The success of returning the weapon shipment had proved to be a fruitful endeavor. Not only did the crew at the safe house could relax after being tasked with a high-priority objective but they would be rewarded in return. It mostly consisted of gear that was usually kept in reserve for the department's Gendarmes; however, their weapon lockers were now brimmed with energy firearms or melee weapons. They were recommended to use it carefully and prevent them from falling into the hands of Hell but their arsenal was expanded from now on. The other perk was the improved Heaven-based rations in the case that alleviated their taste buds from the food found in the dark realm and some of its questionable sources.
Pavel took advantage of this in the mess hall with a paper plate containing three chocolate ice cream tacos that he 'requisitioned' from the freezer behind his back. His old communist personality screamed at how it was unlike him to enjoy the finer things in life; yet, here he was being selfish with his stomach. As he picked up one of the cold delicacies, Uhlman entered the room in a turtleneck sweater and khaki pants while carrying a plate of nachos. He was glad that he wasn't alone in appreciating the boon of their work.
Soon the head of the safe house crew sat across from him before picking up a chip covered in liquid cheese. "I might have one of those after I am finished with this."
"So how is everyone else?" Questioned the redeemed soul before he took a bite out of the sweet dessert. The stress among his peers had subsided since they returned from Heaven and he was curious about their well-being afterward, "I take they're back in their bunks."
"Not all of them. Our time-traveling friend, Alexander Morris, returned to Kronotek. The FBC director says her thanks. So unless we have another dire situation like this, it's back to being a regular listening post with Strelok on the radio." Uhlman answered before he picked up another chip from his plate.
"Any news about Artyom? He hasn't been with us for a while now."
"Tony says his situation became high-class," Came his reply while his mouth was still crushing the food inside, "The department head seems to have put our comrade in the role of bodyguarding the princess of Hell while keeping eyes and ears on Blitzo and the rest of I.M.P. We won't be seeing him for a while."
It was a shame. He was hoping they would take the time to properly hang out compared to what they did in life. Nonetheless, such was life as a Purgatory investigator. "So are there any updates on some poor saved soul we got to rescue?"
"Grace period. We're given a whole week off after intercepting that convoy. All we need to do is adjust personnel schedules thanks to you and Artyom hooking up with some of the locals." That was a good point. Now that they were sleeping with the Hellborn, their availability to the crew was limited.
"Back to work as usual. I hope the Holy Army got its shit together."
Another chip was taken from the plate but Uhlman paused before taking another bite. As the cheese dripped, the saved soul spoke. "That's not for us to worry about."
Their conversation came to a halt when they heard the elevator doors to Heaven open. Someone was visiting them. Footsteps quickly shuffled out, tapping against the ground outside the mess hall. The noise grew closer as the Russians turned their heads to the doorway to find Azrael's second-in-command arriving with his famous trench coat and black riot armor over his chest. "Uhlman, where is everyone else?"
"They're in their bunks, why?" Wondered the man across from Pavel, "Did something come up?"
"I know you guys need a bit of vacation after that mission but I'm issuing a priority alert to all safe houses Hellside. Someone is targeting our investigators and we need to deal with that problem fast." He said with conviction in his voice.
"Shit, how long has this been going on?"
The saved placed his hands into his pockets and let out a deep breath. "Recently. The guys Heavenside are studying the killings but I need you to keep a close eye on each other. Accountability might be the only clue to getting at these bastards."
Pavel grew concerned about these developments, more so now that his friend was stationed at the hotel. "Our comrade is at the hotel, are we going to check up on him?"
"No need. He's in a high profile position so that means the department has him under constant surveillance. If he needs help, Azrael will be the first to reach him. " He answered confidently with a smile on his face before placing his foot on the bench for Uhlman's side of the table, "It's the rest of you guys I'm worried about. No solos. Always have a partner with you at all times."
A phone rang from underneath the table before the head of the safe house brandished before everyone else. He ate the chip in his free hand before raising an index finger to bring the others to silence. After a single swipe from his thumb, the former Polis Ranger answered responded. "Artyom, what's up?"
The device's speakers activated as they heard the voice of their coworker. "A guy by the name of Valentino just kidnapped Angel Dust from the Hazbin Hotel but I don't know where they could be."
