In recent days, a growing concern arose as Angel's stress levels escalated with each visit to the studio. The situation was spiraling out of control, as Val's relentless demands and the malicious influence of the evil Moth were taking a toll on him.
The mounting pressure was unmistakable, evident in Angel's demeanor and behavior. Fatigue etched across his face, and the weight of his burdens seemed to weigh him down. Each passing day only served to further wear him out, amplifying the distress he experienced.
They all understood the gravity of the situation and the imminent danger that Angel was putting himself in to protect them from Valentino. The stakes were high, and they were acutely aware that Angel's sacrifice had its limits. They were united in their concern for his safety and well-being, but the question lingered: what options did they have?
They pondered over the possibilities, desperately searching for a way to safeguard Angel and themselves. They knew that if Angel stayed at the hotel, Valentino's forces would likely converge upon them, endangering everyone within its walls. The thought of losing Angel or anyone else in the process was unbearable.
However, they also recognized that Angel couldn't maintain his charade indefinitely. The tremendous strain he was under would eventually take its toll, pushing him to his breaking point. They couldn't bear the thought of him suffering or being forced into a situation where he had to leave the hotel or was prevented from returning.
Alastor would occasionally inquire about Angel's connection to the Moth, seeking answers to questions such as: Did Angel make a deal with Valentino? What kind of weaknesses does Valentino possess? How long ago did Angel fall into Valentino's possession?
Alastor's persistent questioning only served to further irritate the tall Spider Demon, causing him to leave in frustration. Upon his return, Angel was in no mood to engage with anyone, not even Cherri, who reluctantly kept her distance. Aware of Angel's volatile state, she had taken Fat Nuggets to her room to look after him during Angel's late absence. The entire hotel could occasionally discern Angel's return by the resounding slam of his room door, echoing loudly through the halls, reflecting the intensity of his emotions.
The Spider Demon had been experiencing sleep disturbances for quite some time, resulting in nights filled with haunting nightmares that would cause him to cry out in distress. As a consequence, his overall sleep was disrupted. Compounding his troubles, he found himself losing his appetite, often resorting to a mere cup of black coffee or espresso to fuel himself before rushing out the door. His empty stomach would occasionally protest loudly, yearning for sustenance. Recognizing Angel's struggles, Charlie made an effort to ensure there was something left in the fridge for him, leaving a sticky note on the door as a reminder. Unfortunately, these meals remained largely untouched, if not entirely ignored. The previous night, Charlie had prepared a half of a roast beef sandwich and a small cluster of grapes, only to discover that Angel had consumed just a few grapes and little else when she checked in the morning.
Cherri despised every instance of Angel's suffering, resenting the fact that he had to endure the consequences of that despicable man's depravity. Charlie, too, was deeply pained, aware that Angel's suffering was an unfortunate part of his job. Even Vaggie, usually reserved, couldn't help but mutter furious expletives in Spanish under her breath, expressing her anger at the situation. The three girls found solace in each other's company, currently gathered around one of the tables in the foyer, engaged in conversation over cups of coffee. They sought comfort and support, leaning on each other during these trying times.
"Al," Charlie inquired with a hint of frustration as the Radio Demon sauntered downstairs, his trademark wide grin adorning his face. "Couldn't you... I don't know... have one of your shadow minion... friend... things watch over Angel? Or perhaps find a way to teleport him to and from the studio?"
Charlie's voice carried a mix of concern and hope, her gaze pleading with Alastor to explore alternative solutions to ease Angel's burden. She had a glimmer of optimism that Alastor's supernatural abilities could offer some respite for their troubled friend.
"Rest assured, my charming demon belle, I've been maintaining a vigilant watch over our effeminent friend." Alastor responded with a sly smile. "It appears that he possesses some rather dubious habits, ones that he conveniently neglected to mention."
Alastor's tone held a touch of amusement, relishing in the mysterious and intriguing aspects of Angel's behavior that he had discovered. His words hinted at a deeper understanding of the Spiders situation, suggesting that there were more layers to his story than initially revealed.
"What kind of habits?" Charlie inquired, her eyes narrowing with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"He does..." Cherri interjected, her voice tinged with a mix of guilt and frustration, acknowledging her complicity in concealing this information from her companions. "He does drugs, the one he has taken as his name mostly."
"Why am I not surprised..." Vaggie sighed, her voice filled with a mix of resignation and disappointment. "How many times is he going to willingly violate the terms of his contract?"
