beyond this sign, it looked as if Jersey was about to step into a world that was a century back in time.
Most of the buildings looked more natural on a street anywhere from the Victorian age to the Roaring Twenties. Shops and other businesses could be seen sporting colorful overhangs and a myriad of relatively normal merchandise on sale. The red sky of Hell was still present, but if Jersey was ignorant (as well as colorblind) he could have sworn he was in a normal, even quaint looking town.
There was however, an unsettling aspect to Cannibal Cove.
Everything was very clean. Tall trees, pristine sidewalks, and sparkling shopfronts were in stark contrast to most of what Jersey had seen as a normal aesthetic in Hell. Even the street was free of garbage, animal droppings, or even the tiniest skid mark from a car's wheels. The latter detail was especially odd given that a 1920 Ford Model T was parked next to the sidewalk on the street just opposite him. All the same, this sanitized surface of Cannibal Cove could not hide one sensation that put Jersey on edge: the stench of blood.
It was not overwhelming, given that he could not see a single stain of spilled lifeblood anywhere, but it was present. Jersey would describe it as being a mile away from a full blown massacre. The cleanliness of the area was but an impressively opaque sheen to cover the surface of a community that happily partook in butchery, just like any seedy neighborhood in Pentagram City.
What made it worse was that this community killed for food, and that thought made Jersey's stomach clench ever so slightly.
Tentatively, he stepped into Cannibal Cove, keeping an eye out for Bathory Street. So far, he was on Donner Way, and he still had over fifteen minutes to find Rosie's address. Jersey permitted himself to observe the eerily quiet setting he was walking through.
Part of him realized that he had traveled through part of this area before. He could see that a barber shop, on a road called Fleet Street, looked exactly like the barber shop he once passed on his first day in Hell. It was standing in good order, albeit on an apparently slow day, as the only person inside, assumedly the owner, was busy sharpening a simple razor.
The barber shop was not the only sight that he vaguely remembered from his first weary trip to find a hotel several weeks ago. A flower store and an ordinary pawn shop also sparked recollections in his mind. The sheer volume of sights in Pentagram City likely watered down his overall perception of fine detail.
Assuming that this was true, Jersey could not help but mentally scold himself for two reasons. Firstly, he had passed through an unsettling and likely dangerous part of town without a care in the world on his first day. Secondly, he reminded himself to do a better job of analyzing his surroundings even when dropped into strange situations cold.
'If it weren't for the smell of blood, this place would almost be cozy. It's a shame that it looks so empty, and that everyone here is a flesh eating creep.' Jersey wondered to himself.
The more that he walked, the more that he could see other demons about, many of whom were dressed rather finely. The atmosphere began to feel like a parish in a city at the turn of the 20th century, albeit one where everyone was already condemned for terrible sins and where no local church existed. Jersey found himself stopping at a place called Tarrare Square. There were no roadways for cars to enter; instead, several walkways led people past a small garden to an area with multiple restaurants and clubs. Given Jersey's current mission and the fact that he was located in an area populated with cannibals, he was not interest in eating anything.
Time was starting to run short, and he was not looking forward to having to explain why he had not arrived on time.
"Well, well..."
Jersey turned about to see one of the local women sauntering up to him. She was a cycloptic demon with a lean, curvy figure in a green spring dress. Her skin was pale, a red, forked tail loped behind her through a specially made hole through the back of her dress, and two horns sprouted up from her reddish brown curls. On her face was a sharp grin that rivaled that of Niffty and Cherri. She walked around the handyman in a circle, looking at him up and down with a single eye with a heart shaped pupil. There was a combination of hunger and even infatuation in her eye.
"My my, never seen you before, handsome." Her voice was like that of a southern belle: overly charming and with a slight hint of condescension. Though she cleaned up nicely, her teeth were partially stained pink with blood.
Jersey kept his cool. "I've only been in Hell for a few weeks. You wouldn't mind giving me some directions, would you?"
The woman sauntered up to within arm's reach of Jersey. Her one eye fluttered as she continued her charm offensive. "Well, I certainly wouldn't mind directing you back to my abode. You're so good lookin', I could just... eat you up..." It seemed as though an unnerving pressure was radiating from her, and her grinning mouth began to stretch to a terrifying degree.
The dip in her voice put Jersey on edge, with every silent instinct pushing him to resort with force to incapacitate this carnivorous stranger. Lowering a hand behind his back, he hid the fact that he had summoned his claw hammer into his grip with a magic circle. Depending on how the cannibal demon reacted to his next question, he would not hesitate to smash her prickly teeth to bits with one swing.
"How do you think Rosie would act knowing that you ate the man she hired to fix the plumbing problems affecting her business?"
The woman, who was about to lean in dangerously close to Jersey, stopped in her tracks. The dangerous air around her rapidly vanished. Her toothy grin faltered, and she blinked in realization. "You know Rosie?"
"Yes. She called me to help with several leaks at her business. Would you mind showing me where her business is?"
"Yes." The change in her speech from a murderously seductive purr to a mildly nervous tone was mildly amusing. "If you leave the Square and head north, you'll find Bathory Street. Rosie's Emporium is at the heart of the street. You can't miss it, sir."
Jersey relaxed his grip on his claw hammer. He gave the cannibal a tense, Cheshire-like grin of appreciation. "Thank you." Soon, he speed-walked away from Terrare Square, heading in the direction the woman had given to him.
Out of the square, he found that he was on Udre Road. It was not the place where Rosie's business would be located, but there was a crosswalk and an alleyway that led to another street across the way. Grateful that the drivers in Cannibal Colony are not as reckless as those in the rest of Pentagram City, he jogged over the crosswalk and made his way quickly to another street that finally had what he was looking for.
Bathory Street was a center of important buildings and centers of the arts. A post office and an old fashioned movie theatre were in Jersey's immediate eyesight, and the road terminated just on the edge of his periphery to the left. His ultimate destination could only be located down the street to his right.
