Behind the shelter of Alastor's protection, Elida didn't notice the shift in most demons' disposition towards her. She was so used to people running from Alastor that she was completely unaware of people growing more and more terrified of her by the day. After the Vees, followed so closely by her publicized speech to Vermin, people began to wonder if there was more demon in her than she let on.
Alastor didn't notice either. Everyone was too scared to say anything to him that could be even remotely construed as negative or critical about his girl. They both remailed blissfully ignorant, assuming that the reason demons ran away from the pair had everything to do with the Radio Demon, and nothing to do with the Angel Overlord.
Alastor had the time of his life watching Vox forced to set himself ablaze in front of the entire Coven. He hadn't been joking about roasting marshmallows. Elida ate three. Then the morning after Vox's second punishment, Hell's most notorious power couple bid goodbye to the Hazbin guests and hopped through a portal to Heaven. Saint Peter, accustomed to their appearances by now, barely looked up from his book of names before opening the gate to let them in. They walked hand-in-hand through Heaven's gates.
Before digging into the archives, Alastor and Elida decided to stop by Redemption City to see how their old colleagues were faring. It was always nice to see the effect of one's efforts, after all. And, if they were both honest, they needed a break. It had been a taxing several weeks. Elida needed to see her friends, and Alastor needed to see his mother.
When they arrived in the center of town, two things caught their notice. The first and most obvious change from their last visit was a massive steampunk orrery ticking and spinning magnificently right in the middle of the main courtyard. Everything about it screamed Pentious, and Elida grinned up at it. He'd been busy!
The second oddity was how quiet the whole place was. The center courtyard was where all the Redeemed would meet up and chat with each other when they weren't busy. This was the first time they'd seen it completely empty. Alastor was more concerned with this fact than Elida was, who was primarily focused on Pentious's mechanical art piece. This was Heaven, after all. What danger could a little quiet possibly pose?
"Oh, it's beautiful!" She cooed. She flew up to inspect it from a higher angle when she was suddenly assaulted by a blur of white and gold. Someone tackled her to the ground, pulling her behind the wall of a fountain. She tried to scream, but her attacker held her mouth shut with a strong, well-manicured hand.
No sooner had Elida been pinned in place than Alastor braced to attack. No one touches his Elida. With a grin fit for a madman, he summoned several tendrils of magic, ready to strike as soon as Elida's attacker showed their face. Unfortunately, it had happened so fast that he wasn't sure where they were. It was all a confusing blur of angelic light and feathers.
"Pssst… Smiles!" A familiar voice whispered loudly from behind him.
Alastor turned his head a full 180 toward the speaker even as his shadow went searching for Elida's hiding place. Anthony peeked his head out from behind a row of thick bushes. His hair was coated in a sticky red substance, and he was gesturing wildly for Alastor to take cover. Alastor joined him behind the bushes, eye twitching in irritation. There, he found Husker, Sir Pentious, and a few of the less remarkable souls whose names Alastor hadn't bothered to remember.
"If we're under attack, I'm afraid I'm contractually unable to assist without being targeted first," he informed them, despite the magic tentacles poised to strike.
"Keep ya voice down," Anthony whispered, "They'll hear us. And put those things away before someone sees!"
"I say let him fend for himself," Husker voted bitterly, "We'll see how tough he is away from his home turf."
Pentious scanned their surroundings with a pair of silver binoculars. "Group of sseven enemies at three o'clock," He reported, "All armed."
"Shit," Anthony spat, "I'm low on ammo."
"Fuck! Me too," Husker added. "We'll have to take some of them down and steal theirs. Pentious, what's the play?"
"Ssally, Eduardo, and Fiss; you three will move further to the south. When you are within range, make some noisse and draw the enemy's attention. When they are looking the other way, Hussker, Anthony, Alasstor and I will come in from the right and take them out. Agreed?"
"Got it," Fiss nodded, army crawling in the direction Pentious had indicated. This wasn't particularly necessary, as the bushes weren't all that short, but Alastor didn't have the time or patience to correct idiots on a battlefield.