"Valentino… that's a big name you're going after," His tone seemed to darken, oppressed by the ominous importance of the name, "He's an overlord."
"I know but I promised Angel I'd look out for him if this shit happened." Answered his younger friend but was unsure of how to proceed.
"Give me a second to think."
Pavel decided it was time to see his fellow 'musketeer' again and took initiation to intervene on the conversation. If Artyom intended to take on a big name, he will need backup. "We know where he is. The guy's hanging out at the largest porn studio in Hell. Do you need a hand for that?"
"I'd appreciate that," Came his reply but then it was followed up, "I'm at this bar full of former stalkers and post-apocalypse survivors. We could meet up there and form a plan in a nearby alleyway?"
Uhlman shook his head disapprovingly. "Don't worry. I got VIP access to the backrooms over there. We won't be disturbed planning things out. Until then, sit tight."
"Ladna." The phone call beeped and the trio looked at each other as the crew leader put the device on the table.
"I'll let everyone relax but Pavel and I should rendezvous with him," Then his eyes trailed down to look at his food, "I hate stuffing myself but we're short on time."
Tony leaned forward and placed both his hands on his knee. "While you guys do that, I should head back to the situations room and monitor everything. Remember what I said, no solos."
Hiding out in Pride's badlands was both a relief and a burden at the same time. Sure, you could be free from the urban environments and the law of the authorities but that came with a cost. Although Striker was used to living in the lonely parts of Hell, from each level of sin, he had no shortage of enemies. If it wasn't for the gangs roaming the rural and pastoral landscape, he would have to deal with the dark realm's oldest entities in existence and spiteful windbags who refuse to leave the past - the possessors. Such ancient creatures were the former dominant group that oppressed the Hellborn, forcing them to seek protection from the Ars Goetia and even they themselves were no match for the strongest of their kind.
The dynamic relationship they had over everyone else would change when a fallen archangel descended from above in the aftermath of the War of Heaven. Once Lucifer solidified his rule with his wife, he advanced society and centralized authority under the power of his throne out from the gutter. Such was the nature of his kind, even if he fell far from God's grace. Yet, it did not go unnoticed by the possessors, who viewed these changes to their reality as a mistake to be rectified.
They tried to challenge his power but anybody worth a brain would see that fighting someone who carried the experience of single-handedly leading the legions to fight the Seraphim Guard and the Holy Army was incredibly stupid. The survivors fled into the badlands with the hope of overthrowing the ruler of Hell and made constant incursions into civilized society to remind the Hellborn why they should be afraid of them. As time passed, each incursion grew smaller over the eons and the last of their kind became nothing more than a nuisance to be dealt with if they reared their head into Lucifer's affairs. Pride became their last refuge but even the ruler sought to integrate them into his kingdom; however, the very concept of being surpassed seemed alien to them. At best, they could attack some poor trucker on a highway or possess a human in the mortal planes. The days of their so-called glory of being complete asshats to everyone else were gone but it was best that it stayed that way.
Striker sat quietly on the porch, outside of his cabin in the woods. He heard reports on the radio that there was another raid by the possessors but he did not intend to let them catch him by surprise. This building was one of the few hideouts he had where he could relax without having to keep one eye open thanks to its isolation. Yet, the latest attack nearby would mean that he would have to deal with their mess. They always made a mess out of everything and he was not going to grant them the luxury.
He rocked back and forth in his chair with a lever-action rifle laid out on his lap. If the damn creatures attempted to take his place out, there was enough distance for the assassin to get his shots off. As he waited for the potential assailants underneath the crimson sunset, the imp-greedling turned his gaze upon the table to his right where a glass of cold lemonade and a plate of freshly-cooked hog meat was. The Hellborn reached out and took a sip to quench his thirst and satisfy himself.
A phone rang and ruined the atmosphere he made for himself as his free hand dug into his pockets and brandished the device out. Even out in the wilderness, there was still enough wireless connection and reception in these parts of the woods. Caller identification appeared on the screen, revealing it to be nothing more than the Goetia client who hired him to kill her husband. His fingertips tapped the green button while his eyes remained on scanning the open fields in front of him and the treeline four hundred meters out. "What do you need, Stella?"
