"Angie!" Cherri exclaimed, her voice filled with relief and excitement as she sprinted towards her best friend, embracing him tightly as she reached him. Her eyes searched his face, desperately seeking answers. "Are they...? Are you...?" she stammered, her voice laced with concern.
Her heart raced with anticipation as she awaited his response. Cherri had been anxiously waiting for him to emerge from the manager's office, hoping for positive news.
"Nothing's decided yet," Angel Dust stated, his voice laced with a mixture of frustration and resignation. He leaned against a nearby wall, his expression weary but determined. "I told dem 'bout what's been goin' on wit' Val, and dat my bein' here will cause problems goin' forward. Da two of dem need to decide among themselves what dey feel needs to be done."
Angel's words hung in the air, the weight of uncertainty and tension palpable. He knew that the situation was far from resolved, and the fate of his continued presence in this place remained uncertain. Despite his flamboyant demeanor, he couldn't hide the concern in his eyes.
Meanwhile, Alastor, ever the observer, sat at the bar, a sly smile curling on his lips as he swirled his snifter of cognac. Angel felt a mix of irritation and discomfort under Alastor's gaze.
"So you're still here for tonight," Cherri clarified, her voice filled with a mix of relief and gratitude. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on Angel's shoulder, gently guiding him towards the staircase that led to his room. Her touch was warm and reassuring, a silent gesture of support.
Cherri understood the gravity of the situation, and her loyalty to Angel ran deep. She knew that if Charlie and Vaggie had blindly thrown him out without considering his side of the story, her anger would have been unleashed in a fiery display. But the fact that they were open to hearing Angel out, to understanding what was truly going on, filled her with a sense of hope.
She admired Charlie and Vaggie for their willingness to seek the truth and gather all the facts before jumping to conclusions. It was a sign that they valued fairness and compassion, even in the face of difficult decisions. Cherri knew that this level of consideration would ultimately lead to a resolution that served the best interests of everyone involved.
With a gentle yet firm grip on Angel's shoulder, Cherri led him up the stairs, her steps steady and supportive. She knew that he needed a safe space to process his thoughts and emotions, away from the prying eyes and judgment of others.
"It's been a pleasure to have crossed paths with the Bonnie to your Clyde, I must say." Alastor stated with a sly grin, his voice dripping with amusement. He looked at Angel, a twinkle in his crimson eyes, clearly pleased with his attempt at a compliment.
Angel couldn't help but let out a small snort of laughter, a mix of amusement and disbelief escaping him. Alastor had a knack for delivering lines that were both witty and unsettling. While it was almost flattering to be compared to the legendary duo of wild criminal lovers that headed the Barrow Gang, Angel was well aware of the repercussions their actions had caused.
"Bonnie and Clyde, huh?" Angel responded, a hint of amusement lingering in his voice. "Dat's a new one. Well, let's just hope our story don't end up quite as... unfortunate as theirs did." He couldn't deny the allure of the comparison, the rebellious spirit that came with it, but he also knew the consequences that followed in the wake of their infamous exploits.
"I'd be careful comparin' Cherri and me to dose two," Angel added, a sly smirk dancing on his lips. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he continued, "If memory serves, da two of dem were shot to death in a police ambush back in 1934."
Husk, who had been observing the conversation with a hint of amusement, couldn't help but burst into laughter at the unexpected turn. He clutched his sides, his chuckles filling the air. Alastor, on the other hand, wore a flustered expression, a blush tinting his usually composed face.
"Ah, well," Alastor stammered, attempting to regain his composure. "I suppose that serves as a poignant reminder that not all tales of mischief and mayhem culminate in victory, doesn't it?"
Charlie was overwhelmed after Angel left the office, her emotions running high. She didn't know where to begin; it felt like an insurmountable task. When she had initially envisioned the hotel as a rehabilitation center for demons, she had thought it would be a straightforward process. She believed that by encouraging demons to abandon their sinful ways and learn to become better individuals, there might be a chance for them to be accepted into Heaven. However, the reality she faced now was far more complex and challenging than she had ever anticipated.
She yearned to embrace the white-furred spider, to express her heartfelt apologies for the pain he had endured. She wished she had found him sooner and established the hotel earlier, sparing him from such hardships. However, she understood that he had already mustered immense courage by sharing his story. His offer to leave, to protect everyone at the hotel from the potential dangers posed by the Three-Vee's, left even Vaggie speechless. Both Charlie and Vaggie realized that his admission wasn't driven by selflessness or trust in them. He felt compelled to share the truth now, to prevent future complications and reveal everything before it became too problematic.