Walking with purpose, he smoothly weaved around individuals and small groups of demons who frequently planted their unnerving gazes in his direction, as if a predatory instinct had been momentarily activated. Thankfully, none of them bothered to pursue Jersey.
Better yet, he found Rosie's business.
On the opposite side of the road, two hundred paces from the alleyway that Jersey walked out of, stood a broad and grand looking building with a blood red roof. It was primarily made up of bricks, with a garnet trim at the ground level. Simplified, doric columns held up a larger upper floor which sported a balcony with a red and white striped storefront awning. At the front of the balcony was a sign: Franklin and Rosie's Emporium.
One confusing aspect of the sign was that the name Franklin had been crossed out with a black streak of what was likely permanent ink. It foretold the end of the professional relationship Rosie had with this associate.
'Did Rosie have a business partner?' Jersey thought, not certain if this Franklin character had been eaten, fired, or subjected to any number of fates.
Walking forward with a cautious look both ways down the street, he noticed that the outside was lit with antiquated gas lamps that had an eerie blue glass with which their light passed through. The tall pair of doors before him were made of a sturdy, dark wood. Their centers had been artfully constructed to look like the mangled spires of a cast iron gate beneath a gnarled pair of branches with the backdrop of a sunrise as seen through the smoke of a burning forest. The door handles, long and sharply arcing like two shallow letter 'C's, looked like the slit eyes of a blue eyed snake or cat.
Standing before this frightening entrance, Jersey checked the time. It was 10:28, just in time. Now all that was left was to get inside, introduce himself to his client, and ironically pray that this was not a ruse to be eaten.
Looking to his left, Jersey saw a red button. Tentatively, he pressed it, and nearly jumped at the loud chime that was the doorbell. A few seconds went by, with only the sounds of a moderately busy street filling the air. Then, with a click, one of the doors opened, and a tall woman stood in the doorway.
Stop her head was a broad, red sun hat with a pink trim. The cap at the center of the hat was decorated with miniature skulls, black flowers made of folded cloth, and bold red feathers that belonged to some exotic tropical bird.
Her dress was Victorian, its bodice and sleeves colored a mute red. Her full skirt, which reached down to just half an inch over the ground was a grayish rouge for the top two thirds of its length; what remained of the skirt's fabric became increasingly darker in shade, until three rings of silvery gray broke up the monotonous color of the dress at the last four to eight inches before it reached the bottom. The fabric that made up two portions of the bodice which covered her shoulders and part of her collarbone was the same color as the top of her skirt. The ends of her sleeves and the lace collar which reached up to her jawline were black as pitch.
Then, there was the woman's heart-shaped face. Her skin looked as smooth as ivory, but it was not completely pale, more akin to a mixture of porcelain and salmon pink. Her hair, a mix of platinum blond and grayish rouge, was short, with one prominent bang and two hook-like locks of hair curling forward, one over each of her temples.
It was the eyes that were most intimidating to Jersey. They lacked even pupils, instead looking like two, large, feminine caverns into an inescapable abyss. For a moment, Jersey was legitimately paralyzed by how utterly black her eyes were. Not even most variations of black paint could swallow up light as completely as this woman's orbits.
Beneath the woman's eyes were a petite nose and a smiling mouth full of sharp teeth. Unlike the teeth of most other sinners, these teeth were relatively pristine, still sporting a whiteness that would impress the average dentist.
Altogether, the woman was beautiful, yet her appearance was equally frightful and dangerous. All the same, Jersey would do his best to act like a professional. He quickly set about mentally preparing his statement towards the woman whom he assumed was Rosie.
The woman's voice, like that of a British aristocrat, was clear, and almost velvety to the ear. It snapped Jersey out of his stunned manner at the sight of her eyes.
"May I help you, sir?"
Raising his chin and giving a nod, Jersey asked the obvious. "Are you Ms. Rosie?"
"Indeed." She gave a curtsy towards the handyman. "To whom do I owe the pleasure of meeting outside my establishment?"
"Jersey, ma'am." Jersey gave a modest bow at the waist. "I believe you called me earlier this morning. You had four leaks in your business' pipes."
A look of realization passed over Rosie's face. "Ah! I remember now. Please, come in." She stepped back and out of the doorway, beckoning Jersey inside.
Walking in, Jersey was struck by the somewhat spooky atmosphere of the emporium. It was dimly lit, and composed with cream colored walls and blood red carpet floors. with lanterns illuminating the indoor area. Much of the merchandise was categorized by whatever common characteristics that were shared between products. An entire area was dedicated to furniture and art, clothes were divided between men's and women's sections, and there was a miscellaneous section for everything from ashtrays to water goblets. Most of the objects were old fashioned, with the most contemporary items on sale being no younger than eighty years in age. It was a grand time capsule of antiques and goods that had long been out of normal circulation.
Even the air seemed ancient. Jersey could not help but put his claw hammer through a belt loop on his right side to free up a hand to fan himself. Following Rosie, he passed through a side door near the check out area.
Within this back room area was a 19th century icebox. On a table opposite the doorway, a demonic variation of an old fashioned expresso machine and an equally old automatic tea maker were present. A platter with area set stood grandly on a small round table, which was surrounded by three beautifully constructed wooden chairs. It was clear that this was a break room, though Jersey had not noticed any other employees at the emporium.
Rosie reached into a tall cabinet and grabbed a spare lantern. She lit it with a wooden match before she reached down and opened a cellar door in the corner of the break room.
"Follow me, Mr. Jersey."
Still bracing himself for the possibility that this might be a ruse to have him incapacitated and eaten, Jersey followed Rosie down a flight of stairs barely fourteen inches across to a dark room. Jersey could clearly see that it was a barren area which housed the plumbing for the business and nothing else. There was also a collection of buckets left to catch dripping water in close proximity to each other. They were already one quarter full, assuming that they had been emptied earlier in the morning.
