Chapter 4: Leverage

Red Nightmare sighed in satisfaction: a job well done. Something ate at him though. The look in that dogodile's eyes, the hatred and promise of revenge. Odds were good he'd take this whole business personally now. Would he take it so far as to continue pushing into their territory like a fool, or would he pass the message along first and then go rogue? Only time would tell. His lover's death was, unfortunately, unavoidable. Rashness and heat-of-the-moment decisions were an inevitable consequence of this business, still, she should have kept a level head. Perhaps if he delivered her body, cleaned and whole, respected, as a peace offering. Would that defuse at least some of the bad blood? It bore consideration.

"Hey," came a familiar voice. "Don't forget this."

Red turned around to see Setty, looming over the demoness who, to his surprise, was actually still alive, although clearly beyond saving. In Setty's hand was a heavy, bell-shaped object, the glint off its surface betraying its composition: solid Seraphim Steel.

"I'll be sure to use it…" Setty growled, raising it over her head like a club. "BEFORE I CUT!"

The elf-demon made a feeble attempt to cover her face as the bludgeon came down in a shimmering arc. The heavy 'thwock' of impact echoed in the crypt-like room. Setty snarled and hissed as she brought the thing down again and again and again, bone crunching and blood and other things splattering, hissing and sizzling upon the angelic metal.

"NO! ONE! TREATS! MY! GIRLS! LIKE! THAT!" Setty roared, blood and brain dripping down her exquisite face as it twisted into a mask of rage and hatred. "BITCH!"

Setty growled one last time and tossed the club away as though it wasn't worth more than the orphanage and Carriage House put together. With a final spit upon the twitching corpse, she stormed off to where the incubus, Trell, was sitting, curled up as he hugged his knees, staring off into nothing.

Oh, well. So much for that option. He'd hardly smooth any hackles by sending the body as it was now, but allowances must be made for youthful exuberance. Regardless, Red found himself increasingly impressed with the young succubus' tenacity and resolve; she was strong-willed and vicious, his instincts telling him she would be useful going forward. Her dedication to the health and safety of her wards was also admirable, even if she had the personality of sandpaper. She would be one to keep an eye on, and no mistake.

Red bent over and gathered up the club, the blood and tissue upon rapidly evaporating. Upon examining it he noted it was actually a stamp, or rather, a branding iron. No doubt the same one used to mark up the boy's face. If he could get this back to the 'Donna's doctor, it was likely that the full measure of the wound could be calculated and the purified tissue removed, allowing for a cleaner healing process. It would also be exactly the proof he needed to convince Belladonna of the gravity of the situation. He tucked the brand into his breast pocket and knelt next to the corpse, taking note of the enchanted rings on her fingers. A bit of fussing and they and their corresponding knives were bundled in his hand. Ten rings and nine knives in total, the remaining blade now wherever the rest of her gang was. Her last act was to cover her team's escape and save her recalcitrant lover. A pity she had to threaten Setty, such a demon might have been useful. He left the last band on her ring finger.

Oh, well.

He rose to his feet and made his way over to his wards.

Setty sighed and readjusted her top. In the excitement she'd slipped out, not that modesty was a notion she was even remotely acquainted with. Once everything was back in its place she sat down next to Trell. The moment she did he, despite his thousand yard stare, reached into his pocket and handed her a pack of cigarettes. Setty breathed a sigh of relief and took them, gratefully. She popped one into her mouth and winked at the tip, lighting it. She took one long drag and held it, shuddering as she breathed it out, the flush of nicotine a welcome jolt of something besides adrenaline. She noticed the slight tremor in her hand as she held the smoke, she tried to will it away but found herself unable. That hadn't been the first time she'd faced death. Shit, it wasn't even the first time she had a knife to her throat that year. But this time was different.

This was just the beginning.


