Poison

by Venka le fay

Angel Dust is given an overdose of a love potion by Valentino, causing him to collapse and fall into a coma upon returning to the Hazbin Hotel. Husk, Cherri, Charlie, and Vaggie scramble to save him, battling against time and the potion's effects. Amidst the crisis, the hotel's team uncovers the extent of Valentino's manipulative control over Angel, fueling their resolve to protect

1. Chapter 1

Poison

Disclaimer: I don't own Hazbin Hotel, but love the Hellverse that Vivzie Pop has created. Please support the offical series.

Velvette sighed in frustration as she meticulously planned a line of cosmetics she aimed to release under her brand. She had committed to her followers across all platforms that she would unveil an extraordinary cosmetic line in three months, yet every step seemed to lead to setbacks. First, the formula for the cosmetics was flawed, resulting in inconsistent textures and unexpected reactions. Then, there were issues with how the makeup reacted to the skin during application, causing irritation and uneven coverage. Now, the shading was off, with colors not matching the vibrant, diverse palette she had envisioned. She feared reaching the deadline with nothing to show for it. While she could extend the timeline due to difficulties, that was a tactic for amateurs, not someone of her caliber. She needed a successful launch on the designated date, and she was prepared to go to great lengths to achieve it.

Her workspace was cluttered with samples, test tubes, and swatches of various shades. Velvette meticulously inspected each one, her frustration growing with each imperfection she encountered. The pressure to deliver perfection weighed heavily on her, and the ticking clock only added to her anxiety.

"Hey Hermanita," Val said casually as he entered Velvette's department, his voice smooth and nonchalant. He leaned against the doorframe, his blank red eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and curiosity as he observed her working diligently.

Velvette barely glanced up, her irritation evident. "What the heck do you want?" she grumbled, not bothering to hide her annoyance. She couldn't stand her colleagues bothering her when they could clearly see she was busy. If someone had to interrupt, she would have preferred it to be Vox; he was at least tolerable. She shot Valentino a glare, hoping he'd take the hint and leave her to her work.

"Ah, you see," Valentino started, beating around the bush before getting to the point. "I'm sure you're aware that Angel has joined a certain hotel some months ago." His tone was smooth, but there was an edge to it, hinting at the underlying tension. He watched Velvette closely, gauging her reaction to the mention of Angel and the infamous hotel.

"Yeah," Velvette rolled her eyes. "That hotel where the Princess thinks she can redeem sinners and get them into Heaven. If your eight-legged fuck toy wants to believe that Lucifer's offspring can secure him a spot in Heaven to suck the dick of Jesus 'Bloody' Christ, that's your problem, not mine. So, is there a point to this visit, or are you here just to annoy me?" She leaned back, crossing her arms, clearly impatient and unimpressed with Valentino's presence.

"You remember that love potion you created for me?" Valentino asked, finally getting to the point. "I know you told me a single drop was enough, but I want to know what would happen if someone was given a larger dose."

Velvette stopped her work, looking up at Valentino with an incredulous expression. "You can't be serious," she said, narrowing her eyes. "A larger dose? Val, what the hell are you planning? What sort of dosage are you asking?"

"Let's say, figuratively, about half the bottle," Valentino offered a rough estimate, his tone casual as if discussing the weather.

"Are you out of your mind?" Velvette exclaimed in horror. "That potion is not to be trifled with. Even a quarter of the bottle is potent enough to give a full-grown bull rhino a heart attack and leave it in a coma for a year. Don't you care about the impact on my brand if that spider is poisoned?" Her voice was a mix of anger and panic as she stared at Valentino, unable to comprehend his reckless suggestion.

"Velvette, please understand," Valentino pleaded, his tone shifting to a mix of desperation and anger. "Ever since Angel joined that wretched hotel, he's picked up some bad habits that reflect poorly on me. He publicly stood up to me at 'Consent' a month ago. That ungrateful whore owes his fame to MEEE, yet he thinks Princess Morningstar can be his salvation."

He paused, his eyes narrowing with a sinister glint. "I don't just want Angel to suffer; I need Lucifer's daughter to see the consequences of taking my personal property. Did you know she even came to me, wanting to give Angel time off for her redemption activities and then set my studio on fire?" Valentino's voice grew colder, each word laced with venomous intent as he leaned closer to Velvette, seeking her complicity.

"So that's it," Velvette remarked, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Your favorite toy decided to live elsewhere, and now you're insecure about not having 24/7 access to him. Look, V, that spider is still under contract with you. Just forbid him from returning to that hotel, lock him in his dressing room. The Princess would have to accept it's within your rights, given you practically own the slut." She crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed with Valentino's dramatics. "You don't need a potion to control him. Use the power you already have."

"Don't be so sure," Valentino said, his voice tinged with irritation. "King Lucifer is living at that hotel now. He was once part of Heaven, and his involvement might be the key to getting Angel in." He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing. "This isn't just about control. It's about sending a message. If that twink thinks he can defy me and get away with it, he's sorely mistaken. I need to make sure Angel and everyone at that hotel understands the consequences of crossing me."

"So?" Velvette retorted, her tone sharp. "If that were the case, it would have happened already. If you're going to be so upset, accept that Angel has outlived his usefulness and just be rid of him. People will tire of used goods sooner or later, especially when they realize said goods can't act for shit. You have a whole stable of talent to choose from; find someone worth the trouble. Or are you too busy pushing one product, thinking no one notices he's the best you have to offer?" She smirked, her eyes glinting with a mix of disdain and challenge. "Maybe it's time you diversify instead of clinging to a lost cause."

"Well," Val excused, his voice smooth but defensive, "Angel is my top earner. Of course, I'd push him as much as possible. Besides, he owes me for everything I've done for him, all I've sacrificed to give him the life he has." Valentino's eyes flickered with a hint of frustration as he continued, "You think I don't know the value of diversification? Angel's success is a testament to my investment. Losing him isn't just about profit—it's about principle."

"What you do with him isn't my concern," Velvette said, her tone dismissive. "Just don't come crying to me if he's not so fun when he's in a sleeping beauty spell. No kiss of any kind will break him out of that slumber." She glanced back at her work, clearly done with the conversation. "Just remember, Val, there are consequences to everything. Make sure you're ready to face them."

"Understood," Val said, his mouth twisting into an evil grin as he turned and left for his studio. His mind raced with the possibilities, the sinister satisfaction of his plan taking root.

---

"Where's Angel?" Vaggie inquired, her gaze sweeping over the assembled guests and staff at the hotel. Everyone was present and accounted for except the spider demon. "Has anyone seen him?" she asked, her voice laced with urgency. It hadn't been long since the hotel had been rebuilt, with Angel and now Cherri as the only current guests. Her brow furrowed with concern as she scanned the room, the absence of the flamboyant demon unsettling.

With Lucifer's assistance, they had crafted a new commercial promoting the hotel and its offerings, which proved even more promising than the one developed with Alastor's help. They weren't emphasizing the idea of ushering sinners into Heaven anymore. In light of their experiences and understanding of Heaven, it seemed safer to focus on improving the lives of people in Hell. However, that didn't mean their endeavors were going to unfold smoothly. Challenges and unforeseen complications still loomed on the horizon, but they were more determined than ever to make a difference in the underworld.

"He was called into the studio," Husk explained, his voice gruff as he took a swig from his flask. "Some last minute filming." He shrugged, barely glancing up from his drink. "You know how Val is. Always something up his sleeve."

"And you didn't stop him?" Vaggie accused, her voice sharp with frustration. She shot Husk a glare, clearly displeased with his lack of intervention.

"Not my place," Husk responded, placing a new shipment of alcohol on the shelves behind the bar. Although his posture suggested he disliked Angel's involvement with the studio as much as anyone else did. Lately, Angel had been returning to the hotel after a day at the studio looking worse for wear. On good days, he was merely exhausted and needed immediate rest, but on others, Husk found himself escorting Angel to his room before anyone else saw how beaten up he had become. He sighed, glancing at Vaggie. "Trust me, I hate it too, but there's only so much I can do."

There was little point in debating whether Angel should consider quitting the studio. Both Husk and Angel knew it was impossible due to the soul contract the porn star was under. Still, they understood that Valentino wasn't content with merely abusing the spider into submission; he aimed to dominate the pornstar completely. The oppressive weight of that contract hung over them, a constant reminder of the control Valentino wielded.

"What do you mean it's not your place?" Vaggie demanded of the demon cat, her eyes narrowing with anger. "That studio is making it hard for Angel to participate in the activities we have planned, and Cherri doesn't exactly take this project seriously on her own." She crossed her arms, clearly frustrated. "We need Angel here, not worn out and broken by whatever film he's involved in. If we don't do something, this whole project is going to fall apart."

"It's his job, Vaggie," Charlie said, attempting to convey understanding. "Besides, he... he always comes home, so there's nothing to worry about." Despite her attempt at reassurance, it was evident that the amount of time Angel spent in the studio was bothering her. There were occasions when she tried to stop Angel before he left, attempting to persuade him to stay at the hotel. She didn't fully comprehend why she considered the studio and the V tower such toxic places, but she clearly understood that Valentino was behind it. Since her unsuccessful attempt to convince Valentino to grant Angel time off, she had realized that sometimes her desire to help only caused more problems. As much as she disliked knowing that the male demon wasn't happy with his work, she couldn't intervene. Unless the Spider explicitly sought her help, she had to trust that he knew what he was doing.

"I'm sorry," Lucifer spoke up, seemingly trying to grasp the context of the conversation. "What is this studio you are talking about?" His eyes flicked between the faces of those gathered, a mix of curiosity and mild concern in his tone as he sought to understand the issue at hand.

"It's the Porn Studio, Dad," Charlie said, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and resignation. "Angel works there as a performer." She glanced at Lucifer, hoping he understood the weight of the situation. "It's run by Valentino, and he's been making things really hard for Angel to participate in our redemption activities."

"Oh right," Lucifer responded, as if finally catching up with the conversation. "He's the porn star... right?" He nodded slowly, his expression shifting to one of contemplation. "Isn't that a little contradictory to what you're trying to do?"

"Trust me, Dad," Charlie continued, her tone earnest. "I know it sounds hard to believe, but Angel has shown a lot of progress and potential toward redeeming himself. So, don't let the knowledge that he does... well, stuff I'd rather not describe in detail as a career imply that he isn't capable of change. In fact, Angel was the first person involved in the hotel with me and Vaggie. He was actually part of the hotel two weeks before Alastor arrived to help." She looked at her father, hoping he could see the sincerity in her eyes. "He's more than his job, and he's trying really hard to be better."

"If you call that spider simply coexisting with you two ladies' involvement," Alastor teased as he materialized in the parlor, much to Lucifer's annoyance. "This project never would have gotten off its feet if I hadn't helped you create this establishment." He flashed a wide, unsettling grin, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Let's not forget who brought the real magic to this little endeavor."

"That is true," Charlie admitted, her tone sincere. "You have been a great help to this hotel and to this project. If you hadn't informed me that Carmilla Carmine should be someone who would know how we could defend ourselves against Adam and his army of Exorcists. Plus, introducing me to Rosie gave us the people to support us in our battle. Without that, I might have lost everyone."

Charlie's attention shifted to the painting of Sir Pentious, given a place of honor on the parlor wall. Below the portrait, a plaque read, "In Honor of General Sir Pentious. Valued friend who faithfully fought for this Hotel and family." She smiled softly, reflecting on the sacrifices and alliances that had brought them this far.

"Okay," Charlie announced as she put her brave face back on. "Since Angel isn't here with us right now, why don't we share something that happened in our lives?" She looked around at the gathered group, hoping to lighten the mood and foster a sense of camaraderie. "It doesn't have to be anything major—just a moment or experience that stands out." She smiled warmly, encouraging everyone to participate.

"Oi, question," Cherri inquired with a laid-back tone, leaning back in her chair. "Is this specifically a memory from our human lives, or does it include our lives here in Hell? Not all of us here started off as human, ya know." She smirked, glancing around the room, her question adding a layer of intrigue to the idea. "So, what are the rules for this little storytelling session?"

"I'm glad you brought that up, Cherri," Charlie said, nodding appreciatively. "You can decide whether to talk about the time when you were alive or any memory you may have of your time before joining the hotel. Dad, if you'd like to start?" She turned to Lucifer, her eyes full of curiosity and anticipation, eager to hear what he would share.

"Thanks, Charlie," Lucifer said before clearing his throat. "The memory I'd like to share is when my darling daughter was born. Oh, she was so small and cute; I had trouble believing that I could make that. I just fell in love the first moment I saw her, and I vowed to myself that I'd never let anything hurt her." He smiled warmly at Charlie, his eyes softening with the fond memory. "It was a moment of pure joy and pride, and it's something I hold close to my heart even now."