Facing the right side of the stairs was an onerous and badly rusted pipe of galvanized iron. Eight feet across, it had a handful of smaller pipes that were only nominally in better condition. They branched off and reached upwards towards sources of waste water, namely the bathrooms that Rosie's business would have.
In the corner, near the end of the stairwell, a lonely water valve stood, the source of the emporium's water. This was what Jersey had to work with.
"So, what is your assessment, Mr. Jersey?" Rosie asked, clearly wanting to move straight to business. She had tucked herself in the corner, away from the reach of the water.
"Just permit me a few minutes, Ms. Rosie," Jersey replied, "and please, call me Jersey."
The light coming from Rosie's lantern was too dim for anything of note to be seen by the naked eye. Thus, Jersey put down his tool kit and brought up a tiny flashlight no longer than his middle finger. The light was less for himself, and more for his finely dressed witness, as he could see detail in even the darkest crawl space. The strong light in Jersey's hand revealed the extent of the rusting on the pipe before him.
The length of the pipe was covered in reddish, bumpy protrusions. Some of the lumps of corroded and oxidized iron were so profoundly deformed that they looked like lipomas on the skin of a elephant that had been heavily dusted with paprika. In short order, he found the four areas where water was dripping down. The pipe had likely been leaking for at least a week by Jersey's estimation. It was only by the fact that the four holes in the main pipe were smaller than the eye of a needle that prevented the flooding from being worse.
"I have to say, this is one of the worst looking pipes I have seen in decades."
Rosie let out a small sigh in frustration. "That is what the last two plumbers said. They refused to do anything about it, saying it was too big of a task. I dealt with them... accordingly for wasting my time."
Jersey tensed a little at Rosie's words. They were more than just a recollection of past assessments. If he wanted to avoid any... unwanted attempts of predation, he would have to do his best.
It was a damn good thing he had done more onerous jobs before.
"Well, first things first, I'm gonna have to completely replace this apparatus."
Rosie was silent for a moment. "I was afraid of that. I've always been one to appreciate old fashioned things. It hurts that one such antique is detrimental to my business."
"I'm afraid that's the way it will have to be, Ms. Rosie. Galvanized iron pipes just aren't great for long term plumbing. Iron rusts, after all."
"I know." Rosie conceded. "So, how will you do it?"
Jersey continued to highlight the pipe, placing the flashlight in his mouth while bringing out a thick pencil and a measuring tape. Measuring out roughly five inches away from the first bend in the large pipe, he scribbled a dark line on one side. He then performed the same action for the other bend in the largest pipe. After freeing his mouth to speak, Jersey explained his plan.
"I'm going to take a saw and cut out a massive section of this big pipe on each side. Then I'll deconstruct the other pipes since their condition is hardly better. Then, I'm going to replace this whole thing with PVC pipes."
"PVC?"
"It stands for polyvinyl chloride. It's a hard plastic that is used for modern plumbing. It doesn't corrode, and it handles fast moving water and high pressure just as well as copper pipes. It's also lightweight for its thickness."
Rosie understood, but was visibly disappointed that her old pipes had to be replaced with a modern commodity. "I assume there is no means by which to replace these pipes with new ones of the same material?"
"It could be done, but it would be more timely and expensive. I know it may not be ideal in terms of your personal preference ma'am, but it will do an even better job than these pipes ever did. Plus, it will be easier for me to install and easier on your pocketbook, Ms. Rosie."
"Money is no issue, Jersey." Rosie closed her eyes and nodded sagely. "Whatever it takes to fix this problem, do it."
"Can do." Jersey nodded "I'll have to turn off the water supply while I'm dismantling this thing, so if your customers have to use the restroom, they will have to go somewhere else. Are you prepared for that?"
"Yes." Rosie answered, placing the lantern down at the foot of the steps to keep Jersey's dark workspace somewhat lit. "I leave this task in your capable hands."
"I won't disappoint."
"I should hope so..." Rosie regarded, her proclamation chilly in its tone. She left the cellar, walking slowly back up the stairs to the break room with the front of her dress bunched up in on of her dainty hands.
Jersey immediately turned off the water supply valve. Shortly thereafter, he brought out a small bag with a clear plastic sheet and unfurled it out beneath the pipe apparatus. This was to keep any water from pooling onto the floor during the removal process. With that taken care of, he reached into his tool kit to grab a collapsible reciprocating saw with a diamond edged blade. Looking over the extent of the job he had to do, Jersey could only think of one thing: it felt good to be back at work.
"Time to cut this old bastard open." He remarked with a grin. The saw came to life with a high pitched whirring sound, and he stepped forth to tackle the pipe.
Twenty minutes later...
Rosie was busy at the check out, finalizing the purchase of a lamp. Even when her business was undergoing a major construction event, things continued to move at a steady pace. It was at least fortunate that a few customers arrived at this time of day.
She supposed that sooner or later, she would try to check up on Jersey's progress with her plumbing. An idea came into mind.
Reaching under her counter, she brought up a small bell. She rang it, and its bright sound reverberated throughout the store. Moments later, a shadowy familiar with red eyes strutted forth to Rosie with a bow and a malicious grin. Male in appearance, this creature and a form dressed in a dapper suit and bowler hat.
"Douglas, I need you to check up on a man currently working on the leakage problem downstairs. He is not to be interrupted."
Douglas bowed with a reverent growl. He then stalked off to the break room to do his master's bidding.
Rosie continued to do her part working. All the same, she pondered about the circumstances of Jersey's arrival. She had been recommended by Alastor to take up his services, even though he was a relative newcomer to Hell. Alastor insisted, using words such as "potential" and "interesting" to describe Jersey.
So far, nothing could be remotely indicative of a powerful sinner with the potential to make waves in the same level as an Overlord like herself. The only thing that stood out was how ordinary Jersey looked. In fact, she found it hard to believe that Jersey was a typical sinner, given his lack of beast-like or demonic characteristics. Aside from his pale skin and somewhat vibrant green eyes, he was almost anonymous looking as a whole.
