Vox sat at the edge of his tank, cooling his feet in the water to try and calm down, his electric sharks circling in the tank below him. He needed to do something. He couldn't let Alastor win, and he couldn't let the Ambassador slip away. He could send her gifts, but he'd already given her the shawl too recently. He could do more charity work, but the soup kitchen was already a huge hassle. He could temporarily move into that stupid hotel, but Alastor would probably stab him in his sleep. He could have Val and Vel help him kill Alastor, but he'd just publicly announced that Elida was officially his girlfriend, so that would only make an enemy of her.

Alastor just made himself untouchable.

"FUCK," Vox shouted to the empty room for the sixth time in a row. A pulse of lightning shot out of him and blasted harmlessly at the wall.

He thought about the mysterious green potion he'd found in his pocket after the last meeting at Carmilla's. It used the same type of vial that Elida sold in her shops. It had her logo. It was stoppered with her trademark seal. It was definitely one of hers; but he couldn't remember how it got there. Had he put it in his pocket and forgotten about it? Did she sneak it in there just to see what he'd do?

Maybe it was a witch thing? Or an angel thing? Or a woman thing? Or just a good old fashioned crazy-person thing? He wondered if it was some kind of test. Elida did weird things sometimes, and he wouldn't put it past her to try something like this just to see how much he trusted her. After all, every single one of the potions she made were harmless; helpful even.

That had to be it. She was waiting for him to prove he trusted her enough to drink it. Showing that trust and drinking it could be a great way to manipulate her into thinking he gave a shit. That he was her friend. That she could trust him back.

He'd kept it on his person, just in case it was important. Pulling the vial from his pocket, Vox examined it carefully. The strange green liquid swirled and bubbled as if it were still boiling in the cauldron. The label read, "Recipe No. 23w9i20t3c8h3c18r1a6f20t-1a14n4d-12l9i26z1a18r4d18r25y," which in data terms seemed like a unique ID number. There was no plain name like the potions she sold in her shops. It could be anything.

Would Alastor drink it? Had she given him this same test? Did he pass? Did it matter?

Fuck it.

Vox unstopped the vial and threw it back like a shot, swallowing it in one gulp. It burned going down and tasted like shit, as if he were eating a bunch of liquified bugs. It was the worst potion he'd ever tried. He wretched, his body desperately trying to throw the liquid up, but it refused, soaking into his bloodstream faster than anything reasonably should.

"Oh God," Vox hunched over in pain, clutching the aquarium ledge, "What the fuck!"

None of her other potions had had this effect before. They were always pleasant and flavorful. But this… this was a whole new kind of Hell. His body began to contort unnaturally, limbs cracking and twisting in ways they were not meant to twist. A sickening squishy sound filled the air as his flesh moved around. It felt so wrong.

Was the room getting bigger?

Vox realized he was shrinking, his shape changing to something it shouldn't be. His screen bulged and cracked and warped until it resembled a whole different kind of face. He nearly fell into the shark tank. He'd been in Hell a long time, but this was a pain he'd never thought possible. He tried to cry out, only to hear a pathetic animalistic squeak.

When his bones stopped twisting and his muscles stopped writhing, the pain finally subsided. But Vox had a whole new problem. He found himself struggling to grasp the ledge of his shark tank, tiny, stubby toes barely holding on. He kicked and wiggled, attempting to hoist himself over the edge, but he didn't have the strength. He hung there, confused and terrified. Looking down into the water below him, he saw the reflection of a slimy green creature staring back at him.

That crazy bitch had turned him into a fucking newt!

He wriggled again, trying to pull himself up and out of the shark tank. But he wasn't used to this body, so he just ended up falling in. The water splashed with a kerplunk sound, and Vox got pulled deeper in with the current caused by the tank filter. He flailed his limbs, trying to regain control of the situation. Luckily, it wasn't too tough to swim. He had a tail. While it felt super weird, it propelled him easily through the water.

He forced himself to calm down. Okay. He was a newt. So what? He'd get out of the tank and figure it out from there. Getting his bearings, he looked around to find an easier place to crawl out. There weren't any good options; the walls were sleek, and it wasn't made for small animals to be able to escape; that would've made it too easy for them to get away from-

Oh. Oh no. The sharks. Vox started to panic. He needed to get out, and he needed to get out fast. He looked frantically around, trying to find his pets. He saw one of them circling calmly at the bottom of the tank. The other was headed straight for him.

Vox swam. He swam hard. He swam like his life depended on it, because it did. The shark was gaining on him, mouth open and ready for a snack. Vox was too small. His shark caught up easily, trying to chomp down.

Vox dodged, darting to the side. It was his only hope. The shark missed, darting past before turning back around to try again. On instinct, Vox tried to shoot a bolt of electricity at it, but it did nothing. This was an electric shark; it didn't care about a little lightning. Vox was defenseless.