"Aww, thank you, Dad," Charlie beamed a warm smile before turning to the rest of the assembled members of the hotel. "Alright, next, Niffty... do you have a memory you'd like to share?"

"The memory I'd like to share was that time I stabbed that 'Bad Boy' Angel last week," Niffty said, giggling inanely. "I just snuck up behind him and was all 'Stab! Stab, stab!'" She mimicked the motion with her hands, her laughter filling the room.

"Is that... is that one okay?" Lucifer asked Charlie in concern, his brow furrowing. "I'm no psychologist, but I don't think she's okay."

Charlie gave a nervous chuckle, glancing at Niffty who was still giggling. "She's... enthusiastic, Dad," Charlie said, trying to downplay the situation. "Niffty has her own way of showing she cares. But yes, maybe we should keep the memories a bit less... stabby?" She turned to the rest of the group, hoping for a smoother story next.

"Ha ha," Alastor laughed, his voice echoing with amusement. "Classic Niffty, truly classic. I wish I had been there to witness you give Adam his dishonorable discharge from existence."

"All right then," Charlie said, moving to the next assembled resident of the hotel. "Cherri... do you have a memory to share?"

"Pass," Cherri said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. She leaned back in the arm chair, clearly uninterested in sharing anything personal at the moment.

"Um, Cherri," Charlie tried to maintain an inviting composure. Cherri Bomb, while helpful during the fight to protect the hotel and in rebuilding it, was a bit more difficult to get to participate in the hotel's activity. Often,

Angel had to be present in the group for her to show any sort of engagement at all. If the Porn Star was away at the studio or doing anything that made him less than available, then Cherri was less likely to be engaged with the group. "You are the newest guest here at the Hotel, so it would be good for you to share a memory with the group."

"Nothin' to say," Cherri remarked, her Aussie chill vibes making it clear she wasn't too bothered. "I like to party, that's all that really matters to me." A carefree grin on her face as she looked around the room. "You all know I'm here for a good time, not a long time."

"Well," Charlie suggested invitingly, "you are close friends with Angel, right? Maybe you could share a memory involving the two of you?" She smiled warmly, hoping to encourage Cherri to open up a bit more.

"Yeah," Cherri affirmed with a nod. "Of course, I'm best mates with that bitch; we go way back."

"So maybe you have something to share about your friendship with Angel," Charlie encouraged. "Like how did you meet, what's something fun you do together, maybe something you know about him that's safe for you to share."

"Can't say I can spill the beans on Angie," Cherri mused. "He's pretty 'less said is better' about his human life, so I don't know squat about that. I'm the one he likes to turn to when he's got something messed up that he's dealing with. Which is a lot of the time, given how that dickhead boss of his treats him." She crossed her arms, her expression darkening slightly. "But we always find a way to blow off steam, one way or another. That's what friends are for, right?"

"Wait," Vaggie asked in concern, turning to Charlie. "Didn't you say something happened when you visited the Porn Studio some months back?" Her brow furrowed, worry evident in her eyes as she recalled the incident.

"Yeah," Charlie said, her arms hugged around herself at the memory. She could remember the feeling of unease she felt when Valentino demanded Angel have a talk with him in his dressing room. She had reached out to stop Angel, but what could she say? This wasn't her building, and she had made some missteps in her attempt to reason. After the door to the dressing room closed, the rest of the actors and production crew around didn't pay her any attention as they cleaned up the set or waited for production to restart.

While nothing could be heard outside, some of the stagehands would glance towards the room as though knowing something was occurring. In a small span of minutes that felt like an eternity, Valentino stormed out, one hand clenched around one of Angel's biceps. She wanted to assume that it was her imagination, but she could see Angel had a black eye that hadn't been there when he went into the room. That's when Valentino threw Angel towards the bed. The rage she had felt at what this Overlord felt he could do to Angel...

She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "It was one of the hardest things I've had to witness. I wanted to do something, to stop it, but...Angel stopped me and told me to leave."

"Wait," Lucifer asked, his voice wavering between horror and concern. "My daughter was at a porn studio… alone?!" He looked at Charlie, his eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and protective anger. "What could have possibly been done to you there?"

"I wasn't alone, Dad!" Charlie asserted. "Angel was called into work that day, so I thought I'd go talk to Valentino, his employer. I had wanted to convince him to let Angel have time off so he can be more involved in the redemption exercises." She looked at Lucifer, trying to reassure him. "I thought if I could reason with Valentino, it might help Angel. But it was a lot more complicated and dangerous than I expected."

"Seriously?" Cherri snorted, though there wasn't a trace of amusement in her tone. "You'd have an easier time asking that drongo to break Angie's neck. Trust me, I've wanted to go over and blow the place up more than once myself. Angie always stops me and tells me it's his shit to deal with. He shares a lot of the depressing and horrible stuff via text message. So, I like to help him shake off the muck by going out to party, paint the town red, maybe a little mischief to get the edge off." She crossed her arms, her expression hardening. "It's messed up, but it's the best I can do."

"What do you mean by depressing and horrible?" Vaggie asked, her voice laced with concern. She had a sick feeling she knew, and given how quiet the other members of the hotel had gotten, they had come to similar conclusions. The only one who seemed blissfully ignorant was Niffty, but even then, it was hard to tell how much she really understood.

"Oh," Cherri said casually. "Stuff like 'Val's made me do this,' 'I had to do that,' 'Val assaulted me three times before lunch.' That sort of shit."

Charlie's eyes widened in shock. She had never expected this, but now that she thought of it… was it possible that Angel had been trying to tell her all along but she had never noticed?

"Let's continue this later," Vaggie said, noticing that Charlie had become distressed. She gently put a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Come on, hun, you need to take a break."

Charlie nodded, her eyes still wide with shock and concern. "Yeah, you're right. Let's take a break," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. She allowed Vaggie to guide her away, her mind racing with everything she had just learned.

---

Angel's breath heaved in and out of his chest as he raced along the dimly lit streets of Pentagram City. The neon signs flickered ominously above, casting eerie shadows that danced in the night. He glanced behind him for a brief moment, trying to gauge how far his pursuers were. The street was seemingly empty, but the feeling of being watched gnawed at him. He couldn't see anyone who appeared obvious, but that didn't mean they weren't there, lurking in the shadows.

In an effort to throw off his trail, Angel veered sharply into a narrow alleyway, his heels clicking against the cobblestones. The labyrinth of back alleys twisted and turned, each corner a potential escape route or a trap. His heart pounded in his chest as he darted through the maze, the oppressive walls closing in on him. The sounds of the city became muffled, replaced by the echo of his footsteps and the distant hum of machinery.

He made a series of quick turns, hoping to lose whoever was on his tail. The air was thick with the stench of decay and garbage, the flickering lights above barely piercing the gloom. He pushed forward, his desperation mounting with each step. But then, in his frantic escape, he made one wrong turn and found himself at a dead end. The narrow alleyway ended abruptly in a high brick wall, graffiti-covered and insurmountable.

Panting, Angel spun around, his eyes wide with panic. The alley was narrow, with no doors or windows offering an escape. He was trapped. The sound of footsteps echoed behind him, and he knew he had been cornered.

"Looks like you've got nowhere left to run, Angel Dust," a voice behind him said.

Angel spun around to see a trio of figures blocking the mouth of the alley. The one on the left cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing menacingly off the walls. He was a hulking brute, with muscles bulging under his tattered jacket, his face twisted into a cruel sneer. The one on the right suggestively grabbed his own crotch, a lewd grin spreading across his face. He was leaner, with a predatory glint in his eyes that made Angel's skin crawl. The one in the center stood strong and tall, the smirk of self-satisfaction suggesting he had enjoyed the chase. He was clearly the leader, his aura of authority and danger unmistakable.

Angel's eyes darted around, desperately searching for an escape route, but there was none. He was cornered, and he knew it. The walls of the alley loomed high and unyielding, trapping him in this claustrophobic space. The dim light from a flickering streetlamp barely illuminated the menacing figures before him.

"Didn't think you'd get away that easy, did ya?" the leader taunted, taking a step forward. His voice was smooth, but it dripped with malice. Angel could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the adrenaline surging through his veins. He tried to keep his composure, but the fear was palpable.

"Why don't you come quietly, and we can make this quick," the brute on the left growled, flexing his massive hands.

"Or not," the lewd one added with a chuckle, his grin widening as he eyed Angel. "We could have a little fun first."

Angel took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He was outnumbered and outmatched, but he wasn't going to go down without a fight. His mind raced, trying to think of a way out of this dire situation. But with every passing second, his options seemed to dwindle.

The leader's smirk grew as he saw the desperation in Angel's eyes. "What's it gonna be, Angel Dust? Are you gonna play nice, or do we have to do this the hard way?"

"Oh, poor me," Angel said coyly as he turned to face the trio of oncomers. "It's charming you think I'd give up so easily, but you'll find I'm not one to just lay down and surrender." He flashed a defiant grin, his eyes glittering with a mix of bravado and defiance.

The leader's smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a glimmer of irritation. "You really think you can take us on, Angel Dust? You're outnumbered and outclassed."

Angel's grin widened as he assumed a fighting stance. "Oh, sweetie, I live for the thrill. Let's dance."

"You're going to give us what you owe us," the center demon said, his voice dripping with menace. "Or better yet, we can take it from your body." He pushed Angel against the back wall of the alley, ripping open Angel's jacket in the process.

"Oh YES!" Angel cried out in mock delight, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he felt the demon's hardening crotch rubbing up against him. "Just what I was hoping for!" He rolled his eyes, trying to maintain his defiant bravado even as the situation grew more perilous.

"Cut," the director said.

"Move to Camera B," the assistant director announced. The crew quickly repositioned, shifting the equipment to capture a different angle. Once everything was set, the director gave the command for action.

Angel felt himself turned roughly, his front pressing against the rough, cold bricks of the wall in front of him. The sensation of the uneven surface digging into his skin sent a shiver down his spine. The alleyway, dimly lit and claustrophobic, seemed to close in on him as the scene continued to unfold. He could hear the faint hum of the camera and the shuffling of the crew just outside his line of sight.

"You like that, huh?" his co-actor sneered, his breath hot against Angel's ear. "Then maybe you'll like my little friend." The sound of a zipper being slowly lowered filled the air, a chilling prelude to what was coming next.

Angel gritted his teeth, bracing himself as he felt the inevitable intrusion. He inhaled sharply at the initial sting of discomfort, the pain shooting through him as his body was entered. The roughness of the bricks pressed harder against his chest with each push, adding another layer of sensation to the already overwhelming experience.

Gradually, the discomfort began to fade as he adjusted, his body acclimating to the rhythm of his co-actor's movements. The piston-like thrusts became more bearable with each passing moment, a numbing cadence that allowed Angel to focus on maintaining his composure. The scene, intense and grueling, continued to play out, every detail meticulously captured by the watchful eyes of the cameras.

"Oh Daddy," Angel said in false pleasure, "Do your worst to me!"

---

Valentino uncorked the love potion with a theatrical flourish, releasing its enchanting aroma to permeate the room. The sweet and alluring scent wrapped around him like a silken cocoon, instantly captivating his senses and heightening the air of mystery and allure. The delicate fragrance seemed to dance around the dimly lit room, mingling with the glow of the purplish-pink neon lights and casting an almost magical aura over the space.

With practiced precision, Valentino poured a lavishly generous amount of the potion into a stemless wine glass, the liquid cascading gracefully and swirling within the glass. The potion shimmered with an otherworldly glow, its luminous hues shifting subtly as it blended with the blood-red wine. This mesmerizing visual created an illusion of innocence, a deceptive veil that masked the true potency of the concoction.

The blood-red wine, already rich and intoxicating, now held an added layer of mystique. As the potion mixed in, it seemed to pulse with an inner light, the two liquids becoming one in a dance of enchanting elegance. Valentino, ever the showman, watched with a satisfied smile, relishing the perfection of his creation.

He moved with the grace of a seasoned performer, every gesture deliberate and infused with dramatic flair. His eyes, dark and intense, sparkled with mischief as he admired the shimmering blend. The love potion was not just a tool; it was an art form, a masterstroke of deception and seduction. Valentino took immense pride in his ability to craft such enchanting experiences, to bend the will and hearts of others to his desire.

Settling into the plush cushions of the couch, Valentino cradled his own glass of wine, the liquid within swirling in a mesmerizing dance. The rich, velvety texture of the wine caught the soft candlelight, casting a deep crimson hue that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Valentino's fingers, adorned with rings that glinted in the dim light, gently caressed the smooth surface of the glass, savoring the anticipation that hung heavy in the air.

His body reclined in a posture of relaxed elegance, every line and angle exuding a controlled, effortless grace. The couch's cushions enveloped him, providing a luxurious contrast to the tension that coiled within him, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. His languid demeanor was a carefully crafted façade, a mask that concealed the razor-sharp focus of his mind.