Vaggie's words conveyed her frustration and concern, reflecting the repeated instances where Angel had knowingly engaged in behavior that went against their agreements. She couldn't help but question how many more times they would face these situations, grappling with the ongoing struggle of keeping Angel on the right path.
"Maybe..." Charlie suggested, her voice filled with a glimmer of hope amid the frustration. "Maybe it's not exactly what we think."
Charlie's words carried a touch of optimism, as she contemplated the possibility of there being more to Angel's situation than meets the eye. She believed in the capacity for growth and change, hoping that there might be underlying reasons behind Angel's actions that they were yet to uncover.
"Not what we think!" Vaggie exclaimed, her frustration bubbling to the surface as she nearly grabbed Charlie's shoulders, her anger palpable. "People use drugs to get high... I don't think there is much to consider."
Vaggie's words carried a sharp tone, expressing her belief that the situation was more straightforward than Charlie's hopeful perspective suggested. She couldn't fathom alternative explanations that would justify Angel's drug use, viewing it as a clear violation of their trust and the boundaries of his contract.
Turning her angry attention towards Cherri, Vaggie's gaze pierced through her, filled with disappointment and anger. "We let you live here, and you didn't bother letting us know about any of this bullshit?!" she reprimanded, the frustration evident in her voice. Vaggie felt a deep sense of betrayal, the weight of Cherri's silence amplifying the gravity of the situation.
"Who are you to judge?" Cherri demanded, her voice carrying a mix of defiance and frustration. "Angel uses dust as a means to cope with the shit that's constantly thrown his way, especially the torment inflicted by that scumbag Valentino. It's been his way of surviving here in Hell. He's been on his own, fighting to stay in existence for over forty years before I even met him. And let me remind you, the period he comes from... things were drastically different from the time I first arrived."
"Might any of you kindly jog my memory regarding the precise moment when Angel met his demise?" Alastor inquired, his head cocked to the side as he pondered. "If my memory serves me right, it was no less than a decade following my own passing."
Alastor's question held a genuine curiosity, as he sought to recall the specific timeline of events surrounding Angel's death. His keen memory allowed him to navigate the history of Hell with relative precision, but he wished to confirm the time gap between their respective deaths.
"Angie is from 1947," Cherri provided the information. "He was 33 years old when he passed away."
"That might shed light on some of Angel's..." Alastor commented, briefly closing his eyes as he searched for a delicate way to phrase his thoughts. "Shall we say, predicaments? It's conceivable that these coping mechanisms were practices he resorted to even before his arrival in these infernal realms. Given the hardships faced by individuals like him due to their sexual orientation, one can only speculate on the burdens he carried."
Charlie gazed at the Blond Cyclops, her eyes filled with curiosity. With a subtle hint of hope, she posed his question, "Is there anything he's told you about when he was alive? Maybe there is something that can help us understand what things were like for him. Such as the Mafia; he was connected to that, right?"
Cherri let out a tired sigh, her expressive face reflecting a hint of disappointment. "Sorry, no," she responded, her voice tinged with a touch of melancholy. "He doesn't really talk about his life. Some of it, he doesn't like to think about, let alone discuss. But there are other things, he says he can't talk about because of something."
As Cherri's words trailed off, Husk, who had been quietly nursing his cheap booze in the corner, suddenly perked up. His disinterested expression transformed into a curious one, his eyes narrowing with intrigue. He leaned forward, joining the conversation that had previously been beneath his notice.
He leaned forward, his voice tinged with a mix of intrigue and suspicion. "This something... it didn't start with an 'O,' did it?"
Cherri's eyebrows shot up in surprise, her expression mirroring Husk's sudden intensity. "Yes," The Bomber Girl admitted. "It's like Omata or..."
"Omerta," Husk grumbled, his voice thick with a mix of weariness and authority. "I've had my fair share of encounters with those mafia types, been in the trenches with a couple of 'em. And let me tell ya, Omerta is a code they live by—a code of silence that runs deep in their blood."
Husk's eyes glistened with memories of a darker past. He had walked the thin line between loyalty and self-preservation, understanding the consequences that came with crossing it.
"It's a pact they make," he continued, his voice low and measured. "A solemn vow to keep their mouths shut, no matter what. If a mob guy even whispered a word about their family or their business to the cops or some outsider, well, let's just say there was a contract put out on 'em."
