Angel Dust is struggling to handle his nightmares. So what does he do, has a little "chat" with a certain feline bartender who unfortunately has a master who is a real glutton for entertainment. There also seems to be trouble in paradise for the V's.
Chains (Are Meant to be Broken): What lurks in the dark
Angel Dust ran through the corridors of the Porn Studio, his breath ragged and heart pounding in his chest. Shadows flickered around him, twisting into grotesque shapes that seemed to reach out for him with spectral hands. His footsteps echoed ominously in the empty halls, the sound amplifying his terror.
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes wide with fear, but there was nothing but darkness chasing him—a darkness that seemed to seep from the very walls themselves. It whispered his name in a haunting, seductive voice that sent shivers down his spine.
"Angel Cakes, where are you going? You can't hide from me."
Valentino's voice echoed through the corridors, bouncing off the walls and sending Angel into a panic. He quickened his pace, turning corners blindly, hoping to lose his pursuer in the labyrinth. But everywhere he turned, the darkness followed, closing in on him like a suffocating cloak.
His thoughts raced, memories of the studio and the relentless control Valentino exerted over him flooding his mind. The fear of being caught, of being dragged back into that life of torment and degradation, fueled his desperate flight.
Suddenly, a door loomed ahead—a faint glimmer of hope in the oppressive darkness. Angel sprinted towards it, his heart hammering against his ribs. With a final burst of adrenaline-fueled effort, he reached the door and flung it open, stumbling into a dimly lit room beyond. He slammed the door shut behind him, leaning against it as he gasped for air, chest heaving. The room was eerily silent, the only sound the frantic beat of his own heart. But he knew he couldn't stay here. Valentino was still out there, searching, hunting.
Angel's eyes darted around the room, searching for another way out. His hands trembled as he tried to steady his nerves. The faint scent of smoke and cologne lingered in the air—a cruel reminder of the presence that haunted him.
A sudden creak behind him made him whirl around, dread knotting in his stomach. The door he had entered through began to slowly open, revealing nothing but darkness beyond. A cold breeze swept through the room, carrying with it a whispered promise of captivity and anguish.
"No… not again," Angel muttered, his voice barely a whisper. He staggered backward, tripping over a discarded chair and falling to the floor. Panic surged through him as he scrambled to his feet, searching desperately for another escape route.
But the room seemed to shrink around him, walls closing in with suffocating pressure. Shadows danced mockingly on the walls, taking on sinister forms that seemed to leer at him with malicious intent.
"Angel, my sweet little spider," Valentino's voice echoed from beyond the door, sending a chill down Angel's spine. "You can't run forever. Come back to me, and I promise I'll make it worth your while."
Tears welled up in Angel's eyes as he backed away from the door, his entire body trembling with fear and revulsion. He had to find a way out, had to escape the grasp of the one who held him captive in both body and soul.
And then, in the dim recesses of the room, Angel's frantic gaze fell upon a grotesque sight that froze his heart in horror. Charlie, usually vibrant and full of life, was now bound by chains to a throne-like chair. The chains themselves were twisted tendrils of smoky darkness, shimmering with a malevolent crimson hue, their ends adorned with jagged barbs that dug into Charlie's skin.
Her hair was disheveled, clothes torn, and her face bore the bruises of cruel mistreatment. Yet, despite the visible marks of abuse, her eyes held a glimmer of defiance, a silent plea for Angel to save her from this torment.
"Charlie!" Angel gasped, his voice filled with anguish and rage. He rushed forward, but his steps faltered as a cold, mocking chuckle echoed through the room from the shadows.
"Well, well, well… if it isn't my little runaway whore," Valentino's voice slithered through the darkness, his form emerging slowly like a malevolent phantom. Adorned in luxurious attire that contrasted sharply with his sadistic gaze, Valentino approached with deliberate slowness.
Angel clenched his fists, his whole body trembling with fury and fear. "Let her go, Valentino! She has nothing to do with this!" he demanded, his voice thick with suppressed rage.
Valentino's smile widened, a cruel gleam in his eyes as he stopped just inches away from Angel. He leaned in close, his breath cold against Angel's ear as he whispered, "Oh, but she does, my dear spider. She's your weakness, your Achilles' heel. And now, she's mine too."
Angel recoiled, his heart pounding in his chest as the full weight of Valentino's words sank in. He reached out towards Charlie, desperate to free her from the chains that bound her. But before he could touch her, she dissolved into thin air, leaving only the echo of her desperate cries echoing in Angel's ears.
"NO! Charlie, no!" Angel cried out, his voice filled with despair and anguish. He stumbled back, his whole body shaking with a mixture of fury and helplessness. Valentino's cruel laughter filled the chamber, the sound reverberating off the walls like a sinister symphony.