"It has been weeks since you last attempted to kill my husband. Do you have any plans on getting rid of him now?" Questioned the authoritative woman as he heard silverware. Out of all the nobles of Hell, she seemed incredibly unhinged but she made up for that with the pay she was offering. After all, the girl was paying the VIP premium. Who was he to deny her that satisfaction?
"Unfortunately, no. I'm currently dealing with a possessor attack but I'll be ready to pick him off," He assured her while explaining his current situation to the impatient owl. Then he realized it was an opportunity to get any information out of her since she lived so close to the target, "What of Stolas? Do you have info that might be handy in the future?"
"I do. My husband… is going to visit Ozzies with that fucking imp of his."
The name of the place brought shivers down his spine. It was owned by Asmodeus and even he knew better than to get in-between that Hellborn and turn it into a killzone. "They aren't meeting anytime later?"
"Why? Do you have any cold feet?" Stella hinted at her disdain for him as was expected from her kind. She continued with arrogance just as terrible as her husband's family, "Allow me to remind you that I could hire some other up-and-coming imp with my money. My patience is not infinite."
"Hey, no need to get angry. I'm still doing my job, just need some extra information to work with."
"Good. Call me if you kill him or capture him." Not another word was spoken as the line went dead.
Striker slipped his phone into his pocket as he pondered about the hit. Asmodeus would tear him a new one if he learned what was going on. Then again, it was a lot of money going around and he was not going to pass it up.
His eyes caught movement from the treeline as undiscernible red figures seeped out of the forest in a ghostly appearance. Small tendrils writhed from the mass that they called a body as they began to approach his cabin slowly. The assassin looked at his food and stabbed his slab of meat with his tail before tossing the meal into his gullet. A warm sensation flowed through his veins until he felt ready. The hunter leaned forward in his chair and rested his lever-action rifle on the porch railing to steady his aim. Then he lowered his head low enough to match the level of his sights, catching five possessors closing the distance. This was going to be a long night.
He pulled the trigger and a bullet screamed into the air.
Artyom found himself on a stool and alone in a bar known as the Springtime Bullet. The wait for his comrades made the atmosphere suspenseful despite the entire room being filled with chaos and laughter. Drunk sinners or groups of former stalkers cheered and partied to their hearts' content while he differed from the others. His mood would not improve until Angel Dust was returned to safe hands.
The bartender walked up to him in a plaid black and red shirt. A large cigar was embedded in between his teeth with large tusks protruding out from his jaw. His eyes were yellow as gold and his skin was blue as water. "Oi, what do you be havin' lad?"
"Nuka-Cola." He answered casually as he hunched over the counter and scanned his surroundings. No alcohol today as his mind needed to be at its best if he wanted to pull off his rescue mission.
"Give me a sec. I'll be with you in a minute."
Time was precious but he couldn't enter the den of an overlord. Some preparations were necessary if he ever wanted to commit to what was effectively a suicide mission. Overlords were not an alien concept to him and living in a hotel that had one gave him some insight about their kind. If he could find a way to placate them, no fighting would be involved but Artyom knew better than to rely on that kind of hope for a sinner. Especially, if the individual was an overlord.
His eyes watched the other patrons find solace in the company of friends and loved ones. The disguised saved stood out like a sore thumb. If Uhlman and Pavel didn't get here in time, someone was going to notice and he would have more trouble on his plate than what was needed right now.
"I don't have the regulars. Will this do?" The bartender returned with a cold soft drink in hand. It glowed a blue hue from within a glass bottle, kept inside thanks to a small metal cap on top. He placed it in front of him before wiping his hands on his clothes thanks to the condensation.
Artyom nodded his head as he reached out while the man walked away from him, attending to the needs of his customers. The former Polis Ranger popped the bottlecap with his thumb and raised it high above his lips before taking a good swig of the liquid's contents. Sodium and a taste of radioactivity burned through his throat; yet, it did not matter thanks to his existence in the afterlife. If he was alive, he'd call it a stupid decision not to drink vodka.