"You see," he explained, his voice carrying a hint of caution. "Omerta isn't just some fancy Italian word. It's a rule etched in their souls, a commitment to honor the family above all else. Loyalty is everything in that world, and breaking it... well, it's a death sentence."
"But Angel had said he wasn't interested in being a part of the Mafia," Vaggie protested, her voice tinged with concern and frustration.
"Just 'cause he wasn't interested don't mean he wasn't involved," Husk grumbled, his voice laced with a tinge of bitterness. "Ya see, some guys, they talk a big game 'bout goin' legit, turnin' their back on that sorta life. But life ain't always kind, and circumstances, they can change ya, twist ya up real good. Sometimes, ya find yerself pledgin' loyalty to somethin' ya never asked for." Husk's care-worn face reflected a mix of resignation and suspicion. "Legs, now, if he's related to who I believe he is, he wouldn't have had much choice. They'd have pressed 'im into joinin' their ranks, maybe as a recruit, maybe more. It's all part of the game, see? And if he took that sacred oath of omertà, well, then he might've been in deeper than he cared to admit."
Husk paused, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. "Don't underestimate the power of loyalties and the consequences they bring. Sometimes, a man's gotta make choices he ain't proud of, just to survive. So, before ya go judgin' Legs too harshly, remember that life ain't always black and white. It's a murky gray mess, where even the most reluctant souls can get dragged in deeper than they ever intended."
"I see…" Charlie murmured, her voice tinged with a mix of concern and introspection. Her mind raced, replaying the words Angel had shared, the vulnerabilities they had exposed.
"Ya see... not many people know dis 'bout me, but I'm kind of connected to crime. Not just to Val and shitbags like him... I actually have family ties to a crime family. It's not somethin' I'm proud of, and it's not a life I ever wanted to be a part of, but it's da world I was raised and exposed to when I was alive."
Husk's voice took on a grave tone as he revealed his suspicions. "The Spider, he dropped a hint 'bout havin' a father and older brother here in Hell not too long ago," He paused briefly, gathering his thoughts before continuing.
"I hope to the nine-circles that I'm wrong, but somethin' tells me I know who they are. See, back in the day, when I was still frequentin' that casino scene, I caught glimpses of a couple of unsavory characters. And let me tell ya, neither of 'em are the kinda folks you'd wanna cross paths with."
Husk's voice grew more solemn as he described the individual he suspected to be the brother. "Now, this guy I feel could be the brother, he's got a reputation. Shoot first, ask questions if you're still breathin', ya know? He's the kind who don't take kindly to strangers meddlin' in his business. Crossin' his path... well, it's a dangerous game, one you might not come out of unscathed."
"Um, hey guys," Vaggie spoke up, her voice laced with unease. "Maybe it might be better to change the subject." The topic of Angel Dust's unfortunate connection to Valentino was already putting her on edge, and she certainly didn't need to dwell on the potential threats that could be associated with him.
"Alright, how did you girls meet Angie, anyway?" Cherri asked casually, her voice tinged with genuine curiosity. She hoped that shifting the focus to a lighter topic would provide some relief from the worry she was feeling for her friend, Angel Dust.
"We met him on the street," Charlie began, her usually bright and friendly eyes dimming with sadness as she stared into her coffee cup. The weight of her words hung heavily in the air, a reflection of the remorse she carried within. "But given the circumstances, I wish I had thought up this hotel before he was found by Valentino. Perhaps, he would have been spared the pain he's been going through now."
"Don't blame yourself, Hun," Vaggie responded gently, her voice filled with reassurance. She placed a comforting hand on her girlfriend's shoulder, trying to convey her support and understanding. "You can't say things would have been better for him back then, or that he would have been open to listening to either of us. But yes, we did encounter him during one of the times he was out offering himself."
*Weeks Ago*
The two girls had spent the entire day traversing the bustling city, determined to find someone they could persuade to be their first test subject. It was a mission that carried the weight of immense significance. If they could demonstrate that a single demon soul could be redeemed, it would be an absolute game-changer.
With the looming Cleanse just a little over two weeks away, time was of the essence. They had to find someone, anyone, who would be willing to participate in this groundbreaking study. The hope was that by showcasing the possibility of redemption, they could potentially bring an end to the Exterminations. No longer would demons have to live in constant fear, and good souls might find respite from eternal punishment for the mistakes they had made in life.
Charlie's eyes were filled with both determination and empathy as she and Vaggie continued their search. Their goal was not just to save a single soul, but to inspire a shift in perception, to challenge the ingrained beliefs that had plagued Hell for so long. They wanted to foster understanding, compassion, and the opportunity for genuine change.
