Alastor was finishing up preparations for an evening of business and leisure at Club Maribou. He decided to switch his usual attire to a slighty different color scheme. The reds of his usually beaten up petticoat and slacks were replaced by brighter hues. Instead of being dominated by the color of dried blood, Alastor's attire was decidedly more lively, akin to a bright poppy on a spring day. Additionally, the darkest hues that made up his bow tie and shirt front were replaced with a polished ivory white. Even his shoes and gloves matched this change in color, which would make him stand out throughout the evening.
In addition to this, Alastor had done away with the tatters which normally bolstered his intimidating appearance. Now was the time to look his absolute best, and it was not just for business purposes.
Mimzy would scold him fiercely if he arrived at her venue looking like he had just come out of a homeless flat.
The Radio Demon momentarily indulged himself, puffing his chest out ever so slightly while his yellow teeth flashed an eager smile of approval. His predatory eyes now peered through old fashioned spectacles. They shared the crimson lenses of his classic monocle, and sat contently on his smallish nose.
"Looking mighty sharp there, boss! You'll be the cat's meow at Club Maribou!" Alastor's sentient cane complimented its master with an admiral gleam in its serpentine eye.
"I should hope so. I'll be seeing sweet little Mimzy, after all. That gal deserves only the best presentation."
"Then you'll really be the cat's meow, eh Ally-cat?" The cheeky comment by the microphone staff was followed by a brief bout of canned, hysterical laughter by an audience that only existed within the space manipulated by Alastor's radio-based powers.
The Radio Demon promptly growled in annoyance. His right hand extended somewhat to his side, his thin fingers stretching out as of trying to catch something. Instantly caught in the grip of its master's will, the microphone staff flew with great speed right into Alastor's palm. The moment Alastor's gloved hand clasped around the thin neck of his loyal instrument, the eye shut itself and its glow subsided.
Alastor would only allow such mockery once, and it would not be in front of anyone else in public.
"Hmph." Alastor muttered. strutted off to leave his personal quarters. "Sometimes there is wisdom in being clammed up, my skinny friend."
Down in the lobby, Jersey was leaning against a wall opposite the front desk. As expected, he was wearing the grey Depression era summer suit that Alastor had provided for him. He felt out of touch, wearing a type of clothing he had not worn in over eighty years. Likewise, a sense of unease filled his heart.
'I'll be alone with Alastor and his associates for dinner. Even with the offer of a client in this Mimzy woman, I can't help but remember that warning that Vagatha gave me all those weeks ago.'
Jersey could infer the relationship between Alastor and the likes of Niffty and Husker was not based on consent. Husk's pessimistic take on the circumstances that led to his servitude indicated that any debt or agreement with the Radio Demon was a recipe for slavery by another means. Niffty would insist that she enjoyed the arrangement, and perhaps that was the case, but it did not allay Jersey's anxiety. The shackles around his two coworkers were not tangible, but the internment was just as complete and nearly as uncompromising.
Despite Alastor's charming nature, he was also clearly dangerous. Jersey could feel the cruel, almost eldritch power for himself on at least a few occasions, the most definitive demonstration occurring when the hotel was attacked by political extremists roughly a month ago. The Radio Demon had power to spare, and Jersey did not yet have reason to put trust in his own power to keep him alive in a worst case scenario.
For the longest time, he had been keeping Alastor at arms' length. Now, he was going to a somewhat intimate meeting with the Radio Demon and his closest companions. Looking back, Jersey wondered how things had arrived to this point.
'Maybe this sinful place has been corrupting me. Perhaps some greed I had long forgotten has come back to cloud my judgement.' Jersey stretched himself with a stressed huff.
If this theory were true, it was a wonder he had not taken full advantage of his unique powers to carve out a place as an Overlord. Deep down, Jersey was thankful that a persistent focus on keeping a low profile whenever possible was the best course of action. It was becoming harder as he gained connections with the likes of Alastor and even the Princess of Hell herself, but it was still worth trying to preserve.
"Now aren't we looking ready for a night on the town?!" Predictably, Alastor arrived with some modicum of grandiosity. He strode into the lobby as if he were appearing on an opera stage, his beaming smile looking especially pleased.
Jersey adjusted his hat, making sure his sight line was not obstructed in the slightest. "You've already gone this far just to make sure I was presentable. Might as well show off this suit while meeting a future hopeful client."
"Oh trust me, Jersey: you present yourself just right, and you'll have no trouble getting in Mimzy's good graces. Now, I believe our transportation will be arriving soon enough."
Reluctantly following the Overlord, Jersey was surprised to see a demonic looking 1931 Ford Sedan. The body of the car was an oily black, and multiple accessories from the headlights to the wheel disks had sharp thorns and other unsettling protrusions. As it stood, one could be forgiven if they hesitated to approach the vehicle, much less enter it. The apparent chauffeur, a tall, blue sinner with mutliple, hot pink eyes and a lanky frame, stood by the rear door facing the Hazbin Hotel. Dressed just as formally as the soon to be occupants of the Sedan, he opened the door without a word.
"Thank you, my good fellow. Come along, Jersey! We have a schedule to keep."
Jersey stiffly followed the Radio Demon into the car, making sure to avert his eyes under the emotionless scrutiny of the demon who was tasked with driving them to Club Maribou.
The rear right door closed with a thud, and the driver of the antiquated automobile slithered to the driver's seat. Within moments, the ignition was turned, and the rumble of an old combustion engine hacked and grunted to life. At once, the two sinners were on their way to the north side of Pentagram City.