That being said, Rosie was far from one to underestimate a sinner based on their appearance alone. Alastor likely had some sensible basis to keep an eye on him. His agreement to do a favor for her if she permitted Jersey to act naturally in a job of his liking was easy to accept. If her legitimate problem of a dysfunctional pipe was fixed, that would be a rather excellent bonus.
'Still, he's a rather plain fellow, albeit a polite one.' Rosie thought idly.
The last two individuals that she had contacted to fix the pipes when she first heard the plinking of water under her break room were useless outside of an unexpected meal for herself and her nearest female companions. It would be interesting to see if this Jersey character could exceed the abilities of his digested predecessors.
The lull in activity was stopped by the inhuman, raspy voice of Douglas. "Ms. Rosie?"
Turning her head, she saw Douglas standing by with a rather stupefied look on his face. It was rather unbecoming of him, in Rosie's mind.
"What's wrong?" Rosie asked, confused.
Douglas was about to answer when her old, rusty pipe was carefully maneuvered through the doorway from which the break room was located. To her astonishment, Jersey walked out, not looking even slightly burdened by the heavy hunk of oxidized iron in his hands.
"Is there a place where you get rid of refuse, Ms. Rosie?" Jersey requested as if asking for change.
Rosie, who was starting to gape at the sight, swiftly composed herself. It would have appeared most unladylike, after all. "If you leave through the front and go around the left side, there should be a large receptacle for rubbish."
"Much appreciated." Jersey answered. "Would you mind opening the door so I can take this thing outside?"
Before she assisted Jersey with his efforts to extricate the old pipe from her emporium's premises, one thought ran through her mind.
'Alastor might have found a special one.'
For a start, Jersey meticulously removed every rusted out iron pipe that he could see. This process took at least fifty minutes to do. At one point, Rosie had asked whether he wanted to take a break, but Jersey politely declined. He preferred to complete his jobs in one sitting, even if he was drenched in his own sweat.
Getting rid of the old pipes without causing any collateral damage was the hard part. Now, Jersey focused on putting together a suitable replacement apparatus. In the privacy of the downstairs cellar, Jersey summoned forth sections of PVC piping and began to eyeball the proper configuration. Unlike its mortal equivalent, PVC pipes in hell were colored black, and the adhesive needed to keep them airtight was colored orange. This aesthetic difference was of no concern, and in fact, it would make the transition from galvanized iron to modern piping more pleasing to Rosie's antiquated lens of seeing things.
It was a matter of measuring out and trimming down individual pipe sections, and laying them out in a disconnected array like the pieces to a puzzle. Once a general framework was developed and the proportions were meticulously assessed, Jersey got about outing each part into their appropriate location.
The most tedious part of physically installing the new pipes began with integrating the PVC piping with its old counterparts within the structure not directly in the cellar.
First, Jersey tried to focus his energy onto one pipe meant to connect with another pipe up above. It already had the proper adhesive to keep it stuck in place, but connecting it to the pipe stuck into the ceiling as another matter. The obvious choice to deal with this was for Jersey to use a subtle application of his more ethereal powers.
As if an invisible force was lifting the pipe into the air, telekinesis lifted it into the air. Unfortunately, the pipe just could not be squeezed into place. The invisible force ass just not precise enough. Jersey would have to do it by hand.
Dispelling the telekinesis and catching the pipe, he glanced over his shoulder, noting that no one was present. A moment later, a pair of leathery wings sprouted from Jersey's back. It had been the first time in weeks since he had actually used his wings since he arrived in Pentagram City. The space in which he was going to fly was somewhat tight, but it could be done.
Quickly flapping his wings, Jersey hovered at the correct height to install the first piece of PVC piping. It took a careful adjustment of his wingbeats since Jersey lacked the leverage of the ground to drive the pipe into its proper holding, but it was eventually screwed on. There were a total of four other pipes which had to be applied the same way, which made the beginning of the installation a somewhat torturous process, but the hardest part of the job was soon behind him.
Checking the clock on his Hellphone, Jersey noted that it was high noon. Now he could leisurely put in the rest of the piping before testing it to ensure that no issues with assembly had occurred. Of course, it was Jersey's superhuman physique that made a modestly difficult job a one-man operation.
Not by bit, the new piping was in place, blending in well with the relatively dark setting they were placed in. Jersey soon got about to cleaning up his workspace and felt a mild sense of giddiness in that he could give Rosie some good news.
One could imagine Rosie's surprise when she heard Jersey's proclamation concluding his efforts just over two hours after he began his job.
"I've finished, Ms. Rosie."
Of course, her surprise was hidden behind a graceful poise that she had practiced in both life and in death.
"My, I must admit," she spoke as she walked to join Jersey, "I did not expect you to complete it this early."
"Well, we still have to turn the water supply valve back on and test the integrity of the new pipes," Jersey amended, "but yes, the deed is done. I think you will like how clean and compact your new water feed looks."
Back downstairs with the lantern in hand, Rosie noted the dark PVC pipes and the apparatus it formed in the back of the cellar. She liked the tidiness of Jersey's handiwork, and noted that there was little in the way of messiness after his labor was complete. The buckets once used to catch water had been put off to the side.
"May I do the honors?" Jersey asked as he stationed himself with a hand on the water supply valve.
"By all means." Now was the moment of truth.
With a firm twist, the sound of rushing water could be heard. It traveled down the wall to the left and carried through the PVC pipes up and away from the cellar in multiple directions. It was an underwhelming experience, but not a single drop of water fell from the new plumbing in the cellar.
"Impressive!" Rosie remarked brightly.
"Well, I try my best." Jersey answers humbly.
"And it only took you two hours?"
"It wasn't too big of a job. The compact size of the piping helped to cut time in disassembling and reconfiguring a suitable replacement."