Vaggie tenderly caressed her girlfriend's back, providing a comforting touch. While she didn't display tears like Charlie, her stoic demeanor didn't diminish the impact of Angel's revelations on her. The weight of his words resonated deeply within the gray skinned girl, stirring a whirlwind of emotions that she struggled to keep in check. She understood the gravity of the situation and empathized with the pain that Angel had endured. In that moment, their shared understanding transcended tears, as they both grappled with the profound impact of the newfound knowledge.
"I was wrong," Charlie's voice trembled, emotion thickening her chest. She mustered the strength to voice the admission, her vulnerability laid bare before them. The weight of her mistake hung heavily upon her, as she acknowledged the naivety and oversimplification of her initial plans. Her vision of the hotel as a straightforward rehabilitation center had been shattered by the harsh reality that had unfolded before her eyes.
In that moment, Charlie confronted her own shortcomings, recognizing the magnitude of the task she had set for herself. She realized the complexity and depth of the demons' struggles, and the immense challenges they faced in seeking redemption. It was an overwhelming realization that she had underestimated the extent of their pain and the intricacies of their individual journeys.
"You weren't wrong, hun," Vaggie comforted, her voice filled with reassurance. "Yes, seeking redemption is far more complex than we initially thought. But that's precisely why we needed a test subject for this project. When we explained the concept to Angel, we made it clear that our goal was to demonstrate that it's possible for at least one soul to reach Heaven."
Vaggie's words carried a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty. She reminded Charlie of their original intent and the purpose behind creating the rehabilitation center. While the challenges had proven greater than anticipated, it didn't mean their vision was completely shattered.
"But still…" Charlie's voice quivered with a mix of guilt and realization. "This changes so much. It means that I don't actually understand those I see as my subjects. I've been blind their individual experiences and struggles. I thought I knew my people, but this revelation shows how much I've overlooked."
She paused, her thoughts gathering before she continued. "I've always known that not all demons in Hell are good or desire change. I also understand that Hell exists because sin exists in the world. But that doesn't mean everyone here is irredeemable or inherently evil. There are souls who were not completely good in life, but they weren't monsters. There is something in them that is worth redemption."
Charlie's heart ached as she thought of Angel. "Angel, he can display selfishness, cruelty, and an inflated ego. But deep down, that's not who he truly is. There's more to him than those flaws. And it's because of my mistake in revealing that he was here during the interview, that Valentino knows about him..." Her voice trailed off, regret evident in her tone.
Vaggie interjected, her voice firm yet compassionate. "Even if you had been aware of the complexities of redemption, Charlie. Do you honestly believe that Angel would have willingly disclosed all that was going on? He didn't even confide in Cherri about any of this. The only reason she knows anything about it is because she sensed that something was wrong and demanded the truth from him. Remember, Angel mentioned that Vox is partnered with Valentino. Even if you hadn't revealed Angel's presence here, he would have eventually been discovered. The constant surveillance would have exposed him, and Valentino could have shown up without warning to reclaim him."
The moth demon's words sought to remind the blond girl that some factors were beyond their control. Angel's reluctance to share his troubles was not solely a consequence of their actions. The intricate web of relationships and alliances within Hell was bound to complicate matters, regardless of the hotel's existence.
"Maybe…" Charlie sighed, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Even so, one thing is clear: I can't let Angel leave. I understand that keeping him here might give Valentino a reason to come searching for him. But Angel is not just anyone; he's a patron of this hotel. I made a promise to him, a commitment to help him in any way I can. I still feel an obligation to honor that promise. I owe him that much."
Her words carried a weight of responsibility and loyalty. Charlie wished she had a clear path forward, a definitive answer on what actions to take. But in that moment of vulnerability, she admitted her uncertainty. "I wish I knew exactly what to do."
"We've been through a lot," Vaggie suggested, her voice filled with compassion. "We need time to process everything, to let it sink in. Let's have some dinner and approach these challenges with a fresh perspective in the morning."
The room was eerily silent as the two of them entered. Angel's demeanor instantly shattered, his emotional façade crumbling as he sank heavily onto the bed. His two-colored eyes, a poignant reflection of his inner turmoil, stared blankly into the void before him.