At the front desk, Husker had observed the entire sequence of events. Even with copious levels of alcohol in his system, he could perceive the conflicted look on Jersey's face. Without a word spoken, Husk understood the handyman's thoughts perfectly.
'Remember that Al's always looking for an angle. Don't let his bullshittin' convince you into takin' one of his awful fuckin' deals.'
Suddenly, Niffty ran into the main lobby. "Dinner is almost ready~!"
Husk did not answer, his amber eyes still staring intensely at the doorway through which Alastor and Jersey left.
"Hey, whatcha looking at, Husky?"
"Grr... I hate that fuckin' nickname." He growled under his breath. "Jersey and Al left to go to Club Maribou."
"Aww, what?! I love that place! The music, the food, it's a blast! Why didn't Mr. Alastor invite me to go?!"
"If it's what I think," Husk said with grim uncertainty, "then Al's gonna propose a deal within the goddamn glamour of that joint's lights and food and shit."
"Wait, so Jersey could be joining us? Like on a formal basis?"
Husk did not like the sound of that. "Umm..."
"YES!" Niffty squealed in joy. "Now I'll be even closer to that hunk of a handyman!"
"Sonova bitch." Husk swore as he facepalmed. He was going to need something strong, even as supper approached.
Alastor had maintained an eager attitude, even as Jersey looked as if he were being squeezed alive into a coffin that was just barely large enough to accommodate him. Jersey had his arms crossed defensively, and had been staring out of the right side window for the past thirty minutes. Aside from the grumble of the car engine and the occasional crackle of noise that came with Alastor's unique powers, hardly any sound was made.
At last, Alastor felt he had to break the ice. "Are you enjoying the sights of the north side of the Pentagram?"
A stiff nod was the reply. Mentally, Jersey was deeply distracted about the possibility of being entrapped into Alastor's servitude. Club Maribou, whether it was directly under the Radio Demon's control, was practically his turf. Between the typical niceties of a high class meal and a musical performance, there was plentiful opportunity for Alastor to sneak some innocent proposition that would end with Jersey becoming a servant to another master.
The mere thought boiled his blood, only to be confronted with the always cautionary side of his brain, warning him that Alastor was not President Haagenti. As a matter of context, Jersey was not born yesterday, and he knew a trap when he heard or saw one. As a child, he was sold away, with no chance of escaping his servile life without suffering fatal consequences. Alastor's attempt at generous play-acting, while impressive, still invited a skeptical eye.
Conversely, this could, in turn, be a prime opportunity to understand Alastor's personal connections. Jersey knew of Rosie, and had developed a pleasant acquaintance with her. Not only could Mimzy be a future customer of his plumbing and electrician services, but she could be a source of knowledge about what Alastor was beyond the eldritch horror that was his persona as the Radio Demon.
It would require a subtle silver tongue: a skill that Jersey rarely used. But it could be done, especially against someone who was cocksure of their own security.
"Husker got your tongue?" Alastor teased. A laugh track followed the quip.
Realizing that such a stony front would not be sustainable, Jersey rolled his eyes and dared to appear relaxed. "As a matter of fact, no. I didn't even talk with him when I was waiting for you in the lobby."
"I can't imagine why." Alastor remarked dryly. "He is a truly agreeable source of conversation. Especially once he has drunk himself under the table that he winds up over the table."
"You'll have to forgive me if I seem a little stressed." Jersey explained, calculating what words to say next. "The last time I explored outside of the hotel, I was accosted by some unsavory characters."
"Oh?"
"They mistook me for a mere contract worker: someone without any means of defending myself."
"I suppose you hammered out a correction with those hooligans." Again, a raucous laugh track followed after his words.
That pun jolted something in Jersey's mind. Such a fact could not have been known unless someone personally observed his scuffle against the Imp thrives just weeks prior. Jersey, keeping his cool, and allowed a ghost of a smile. "You could certainly say that."
"Rest assured that Mimzy only allows civilized sinners and demons into her abode. Well, as civilized as they can be in this wretched city. She has a full staff with a security detail that is fiercely loyal and observant. The chances of anything untoward happening to you or me for that matter is almost zero."
"Almost." Emerald eyes narrowed subtly with nigh paranoid observation.
Alastor stared at Jersey for a moment. He then sighed. "I understand your attitude. No doubt you've heard of my reputation. All the same, this is a prime opportunity for you to gain another customer at my direction. You'll have food, and fine liquor, and Mimzy will be performing! All of this in one of the finest tables that she personally set aside for us!"
"A rather cozy place for you to present a deal to me." Jersey replied lazily. "All of that drink to dull my senses. The song of a siren in the air. It's a wonder I didn't reject your offer outright."
"Now Jersey," Alastor said in a warning tone, "don't mistake my intentions. Yes, it would be nice to have you join my little circle of associates, but moreover, I don't want to be the only man in Club Maribou who will be sitting with two lovely women, one of whom is besotted with me."
The explanation threw Jersey for a loop. "You don't want to be outnumbered by the fairer sex?"
Alastor suddenly refused to meet his gaze. It was perhaps the closest he had been to expressing embarrassment.
"Who's the admirer here? Rosie?"
"No. She understands my personal boundaries on romance. It's Mimzy."
"Oh."
Alastor nodded as he took a moment to stare out of the car window next to him. "This is the first time in years that I'll have seen her in person. In life, she was completely infatuated with me. For a time, I reciprocated, to a point. When it came to taking our relationship any further than that... Let's just say I had an aversion to the more carnal activities that she offered me."
"What of your relationship now?"
