Arc 1: Purgatorio

1-1

Vortex needed time.

Time to think.

Time to understand.

Preferably, time to finish his smoke.

Like, c'mon, he just got started. Not that he smoked boutique brands like his New Money boss, but Tartatus Tarsticks were hardly cheap. But no, the Sinners down the alley were fast approaching, hungry leers on their malformed faces. Vortex had seen just about every kind of fetid look in his time with Verosika, and he could tell from the gleam in these Sinner's eyes that even if there were leftovers no one, not even in Hell, would touch them with a ten-foot pole. He looked down at the kid, petrified with fear and confusion, looking back and forth between the towering hellhound and the anatomical Mad Libs scrabbling their way. He'd met humans before, usually while on the job. Horny, impulsive, usually drugged up, but that's just how Verosika's concerts rolled. Sometimes he'd catch himself looking out at the surrounding cities. Mothers and fathers out with their kids, elders sitting on park benches, normal people walking their pets, all faintly repulsed by the debauchery taking place around the stage. Compared to the abject slums of Imp City and the self-perpetuating nightmare that was Pride, those cozy, peaceful places outside his boss' influence had always seemed… nice. Quiet and calm. Sometimes he'd feel the urge to go for walkies and see just what kind of place humans called home.

"Smell that, Mugsy?" The hunchbacked Sinner gurgled. "Ain't no virgin, but close enough!"

"Gently used, Kaph," said the rotten bluebird, 'Mugsy'. "An' I bet he's a virgin in other ways, gegh-heh-heh!"

"O-o-oh sh-sh-shiiit!" The boy cried, scrambling away from them on his bottom and towards Vortex. "W-what are those things?!"

Vortex examined his cigarette, weighing his options.

"Phoo!" Kaph grunted, cocking his head as he approached. "See them eyes? Green like Mammon's wallet! And such fine bone-structure!"

"Pah!" Mugsy scoffed. "You 'n' I know damn well you don't care how pretty yer meat is, just that it screams when you bite it!"

'Damn it…' Vortex flicked his tarstick aside and stepped out in front of the boy. "Fuck off."

The Sinners stopped, apparently having just now registered the hellhound's presence; many such cases.

"Ey!" Kaph snarled. "You fuck off, ringscraper!"

"Yeah!" Snapped Mugsy. "We called dibs!"

"I didn't hear no call," said Vortex, his tone cold. "In fact: dibs. There. He landed closer to me, anyway."

"Mutt's gotta big bark," said Kaph, sneering. "We gonna let 'im yap?"

"Fuckin' hellborn trash tellin' us what's what?" Mugsy growled, feathered fingers bunching into fists. "Maybe we teach him some new tricks?"

"Maybe we should."

Vortex sighed, shaking his head. "Alright."

The hulking hellhound lunged forward, fist cocked at his side. He unleashed a brutal uppercut into the bird-creature's solar plexus, lifting him off his feet. Mugsy wheezed, his eyes bulging, his legs giving out the second his feet touched the ground. Vortex, with a snapping sinewy speed almost impossible for someone his size, withdrew his fist, raising his arm in the air before smashing his elbow into the back of the bird-demon's skull. Mugsy's face slammed into the pavement, the demon collapsing into a limp pile on the ground. Before the Sinner had even settled, Vortex sidestepped and launched a straight snap-punch into the hunchback's face, crushing his hooked-nose flat with a wet crunch. As the Sinner stumbled backwards, his hands to his face, the hellhound stepped forward and hooked a paw behind his backfoot, yanking it out and sending Kaph tumbling backwards. The hunchback, still clutching the lump of skin and bone shards that used to be his nose, grunted as he hit the ground.

"Gaaargh!" Kaph cried out as Vortex loomed, bloody hand extended. "H-Have mercy!"

Vortex decided he didn't want to hear the grating sound of the Faller's voice anymore and stomped down between his legs, feeling things crunch beneath his paw. A gratifying yowl echoed off the walls of the alley. Kaph stopped screaming after a moment and curled into a ball, gurgling and groaning.

"How's that for a trick, Faller?" Vortex said, grinning.

The Sinners had no witty retort besides vomiting.

"Phew!" Vortex sighed, pulling out another tarstick and lighting it. "It's too late in the day for this shit."

"Uhhhhhhh…" A shrill, shocked voice replied.

He turned to see the boy, the human boy, eyes staring out from behind a thick sheet of curly orange hair, his already pale skin now a pallor, his mouth hanging open. Vortex made his way over and crouched, blowing a cloud of smoke into the boy's face, ceasing his dumbfounded droning with a series of ragged coughs.