"I see." Rosie regarded the new plumbing once more. She supposed she could forgive that the circulatory implements that fed her emporium with water were not old fashioned, especially since her problems beforehand were fixed in a timely manner. It seemed that Jersey was a sinner of his word: a rarity in Hell.
'It appears Alastor had the right idea of fixating on this gentleman.' Rosie thought. It seemed like an opportune moment to get a personal measure of Jersey just as Alastor had done. Given the current timeframe, it was an easy time to offer Jersey a suitable reason to stay over just a little while longer.
"Would you like to join me for lunch?" Rosie asked
Jersey's thankful smile dipped at the offer. Any other person giving him in his old life would not raise eyebrows, but it was Hell, and trust was less common than hen's teeth. Even more importantly, he was not a cannibal, and the idea of eating the flesh of a sentient being was abhorrent to him.
"You are awfully kind," Jersey began, "but I-"
A growl from his stomach undermined his gentle refusal of Rosie's invitation.
Rosie placed a hand over her mouth, her lips curling in amusement at the coincidental reaction to hunger. A giggle floated up from her petite throat. "I assume your body has already made the decision for you, Jersey."
Giving an unamused frown, Jersey reeled in the forcefulness of his answer to avoid offending his client. "I will not be eating the flesh of other people."
"As I would expect." Rosie answered smoothly. "Come along with me."
She grabbed a sign which read: Owner Currently Preoccupied and placed it onto the table where the register was located. "Douglas, Mary, James, Stephen?" She called out.
Douglass and three more shadowy figures with Edwardian attires promptly appeared. Their hollow voices were mildly disturbing, but they ignored Jersey's cautious staring, instead listening to their master's decree.
"Yes, Ms. Rosie?" Asked the quartet of emporium employees.
"Stephen, you shall prepare lunch for me and my guest. We will need sandwiches that lack my... preferred cuts for Mr. Jersey. The rest of you will be attending things on the first floor while I entertain Mr. Jersey here. Douglas is already aware, but this gentleman is responsible for amending our plumbing issues." She gestured grandly to Jersey, who gave a stiff nod as the piercing gazes of Rosie's employees fell on him.
"Yes, Ms. Rosie." Came the unified reply.
Douglass manned the check out kiosk while Mary and James spread out to keep an eye out for potential thieves. Stephen walked ahead to the back of the store, disappearing behind furniture as he made his way to fix a meal.
Rosie turned to Jersey and gave a smile that was equal parts pleased and chill-inducing. "Now, let's head upstairs for tea."
At the back of the emporium was a narrow staircase just barely big enough for two average sized persons to traverse whilst shoulder to shoulder. At the top was what amounted to a section of an which had been taken out of a Neo-Baroque manor.
It was somewhat dark, with only a few candles and light fixtures, but there was a considerable amount of space within what could be described as a foyer.
At least three spoon backed armchairs with garden's artfully stitched into their cushions stood around a dark wooden table. Upon that table was a beautifully crafted, rectangular embroidery upon which stood a silver candelabra with three arms branching from the center.
"Please, sit down." Rosie beckoned. A snap of her fingers lit the candles.
Jersey realized that he must have looked very uncomfortable being alone with a woman who was cannibalistic. In spite of his caution, he placed a great deal of faith that he could perceive any attempt to leave him vulnerable to attack. As he moved to take a seat, he petitioned his power to his finely tuned senses, ensuring that he could not be caught off guard by an ambush or any subtle means of incapacitating him.
"I must say, no one has ever offered me tea after my services." Jersey said as he carefully regarded his surroundings.
"What a shame." Rosie replied. "I've always adored tea time. It is a rather treasured tradition ever since England began to trade for tea long ago." She smoothly walked down a hallway, leaving Jersey by himself for a moment.
A minute went by without any incident, then Rosie reappeared, looking through the doorway she had previously passed through.
"What is your preference of tea? I have chamomile, green, oolong, earl grey, and black."
Jersey was hardly a connoisseur of teas, so he chose a variation with a color that suited him.
"I would like some black tea with ice, if you have any, please."
Rosie, without another word, disappeared through the door leading to what Jersey assumed was a tea making set.
The wait for the proper beginning of teatime was slightly unnerving. Hell was not the sort of place where typically civil interactions could be undertaken with the same level of social trust. This suspicious attitude was exasperated by the candid fact that he was a guest of someone who would likely eat him up if given the chance.
'I sure hope Alastor was right about her sense of fair play.' He thought anxiously.
The sound of boiling water and the eventual scent of tea coming from the other room at least indicated that tea was being made. Jersey prepared himself to sense the addition of any illicit substances that could endanger his life.
Eventually, the harsh whine of a kettle and the pouring of hot water into a tea pot reached Jersey's ears. Moments later, Rosie entered eloquently into the foyer, a silver platter with a rose garden themed tea set held between her arms.
At the same time, Stephen arrived with a tiered platter stand with white, porcelain plates. The base was the largest, with an accompaniment of four finger sandwiches. Two of the sandwiches smelled of beef and horseradish. The other two smelled unfamiliar, and Jersey had to mentally prevent himself from thinking too hard on the... choice cuts that Rosie openly consumed. The middle plate, smaller than the base plate, had four buttermilk scones and an assortment of cream and jams, one of which was strawberry, the other boysenberry. The topmost and smallest plate had an assortment of colorful sweets, ranging from chocolate truffles to miniature eclairs.
"Thank you." Jersey said courteously. Stephen said nothing, his crimson eyes staring unnervingly at the handyman.
"That will be all for now, Stephen." Rosie ordered. Stephen bowed and made his leave, returning to the ground floor to assist in the running of the emporium.
"You'll have to forgive me if I lack the necessary sense of decorum for teatime, Ms. Rosie." Jersey admitted. "I had little idea that there was so much substance beyond a bit of hot liquid in a fine china cup."