"We've been trying all day, Charlie," Vaggie sighed, her voice filled with frustration. "It's getting late... maybe we should just call it an evening and return to the hotel."
Her tired eyes scanned the city streets, the weariness evident in her posture. They had been tirelessly searching for someone who would be willing to participate in their study, but their efforts had yielded no results thus far. Vaggie's spirit was dampened by the repeated rejections and the feeling of time slipping away.
"We can't force someone to be our test subject," Vaggie continued, her voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and disappointment. "As much as I want to make a difference, we have to accept that it may not happen today."
"No," Charlie insisted, her voice filled with unwavering determination. "There has to be a soul out there who would listen to us... one that believes in our cause. I know there has to be."
Her eyes sparkled with a glimmer of hope, refusing to let the weariness of the day dampen her spirits. Charlie firmly believed in the power of redemption, in the capacity for change that resided within every being, no matter how lost they seemed.
"This city has thousands of demons," Vaggie stated, her voice tinged with a hint of frustration. "I want to find someone who believes in our cause as well... but so far, no one has shown any interest."
Charlie let out a disappointed sigh and gazed out of the window, her eyes scanning the passing cityscape in frustration. The weight of their mission hung heavy in the air, and the lack of progress had started to wear on both of them.
But then, as if fate had intervened, something caught Charlie's attention. A rather tall spider demon stood on the street corner, capturing Charlie's attention. The fur covering his body was pale, almost whitish, with sporadic rosy pink spots that adorned his shock of fur in front of his face and other areas. Despite his gaunt and effeminate figure, there was a certain elegance to his appearance. He donned a white and pink Valentino jacket, bright pink gloves, a short black skirt, and a pair of thigh-high boots. The fur on his chest was fluffed up in a way that resembled a pair of breasts, though it was evident that he was male. Leaning against a lamppost, he exuded an air of melancholy.
Three of his four arms were folded across his body, while the remaining arm held a cigarette to his mouth. As he took a drag, a puff of smoke billowed out, creating a hauntingly beautiful scene. Charlie couldn't help but be drawn to his striking feature—his bright pink eyes. His right eye was white with a delicate dark pink iris, while his left eye was entirely black, save for a single, vibrant pink dot. Three dark pink spots, resembling freckles, adorned each cheek, adding a touch of charm to his countenance.
It was as if an unspoken connection formed between Charlie and the spider demon. Deep within her, she felt a strong sense of empathy, an understanding that he was a good-hearted soul who felt trapped in his circumstances. The weight of his longing was palpable, reaching out to her in a way that stirred her very being.
"Could you please swing back to that last block?" Charlie pressed the intercom button, her voice filled with urgency and anticipation, addressing the town car's driver.
"What... why?" Vaggie asked, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"I believe we just found who we're looking for," Charlie said, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and hope. Her eyes sparkled with an enthusiastic smile, conveying her belief in the potential of their encounter with the spider demon.
"Who... that prostitute we just passed?" Vaggie asked, her confusion evident in her voice as she furrowed her brow.
"Exactly," Charlie said, her voice filled with determination and conviction. She looked at Vaggie, her eyes shining with unwavering resolve.
"Charlie…" Vaggie rubbed her forehead, as though trying to ward off a budding headache. "You do know he offers himself to...people in exchange for one thing. What makes you think that he's what we're looking for?"
"Trust me, Vaggie…" Charlie insisted, her voice filled with earnestness. "I just know he's someone we should talk to about our hotel. Besides, what would it hurt to try?"
"Uhhh..." Vaggie gave a noise of disgust, still not entirely convinced but willing to proceed for the sake of their mission. "Okay... fine..."
"Well hey there," the spider drawled, his voice oozing with a seductive tone. A thick New York accent tinged his words, reminiscent of the 1940s. Souls in Hell, it seemed, clung tightly to the mannerisms of the time they died, even as their memories faded into obscurity.
"See some... Oh!" He suddenly halted mid-sentence, startled, and leaped back a couple of feet as his eyes fell upon the people attempting to pick him up. Vaggie couldn't help but release an exasperated groan, realizing that things were already veering towards a disastrous beginning. She brought her hand to her face, preparing for the challenges ahead.
"Whoa now..." the Spider said, hastily raising his hands in a warding-off gesture, his eyes quickly averting from the two girls. "For ladies, I charge extra."