When he was satisfied with the initial sip, he placed the bottle back on the counter and swallowed. Thank goodness that the others from the Hazbin Hotel were not here to see him. Many questions would be asked about why he wasn't heading over to Angel's location.
He heard a pair of footsteps knock on the wooden flooring. The sound was unique and he managed to somehow tell it apart from the others inside the bar. Why? He knew not, only that his ears could tell. His gut churned as if sensing familiarity but there were no signs of his coworkers arriving and neither did they give him a message.
Footsteps grew closer behind his back until the individual revealed himself. "Artyom, is that you?"
It was Hunter's voice.
The post-apocalypse survivor turned around on his stool to face the man who shaped him into the person he was today. His Hellish appearance was almost similar to his form when he was alive. The only difference is that the senior Polis Ranger's skin was encased in gold as if he was a statue given life. Wearing nothing more than blue jeans and a purple turtleneck, he smiled upon seeing him face-to-face.
"Hey, great to see you!" A wave of emotions went through his soul but his first reaction was to embrace an old face once again with a massive hug. It had been a few years since they departed from Exhibition station.
"A lot has happened since we last saw each other," They let go as Hunter took a stole on the left and joined the Purgatory investigator by the counter, "I died fighting the Dark Ones, how did you get here?"
The question was quite problematic from his perspective as the bartender approached him and asked for a drink. He could never tell the truth about his true identity and reasons for being in Hell but there were enough memories Artyom could disclose. "Do you know Colonel Mel'nikov's daughter?"
"Anna? You got hitched with the commander's daughter?" From the way he stated those words, he seemed surprised about the news as much as anyone else. Then again, no one back in the Spartan Order would believe he had a chance.
"Yeah, we got married and all that."
Hunter's hand reached behind and patted the undercover redeemed on his back. "Congratulations. We should drink to such a proud marriage! How many kids did you two make?"
"We never got a chance," His mood darkened as he turned to the drink in front of him and remembered the past. Merely holding the cold bottle reminded Artyom of the dark night trying to march through the snow in freezing temperatures. Radiation flowed through every fiber of his body as if it was being pricked by sharp needles, "I died with my Geiger clicking."
"That's a damn shame. She's a good Ranger and she would have been a good mother. Sometimes… life is unfair to us like that."
"I would like to spend some time with you but I have some business to deal with. Maybe we can catch up later." He would want to know how his closest family friend had spent his time down in Hell after the events of the Dark Ones.
They stole one look from each other before the veterans gave a silent nod of respect. Other people would have viewed this as a strange way of saying farewell. Yet, it was a byproduct of their lives when the sons of the apocalypse couldn't spend the air needed to say goodbye in the wasteland. Not a word later, Hunter slipped out of his seat and walked away. The younger disguised investigator looked over his shoulder to see the man's back turned away as he approached the main entrance.
His pocket buzzed and incited the redeemed to reach inside and brandish his phone. His eyes looked at the pop-up notifications to see that his peers were reaching out to him. After navigating through his device, Pavel and Uhlman were in the VIP rooms.
It was time.
The limousine of the Hazbin Hotel arrived out front of the main entrance as the moth sinner stormed out of the vehicle and brushed through the doors with great haste. Upon entering the hallway, Vaggie looked to her right to find Husk standing behind his bar with Alastor drinking a glass of bourbon across from him. The first thing on her mind was the whereabouts of her girlfriend. "Where's Charlie?!"
"Why the rush, darling?" Questioned the radio demon as he drank his glass in a single sitting before placing it on a flat surface. Then he spun around in the stool and rested his back against the counter, "You seemed overworked."
"That's because I am. Angel Dust just got kidnapped by Valentino." She answered in a harsh tone. There was no time to deal with Alastor's bullshit; especially, now.
The bartender on the other side raised his eyes with worry. His attitude changed as if the situation awakened him from his drunken stupor. "Where's the other guy? Did they get him too?"
"No. He's tracking them down right now but I need your help. It's suicide for him to go alone."
"Indeed. I suppose I can offer some assistance." Stated the 1920s sinner as he leaped from his seat and landed gracefully in front of her. His fingertips reached out as his microphone stand appeared in his hand.