"Will you be alright?" Cherri asked with genuine concern, her voice laced with compassion. She approached Angel slowly, her presence a gentle reminder that he was not alone in his pain. With a tender touch, she reached out, placing a comforting hand on his trembling shoulder.
"This is da first time..." Angel's voice wavered as he spoke, his words tinged with vulnerability. He rubbed at his weary eyes, desperately attempting to contain the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "This is da first time I've actually gone out and told someone what's been goin' on," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. A mixture of relief and trepidation filled his heart, as if he had just unlocked a door he had kept shut for far too long.
"I know it was hard for you to do this," Cherri responded, her warm smile radiating understanding and pride. She recognized the immense courage it took for Angel to open up and share his struggles with them. "But they did need to know the truth," she continued, her voice gentle yet resolute. "It's better that they heard it from you now, before things happen and I have to tell them everything you can't bring yourself to say."
Cherri's words carried a sense of urgency and a deep sense of responsibility. She understood the weight of the unspoken secrets that Angel had been carrying, and she wanted to ensure that the others were prepared and informed. Yet, her tone also conveyed a genuine appreciation for Angel's willingness to take that difficult step.
"Dat don't get me outta da studio, though," Angel Dust sighed with exhaustion, his voice heavy with resignation. "I still need to keep up appearances there... otherwise, Val's gonna come lookin' for me, and he'll be in da mood to skin me alive when he does."
Cherri settled next to him, her touch offering solace and a silent reassurance of her unwavering support. He leaned his head onto her shoulder, finding a small measure of comfort in her presence. Despite his fatigue and emotional turmoil, he held back his tears, refusing to let them fall. It wasn't a matter of fear or shame in front of Cherri. She was the one person he trusted to that degree, the one who saw past his facade and understood his pain. But perhaps it was the remnants of that New York tough-guy persona he liked to maintain, the armor he wore to shield himself from the world.
The hurtful words, the name-calling, the taunts—slut, fag, lanky-filly, whore—they were familiar echoes in his ears. Angel had learned to tune them out, to let them roll off his back like water off a duck. The rebukes and insults didn't faze him anymore. He had grown accustomed to the harsh judgments. Yet, Val's words, the one occasion when he saw tears welling up in his eyes, had left an indelible mark on his soul.
"I like seeing you in tears, Angel Cakes, it makes you look so breakable. Tears also make you look like the little bitch that you are. You don't cry when you are fucked! Clients don't pay for tears! You smile and enjoy it like a good little whore. Got it!"
Angel had adamantly refused to let anyone witness his tears ever since. Even when he found himself alone in the privacy of his room, where he didn't have to worry about Val or anyone else seeing him cry, it still felt like a surrender. It felt as though he would be granting them the satisfaction of knowing they had succeeded in breaking him. It was a bitter pill to swallow, acknowledging their power over his emotions.
That was why he reserved his tears for the confines of the shower, wherever he called home. Within the veil of cascading water, he allowed himself to weep, hidden from prying eyes. There, he could cling to the notion that the warm stream mingling with his tears was the sole cause of the wetness on his face. It became a desperate act of self-deception, a way to dissociate himself from the bitter reality of his vulnerability.
By deluding himself in that moment, Angel attempted to reclaim a semblance of control. It was a small victory, a fleeting refuge where he could momentarily shield his shattered spirit from the outside world. Though deep down, he was aware of the truth, the bitter salted liquid flowing from his eyelids served as a reminder that he was far from invincible, that the wounds inflicted upon him cut deep.
In those solitary moments of anguish, Angel fought against the narrative that his tears represented weakness. He clung to the belief that he could still maintain a façade of strength, even if only within the confines of the shower's comforting embrace.
The memory of the only time Angel had allowed himself to openly cry in front of Cherri resurfaced in his mind. It was a moment of vulnerability that unfolded in the intimate setting of his old apartment, where they had sought solace while sharing a bottle of wine. Cherri had been a trusted confidante, a safe space where he could release the weight of his work-related struggles and the torment inflicted upon him by Val.
However, there was a painful truth that Angel had kept hidden from Cherri during that heart-wrenching conversation. He had chosen not to disclose the full extent of the horrific incident that had taken place in the limousine that fateful day. It hadn't escalated to the point of full-on rape, for which he was grateful. Instead, Val had subjected him to a brutal violation, forcibly kissing him and subjecting him to relentless groping. Beneath the surface, there were veiled threats and insidious promises of what awaited him later.