"No, No, No," Charlie protested, her voice filled with urgency. She practically climbed out of the open car window, desperately trying to convey their intentions. "No. We don't want any of that. I was wondering if we could talk to you real quick?" The spider let go of his warding gesture, crossing his main arms over his chest and scrutinizing the blond girl with suspicion.
"I'm on the clock, sista..." the spider stated firmly."Ya gotta pay if ya wanna waste my time."
"Oh, yes" Charlie said reassuringly, holding the car door open for him. "Sure, we can do that!" The spider's white eye arched in confusion, while his darker eye squinted, as if he was uncertain about the situation. After a moment of contemplation, he shrugged noncommittally. Given his tall and lanky stature, he had to awkwardly crawl over the laps of the two girls to get into the car, causing Vaggie to cringe in response.
"Ya got any booze in this fancy-assed car?" The Spider inquired, his voice laced with a crude charm as he sprawled himself along the bench seat opposite them. His long legs were positioned in a way that one propped against the knee of the other, creating a bold display that didn't quite offer the two girls a full view up his skirt, but certainly left little to the imagination.
"Are you sure, THIS is the one you want to talk to?" Vaggie demanded, her voice tinged with skepticism as she directed her piercing gaze at her companion. The Spider, never one to miss an opportunity for mischief, teasingly stuck his tongue out at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Yes," Charlie said, her voice gentle yet filled with conviction, as she looked at Vaggie with unwavering trust in her eyes. Deep down in her heart, she believed that she had sensed something in the Spider, something that indicated he would be willing to hear them out, if nothing else. Charlie had always possessed a unique ability to see the goodness in people, even when it wasn't immediately apparent.
Vaggie regarded her girlfriend with a mix of irritation and confusion, failing to see or understand how anything about the Spider could be perceived as good.
"He's good, I can tell," Charlie affirmed, her voice filled with a gentle determination.
"So, what's what?" The Spider asked, his tone laced with a touch of impatience. He wanted to hear what Charlie and Vaggie had to offer, but his mind was preoccupied with the tasks at hand. "Like I said... I'm on the clock."
"Weeeeeellll," Charlie cheerfully said, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she tilted her head towards Vaggie, as if daring her to challenge her belief in the Spider's potential trustworthiness.
Vaggie let out an exasperated sigh, knowing she couldn't resist Charlie's infectious optimism. She shot a skeptical glance at the Spider before turning back to Charlie.
"What's your name? Mister?" Vaggie asked, her voice cutting through the air with a hint of irritation. She was determined to gather as much information as possible about the Spider, wanting to understand the person beneath the flamboyant facade.
The Spider regarded Vaggie with a hint of disdain, his eyes narrowing slightly. Slowly, he shifted his position, laying flat on his back on the seat with his arms lazily stretched out behind his head. His demeanor exuded a nonchalant confidence as he answered her question.
"Angel," the Spider flippantly responded, as if insulted that Vaggie didn't recognize him immediately. "Angel Dust - the Porn Star. I'm kinda famous here, bitch."
"Was that necessary?" Vaggie demanded, her voice tinged with frustration. Angel Dust sat up again, his posture changing as both of his main hands were placed down on the seat between his long legs. He regarded Vaggie with a mixture of curiosity and defiance.
"Nah," Angel smirked in delight, seemingly finding amusement in being inappropriate, as if it were all just one private game to him. "But those words just tend to slip outta me."
Vaggie's irritation flared up once again, her patience wearing thin. She shot him a stern look, her voice filled with exasperation.
"My name is Vaggie, and this is Charlie," Vaggie introduced the two of them. "We-" she continued, but before she could finish her sentence, Angel playfully interjected.
"Like vagina?" Angel asked aloud, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. It was clear that he was still finding amusement in testing their patience, treating the situation as a personal source of entertainment.
"We have a proposition for you," Vaggie said, her voice resolute despite her frustration. She was determined to make Angel understand the importance of their mission, even if he seemed dismissive. "Your princess, Charlie here, has repurposed one of her family's buildings into a rehabilitation center for souls like you who believe they have a chance at redemption."
Angel's interest was piqued as Vaggie continued, her voice carrying a sense of purpose. "Our goal is to get at least one damned soul into Heaven. Just one, to prove that it is possible.
"Is it?" Angel Dust inquired, eyeing the girls with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.
"We don't know yet," Vaggie admitted.
"Uh huuuuh...right..." Angel responded, falling back into a disinterested torpor.