"You're human?" Vortex said, reaching out and prodding the lad with a finger. "You feel human. You smell human. What're you doing here?"

The human boy waved away the smoke, still coughing. "I-I- *cough-cough* I don't even know where the hell here is!"

"Yep."

"What?"

"Hell." Vortex smirked. "You got it."

The boy turned paler, somehow, looking around at the alley, at the Sinners, at Vortex. "H-Hell?"

"Hell," said Vortex, nodding. "Now, you're going to tell me exactly how you got here." His eyes were narrowed with concern and suspicion. "Humans, as in the ones with theiroriginal bodies, don't just show up Down Here. Something's gone fucky. So, if you please, explain."

"I-I-I don't know!" The boy cried, trying to get up. "Honest! I have no idea! I-like… When did-"

"Time out kid." Vortex effortlessly shoved the boy back onto his butt. "Sit. Don't move."

The hellhound leaned in, sniffing. His hair, his clothes, his skin, his breath. If someone was playing a game, they were going through an awful lot of trouble. Vortex knew the mortal realm, knew mortals, their scents. Hell held a particular odor of sulfur and a mild hint of artificial sweetener, clear as a bell and almost impossible to remove. The Mortal Realm was full of life, proper life, and was rich and dense in its many flavors. This kid was human alright. Perhaps 18 years old, not a virgin but hardly Don Juan, and had the unmistakable hygiene practices of a geek.

Vortex paused. This shit was way above his paygrade. He didn't even want to know what had gone down for a human-complete-with-meatsuit to drop into Hell, but he knew it had to have been some serious JuJu. This kid's heart and wedding-tackle would land bank on the wet market, to say nothing of certain other unspoiled sections of his anatomy. Not that Vortex would do such a thing, he was simply postulating the reasons for a human to have been brought to Hell.

No.

Any demon who could pull off such a thing wouldn't drop their product in an alleyway in Imp City… unless something went tits-up. Could be said interested parties were en route, ready and willing to make his day even more of a shitshow than it already was! He may be Verosika Mayday's top bodyguard, but bringing a human to Hell requires some serious horsepower, the kind that wouldn't go down with a few well-placed punches. Fuck, stuff like this could involve the bluebloods. Demon Royalty. Verosika's done a few concerts when they're in attendance and-

Hold on…

Verosika.

Maybe, if he brought this kid to her, told her what happened, informed her as to the implications, then maybe, just maybe, she'd use her Asmodean crystal to send the ginger headache back where he belonged! Maybe he'd be able to get home in time for dinner with his girl after all!

He just needed to check one thing…

Vortex suddenly reached out, pushing the cowering boy's bangs back away from his face. The alley lit up with a glow, sparkles hung in the air, as Vortex felt his – decidedly het-leaning, mind you – heart skip a beat, his eyes wide, jaw coming unhinged as his cigarette fell out.

Was this… what some Sinners described as… finding god?

Or was this finding out that maaaaybe there's a little bit of gay in anyone.

"Whoa." He uttered, feeling his cheeks burn up as he shook his head to refocus.

He let the bangs fall back in place, shuttering the lad's beauty. Those intense, intelligent green eyes. That sharp, regal nose. Those high cheekbones and elegant, pointed chin. All wrapped up in smooth, pale skin perfectly dusted with freckles, like kisses from an angel, the blemishes only adding to the allure. The boy shied away, brushing his hair over his eyes, looking nervous and uncomfortable as Vortex loomed to his full height.

Yeah.

No.

His boss and her sluts would pass this kid around like a joint, quite literally sucking him dry until only ashes remained. And likely to grind his pelvis into paste while they did.

What to do?

The hulking hellhound almost jumped when his phone buzzed. It was Verosika, her text replete with mistakes and incomprehensible autocorrects. He didn't need to be able to read it to know something was up. If he had to guess, she was probably due with her meeting with King Ozzie a good deal sooner than she thought. He looked down at the kid, who was still trembling, mouth open with shock as he looked around.

Maybe he could just… leave him here? Tell him to hide and stay put, come back for him later. What are the odds some other disgusting pervert or blood hungry cannibal would happen across him?

"Look out!" The boy cried, pointing.

"FUCKING HELLBORN MUTT!" Mugsy roared, leaping through the air, talons flexing.