"You see, Angel Cakes,"Valentino taunted, his voice dripping with malice, "you can't save her. You can't save yourself. You belong to me, body and soul."
Tears streamed down Angel's face as he struggled to maintain his composure. The walls of the room seemed to close in around him, shadows dancing mockingly at the edges of his vision. He felt trapped, ensnared in Valentino's twisted game with no way out.
As Valentino's presence loomed closer, Angel's fear peaked. The air grew thick with dread, suffocating him as Valentino leaned in, his face twisted into a sadistic grin. "Remember, Angel Dust," Valentino whispered, his voice laced with menace, "YOU'RE MINE. AND I ALWAYS GET WHAT'S MINE!"
With a gut-wrenching scream, Angel's world plunged into darkness once more, engulfing him in a void of terror and uncertainty. His cries echoed unanswered in the empty abyss, his hopes shattered against the unyielding dominance of Valentino's cruel hold.
Angel Dust's eyes snapped open as he awoke, and sprang forth from the bed, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The remnants of the nightmare clung to him like a suffocating shroud, the echoes of Valentino's taunts still ringing in his ears. He blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the lingering darkness that seemed to seep into the edges of his vision.
For a moment, he lay there, trembling, his heart racing as if still fleeing through those labyrinthine corridors. The dimly lit room of the Hazbin Hotel surrounded him, reassuringly familiar yet strangely foreboding in the aftermath of his dream. He could almost feel the chill of Valentino's presence lingering in the air, a phantom touch that made his skin crawl.
He looked over to his alarm clock and saw it was around four O'clock in the morning, "Fuck…" saying that, he gently got out of bed, making sure not to wake up his demon pig. He put on his pink robe, and left his room. He stood by his door, taking in as much air as he needed to, his hand combed through his slightly damp hair as he tried desperately to ease his mind.
It was a Monday, around this time, Angel would get a call from Val, telling him to come in to work early and…satisfy him. Even thinking that made his skin crawl from the memories and phantom touches that were never welcomed.
EVER!
Angel Dust in his signature boots, took to walking, his footsteps echoing lightly against the worn tiles of the Hazbin Hotel's corridors. He absentmindedly rummaged through the pockets of his robe, a habitual search for a cigar that he hoped to find. He knew that he was supposed to stay clean, but it was one of those nights. Eventually, his fingers grasped a pack, and with a sense of relief, he withdrew one. Before he could even consider lighting it, a sudden voice shattered the silence.
"You okay, kid?"
Startled, the arachnid sinner jumped, his grip faltering and the cigar falling to the ground. "Fuck it all!" Angel cursed under his breath, eyes wide as he turned to see Husker, the cat bartender, wiping down a shot glass behind the bar.
Husker with a deadpanned face, asked, "What are you doing up so early in the morning? Going to that damn Porn Studio of yours?" Husker's voice held a mix of annoyance and a subtle tinge of worry.
"Little late to be working the bar, ain't it, kitty?" Angel retorted, trying to mask his own unease.
"Still doesn't answer my question, does it?" Husker replied, unamused by Angel's deflection.
Angel Dust sighed, bending down to retrieve his fallen cigar and quickly lighting it. He took a long drag, exhaling a plume of smoke that seemed to carry away some of his tension. For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging in the air.
"If you must fucking know..." Angel started, his voice more subdued now. He took another drag before continuing, "...I'm fine, Husky. Just had a little spook. Woke me up, and all." He attempted to shrug off the encounter in the bar, but Husker wasn't easily swayed.
"Yeah, yeah. You know you're not fooling anyone," Husker said with a huff, setting down the glass he had been cleaning. His gaze was steady on Angel Dust, unwavering in its concern. "Even Alastor could tell that something was up with you and the Princess; just like I know. And I don't know what shit you guys got yourselves into but—"
Angel Dust cut him off with a forced laugh, trying to deflect the conversation once more. "Well, aren't you the concerned type, Husky-Wusky? How about you whip me up a little drink to ease my nerves?" He snuffed out the barely touched cigar and settled onto a barstool, his demeanor a mixture of forced nonchalance and underlying tension.
Husker rolled his eyes, a gesture that held more exasperation than irritation, and grumbled under his breath. Despite his reluctance, he moved behind the bar to pour Angel Dust a drink. As he handed over the glass, the spider demon wasted no time in downing the entire contents in one go, immediately signaling for another.
"Look, if you've got a problem, you're not going to find the solution at the bottom of a bottle. I should know, I've been looking there a long time," Husker remarked with a tone that carried the weight of experience and regret. He busied himself cleaning and wiping down the bar, his movements a subtle admission of shared struggles.
"Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the afterschool special," he rolled his eyes at that.