"Mimzy, bless her sinful heart, has never been one to take no for an answer. She's insisted that one day, she'll finally claim my heart, as well as something else. I'd rather have at least one male companion with me when we are seated at the table. Do you understand?"
'I do. That doesn't mean I'll let my guard down.' Jersey thought. "To think the mighty Radio Demon could be so vulnerable. I've never been a forth wheel on a date night."
Alastor's eyes narrowed with faux anger. "Keep that up, and I might ask Mimzy to add you as a future appetizer for a guest from Cannibal Colony."
"I recommend you don't. I'm a bit on the chewy side. Also, I have very little nutritional value."
Alastor paused. Then he guffawed with laughter. It was resonant and genuine. All tension in the back seats of the Sedan was released. Even Jersey let a full blown grin stretch across his face.
"Ah, that was a good one! I know you may not trust me, but a leap of faith is in order. I've brought you this far without any harm, after all."
Jersey turned back towards the window nearest him. The demonic Sedan was slowing down as it approached a large building almost three stories tall. A large neon sign of "Club Maribou" stretched for over thirty feet in length. The sign was a warm white color, and a vigil of the scavenging bird that was the establishment's namesake could be seen at the right most end of the sign.
Beneath the banner was a menagerie of smaller signs which indicated the various venues, prices, and shops that could be found inside. Among the brands was a hat shop, a liquor brand named "Sin Claire," and even a record store that was curiously named "Alastor's Vinyls." Dinner was incredibly cheap, for a mere two dollars and ten cents. This incredible price was exceedingly popular, given the buzz of well dressed sinners that were milling about within the main lobby of the club.
The car came to a stop. Alastor's smile became impossibly wide as he felt at home near the depression-era speakeasy. "We're here~!"
At once, the car was put into park, and the chauffeur left the driver's seat to let Alastor, then Jersey, out of the vehicle. Upon exiting the Ford Sedan, the unique atmosphere was immediately apparent to Jersey's keen senses.
The air was similar in scent to the center of the pentagram, but the sounds of the air and the appearance of the crowd was dramatically different. Most cars were luxury models or old fashioned in nature. The occasional horse carriage also moved through the streets, apparently safe from the threat of a speeding car. Most sinners in the vicinity wore suits, dresses, and hats that were out of fashion in the twenty-first century. It was as if the early part of the previous century had been transported right into the northern most section of Pentagram City, with its inhabitants quickly adopting the theme. The distant honking of car horns, ringing trolley bells, and conversations on subjects that were of no immediate interest filled the air.
"Come along, Jersey! We have a reservation, and we must be on time." Alastor took the lead, using his microphone as a proper cane as he strode confidently towards the entrance of Club Maribou. Jersey followed behind, his every sense on alert for something untoward to happen.
The smell of tobacco smoke and a myriad of perfumes and aftershaves hit Jersey's nose. Ahead of him and Alastor, a queue had formed in front of a reception desk with a chalkboard set up behind it. Above was the name of the speakeasy: Maribou's Roost. There were three couples of well dressed sinners that were eager to get into the restaurant, which was situated behind a pair of red and gold doors just ahead.
"Good to see that there is plentiful business about." Alastor remarked. "Mimzy will be most pleased."
Jersey looked about whilst he was in line. To the left, shops were open and were constructed much like an inclosed bazaar. The nearest shop served cigars and other tobacco products. Beyond that, a winery, the previously advertised record shop, and a clock store were in business. In the rightward direction, a large book store was situated, and nothing else. Some of the venues seemed out of place to be near a speakeasy, but this reminded Jersey that this was no venture in the human world.
Within minutes, Alastor and Jersey were but seconds away from claiming their reservation. As the pair of sinners ahead of the two men were being lead to their table, a dainty hand fell upon Jersey's shoulder. He jumped at the touch, and the hand recoiled at the same time. Looking over his shoulder with a startled grimace, he realized whom the owner of the offending limb was.
"Oh dear," Rosie exclaimed, "my sincerest apologies, Jersey. I did not mean to frighten you."
At once, Jersey made an effort to relax, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. "It's alright. Forgive me for not noticing your arrival."
"Oh it's hardly your fault. This establishment has always been a hub for eager sinners looking to satisfy their desires. It's difficult to get a word in when you've just arrived."
Alastor turned at the sound of a familiar voice. "Rosie! A pleasure to see you in person again!" Alastor gently grabbed the nearest hand that she had, and kissed the top of her knuckles.
"It has been too long since we've seen each other face to face, mon vieil ami."
"C'est bon de te voir, Mademoiselle Rosie." Alastor purred. "Still as beautiful as ever."
"Always such a charmer. When you can be bothered to return a call that is."
At once, Alastor's smile went from coquettish to embarrassed. 'I wonder how much Mimzy will hang me out to dry now that I will be seeing her in person again...'
"How are you, Jersey?" Rosie asked.
Jersey decided to give his own greeting. With a flourish, he removed his fedora and bowed with a grace that was not often used. "I am quite well, and I am very glad to see you in good spirits too, Miss Rosie."
"Just call me Rosie dear," she replied coyly, "after all, we are acquaintances, no?"
"Of course." Jersey said as he placed his hat back on his head.
"Table for four." Alastor informed the horned host before him. "Party should be for Alastor, in the VIP section."
The host, who was satyr-like and matched Alastor in height, quickly checked through a log book. In a split second, he nodded before meeting the Radio Demon's eyes with a professional smile. "Welcome to the Roost."
In swift succession, the host marked the arrival of the reservation as being present. He then grabbed five laminated menus: one was for desserts while the remaining four were for the main entrées and drinks.