During their heartfelt conversation, a solitary tear had betrayed Angel's efforts to conceal his emotions. It slid down his cheek, an uninvited display of his pain. He hurriedly brushed it away, but it was too late to shield Cherri from noticing. Like a floodgate that had been opened, more tears cascaded down his face, unstoppable and relentless. Cherri chose to remain silent, understanding the weight of the pent-up anguish and frustration that crashed upon him.
She refrained from pulling him into a hug, wary of invading his personal space in a way he might find intrusive. Instead, she lightly took hold of his arm as he turned away, his vulnerable state of helplessness evident. Her touch served as a subtle gesture of comfort, an assurance that she was there for him, even without words. In the face of his overwhelming emotions, Angel curled up into a ball for the remainder of the evening, pressing the heels of his hands painfully against his eyes, as if trying to staunch the ceaseless flow of tears.
Internally, he berated himself for this display of perceived weakness, mentally cursing each relentless tear. Italian cusses slipped from his lips, a mix of frustration and self-reproach. Cherri, however, remained a steadfast companion in his suffering, silently lying down on her back beside him. Her hand rested gently on his spine, a gesture to remind him that he was not alone. The yellow x-shaped pupil of her single red eye observed him with genuine concern and empathy, mirroring the pain she felt for him.
That had been the only time Angel had allowed himself to cry in front of another person. Deep down, he felt a profound gratitude that it had been Cherri by his side during that vulnerable moment. The thought of shedding tears in front of a random John or one of his exclusive clients sent a shiver down his spine.
Cherri's presence, her understanding, and their shared trust were invaluable to him. In a world where deceit and exploitation were commonplace, she was a rare beacon of authenticity and genuine care. Cherri's compassion and unwavering support made him feel seen and validated, without any ulterior motives or hidden agendas.
The idea of revealing his tears to anyone else, particularly those who engaged with him in the transactional world of his work, was unimaginable. The vulnerability he had shared with the one-eyed girl was a sacred bond, a moment of genuine connection that he treasured. Opening himself up to anyone else, especially someone who saw him as a means to an end, would be a violation of the fragile trust he had placed in Cherri.
With a sense of gratitude and relief, Angel recognized the significance of having Cherri as his confidante during his darkest moments. She provided him with a safe space, free from judgment or exploitation. In her presence, he could be his authentic self, unguarded and vulnerable. the bomber-girls role in his life was a precious gift, one he would forever cherish amidst the stormy chaos that often consumed him.
"Will you be okay here by yourself for a bit?" Cherri asked, her concern evident in her voice. Angel shifted his head away from her shoulder, giving her room to move.
"I'll go let your other housemates know that I'm here," Cherri continued, understanding the importance of maintaining a sense of normalcy and avoiding any unexpected surprises. "They don't need any more surprises today."
"Yeah," Angel agreed wearily, feeling the fatigue wash over him. He let himself slump over, allowing his body to sprawl across the bed. His head found its place against the softness of the pillow, providing a slight reprieve for his weary mind.
"It's not like I'm gonna go very far for the rest of the night," he added, his voice tinged with exhaustion. The weight of the day's emotional turmoil had taken its toll, leaving him drained and longing for a moment of respite.
With a deep breath, he closed his eyes, finding solace in the stillness of the room. This brief interlude allowed him to gather his strength, to let the emotions ebb and flow without interference. He knew that Cherri's presence had brought him comfort, and her temporary absence was a necessary step in the healing process.
In the quiet solitude of the room, Angel embraced the stillness, preparing himself for the night. The events of the day lingered in his thoughts, but he was determined to find some measure of peace within the confines of his own space.
"So, is it true?" Summer asked, her voice echoing in the dressing room as the three of them prepared for their upcoming performances.
"Is 'what' true?" Angel inquired of the female cat demon. He was getting into costume for his next porn shoot. He was slipping into a frilly pink peasant blouse and short pleated skirt. In this film, Angel was playing the role of a naughty "schoolgirl" who had been caught entertaining sexual congress with one of her schoolmates. So the principal had called her to his office to receive some "discipline" only to find the person he thought he was punishing wasn't actually a girl.
"Is it true that you're leaving?" Dia clarified, her sultry eyes watching him intently. The red-skinned succubus's gaze bore into Angel Dust, seeking confirmation. "Val was talking to Vox about overhearing you say you've been wanting to leave for a while." A chill abruptly ran down Angel's spine. Those were the very words he had confided to Charlie and Vaggie just a couple of nights ago, revealing what he was going through.