Valentino's sharp eyes, dark and piercing, betrayed a predatory gleam as they flicked towards the door. He relished the power he held, the intricate dance of dominance and submission that played out in this private sanctuary.

He took a slow, deliberate sip of the wine, allowing its rich flavor to wash over his palate, heightening his senses further. The taste was exquisite, a blend of dark fruits and subtle spices that mirrored the complexity of his own desires.

As he awaited their entrance, his mind danced with possibilities. Each movement, each word, had been planned to perfection, a masterful choreography of control and surrender. The intoxicating allure of power, and the promise of what was to come all coalesced within him, feeding the predatory gleam in his eyes.

It didn't take long for Angel to make his entrance, the echo of his heels against the floor announcing his arrival. His disheveled hair bore witness to the intensity of his recent experience with the on-location filming. Valentino's eyes sparkled with anticipation as he greeted the spider, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face.

"I've prepared a soothing drink for you, Angel Cakes," Valentino purred, gesturing toward the table adorned with the deceptive glass of wine. Suspicion clouded Angel's gaze as he regarded the offering, a seasoned caution born from past experiences with spiked drinks. Despite his reservations, he yielded to curiosity and took a tentative sip, immediately detecting an elusive aftertaste that refused to be identified.

"Are we done for the day?" Angel inquired, carefully setting the glass down. He concealed his distrust, but Valentino's unwavering gaze hinted at impending consequences.

"Tell me, Angel," Valentino inquired, his tone a blend of mock innocence and subtle threat. He leaned forward slightly, the shadows of the room accentuating the predatory glint in his eyes. "What does Lucifer's daughter's hotel provide that I can't?"

His words hung in the air, dripping with a calculated malice that sent a shiver down Angel's spine. Valentino's eyes bore into Angel's, unwavering and intense, demanding an answer that would satisfy his twisted sense of superiority.

Angel hesitated, the weight of the question pressing heavily on his mind. He knew that any misstep in his response could provoke Valentino's wrath. Despite the fear gnawing at him, he squared his shoulders and met Valentino's gaze, a flicker of defiance sparking in his eyes.

"Maybe an actual family," Angel replied, his words hanging in the air like a challenge. His voice was steady, but his heart raced as he watched Valentino's reaction. The room seemed to grow colder, the tension tightening around them like an invisible noose. Angel's eyes remained locked on Valentino's, refusing to back down despite the palpable threat in the air.

Valentino's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something dark and unreadable passing through his eyes. He leaned forward, the air between them charged with a simmering tension. "Genuine connection?" he echoed, his tone mocking. "Acceptance? You're living in a fantasy, Angel Cakes. In Hell, power and survival are all that matter. Families are just a weakness, a liability."

"I never asked for fame, Val," Angel asserted, feeling a disorienting buzz as his thoughts began to cloud. He blinked, trying to focus, but the room seemed to waver around him. The elusive aftertaste from the wine lingered on his tongue, a subtle reminder of Valentino's manipulations. Angel's voice wavered but held a note of defiance. "I just wanted... something real."

"But you did ask for fame," Valentino insisted coyly, his words weaving into the fabric of Angel's consciousness. "You were barely scraping by on the streets when I found you. Drink up, Angel." Angel's hand shook slightly as he raised the glass to his lips, the rich aroma of the wine mingling with the potion's elusive scent. He took a couple of deliberate swallows leaving only one third of the glass filled, the liquid burning slightly as it slid down his throat. Valentino's words were like a venomous elixir, seeping into his mind and clouding his thoughts.

Valentino leaned closer, his voice a silken whisper that sent chills down Angel's spine. "The Princessa and her Hotel, this family you believe you have, will abandon you, just like your old friends, your previous lovers... even your own blood wants nothing to do with you." Angel's grip tightened around the glass, his knuckles turning white as the room began to spin. Valentino's words dug deeper, each syllable laced with a cruel truth that gnawed at Angel's fragile hope. The world seemed to tilt, the edges of his vision blurring as the potion took hold.

"I'm the only person who cares for you, the architect of everything you are today," Valentino continued, his tone shifting to a cold, possessive edge. His eyes bored into Angel's, filled with a dangerous intensity. "When this dream unravels, all that will remain is an empty building, and the family you thought you had will leave you with nothing. Go ahead, finish the drink." The command hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Angel hesitated, his mind a whirlwind of doubt and confusion. He could feel the aftertaste of the potion lingering on his tongue, a cruel reminder of Valentino's control. The warmth of the wine, which once felt comforting, now seemed like a binding chain.

Angel's mind raced, memories of his time at the hotel flashing before his eyes—moments of laughter, of genuine connection, of feeling seen and accepted for the first time in his life. But Valentino's voice was a relentless tide, eroding the foundations of those memories with every calculated word.

"Drink up, Angel," Valentino coaxed, his tone dripping with false affection. "Accept your place, your reality. This fantasy of family and redemption is just that—a fantasy. I'm the only one who truly knows you, who truly cares."

Angel's heart pounded in his chest, the weight of Valentino's manipulation pressing down on him. He wanted to believe in the hope that Charlie and the others had given him, but Valentino's grip was tightening, squeezing the life out of that fragile spark. With a trembling hand, he raised the glass once more, the liquid inside swirling ominously. His vision blurred further, the room becoming a hazy blend of shadows and light. Angel took a deep breath, the scent of the potion mingling with the oppressive air around him.

In that moment, a flicker of defiance sparked within him. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. He remembered the warmth of Charlie's smile, the fierce loyalty in Vaggie's eyes, the camaraderie he had felt with his new family. They had given him something real, something worth fighting for. As Valentino watched, his predatory gaze unyielding, Angel made a choice. He set the glass down, the soft clink of it against the table resonating through the room. "No," he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with a quiet strength. "I won't."

Valentino's eyes narrowed, the mask of coy amusement slipping to reveal a flash of anger. "What did you say?" he demanded, his voice a dangerous hiss.

Angel met his gaze, the haze in his mind clearing ever so slightly. "I said no, Val," he repeated, louder this time. "I won't let you control me anymore."

The air between them crackled with tension, the battle of wills reaching its climax. Angel's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination, but he knew that this was a stand he had to make. For himself, for the family he had found, and for the hope that still burned within him.

Rising unsteadily, Angel made his way toward the door, the world around him blurring. Each step felt heavy, as if the very air was working against him. Casting a final, troubled glance at Valentino, he could see a smug, self-satisfied grin on his employer's face.

"Tell the Princess I send my regards," Valentino commented cryptically, his voice a sinister echo lingering in the air. The words hung like a dark promise, filling Angel with a renewed sense of urgency as he stumbled out of the room, the chilling farewell haunting his thoughts.

Angel made his way down the dimly lit corridor, his legs unsteady beneath him. The effects of the potion weighed heavily on him, clouding his mind and making each step a struggle. He could still hear Valentino's mocking voice echoing in his ears, the words cutting through his thoughts like a blade.

As he reached the exit, Angel paused, leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath. The cool night air rushed in, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere he had just left behind. He took a moment to steady himself, drawing on the fragments of strength that remained within him.

The neon lights of Pentagram City flickered outside, casting an eerie glow on the empty streets. Angel stepped out into the night, the cool breeze washing over him like a balm. He knew he had to get back to the hotel, to the safety of his new family. They were his anchor, his hope, and the thought of them gave him the strength to keep moving.

Despite the fog in his mind, Angel navigated the streets with a determined resolve. The familiar sights and sounds of the city guided him, each step bringing him closer to the sanctuary he so desperately needed. As he walked, he replayed Valentino's words in his mind, the doubt and fear gnawing at him.

But for every cruel word, there was a memory of Charlie's kindness, Vaggie's fierce protectiveness, and the warmth of the hotel. They had shown him what it meant to be part of a family, to be accepted and loved for who he was. That was something he swore to himself thatValentino could never take away from him.

---

"How did I not see this?" Charlie exclaimed upon entering her office, with both Vaggie and Lucifer closely following. Her voice was a mixture of frustration and disbelief as she paced the room. "Why didn't I even suspect what was going on?" She paused, looking between Vaggie and her father, seeking answers or at least some form of reassurance in the midst of the chaos unraveling around her.

"Charlie," Vaggie sighed, stepping closer to her. "You know Angel doesn't like people to worry about him. Maybe he never said anything because he was afraid you would go out of your way to get him out of Valentino's clutches." Vaggie's tone was gentle but firm, trying to offer some comfort while acknowledging the difficult reality. "He didn't want to be a burden, even though he desperately needed help."

"That's just it, Vaggie," Charlie said, her voice tinged with frustration and sadness. "I think Angel was trying to tell me, but he couldn't do it directly. For instance, in the early stages of this hotel, Angel would make inappropriate comments, and I didn't catch on because I assumed that was his usual behavior." She ran a hand through her hair, her eyes filled with regret.

"Hun," Vaggie said, her voice calm yet firm. "Actively throwing himself at anything with male genitals is Angel's idea of normal, but that doesn't mean it is actually normal. So, what happened at the studio when you were there?"

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. "Well," Charlie began, her voice trembling slightly. "It's hard for me to explain, and I did mess things up for him unintentionally. I didn't mean to, but..." She trailed off, her eyes filling with remorse as she struggled to find the right words.

"Start at the beginning, sweetie," Lucifer suggested as he settled down in a chair at the desk.

Charlie took her place behind the desk, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes as she tried to hold back tears. She took a deep breath and began, her voice shaky. "It started when Angel first came to the hotel. He would make these comments, act out in ways that I thought were just him being, well, Angel." She paused, her fingers trembling as she lowered her hands and looked at her father and Vaggie.

"That day, we were having a show and tell," Charlie said, her voice trembling as she recalled the events. "It was Angel's turn, and he thought it would be a good idea to show one of his rather 'interesting' porn films. When Husk brought up the way Angel acts around people... Angel... he got rather upset. During the argument, Angel received a call from his boss asking him to come into the studio that day."

She paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "I got the impression something was off because there was this emotional change that just felt unusual. When he informed the rest of us that he needed to head out to the studio, I just got... I don't know. I guess I felt there was something toxic about the place or the Overlord he was working for, so I tried to convince him to stay. Of course, since this is Angel's job, he had to leave."

Charlie looked down, wringing her hands together. "I should have insisted he stay, or at least gone with him. But I didn't. I thought I was overreacting, that maybe I was just being paranoid."

"Uh huh," Lucifer responded, signaling his attention to the conversation. "So he went to work at the studio, then what?"

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts.

"Well," Charlie continued, taking a deep breath. "Vaggie suggested that since I was the Princess of Hell, I should assert my authority a bit more than I normally do." She glanced at Vaggie, who gave her an encouraging nod.

"Why didn't you?" Lucifer asked, his tone both probing and patient.

"Well," Charlie said uncomfortably, shifting slightly. "I know as Princess of Hell I do have the authority that comes with it. It's just that I want my subjects to follow me because they want to, not because I am an authority figure."

She looked down, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "I believe in redemption, in giving everyone a chance to change because they truly want to. Forcing them to follow me out of fear or obligation feels wrong. But I realize now that sometimes, being a leader means making tough decisions and standing up against those who abuse their power, even if it means asserting my authority more than I'd like."

"That can't always be helped," Lucifer admitted, his tone softer. "It's admirable that you want people to follow you by choice, but you generally have to show your power to get people's attention. Then show by example why you are worthy of respect. Unfortunately, there are some who will not understand anything unless their butts are handed to them on a silver platter. Those are the guys you have to prove that you are exactly what you say you are and all that implies."

He leaned forward slightly, meeting Charlie's eyes with a mix of pride and seriousness. "You have the heart and the vision, Charlie. But you also need to wield your power when necessary. It's not about ruling with an iron fist, but about showing that you won't tolerate anyone harming those you care about. Balance compassion with strength. Sometimes, you have to remind people why you're the Princess of Hell."

"I know that now," Charlie sighed. "But at that time, I thought it could be a simple talk, that all I would need to do is make some agreement where Angel could be involved at the studio without compromising his progress towards redemption. However, when I arrived at the studio, Angel saw me and tried to get me out of the room before his boss caught sight of me. Of course, I did meet Angel's boss, and things didn't really go well. And... I kinda set the studio... on fire, but it was completely an accident."

Charlie took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly. "Regardless, Val seemed to blame Angel for my being there because Val wanted to have a private talk with Angel in Angel's dressing room. When the two came out, Angel had a black eye I knew he didn't have before he went into that room, and Valentino threw Angel at the bed that was on the set. I just felt so angry that anyone would treat someone I cared about like that, I was ready to lash out at that damn moth man. Angel then stepped between me and Valentino and told me I should leave because my attempts to help were only making things worse." Charlie looked down, her hands fidgeting nervously.