She was weirded out by the man's mood. Why was he doing this? Alastor had a self-interested bastard who only looked out for himself, no one else. "You want to help us?"
"Of course! Do you have any idea how much boredom one can suffer without some excitement from violence? This a chance to savor some bloodshed."
Footsteps thumped against the carpet floor as Charlie's voice called to her. She turned around to find the princess of Hell standing in the hallway with Verosika Mayday behind her. "Vaggie? What's wrong? Where is Railtracer and Angel?"
"Valentino," Replied the El Salvadoran as she expressed her worry about the fate of the American-Italian and the Russian sinners, "He sent someone to ambush us."
The succubus crossed her arms and looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. Then she snapped her fingers and grabbed the attention of everyone in the room. "If it's Valentino, then they're probably taking him to the Porn Studio. I've been there a couple of times but if that's where his dirty business usually happens."
"Can you point us the directions?" Maybe there was a chance that they could save the first sinner who chose to stay at the Hazbin Hotel.
"Yeah, I have the address," Verosika pulled out her phone and started tapping on the touch screen as she continued to speak her mind, "It's heavily guarded so if you're planning to break him out, be ready for a fight."
"That shouldn't be a problem."
His head began to hurt.
Angel Dust opened his eyes but darkness muffled his eyesight. His captors knocked him out ever since they dragged him into the car. All he could do was helplessly gain a sense of his surroundings as a commotion of people talked among themselves. The sinner tried to discern the voices; yet, he was powerless thanks to a rice bag covering his entire head. Soon the mood changed when his nose caught a scent in the atmosphere. It was a smell he was familiar with but one he dreaded ever since he took up Charlie's offer and never looked back.
A pair of footsteps tapped against the floorboards as someone walked up to him from behind and ripped the bag off. The captive frantically looked around and found himself sitting in a wooden chair placed on the center stage. Soon a white light shined upon him, causing him to briefly close his eyes and turn away from its sheer brightness. Then a woman's voice spoke from the rear. "Well, well, well, Val's boy toy is finally awake.
It was rare for him to express true fear after recognizing one of the overlords who owned his former workspace. "Velvette?"
"Ah, you remember me!" The woman expressed her sarcasm before appearing from the right corner of his eye and walking in front of him. She turned to lean forward and stare at him with an evil smile on her face, "Did you think you could run from us? That you thought you could be free from your… responsibility. It doesn't work like that."
There was another person in the room and his electronic voice called upon the feminine overlord. The man sounded robotic but he became the voice of reason to refrain the overlord, "Enough Velv. As much as we would like to see him suffer, this is Val's issue, not yours."
"Fine!" She pouted before turning her back on him and jumped off the stage and joined the shadow underneath the rays of light.
"Tone down the brightness."
The intensity began to simmer as Angel Dust's eyes adjusted to a change in the lighting. In front of him are auditorial seats in red but all were empty save for three. A third row from the front was Velvette jumping into a chair beside a taller individual. He wore a black suit with a red bow tie, which was an offset of his Hellish form a walking and sentient television stand. As soon as he recognized him, all he could do was feel his stomach churn at all the torturous acts of pleasure that could be done against his will.
"You know why you're here?" Questioned the overlord with the television head while maintaining a tone of a gentleman, "A debt is owed and there is a promise that Valentino can do whatever he wants with you until it's over."
"You can fuck right off, Vox! I live at the Hazbin Hotel. There's nothing he can do about that." It was the only card he could play. Maybe they would take his bluff but he knew these bastards well. They didn't become the top dogs of Pride by mere power alone.
"The thing is, you weren't captured at the Hazbin Hotel but at a pastry shop that sold cannolis. Even if you were, do you think that her majesty would truly care about your kidnapping? After all, you didn't exactly show up when she needed you at the news station. What makes you think she'll return the favor?"
A pang of guilt seeped into his heart. He was not wrong about what he did back then but the spider hoped that Charlie's better nature. Surely, she wouldn't abandon him, would she? "You guys really like to underestimate her. Trust me, it ain't worth pissing her off."
"Oh, we know but there are ways to make sure it doesn't happen. Val? You can spend as much time with him as you want. He thinks he has a chance." His voice seemed discontent but it also carried a venomous tone upon calling upon the final member of their trio.