Vortex unsheathed his angelic Bowie knife, not needing to look as he spun about, out of the way of the bird-Sinner as he lunged by, before burying the blade to the handle in the back of the Sinner's skull with a dull 'thunk'. Mugsy's eyes flashed magenta as he Soul was annihilated, his body crumpling to the ground like a stringless puppet. He withdrew the Bowie and flipped it in the air, grabbing it by the blade and throwing it down the alley, straight into the gnarled forehead of Kaph as he collected himself off the ground. He sighed and walked over retrieving his knife, the demonic blood and brain matter sizzling on the holy metal, evaporating completely from its flawlessly polished surface. A high-pitched keening drew his attention, the human boy was staring at Mugsy's corpse, horror and curiosity clear on his face as he nudged the limp body with his sneaker-shod foot.

"I-is he…" the kid squeaked. "D-dead?"

Vortex rose to his feet, ear flat. What business was it of his what happened to this brat? Why should he care? Humans who died more often than not showed up here, becoming Sinners, Fallers, shit-stinking bastards just like the two he had dispatched. Maybe this kid was just like them? Who knows, maybe if he bit it down here he'd be right back a second later?

"He's double dead," he drawled. "Given he-"

"You didn't have to kill them!" The kid said, his voice suddenly surprisingly fierce as he interrupted the hellhound. "You could have just beat them up some more!"

Vortex blinked, shocked. He'd bet good money this kid didn't even know those Sinners used to be human, like him. For all he knew, they were just a pair of monsters! But he still cared.

His phone buzzed again, it read: 'to lust dubbletime i fickwd up the times ozzies weight in amd pissed!'

He looked back over to the kid, who was cautiously examining the body, and sighed, shaking his head. "What're you doing, man… this is a bad idea. A shit fuckin' idea…" he muttered to himself.

He set off for the mouth of the ally, grabbing the kid by the scruff and plucking him off the ground as he did. The boy yelped, curling into a ball like a kitten as the enormous hellhound power-walked across the parking lot, approaching a hot pink Cadillac. His fist thudded against the back of the car and the trunk popped open. In it was a spare tire, stacks of high-gloss photos of Verosika – for autographs, natch – and a wide assortment of succubus kit, sex-toys, massagers, lube, and fuzzy handcuffs. He tossed the kid into the boot, silencing his stammering with a growl.

"Listen here, kid," said Vortex, baring his fangs. "You stay quiet, you stay still, you don't draw attention to yourself. I'll have you out of here in a jiffy and get you somewhere safe. Until then, you stay put, you stay quiet, and maybe you'll stay alive. Got that?"

The boy pressed his lips together, nodding furiously.

"Good." He reached up to slam the trunk shut. "Watch your head."

"W-wait!" The kid cried. "Uh… thanks for, uh, all that. W-what's your name?"

"Vortex," he replied. "You?"

"B-Briefers Rock," said the kid, trying to smile. "My friends call me Brief."

"Pleased to meet you, Brief," said Vortex, his ears perking up as the door flew open. "Now, shut up and don't make a ruckus."

With that, he slammed the trunk shut. Verosika was practically running across the parking lot. "Get the motor running!"

He hopped into the driver's seat and started the engine. Verosika leapt over and sat down, frantically patting his shoulder. "Go go go!"

The Cadillac peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing as it drifted into traffic and roared down the street.

"We heading to Lust?" He said

"Fast as you can!" She said, hurriedly applying lipstick and make-up in the mirror. "To Ozzie's! He's been waiting for five minutes already!"

If there was one demon who didn't like to wait, it was Asmodeus, except when he was edging, that is. Still, the kid in the back… He knew Sinners couldn't access the other rings, but what about humans? Would the kid in the trunk hit the barrier as they drove through? He once saw what happened when Sinners tried to smuggle themselves out of Pride, the inside of whatever they were hiding resembled a bomb going off in a hamburger factory!
"Uh, hey, my place is on the way," he said. "Can I drop off some things, maybe?"

"Fuck that!" Verosika snapped. "We're hauling ass to Lust, no stops! We keep him waiting any longer and it's your holes and mine he's fisting tonight, Texxy! That clear?"

Vortex grimaced, hoping that the kid would be alright, but also now preoccupied with the possibility his plans for tonight would involve a very different kind of romance. "Crystal."

"Floor it!"

(X)

The line to the elevator was brutal, as usual, but being Verosika Mayday had its perks. A flash of a smile and her ID, and they were quickly shuffled off into the VIP lane. The Cadillac rolled onto the platform, the succubus heaving a relieved sigh.

"Phew!" She said, delicately dabbing the sweat from her brow, as not to smudge her make-up. "Making good time. Sweet driving back there, Tex. Getting us up on two wheels to slip between traffic? Mwah!"