Husker leaned against the scarred oak counter. "You think you're the only one who's been through hell and back, kid?" Husker's voice, rough with years of experience and wisdom, cut through the tense silence.
Angel Dust's crimson eyes flickered with irritation as he glanced up from his drink, his expression a mix of defiance and weariness. "Spare me the lecture, old man," Angel Dust growled, his tone laced with sarcasm. "You don't know a damn thing about what I'm dealing with."
Husker straightened slightly, meeting Angel's fiery gaze with a calm resolve. "Maybe not everything, but I know enough. You're running from something, and it ain't just Valentino."
The spider demon's fists clenched at his sides, his entire form quivering with suppressed emotion. "You think I enjoy being reminded of all that shit?!" His voice rose, laced with bitterness and anguish. "How about you keep your opinions to yourself, dick?!"
Husker leaned in closer, his voice firm. "They are not opinions but facts, kid! Hiding behind that smoke and mirrors routine like it's gonna make everything disappear? Ha, you're just deluding your fucking self."
"You mean my acting, pal? I must really need to step up my routine if I am to elude the wise old motherfucking bartender and his all-knowing ways," Angel Dust's voice was teeming with sarcasm and irritation, his eyes flashing with a wild intensity.
"Whatever you say, Mr Actor," Husker rolled his eyes, knowing that he was close to his goal, "How about you just stop your bullshitting and really be your own fucking self?"
Angel Dust's expression hardened, a defensive edge creeping into his voice. "Oh, sweetie…this is myself! And I will be damned to let you tell me otherwise."
Husker sighed deeply, sensing the depth of Angel's pain, but remained determined "You think pushing everyone away is gonna make things better? Charlie's trying to help you, whether you want to admit it or not."
The mention of Charlie caused a flicker of vulnerability to cross Angel's face. Flash backs of what they went through momentarily breaks through his facade of anger. His fists unclenched slightly, and he hesitated, grappling with conflicting emotions.
He saw the crack he was looking for and continued. "There's something more to this, isn't there?" Husker pressed, recognizing the shift in Angel's demeanor.
Angel Dust snapped out of his haze, his features twisted with a mix of frustration and defiance. "Mind your OWN DAMN business, Husker!"
But Husker wasn't easily deterred. "She cares about you, Angel. Maybe more than you let on. Maybe that's why she looked so damn tired," he narrowed his eyes at the spider now, "She did something the other day for you, didn't she?" his tone was accusatory.
A snarl escaped Angel Dust, his voice dripping with venom. "Don't you dare act like you know anything about her or ME!"
"Maybe I do…" Husker replied calmly, his gaze unwavering. "Maybe I know more than you think."
Confusion clouded Angel Dust's eyes, uncertainty flickering in the depths of his gaze. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Husker chose his words carefully, knowing he was walking a delicate line. "I've seen the way how she looked. I could tell that was power exhaustion. Can only get that when you do magic that you're not ready for. Says that if you attempt that level of spells without practice, you could seriously kill yourself. She must have done something like that to seriously save your ass. You're not just another lost soul to her, are ya?"
All Angel's three pairs of arms now sprout out, they quivered with rage, his claws elongated and razor-sharp. The bar around them seemed to shudder with each heaving breath of the enraged spider demon. His mind raced with conflicting emotions—anger, guilt, fear—all tangled together like a suffocating knot. "Shut up... JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Husker nodded slightly, acknowledging the nerve he had struck. "She's risking or has already risked everything for you. You owe her more than this self-destructive cycle. This broken-"
"I SAID SHUT UP!" Angel roared, the sound echoing through the bar with an otherworldly force. The air itself seemed to tremble in response to his fury. The room trembled as Angel Dust's true form burst forth in a swirl of pink mist and towering rage. All his eyes were open and blazed fiercely with a pink glow, all six arms bristling with lethal claws, his height grew three feet, fangs dripping with pink saliva. Husker took a step back, shaken but resolute in his stance.
"You're not gonna scare me off, Angel," Husker said firmly, though his voice held a note of empathy. "You've got to face this sooner or later."
Angel Dust struggled to regain control, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Get out of my way, Husker!"
Husker nodded grimly, understanding that he had done his job and that this little conversation was over. "Fine. Go ahead, run away again. But remember, you can't outrun yourself forever."
With a final, furious snarl, Angel Dust stormed out of the bar, the pink mist trailing behind him like a furious storm. Husker watched him go, a mix of concern and resignation etched on his weathered face.
He took a shaky breath, "Damn me," muttered to himself, before he scowled in frustration. "Alastor! Get your ass out here!"
Radio static filled the air and from the shadows, emerged Alastor, his unsettling smile twisted with amusement as he regarded Husker's stern expression.
