Side Story I - Similar, not the same (III).

A/N: Apologies for missing last week. New routine at the gym got me fucked up for three straight days. My own fault because I was being retarded. So today you get III and IV. Hopefully I won't skip another upload day (Until there is no more material).

Less than an hour after her little rendezvous with Alastor had Rosie again back in her Emporium. Her duties left her less time to unwind than before, although some were more pleasant than others.

"Of course dear! Send that little beauty of yours my way. I'll have a few words with her, I promise. I am sure nervousness is all there is, considering how gaga you two are for each other."

Rosie giggled as the young Cannibal lady in front of her nodded with a blush. Ah, love. This young woman and her darling of a lover were so damn shy! True that the Cannibal Colony catered to the 1920s and earlier, but that didn't mean anyone here would mind two women going hand in hand! Although it was true Cannibals were a bit less on the 'deviant' side of things. Perhaps it had to do with their regular way of life being already 'a bit too much'? Heh, Rosie couldn't care less. Although it was likely more to do with their more prominent animalistic side and the desire of having a significant other to procreate with without the need of external aids.

Whatever, Rosie had never cared before and she wouldn't start now. It was always nice playing matchmaker. It helped solve many of her own issues, if only for a time, and made Rosie smile in delight when she saw two lovers, those she helped connect, holding each other in a bloodstained embrace after hunting their next meal in perfect union.

Though putting up a strong front had been hard after her little outing with Alastor. That she did mind more than a little bit.

Whatever an Overlord felt, it was not good business to promote it openly. Only brazen idiots like the Vees did so, and only because they felt themselves untouchable. Were they powerful enough to not care? Yes. Were they powerful to do the same if ALONE? No. It was just the fear of the three of them, or the other two if the worst came to pass, that got most people to back down from acting on the natural desire to shut them up.

Rosie was almost always smiling in public, that was true. Almost everyone in her position had a mask they wore. Even the Vees did so. Valentino could be a sweet bastard or fury incarnate, but that was a way to hide the pathetic coward behind it. Vox was a braggart and a control freak that did his best to hide the insecure and weak willed shitstain he was behind closed doors. Velvette was a 'bad bitch' that spoke shit online and on your face with no fear whatsoever, only to suffer terror attacks the moment her image of youth and perfect online persona were besmirched in any way.

And they were just the easiest to tell.

Every Overlord was, in the end, a person. They all hid their secrets, they all had shit they didn't want others to notice. And they all had their preferred ways they wanted others to perceive them as.

They all did a piss poor job at it, only truly hidden by the piss staining fear their power made others feel.

"Now my dear, how about you tell that lovely girl to come to me ne-." The ringing of a phone cut Rosie mid stride, making the hustle and bustle of her Emporium soften for a moment as the Overlord looked at the phone at her side with a strained smile. "Sorry dearies, I have to take this."

Curiosity and the desire for gossip was strong in the Cannibal Colony. Despite the respect (and no little amount of fear) most felt for Rosie, the crowd that had been pooling around her Emporium did keep their distance, but not as much as she would've liked.

It was definitely not enough the moment she heard Franklin's* voice.

[Franklin, in this universe, is a fellow Cannibal woman and Rosie's partner in her business, not her husband, in case that ends being what happens in Canon.]

"Rosie! Glad you picked up. I loathe to tell you this, but I will be off for a day or two more than expected." Not even a proper hello. Rosie's left eye threatened to twitch as her smile strained. Those that had known her long enough opted to take a few more steps back. "Family matters, you see."

"Why, of course dear. I understand. Completely." Rosie all but had to fight to keep her voice levels and push those words out. "Anything in particular though? You haven't been available much after the last Extermination. We barely had a full call BEFORE the angels came this year!"

"Oh I know, but that is how busy I have been. And now? Just my cousin having another child. You know how she is. This family is growing every few months and every other mess seems to need my attention too, no matter what I do. Sometimes it is a curse to have a mind this gifted for numbers and organization, you know?" Franklin chuckled, a few other giggles and words Rosie knew were coming from Franklin's FAR TOO big of a family (And far too big of a headache) reaching the Overlord's ears. "It will not take more than three days tops, I swear. I'll be back to help you keep the books in order and get everything else organized soon after. Considering my time away you deserve nothing less. See you soon, dear!"