"Oh, hun," Vaggie said sympathetically, stepping closer to Charlie and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I told you that I should have come with you."

Charlie nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know, Vaggie. I thought I could handle it on my own, that maybe I could make a difference without dragging anyone else into it."

"No offense, Jackie," Lucifer replied, looking at the former exorcist. Once again he didn't get the gray skinned females name right, but she declined in correcting him. "I don't think sticking an angelic steel spear in an Overlord's face would have done anything good, certainly nothing good for your friend."

He turned his gaze back to Charlie, his expression thoughtful. "Anyway, from what I've been hearing, this sort of thing has been occurring long before this hotel. So, with what you witnessed, I don't think that Valentino blamed Angel for you being at the studio. Guys like him are the sort of being who likes to have control over everything associated with him. You being there may have felt like you were a threat to the control he has over Angel, and the abuse you witnessed was just to reassert himself as the person in power."

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, a serious look in his eyes. "Valentino thrives on domination and fear. Your presence challenged that, and he reacted the way he always does—by asserting his dominance through violence. This isn't about what you did wrong, Charlie. It's about understanding the kind of monster Valentino is and finding a way to protect Angel from his influence."

"If you put it like that…" Charlie started to say, before Alastor materialized into the room. His ever-present smile resembled a cat that had just eaten a canary.

"Good evening, everyone," Alastor greeted with a cheerful lilt. "I couldn't help but overhear your little discussion. It sounds like quite the conundrum you're facing."

Charlie glanced at Alastor, her expression a mix of frustration and curiosity. "Alastor, this is a serious situation. We're trying to figure out how to help Angel without making things worse."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of making light of it, my dear," Alastor replied, his smile never wavering. "I am sorry to interrupt this conversation, but it seems that the spider has returned to the hotel looking rather inebriated."

"Where is he now?" Charlie asked urgently, rising from her seat.

"He's in the lobby, making quite the scene," Alastor replied, his smile never faltering. "I thought it best to inform you immediately."

Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer exchanged worried glances before quickly heading towards the lobby.

---

Angel stumbled through the heavy, ornate doors of the Hazbin Hotel, his usually confident stride replaced by unsteady steps that immediately drew the concerned gazes of Cherri and Husk. An air of distress surrounded him, evident in his weakened state and the unusual flush that tinted his usually pale face. Reacting on instinct, Husk emerged from behind the bar, his usual nonchalant demeanor replaced by a sense of urgency as he prepared for any unforeseen situation.

"Angie?" Cherri's voice was laced with worry as she employed her friend's nickname. In their friendship, she had seen Angel in various states, but never like this. Her eyes widened in alarm as she saw his condition. As Angel stumbled and began to fall forward, Husk moved with lightning speed, catching him before he could collapse in a heap on the floor.

"Stay with me, kid," Husk urged, his sharp claw delicately inspecting Angel's eyes for signs of coherence. "Definitely glassy… you don't look drunk, but…" Husk's voice trailed off, his brows furrowing with concern. "Come on, Angel, snap out of it," he muttered, giving Angel a gentle shake. "Whatever you're on, it's not helping. Let's get you somewhere safe, alright?"

Alastor, who had been lurking in the background, dematerialized into shadow and vanished without a word. The Radio Demon's sudden disappearance went unnoticed amidst the urgency of the situation; Husk's attention was entirely on the distressed spider. "What happened?"

"Val…" Angel struggled to choke out his words, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper. Each breath seemed challenging, as if iron bands were constricting his lungs while he battled to breathe through a thick layer of mucus. "Val… gave me… something." His eyes fluttered, and he clutched at Husk's arm, desperation and fear evident in his trembling grip. "Don't… don't let me… go back…"

"What the hell did that Moth do?!" Husk's emotions fluctuated between anger towards Valentino and concern about how long whatever substance was in Angel's system had been wreaking havoc. It looked like Angel was experiencing an overdose; there was no telling how long ago the spider had ingested whatever toxic substance it was. If it wasn't fully absorbed, perhaps there was still time to mitigate the damage. Husk's claws tightened around Angel, his voice a mix of urgency and fear. "We need to get you help, now. Hang in there, Angel. I'm not letting you go down like this."

"Don't talk now, bitch," Cherri intervened, her concern masked by her usual sharp tongue as she knelt beside her friend. She brushed his hair back but recoiled at the heat radiating from his skin. "Damn, you're hotter than a summer afternoon in the outback." Her eyes flickered with worry, though she kept her tone light. "We gotta cool you down and figure out what that bastard gave you. Husk, we need to move, like, now."

The elevator dinged open, and Charlie rushed out into the parlor, her worry evident on her face. Vaggie and Lucifer followed behind her, both looking equally concerned.

"Angel!" Charlie exclaimed, hurrying towards Husk, who cradled the distressed spider. "Is he okay? What happened?" Her eyes were wide with alarm, darting between Husk and Cherri. She knelt down, gently placing a hand on Angel's forehead. "He's burning up… We need to get him to a safe place and figure out what Valentino did to him. We can't lose him, not like this."

"He said Valentino gave him some sort of crap," Cherri explained tersely, her tone betraying her frustration and anger. She glanced at Charlie, her eyes blazing. "We need to act fast. Whatever it is, it's tearing him apart." She stood up, ready to move.

"Save the chatter for later, let's get him settled in his room," Husk instructed, his voice firm as he carefully lifted Angel into his arms. "Someone grab a salt shaker from behind the bar and an empty glass. We need to move, now."

"Why the salt?" Vaggie questioned, her brow furrowed with concern, as she swiftly gathered the requested items and followed Husk. Her mind raced with worry for their companion as Husk carried Angel towards the elevator to head to the second floor.

"It's an old trick," Husk replied, his voice strained with the effort of keeping calm. "Salt can sometimes help with purging toxins. It's not a cure, but it might buy us some time until we figure out what Valentino gave him." He glanced back at Vaggie, his eyes serious. "We can't waste a second. This might be a long shot, but if he can cough up any of this crap, he might actually stand a chance."

"Might?" Vaggie pressed, her concern palpable in her voice. She hurried to keep pace with Husk, clutching the salt shaker and glass tightly. "Are you sure this is safe? We can't afford any more risks with him."

"It's the best shot I've got right now," Husk admitted solemnly, his expression grim. "I've seen this method work with folks who've been at risk of alcohol poisoning. It's a way to purge the toxins before they fully take hold."

Once they arrived at Angel's bedroom, Husk carefully laid him down on the bed. Despite the warmth of the blankets, Angel still shivered with exhaustion. Husk quickly took the salt shaker and glass from Vaggie, pouring a small amount of salt into the glass.

"Angel, you need to drink this," Husk said gently but firmly, lifting Angel's head slightly. "It's going to taste awful, but it might help get whatever Valentino gave you out of your system."

"So… tired," Angel managed to mumble weakly, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a shaky breath.

"Don't go to sleep on me, kid," Husk urged, gently tapping Angel's cheek. "I know you're tired, but you can't sleep just yet. Here, this will taste terrible, but I need you to drink it," Husk instructed, propping Angel into a sitting position. Angel complied, grimacing at the taste but swallowing the salted water down nonetheless.

"That's it, keep going," Husk encouraged, his voice steady despite the worry in his eyes as he lay Angel back down. "You're doing good, Angel. Just hang in there a little longer."

"Uh, wasn't it supposed to do something?" Vaggie asked, her concern etched on her face.

"Patience," Husk replied calmly.

A retching noise followed, and Angel heaved into the wastebasket. Vaggie winced at the sound and smell before leaving the room, unable to bear witness to Angel's suffering. Husk sat on the bed, offering comfort as Angel endured the ordeal.

When only dry heaves remained, Angel huddled under the covers, utterly drained. Husk gently stroked his hair, his voice soft. "You did good, kid. Just rest now. We'll get through this together." He glanced at the door where Vaggie had exited, hoping she'd be back soon with some fresh air and a clear head.

"Please… let me fucking sleep," Angel slurred, his exhaustion evident in every syllable.

Husk sighed, his heart heavy with concern. "Alright, Angel," he said softly, smoothing the covers over him. "You can rest now. Just know we're here, okay? You're not alone." He stayed by Angel's side, watching over him as he finally drifted into a fitful sleep, ready to act at the slightest sign of trouble.

Angel closed his eyes, finally succumbing to slumber. Husk's shoulders and wings sagged with a mixture of relief and sorrow. Though demons couldn't officially die unless struck down by angelic steel or if their souls were torn apart, they could still fall into a death-like slumber. Husk had done what he could; now, the next part of the battle was up to Angel.

Husk glanced around the room, his eyes lingering on the worn-out spider. "Stay with us, kid," he whispered, a mixture of hope and helplessness in his voice. "You're tougher than this. You'll pull through." Picking up the vomit-filled wastebasket, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

As Husk exited the room, he found Vaggie leaning against the wall, her face pale with worry. "How is he?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"He's resting," Husk replied, his voice heavy. "We just have to wait and see now." He sighed, running a hand through his feathers. "Keep an eye on him. I'll be back soon. We need to be ready for anything."

Vaggie nodded, her eyes steely with determination. "We'll get through this," she said firmly. "We have to."

Husk gave her a brief nod, then made his way back downstairs, his mind racing with worry and anger. Valentino had gone too far this time. This battle was far from over, but Husk and the rest of the hotel were determined to see it through, no matter the cost.

---

Chucking the vomit-filled basket down the garbage chute, Husk turned to head back towards the elevators, making his way to the main floor. As he approached, he noticed the familiar figures of Charlie, Cherri, Lucifer, and Vaggie standing soberly at Angel's bedroom door. A peculiar sight caught his attention—a goat demon with a candle on their head, donned in a doctor's lab coat and hospital scrubs, diligently taking notes on the situation.

Cherri, leaning against the wall, exuded a mix of concern and readiness for what lay ahead. The recent loss of Sir Pentious still lingered, affecting them all. Despite her devil-may-care attitude, Cherri couldn't entirely mask the tension beneath the surface. The way Husk had seen Angel worried glances at her in past days hinted at his awareness that she was putting on a front. With how on edge she now seemed regarding Angel's condition, it was evident that she was ready for retribution.

"Will Angel be okay?" Charlie inquired as she noticed Husk approaching. Her voice carried a note of desperate hope, eyes wide with worry. The weight of the situation seemed to press down on her shoulders, making her appear smaller and more vulnerable than usual.

"He's sleeping," Husk sighed wearily. "Though, I don't know if that's a good thing." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, the exhaustion evident in his eyes. "He's been through a lot. We all have."

The candle-headed demon, still engrossed in note-taking, interjected, "According to your companions, Angel Dust showed up at the hotel looking as though he was suffering from an overdose." Their voice was clinical, devoid of emotion, as they continued to jot down observations in their notebook.

"Yes," Husk responded, his tone flat and tired. He glanced at the others, then back at the demon. "He was in bad shape when he got here. We've been doing what we can, but it's been... give or take."

"Any knowledge as to what he could be overdosing from?" the Sloth Ring demon inquired, looking up from their notes with a curious yet detached expression.

"No," Husk shook his head despondently. "He only said his employer gave him something. I did get his stomach pumped to help get whatever it was from infecting him. I think it may have been administered through a drink, like wine." He sighed, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on his shoulders. "We're still in the dark about what exactly he took."

"How can you be sure?" Vaggie asked, her brow furrowed with concern. Her eyes darted between Husk and the demon, her worry evident. "Do we even know if it was really a drink?"

"I got the whiff of some fruit along with alcohol when I was dumping the puke basket in the trash," Husk explained. "Whatever this was, it was done deliberately." He paused, the anger simmering just beneath his weary exterior. "Someone wanted to make sure Angel was out of commission."

"Husk," Charlie suggested, her voice tinged with urgency, "if this was done deliberately, what sort of drugs could have been hidden in a drink?" Her eyes searched his, seeking any clue that could lead them to understand and help Angel.

"The only thing that could come to mind with something like this," Husk said, rubbing his temples, "would be some sort of love potion that is being marketed."

Cherri's attention was immediately piqued, prompting her to pull out her phone. Her fingers moved swiftly over the screen as she searched for information. "I'll see if I can find anything about it," she muttered, her single eye narrowing in focus.

"Love potion…?" Lucifer asked, his tone incredulous. "But that doesn't make sense. Asmodeus markets anything related to Lust. He stands by trust and consent being active in any role regarding carnal pleasure." He crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as he tried to piece together the puzzle. "This doesn't fit his usual methods or standards."