But da truth is, I had been wantin' to leave Val for a while.
But how could he have heard that? Angel pondered, a mix of suspicion and concern clouding his thoughts. Could it be Val spying on them, or was it Velvette... or both? After all, Vox controlled a multitude of companies, including those connected to their Hellphones, computer systems, and security. It wouldn't be far-fetched to imagine that he had bugged Angel's phone or hacked into the security cameras to keep tabs on them. Perhaps his recent visit was merely a smokescreen to facilitate the installation of a wiretap. It was no secret that Vox himself was aware of the abuse Valentino inflicted on his Star Performers, and unfortunately, he was complicit in those acts as well. The irony was not lost on Angel that the TV Demon, too, was a victim of Val's abuse, causing constant conflicts in their tumultuous relationship. And then there was Velvette. While he didn't want to jump to conclusions, he couldn't deny the possibility that she wouldn't require much motivation to manipulate a recording or doctor a photo, all to please her "Dads" and stir up a scandal.
"No, I'm not leavin'," Angel firmly said, his voice laced with determination. He wasn't about to let the rumors or the potential schemes of Val or Velvet unsettle him. As he spoke, the door to the dressing room creaked open slightly, catching his attention.
"Places in 'ten', Angel," a stagehand called through the door, interrupting their conversation. Angel took a deep breath, momentarily setting aside the swirling thoughts in his mind. It was showtime, and he needed to focus. With a nod, he acknowledged the stagehand and prepared himself to step out into the sound stage
"Be right there," Angel called back, letting the stagehand know that he understood he was needed on set. Turning his attention to the tan-furred cat demon and red-skinned succubus, he addressed them earnestly. "Look, I'll clear it up with Val later today." He offered them a neutral smile before swiftly making his way towards the door, ready to face the challenges that awaited him on set.
Cherri had just finished unpacking her belongings in the hotel room and nestled onto her fresh, inviting bed. Angel's advice turned out to be spot-on—the accommodations weren't extravagant, but the room had a decent amount of space. One advantage was that Cherri didn't have to worry about paying rent, which certainly brightened her outlook. On top of that, her best friend happened to reside just a few doors away, essentially making them next-door neighbors. The thought of their close proximity brought a genuine sense of comfort and excitement.
Despite Cherri's pride in Angel for finally opening up to Charlie and Vaggie about his ongoing situation, she couldn't shake the feeling that not much had changed. The day after Angel's conversation with them, Charlie extended an invitation for him to remain at the hotel, emphasizing that it was the safest option available. Recognizing the truth in Charlie's words, Angel agreed to take refuge there.
In the following days, the four of them—Cherri, Angel, Charlie, and Vaggie—held intense discussions, brainstorming ideas and potential solutions for their predicament. Unfortunately, despite their best efforts, they found themselves hitting dead ends more often than not. The gravity of their circumstances weighed heavily on them all, and the lack of progress left them feeling disheartened.
Despite the desperate need for Angel to distance himself from the studio, any suggestions of requesting an extended vacation or taking a break were swiftly dismissed. Val, the studio's owner, held all the power and saw Angel solely as a source of revenue. To him, it was all about the money. Even granting the spider a mere two days off was a considerable concession. If Angel dared to take more time away, Val would tear him apart or likely show up at their doorstep, demanding the Porn Star's immediate return to work. The looming threat of Val's dominance over Angel's professional life added to the pressure they all faced in finding a solution to their predicament.
The idea of taking sick leave was completely off the table as well. Val had no belief in granting performers sick days. Even when Hell's variation of the Norovirus was spreading around, he insisted on continuing with filming shoots. It would seem too suspicious and convenient if Angel were to call in sick shortly after having a day off. Val only permitted performers to go home when the situation became undeniably dire, such as when even he couldn't excuse or cover up the severity of how a sick performer would throw off a scene. However, that didn't mean Val wouldn't make them suffer for it later. He would undoubtedly exact his revenge in some way, ensuring that Angel and the other performers paid a price for their absence. The oppressive atmosphere created by Val's callousness only added to the sense of helplessness and desperation in finding a way out of their situation.
Charlie displayed her wisdom by refraining from suggesting contacting Valentino to explain why she needed Angel. It was evident to everyone that Valentino was not the kind of person who could be reasoned with. He operated solely in the languages of money and violence. If he couldn't obtain money, he would respond with violence. This understanding made it clear that approaching Valentino would only lead to trouble and potential danger.