Of what, she couldn't quite say, but there was this inexorable sense of things in motion, big things, the world around her crawling towards… something. Good? Bad? She'd long since given up trying to predict her own fate, as a low-born succubus that was well out of her hands. But things were changing, building and swelling. She was gripped with the unshakable notion that life as she knew it was over, for her and the rest of the kids. And all because of…

A dark shadow fell over her. She looked up, and up, and up - fuck, why was this asshole so tall? - meeting the emerald gaze of Red Nightmare. She gazed up at him, expression wan and tired, and offered a smoke. He smiled and silently demurred.

"Are you alright?"

"No," she said, rolling her eyes. "But I'll live. Hey, I gotta say, you did pretty good back there."

"As did you," he said, offering his hand, his scary metal bling now off to wherever they were when he wasn't wearing them. "I'm impressed."

"Whatever," Setty grunted, getting to her feet on her own. "We better get back to the trucks, if Evil Eye hasn't already fucked off."

Red was grinning now, an amused glint in his eyes. "He hasn't."

Setty eyed him up for a second, before turning to Trell. "Oi, Trell. C'mon. Time to go."

Trell said nothing, staring. She leaned over and snapped her fingers a few times, the incubus didn't so much as blink.

"Well, Trell's gone bye-bye," Setty said. "He'll out of it for a day or so, usually.."

"Usually?" Red said, cocking his head. "This has happened before?"

"Not this exact thing, but yeah." Setty reached down to try and pull the boy up. "He's a sensitive kid. Demure. It's part of his draw. But sometimes he can't switch off like the rest of us do, takes too much in."

Red stepped in and plucked Trell off the ground like a handbag, cradling him in his arms. He squeaked a bit at this before automatically wrapping his arms around the Sinner's neck and nestling his face into his shoulder. Red didn't seem particularly moved by this, but neither did it seem to bother him.

"Let's go."

Setty followed after him before stopping, turning back to the dead Sinner. "Go on ahead. Let me grab something."

She knelt next to the elf-bitch and smirked, rifling through her pockets, producing a wallet stuffed with $oul bills of various value - three hundred in all - a set of keys to a no-doubt fancy car, and an expensive-looking enchanted make-up kit. "To the victor, bitch."

A squeak drew her attention to the surviving Goldies, huddled in the corner, their eyes wide as they clung to one another, trembling.

Setty drew on her cigarette and blew a puff of smoke. "You still here? Get the fuck outta our turf. If I see your faces again, I'll knit 'em into tea cozies."

The Goldies' nerves broke and they scrambled away for the back door, sobbing. Setty sighed and got to her feet, pocketing her spoils before heading on after Red.

Setty squinted as she approached the exit, the light pricking her eyes. A greasy black smear drew her attention to the other side of the opened door, the source a pile of stinking unmentionables. It was only when she stepped outside and saw the rest of the Goldie's remains that she pieced together what had happened.

"Heh…" She muttered, kicking aside the partially flayed skull of the incubus. "Hardcore."

They made their way over to a large van with the logo 'Pies'n'Thighs: Imp City's Most Adequate Pizza and Fried Chicken Six Months Running!' on the side. A little cartoon imp smiled as he held up a bucket of chicken and a pizza box, proudly exclaiming 'now with 50% less pubic hair!' Sitting behind the wheel was a petrified satyr delivery boy, his eyes wide and shining with terror.

"Why didn't he peel out?" Setty muttered to herself.

Red walked by, Trell in his arms. "I asked him not to."

Wordlessly, they filed into the van, Red holding his phone out to the delivery boy, showing him the address. "To here."

With a squeak that might have been a 'yes sir', he put the van into gear and it trundled off. It wasn't a long ride, maybe five minutes, and they were back at the rally point. She mused how long ago all that seemed now, even though it couldn't have been much more than half an hour. On the sidewalk were the kids, her girls comforting Ixie as he sniffled on the sidewalk. Oddy, both of the drivers were sitting on the curb, hands tied behind their backs with cloth gags in their mouths as Syx watched over them. All heads perked up when the pizza van rolled to a stop, their eyes lighting up as Setty and Trell stepped out, a cheer filled the air.

"Setty!" Sash exclaimed, noting her disheveled state. "What happened?"