"That night you had me follow Angel so he wouldn't get into any trouble," Husk explained, his voice heavy with frustration. "Well, I followed him to a bar frequented by loan sharks and other lowlifes. While there, one of the loan sharks who was buddying up to him went to get him a drink. That loan shark pulled out a flask that said 'love potion' on it and added some to the drink meant for the spider. After I interrupted and got Angel out of there, he revealed that he was aware they would pull shit like that because it's something that happens regularly."

Husk sighed, the weight of the revelation pressing down on him. "It's like these scumbags have no boundaries. And if they're using this stuff to control people, it's no wonder Angel got hit hard."

"Is this the shit you're talking about?" Cherri said, holding out her phone to show a crystal flask shaped like a stylized heart, with the words "Love Potion, by Velvette." Her cyclopic eye met Husk's, a mix of determination and anger burning in them. "Is this what they fucking used on Angie?"

"Yes," Husk confirmed, his expression grim. "That's the one." He glanced at Charlie and Lucifer, his eyes hardening with resolve.

"I had no idea this was even a thing," Charlie said, a mortified flush crossing her face. As much as she wanted to help her people, she never realized how little she honestly understood about the darker aspects of demon society. The realization weighed heavily on her, deepening her determination to make a difference. "We need to stop this."

"The bastard that Angie works for is marketing this shit," Cherri spat, showing the image of an advertisement where Velvette and Valentino were posed together. One of Valentino's arms was outstretched, holding a heart with a familiar heart-shaped flask. "So this could be what my best bitch was poisoned with." Her single eye blazed with fury as she looked at the others. "We need to take this dickhead down."

"I will need to take a blood sample to be sure," the Sloth Ring demon said, their voice calm and methodical. "And maybe acquire a vial of this 'Love Potion' to compare if this is the case. The hospitals in the Sloth Ring have received a number of patients with overdoses similar to this. Hellborn demons from other rings such as Envy, Wrath, and even some from Pride have been coming down to Sloth seeking assistance. A number of them have been really sick, and some have actually slipped into a coma as a result. They say they were using an aphrodisiac that has been marketed in the Pride Ring. If this is what is causing the problem, then we might have a way to cure it."

"The way I saw it used," Husk said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "The intent was the same as slipping someone a mickey. Lacing a drink with something intended to incapacitate. It's possible there may be aphrodisiac effects that go with it." The demon cat glanced towards the door of the spider's bedroom, sensing that even though the occupant appeared to be peacefully slumbering, Angel was likely fighting a lone battle against the effects of the poison he had been given. "Given that he's a drug user... I can't say anything about the other unfortunates and what would happen to them. We will have to bear in mind this could also be affected by any sort of shit Angel may have been taking, and we have withdrawal symptoms to consider."

"With... withdrawal?" Charlie asked, her voice trembling slightly. Her eyes widened with a mix of concern and confusion as she looked to Husk for answers.

"It's an effect of drug use," Husk said. "Your body gets used to the medication, alcohol, or whatever shit is taken. When there's no access to whatever the person is using, the reacts to the need for the drugs. I don't know when he last used, but the worst of it may be a few days, possibly a week before we see anything of concern. Even if he does wake up, he may still have some issues to monitor."

Husk's gaze hardened as he continued. "One thing I do know for sure is when Angel told Cherri and me that Valentino had given him something... he did attempt to say 'don't let me go back.' So he knows this shit that's going on... this time it's this. The next time... he might not return to the hotel at all." As he moved away from the gathered group, he took hold of Cherri's arm, his grip firm.

"Hey… let go of me, you drunk dickhead!" Cherri protested as she was dragged down the hall towards the elevators, her voice echoing faintly in the corridor. She struggled against his grip, glaring at Husk with a mix of anger and confusion.

---

Fat Nuggets looked up as Charlie entered Angel's dimly lit bedroom, the Sloth Ring Physician following close behind. The blonde girl briefly glanced at Angel's slumbering form, a worried furrow creasing her brow, before she gently picked up the miniature pig from where he remained close to his owner's side.

"Okay," the Candle-Headed demon said, their voice low and calm, as they rested two fingers beside Angel's neck, their brow furrowing with concern as they checked his vital signs. "Pulse is thready, burning up, and his breathing is shallow. If he wasn't a Sinner, I'd be asking you why he wasn't brought to a Sloth Ring Hospital like St. An's already."

"Is there anything you can do?" Charlie said, her voice laced with a mix of desperation and fear, as she soothingly stroked Fat Nuggets behind the ears.

"Can't say I get many Sinners as patients," the Baphomet demon admitted, their expression thoughtful as they observed Angel's still form. "The best advice I can give you is to let him sleep this off, however long that may be. Sinners may be resilient, but they still need rest and care."

Charlie nodded, her eyes full of worry as she continued to soothe Fat Nuggets, who snuggled closer to her. The candle-headed goat demon reached into their lab coat, pulling out a tourniquet. With practiced ease, they tied it around Angel's bicep, causing a faint discoloration as the vein became more prominent.

"Hold still," the doctor murmured, though Angel was too unconscious to respond. They tapped his arm gently, locating a good vein. With precision, they inserted a gauge needle into Angel's arm, the sharp point sliding in smoothly. Blood began to flow into the attached vials, the deep red liquid contrasting with Angel's pale skin.

Charlie watched anxiously as the vials filled. The physician's movements were swift and efficient, their demeanor calm and reassuring despite the unusual situation. Once the necessary amount of blood was collected, they carefully removed the needle and undid the tourniquet, pressing a piece of gauze to the puncture site to prevent any bleeding.

"I'll have the lab analyze this," the doctor said, capping the vials and placing them in a secure container. "We'll check for any abnormalities or infections and get back to you as soon as we have results. In the meantime, keep him comfortable and monitor his condition closely. If anything changes, don't hesitate to contact me."

Charlie managed a small, grateful smile. "Thank you. I appreciate everything you're doing for him."

The Baphomet demon nodded, their candle flickering slightly. "It's my honor to help Hell's royal family, even if my patient is a bit unconventional."

Once the Sloth Ring demon had taken their leave, Charlie carefully returned Fat Nuggets to the bed. The pig immediately trotted up to Angel and nosed the spider's cheek before settling into a protective ball at Angel's side. A loyal companion in this troubling moment, his small presence offered a comforting reassurance amidst the uncertainty.

Charlie herself sat down on the edge of Angel's bedside, her heart heavy with worry. One of her hands rested on one of Angel's limp ones, feeling the coolness of his skin. She didn't know what she expected from this, but her shoulders slumped when the only response was the continued sound of Angel's labored breathing. The room felt eerily quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old building and the soft hum of distant activity from the hotel.

As though sensing her owner's distress, Keekee traipsed into the open room and gracefully hopped into Charlie's lap. The blond-haired woman held the single-eyed cat close for comfort, feeling the soft fur against her cheek as she fought back tears. None of this felt right; Angel should be awake and ready to be… well, Angel. Behind the crass comments and sassy comebacks, there was a good person emerging—the person she felt was there the moment she first encountered him, a person she had only been starting to see for the first time. He shouldn't be here, locked in a slumber that he was fighting to return from an unknown fate.

Keekee calmly got off Charlie's lap and moved to the bed. Her single eye roved over the unconscious form of the spider critically. Sitting down beside Angel's sleeping face, she leaned her head down and sniffed. Her fur went rigid, and a growl along with an anxious yowl clearly suggested she had caught something that didn't seem right. The sound was sharp in the otherwise still room, making Charlie's heart skip a beat.

Leaping over Angel's prone body, the hellcat settled next to Fat Nuggets. The two pets glanced at one another as though conferring in a silent conversation. Fat Nuggets snorted softly, and Keekee's tail twitched with unease. It was as if they both understood the gravity of the situation, their animal instincts picking up on something that eluded their human companions.

Charlie watched them, her heart aching with a blend of hope and fear. She stroked Angel's hand gently, whispering a soft, fervent plea. "Please, Angel... come back to us. We need you." The words hung in the air, a fragile thread of hope in the midst of their shared uncertainty.

"Charlie," Vaggie said, her voice gentle yet firm. She was trying to be the calm one in this bad situation, but even she could see there was nothing further to be done here. "Let's just let him rest."

Charlie didn't protest as she got up. She briefly leaned over and brushed Angel's hair away from his face. A single tear fell unnoticed from her eyes as she let herself be guided out, and the room door closed behind them. The shed tear settled like a small bead of water on Angel's fuzzy cheek. Another tear also managed to squeeze itself from Angel's closed eyelid and collided with Charlie's before rolling down the side of Angel's face, a silent testament to the shared anguish of those who cared for him.

---

"Seriously, what the fuck?!" Cherri groused as she was tossed into the elevator. Husk said nothing as he entered and pressed the button for the hotel roof, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"You are too emotional right now," Husk commented, his tone calm but firm. "You want vengeance... I can't allow that."

"Who asked you, Old Man?!" Cherri fumed, her frustration evident in her voice. "Angie has been my best mate for years before any of you cunts met him. Now that fuckhead Valentino has done this to him. Give me one good reason I shouldn't go down to the studio and blow it up."

"Oh, I think Angel himself is a good reason," Husk said as the door opened, and he stepped out onto the roof. Cherri's single eye blinked in confusion as she also exited onto the roof. The two of them stood gazing out over the lights of Pentagram City.

"You obviously do care about him," Husk continued, his voice softer now. "Your methods may not always be the most supportive, but in the end, you do matter to one another."

"Well, yeah," Cherri said, her tone softening slightly. "He's my ride or die; we're there for each other no matter what happens."

"Then tell me," Husk said, turning to face her. "If things were reversed and you were the one in Angel's situation, would you be happy knowing he risked his existence to take out an Overlord like Valentino? As you've said, you've known him longer than I have. But I've also seen how capable he is in a battle, so why hasn't he taken Valentino out already?"

"Well, 'cause that dickhead owns Angie's soul," Cherri explained. "If Angie didn't have that holding him back, the bitch would waste that moth, no problem."

"You may be correct," Husk acknowledged. "At least partially; however, Overlords aren't something a regular sinner could take out on their own. Just because someone is an Overlord doesn't mean they are worthy of the title. Regardless, they still hold immense power. The more souls under their control, the more powerful they become. It seems to me that Angel knows taking on Valentino or any of the Vees by himself is a battle he can't win."

"So what," Cherri asked, her voice laced with frustration. "We just let that guy get away with doing what he wants, just 'cause he owns Angie's soul?"

"No," Husk said, his tone steady and measured. "I've seen people like the Vees in my time, both in life and after arriving in Hell. They believe that because of their status, they are untouchable, allowing their power and influence to go to their heads. In the end, their arrogance becomes their downfall."

"Seriously," Cherri demanded, her impatience evident. "We just wait? I don't care how powerful that fucking moth thinks he is; he's gonna answer to me!"

"What I saw just now is a girl who is letting her impulses get the better of her," Husk answered, his voice tinged with wisdom. "Everything that happened to Angel today is also the result of impulsive actions. In situations like this, it is better to watch things play out and find an opportunity, rather than recklessly lose everything and find yourself in a situation beyond your control. I know that from personal experience, and it's never good when you wager everything you have only to lose it all."

"We can't just let that jerk get away with what he's done!" Cherri said, her determination unwavering. "He hurt my best friend, and I'm not going to stand by and allow Valentino to see another day unscathed."

"No one is disputing you," Husk said as he sat down on the roofing tile, his gaze steady. "And no one is letting Valentino get away with what he's done. Everything that happened today… it wasn't intended to punish Angel; it was meant to punish Charlie. I don't know how things were before the hotel, but joining this place may have been the first thing Angel has ever done of his own will since selling his soul. For someone like Valentino, such decisions are seen as a threat, a loss of control, and eventually losing what he believes he owns."

"So Angie could break himself free from whatever deal he's involved in." Cherri inquired, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"I've never known that to happen," Husk said, his tone grave. "Though given what we witnessed at the club a couple of months ago, anything is possible. I will admit the kid has surprised me more than once, which is a real feat in itself. But I've seen a lot of folks come and go from this town, both sinners and Overlords, and when they fall, they fall hard. I've known that better than anyone."

"Alright," Cherri said, smirking with slight condescension. "And I suppose you know what being an Overlord is like."

"I told Angel this some months back, but yes, I was an Overlord… years ago," Husk responded, his gaze distant.

"Wait, seriously…" The punky bomber girl was taken aback. "You were one of the all-powerful Overlords of the city?"

"Yeah," Husk said, his voice tinged with reminiscence. "As an Overlord, I was a gambler. Bet my luck against the greatest poker players in Pride and got a reputation for being unbeatable. It got me a lot of recognition, but also unwanted attention. When you have power, you do feel a rush and the need to hold more of it. However, when you deal with souls… the stakes can be high, really high. If you lose sight of what you have to keep that winning rush… you end up losing everything and resort to doing things you never believed you'd have to sink to, to keep from losing yourself."