Footsteps shuffled from his left as the porn star looked to the side of the stage. A shadow moved and made its way toward him like a hunter catching his prey in a trap. If had a choice, he would tear his limbs out and try to jump out of the building than deal with his former boss. A cockroach slipped into the light with his body wrapped in a red fur coat. To further display his flamboyant side was a top hat that shared its themes with the rest of his apparel while a pair of heart-shaped glasses rested upon his nose. "Why did you run and abandon poor old me my sweet little thing."
"Let me go."
"Ah, we're just getting started," He replied, strolling across while exposing himself in the open. His boots tapped against the floorboards with a greedy smile and a baleful gaze, "Daddy needs some lovin' and our boys brought you back safe and sound."
When the overlord reached him, his height towered over the sinner before leaning forward to level his head and meet Angel's. The powerless position of the former porn star caused him to try and break out of the ropes; yet, it was to no avail. A hand cupped his chin and forced the Italian to look upon the cockroach of a man with a spark of lust in his eyes. Soon another's lips were forced against his.
He tried to back his head away from his captor but there was little room for his body to maneuver around. Memories of the past seeped back into his mind, of all the moments this predator treated him as nothing more than a slave to his will. His soul broken for Valentino's pleasures of the flesh, forced to live an agonizing existence from the moment he signed away his right to be free. A toy to be played with but also broken at any time.
Tears trickled from his eyes as relief came to him by recalling that fateful day when Charlie came to him on that corner street. She didn't have to give him a chance but it happened and his view of the world changed for the better. Inspired by those thoughts, a hint of anger flowed through his veins as the homosexual spider broke away from his captor's mouth before throwing his head first. A great headbutt slammed against the cranium of the cockroach, causing him to stumble back and shout in surprise.
The act of defiance gave Angel Dust some reprieve but it was brief when the overlord regained his footing and glared. His hand was raised high until the captor brought it low and backhanded the former gangster in the face. "You got a lot of spunk, I like that but the studio can't give me the green light until I break you for the gang to have their fun."
He shook his head, unwilling to give in and let his dominating master from controlling his life. Cherrybomb brought him out of this dark place and he was not letting that experience regain a foothold.
"That head-shaking of yours ain't going to do shit. If I want your asshole to be searing red, you're going to take it like a champion. You hear me?! Give up you fluffy cunt, it's not like anyone is going to save you. Then again, who gives a shit about you anyway."
A loud door swung open as a collection of shoes marched from behind his back. It seemed to be important as the imprisoned sinner looked at the overlords in the auditorium and the stage, raise their heads and move towards the newcomers who interrupted his torture. "Uh, I know we shouldn't be interrup-"
"This better be fucking important. Can't you see that I'm in the middle of something?!" Valentino's patience was at his limit as the spider saw Valentino's cover his face with a hand as blood seeped over the fingers. His attention was facing towards the newcomer as looked over his shoulder to see a Greedshark in a black suit and tie stand at the center of a doorway.
"We got visitors, important visitors," Answered the nervous gang member trying to avoid the wrath of his superiors, "They're here for Angel Dust, boss."
Vox rose from his seat in the rows while his gaze remained both confused and annoyed. "Then tell them that they can wait."
"I can't do that. Sure, I work for you but these aren't the guys I can bullshit." Answered the Hellborn, his face encased with terror.
"Why is that? This is our studio and we can do as we like," The overlord countered as he strode forward towards the stage while his television screen turned on and blinked red with anger. Out of all the overlords in this clique, it was rare to find him angry, "They can't do shit to us."
"They actually can because… well… they work for Lucifer."
It was a blessing that they planned out their extraction of a single sinner in less than thirty minutes before they came here. Much could go wrong with their plan to pretend that they all served the fallen archangel; yet, the trio carried an ace up their sleeves should the situation devolve into a firefight between the disguised agents of the department and members of one of the top gangs in Pride. Brown trenchcoats were worn over their shoulders, allowing the men to enter the building with their blessed weapons within reach.