"Some cocksuckers fucked around," she said, lighting up another cigarette. "And found out. Girls, get over here, Trell needs some TLC until he leaves his happyplace."

The girls took the battered, spaced-out incubus into their ranks, cooing and soothing as they wrapped him in a blanket. Setty made her way over to Syx, glancing at the bound Sinners. "I see you've held things down while I've been gone."

"Good to have you back," Syx signed, almost smiling. "How bad?"

"Bad," she grunted. "Sinners working for the Vees were trying to make inroads here."

Syx perked up at this, eyebrow raised. "And?"

She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder as Red Nightmare stepped out of the van, causing it to pop back up on its punished suspension. "They hit a speedbump."

"He's not like the rest of them, is he? Syx signed, pursing his lips together.

"No," she said, turning to see Red scanning the crowd, no doubt looking for missing heads, finding none. "I don't think there's anyone quite like him in all of Hell."

"Syx!" He called out, making his way over, noting the bound staff members. "Tried to run, did they?"

"Klk."

"Good work," Red said, cocking his head. "You gagged them?"

Syx, to Setty's surprise, didn't simply click 'yes', but instead actually bothered to shoot the Sinner a series of terse signs, prompting her to translate. "He says their bitching was getting on his nerves."

"Very good," Red said, amused. "Ungag them, please."

Syx nodded and reached behind their heads, undoing the simple knots there. They spat out their gags and glowered, one of them got to his knees and shuffled over to Syx.

"Get me outta these ropes, you little shit!" He roared. "Right now! Who the fuck do you think you are you fuckin' ringscraper! I'll have you know I'm Ma's bud! She'll hear about this and when she does she'll let me make fuckin' boots outta the lot of you!"

"Could someone please scratch my nose?" Mumbled the other, scrunching his face. "I've had an itch for, like, twenty minutes."

"Listen carefully, now," Red announced, getting both of their attention. "Here's what went down. It was business as usual until some of the Vees minions showed up. They branded our wares and roughed up a few of them, but we managed to fend them off. Unfortunately, Eye Watkins did not survive. Understood?"

"Yuh yuh yuh!" Itchy said, nodding feverishly. "Whatever you say, bossman!"

"Fuck off, you pathetic piece'a shit!" The Shouty One snarled, spitting at Itchy before turning to Red, glaring. "Who the fuck do you think you are?! You think you can just threaten and kill us and get away with it!?"

"Yes."

"Well, I ain't playin' your game!" Shouty roared. "I'm gonna tell Ma what you did! And I'm gonna tell her you're messin' wit' the merchandise, too! You think you can just waltz in here and–"

Red kicked out as though punting a tin can, his foot and shin suddenly encased in a Seraphim Steel sabaton and greave. Where Shouty's upper torso had been a second before was now an expanding cloud of pulverized chunks and fine, pink mist, his head bouncing off the side of the building and rolling on the sidewalk. His arms, still bound, fell to the pavement, terminating at the shoulders in bloody stumps.

Red turned to Itchy. "Here's what went down. It was business as usual until some of the Vees minions showed up. They branded our wares and roughed up a few of them, but we managed to fend them off. Unfortunately, Eye Watkins and, er, that guy did not survive. Understood?"

Itchy boggled at the bleeding stump that remained of his coworker, eyes bugging out of his skull.

"Understood?" Red reiterated, eyes narrowing.

"Yuh yuh tuh!" Itchy squealed, nodding so hard he threatened to topple over. "Gotcha! Whatever you say, bossman!"

"Good…" Red turned back to the children, who were staring at him with a mix of fear and awe. "Well, I'd say that's the end of the work day. Who wants pizza?"

The kids looked among themselves, perplexed. What did he just say? Since when did they get to eat pizza?

One of the ragamuffins, an adorable clubfooted imp named Tobi, raised his hand. "I'd like some pizza, Mr. Red, sir."

Red smirked and looked to the pizza boy, who was still frozen in terror. "Well? Get these kids their pizza!"