He paused, looking out over the city. "Valentino, well, all the Vees for that matter, are dangerous on their own and shouldn't be taken lightly. What makes them formidable is the fact they form a collective. They have no real loyalties to each other; still, if you take one, you have to expect to face the other two. And if you do try to take Valentino yourself, you may find that Angel isn't the only soul he has under contract or has erased."

Husk turned to Cherri, his gaze serious. "The stakes are always higher than you think, Cherri. Going after Valentino recklessly could mean losing everything and more. We need to be smart about this, for Angel's sake and our own."

Cherri listened intently, absorbing Husk's words. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on her, and she realized the complexity of dealing with someone like Valentino.

"So, what do we do?" Cherri asked, her voice quieter now, filled with a mix of uncertainty and determination.

"For now, we wait," Husk said, his gaze fixed on the city below.

Cherri nodded, understanding dawning in her single eye. She may have been ready to charge into battle before, but now she saw the wisdom in Husk's words.

"We'll get him," Cherri said, determination burning in her eyes. "We'll get Valentino for what he did to Angel."

Husk offered her a small, reassuring smile. "Together," he said, emphasizing the importance of unity in their quest for justice.

---

The Princessa and her Hotel, this family you believe you have will abandon you, just like your old friends, your previous lovers... even your own blood wants nothing to do with you.

Constantly make us look bad, sexually harass the staff, and have literally never once tried to improve?

What she means is, it's just nice to have someone interested for once.

YOU FUCKING SLUT!

Angel's body curled protectively in a fetal position, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as if trying to shield his very essence from the onslaught of despair. He found himself ensnared in a chilling symphony of haunting echoes, each reverberating with the sting of past wounds. These relentless voices seemed to cling to him like shadows, remnants from the soul-draining atmosphere of the porn studio where he had been trapped for too long.

The disloyal whispers of so-called friends echoed in his mind, their betrayals gnawing at his sense of trust. The cruel judgments of passersby on the street added their weight to the dissonant chorus, creating an oppressive soundtrack to his anguish. It was as if the very air thickened with an overwhelming darkness, a suffocating void that seemed to feed on his vulnerability.

Each derogatory word, each mocking laugh, carried an added weight, cutting through the fragile fabric of his emotional defenses with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. They weren't mere sounds to Angel; they were blades, slicing through his psyche and leaving wounds that bled into the abyss surrounding him. The emotional toll had become a labyrinth of suffering, where every turn led to another confrontation with his demons.

Amid this malevolent atmosphere, tears streamed down Angel's face, tracing the contours of despair etched upon his features. His once-bright eyes, now dimmed with sorrow, reflected the weight of a thousand judgments and criticisms that had been hurled at him. Every line of criticism, every syllable of condemnation, landed with the force of a sledgehammer on his already battered soul. The weight of judgment became a heavy, soul-crushing burden, threatening to reduce him to mere fragments in the vast expanse of his own emotional turmoil.

The memories of his time in the studio were a relentless replay of degradation and pain. Each degrading act, each moment of forced compliance, had left indelible scars on his spirit. The claustrophobic setting, the artificial lights, the mechanical commands—they all fused into a nightmarish loop that haunted his every waking moment. The trust he had once placed in people had been shattered, replaced by a pervasive sense of betrayal that tainted every interaction.

And yet, in the midst of this darkness, a glimmer of hope flickered faintly, a tiny beacon amidst the storm, urging him to hold on just a little longer. This fragile hope was a lifeline, a whisper of possibility that perhaps, someday, the echoes of the past would fade, and he could step into the light once more. The thought of finding genuine compassion and understanding, of reclaiming his sense of self, was the delicate thread that kept him from succumbing entirely to the void.

I don't know what you're talking about!…whore bug!

Don't get me started. I see right through you and all this bullshit and how fake you are.

You can sleep when you're double dead, fuckhead!

Look, you want to fuck up all your progress? Be my guest.

Pfft, WHATEVER, NERD, just catch up when you're done!

You forget who you're talking to? I own you, bitch.

Gross! I'd never think of it, spider!

Maybe I'd treat you better if you were real, and not some bullshit version of yourself, always pushin' my boundaries! Lemme tell ya, nobody in that hotel cares who you are.

"Just leave me alone," Angel softly whispered into the darkness, his voice barely audible amidst the cacophony of hateful words that encircled him like a relentless storm. The voices, relentless and unforgiving, formed an endless litany of verbal abuse, refusing to be silenced by his pleas for respite. The vortex of negativity swirled around him, suffocating him with its oppressive weight, as if each disparaging word carried its own gravitational pull.

With each passing moment, Angel felt himself shrinking, his body curling inward in a desperate attempt to shield himself from the onslaught of cruelty. His once-vibrant spirit now seemed to wither under the incessant barrage, his colorful persona dimming into the shadows of despair. He clung to the remnants of his strength, trying to find solace within, but even in the darkness, he found himself unable to escape the relentless grip of his tormentors.

Every insult, every mocking laugh, struck him with a force that reverberated through his very being, chipping away at the fragile armor he had built around his heart. The weight of their judgments, their cruel laughter, bore down on him like a crushing tidal wave, threatening to drown him in an ocean of self-loathing and fear.

Angel's whispered plea, "Just leave me alone," was a cry from the depths of his soul, a desperate call for mercy that went unanswered in the merciless void. The darkness, thick and suffocating, seemed to close in on him, and he wondered if there would ever be a reprieve from the pain.

You worthless…

You think you can change? Addict trash like you doesn't change.

Mhm, you see? What'd I tell you? Charlie, sinners are violent psychopaths, hell bent on causing as much pain and destruction as they can. There's really no point in trying.

---

"Who's ready for a stack of my famous pancakes?" Lucifer's cheerful voice filled the dining hall as he emerged from the kitchen. However, his smile faltered upon seeing the somber atmosphere at the long table. Typically lively interactions during meals were absent today, replaced by a palpable sense of melancholy. A customary place setting for Pentious remained untouched, a silent tribute to the departed soul.

This time, though, there were two vacant seats at the table. Charlie's gaze lingered on the empty space meant for Angel Dust, as if silently willing the Spider Demon to reappear by some miraculous intervention. Vaggie offered her support, her hand resting gently on Charlie's, though the pain in her eyes betrayed the recent loss.

Husk's demeanor hinted at a hidden fracture, evident in his distant gaze. Similarly, the usually exuberant female cyclops regarded the empty seat between her and the hotel's maid with an inscrutable expression. Unlike Charlie's hopeful longing, hers held a weight of accusation, as if Angel's absence were an unforgivable transgression.

"So..." Lucifer began, breaking the uneasy silence as he placed the platter of pancakes onto the table. "How did everyone sleep last night?"

Niffty, the maid, wasted no time in reaching for the platter of flapjacks, which Charlie promptly passed to her. Unaffected by the solemn air, she dove into her meal with enthusiasm. Grabbing a stack of five pancakes, she liberally smothered them in butter and strawberry jam. Her actions were animated, repeatedly stabbing her fork into the soft bread of the pancakes like she was stabbing a body. Almost as if she were reenacting a scene from a macabre play, she muttered about blood and delved into the recesses of her eccentric mind.

"I wish I could say I slept well," Charlie murmured, her voice tinged with weariness, her eyes scanning the rest of her companions with a heavy heart. The breakfast, though well-meaning, felt like a feeble attempt to restore a semblance of normalcy in their tumultuous lives. Cherri, her aura burning with a barely contained fury, was the only one at the table who didn't make any attempts to serve herself any pancakes or bacon.

"I haven't heard back from that Sloth Ring physician who showed," Charlie continued, frustration evident in the furrow of her brow. "Bel isn't the most dependable person, but..." She trailed off, her words hanging in the air like a question left unanswered, her concern palpable.

"We must exercise patience, Charlie," Vaggie interjected, her tone a soothing balm amidst the tension. "If she responded promptly to your request, there's hope she's prioritizing it." Her eyes met Charlie's, offering a silent promise of support and understanding.

"I reached out to Asmodeus last night," Lucifer interjected smoothly, his demeanor poised and composed. "He's fully aware of the love potion circulating in Hell and has promptly prohibited its use within the Lust Ring." He glanced around the table, his gaze steady and reassuring. "It's a small step, but it's progress. We'll get to the bottom of this and ensure it doesn't cause any more harm to our people."

"And what else did 'Uncle Ozzy' say?" Charlie inquired, a faint smile playing on her lips as she affectionately referred to the King of the Lust Ring. Her eyes held a glimmer of hope, eager for any piece of information that could bring them closer to resolving their current plight.

"He's informed Beelze about the love potion and urged concerted efforts to regulate its distribution," Lucifer explained, his gaze unwavering. "Additionally, Satan, Leviathan, and the Goetic kings have all been briefed." He leaned back slightly, allowing the weight of his words to settle. "It's a coordinated effort now. We're not alone in this."

"And Mammon?" Charlie pressed on, her curiosity piqued.

Lucifer sighed, a hint of frustration crossing his features. "Mammon is... less cooperative. His focus remains on his wealth and enterprises, so getting him to prioritize this issue is challenging. However, I've made it clear that this potion could disrupt the balance and affect his interests. That seemed to get his attention, at least for now."

"While he has been informed as a courtesy," Lucifer continued, a subtle disdain creeping into his voice as he spoke of the King of the Greed Ring. "Though it's likely he's already concocting his own version, anything to fill his pockets."

"Since it's distributed by Velvette," Husk pointed out with a sigh, "she's not going to be happy that her product is being flagged for misuse. At least we aren't going to be the ones she will be mad at, though the Vees are going to have a time trying to cover this up. That may end up getting the hotel dragged into things." He added as he took a swallow of coffee from his "Fuck Mondays" mug, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the implications. "We've got to be ready for whatever backlash comes our way."

"Then maybe we hit them where it hurts," Cherri suggested, her hand hitting the table angrily. "Have that Radio Demon send out a broadcast that says this roofies potion crap is dangerous and should be removed from shelves." Her eyes blazed with determination, the fire within her mirroring her fury. "If we can't rely on the other powers of Hell to take this seriously, we make them listen through fear of public backlash. Doesn't that Radio Demon Dickhead carry some weight around here? If he has the audiance it would cause an unrest nobody can ignore."

"Um…" Charlie started to say uneasily. While she agreed the Vees should face some sort of retribution for what happened, launching an attack over the radio wouldn't help anything. "I understand your anger, Cherri, but we need to be careful about how we approach this. If we go too far, it could escalate into something worse. We need a strategy that doesn't put us in the crossfire." She looked around the table, hoping to find a middle ground in their collective determination.

"What," Cherri demanded challengingly. "You know they did it, it's only fair we take it to them."

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to remain calm in the face of Cherri's fury. "I know, Cherri, but if we go about this the wrong way, we risk making things worse for everyone here. We need to be smart, not just reactive. Maybe we can find another way to expose the potion's dangers without directly provoking the Vees. Something that won't drag the hotel into a bigger mess." She looked at Cherri, hoping to convey the importance of a more calculated approach.

"Besides, we only know Valentino gave Angel something," Vaggie said firmly as she got to her feet in response to Cherri's hostility. While she understood the cyclopic female's desires, what the bomber girl wanted would only cause problems they couldn't afford to have. "We don't know for certain if this is a love potion or something else. We can't throw accusations without proof that they are the ones responsible for them." Vaggie's eyes locked onto Cherri's, her voice steady and unyielding. "We need to gather evidence first. Acting recklessly could backfire on us and make things even more complicated."

"Proof?!" Cherri snarled. "Angie is in a coma right now, what more proof do you need that these jerks need to get what's coming for them?"

Vaggie held her ground, her expression resolute. "I know, Cherri, I do. But if we act without solid proof, we'll just be playing into their hands. We need to be smart about this." She glanced at Charlie for support, hoping to convey the importance of a measured approach.

"Considering Valentino owns Angel's soul," Husk said, his tone gruff but measured, "attacking them wouldn't be the best move at this time." He took another swig from his coffee cup, his eyes narrowing as he considered the gravity of their situation. "We need to find a way to deal with this that doesn't put Angel in more danger. We can't afford to act recklessly, no matter how much we want to."

"Wait, owns his soul?!" Vaggie was surprised by this, glancing at Charlie, who also looked stunned, as if punched in the gut with something she had failed to consider. Vaggie felt herself sway on her feet. They had seen proof of this during the trial in Heaven. The smoke that Valentino used to form a chain around Angel's wrist when he had stood up to him.

"You forget who you're talking to? I own you, bitch," Valentino snarled viciously as he used the chain to pull Angel so they were face to face. The entire club went silent in shock at the unfolding display.