"But," Charlie said, her voice infused with a mix of excitement and hesitation, trying to regain the Spiders attention. "We want you to be our first test subject!"
"Why me?" Angel asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and vulnerability. He cocked his head to the side, the brow of his darker eye raised inquisitively, revealing a glimpse of his true self. In that moment, Charlie sensed that she was witnessing a rare display of authenticity from him. It wasn't a complete unmasking, but rather a deliberate decision to reveal a small corner of his true identity, testing her to see if she was someone he could confide in and trust.
"Because you seem like," Charlie said, her brows furrowing as he searched for the right words, attempting to find a reason that would justify why they specifically sought him out. "Someone who regrets his life choices and would be interested in self-reflection and bettering himself."
Angel, on the receiving end of Charlie's explanation, couldn't help but contort his face into an expression of confusion and skepticism. It was evident that the Princess hadn't provided a satisfactory response and had absolutely no clue about the person she was addressing.
"Because," Vaggie translated, her voice tinged with a mix of exasperation and sarcasm, "We have been talking to demons all day, and nobody has agreed to it yet."
Angel couldn't hold back his laughter, succumbing to a fit of uncontrollable amusement as he rolled onto his back. The two girls had embarked on a mission to find sinners willing to embark on a path of redemption, but their efforts had yielded no positive responses. And now, here they were, conversing with a sex worker of all people—a profession that, by its very nature, revolved around indulgence and temptation.
The whole scenario was so profoundly ironic and disheartening that it became comical in its own tragic way.
"Look," Vaggie explained, her tone conveying a mix of weariness and frustration, even though deep down, she had already formed the conclusion that the Spider wasn't genuinely interested in helping them. "You get free meals, free housing, and protection from Hell's constant hazards. That *is* if you agree to attend to what activities we plan and genuinely attempt to rectify your behavior!"
"Sounds lame," Angel remarked after fit of laughter, his comment eliciting a mix of exasperation and frustration from Vaggie. She could feel her patience wearing thin, the urge to strangle him growing stronger with each passing moment.
Feeling the tension rise, Charlie quickly stepped in, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend in a gentle but firm embrace. She knew all too well the fire that burned within the female sinner, and was determined to diffuse the situation before it escalated further.
"Aw," Charlie interjected, her voice filled with compassion. "You can't tell me you enjoy standing on the side of the street, waiting for someone to pay to..." He trailed off, suddenly flustered and embarrassed about what he was about to say. "You know..."
"I don't know," Angel smirked wolfishly at her, his tone laced with a hint of mischief as though daring her to say what she was going to say. "Please, finish that sentence."
Vaggie had reached her breaking point. The frustration and exasperation she had been holding at bay came rushing to the surface. It was clear to her that they were wasting their time.
"Charlie," Vaggie stated firmly, her voice carrying a note of insistence. "He's not a good candidate. We'll just have to look again tomorrow."
Unbeknownst to the two girls, Angel's mind was spinning with conflicting thoughts. He wasn't sure if he could fully trust Vaggie and Charlie, uncertain if their plan would truly lead to the redemption they were proposing. But deep down, he knew that if he played his cards right, this could be his chance to escape the clutches of Valentino and the dark world he was trapped in.
"Hey," Angel called out, his voice carrying a touch of defiance. "Who said I'm not a good pick? You broads don't know me. I could be whatever I wanna be!"
His words were laced with a mixture of determination and a burning desire to prove himself. Angel was not one to back down from a challenge, especially when it came to a potential freedom.
"Then prove it," Vaggie challenged, her voice firm and unwavering. The tension between Angel and herself crackled in the air as their gazes locked, both refusing to back down.
The Moth girl and Spider man seemed to be at an impasse, their eyes locked in a battle of wills. Each held their ground, unwilling to yield to the other's dominance.
"I'm in..." Angel finally said, much to Vaggie's surprise.
"Really!?" Charlie enthusiastically cheered.
"Really?" Vaggie echoed suspiciously.
"Yeah," Angel commented casually. "I'm also three months behind on my rent, so free housin' sounds fucking good to me. Plus, it'll be nice not to have to suck the greasy landlord's dick every month."
"Charming," Vaggie groaned in disgust.
"Anyway," Angel said, his voice trailing off as he stretched out his limbs. "If that's all, then I guess I should prob'ly get back to work today, at least. If you gals aren't paying for playing, I still need to make about—" The Spider was interrupted before he could finish his sentence, as Charlie placed a stack of money in his hands. He ran his fingers through it skeptically, mentally calculating its worth. "What's this?" he finally asked, tilting his head in confusion. The darker of his mismatched eyes, searched for an explanation.