Setty sat in the infirmary, puffing idly on a cigarette.

"Put that out," grumbled Doc Habbo, the 'Donna's only medical option.

Setty made a point of snuffing her current cigarette and lighting another.

"Ach…" Doc Habbo sighed and waved her off before turning back to his work of examining the brand on a supremely stoned Ixie. "Yep. It's purified alright. Good news is, the eye's fine. Bad news, I have no way of knowing how deep the purification goes. If I don't get it all the first time, it'll fester under the sutures and interfere with healing, which means a lot of excess scar tissue. Now, if I had whatever made it, I'd be able to gauge the level of tissue purification…"

Setty got to her feet and walked over to his workstation, the wide, hunched shoulders of the Sinner moving slightly as he inspected. She reached into her purse and set the Vees brand down on his work-table with a resounding 'wham'. Doc didn't jump at the sudden noise. The old fart had nerves like railroad tracks. He turned around, resembling some kind of odd mix of an ape and a goat, with short, straight caprine horns.

"Ayuh," he grunted, notching his spectacles down his simian snout as he examined the brand. "That'd do it. Never thought I'd see the like. The craftsmanship is exquisite–"

"What d'you think?" Setty said, tersely, looking at Ixie, his eyes distant and glazed. "How bad?"

"Hm?" Doc looked up from the heavy brand he was holding in his hand-feet. "Can't say. Could be a week, could be a month. All depends on how much has been purified."

"I didn't ask 'how long'," said Setty, turning back to him. "I said 'how bad'."

Habbo shrugged, brandishing the holy-metal stamp. "Now that I have this I'm pretty sure I can get all of it… he'll have a scar, but he won't be branded, and if can get most of it, even the scarring should be mild, given the injury. Some foundation, a bit of color coordination, should barely show."

"I don't think that'll matter for much longer…" Setty murmured.

"Pardon?"

"How much longer do you think you'll need that?" She pointed to the brand. "Boss Lady'll want to see it."

"Hm? Yes. Yeah, right." The apish doctor rummaged around in his cupboards for a moment before producing a pair of calipers. As he performed a quick series of measurements with his main hands he took his notes with his feet-hands and tossed the heavy thing back. "There. That should do it. Though, if I need to reassess…?"

"Talk to Boss Lady," Setty said, heading out the door.

"Not if I can help it…" Habbo grunted before calling after her. "Don't think I didn't notice! Get back here after you're done and I'll look at those ribs you suspect are broken!"

"Whatever."

"Look after yourself, Setty…" Habbo muttered, turning back to Ixie and pulling out a tray of surgical instruments. "Alright kid, the sooner the better. What's your poison?"

"Whiskey…" He slurred.

"Bathtub or bottle?"

"Bottle, please…"

"Hrph!" Doc Habbo grunted, reaching under his desk and producing an unopened bottle of Wrath T. Walker whiskey, capping it and handing it to the lad. "Don't ever say I don't spoil you brats."


Setty marched down the hallway, it was between 'classes' and they were empty. Two-hundred kids at this shithole and every single one had a job, even accounting for the early shift her and Syx's teams had to hand in. Off to the sewing line and sweatshop, spares! Setty would admit to herself that on some level she admired how Boss Lady could turn the profit she did. It couldn't have been easy. She considered the Boss Lady's methods and sourly recalled that if you love your job, you don't work a day.

Shuffling footsteps and squeaking wheels drew her attention up the hall. A trio of ragamuffins were pushing around the janitor's cart, not one of them could have been older than ten. The eldest was dutifully mopping the floor, spreading around the sudsy water as the second oldest scrubbed with a stiff brush, the youngest pumping water and adding the detergent to the reservoir. Setty approached them and stopped, the bubbly, faux-lemony slurry just short of her high-heels.

"Sorry!" The eldest exclaimed, setting down a crude, makeshift 'warning: slippy' sign with a 'clack'. "No walkin' 'till the floor's dry."

Setty looked down at the little imp, her expression flat.

"Them's the rules."