"Yeah, you do, in the studio," Angel defiantly shot back as he pulled against the smoky chain latched around his wrist. "And you can do anything you want to me there, just like our *deal* says. But out here, I get to do what I want. So once again, FUCK. OFF!" The Moth Overlord responded by backhanding Angel hard enough for blood to come out of his nostrils as he was sent crashing to the floor. The lecherous moth added further salt to the situation by promising to make sure Angel suffered for his actions at work.

During the trial, they had never stopped to consider or question this. In the moment, Charlie had been trying to keep herself from bouncing up and down in delight over the fact Angel had just proven that mortal sinners could at least show the potential of being worthy of redemption. If they had realized Angel was a prisoner, would it have changed Sera's opinion or would it have only been something Adam could refute as needless information?

Vaggie shook her head, trying to process the gravity of the revelation. "This changes everything," she whispered, glancing at Charlie, whose face was a mask of shock and regret.

"I don't know the exact terms of the contract he's under," Husk continued, his voice grim, "However, for soul deals… the wrong move could result in a soul being torn apart. This whole thing wasn't meant to punish Angel, oh no, it was meant to punish Charlie."

"Me?" Charlie balked, her voice trembling. "But I… I sent apology letters for nearly burning down the studio…" She looked around the table, her eyes wide with confusion and hurt.

"It isn't about your visit to the studio," Husk said, shaking his head. "It's about you inviting Angel to the hotel. Valentino sees this as a control issue. He owns Angel's soul through a deal of some sort. Trust me, I know from experience that you don't go against a soul deal unless you want your soul to be torn apart. However, it is possible there are some loopholes or oversights that enable the kid to have some autonomy. By inviting him to join this place, you are enabling him to have some freedom, so long as he continues to work at the studio as required. Since he has a place where Valentino has no access to him, particularly now that anyone who takes up residency here is under the protection of the royal family. This may be a hint that Valentino is at the point where he feels that if Angel doesn't belong to him, then he shouldn't belong to anyone."

Husk's eyes met Charlie's, a rare look of sympathy in his gaze. "We need to find those oversights are. There has to be a way to give Angel the freedom he deserves without putting him in more danger. It's a delicate balance, but it's the only way forward."

The dining chair Cherri was using audibly scooted back with a loud scrape before the bomber girl stood up. "I'm going to look in on Angie," she said, her voice dripping with scorn. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the dining hall, her footsteps echoing with determination.

"Should someone follow her?" Vaggie asked, her voice tinged with concern as she watched Cherri disappear from the dining hall.

"No," Charlie said, her tone a blend of mortification, sorrow, and shame. "Just let her go…it's…Angel's her best friend, she has the right to be upset. I agree Valentino needs to pay for what he has done, this is too far this time. Still, I don't want to make things worse than they already are and with this…with knowing his soul belongs to that Moth Man. That enables Valentino to do whatever he wants to Angel and anyone else he has under his power. I've been doing everything to try and help him and all I've done is fail. I've failed him when I went to the studio, I've failed him when I went to talk to Heaven, and I've failed him by not even considering something like this."

---

The rest of the day unfolded with a sluggish pace, shrouded in a heavy atmosphere of mourning. Conversations were few and far between, with a silence that seemed to seep into the very walls of the hotel. The usual hustle and bustle were replaced by a somber stillness, and even the vibrant hues of the hotel's decor appeared muted. Charlie frequently found herself drawn to Pentious's portrait, each glance filling her with a sense of dread at the thought of another lost soul's portrait adorning the walls. The weight of grief hung heavily in the air, pressing down on her shoulders with an almost tangible force. Yet, amidst the pervasive gloom, she persisted in her efforts to uplift the spirits of the other residents, clinging to the hope that Angel would soon awaken from his slumber.

Reflecting on Angel's arrival at the hotel months prior, Charlie recalled the skepticism he harbored and his tendencies that bordered on freeloading. Redemption training had been a secondary concern, overshadowed by the demands of his hectic work schedule. Often, he would return drained and weary, his energy depleted to the point where even sitting down for a simple meal felt like an arduous task before he retreated to the solace of his room. There were times when his absence stretched into days, marked only by a brief text message informing Charlie of his late-night shifts and his choice to bunk in his dressing room. The messages were always short and devoid of emotion, a stark reminder of the walls Angel kept around himself.

One particular evening, Charlie stumbled upon Angel nestled amidst the worn furnishings of the drafty parlor, a place ill-suited for rest in the decaying confines of the hotel. The parlor's faded elegance, with its peeling wallpaper and dusty drapes, contrasted sharply with Angel's usual glamorous persona. Despite her immediate impulse to rouse him and guide him to the safety of his own quarters, she hesitated. The sight of him, curled up and vulnerable, tugged at her heartstrings. Instead, she enlisted the assistance of her loyal bodyguards, Razzle and Dazzle, to provide him with a blanket, their draconic forms moving with silent efficiency. Once their task was complete, she sent them away, taking it upon herself to gently drape the blanket over Angel's slumbering form.

Watching him sleep, vulnerable and seemingly adrift in a sea of uncertainty, Charlie's heart swelled with an unexpected wave of sympathy. Despite the facade of toughness he often wore, in that moment, he seemed more like a lost child than the confident individual he projected to the world. His usually impeccable appearance was disheveled, and his face, even in sleep, was etched with lines of worry and exhaustion. It was a stark reminder of the toll his lifestyle and inner demons were taking on him.

Despite Vaggie's repeated warnings and adamant insistence that Angel was merely exploiting her kindness, Charlie remained resolute in her refusal to abandon him. Vaggie's arguments were always logical and well-founded, based on the numerous times Angel had taken advantage of their resources and hospitality. Yet, to Charlie, Angel only demonstrated that he needed more patience and understanding, not condemnation. She firmly believed that, given time, Angel would come to grasp the concept of redemption and choose to pursue it. She saw beyond his bravado to the wounded soul beneath, a soul that desperately needed healing.

In Charlie's eyes, Angel wasn't just a guest; he was a test case, a chance to prove that even the most seemingly irredeemable souls could find solace and transformation within the walls of her hotel. His presence symbolized hope, a beacon of possibility for those who had lost faith in their own potential for change. Each small step he took towards improvement, no matter how insignificant it seemed, was a victory in her eyes.

Although Charlie recognized that her leniency might diminish with the arrival of more guests, she couldn't ignore the flicker of hope that Angel's presence ignited within her. Despite his outward reluctance and guarded demeanor, she sensed a genuine longing within him—a desire to trust and be trusted, even if he struggled to articulate it. Charlie saw not just a lost soul in Angel, but someone who desperately needed guidance and acceptance to find his way back to the light. In her heart, she knew that the journey would be long and fraught with challenges, but she was determined to see it through, not just for Angel's sake, but for the future of the hotel and all the lost souls it sought to save.

Vaggie found herself caught in a whirlwind of emotions as she struggled to support Charlie amidst the turmoil they faced. While she desperately wanted to cling to Charlie's hopeful belief that Angel would awaken and restore the familiar rhythm of their lives, the uncertainties lurking in the shadows cast a heavy pall over her optimism. Angel, with his status as a sinner, possessed a resilience that defied conventional mortality; only the blow of an Angelic Steel weapon could puncture his invulnerability. Despite the absence of a sharp rise in temperature, the prolonged warmth emanating from his body and the strained rhythm of his breaths were distressing indicators of his precarious state. His coma was a battleground where his body waged a silent war, striving to knit together what was broken. Yet, the length of his unconsciousness remained a daunting enigma—could it be days, weeks, or even years before he stirred from his slumber?

Acknowledging the necessity of granting time its due course, Vaggie couldn't help but feel the crushing weight of reality pressing down upon her. The need to confront Charlie with the unvarnished truth loomed ever closer on the horizon. Indefinitely waiting for Angel's revival wasn't a luxury they could indulge in if they harbored ambitions of reforming sinners and reshaping the destiny of Hell. Despite the ache in her heart, she knew they had to press forward, regardless of Angel's condition.

It was a difficult path to tread, fraught with uncertainty and sacrifice. Vaggie often found herself torn between the fierce loyalty she felt for Charlie and the harsh pragmatism that the situation demanded. The hotel's mission—to provide redemption for the damned—required all their focus and resources. They couldn't afford to place all their hopes on one individual, no matter how dear. Each day, she watched as Charlie's eyes lingered on Angel's motionless form, her faith unwavering yet her strength visibly waning. The burden of leadership was heavy, and Vaggie knew that to truly support Charlie, she had to ensure they continued their work.

Perhaps in forging ahead, they could carve out a path towards a brighter future—one where Angel's awakening, whenever it may be, could herald a new dawn for them all. Vaggie envisioned a day when the hotel would be filled with success stories, a testament to their resilience and dedication. In her heart, she held on to the hope that their efforts would not be in vain, and that Angel would one day join them, fully awake and ready to embrace the possibility of redemption. Until then, she resolved to be the pillar Charlie needed, standing firm in the face of adversity and guiding them through the darkness towards the light of a new beginning.

Lucifer's heart was heavy as he observed his daughter's anguish amidst the turmoil unfolding around them. It was a stark reminder of his own neglect—the failure to truly comprehend the diverse array of individuals now residing in the hotel. The grumpy demon cat, who dutifully tended bar, possessed a hidden warmth that resonated with Lucifer, particularly in light of the challenges posed by the enigmatic Radio Demon.

The chaotic maid, diminutive yet perplexing, posed a unique puzzle. Was her behavior a deliberate facade or the genuine manifestation of an oblivious nature? Lucifer found himself grappling with this question as he attempted to navigate the complexities of her character. Conversely, the recent arrival of the second female cyclops brought a chaotic energy; her good intentions were occasionally obscured by a lack of finesse in her interactions.

Amongst them all, the Spider Demon remained an enigma to the Fallen Angel. Despite their minimal interactions, he could sense a genuine concern emanating from the arachnid, particularly towards Charlie's well-being. Charlie's deep connection with the spider, akin to a sibling bond, only served to deepen Lucifer's unease. The thought of Angel failing to awaken or, worse still, losing his soul entirely, was a profound dread. He knew that in such a tragic eventuality, Charlie's cherished dreams would crumble alongside him, leaving the Hellborn Princess's aspirations shattered in the wake of such a devastating loss.

Lucifer found himself deeply conflicted over whether to extend his angelic healing to alleviate the suffering of the Porn Star. Despite the urgency of the situation, he hesitated, fully aware that such intervention would only serve to ease the symptoms that allowed them to know Angel was still alive. While the fever and respiratory issues weighed heavily on everyone's mind, he knew that inducing a deeper state of unconsciousness to shield the individual from suffering could potentially lead to a dire consequence—the loss of their soul to the abyss of darkness that the Spider was trapped in.

The decision weighed heavily on Lucifer. He understood that any action he took could alter the delicate balance of hope and despair within the hotel. The hotel itself had become a sanctuary for the lost and damned, a place where redemption was a distant, yet ever-present possibility. To intervene in Angel's condition could mean the difference between his survival and utter damnation. Lucifer's mind raced with the possible outcomes, each scenario fraught with peril and uncertainty.

In the end, Lucifer chose to wait, to trust in the resilience of Angel's spirit and the strength of Charlie's hope. It was a gamble, a leap of faith that defied his more calculated nature. He watched over them, his heart heavy but resolute, ready to step in if the need became dire. For now, he would allow time to unfold its mysteries, hoping that within its passage, they would find the answers they so desperately sought.

Lucifer knew that this journey was not just about saving one soul but about the broader mission that Charlie had embarked upon. It was about proving that redemption was possible, even in the darkest corners of Hell. And so, he remained vigilant, a silent guardian in the background, supporting his daughter's vision while wrestling with his own fears and doubts. In the depths of his heart, he prayed that their collective strength and determination would be enough to overcome the trials that lay ahead.

Amidst the collective unease caused by the Spider's absence, Alastor stood out as the lone figure unperturbed by the situation. While he chose not to vocalize any thoughts on the matter, the Radio Demon's presence exuded an air of nonchalance that remained unshaken. His characteristic self-satisfied humming, a trademark expression of his demeanor, persisted whenever he was present, serving as a subtle indication of his overall indifference toward the recent events. Despite the mounting tension and anxiety among the residents, Alastor's unflappable demeanor and eerie calmness provided a stark contrast, making it clear that he was either unaffected by the chaos or simply amused by it.

"Tell me you were unaware!" Vaggie's voice sliced through the air, a challenge aimed squarely at the red-clad demon. Her remaining eye blazed with a mix of fury and desperation, demanding an explanation that she feared he would not provide.

"What exactly am I supposed to be unaware of, my dear?" Alastor's response dripped with feigned innocence, his smile never wavering as he tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Tell me you didn't know that Angel's soul was in the clutches of an Overlord," Vaggie pressed, her tone unyielding, her gaze piercing through Alastor as she waited for his response.