"Don't worry yourself," Rosie insisted, "just know that we start from the bottom platter to the top."
"So... which sandwiches are for me?" Jersey asked. "I would hate to accidentally partake of your... favorite meat of choice."
Rosie chuckled. "I would think not." She simply grabbed two sandwiches and placed them into a small plate before her. This left the remaining sandwiches, which smelled of normal beef and horseradish.
Jersey tentatively grabbed one sandwich and took a simple bite. The relief on his face when the meat tasted fresh and normal was apparent. Rosie hid her amusement behind a palm over her toothy grin. Jersey patiently chewed an swallowed his bite. For the first time since he had distracted himself with the vigors of replacing Rosie's water pipes, he felt at ease.
"Thank you for acquiescing to my diet, Ms. Rosie."
"You're quite welcome." Rosie gave a slow, deliberate bite of her own sandwich. Never had Jersey thought that one could sport such monstrously sharp incisors and chew their with some sense of grace.
For a while, silence fell as the two continued to enjoy their afternoon meals. Jersey decided now was a good time to add some sugar to his tea. He grabbed a spoon situated near a small bowl with sugar cubes, and gently dropped the white square into his cup.
When taking his first sip, Jersey took a silent whiff of the tea through his nose. Rosie did not notice the effort to detect the addition of a sedative or poison, and nothing unusual could be detected by Jersey's sensitive nose.
'Good thing I learned all about poisons, way back when...' He thought idly. 'Otherwise I'd be relying on blind faith in guest rights.'
The first drink was mildly bitter, but Jersey suspected that the sugar he added had not been fully mixed in with the contents of his cup. That was a minor detail. Everything else was going quite smoothly.
"I must say, you have excellent manners for a man of such... humble occupation." Rosie commented. She had finished her first sandwich, and was wiping her lips with a cloth napkin.
Jersey nodded in humble recognition. "I just see no reason to not act civil with others. It ought to be expected when working within the home or business of another person."
"Agreed." Rosie said curtly.
"I must admit, the coarseness I've been seeing these past few weeks has been a bit jarring. Even when I was alive, people were not so quick to speak obscenities so casually in public."
"It's a shame, isn't it? How I wish things could return to the days when I was but a newcomer. Times were much simpler, and far less vulgar than what we see in these so called modern times." She scoffed. "Modernity is a joke in the worst of taste."
"That's the relentless march of progress, as some would call it."
"If today's sense of culture and art is progress, then I think a time of regression should be pursued." Rosie remarked with a clipped tone in her voice.
Jersey barked out a laugh in spite of himself. "I guess there is a reason that I have a passing appreciation for old fashioned things. For so long I lived in a log cabin when all around me, great cities rose and so many innovations were being made."
"Oh?" Rosie asked. "Are you one of a more refined culture, too?"
Jersey carefully considered his response. "I hardly think living in a log cabin is considered high culture, Ms. Rosie. Even I saw some benefits of modernizing parts of my humble abode, before I wound up down here. All the same, I can't help but think that there is too little consideration for all of the things being discarded and left behind in the blind sprint towards progress."
"Well said." Rosie replied. "I am one of the few that has made a market out of the decor and culture of my time as a mortal woman."
"I'm guessing the people in Cannibal Colony are thankful for that."
"Most of them are, though there are a few who live in our unique little niche within the Pentagram who died in less antiquated times. They are the ones who don't appreciate the class and dignity of anything from the Edwardian era."
Jersey nodded along to her explanation. He quickly set about eating the last of his beef finger sandwiches. The scones on the second platter were next for the taking.
"Rest assured that the scones are perfectly edible for your liking, Jersey." Rosie assured. She grabbed a little butter knife and began to fix a scone with cream and strawberry jam.
Silently, Jersey fixed his own scone with cream and no jam, just to test the waters of this new cuisine. As before, he carefully smelled the small baked good in his hand, ensuring it hd not been insidiously tampered with. Once he discerned no poison was present, Jersey hazarded a small bite. It was a light, pleasant flavor.
He swallowed the bite down with a sip of tea. "My compliments to Stephen on the scones, though I'm far from a regular consumer of this kind of food."
"I'm sure he will appreciate that." Rosie said.
At last, Jersey asked the question he had been dying to ask since he first laid eyes on the emporium. "Who is Franklin?"
"She was my old partner in managing the emporium." Rosie explained. "Alas, she was slain in the Extermination a few weeks back. A terrible shame, really." Her tone lacked any sense of remorse for her fallen associate.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Thank you." Rosie feigned the wiping of a tear, uncaring for the obvious fact that her "grief" did not appear genuine.
Jersey left the conversation at that, while Rosie moved on to another subject matter.
"Are you new to Hell?" She asked bluntly.
Jersey gave a guarded nod. "I found myself down here right on New Year's Day. I suppose that makes it the worst that I ever experienced, when I was alive." He added the last part, careful to omit the fact that he would not move on to the afterlife if he had perished all those weeks ago.
Rosie's iris-less eyes widened at this admission. "Oh my. You arrived on the day of the Extermination?"
Jersey shrugged his shoulders. "I was fortunate to not run into any of those... Exterminators, I guess? The Cleanse was finishing up when I arrived."
"Quite the baptism of fire you received." Rosie quipped amusedly.
"I'd prefer not to repeat it."
Once the scones were finished, the assortment of desserts was left at the smallest platter on top. Rosie immediately ate an eclair with a giddiness that could only be replicated by a young girl tasting her favorite ice cream once more. Jersey, in a much more reserved manner, picked up what looked like a rectangular piece of chocolate cake with a rather artful dark assortment of frosting atop it.
The pattern of interaction was the same. Smell, bite, enjoy. Jersey permitted a contented hum as he savored the flavor in his mouth.
"I see you like the flourless chocolate cake." Rosie commented after neatly wiping her face with a napkin again.
"Flourless?" Jersey asked. "How does that work?"