Artyom led the way with Pavel and Uhlman behind him, securing his flanks. His unholy badge is the key to granting them access at the main entrance before proceeding deeper into the porn studio. The reaction of the staff was phenomenal. They would initially express disdain and feel insulted by their presence; however, their tunes and complaints about the trio would change into kiss-ass remarks or absolute fear among any they came across. All it did was showcase the authority of the Russian's newfound power.
A staff member brought them to an elevator before stepping aside to their right and guiding them with his hand. The imp straightened his back and expressed his attempts at repressing his terror while maintaining a demeanor of professionalism. "This will take you to the presidential suite. The managers will be waiting for you there."
The trio entered as the doors closed upon the last man slipping through. As they began to ascend floor levels in the shaft, the redeemed looked over his left shoulder to see Uhlman's blue and furry face scan his surroundings. "What are you doing?"
Minutes passed as he leaned over his ear and whispered. "Checking for a wiretap. We can't be too careful about these bastards. Don't want them to catch our conversations."
"Got it," Technology was not the man's forte and so he trusted his friend to deal with that issue. They could not afford to waste a single advantage on petty talk nor reveal to the overlords that their authority was a bluff. Every minute they spend here, the more potential they had for someone to call their deception.
The elevator began to decelerate to a stop as the gas mask hiding the investigator's face began to warm. If he wasn't in his sinner disguise, Artyom would showcase himself sweating bullets to his comrades and the people he was about to confront. Negotiations would have to be quick and precise if they were to get Angel Dust out but should they be forced into violence, his strange two-handed sword would be enough to give him reach in melee.
Once the doors opened, the trio was met with a blue marble table in the center of the floor. The ceiling lights were focused on it while the rest of the room was filled with darkness. Three empty chairs were waiting for them while three overlords sat across from them. Without a word, they took their steps forward and approached the captors of the homosexual porn star.
Eyes began to detail the grey-skinned woman sitting on the left. Although her seat was smaller than her peers, her pink hair expressed a level of freedom matched only by an evil grin along her black lips. Attractive at first glance; yet, the overlord exuded an unnatural feeling of unstableness with her emotions.
Then his gaze shifted to the tall cockroach in a red fur coat with the collar and wrists trimmed in white. He seemed disgusted at their presence but was unable to accept that he was receiving them. To compensate for that, the creature brandished a cigarette and brought it over to his partner in the center of the seating arrangement.
A slightly less tall overlord sat between them. His head was nothing more than a television screen with a mouth and eyes trapped inside. As he noticed the cigarette being presented in front of him, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a lighter, igniting it. Red smoke burned and began to fill the room but it did not obfuscate the three disguised saved souls from reaching them. "Welcome to our humble establishment. It's rare that we get any official recognition from Hell's finest!"
"We are not here to be amused," Artyom answered as he was the first to take his seat at the rectangular table. His comrades followed suit and directed their focus on them. Then he continued, unwilling to let them have an advantage in this conversation, "Let us be done with this."
"You are here for Angel Dust, right? I don't see why his majesty would send someone after us. It's not like he sent agents after Katie Killjoy for fighting with his daughter. I don't see why he would be interested in some random schmuck." The way he described the spider made his blood boil slightly but the Russian was fortunate to maintain a calm demeanor. While it was true that Katie wasn't dealt with any repercussions, it was before Lucifer was interested enough to pay Charlie a visit.
"That was before his majesty paid the Hazbin Hotel a visit and assigned me there. Things have changed."
The girl on the left barged right into the conversation. "Oh, so he's entertaining the stupidity of a princess? Please, can't you just replace him with someone else and call it a day? You're already wasting our time."
"We are tasked to protect the princess and anything that belongs to the hotel. This also includes the sinner. Angel is there at the pleasure of her highness, so until he does something to be evicted off the premises, he counts as well." It was a cold statement but this was Hell after all and the man needed to show face to the people who embodied their own sinful ways of life. The deception was necessary, much to the risk of his conscience when describing his acquaintance at the hotel.
"So that's it, huh?" She leaned back in her wooden chair and crossed her arms disappointingly, "What is this no-nonsense bullshit?"
The insect on the right began to make his moves as his hand reached for the cigarette and removed it from his mouth. Then several puffs of smoke were released from his lungs as he shifted his gaze on him. "Don't you three realize where you are? We could just kill you on the spot and dump your bodies in a river. No one would give a care in the world about three sinners working for the court."