He smirked as best he could, this old dog still had some tricks. Still, now that he was probably not going to be getting fisted to death by a 15ft tall Prince of Sin, his thoughts drifted inexorably back to the human brat in the trunk. He hoped the kid would be okay… but if he wasn't, it'd probably be his job to clean up the mess, after. Wouldn't leave much time to make dinner. Damn. Nebula would be pissed. What would he tell Verosika when they popped the trunk to find over a hundred pounds of meat puree?

'Sorry, ma'am,' he imagined himself saying. 'Maybe say 'some Faller musta gotten in there' Yeah. Yeah, that's why I was at the trunk when she came out. Like, I heard something and was checking it out but we had to run? She'd buy that.'

"Hey…" She said, examining her burly bodyguard. "You got blood on you."

"O-oh?" He looked down at his hands, streaked with blood, and splatters of his crisscrossed his vest. "Uh, yeah, tuned up some Fallers while I was having my smoke."

She eyed him up for a moment, leaning in, sniffing. "You smell like… a human?"

Shit.

He shrugged, hoping he was maintaining his chill demeanor. "They musta been fresh."

"Real fresh," she said, her eyes narrowing. "You seem… nervous."

His ears went flat, glancing over at her with his good eye, fingers digging into the leather cover on the steering wheel, saying nothing.

Verosika studied him for a moment before a smile spread across her face. "You are nervous! Ha! Guess I finally know what it takes to break through that cool exterior of yours! Don't sweat it, Texxy, Ozzie's actually pretty chill."

Phew! "Uh, yeah? Yeah. That's, uh–ahem! Well, it's not every day someone like me meets, y'know, one of the Seven Deadly Sins."

Verosika chuckled and shook her head, patting his rippling shoulder, her hand lingering just a smidge too long. "Don't worry your handsome little head about it, Vortex. All you gotta do is answer his questions and look pretty. He'll have filled up on chewing out my ass before he gets to you."
"Right…"

The platform lurched as the elevator moved down. Vortex waited anxiously as they approached the barrier. Best case scenario? The kid would be fine and he'd have to… do whatever the fuck it was he was going to do with him. Worst case? Well, he'd just have to work late hosing out the trunk. The barrier buzzed up through the platform, the car, its occupants, a sensation not unlike a sweep of static. His ear cocked back, listening for any wet, meaty sounds, screams, or whatever it was the barrier did to Sinners.

Nothing.

'Either it don't work on humans, or I just does what it does quietly,' he thought to himself. 'Guess I'll find out.'

The platform shuddered as they came to a stop, the bay doors opening, disgorging the countless vehicles parked there. Verosika's VIP status allowed her to bypass the tollbooth and customs completely, the Cadillac speeding off towards the highway. Before long, they were at Ozzie's, the surprisingly restrained abode of the King of Lust. Through some magic or spell or just some very savvy city-planning, go straight in Lust for long enough and you'd wind up at Ozzie's eventually. From the outside it looked like any big name club, a really big name one, with a massive neon sign, a steepled tent roof, and a literally unending line of attendees waiting outside. While flashy and suitably hopping for a club, it hardly looked to be the throne of a King of Hell. Other Icons of Sin, like Belphegor and Mammon, had enormous, garish palaces of quite literally mountainous size. While Vortex didn't doubt that Asmodeus himself had a preposterously lavish estate somewhere, his personal club gave the impression of a tasteful patron of the lustful arts.

At least, on the outside.

Vortex had heard there were levels below the venue, allowing one to quite literally sink into the depths of depravity and hedonism. The sort of stuff Yula would deem 'a gnat's foreskin outside our budget'.

The Cadillac rolled to a stop outside the underground parking area, Verosika getting them in with a glance and a scowl. They pulled into her spot and Vortex shut off the engine as his boss hurriedly got out.

"C'mon, Tex!" She said, heading for the entrance. "You can wait in the lounge while I tongue Ozzie's balls, lube him up for ya!"

He was about 60% sure she was being facetious, but only that. "Actually, boss, I was feeling a bit of play in the front left wheel. Mind if I give it a look?"

"Ugggggggh Fuck this day! Yeah, sure, do your thing." She groaned, exacerbated, before flicking him her VIP card, which he caught. "I don't need it, they know me here. Flash that and you'll get anywhere and anything you like, put it on my tab. Just don't let me walk out of Ozzie's office and catch you balls deep in some femboy!"

He smiled on the outside at this, putting the card in his pocket. "Thanks, Boss. Can I get you anything at the bar?"

"Everclear Titty Twister, no ice!" She called out as she booked it across the parking garage. "Double strength!"

Vortex waited a few moments after she was through the door, just in case she barged back in. When she didn't, he hurried over to the trunk, hesitating for a second before swinging it open.