"Three ingredients: chocolate, cocoa, and beaten eggs." Rosie listed off. "It's not nearly as filling as your typical chocolate treat, but still retains some sweetness my dear Jersey."
"Interesting." It crossed Jersey's mind that he had not inquired as to how an aristocratic woman in a community somewhat far from the Hazbin Hotel could come to learn of his very recent venture into independent work.
"How... did you come to learn about me? My advertising campaign was not that widespread, after all."
"A dear friend of mine recommended your services."
"Alastor..."
"That's correct!" Rosie spoke with a blissful smile. "He rarely calls me these days, and it had been so long since we had been together. We were talking about ordinary matters until I mentioned the emporium's degrading plumbing. That was when he recommended you, Jersey. He gave me a number and a general description of your capabilities. You can imagine my joy to know that you are a sinner of your word."
"I'm just a man trying to do some honest work in a... dishonest world."
"Quite the man." Rosie spoke, her voice mildly flirtatious.
Jersey felt butterflies in his stomach. Anything related to the Radio Demon screamed bad news. It also did not help that a woman whose tastes included Victorian fashion and the flesh of another sentient being was being so candid with him.
"So... are you and Alastor... engaged, or something to that effect?"
He was surprised to see Rosie give a high, clear laugh that was drenched in hilarity. After a few moments of somewhat raucous chortling, she managed to return to a lady-like poise. Her face was somewhat flushed at the fact that a relatively new acquaintance had seen her in such an amused state.
"Oh ho ho, quite the imagination you have, Mr. Jersey. No, dear Alastor and I are simply old friends from his early days in Hell. We share common interests, you know."
"As he said to me when I asked about you." Jersey recalled.
Rosie gave a final sip of her tea cup. A fond, wistful smile graced her thin, pale lips. "Yes, Alastor has never been one to be especially intimate. Perhaps that is his own little quirk, or perhaps he is simply the guarded sort of fellow. But no, we were not lovers, though I do wish that we would share each other's company more, like we did decades ago."
"Well, perhaps I can give Alastor your regards when I return to the hotel."
"That sounds excellent." The platters upon which the sandwiches and other foodstuffs were placed on were now empty, and Jersey politely declined a refill of his own cup. "I suppose now would be time for you to return to your benefactor's... charitable venture."
The lilt in Rosie's voice towards bewilderment at the last words that she spoke was not lost on Jersey. "I suppose that is the case."
"So, before you depart, how much is owed for your job?"
Jersey left a degree of relief in his heart that the visit was coming to a close. He quickly listed off the various tasks that accrued expenses on this particular assignment.
"Let's see: between using a cab to arrive at the location, removing the pipes, installing new PVC pipes, and the cost of labor in general." He glanced down at the tea set. "With a little discount for the tea time you generously gave me..."
Rosie giggled at the remark.
"I would say that this job comes down to... two hundred and fifty dollars."
Rosie stood and walked smoothly through a different doorway. After a minute of Hersey awkwardly sitting at a table, wondering about what was going on, Rosie reappeared with three, hundred dollar bills in hand. She gracefully extended the payment towards Jersey's, who took it into a palm. He quickly noticed the size of the payment.
"Oh Ms. Rosie, you don't have to pay me quite this much."
"Take it. You made this ordinary afternoon quite intriguing." Rosie explained. "And besides, you did your work in a timely manner. As a businesswoman, I very much appreciate that."
Jersey pocketed the bills with brief hesitation. "You are too kind, Ms. Rosie."
"Oh enough with the modesty. I know a talented sinner when I see one, Jersey." She lifted her left hand, branching it out towards Jersey.
Noticing the gesture, Jersey clasped the pale extremity and gave a brief, dry kiss onto Rosie's knuckles. "I'm glad I could do such a worthwhile job."
Rosie's smile grew even wider with satisfaction that Jersey understood the decorum she was used to. "Let's return downstairs so I can see you off."
"Remember to call me should you ever need my services again, Ms. Rosie." Jersey was just steps away from going out the front door, his toolbox back in hand. Rosie, standing near the check out kiosk with customary poise, was bidding him farewell.
"But of course! Perhaps we could even share a cup of tea again. Our conversation was quite interesting, I dare say."
Jersey gave a humble grin and a small bow. "I'm flattered at your offer, ma'am. You have a wonderful day."
"And you as well, Jersey!"
"Goodbye." Jersey stepped out and turned to the right, heading down the road. The business in the street had died down somewhat, with people no longer out for lunch.
Grabbing his Hellphone in his offhand, he sent a text to Charlie.
"Done with my first job with a client outside the hotel, will be back soon."
Jersey had taken the time to place a magic seal in the back lot where Rosie tossed out garbage. It would permit him a means to immediately teleport himself to Cannibal Cove, meaning that he would no longer need to take a cab or even drive himself to a location where a job was happening. He could not escape Hell entirely, but Jersey could still use his skill in traveling long distances within Hell to make his job easier.
Ducking into an alleyway where none could see him, he concentrated his mind on the Hazbin Hotel. A bright orange magic circle appeared beneath his feet before traveling up his body and transporting him to the eastern outside wall of the Hazbin Hotel. All that was left was the alley, and the quiet, dissonant bustle of Cannibal Cove.
Alastor was currently preparing a general script for his next radio hour. Being an Overlord related to radios was not just a privilege, there was considerable work done to give a good product. He had concocted a means to broadcast whatever chaos was occurring on the hotel by reusing the same technique he had used to broadcast the carnage he wrought in his early days.
"The playback of Petey's short lived invasion of the hotel will be quite the pilot episode, don't you think, my friend?"
His staff, which was somewhat sentient, answered its master with a cheery disposition.
"It'll be a real knockdown, drag-out melee of an opening episode, ole' boy!"
Alastor gave a jovial cackle. "I should hope so!"