"Right this way."
The interior of Maribou's Roost was shaped similarly to a large auditorium. At the farthest end was a stage with fanciful, curled molding on the periphery of its wings and the apron. At the moment, Hell's Raising Lounge was not being used, and as a result, it was closed with massive, black curtains. In total, there were twenty eight dinner tables in the restaurant, most of whom were occupied, had five individual levels on which to reside. Each level was separated by a series of stainless gold stanchions connected with velvet ropes of a dark maroon color. The levels could only be traversed by taking one of three staircase pathways that were each four steps tall.
The top most level had two bar sections with six bartenders currently serving drinks. All bar stools, numbering thirty-two seats in total, were occupied with demons who dressed well yet appeared no less monstrous than any of their less sophisticated neighbors.
The second level below the bar housed twelve tables. The level after that housed eight tables, followed by six, and then four. The four tables closest to the stage were marked by two signs that read: VIP seating.
Soon, the party of three was seated at the right of center VIP table. Alastor sat opposite to the stage itself, with a clear view of the apron. Jersey was content to sit cautiously to Alastor's right, with Rosie sitting with poise across the Radio Demon.
The host informed them that a server would arrive to their table shortly, then he retreated back to the reception desk.
"Good golly has it been a long time since I've been in this old place." Alastor remarked.
"I'll have to refresh my memory on the selection of meals myself." Rosie said, immediately searching the menu in her hands.
"Why it hasn't changed a bit! At least, not from what I can see."
Jersey unfolded the artful selection of entrees and was pleased to see that the meals and the ingredients they presented were as ordinary as their mortal counterparts. Even months after arriving in Pentagram City, he could hardly believe the parallels between Hell and the mortal world from where he had come from. Understanding that alcohol would be a courtesy for this particular meal, he searched the drink section.
"Welcome to the Maribou's Roost! My name is Wallace, and I will be your waiter this evening. A pleasure to have you with us, Mr. Radio Demon and Lady Rosie." The waiter for the table arrived with surprising initiative. He was boar-like in appearance, with a broad, slate gray head and piercing red eyes. His voice however, was a pleasant tenor discordant with his bestial appearance.
"Oh dispense with the formalities, sir!" Alastor said with a dismissive wave. "Think of me as just another customer."
"The same with myself, if you'd please." Rosie added.
"As you both wish. May I start you and your party with drink orders? We have multiple wines and other brands straight from the bottle. Alternatively, our bartenders can make a wide assortment of drinks: a Bloody Mary, Mai Tai, Corpse Reviver, just about anything you can want in a cocktail."
"I'll start off with a coffee. We'll be here for some time. As for the drink I'll have with my meal, I'm feeling... old fashioned." The Radio Demon's lips curled in a Cheshire manner as he made his pun.
The waiter took the joke in good stride, chuckling as he wrote the order down. He addressed Rosie. "What about you, madam?"
"I'll have coffee as well. I also want the finest red wine you can provide."
"And you?" The waiter asked Jersey.
"Water, please. Also, a pink moscato will do for me."
With the waiter's assurance of timely service, the party of four minus one began to settle down for the evening.
"Here I was afraid you were going to embrace some tea-totaling this night." Alastor remarked as he cheekily stared at Jersey.
The handyman of the Hazbin Hotel shrugged, his eyes directed to the stage. "I just wanted something sweet with a modest amount of alcohol content. Didn't you mention that there would be a show?"
"Yes indeed!" Alastor rolled back the collar on his right hand, revealing a golden antler-themed watch. "Should be on in about three minutes. Trust me, even if you despise the food, Mimzy is worth every penny for a VIP seat!"
"Consider my expectations to be high." Jersey turned his attention to Rosie, who was briefly perusing the menu in her hands. "How have you been, Rosie?"
"Business has been steady." The demoness replied. "I've been trying my luck with getting an antique brand of cigars for my Emporium. You'd be amazed at how essential the desire to foul the air with smoke is to drumming up more customers."
"I'd prefer to blow smoke rather than outright smoke. It's much more fun without the trade off of receiving cancer of the lungs. I need my lungs so the masses can hear my magnificent broadcasts, after all." Alastor commented.
"Tell that to the men who, time and time again, want cigars and cigarettes as well as the best aged bourbons that can be provided." Rosie answered with exasperation. "If I keep this up, I'll have downgraded my enterprise to a luxurious liqueur store, not a proper emporium."
"Well, I'm sure that you'll be able to manage." Jersey replied. "In any business, the market sets the damn pace. If it comes to it, you'll just have to own the best damn liqueur store in the whole city."
Rosie chortled heartily at the remark. "How kind of you to appraise me. Perhaps one day, I'll see you checking the merchandise, rather than remodeling my plumbing."
"I'll be sure to drop by when I have the time. I'd pay money for those sandwiches of yours."
"Well, my little morsels will pale in comparison to the selections they have in the Maribou's Roost."
Within a minute after the conversation fell into a lull, the waiter from before arrived with a coffee pitcher and a glass of ice water. Two mugs were carefully deposited before Alastor and Rosie, and their coffee was poured with professional care. Thanks were given, and once more, the waiter produced a pad of paper to write down orders.
"Have you decided what your meals will be?"
"One moment." Jersey interrupted. "We are expecting a fourth guest. It seems like it would be rude to order before she has had her say."
"Oh! Do not fret, sir. Miss Mimzy gave her order the moment you three sat down at your seats. She'll be joining you after her performance. There is no trouble in giving your orders now."
"I'll start." Rosie purred. "I'll have the beef bourguignon with a side of green beans, if you'd please."