The kid was still there, all in one piece. Somehow, between here and there, the kid had managed to don a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, fuzzy shackles on his ankles, and a bone-shaped ball-gag. At some point, he'd even managed to get peppered with lipstick kiss marks, likely from the mouth-shaped fleshlight presently nestled between his legs.

"Thank goodness…" He sighed. "Smooth ride, kid?"

"Mphhrg mmmrph grrrgh!" He mumbled through the gag.

Vortex chuckled and unlocked the cuffs and shackles, Brief wasted no time in undoing the gag and spitting it out. "Did we just run a Hot Wheelz course? Where did you learn to drive?!"

"Hell."

"Oh, right."

"Alright kid, there's been a slight detour," said Vortex, looking around. "I don't know how long we're gonna be here, but it's really, really fucking important that you don't make a scene. This is a bad place for a human to be."

"Where are we?"

Vortex paused, what would be the best way to get this kid to not fuck about and find out? "We're in the Ring of Lust, where Salo is a family film and Clive Barker is considered quaint. Specifically, we're at the personal club of Asmodeus, the King and Personification of Lust. If you get found here… well, you're a geek, you know about 40K?"

Brief gulped and nodded. "A-are we talking Dark Eldar or Slaanesh?"

'Nerd.' Vortex shook his head. "Kid, imagine that but ten times worse and its not fictional. So, yeah. Shut up."

Vortex reached up to shut the trunk when Brief stopped him. "What if I have to pee?"

"Don't."

Brief moaned. "Can I at least have something to read? …Th-that isn't porn, preferably."

Vortex sighed and rolled his eyes, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his personal phone. "Here. Password is YULA4EVR. Keep it muted, don't take any calls or answer any texts. And no streaming sites! If my data bill is fucked this month, I'll know it was you!" He bared his fangs at the end for emphasis.

"Y-yes sir!" Brief stammered, nodding. "Th-thank you sir!"

The black fitted hound sighed, and his later intimidation aura settled down.

He couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed with this kid for long, it seems…

"Whatever."

With that he slammed the trunk shut and made his way for the entrance. 'What the fuck am I doing…?'

Ozzie's was packed, of course, but not crowded. Every table was full or reserved, but no one was walking over each other. Hellborn of means lounged about, celebrities and high-end crimelords rubbed shoulders, important officials of the Goetia regime sat opposite lesser royals, discussing… whatever. Vortex flashed the VIP card and took a seat at the bar. The bartender grunted and eyed up the hellhound, reaching under the bar and producing a bottle of Cerberus Lager. Vortex nodded, smirking; maybe it was a stereotype, but he couldn't deny his love of the stuff. The bartender capped the bottle and pushed it his way before going back to cleaning glasses. Vortex took a hearty slug of the brew, savoring the bitter, slightly savory flavor. He sighed in relief as the 16% alcohol warmed his gullet. He turned around and drank in the sights as he nursed his beer. Girls and boys ground on poles to thudding, erotic bass as patrons moshed on the dance floor. Booze and drugs and magic flowed as the first layer of Ozzie's hopped. He noticed various patrons breaking off from the festivities, either heading up to the private rooms in the loft, or to an elevator to take them to the lower, more permissive levels. As a hellhound, Vortex would admit to a degree of curiosity as to what, exactly, went on in the lower levels, what depravity and hedonism could possibly be seen as 'in poor taste' for the main floor. He shuddered at the hypotheticals his mind conjured, deciding that even with Verosika's card and her footing the tab, there were just some things he just didn't care to know. Moving hastily on from the mental image he had given himself, he ruminated instead on the turn his life had taken as of late.

There was a fuckinghuman kid in his trunk. And one clearly in Hell against his will.

He took a bigger swig, grimacing.

Where had he come from? Earth, duh. But how? Asmodean crystals the likes of which succubi used to reach the mortal realm were out of the question; by design they could not allow a human's physical form to manifest in Hell. That left a Goetian grimoire and the portals they conjured, or maybe even some other mystical gewgaw a lowly hound like him could never even imagine. That alone narrowed the list of potential culprits down to particularly ambitious Overlords, the Goetia, or some other horrifyingly powerful member of Lucifer's Inner Circle, like the Nephilim, the Samyaza, or the fucking Seven.

Humans don't just show up in Hell, after all, so someone out there brought him here. When the list of suspects starts at 'walking nightmare' and gets worse from there, it was time to throw in the towel. Or ask for a pay bump, at least.

Speaking of pay, or rather, the person who paid him, a familiar brand of perfume began to make itself known in the air. "Barkeep. One Everclear Titty Twister, double-strength."