Her eyes narrowed.

With an almost audible deflation, the 'leader' knelt down on the floor before laying belly-down on the puddle, making a bridge with his body. With that, Setty leapt into the air and glided over the slippery section and continued down the hall. The grumbles of the now-soaked leader and stifled giggles from the other two echoed after her. Before long she was approaching Boss Lady's office. The door was wooden and elaborately carved, with a gold-plated placard reading "Lady Belladonna". It looked wildly out of place against the grim austerity of the hallway and, honestly, the rest of the building. Setty silenced her footsteps, creeping up on the door with that practiced, catlike tread. She pressed up against the door and listened.

"...re you sure?" Came Boss Lady's voice, a lilt of concern as clear as the horns on her head. "Not some… posers, perhaps? Some higher-end thugs putting up a smoke screen?"

Next came Red's voice: "They were armed with blessing-tipped firearms, heavily armed. There's more." There was a clunk of something metallic on wood. "Took this off of one of them. Seraphim Steel with an enchanted handle and control-ring. Pretty expensive kit for some higher-end thugs."

"Well," she said, her chair creaking as she sat back in it. "There's a war on, you know. All kinds of weapons are flooding the streets, even out here."

"Indeed," said Red, raising his voice so that it carried. "Setty. You may enter."

"What–"

Setty stepped away from the door, taken aback, before steeling herself and grabbing the handle, letting herself in. The Boss Lady's digs were opulent, with ornate hardwood furniture, purple-dyed silk curtains, and a blood-red carpet. Three guesses to where most of the money the kids made actually went. Standing tall before her desk was Red Nightmare, hands folded behind his back, regarding her with a cool, calm stare. Behind the desk was the Boss Lady herself, a look of perplexed interest on her face.

She was a large Sinner, both in height and proportions, not as tall as Red, but broad-shouldered with even wider hips, her impressive rack held up by unknown means over the respectable swell of her belly. Her countenance was some odd mix of bovine and caprine. No one could quite decide which barnyard animal she resembled the most. Despite having never met a cow or a goat, Setty surmised the comparison would be considered deeply insulting… to the animals. Her thick, black hair was done up in a tall, tight bun between her horns, contrasting with the downy gray of her face. Her tyrian eyes narrowed behind the wide-set reading glasses resting upon her snout, her muzzle curling into a frown. She stood up from behind her desk, red-polished hoof-hands resting atop it, looking at her expectantly.

"I–" Setty began.

"You were not given permission to speak," Belladonna snapped, before beckoning her. "Come here, then! What's that you've got?"

Setty nodded and approached the desk, reaching into her purse and producing the brand, setting it on the desktop. Lady Belladonna leaned forward and examined the item, her eyes widening in amazement and terror. After a moment she remembered Setty's presence and shooed her away, snarling: "Get out!"

Setty did and closed the door behind her, loudly clopping down the hallway until she felt she was far enough away. With that, she leapt into the air and glided back over to the door, silently setting down and pressing her ear to it, listening.


"What…" she said, nervously reaching out for the brand, picking it up and feeling its weight. "What does this mean?"

"It means the Vees are expanding their operation backwards while everyone looks to PC Central, as I predicted." Red walked over to the window and peeked through the curtains with a finger, overlooking the Carriage House. "They're bogged down taking turf on the front, but they sent five high-middle operatives, henchmen-rank at least, to subdue and recruit locals and build a presence back here."

"I mean, what does that mean for us!" She barked, lip curling away from her decidedly non-herbivorous fangs. "Do you think there'll be war with the Vees?"

"Hard to say," said Red, turning back to her. "I roughed up the henches and sent them packing with a message. With any luck and common sense, they'll pass it along to their bosses who, if they're smart, will sue for further negotiations."

Belladonna nodded, tapping a hard, red-polished hoof to her ruby-red lips. "I see. If they know that there's someone out here who can hit back while their forces are preoccupied, they may just leave us alone. Good thinking, Red."

He nodded. "That's why you hired me."