"The Sallos Alligator Gumbo, please. I'll have some cornbread and blood rice to go with it." Alastor requested.
"I'll start off with a Caesar salad. As for my meal, the prime rib with mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli."
"Alright then! I'll send this to the kitchen, and we'll get you all served the finest that the roost can offer. You all enjoy the show."
As the waiter departed up the steps, the lights began to dim. Conversations across the restaurant floor died down as many turned their attention to the stage.
Alastor gazed up with anticipation as a spotlight activated over the center of the stage, where the curtains met together. As if following a silent command, the curtains parted, and a piano, out of sight, began to play.
Scattered applause was drawn from the crowd as the spotlight moved up the stage. The light landed on a short woman with a stocky hourglass figure. She was wrapped in a what looked like a burgundy cloak with a matching feather boa which looked almost comically large on the shoulders of the woman it belonged to. The lady onstage was Mimzy, partial owner of Club Maribou and main performer of the Maribou's Roost.
Her platinum blonde hair was made in an old fashioned bob cut; a dull salmon bandeau was wrapped around her head. Bright pink eyes in pools of black, flanked by magenta eyelashes, looked up demurely for a moment, before falling on Alastor, who felt his black heart brighten for a brief moment within Mimzy's longing gaze.
The flapper woman blinked, and strutted confidently towards a microphone which had been brought on stage for the occasion. Off stage, an accompanying piano and drum set began to stir, setting the tempo for a coming song. A clarinet, trumpet, and other supporting instruments soon joined.
"Hello~!" Greeted Mimzy with a perky wave of her hand. "You ladies and gents probably already know me, but for any newcomers to the Roost, I am the famous Mimzy! At least, I hope to be as famous as anybody else in the Pentagram. And when I get ta that point, I'll be signin' autographs to all of my fans with a little heart over the 'I.'"
With a twirl, Mimzy faced the audience at her full, albeit modest height. "That's right! It'll look like Mimzy with a heart~! Everyone in the Ring of Pride is gonna know my name!"
"The name on everybody's lips
is gonna be: Mimzy."
"The lady raking in the chips
is gonna be: Mimzy."
"I'm gonna be a celebrity
that means
somebody everyone knows."
"They're gonna recognize my eyes,
my hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose!"
With every word, Mimzy made risqué movements with her hips, taking full advantage of her stout, yet womanly physique. Wolf whistles and hollers of approval from men in the restaurant could be heard from afar. A buzz of what could be construed as annoyance from Alastor crackled for a moment. Rosie scoffed at what were frankly scandalous lyrics from her generation's point of view, whether she was a sinner or not.
As for Jersey, he was curious as to whether this was a coincidental remake or a blatant copycat of a notable song from Chicago.
"From just some dumb policeman's girl,
I'm gonna be Mimzy!"
"Who says that murder's not an art?"
"And who in case she doesn't hang,
can say she started with a bang?!"
"Mimzy with a heart!"
The verse subsided with a chuckle as Mimzy swung her hips in tempo with the music. A key change soon followed, and six incubus demons, tall, handsome, and dressed in black outfits with matching hats, strutted onto the stage.
"Boys..."
"They're gonna wait outside in line
to get to see."
"Mimzy."
"Think of those autographs
I'll sign,
'Good luck to ya!'"
"Mimzy."
"And I'll appear
in a lavalier that goes
all the way down to my waist!"
"Here a ring,
there a ring,
everywhere a-ring-a-ling."
"But always in the best of taste!"
The singing was broken off as the male demons shuffled and danced boldly to the music.
"Mmmm, I'm a star!" Mimzy shouted, to which much of the audience agreed with applause and more raucous noise.
"And the audience loves me!" Cheers began again, accompanied by more wolf whistles and a bawdy comment or two about her carnal appeal.
"And I love them, and they love me for loving them, and I love them for loving me!" She continued as she approached the apron of the stage. Then, Mimzy's eyes fell longingly towards Alastor.
"And we love each other, and that's because none of us got enough love in our childhoods, and that's showbiz, kid!" In a twirling flourish, she reverted back to her stage presence, with the incubi singing once more.
"She's given up her hum drum life."
"I'm gonna be, sing it!"
"Mimzy!"
"She made a scandal and a start!"
"And those naysayers will shit, I know,
to see her name get billed below!"
"Mimzy with a Heart!"
"Mimzy..."
"Mimzy..."
"Mimzy..."
"Mimzy..."
As the song concluded, applause surged from the crowd once again. Jersey was visibly impressed with the energy of Mimzy's performance and the clarity and beauty of her voice. Even Rosie, prudish though she was with the cruder elements of the song, gave some claps of approval. Alastor clapped the longest, as his eyes appeared to look almost teary with nostalgia.
On stage, Mimzy and the demons accompanying her took their bows as the curtains drew in. The lights returned to their normal brightness on the restaurant floor as conversation amongst patrons began again. A slow jazz song played in the background, which heightened the atmosphere of The Maribou's Roost. Alastor and Rosie blew gently on their cups of caffeinated delight while Jersey looked to spark more conversation.
"That was quite the performance, even if it is a shameless knock off."
Alastor pointed knowingly at the handyman next to him. "They do say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."
"Al~!" Sang a familiar voice.
"Speaking of flattery..." Alastor muttered with some uncharacteristic nervousness in his voice. He turned his attention to the quickly descending form of Mimzy, who had wrapped a dark robe over her flapper outfit for the purpose of joining dinner.