The barkeep grunted, nodding. He pulled out a bottle of grain alcohol and poured two shots into a mixer, followed by a double shot of lemon juice and a full pipette of Wrath pepper tincture. He shook the vile mixture and poured it into a tall glass filled with ice, flicking it forward. Vortex grabbed the glass and slid it off to his side as Verosika Mayday took the stool next to him, wordlessly grabbing the glass and knocking the whole thing back in a single swig.

"Anudda one," she hissed, grimacing. "And don't skimp on the heat, titfucker."

The bartender whistled, impressed, and mixed another.

"So," said Vortex. "How'd it go?"

"Oh, the usual," she said, airly. "Made me get on my knees and beg for my life and the integrity of my holes, kiss his feet, lick his boots, blah-blah-blah. Y'know, the usual formalities."

That tracked. "What did he want to talk about?"

"Quarterly review, term goals, album sales, and potential venues for my next tour. Also, he wants me to drop by tomorrow night for a guest appearance. Probably a private show for a buddy, or some shit like that," she said, grabbing her second drink, electing to actually sip it this time. "Oh, yeah! He wants me to compose the score for the next big Valentino fuckfest. So that'll mean spending time at the studios, working with the director and writer, which means…"

He nodded. "You'll need some security."

"Some extra security," she said, winking at him. "Apparently Val's been in a shit fuckin' mood ever since his bottom bitch bailed on him. Not that I don't trust your mad skills, we'll just need some extra muscle. That's what he wants to talk to you about, see if you can recommend anyone, or vet the selection at least. Can you think of any bad boys down for a good time and a fat paycheck?"

Vortex nodded. "A few. When does he want to talk to me?"

"ASAP," she said, smirking. "And unless you want your sphinct to become an o-ring, you'll knock back that dog piss doubletime and head on up!"

Vortex knocked the liter bottle back, his adam's apple bobbing as he chugged. He wiped off his muzzle with a light burp and got to his feet. "Back in a bit, ma'am."

"Don't drop the soap!"

He pretended he couldn't feel her eyes on his rump as he walked away, or hear her mutter. "Hate seein' him leave… looove watchin' him go."

Vortex ascended the staircase to the upper mezzanine, walking through another, smaller VIP lounge. Powerful demons watched him pass by, grinning toothily as he approached the entrance to their master's office. It was immense, an ornate gothic double-door some twenty feet high, with glowing stained glass windows that leered like lustful eyes. He cleared his throat and reached out to knock when–

–The next instant he found himself inside, standing before a carved oak desk the size of a panel-van. Stooping behind the desk, dressed in a broad-shouldered blue vest, was Asmodeus, manifestation of the Sin of Lust and one of the Seven Kings of Hell itself. He was immense, 15 feet tall and built like a truck, with a huge glowing teal mane in which his two additional faces flickered like ghosts. His face, his proper one that is, was canted down, his expression neutral, the quill in his hand bobbed and weaved, pen scratching paper.

"The door's open," he said, his voice deep and sonorous. "Come in."

"Uh…"

He held up a taloned finger the size of an imp's arm, prompting Vortex to shut his mouth with a 'clop'. For some time the only sound in the office was the dry scratching of quill and parchment. He hummed to himself as he finished up whatever it was he was doing, signing it with an elegant flourish.
"Ah!" The titanic rooster-demon smiled and held up the paper, evidently pleased with it. "Magnifique! Here, what do you think?"

On the parchment was an, admittedly, exquisite portrait of Vortex. He was splayed out on a beautiful chez lounge, one arm resting on the cushion over his head, the other coquettishly brushing his ear back, on his face an expression of aroused vulnerability. He wore a heart-shaped diamond necklace and nothing else. Vortex noted, with a degree of concern, that Asmodeus even added the star-shaped spot he bore on his upper inner-thigh. Nebula had dubbed it her 'lucky star' because it always led her where she wanted to go. Not many people knew about that particular birthmark.

"It's, uh, very… detailed," said Vortex, before remembering. "Uh, Your Majesty!"

"Texy, please!" Asmodeus tittered, casually blowing hellfire into the parchment, incinerating it, the ash and smoke dancing in the air before vanishing entirely. "Call me Ozzie!"

"Er, yes, You–uh, yes, Ozzie. Thank you." Vortex very badly wanted a drink right then.

"Are you alright?" The massive Demon King said, sounding convincingly concerned. "You look a bit flush."

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Nervous?" He crooned, a hint of that predatory glee creeping into his voice. "Care for a drink?"