Additionally, Angel couldn't afford to stop showing up at the studio. He had to maintain the appearance of business as usual, preventing Valentino from growing suspicious. However, there was an unsettling feeling among them all that Val was aware of Angel's attempts to escape. Val wasn't punishing Angel simply because he was toying with him, enjoying the power play. He wanted to witness the moment when Angel would finally try to run, so he could be there to exert control and dominance over him once again. This realization added an extra layer of urgency and caution to Angel's desperate bid for freedom.
"Knock knock," Charlie said lightly, rapping her fist against the door frame. Her usual chipper demeanor remained intact, though there was a subtle hint of restraint beneath it. "How are you finding your room?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.
~She's worried about him, too~ Cherri mentally smiled, appreciating Charlie's genuine concern. It was comforting to know that she wasn't the only one worried about Angel's well-being. In that moment, she felt a deep sense of gratitude for having such a caring friend like Charlie by their side.
"It's comfortable," Cherri stated, her voice reflecting a hint of relief. "It's actually cozier than my old apartment, but the best part is being closer to Angie." She paused for a moment, a soft smile gracing her lips.
"You love him…don't you," Charlie said gently, settling down next to Cherri. The empathetic question hung in the air, and Cherri nodded, closing her single eye as a wave of bittersweet emotions washed over her. She wore a sad smile, knowing that her feelings for Angel ran deep and complicated, intertwining with their shared history and experiences.
"I care about him, yes," Cherri admitted, her voice carrying a mix of affection and concern. "He's like an older brother to me...and I do love him, but more as a brother than anything else. My priority is his happiness, and I genuinely believe there's someone out there who could love him wholeheartedly. You've probably noticed that he's been through a lot when it comes to relationships. It's like a vicious cycle—either someone just wants to sleep with him or ends up hurting him. He's become wary and distant with anyone who tries to be his friend, and I don't think he even remembers what a truly loving relationship feels like anymore."
Cherri's voice trembled as she continued, her emotions overwhelming her. "But just thinking about what that monster does to him, what he forces him to do...it tears me apart," she confessed, her hand moving to her face to catch a sob as her shoulders shook with the weight of her sorrow. In that vulnerable moment, Charlie wrapped a caring arm around Cherri's shoulders, providing a comforting embrace.
"If Angie would allow me to," Cherri continued, her voice tinged with a mix of determination and frustration, "I'd shove a grenade so far up Valentino's ass that I could reach down his throat and rip out the pin. I know he's dangerous, and I understand why Angie wants to protect me from him...but I...I don't care. What matters most to me is what Angel is going through. If I can spare him even a fraction of that pain, I would do whatever it takes."
She paused for a moment, her tone softening. "I'm sorry if I sound like something out of a sappy YA novel, but it's the truth. I would risk being erased for him if it meant keeping him safe. When we engage in fights, when we have each other's backs, it's because we mean everything to one another. It may sound silly for demons to protect one another, but that's how we are. I want to protect and defend him from what Valentino is doing because I know, deep down, that if our roles were reversed, he'd do the same for me. But he's just too proud to admit he needs help, and that's what worries me the most...that it might already be too late."
"It's never too late," Charlie said reassuringly, his voice filled with determination. "Angel knows Valentino better than you or I do, so he understands just how dangerous that Overlord can be. But I believe in Angel is worth redeeming and I know there has to be a solution to get him out of Valentino's clutches. Even if it's only temporary, our main goal is to get him away from that wretched studio and far away from Valentino's influence. The rest is yet to be determined."
"Thank you," Cherri said, her voice filled with gratitude and a hint of relief. She leaned against Charlie, a warm smile adorned her face, reflecting the appreciation she felt for the princesses' support and understanding.
"Val," Angel Dust called out, his voice laced with a hint of irritation. "Why in da hell are ya spreadin' rumors 'bout me leavin'?"
"Angel Cakes," Valentino purred, his voice dripping with a dangerous blend of amusement and menace. His pupilless red eyes bore into Angel Dust, his enigmatic smile revealing a hint of underlying displeasure. "You should know by now that ain't nothin' gettin' past my radar, especially when it's all about... you. Did you really think I wouldn't catch on that your precious girly-friend has conveniently joined that oh-so-happy little family of housemates you seem to be surrounding yourself with?"