She let out a squeal of joy as she ran up and gave a vigorous hug to the Radio Demon. Anyone else would have likely been eviscerated for such a bold display of affection, especially given Alastor's haphephobic tendencies. Instead, a buzz of exasperation was all that was made in protest. Alastor even dared to reciprocate the hug with a few pats on Mimzy's back.
"Oh, Al... I've been waitin' almost thirty years for this! We're back togetha', just like old times."
"I sure wouldn't mind a blast from the past. You looked like you were having fun up there!"
"It's like that most evenings. After all these years, it neva' gets old..."
"I've been keeping up the old radiowave resplendence. Even this old buck can make high class entertainment."
At this, Mimzy's fond smile began to dip. "Even at the cost of your friends, Al?"
"She has you there." Rosie added, leaving the Radio Demon at a brief loss for words. The topic of keeping up with old companions during the modern age was a surprisingly sore one.
Alastor sighed through his nose. "I won't make excuses. I've been neglectful of my past friendships. Consider this the first step in amending my absence. I'm sorry... for failing to even answer your calls."
Mimzy stared at the Radio Demon briefly. Then her teary expression was disrupted by a toothless grin that threatened to rupture her rosy cheeks. "I forgive ya. In fact, I propose a- oh... my drink's not here yet."
"In the meantime," Alastor said, "I can get you acquainted with the gentleman I wanted you to meet. This fellow is Jersey. He's a handyman who is constantly looking for work, and I told him you had an interest in having the plumbing in this old place renovated."
"Oh yeah, Al told me you were gonna join our dinner here. My name's Mimzy, in case the song on stage didn't clue ya in." The plump woman greeted as she reached across the table to shake Jersey's hand.
"Pleased to meet you. I understand you are in the lookout for someone to fix up the plumbing in this establishment."
"I do, but I'd like to get some drinks before I start talkin' business." Mimzy explained.
"It looks like they're coming right up." Rosie commented as she glanced at an approaching waiter.
This server was not Wallace. Instead, the presenter of the drinks was cat-like in appearance. His grin was wide, but more disarming than the likes of Alastor's smile, as he arrived with a platter of fancy cocktails and other drinks. "Your drinks for the evening ladies and gentlemen."
One by one, an Old Fashioned, a Gin Rickey, a tall wine glass of red wine with an accompanying bottle in an ice filled bucket, and a glass of moscato were presented. Thanks were given from everyone except Jersey. Something about the approach of this nameless waiter made him feel uneasy, though he could not put words to his anxiety.
"I believe that your toast can begin now, my dear." Alastor mentioned to Mimzy.
"Oh yeah! Here's to old friends, and their importance in this lousy old town!"
As Mimzy was making her toast to Alastor and Rosie, Jersey glanced at the alcohol in his hand. On the surface, it looked like an ordinary moscato. Then, Jersey smelled the drink, and alarm bells rang in his head.
'There's something in this drink. It's not water... In fact, there's holy energy in this drink!' It was a startling revelation, and his eyes darted to the non the wiser trio lifting their glasses to drink.
"Wait." The loudness of Jersey's voice was not abnormal, but there was a commanding presence in the words that left his lips, that everyone at the table stopped mid clink. The waiter who had delivered the drinks flinched ever so slightly.
"Is there something wrong, sir?" The waiter asked.
Jersey turned his attention to the server, and he made certain to not glare or act especially unusual. "I just remembered something rather profound: a Chinese proverb. 'When a master requires refreshment, the servant partakes of it first.'"
Truth be told, such a proverb was half true: an analogical exaggeration of the relationship between a father and son and a servant and their master. Either way, the true purpose of this messily made quip was for Jersey to test the sincerity of the waiter while keeping himself and his acquaintances safe.
Everyone at the table became visibly confused as they heard the explanation. "How... quaint." Rosie stated awkwardly. "What does that have to do with anything, Jersey?"
"This waiter has been so courteous as to provide our drinks in a timely manner. I wish to reward this man for his excellent service." With a disarming, crafted grin, Jersey stretched his glass of moscato towards the waiter, whose wide grin began to falter. "Have a drink, good sir."
"Umm... I'm quite good, thank you." The cat demon answered. "I'm not permitted to drink while on duty, you know."
"I insist!" Jersey said brightly. "I'll pay you as compensation, if you are so worried about having your paycheck docked. After all, it's just moscato, right?"
"You are... very generous, um, sir. But um, I assure you, I don't need any extra money." The waiter's right hand was slowly creeping behind his back, a movement which did not escape Jersey's sharp eyes.
"Just a sip. That's all I request. After all, the customer is always right, yes?"
The rest of the table looked on uncomfortably. Not one dared to raise their glass to their mouth.
The waiter's smile started to become forced. Then things appeared to happen all at once. His right arm jerked around his body towards the table. Jersey left his seat so quickly, none of his fellow guests saw the movement. A shot rang out, and the waiter was thrown onto the table, with Alastor, Mimzy, and barely managing to move their drinks out of the way of the crashing server.
"Jersey, what the hell?!" Mimzy exclaimed.
To the side, Alastor looked both astonished and intrigued by this turn of events. Rosie was quite put off by the sudden escalation of what was to be a simple dinner discussing business and old kinship. Mimzy was beside herself at this violent disruption of what was supposed to be a time to rekindle an old friendship.
Jersey lifted his left hand, which was tightly gripped around the wrist of the cat demon who was now at his mercy. In his hand, a revolver was smoking from the barrel. "I wonder, Miss Mimzy, do you permit your employees to draw their weapons on customers for something like a drink request?"