"I…" Vortex looked down at his hand, in it a tall, cool glass of amber lager. "…Thanks."

He sipped it – Cerberus Lager, natch – and Asmodeus spoke. "You're probably wondering why I called you in here. Well, you see, I've been watching you for quite some time now, Texy. Quite some time. Oh, my sweet little sour-peach, Sikky, goes on and on about your talents! Singing your praises like a coked up canary, laws yes! She swears up and down you could guard a burger from Beelzebub herself! What do you think of that, Texy?"

"I think she's being extremely generous, sir," he said, setting the beer down on the armrest. "I'm a good bodyguard, I'll brag that much. I have an eye for faces and a nose for trouble, but I know my scope."

"Oh, I agree," said Asmodeus, weaving his fingers together. "Good or no, you're still just a hellhound, and my little pop-princess will need a liiitle more horsepower if she's going to waltz about Valentino's studio. Not that I think that coatrack in a pimpsuit would try anything, you understand, it's just that Sikky can rub some people the wrong way, especially when she's composing."

'If by 'rubs the wrong way' you mean 'she has the personality of a cheesegrater' yeah, that's Verosika,' he didn't say, instead saying: "I'll do what I can to keep her safe."

Asmodeus' smile widened. "You wouldn't object to accepting a little back-up, would you?"

"Not at all."

"How would you feel about working with Sinners?"

He shrugged. "Depends on how they feel about working with me."

"Good answer." Asmodeus winked. "Don't worry, I'll make sure they know who's boss."

Vortex cocked his head. "Boss, sir?"

"That's right, Texy." He reached down, poking Vortex in his broad chest with a white talon the size of his Bowie knife. "I'm making it official. You'll be head of security detail while Verosika's composing the soundtrack. You set the schedules, you scope out the locations, you select your team. You'll be the boss. The big shot! You say jump, they'll ask 'off which bridge?' If any of them give you lip, give you sass…" Asmodeus chuckled, his voice deepening, taking on a flanging, booming quality as his enormous hand curled into a mitt the size of a beach ball. "A̟̼̝n͍̙d̻͎̝ I͖̦͚'̡̻͉l̢͇͕l͙̺ s͔͕̙h̞͚͜o͓͉v̠̫̟e̪̫͖ m͔̠͕y͚̪̼ f̦̼͎i̦͚͜s̟͉͖t̼͖̫ r̞͚̦i͚͓̼g̞͖͍h̼͖̻t͔̦ u͉̘͜p̝̠̘ t̢͔̙h̡̦̪e̞͖͜i͓͔͉r̦͓̘ a͔̻s͚̻s̟͙̺!̢̞͙ Sound good?"

Vortex blinked, shocked; head of security? A boss? Him? "Uh…"

"You'll be entitled to a substantial raise, of course," said Asmodeus, leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled. "To make it worth your time."

"I… I don't know what to say My Lord, I-"

"Ozzie, darling." The tall Demon Prince oiled. "And 'yes' would be nice. 'Yes, thank you' if you really wanna butter my biscuits~."

"Ozzie, umm, forgive me sir, I… I appreciate this greatly. And, I won't let you down." Vortex said. "…Yes, thank you."

"I'm so glad we are in agreement, my heckin' doggo," chuckled Asmodeus, before clapping his hand to his cheek, a maudlin look of shock on his face. "Oh! But look at you! Your shoulders look so tense. And those stress-lines! You're wound tighter than an imp in a cerberus kennel!" He smirked, leaning in as Vortex felt that professional pride burn away before the leering rooster Fallen. "Why don't you stick around? Relax and unwind for a spell?"

"I…" the hound gulped. "I would love to, Ozzie, but I had other arrangements planned for tonight. Sir."

"Oh? I'm sure they can wait. Too much stress is bad for you, you know…" Ozzie purred, his talons clicking along his desk as he loomed over the hound. "If you like I can call some of my finest masseuses. They are… experts at working out tension."

"I have a girlfriend, sir." Vortex blurted out. The rooster demon cocked his head, as though trying to connect these two concepts. "No offense, but she's got first dibs on all my stress and tension and she gets, er, territorial."

The ghost-like skulls looked back at each other and then at Vortex, clearly perplexed.

"So… you swing one way, then?" Asmodeus said, confused, then amused. "Well, spaghetti's straight before it gets wet, isn't it?"

"Maybe, sir, but if I'm going to enjoy my time in Lust, I'd rather have my girl with me when I do. As a couple's night," Vortex said, feeling pressured and his heart pounding in his chest as he was firing this shit on the fly. "I guess you could say I'm old fashioned."