"Oh, that little detail?" Alastor waved it off casually, his smile widening. "One would think it rather obvious. After all, one doesn't typically work for the likes of the Vees without such a binding arrangement. I was merely waiting for the moment you'd catch on. Why spoil the unfolding drama with premature revelations?" His tone was light, almost playful, as if discussing a trivial matter rather than a soul's dire predicament.

"So you were aware?" Vaggie seethed, her voice trembling with anger. "And you chose to keep silent for the sake of drama?!" Her fists clenched at her sides, eyes burning with fury as she glared at Alastor, unable to comprehend his callousness.

"I never explicitly stated I was aware," Alastor countered smoothly, his smile unwavering. "But I did harbor suspicions. It seemed a logical conclusion, given the circumstances. And if a simpleton like Valentino is resorting to such extremes as what has befallen our arachnius-companion, it suggests either he acted rashly without full comprehension or he believes his deal with Angel can be brought to a conclusion." His tone was measured, almost casual, as if discussing the weather.

The conversation had drawn Charlie's attention, her expression composed but with a simmering intensity beneath the surface. She stepped closer, her eyes fixed on Alastor, ready to interject if necessary.

"At this conclusion," Vaggie said, her tone carrying a hint of concern as her brows furrowed slightly. "You're suggesting something serious." Her voice softened, but the intensity of her gaze remained, searching Alastor's eyes for any sign of deceit or manipulation.

"Perhaps..." Alastor replied, his voice trailing off as he contemplated the implications. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, the ever-present smile never leaving his face. "But then again, seriousness can be so... subjective, don't you think?"

"When it comes to soul deals," Husk interjected, his voice gravelly with experience. "Once you've traded your soul, you're bound by the terms of the deal in exchange for whatever benefit you sought. Ideally, when an Overlord terminates a deal, the soul is released. But in other instances, the Overlord may opt to destroy the soul they hold, condemning it to oblivion." His eyes, usually glazed with disinterest, were sharp and serious as he spoke, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

"So, all this is more or less a system of slavery and bartering among Overlords," Vaggie said with a disgusted scowl. "The more souls they possess, the greater their power. How typical." Her voice dripped with contempt, her disdain for the infernal hierarchy clear in her eyes as she glared at Alastor and Husk.

"That's one way to put it," Husk acknowledged with a grim nod. "However, not all Overlords are exclusively mortal sinners. The term 'Overlord' encompasses any demon with a status above ordinary sinners, including the Goetia, the Sins, and of course, Hell's royal family." He took a long swig from his flask, his eyes meeting Vaggie's with a resigned look. "It's a messed-up system, but it's the one we've got down here."

"Right," Lucifer interjected, his voice carrying a weight of authority as if he were stating the obvious. "Frederick and Bethesda Van Eldritch are Overlords, with influence spanning across the Envy Ring." His eyes flickered with a hint of disdain as he mentioned the names, underscoring the complex web of power and influence that defined Hell's hierarchy. "Their reach and control are significant, but it's important to remember that their power, like all, has its limits."

"Please, spare me the reminder of my ex-boyfriend's family," Charlie said, visibly mortified, a stressed blush creeping up her cheeks. "Anyway, it's safe to assume that Valentino won't release Angel's soul easily. Are there alternative methods for freeing a soul from an Overlord?" Her voice wavered slightly with the weight of her concern, her eyes scanning the faces around her, desperate for a solution.

"Well, theoretically," Alastor pondered, his grin widening slightly, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "The Overlord who made the deal would need to be eliminated... if that's the route you choose. Of course, there are always risks involved." His tone was casual, almost as if discussing a trivial matter, but the underlying implications were anything but.

"No!" Charlie exclaimed adamantly, her voice firm, her arms crossed in front of her. "Absolutely not. I won't resort to any form of killing, even if Valentino is the scum of Hell. There must be another way." Her eyes flashed with determination, and her stance was resolute, leaving no room for argument.

"It is indeed within the realm of possibility for an Overlord to barter or give away the souls within their possession," Alastor commented with a sardonic smirk dancing on his lips, his gaze shifting towards Husk, prompting an annoyed roll of the demon cat's eyes in response. "However, engaging in such transactions inevitably leads to a degradation of their status." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Valentino would need a very compelling reason to part with such a valuable asset."

"That's a possibility worth considering," Charlie mused thoughtfully. "Perhaps we could convince Valentino to release Angel..." Her eyes softened slightly with hope as she pondered the idea. "But we need to find something that he values enough to make the exchange worthwhile."

"Hmmm," Alastor gave a musing hum as though in thought. "I don't believe Angel would be all that amused to learn that the cyclopic girl he's friends with was given as a substitution. That is unless you yourself think you are the more valuable offer." His eyes gleamed with a wicked glint, the corners of his mouth curling into a sly grin as he watched Charlie's reaction, clearly enjoying the provocative nature of his suggestion.

Lucifer's eyes blazed at the notion of his daughter being subjected to such an existence, his protective instincts flaring up instantly. Vaggie also responded, her stance shifting as she prepared to object to the suggestion, her expression mirroring Lucifer's outrage.

"Oh, fuck no!" Charlie cringed, her face contorting with disgust. "I would never subject anyone to that sort of exploitation, and I absolutely won't turn to that myself." Her voice was firm, her stance unwavering as she glared at Alastor, making it clear that she wouldn't entertain such a suggestion.

"Didn't think you would go for that anyway," Alastor responded casually. "To be honest, I'm not particularly fond of those who enjoy the suffering of the fairer sex myself. However, I did need to offer that as a possibility. I hope you understand?"

"Did you though?" Both Vaggie and Lucifer asked in unison, their irritation clear that such an option even had to be put on the table.

"Valentino may not possess the sharpest wit among the Vees," Alastor remarked, pretending to ignore Vaggie and the King of Hell, a hint of amusement tingling his voice. "But he undeniably ranks highest in stubbornness and volatility. Persuading him to release Angel might prove challenging, particularly if it turns out this deal is by contract."

"A soul contract," Lucifer pondered, his expression thoughtful. "I've heard of such things occurring, but I've never seen it in practice." His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the implications, the weight of his authority adding gravity to his words.

"What's even more concerning is how Angel became entangled with Valentino in the first place," Vaggie observed, her brow furrowing in contemplation. "Despite his occasional lapses in judgment, he's not foolish. Wouldn't he have suspected something like this?" Her voice carried a mix of frustration and worry as she tried to piece together the circumstances that led to Angel's predicament.

"It's possible that Angel didn't willingly align himself with Valentino," Husk suggested, his tone contemplative. "Someone would have had to inform Valentino about Angel on the grounds that there was something to gain from Angel being under the moth's control." He paused a moment. "Angel might've been caught in a trap he may not have been prepared for."

"What leads you to that conclusion?" Vaggie inquired, her curiosity piqued. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied Husk, eager to understand his line of reasoning.

"The other day Cherri mentioned that Angel associates anything with his former human life on a 'less said the better' basis," Husk explained, his voice gruff but serious. "Have you ever wondered why?" He looked at Vaggie, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

"No, I just assumed it was a dark chapter from his past," Charlie admitted, her voice tinged with regret. "I never gave it much thought." She looked down, her expression a mix of guilt and concern. "Maybe I should have asked more, tried to understand better."

"I've been considering this for some time now," Husk continued, his tone more serious. "I didn't want to say anything cause I couldn't be sure. It is possible he might have been unable to disclose anything about his family even if he desired, 'cause it's possible he has ties to organized crime. I've crossed paths with various Mafia factions—Russian Bratva, Chinese Triad, Japanese Yakuza, Italian Cosa Nostra. These groups thrive on strict codes of secrecy, breaches of which are met with severe consequences. If Angel distanced himself from them, he likely severed any loyalty oaths but remains bound by an oath of silence." He looked around at the group, his expression grim. "If that's the case, his situation with Valentino might be even more complicated than we thought."

"Bad boys," Niffty giggled maniacally, her excitement palpable as she listened to the conversation unfold with keen interest. "So many bad boys out there!"

Vaggie raised the brow of her remaining eye skeptically. "That still doesn't explain how you know he could be connected to a mob family." Her tone was sharp, demanding clarity as she stared intently at Husk, waiting for a more concrete explanation.

Husk countered, a knowing glint in his eyes betraying his amusement. "While Angel can't outright divulge his background, he's rather adept at dropping subtle hints that could lead us to figure things out for ourselves. Remember that porn film he showcased a few months back? It kicked off with a mob interrogation scene." He leaned against the bar top, his eyes scanning the room. "Angel has a way of weaving bits of his past into his interactions with us, even if he's not saying it outright. That scene was a big clue, if you were paying attention."

"Yeah, you mentioned it was very bad," Charlie recalled, nodding in agreement. Her eyes widened slightly as she made the connection. "I remember thinking it was just part of the act, but now it makes sense. Angel's been trying to tell us in his own way."

"It was painfully bad," Husk confirmed with a nod of his own. "But despite claiming it was one of his 'better' works—and I'm using that term very loosely—he deliberately chose a film featuring a mob interrogation. It could have been his subtle way of hinting at his ties to a crime family. And the whole porn star persona might just be a facade, a cover to throw off suspicion. I mean, who would suspect a porn star to also be involved in the mafia, right?

I even have a hunch about which crime family he might belong to. Among the various mob groups I've encountered in this city, only one has manifested as spiders here in Hell. And let me tell you, they're notorious for their ruthlessness. If Angel is connected to them... Well, let's just say family reunions in any afterlife are best avoided." Husk's expression darkened, the weight of his words settling over the group like a heavy fog.

"Doesn't that imply Angel willingly entered into a contract with Valentino seeking protection from this crime family?" Vaggie pointed out, her voice tinged with concern and skepticism. She crossed her arms, her brows knitting together as she tried to piece together the implications of Husk's theory. "If that's true, it means he was desperate enough to trust Valentino, which only makes things more complicated."

"Maybe there is something that Valentino does or uses to get people to fall for him," Charlie elaborated. "For instance, when I first met Val…he ran his tongue…up my arm. Oh god, it was so…gross." Charlie shuddered at the memory, her disgust evident. Both Lucifer and Vaggie quietly seethed at this news, their eyes narrowing as though mentally trying to visualize Valentino burning alive for such an offensive act. Lucifer's fists clenched at his sides, his face a mask of controlled fury.

"Still, he seemed irritated that whatever he intended with that didn't work with me," Charlie continued, her voice trembling slightly but growing more resolute. "So maybe he gives off something that is like a drug or something to get people he wants to work for him to become more drawn in. It's possible that this… ability or substance affects the mind and makes it difficult for his targets to resist or even recognize what's happening to them."

She paused, looking around at the group, hoping they would understand the gravity of her words. "Think about it. If Valentino has some sort of charm or something that compels loyalty or addiction, it could explain why Angel—and others—ended up in his grasp. It's not just about fear or coercion, but a kind of manipulation that goes deeper, affecting their will and judgment."

"Well, that would be..." Alastor's smile didn't waver, but he sounded genuinely surprised. "If that's true, it would mean the effeminate fellow may have only been cognizant that he was signing something, but not fully aware of the implications. For deals to be legally binding, both parties must be fully conscious of the terms they're agreeing to. If he was under the influence of something, the contract would have been made under false pretenses. This is unprecedented." His eyes gleamed with a mixture of intrigue and amusement, clearly fascinated by the potential loophole in Valentino's tactics.

Charlie's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. "So there is a way to help Angel without resorting to violence or underhanded deals. We just need to find evidence that Valentino used some sort of influence on him."

"If it was indeed under false pretenses," Lucifer pondered aloud, his eyes narrowing in thought. "The soul deal would proceed as normal. However, if there are tangible alterations that can impact the contract, such as this hotel's influence, then the soul agreement could be compromised. If I could look at the terms of the contract itself, I might be able to identify parts or actions that could negate it. If this soul contract was created without Angel's full understanding, that would be something that will weaken it." He paused, his gaze intense as he continued, "Contracts in Hell are binding, but something as serious as a soul contract must be entered into with full awareness and consent. If Angel was under some sort of influence or manipulation, that would create a significant loophole. I would need to get my hands on that contract and examine it closely."

Charlie felt her phone buzz with an incoming text. Retrieving her phone from her pocket, she quickly checked the message. Her eyes widened as she read the contents, and she looked up, a mixture of hope and urgency in her expression. "I think that a confirmed possiblity." Charlie stated firmly. Though her expression remained composed, her eyes blazed with determination. "The substance Angel was poisoned with is actually moth pheromones." Her voice was steady, the weight of this revelation clear in her tone. "This means Valentino has been using his own pheromones to manipulate Angel and likely others as well," she continued. "We have concrete evidence that Angel was not fully aware or consenting when he made that deal. This gives us a significant advantage in challenging the contract and freeing Angel from Valentino's control."