"Do what you like," Alastor said, "I'm going to be collecting my doll. She doesn't have much taste for these things. Poor doe would probably try to sweet-talk her way free. I prefer a far more… aggressive approach." Heaven's air darkened around Alastor's eyes as he spoke. The Hazbins weren't bothered. They were used to his brand of creepy.
"The Mayor has her," Pentious responded, "Ssshe'll be alright as long as she ssstays low."
Behind the fountain, Marcel did his best to soothe Elida's panic while still holding her down. "Shhh! It's okay, it's just me!" he whispered. "You have to stay dow- OUCH!" Elida bit his hand, which was more startling than painful, but habit told Marc to cry out at the sensation of cold teeth on his fingers.
"What the Hell, Marc?" she scolded, "That grab felt way too much like when Lute tried to kill me. Are you trying to send me into a flashback?"
"I'm sorry," He cringed, "I had to get you under cover before they saw you."
"Who? What's happening? Where's Allie?" She tried to peek up from behind the fountain, but Marc kept a firm hand on her shoulder. Despite his gentle nature, he was surprisingly strong.
"Hold on," he whispered, "Please, just stay hidden! We can't have you running around unarmed like that."
"I'm hardly defenseless," she reminded him, eyes swirling with a dangerous light.
That made Marc give her a very confused look, "What? What are you talking about?"
"What are YOU talking about?"
"No one told you?"
"Told me what? If you don't explain what's going on right now, I'm going to set something on fire. I need to find Allie!"
"Hold that thought," Marc said, finger moving up to a Bluetooth device in his ear, "Copy that Rose 2, I have the Ambassador, but we're vulnerable here. Rose 1 requesting immediate extraction for both allies from position 6." He paused for a minute, listening to the response while Elida glared at him, annoyed that he wasn't answering her questions. Finally, he said, "Understood. See you in 30."
Elida chanced a peek toward the Grey Area portal. Had something had gone wrong? It wasn't impossible that the Coven's security had been breached and some unauthorized demons had broken through to attack Heaven's people. While Elida and Alastor both had a strong hold over the court of public opinion, it was impossible to sway everyone. However, it looked like there was nothing wrong. The entrance was closed and unbroken. She breathed a sigh of relief.
"Marcel, what's happening?"
"In 30 seconds, a rescue team is going to show up and bring us to a better shelter. This spot is too exposed. Just follow my lead and I'll explain when we're somewhere more secure."
Elida grumbled under her breath, folding her arms like a grumpy child, but otherwise complied. Right on cue, two redeemed angels descended from above with strange glass shields. They handed Marc and Elida shields of their own, then told them to stay in a defensive formation. She tried to ask why they weren't just teleporting away, you know, like a sane person, but they were all too busy watching for some hidden enemy to respond to her questions.
It didn't take long to get to their new location, which was just some kind of bakery in a nearby skyscraper. The whole place was stacked from ceiling to floor with racks and racks of fresh-baked pies. It smelled amazing. Despite her irritation, Elida was always up for a tasty treat. Ignoring the incredulous looks from her fellow angels, she reached right into the center of one of the pastries and grabbed a messy handful of warm, gooey berries.
Marc looked from her to the hole in the pie, to her fistful of goopy sugar, and back to her again. Looking equal parts amused and bewildered, he remarked, "You are positively feral."
Mayberry came up behind him wearing a baking tin as a helmet, "You know we have plates, right?" She took some of the red juice from the ruined pastry and smeared it under her eyes like war paint. She gave Marc an incredibly flirty look as she licked the juice from her fingers. Marc blushed redder than the pie-filling.
Elida shrugged at Mayberry, "Meh. Plates are for later. Now tell me what's going on before I do something really unhinged." She ate the handful while she looked out a wide window.
From there, Elida had a good bird's eye view of the courtyard. She scanned the ground for Alastor, wondering where he'd ended up. She spotted him behind a row of bushes next to Pentious and the others. At least he was with people she knew and trusted, but he looked incredibly annoyed. She could see his shadow looking for her.