"Money," Charlie cheerfully responded with the obvious.
"For...?" Angel's darker eye narrowed in suspicion as he examined the stack of money. He usually received payment for his services, but he couldn't recall doing anything for these girls that would warrant such compensation. His confusion deepened as he awaited an explanation, his mismatched eyes fixed on the blond haired girl as though finally taking notice of her. He had been aware of her, but now it appeared he was actually seeing her.
"Helping us," Charlie cheerfully responded, meeting Angel's surprised gaze. She could sense that he had momentarily let down his guard, revealing a glimpse of his true self. It was as if he had chosen to lift the mask once again, testing the waters to determine if she was someone he could trust. But this time, she could tell that he had lifted it farther than he had ever done before, granting her a deeper insight into his character.
"This is a trick," Angel said, his voice tinged with suspicion. He struggled to comprehend what he had done to warrant such unexpected generosity. The idea of receiving something without a catch seemed foreign to him, and he couldn't shake off his skepticism.
"No," Charlie patiently explained, her voice filled with genuine sincerity. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on Angel's chest, looking up into his eyes with a warm and friendly smile. "This is an investment in you. There's so much more to you than you realize, Angel. We genuinely want to help you."
Angel was visibly struck by Charlie's words. He found himself caught in a moment of introspection, considering the possibility that there might be more to his life than his current circumstances. He debated with himself, contemplating whether he should confide in her, and how much he could safely reveal. However, all too quickly, his self-protective instincts kicked in, and he instinctively donned his customary mask once again, shielding his vulnerability.
"Pfft...okay," Angel scoffed as the car came to a stop. "I mean, I don't need any help, so... yeah." With a hint of reluctance, he climbed out of the car, lifting his mask one last time. He understood the immense risk he was taking by opening up even the slightest bit. Unknown dangers would surely follow him if he allowed things to progress further. Anxious and watchful, he scanned his surroundings, half-expecting Valentino's limo to materialize out of thin air. If his boss discovered he had been seen talking to the actual Princess of Hell herself, there would be consequences. Although Val might not pry too much, he would undoubtedly sense that this encounter was no mere coincidence. And if his father found out he was getting entangled with the only child of King Luci, well, the repercussions would be severe. There was also another matter that could spell trouble, but Angel mentally admonished himself not to disclose his involvement with a certain VIP client he entertained upon request. "Okaaay... well, um... thanks," Angel stammered, trying to compose himself. "We'll be in touch, huh?" He offered a weak smile, his eyes flickering with a mixture of apprehension and longing, unsure of what the future held for him and the potential repercussions of his actions.
"Yes, and thank you," Charlie said, extending her hand towards Angel. The two demons clasped hands, sealing the beginning of a new friendship that held promise for both of them. As the car drove away, Charlie couldn't help but cast a lingering glance out the back window, feeling a sense of deep empathy for Angel. She sensed a profound pain and sorrow within him, something he was not yet ready to reveal but she believed he eventually would. She held onto the hope that she could guide him out of the darkness where he felt lost and alone. She knew that the journey ahead would be long and challenging, but with love and time, she believed his festering wounds could finally heal. Only then would redemption become possible, and together they would find a brighter path forward.
Angel sat on the bed in one of the on-call rooms, his knees drawn up to his chin. He had received a message informing him that he was specifically requested by an exclusive client. Consequently, he was brought to this room to wait for their arrival. Time seemed to crawl as he concentrated on regulating his breathing, attempting to calm his nerves as the minutes ticked by.
Valentino's presence had been relatively less imposing recently, as if he were intentionally diverting his attention elsewhere. However, Angel knew better than to assume he was off the hook. Val, being an Overlord, was always two steps ahead, perpetually plotting. For now, Angel felt like he was left dangling, being watched by his boss, waiting for a slip-up, a moment of vulnerability that would enable Val to regain control over him. And when that moment arrived, Angel feared he would be utterly shattered.
Deep down, Angel acknowledged that he couldn't keep the truth about the rapes hidden from Cherri much longer. He had been hesitant to reveal the painful reality to her, knowing it would only fuel her determination to go after Val. It wasn't that he had purposefully concealed or denied the occurrence of such heinous acts. Given his profession and the nature of his work, it should be evident that abuse and sexual assault were part of the same sinister fabric.