The shark returned and Vox dodged again, and again, and again, for hours until eventually he was too tired to carry on. There was no way out. He would either drown or be eaten. Chest burning, limbs limp, and terror spent, Vox turned to face his death. It wasn't the first time he'd been sent to the regeneration zone, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. As his own pet shark swam toward him, Vox only had one thought before the world went black; As soon as he returned he was going to beat that icy witch with a crowbar and fuck her in the ass.

While Vox had his little adventure, Elida went to visit Velvette for a fashion show. Alastor dropped her off, not welcome in the building. But she would be alright. He'd watch for the angel assassin from the outside and wait nearby in case she needed him. As protective as he was of her, Alastor had to admit that she wasn't helpless, and the Vees had every reason to need Elida alive. He gave her one last goodbye kiss before fading into shadow. He could terrorize a few nearby demons while he waited.

Elida wished Alastor could come with her, but she understood his rivalry with Vox was complicated. Instead, she tucked her new wand safely into her pocket and walked through the doors.

A bored receptionist sat chewing gum and scrolling on their phone. Without looking up, they asked, "Do you have an appointment?" They chewed with their mouth open.

"Yes," Elida said in her sweet angel's voice, "I'm here to meet Velvette."

The receptionist sighed and put their phone down, typing something into their computer. "Name?"

"Elida McCarthy."

They looked up, interest piqued. "Hell's Sweetheart?"

"Oh, you know me?" Elida politely pretended to be surprised.

The receptionist sighed again, "Fine. Right this way." They stood up and grabbed a lanyard from their desk. "Here's your clearance badge. You'll need it if you need to take a shit. The bathrooms are for higher-ups and special guests only; everyone else gets to go fuck themselves," the receptionist sounded pretty bitter about that. Elida didn't blame them.

"Goodness, I'd never treat my employees like that," she said incredulously, "I can't imagine having that little empathy."

The receptionist scoffed, "Yeah, well, welcome to Hell."

"Shakespie is a demon too, and he doesn't treat our people like that," Elida pointed out. "He makes sure everyone has clean facilities, access to food, and a place to sleep if they need it."

"I doubt that, but sure, go off."

"No, really. I wouldn't let him run my company if he didn't make sure they all got fair pay and healthy work hours."

"Oh? Maybe I should apply," the receptionist thought aloud, chewing loudly. "It might be nice not have to sleep behind a dumpster."

"Send me your resume," Elida offered, "I can make sure it's looked at."

Elida liked working with Ben. He was honest, kind, and ethical. If he could stop eating people, she was sure he'd be redeemed pretty much immediately. She wished her addiction treatments worked for him, but it turned out that cannibalism was too different from drugs or alcohol for the potion to translate. She'd tried to tweak the recipe, but it just wasn't quite right yet.

The science and psychology behind cannibalism was complicated, making it hard to pin down any one thing that caused the urge. She couldn't just make a plain craving cure, because that could affect other aspects of someone's appetite and accidentally give them an eating disorder. That would be a disaster. Poor Shakespie claimed that he was alright, but Elida could still see the sadness in his eyes whenever the topic came up. He wanted the cravings to stop.

The receptionist led Elida to an elevator. "27th floor," they said, "Some other asshole will help you when you get up there."

"Thanks," Elida said politely, pushing the 27th button. A screen prompted her to scan her clearance badge. She did so, and the elevator doors closed.

She examined her reflection in the elevator mirror. She smiled, checking herself out and admiring the way her designer shawl fell across her shoulders. Elida really loved herself. She'd chosen an especially flattering dress that day, not that it was hard. She looked amazing in everything. Or nothing. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. It was good to be an angel.

The doors opened to reveal a lively hallway filled with glamorous people all waiting in line to be allowed into a showroom. The sound of chatter filled her ears as she stepped confidently out of the elevator, wings trailing softly behind her. The lanyard would ruin her look, so she put it in her pocket and searched around for someone that looked like they worked there. She found a small and anxious-looking fish-boy tapping at a tablet.

She walked up to him, "Pardon me. Coddle, is it?" she used her most disarming voice. The poor thing looked ready to snap.

Coddle looked up and saw her, eyes widening, "How did you know that?"

"I'm a witch," she said sweetly, not having the heart to remind him that he was wearing a nametag.

"Ambassador?" he asked, looking her over.

"Yes," she confirmed, "Would you kindly direct me to wherever it is I'm meant to be? Is it that line there?" She pointed to the glamorous people waiting for the doors to open.

"Oh, goodness no!" Coddle said, "That's for the audience. Right this way, ma'am."

"I'm not part of the audience?" Elida asked, a little confused.

"Overlord Velvette says you're to be taken straight to her," Coddle explained. "She's been waiting for you."

Elida shrugged and followed him through a door labeled, "Fuck Off."

For the sake of the poor little guy's sanity, Elida cast a quiet spell of a peaceful mind on Coddle while his back was turned. There were still bags under his eyes, but the tension in his shoulders eased a bit, and his posture adjusted to a calmer and more relaxed position. She didn't know what abuses this boy suffered under his employers, but Elida could take some of the pain away for at least a little bit.