While Marc explained what was happening, Elida watched her friends split into two groups and head in different directions. Alastor tapped on his staff. Elida heard his voice calling to her from her wand.
"Dearest, are you still alive, or will I be carving up the mailman for dinner tonight?"
"I'm good," she replied through a mouthful of pie, "but you've got enemies closing in from above. Try not to ruin your jacket. I recommend evasive maneuvers. You can't see them from where you're standing, but they're everywhere!"
Alastor was about to reply, but something flew at his face, and he had to dodge. Calmly moving to the side, Alastor caught the offending object and sent it right back where it had come from without even getting a good look at it. He'd seen too many odd-shaped grenades to risk examining the thing.
His enemy tried to fly away, but he caught them in the foot. The impact caused them to spin out of control and fall to the ground. They cursed, ducking away behind the base of the orrery for shelter. They left a trail of red behind them everywhere they stepped.
That would have been all well and good, except for the fact that angels didn't bleed red.
"Open fire!" Someone screamed.
Suddenly, and quite ironically, all Hell broke loose. Angels popped up from every possible hiding place, all wielding the same weapon: Pies. Hundreds of them. Pastries flew through the air, staining the entire courtyard and every building in the vicinity with red berries and buttery crusts. On one side stood the Redeemed, and on the other was an army of angels Alastor had never met. They all shouted war cries as the air filled with the scent of baked goods.
Now quite sure that Elida was not about to be kidnapped or killed, Alastor flexed his fingers. If they wanted a fight, they'd get a fight. And lucky for him, he didn't need to steal 'ammo' from his enemies. He had magic. He could provide his own. Snapping his fingers, a tower of hot pies appeared, all decorated with a pentagram in the center and full of the most acidic citruses he could conjure.
Standing still with a confident grin on his face, Alastor let his tentacles do the work. He picked up seven pies at once and hurled them at the enemy angels. A few of them dodged, but one of them hit an angel square in the face. Their head slammed hard against a wall, leaving cracks in the building's white bricks. The indestructible angel laughed, clearly having fun. At least they were a good sport. Alastor wasn't. He assaulted the same angel with a volley of lemon and sugar until they were buried. Elida looked down on the chaos, giggling like a nymph on weed.
Marcel sported an uncharacteristically devilish smirk. Picking up one of the pies, he asked, "Want to see our secret weapon?"
"Absolutely I do," Elida grinned back.
While Mayberry opened the window, ducking just in time to avoid an incoming throw, Marcel pulled some kind of remote from his pocket. "Care to do the honors?" he offered.
"You know I can't resist a big red button!" Elida laughed. She pushed the button.
A whirr of gears and wheels sounded as the shelves full of pies began to move. They lined up, each shelf depositing the pies one by one onto a wooden conveyor belt that Elida had mistaken for a table. At the window, the conveyor belt dropped the pies onto a windmill-like trebuchet. The trebuchet threw pie after pie, impossibly fast and directed by a cackling Mayberry aiming them wherever she pleased. They'd essentially made a pastry machine-gun.
"Yippee-kai-yay, motherfucker!" Mayberry shouted over the sound of all-out war, earning a laugh and a whoop from Marcel.
Marc had thought it would be a fun idea to have a city-wide food fight. He'd taken the same guest list from the Halloween party and invited them all to come battle it out in a giant pie war. It was Redemption City's citizens versus the visitors. In hindsight, Marcel considered what an unfair advantage this gave them. The Redeemed were not only more familiar with the area, but they were used to battle and chaos. The original angels weren't. Still, he couldn't force himself to feel bad as he watched the visitors get completely annihilated by their hosts. Everyone was laughing too hard.
To absolutely no one's surprise, Alastor got carried away, but no one seemed to care. He may be wild and sadistic, but the blows he doled out were nothing to the angels. If they'd been demons, he'd have hit them hard enough to kill the poor souls. But these opponents were far more durable. They could take it. And boy, did they take it. Alastor didn't start the fight, so he was free to retaliate all he wished. He took full advantage of that fact.