Mimzy could not answer. She was stunned to see that one of the people she had a hand in hiring would pull a weapon while she was in close proximity.
Jersey squeezed the waiter's wrist, and a dull crack signaled that his hand was dislocated. With a yelp of pain, the fingers around the handle let go, and the revolver dropped to the side of him.
"Alastor, check the ammunition in that gun."
The Radio Demon silently followed the request. After a few seconds of trying to figure out how to move the cylinder out of the frame, he saw that the five remaining bullets were eerily shiny, with a dull glow emanating from their casing.
"Blessed bullets." Alastor said with an ominous undertone. "I wonder why a humble waiter would be carrying such volatile ammunition."
Rosie'a lips drew back with fury. Mimzy was speechless.
"The better question is why he tried to poison us." Jersey added.
"Poison?!" Mimzy exclaimed.
"Yeah. My moscato smelled funny, and I sense an energy coming from the drink that's similar to the bullets."
Rosie and Mimzy left their drinks on the table as if they had been burned. All eyes were on the incapacitated cat demon as murmurs could be heard in the restaurant.
"Who hired you?" Jersey asked. "And before you act like a smartass, I'm talking about your assassination attempt on us."
"I don't know what you're talking about you paranoid lunatic. There's no poison in your drinks."
"Oh really?" Jersey grabbed the face of the waiter and kept his mouth agonizingly pried open. "Rosie. Pour my drink down his mouth. We'll see if our drinks are so innocent, as he claims."
Rosie glared down at the waiter. "I'll be interested to see the result." Gracefully, she rose from her seat and grabbed the glass of moscato from where Jersey was originally seated. She was just inches from having the glass above the waiter's mouth when he began to struggle.
"Okay! Okay!" The cat demon gurgled in response. "I poisoned them you fucking freaks."
Rosie and Alastor leered down menacingly at the man who attempted to end their afterlives. Mimzy just stared on with a betrayed look on her face.
"You are a waiter serving the Maribou's Roost. Why would you want to poison us?" Jersey pressed, moving his hand down from the waiter's face to the collar of his suit.
"Fuck you."
"Give up whoever hired you, and any conspirators that are working with you, and I'll vouch to have you spared from being destroyed." Jersey negotiated.
This time, the cat demon did not even respond.
"I think detaining this scoundrel will suffice for now." Alastor remarked. "I would like nothing less than to deal with him later."
"As long as I get to be present. I would like to break him for this treachery." Rosie said.
"Security!" Mimzy exclaimed.
The matter was soon handled, with Mimzy giving specific orders to have the now fired waiter bound and gagged for further interrogation. As the waiter was muzzled and taken away by two burly bouncers, the drinks were disposed of by a very shocked Wallace. As the dining table was tidied up, Rosie asked a question that was on everyone's mind.
"Jersey, how on Earth did you know those drinks were poisoned?"
"Indeed," added Alastor, "even my senses are not nearly so potent."
"To make a long story short," Jersey explained, "on the day I arrived in Pentagram City, I sensed a dangerous energy coming from the spears that those creepy abominations wield on every annual clensing."
"Exterminators." Alastor remarked.
Jersey nodded. "I sensed a similar energy coming from my drink, as well as yours. I didn't just scream out that our drinks were poisoned, because one, you would not believe me, and two, I wanted to handle that suspicious waiter."
"Who was that chap who so needlessly disrupted our evening?" Alastor asked.
"His name's Iago." Mimzy answered. "He had been an employee for about three months, and nothin' ever gave me the idea he was some kinda assassin."
"I think you should review your staff, given this breach of your trust." Jersey recommended.
Mimzy nodded gravely in response. "I'm sorry you guys. This whole night has been turned upside down."
"Oh come now, Mimzy my dear." Alastor remarked with an encouraging tone. "The evening is still young, and we are all safe and well. Let's not let that Iago fellow's treachery ruin the mood of this occasion."
The flapper demon gave a grateful smile. "You always knew what to say to cheer me up..."
"I'm glad you think so, old friend, for tonight is also of a much more serious matter." Alastor remarked with a hushed, conspiratorial volume.
"I assume it may have something to do with the fiend who so callously tried to have us murdered." Rosie stated.
Alastor nodded, his grin becoming slightly marred with anger.
"Al?" Mimzy asked.
"I must ask you three to forgive me. It appears that in my desire to meet up with you, I underestimated one of my less pleasant rivals."
"Rival? What rival?" Jersey asked.
Alastor locked eyes with the plumber, only to look to the side and see Wallace approaching the table once more. He had a new platter of drinks for them.
"I wish to apologize once more for how this evening has been turning out." Wallace said in atonement.
"Don't beat ya self up over it, Wally. It's not your fault." Mimzy assured with a kind smile.
"I'm glad that none of you were hurt, all the same. The drinks are all clean. I should know. I made them all by hand, with Oscar watching closely."
Jersey leaned up and smelled the air for all to see. "He's right. The drinks smell clean."
"Thanks, Wally." Mimzy praised.
As Wallace departed with a grateful bow once more, Alastor cleared his throat to speak once more. "I think it is best that I immediately get down to business before we engage with any toasts or merriment."
"But why?" Mimzy asked.
"What just happened a few minutes ago proved my point. Vox is becoming an issue. Not just for me, but for anyone associated with me."
"Who's Vox?" Jersey asked.
"Another Overlord like myself and Rosie." Alastor explained. "He is a vile, uncultured thug who fancies himself as the embodiment of sinful cosmopolitan 'advancement.'"
"It sounds like you two have quite the history."