"I ain't her fuckin' keeper," Angel Dust asserted, his voice laced with frustration and defiance. He crossed his arms and stared directly into Valentino's eyes, refusing to back down. "What she does is up to her, not me."
"Maybe so, Angel baby," Valentino said, his voice dripping with a mixture of cynicism and authority, as he slowly rose from his desk. The room seemed to darken as his imposing figure loomed over Angel. "But keep this in your pretty little head. The more folks you let into your world, the more you're puttin' yourself on the line. They'll be snatched away, they'll turn on you, and when you ain't no longer the flavor of the month, they'll ditch you, just like that."
Valentino's words were laced with bitterness. "Think back long and hard about them good ol' days, baby. Back when it was just you, riding solo through those endless years, fightin' tooth and nail. Crawlin' through the concrete jungle, beggin' for a crumb, starvin' and doin' whatever it took, to keep existing. That was your world before that Bombshell came struttin' into your scene."
The memories resurfaced, raw and painful. Valentino's eyes bore into Angel, daring him to challenge the truth. "Ain't no denyin' it, each day was a damn war, and you felt it deep down. You gotta ask yourself, sugar, you really wanna head back to that pitiful struggle? You ready to toss away all the gains you've worked so hard for?" His voice grew colder, devoid of any sympathy. "Look, baby, ain't no aces up your sleeve in this little showdown between us. The way I see it, you got just two options in this high-stakes game we're dancin' in. You either keep playin' 'til there's nothin' left to bet, risk losin' it all, or you fold, walk away, and call it quits. The ball's in your court, but remember, the house doesn't always deal a friendly hand."
Before Angel could react, a swift movement caught him off guard. The Moth, driven by Valentino's anger, lunged forward and firmly grabbed hold of Angel's jacket. A sharp gasp escaped Angel's lips as he felt himself being lifted off the ground, the pain pulsating through his body.
"NOW!" Valentino's voice erupted with a ferocious snarl, dripping with venomous contempt. His rage reverberated through the room, overwhelming everything else. His eyes burned with an intensity that sent chills down Angel's spine.
Valentino's words lashed out like a whip, each syllable stinging with cruelty. "Hey now, you listen good, you bony, foul-mouthed, whining rat! Don't you dare play amnesia about who pulled your sorry ass outta the muck! I shaped you, molded you into what you strut as today! You're mine, got it? Without me, you'd still be pleasuring pockets for pennies and scratching for crumbs in mud!"
The weight of Valentino's dominance bore down upon Angel, suffocating him. The Moth's grip tightened, hurling Angel Dust to the unforgiving floor with a forceful thud. Pain shot through Angel's body as he crashed against the ground, but Valentino's wrath showed no mercy.
Valentino's boot descended upon the center of Angel's spine, a brutal display of power and control. The threat of the heel piercing through Angel's flesh and severing his spinal cord hung in the air, a terrifying reminder of the depths of Valentino's cruelty.
The room quivered with fear, the atmosphere thick with the tension between predator and prey. Angel lay vulnerable beneath Valentino's boot, a stark symbol of his submission and vulnerability.
Valentino's anger continued to surge, his growl cutting through the air like a feral beast. "And what's my reward? Lip flappin', sass slingin', pushback, defiance – that's what I see in return. You forget who put you on the map, and this is the gratitude I get?" He snarled, his voice filled with disdain. The weight of his disappointment hung heavy in his words. "You've lost sight of who's got you on a leash? You best start prayin' that you snap to attention and follow my lead to the letter. Put a cork in that mouthy attitude and ditch the whining. It's time you remember your place and start toeing the line."
Angel's cry of pain echoed in the room as Valentino intensified the pressure of his boot against Angel's spine. The pain radiated through his entire being, a sharp reminder of his vulnerability. "Unless you're itchin' for a one-way ticket to that 'Special Room' – the one I keep stashed away just for you – you better start thinkin' twice about your actions. I'm talkin' about a month-long stay in a place you won't soon forget." Valentino hissed, his voice filled with a sinister promise.
The mention of the special room sent shivers down Angel's spine. It was a place of darkness and torment, a place where Valentino's sadistic desires were given free rein. It was a threat that lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the consequences of defiance.
Valentino's dominance was unrelenting, and Angel's fate teetered on a precipice. The room seemed to shrink around them as the power dynamic tilted further in Valentino's favor. Angel's only option was to submit or face the horrors that awaited him in the depths of Valentino's domain.