"Pathetic," Spoke Pavel as he began to laugh at the statement by rolling his head back, "No wonder you're a fucking cockroach!"
"The fuck did you say to me?" He rose from his chair and towered over everyone sitting at the table. His hand reached underneath the coat and pulled out an M9 pistol in hand and pointed at the disguised saved. Artyom tensed up as his hand was ready to reach for his blessed blade.
"You're really going to draw a gun on us? Sure, go ahead. You may think you're tough shit in Pride but the truth is that you can't accept the fact that we have this power over you. Just like a cockroach, if you kill us, we can crush you without hesitation. Now, Valentino, be a good boy and hand him over."
A metallic clink popped from underneath the table as Uhlman leaned forward and brought his hand out to the center of the table. He presented a grenade pin with a holy hand grenade showcased in the grip of his right hand. "We may die but we'll be together for this occasion."
The center overlord pulled out a handkerchief and patted his television screen before his face looked at his associates standing over him. "I don't think we can keep him."
Valentino shook his head at his words. "Angel owes me, I am owed. The little Italian fucker is not going to get away. He's mine!"
"You'll have your due but not like this," He replied as he stole a glance at the explosive, "I'm not dying just so you can fuck this particular asshole."
"Vox, I thought you'd back me on this. Fucking coward you are."
The television overlord stood up and guided his partner's shooting hand away from Pavel's head. Then the cockroach sinner roared in anger and fired his gun to the ceiling and until the magazine was empty. He stepped away from the table and swore to himself while turning his back on everyone.
Artyom took this as a sign of defeat before turning his gaze upon Uhlman's Hell form. "Retract the grenade."
Soon the explosive was pulled away from the table as the former Polis Ranger snatched the pin and reattached it back into place. All it took was a single wrong move for everyone to die at this place. The stress needed to be alleviated when he returned to the Hazbin Hotel.
"Now, hand him over - alive and untouched."
Mrs. Mayberry drove ahead of the others while her car was occupied by an overlord in the seat to her right while Husker and Verosika's Hellhound were in the back. To say that she was uncomfortable was an understatement. Her friend was at risk of being in danger and Railtracer was outnumbered by a large margin. She did not doubt that he was capable of but the sinner felt that everyone had their limits.
The woman reached below the radio and felt the butt-stock of a pump-action shotgun beside her leg. She was not as combat capable as the people accompanying her but there had to be a way to contribute. It was not much but maybe it would be enough.
Alastor leaned forward and pointed his finger ahead. He had been attentive throughout the whole ride ever since they set off. "There!"
The teacher saw past the cars in front of her and captured the sight of a porn studio towering over the rest of the skyscrapers within the city. As they advanced closer, she saw the entrance to the building and a parking spot waiting for them. Their moment of violence was coming and she trembled at what would happen. Her heart stopped upon seeing Angel Dust walking out the front door with Railtracer helping him to a nearby car. Yet, they were accompanied by two others - a bronze-colored robot in a black trench coat and a blue carpet with the most horrific face she had ever seen.
Soon they parked behind a black SUV and were quick to step out of the car. She grabbed their attention while rushing towards the spider with a bruised mark across his face. "Railtracer, Angel!"
She saw his head turn and recognized the gas mask across his face. "Just in time. Help him get in the car. Just watch our backs."
"How did you convince them to let him go?" It was a genuine question that the sinner had about the man before stealing a glance from the other two, "Who are they?"
"The robot is Pavel and the fluffy monster is Uhlman. They were old friends of mine when I was alive. I called in a few favors and they came to help me out."
It was such a relief to see him unharmed and so the woman jumped across and embraced him with a hug. At first, he seemed surprised but then he reciprocated with a hug of his own but then they heard their wounded companion complain. "Look, I don't want to ruin the moment but let's head back home. I could use a drink."
Author's Note: It's a lot shorter than my previous chapter but not a lot happens to justify the 10k word count. So the concept of the possessors was inspired by FAITH: The Unholy Trinity and I thought it would be a neat concept to develop something unique to this crossover.