Angel found solace in the knowledge that Cherri was a strong and capable individual, capable of holding her own in a fight. He wasn't consumed by worry when it came to her, knowing that she possessed the strength and resilience to confront challenges head-on. Even reflecting on his younger twin sister Molly, Angel recognized that she had never been a helpless little girl. Both Cherri and Molly had proven themselves to be formidable and determined individuals, capable of facing adversity with unwavering resolve.
As a result of his cultural upbringing, the notion of family, or "la Famiglia," held sacred significance to Angel. He was raised with the deeply ingrained belief that family was the cornerstone of life itself. It provided a sense of belonging, fostering social cohesion and unity. In his world, family members stood together, always watching each other's backs. Moreover, anyone who set foot in their household was embraced and treated as part of the family, experiencing the warmth and protection they offered.
However, being born as the child of a notorious and dangerous Mafioso came with its own set of challenges. It didn't earn Angel many genuine friends, nor did it guarantee the companionship of the right kind of people. In fact, discovering his homosexuality in addition to his lineage meant he faced the threat of being disowned or, worse yet, falling victim to violence and murder. The conflicting forces of loyalty, love, and the dangers associated with his circumstances weighed heavily on him, making his journey through life an intricate dance between acceptance, survival, and self-discovery.
Cherri held a unique place in Angel's heart, and although she could never replace his beloved sister Molly, he cherished her as a member of his chosen family. He viewed her as an adopted sister and had an unwavering determination to protect her from harm. In his eyes, the thought of someone deliberately hurting Cherri was unfathomable, and he would face any obstacle, even if it meant facing divine retribution, to ensure her safety.
Similarly, Angel felt a sense of belonging and acceptance with the people at the hotel—Charlie, Vaggie, and the rest of the crew. Although he hadn't known them for long and hadn't yet developed the same level of trust as he had with Cherri, being welcomed and included as part of their group made him feel like he was finally part of a real family. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in ages, and he recognized that they offered him a sense of connection that surpassed the dysfunctional family he was born into. Despite this newfound sense of belonging, doubts still lingered within the Spider. He couldn't help but question if this sense of family would truly endure or if it was merely temporary, and the uncertainty weighed on his mind.
Angel himself struggled to comprehend the reasons behind his enduring resilience in the face of the countless horrors inflicted upon him by Valentino and others throughout the years. There were moments in the past when his defenses had faltered and he felt the weight of the pain bear down on him. During those times, he turned to drugs as a means to numb himself, shielding his true emotions behind a mask of egotism. He projected an image to the world that he could endure anything and laugh it off, all while hiding the cracks within.
However, more recently, Angel began to notice a gradual crumbling of the walls he had meticulously built around himself. The thorny barriers he had erected around his soul were slowly unraveling. He questioned whether this change was a result of the hotel and the people he was daring to trust, or if it was simply the cumulative effect of Valentino's toxic influence finally taking its toll. The overwhelming nature of it all left him grappling for answers, uncertain of the true catalyst behind this transformation he was experiencing.
Angel's hand instinctively moved to his head, a physical manifestation of the overwhelming weakness that washed over him. He had been carefully spacing out his drug use, making sure not to reveal any signs of being under the influence while at the hotel. It had been a couple of days, maybe three, since he last indulged in his stash. Dust had a lingering effect in the body for about eight days, and he could already sense his own body yearning for another hit. It craved that temporary rush of detached pleasure.
After serving this client, he was instructed to meet Val in the penthouse before he could finally clock out for the night. The mere thought sent a shudder through his body. Rumors had circulated around the studio that Vox and Val had a heated argument, potentially leading to another breakup between them. If that was true, Val would be in an even more unpleasant mood, seeking an outlet for his frustrations, often at Angel's expense. He desperately hoped that it was all a misunderstanding and that he would be allowed to leave once he completed the check-in. If Val demanded he stay longer, Angel hoped he would have the opportunity to contact the hotel and inform them that he would be returning later than expected. He knew his extended absence would worry Charlie and the others, especially Cherri, who would likely take it upon herself to take action if she grew too concerned.
A knock resounded through the room, followed by the entrance of his client for the evening. The door swung open, revealing a figure that Angel was all too familiar with. The person wore a smile that Angel had seen too many times before, accompanied by the unmistakable rosy circles on their cheeks.
"Hello, Angel dear," A masculine voice simpered. "Ready to have some...fun?"