"My, my, Husker. That was quite the performance you did there. Just as I had instructed," Alastor chuckled softly, clearly entertained by the scene he had witnessed. Husker narrowed his eyes, his tone sharp with exasperation. "Don't play games with me, Alastor. Was this what you wanted to see?"
Alastor shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze flickering with amusement. "Entertainment comes in many forms, my dear bartender. But yes, this little drama was quite enjoyable. It allowed me to make two proper assumptions."
"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" Husker muttered under his breath, his frustration evident.
"Why, thank you, Husker," Alastor replied with a smirk. "I do try my best." With a dismissive wave of his hand, Alastor vanished back into the shadows, leaving Husker alone in the aftermath of Angel Dust's outburst.
The bar fell into an uneasy silence, the air heavy with the weight of unresolved emotions and the lingering presence of Angel's inner turmoil. Husker sighed heavily, the lines on his face deepening with worry. As he began to clean up the shattered remnants of their confrontation, he couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. He knew Angel Dust was in turmoil, and Alastor's meddling only added to the complexity of the situation. Yet, Husker resolved to keep an eye on things, hoping against hope that Angel Dust would find his way through the storm, before it swallowed him whole.
'Sorry…legs.'
In the dimly lit office of the Porn Studio, tension hung thick in the air like a suffocating fog.
Valentino paced back and forth, his normally flamboyant demeanor overshadowed by rage. His moth wings fluttered aggressively behind him, their iridescence dulled with stress. Vox, his TV headed boy toy robot, hovered nearby, attempting to placate the furious moth overlord.
"I can't believe this shit, Vox!" Valentino snarled, his voice echoing off the walls. "That little Chica and that ungrateful two bit slut, spider have messed everything up! My deals, my fucking reputation!"
Vox, his screen visibly cracked from a previous outburst, tried to keep his composure. "Calm down, babe. You're just getting too worked up for nothing. We can figure this out. Maybe there's a loophole or—"
"Worked up for nothing? A loophole?!" Valentino interrupted, his voice booming. "They severed Angel's damn contract! That's why I'm feeling weaker! How the hell is that even possible?"
Velvet, lounging in a corner with an air of detached amusement, chuckled sadistically. "Looks like the little Ms 'every demon has a rainbow inside them' bitch is more powerful than you thought, Val. Or maybe you were always this weak? So much so that you relied heavily on that prized slut of yours to make you in to a big shot," she narrows her eyes at the guy.
Valentino's eyes flashed red with fury. With a swift motion, he grabbed a nearby chair and hurled it towards Velvet head. She dodged effortlessly, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Careful there, Val. Don't throw another hissy fit. It's not becoming of an Overlord, or rather a Hazbin Overlord," she wickedly laughed at her own joke. Valentino was growling, eyes blazing and red saliva was pouring down his face.
Vox stepped in between them, his cracked screen flickering slightly. "Enough! We need to focus," he said. "We need to focus, seems like her influence is stronger than anticipated, and we're losing money by the minute. So, I think we should come up with an idea to-"
Valentino seethed, his chest heaving with anger. Without warning, he slapped Vox across the face, cracking his screen further. "No! This will not stand! I'll handle this myself," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. He said with an impatient tone and left. He looked over to the Overlord of social media, glaring at her, while she ignores him. He left in a huff.
"Seems like the day has finally come at last," she diverts her attention to the TV Overlord, who struggled to stand up from the floor, "I always knew that Valentino would somehow find a way to fuck this all up," she stood before him. "Never thought it would be with one of our most lucrative cows. Welp, no sense beating ourselves about it now, is there?" she shrugged her shoulders, about to strut out of the room.
Vox could not believe the girl's attitude right now, "W-What the hell are you saying, Velvet?! This fucking involves all of us…a-and if Val is weakened, we all are-"
"Spare me the stupid speech will you, Voxxy?" she said in a deadpan face. "You know as well as I do, that you're just saying that because you're too in love with that purple wanker's dick, to even leave his sorry ass!" that got the TV Overlord to go static and slightly growl, but Velvet merely shrugged it off. "As for me personally, I rather focus on MY position and grow it further along the lines in this uncertain timespan. Just in case the little Moth prick, decides to fall and I won't be taken down with him," she flips her ponytail and leaves the room with the other Overlord alone to ponder over the whole mess.
As the TV demon was left "alone," somewhere in the shadows, a figure listened intently, a wide smile spreading across their face. The eerie feeling in the air intensified as they quietly slipped away, leaving behind a palpable sense of foreboding.
Author's Notes:
I can honestly say that this was an interesting ride. I know that HuskerDust fans will rip me a new one for causing this, but I promise that there will be a satisfactory ending in the works. Alastor trying to stir up Angel Dust's emotions might not really be his swing, but he is looking for some fine entertainment as well as, if you could believe it, to help for him.