"Animosity is more like it." Alastor remarked with no shortage of contempt in his voice. "He represents everything I despise in this vice riddled metropolis. The man is an arrogant hooligan, and the bane of my existance. This is but one of his frequent attempts to have me relegated as not only a distant memory, but as another corpse."
"Vox was be-?!" Mimzy was cut off by Alastor, who deigned to cover her mouth with an outstretched hand over her mouth. The gleam in his eyes was unusually defensive.
"Not so loud, my dear." He continued as he removed his palm and sensed about for any eavesdropping. "Yes, I suspect that Vox had a hand in the assassination attempt we just went through."
"Yet you have no proof." Rosie commented, being objective about the accusation.
"No, I have none." The Radio Demon admitted. "It would make sense, as I did contact you and Mimzy over the telephone to organize this meeting. Between his hatred of me and his potential dislike of you two as close associates of mine, he would be reckless enough to pull something like this."
"Sounds like you were careless." Jersey drawled.
"It was a terrible oversight. I should have maintained discretion, perhaps used a different medium of communication. Just another lesson relearned, and they say that old dogs cannot learn new tricks." Alastor's smile lessened. "You ladies will have to forgive this fool for endangering you. It is inexcusable."
"You know I forgive ya, Al." Mimzy wrung her hands. "I guess I can see why he wouldn't care if I was turned into worm food. But would he really do it to Rosie?"
The female Overlord's smile became snarled as she was reminded of her near brush with liquid death. "Vox and I have never had many interactions. We have kept our relationship distant, but civil. I wonder if he wishes to relegate me to a fate similar to how he wishes to undo you, Alastor."
"You are not a pinnacle of modernity, my friend. Vox does have some obsession with progress, regardless if it comes at the expense of others."
"And I am thankful for my love of antiquity now more than ever." Rosie huffed. "I will not change for anyone, least not Vox and his lot."
"I think now, more than ever, we need to strengthen our professional relationship. Perhaps not in an explicit partnership as the Three V's, but a silent agreement to safeguard our interests. The chief interest being survival."
"Survival?" Mimzy asked.
"Absolutely." Alastor replied seriously. "Say that Vox or his hedonistic partners successfully do me in. What's to stop them from going further to stop either of you from gaining any further power or influence? If they wish to increase their power to the point of being the biggest players within the realm of being sinners, it's a logical conclusion."
"That still does not explain why Vox of all people would want to drag multiple Overlords into one conflict." Rosie countered. "I'm hardly the most influential outside of Cannibal Colony, but there are other sinners and Overlords with greater power and organization than myself. Take Henroin for example: his monopoly over the drug trade is unrivaled."
"He also has a veritable army of mafiosos at his beck and call." Alastor reminded Rosie. "I have my... unique capabilities, and you two have your own employees, only a fraction of whom are trained in the savage vigors of battle.
"With Henroin, Vox and Valentino would probably engage with parley. He has comparable resources to Valentino himself, and he has multiple contracts and alliances with other parties invested with his dubious trade. Besides, we have one thing in common the other Overlords don't, a unity based around our rejection of contemporary sinfulness."
"Would that really be enough grounds for conflict?" Rosie pressed.
"Wars have been fought over less." Alastor replied. "I think after decades of me persisting, Vox may be leveraging his power with the Three V's to finally do me in. That man we detained might be the key to proving the voracity of my fears."
"Then we'll have to see about focusing on interrogation before punishment. Rosie concluded as she grabbed up her new glass of red wine. "First, the toast. I'm quite parched."
"Much agreed." The four dinner guests raised their glasses in rough unison. "Here's to prosperity in this wretched afterlife." The two women present gave verbal ascent to the sentiment, but Jersey remained quiet. He did give the curtesy of softly bumping glasses with the others, however.
As he braced for what sounded like copious amounts of dry negotiation and reminiscing, he could determine one thing for certain: the sweet taste of moscato was quite satisfying.
For those wondering about the Mimzy song section, it was wholly inspired by a YouTube Video by SpinelStar: "Mimzy (ft. RowenR9) - Parody of Roxie - Hazbin Hotel. I highly recommend checking out her Mimzy singing impressions.
Hello viewers! I wanted to give what I believe to be a much needed update about the direction of this fanfiction. No, I am not giving up on this story. However, the lack of substantial content from the creators of Hazbin Hotel have been a disappointment and obstacle in terms of thinking of plot lines moving down the line. I'm not nearly talented enough to think of great arcs beyond the material given the pilot, the official comics, and statements from Vivziepop and others. The only updates I can recall off the top of my head relate to the new character designs and recasting of numerous characters. I don't plan on copying plot lines from the Hazbin Hotel story lines, but seeing more official content would help me to accurately flesh out the world, especially along the lines of setting, character interactions, and potential arcs in the making.
I have been very happy with what has been shown in the Helluva Boss series, but Hazbin Devil will only intersect with Helluva Boss marginally. It cannot replace Hazbin Hotel in terms of fleshing out the world in general beyond the Ars Goetia and the realms and cities beyond Pentagram City
A slowdown, I believe, is in order. Chapters will be fewer and more far between, but I think this will guarantee quality chapters. I have been focused on two other fan fictions over the past two months, and have been extremely happy with what I have been doing as of late. If you are interested, check out my other mainline stories: A Wild Odyssey and Team Fortress 2: A Smashing Time. As far as Hazbin Devil, the next chapter will be somewhat shorter, so it will probably get in before the holiday season.
I would like to thank the 200 plus followers and favorites of this story from the bottom of my heart. I never imagined that I would incur such a following for a mere hobby. I'll be seeing you guys around next time.