And just like that, with ovaries sturdier than cast steel, Franklin hung up.

So did Rosie.

Smile empty.

"Well dearies!" Her voice was not much better. "Seems my dear FRANKLIN will be busy for a few more days. So if you excuse me, I need to get a few things in order before we are out of supplies. You know how things can get if a job isn't properly DONE."

Now that was murder in her voice, despite the pleasant tone. Silence reigned all over the Emporium as Rosie excused herself, going upstairs to get to work.

Or that is what should've happened.

Instead Rosie had utterly trashed her office in mere minutes. The soundproofing of the room tested to its limits as the Overlord's rarely seen rage boiled to the point of exploding.

The fucking BITCH!

It was always the same shit! No. Worse this time. It was a Contract. A fucking CONTRACT of partnership. One offered in good faith to a friend. Someone close. No, not close. THOUGHT to be close. But Rosie, despite her age and wit, was the vivid image of an old dog and new tricks. Because it went as it usually did: She got FUCKED. It is always the same. Fucking. THING. It doesn't matter who it is. There is always something that fucks it up.

Franklin was incredible at keeping a tight ship. Rosie was no slouch, but she knew where she faltered even after working tirelessly to recover all her lost skills. She was a people's person more so than a businesswoman. She knew how to please, how to guide, how to plan and how to scheme. She could make anyone's life 'Heaven', or as close as possible if she was willing to help. She could also make it look like Hell was a walk in the park compared to how horrible she could make your life. Rosie was a woman with a plan for every situation, but it had to do with people.

It was no mystery that Rosie loved her work. Not just her counseling to couples and playing matchmaker with many demons, Sinners or hellborn. No, what she loved outside of the people around her, other than cooking her favorite meals, was sewing.

Creating clothes was akin to cooking, but more a true job than her hobby. Making a meal requires art and skill, sometimes even a bit of imagination. Making a dress was more similar, but she also found it very close to creating a relationship. And, unlike Rosie's past romances, she was adept at using a needle. She could visualize what she wanted and her hands went to work their magic. That is how she had been with everything before she opened her doors. EVERY single thing she did was perhaps not perfect, but very fucking close.

Had Rosie kept her skills polished and her heart guarded she wouldn't have made the mistakes she did with all those men. She wouldn't have accepted help from all those fuckers and allowed her abilities to rust. Had she done right, Rosie wouldn't have to suffer Franklin fucking her over every time she could. The Contract ensured Rosie couldn't get rid of her, but that woman had been one of the final nails in the coffin when it came to Rosie's trust on her own feelings about those she thought close.

Rosie had shaken the rust of those skills she had allowed others to help with. She was a woman capable of anything. In Hell there was no 'weak sex', there was 'alive' and 'dead', and Rosie's good nature, when compared to others, was getting her close to being disposable. As such Franklin was the last mistake, she swore. Unless…

No, fuck that. Fuck her doubts! FUCK EVERY-!

Rosie blinks, the fog is receding. She pants, calming breaths come soon after. And, finally, she looks at the office. Her hat fell at some point, resting on the table. Her hair was wild, but easily fixed. She was panting, not tired, angry. Many of the copies of her favorite books (For the originals were NOT going to be anywhere near the one place she was willing to vent) were shredded. A few unfinished documents and a ledger were trashed beyond recovery by any normal means.

And that was just the things she didn't care about. The important damage was completely ignored. Doing otherwise would start this up again.

Why always this shit? Why?

Rosie went to her seat and admired the damage. It would take her an hour to get everything as it was. Time spent, magic wasted. No one was to know about this, the Overlord wouldn't allow it. Rosie must be the perfect, smiling, powerful figure. Rosie must keep her cool.

Rosie…

…

Rosie needed to make a call.