Elida, despite her typically peaceful disposition, decided to join in the fun. She flew around the battlefield, shrinking into a smaller target. She didn't throw any pies, instead opting to cause anarchy with her ice. She frost-glued people's hands to pie tins, froze their feet to the goop on the ground, and turned otherwise soft ammunition into bricks of solid destruction.
Alastor watched the mayhem she wrought, impressed at her subtle ruthlessness. Everywhere she went was flooded with shouts and cries of shock. Alastor felt an increasingly recognizable tingle in places he only ever associated with her. Unholy places. Seeing her power and the havoc in her wake, Alastor felt far less disgusted with the thought of being intimately touched. He threw another pie.
Two hours of pastry pandemonium, and not a single enemy managed to get even a drop of filling onto his coat. When the pies ran out, and the battle drew to a close, Alastor was the only one in the courtyard who wasn't drenched in goo. Yawning dramatically to draw the point home, Alastor pulled his magic back into himself, gloating wordlessly to the rest of the sweet-smelling battlefield. He was the superior warrior, and everyone knew it.
Elida glided gently down to him from the sky. "What a champion. That was hot," she flirted.
"Fresh pies straight out of the oven will do that," he joked, pretending not to understand what she'd meant.
In response, she scooped a glob of berries out of a badly dented pie tin and froze it into ice cream. "For you," she sparkled sweetly.
"Why, thank you, dearest!" he accepted, enjoying the cold treat. He wondered if she'd taste like ice cream, too; but he didn't mean her lips. He kept the question to himself.
Waving goodbye to the mess and the recovering armies, they left to get some work done. The hotel guests' contracts weren't going to break themselves. They walked lazily away, portal-ing off to the archive entrance. Alastor stared adoringly at Elida's fair face while she thought out loud, detailing which contracts she wanted to focus on that day.
They walked inside, greeted once again by the cherub that openly hated Alastor. He ignored them, laser-focused on Elida. He was driven hopelessly to distraction, imagining himself doing things with her that he had never before wanted to try. But he did now. More than he expected he would. It hit him like a tidal wave, and he didn't know what to do about it.
He had a hard time focusing on the contracts. Elida sat in his lap while they worked. That wasn't abnormal on its own, it was hardly the first time. But his brain went fuzzy having her body pressed so close to him in his less than clean state of mind. She didn't react to his shortened breaths and tensed muscles. She was too focused on her job. He wondered if she noticed. He hoped she didn't. Not here. Not now. He was a gentleman, after all.
"Why are you so stiff?" she asked.
Shit. "Whatever do you mean, darling?"
"You're acting all quiet and nervous. Is something wrong?"
"I'm quite alright," he lied.
"You know you can talk to me, right?"
"I know," he confirmed.
"Is it your contract?"
"Which one?"
"You know," she said, voice lowering to a whisper, "with Lilith? We still haven't found a way out for you."
Thank goodness; she was misreading him. She didn't usually do that. "Success will come with time, I'm sure."
"I'm a little conflicted with the whole thing," she admitted. "On one hand, Luci and Charlie are the sweetest things in the world. On the other hand, Charlie's mom is enemy number one for you, and therefore me. Not to mention she just totally abandoned both of them with no word on why. But they clearly love her and want her back. It's all very complicated."
"It's not complicated for me," Alastor said darkly.
Elida kissed his cheek, "I know. Politics are the worst."
"Says the most important politician in human history," he pointed out.
"Oh… I don't know if I'd go that far," she blushed a bit.
"I would," he said honestly. "Living politicians can only have an impact on people's lives. Sure, they can cause plenty of pain and death, but their reach doesn't extend beyond the grave. Whereas with you, the success or failure of your efforts will determine the quality of people's entire eternities. I'd say that puts you at the top."
"Geez. No pressure, huh?"
"Oh hush, we both know you're up for the task."
"Only with your help," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I am at your command, love." He kissed her forehead, smirking at how she melted into a pile of gushy smiles.
Outside their door, Lilith walked by clutching a big purple bag filled with a carefully hidden halo.