Elida heard Velvette snapping commands at her models, demanding they "Get over here," and "Suck it up you whiny bitch."

They entered the model dressing room. "Miss Velvette, the Ambassador is here," Coddle called to her. His voice was less panicked and more confident now.

"About fucking time," Velvette said, appearing from behind a curtain. As she pulled the curtain aside, a naked model attempting to squeeze into a too-tight pair of leggings squealed in embarrassment and fell on her face.

"Oh dear," Elida said, brushing gracefully past Velvette and helping the humiliated model stand up. "Here, sweetie," she soothed, covering her decency with her wings. "There now, it's alright." She helped her pull the leggings up and get her feet back under her. "You look great!" she complimented.

Velvette rolled her eyes. "I hope you're washed and ready," she said to Elida, "Because we've still got to make sure your dress fits. Come on," she grabbed Elida's arm and dragged her off. Elida was surprisingly light and floaty.

Elida raised an eyebrow, but didn't protest, allowing Velvette to pull her toward another changing curtain. Inside it hung a silky white dress with similar sapphire beads as Elida's shawl. It was spectacular. "Ohhh," Elida cooed, examining the jewels, "You've got a great eye for shaping!"

"Of course I do, don't be stupid," Vel said, closing the curtain and pulling at Elida's shawl, "You're going to be my grand finale today, so you'd better not fuck it up."

"I don't recall agreeing to that," Elida said, but shrugged off the shawl anyway, deciding to roll with it.

Velvette snapped her fingers and Elida's dress fell to the floor. She looked her over, examining Elida's measurements in her head. It looked like her design should fit, but she'd need to take in the shoulders and shorten the hem. She'd need a new hairstyle, too. Some kind of updo that would show off her clavicle.

Vel couldn't blame Alastor for wanting to fuck this bitch. She was the perfect visage of a virgin fantasy; flawless and silky. It was a whole different look from the demons she was used to working with and would be a nice showstopping end for the runway. She snapped her fingers again and the white dress blinked away from the hanger, appearing instead on the Ambassador.

"That'll do it," Velvette declared, "Come on. I've got to get your ass ready before the show starts."

"Will I get to watch it, or am I waiting back here?" Elida asked.

"You can watch from the wings once you're done," Vel said, opening the curtain and settling Elida on a tailor's stool. "Trevin, get your ass over here and fix this shit. I want her sparkling from head to toe or I'll feed you to the sharks!"

While overworked and underappreciated Trevin hemmed Elida's dress, Velvette went to check on the rest of the preparations. The show began, demon after demon strutting down the runway in Velvette's latest designs. Lights flashed, attendees clapped, and models tried not to have mental breakdowns in front of the crowd as each piece was showcased one by one.

Elida watched closely at how Velvette interacted with people. She was mean. Very mean. She treated her employees like garbage, and Elida didn't like it. But at least she was open with her cruelty. Vox was more insidious. He hid his true nature under smiles, empty gestures, and flowery words.

Elida had been more and more disappointed with each psychological report she'd received from his video gameplay analytics. The meetings she'd been having with him weren't making any progress. He'd said he wanted to change, and he wasn't changing. Their relationship had grown friendlier, and that was politically beneficial, but at his core Vox remained the same as the first day she'd met him. She didn't want to give up on him, but he clearly didn't actually care about improving.

At one point, the person she'd hired to analyze Vox's psyche through the in-game choices he made had sent her an email begging her to stay far away from him. He was evil. Very evil. He showed signs of a serious personality disorder and calculating manipulation tactics. He was smart, and cruel, and violent; but not in the same way Alastor was. Alastor had a secret moral code. Vox seemed to have none.

All these things ran through her mind while she watched the models bustle about, fear in their eyes whenever Velvette walked by. The Vees caused a lot of pain. Elida wondered if there was a way to stop the damage they caused to the people around them.

Hair up, dress altered, and refusing to mar her perfect face with any kind of makeup, soon it came to be Elida's turn. Little Coddle approached her, a comfortable smile on his face and a stylus tapping away at his tablet.

"Wow, miss, you look incredible," he complimented. "Come with me, please."

She followed him and listened while he gave her some last-minute instructions, "Spread those wings out behind you, walk slowly, and don't forget to smile! If you could glow bright enough to see it under the lights, that would be great. Try not to blind anyone though."

"I can do that," Elida agreed, smiling to herself. She hadn't counted on being in the show, but it would be a fun little experience to remember.

She followed Coddle's instructions, mimicking the way she saw the other models walk. The audience gasped as she entered the runway. A show host introduced her and told everyone about the pieces she wore, making sure to mention how generous Velvette was in gifting Elida her shawl.

As Elida reached the edge of the stage, posing dramatically for the photographers, the lights began to flicker ominously.