"Well, I didn't hire you to be an orphanage manager, that's for sure!" She said, chuckling bleakly. "Actually, I think I need a vacation. You interested?"

"A bit outside my wheelhouse," Red said, chuckling.

"...For now…" Belladonna muttered, squinting at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, nothing! It's just so refreshing to have an overachiever in our midst!" She regarded him for a second, keen eyes reading the ever-so-slight tension in his shoulders and posture. "Something else to mention, Red?"

"I believe it would benefit us to sweeten the pot." Red reached over and pulled back the curtains, revealing the baroquely-styled building on the far side of the courtyard. "I think it's in our best interests to shutter the Carriage House and suspend our 'services' department."

Belladonna's eyes narrowed, her voice dropping an octave. "What."

"I said–"

"I heard you!" She snapped, slamming her hands down on the desktop. "That's half our income! Why would we do that?!"

"Well, you see," Red said, patiently. "The Vees are moving in. There's no preventing that. At present, they can't bring their full force to bear, and are therefore in a vulnerable position, and they know it. I can't fight an entire army, they know this too, but they also know that withdrawing that much muscle from the more profitable turf in PC Central will cost them dearly overall. However, when things calm down and they set up operations in earnest, they will not tolerate any competition. Our chop-shops and textiles mean nothing to them, Vox and Velvet are media moguls, after all. They're more interested in casinos, studios, open venues, and the accommodations necessary for a taxable population. Sexwork, on the other hand…"

"Yes…" Belladonna said, her voice low as she sat back down, dread clear on her face. "Valentino."

"Exactly," Red nodded. "I'll admit, you sell a quality product. One Val would certainly chafe at parading about on his border. We're talking skirmishes, casualties, lost wages, and that's if he doesn't just crush us outright once his armies are freed up. Being prepared to shut down our only area of overlap with them is the best chance we have at hammering out a lasting peace."

Belladonna was silent for a moment, a long moment, stewing as she glanced out at the Carriage House and then down to her Hell mahogany desk, contemplating. "This isn't why I hired you, Red. I hired you to expand this operation, not curtail it!"

"The liquidation of our services department will free up manpower that we can channel into other venues," Red replied. "My chauffeur Kabby knows his way around modern vehicles and has already offered several tips regarding parts acquisition and sale. With additional hands, he could increase the Shop's profits by 45% within a month."

"45%...?" Belladonna considered this a moment, mulling it over. "And I suppose Laila in Home Ec would always welcome a dozen or so permanent seamstresses on the line… heh! Setty would throw a fit if she was knocked off her high horse and into a sweatshop!"

Red cleared his throat, shaking his head. "I'm afraid I'll be needing that one."

"Oh?" Belladonna snorted. "Why? Sweet on her? You like your peaches sour, bitter, and underripe?"

"She displays a brutality and tenacity that our street acquisitions department will need if we're going to expand from petty theft to grand theft auto," he said, before noting. "And she gets along with Syx, who is also vital in that regard."

"You don't need to tell me that!" Belladonna scoffed. "Syx is our golden boy! Strong, ruthless, dependable… taciturn."

"Indeed."

"Hrm," she grunted, setting her wide, shapely rump back down on her chair, causing it to groan in protest. "What's the timeline?"

"A week, maybe sooner, depending on when those henchmen get back to me."

"Me~" She corrected, drawing the last syllable out.

"...You," Red obliged.

"Well then, I'll just have those hussies bust double-shifts until then," she said, smirking. "Put out a discount on Carriage House services, say 20%. Yes, that'll get the income up for the coming dry-spell."

"I believe that increasing our operation on that front would be inadvisable until we've gotten word back. It could be interpreted as–"

"As what? Provocation?" Belladonna said, waving him off. "As you said, we should be prepared to take our services department off the table, not preemptively shutter our operations. Why do the negotiating for them? They might just ask for more capitulations."

Red paused and considered this before nodding. "Still, in the meantime we should focus on expanding our operation in other–"

"My operation, Red," she corrected, her smile now a lot less friendly and vacuous. "That's twice now, and I never allow a third."