His phone on the desk rang. Alastor silently predicted whom was calling him, and immediately answered the call before the second ring finished.
"Hello?"
"I must say Alastor," spoke Rosie from the other end of the line, "your recommendation on a plumber was one of your better ideas."
"Have you little faith in me after all of these years?" Alastor asked with false hurt in his voice.
"Considering the years you never answered my calls, I should think that my skepticism is warranted." She retorted. "Or have you forgotten the last time that we went to a show or had a classy drink at Mimzy's establishment."
The mention of Mimzy caused Alastor to flinch while a tiny sense of nostalgia in the back of his unmoving heart stirred. He supposed that after years of never going out of his way to spend quality time with his cannibalistic compatriot, that he could at least be contrite in his response.
"I promise that I will find it in my spare time to spend time with you more often." He paused before giving a tired sigh. "I'll even extend that promise to Mimzy..."
"Good." Rosie tutted as if getting an apology from a recalcitrant little boy.
"Did you go through this effort to demand more time with this old, misbehaving host?"
"No. After all, I can happily report that my plumbing issue was resolved in the space of two hours."
Alastor's eyes widened in realization and mild amazement. "So, our mutual acquaintance was that quick, eh? Even I did not expect that."
"Indeed. You can imagine my surprise at the modest cost he presented to me after he was done."
Alastor's eyes narrowed a bit in interest. Temperance and charity were not common traits among sinners. "How generous of him."
"I would have none of it. I gave him a little bonus for his efficiency. It's a shame that I didn't get him under my employ before the Princess did."
The Radio Demon chuckled as he sat behind the desk. "Jersey is quite the independent fellow from what I gather. He'd probably be a bit stubborn if he could not use his gifts beyond your beloved emporium, my dear."
Rosie allowed a sigh. "Perhaps..."
"So, did you find anything out about him?"
"Nothing especially exciting. He cares not about the forbidden cuisine you and I enjoy so much."
"That's hardly surprising. His teeth are hardly suitable for it anyway."
"He lived out his human life in log cabin which he constructed to accommodate the comforts of modernity."
Alastor found this fact much more intriguing. "A man of the woods... I would never have guessed." Jersey's lack of an accent did not point to a southern life. He would likely have lived above the Mason-Dixon Line as some called it.
"Indeed. He had very good manners for a man not of our respective generations."
"Anything else?"
"Jersey arrived on the day of the Extermination, according to him."
Alastor quirked an eyebrow, his toothy grin maintaining its posture. "Which Extermination?"
"The most recent one a few weeks back."
"My my," he said, "how unlucky to have arrived during such a murderous time. Must have been a shock to him."
"He had the fortune to not encounter any of those wretched angels."
Alastor had known that Jersey heard of the hotel shortly after the amusing fiasco on Channel 666. Yet he had no idea that Jersey came by that information so swiftly. It was clear that the handyman had tried immediately to find himself a place to settle since he was now stuck in a world of eternal damnation. "How lucky indeed. Was that all?"
Rosie hummed in thought, trying to remember key details of Jersey's visit. She remembered his considerable ability to replace her piping despite a myriad of unique circumstances.
"Jersey is quite strong from what I can see. He lifted the largest section of rusted pipe all by himself when he was beginning the renovation process."
Alastor was sure to remember that factoid. "Interesting." The strategy of looking at Jersey's skills through his work was now a viable option.
"He was also able to replace every bit of piping without having to leave my emporium. It makes you wonder just how he accomplished that. I did not have any of that... what did he call it? PVC piping stored down in the cellar."
"Most peculiar." Alastor agreed. He was now fully convinced that sending him Rosie's way was an excellent idea.
"I was also surprised by how Jersey was able to accomplish his task given how high up the plumbing was. It was at least two feet above him, and he had no stepladder to speak of when he arrived."
Alastor hummed in interest, lazily writing down some of the notes in this conversation in a small journal that he conjured with a mere thought. "It appears that Jersey works in mysterious ways..."
"It certainly seems so." Rosie acknowledged. "Beyond that, we talked about the emporium, my relationship with you, and the fate of poor Franklin."
"Whatever happened to her?" Alastor asked.
"She was a victim of the cleanse. Now the management of the emporium falls entirely to me." Rosie explained with no amount of grief or longing in her voice.
Alastor hummed in thought. He had been away from his usual associates for longer than he remembered. "Very well, I suppose that will be all on that matter."
"You know, I was able to get him to talk easily enough over tea, even while he was aware of my cravenly carnivorous tendencies."
"You don't say? Perhaps my theory that direct conversation would earn nothing seems to be false." All the same, he was curious about what made his words with Jersey and Rosie's words different. "Maybe your feminine wiles are more effective than my usual candor."
A pleasant giggle bubbled up from Rosie. "As I always say, dear Alastor," Rosie quoted with satisfaction in her voice, "never send a man to do a woman's job."
"But of course." Alastor decided the conversation could end for now. "This little investigative venture of mine is a long term investment, but I am absolutely sure it will be worth it."
"I can certainly feel a degree of potential in dear Mr. Jersey. I can hardly think of a man of the current age that could leave such a positive impression. We cannot let him go to waste."
"My thoughts exactly..." Alastor purred. "Well, I'm in the midst of creating a more comedic sketch based on what chaos has already occurred at the Hazbin Hotel."
Rosie chuckled. "I'll be sure to listen to it. It will be on your usual frequency, correct?"
"As always!" Alastor confirmed jovially. "Give a hello to your fair lady friends for me, will you?"
"I shall do it the moment I get the chance. Farewell, Alastor."
"And me to you, dear Rosie."
Alastor lowered the phone back onto the mount. He gave a cheeky grin to his microphone cane, which was propped against his personal desk. "Steady as it goes, my friend. Now, back to business! The show must go on, after all..."
-3/27/21
This chapter is slightly edited from its original version due to a number of details that slipped from my mind. I'd like to thank the guest who brought this to my attention.