Red froze, staring at her, cocking an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Time to nip this in the bud, I think." Lady Belladonna chuckled, a grin crawling across her features. "Oh, Red… Red, Red, Red… Do you honestly think I haven't noticed what you've been getting up to?"

Red said nothing.

"I'm no fool, boy," she said, reclining in her long-suffering chair. "What was it you said in your interview? 'Doing my job in five years'? That's not a threat we take lightly Down Here. You were planning on, what, setting up a proper operation under my nose and then killing me and taking over?"

Red said nothing, staring at her with a flat, disinterested expression on his face.

"Such ambition! It's part of why I hired you. I knew you'd get things done if it meant furthering your goals and fulfilling your dreams." She laughed again. "A demon with your obvious experience and, heh, capacity for violence showing up at my door, asking for a job? That sort of thing never fails to raise eyebrows. To say nothing of your fancy suit and wonderful toys. Did you actually think I'd bring you in without a few precautions? Without… leverage?"

His eyes narrowed, his broad shoulders bunching.

"Ah ah ah!" She trilled, wagging her finger. "Unless you want what I know hitting the streets, you'll take a seat." She pointed to the chair opposite her desk. "Sit."

Red paused, not taking his eyes off of her. He made his way over and took a seat, the hardy Hell-mahogony groaning under his weight.

With that, Belladonna continued. "I knew who you were before you walked in. Who wouldn't? You made quite the first impression at that obscene casino. But what really intrigued me was the timing. You showing up here in that fancy suit and asking for a job? Most of my applicants are small-time thugs looking for free digs and cheap slash. But you? Here? You could be making real money with Von Eldritch, not slumming it in some pigsty! But, then again, all that business at the Duke's palace had just gone down, hadn't it?"

She let this question hang in the air, simmering, marinating in the burly Sinner's mind, before continuing: "Someone wants to keep a low profile. Wants to marshal his forces before… well, I'm quite sure I don't know what your plans are, but for now, they're on hold."

She got to her feet and walked around the desk, slowly, as though approaching a dangerous animal. "I'll allow you to remain under my employ, the insult to my intelligence notwithstanding, but I'll need some… assurances."

He looked up at her, the air singing with his fury. "Assurances?"

She extended her hand, arcs of green Pact energy surging through it. "A Deal. You are my employee, you follow my edicts when it comes to running my business. Also, you are henceforth not, by action or inaction, to allow me to come to harm."

He examined her hand, fingers tensed, flexing into claws.

"No doubt wondering if you should just kill me now, yes?" She lowed a throaty chuckle. "I have connections, you know. Connections to the Goetia. It would be a shame should any of what I know reach their ears. In fact, should I perish under questionable circumstances, well… I guess you could say I'm a cautious person."

Red's eyes shot up to hers, peering into her eyes, scanning for a tell. She relished the feeling, the helplessness, the fear and anger and hate. It was sweet.

His hand reached out and, after a moment's hesitation, took hers. Green sparks arced and flashed, filling the room with their light.

The Pact was sealed.

"Well!" Belladonna said, clapping her hands together. "I'm glad we hashed this out, Red! Really, having you on the team will be an absolute joy!"

She sat herself down on the desk in front of him, smirking and licking her lips, crossing her shapely legs. "What say we celebrate the new contract?"

Red stared at her, expression flat, taking a moment to assess himself before smirking. "Not in my job description."

"Shit," said Belladonna. "Oh, well. Worth a shot. You may go now."

With that he got to his feet, setting off towards the door, stopping only when she called out. "Red! One more thing!"

He turned around, her full lips in a disapproving pout as she shook her finger, scolding. "No more killing my employees… unless you have already found a suitable replacement."

"Yes," he said, nodding shallowly. "Of course."

"Red!" She barked, grinning. "That's 'yes, My Lady'. Now, what was that?"

"Yes…" He said, his voice low as green Pact energy sizzled across his mighty frame. "...My Lady."