'Please take it please take it please please please' he mentally prayed. The towering demon shrugged.

"Ha! Verosika was right about you, Texy," he giggled, poking at his chest. "You are one tough nut to bust. I can only imagine the gooey goodness you and your lady indulge in~" he purred as he began to stroke Vortex's chin with said talon, his emerald hellfire-like eyes looking right into Vortex' singular red one. "And I have a very… vivid imagination."

When will this night fucking end!?

"Oh, yes, Ozzie. We go hog wild, lemme tell you." The hellhound barked out a laugh, hoping it sounded authentic. "Can't buy what she's selling, not even here!"

"Careful now, Texy, you have my curiosity, but talk like that might get my attention! Anyway, in that case, don't let li'l ol' me keep you. You'll hear from me through Verosika, she'll have my instructions to relay to you as well." The rooster demon leaned back in his suave heart-shaped chair before leaning forward again, suddenly. "Oh, wait! One more thing… she mentioned how you seemed very anxious on the ride down here. Why, you even had the sheer audacity to ask for a detour, hoho~" Vortex felt ice-cold as Asmodeus continued to talk. "And keep me… waiting." His side skulls glared at him, but his main head kept smirking, a predatory gleam in his lantern eyes. "Enlighten me then, what could possibly compel a demon to take such a risk?"

"Those arrangements I mentioned, sir," Vortex replied. "It's something me and my girlfriend have been planning for a few weeks now. A Hound Party for tomorrow night." There, some truth. "I promised her I'd help her pick out the music, food, and all that jazz. I keep my promises."

"Hmmm… Punctual, dedicated, loyal, even when planning fun." Asmodeus nodded as one of his side skulls looked to the side and perked up with joy. The massive demon grabbed his phone and glanced, smiling. "Very well, off you pop. I have my own plans and plots, don't let me keep you, you adawable widdle pupper you~" he crooned, pinching Vortex's cheek with 8-inch alabaster talons.

Ouch.

"T-thank you my lo-I mean, Ozzie." Vortex rose from his chair and bowed. "For your time, and the job."

"Don't mention it, Muscles~" Asmodeus crooned, a leer crawling across all his faces. "Be sure to send your girlfriend my regards. Bring her around sometime! She must be quite a woman, that Yula."

Vortex felt his guts churn like icy snakes; he even knew her nickname? "She's… really something. We'd be honored, Sir."

The demon prince nodded, dialing the phone and shooing him away. Vortex walked calmly towards the door and–

–He stumbled onto the dance floor, surrounded by coked-up patrons, now on the main level. He looked up at the mezzanine as an incubus dressed only in glo-rings ground into his lap, seeing Ozzie's entourage cackling with vicious amusement. A chill raced up his spine and he power walked to the bar, collecting his now very soused boss. Time to get the fuck out of here!

(X)

Ozzie set down the phone. The Vees correspondent had sounded very pleased to deliver the good news to their bosses. The vulgarians had some choice info for him, and he was happy to pay their meager price if it meant he could get his talons on his wayward agent. That masochistic fool had cost him dearly, and one way or another Asmodeus would get his satisfaction.

The door swung inward with a 'bang', kicked open by a retracting mechanical leg. Two articulated metal arms streaked in, long and thin, coiling on themselves like ribbons. A slender, brightly-colored imp rushed into his office, spinning and twirling along the coils of his arms like a car on a rollercoaster. He launched himself through the air, pulling into a backwards somersault and landing on his desk with a clownish flourish. Only one being in all of Hell was so bold: Fizzarolli, Hell's most famous entertainer.

"Whoa-ho-ho-heeeeya Big Ozzie!" Fizz crowed, pulling into a florid bow, his mechanical arm extending and coiling behind his back, waggling his fingers in greetings. "Back from my big show in Pride and thought I'd give my Big Bad Cock-a-doodle a tickle!"

Asmodeus smiled; nothing could bring a true grin to his face like his capering little love-clown. "Fizzy-Pop! How was Helsa's birthday party?"

"Eeeegh…" The cybernetic jester grumbled, folding his arms. "Seviathan Von Eldritch crashed it. Literally. Crashed a jet-fighter right through the roof of the main hall and stumbled out with some bimbo, high off his ass! He and Helsa started scrapping right there on the dance floor. Looked like a tornado of tentacles and teeth! Dismembered, like, thirty guests by accident. Overall, 6/10, pretty mid party." He said with a wave of a flat hand.

"Oh, sorry to hear that," said Asmodeus, contrite. "Freddy called in a favor and you know me, a big ol' softie! I'll make sure your next gig is something worthy of your talents."

"Eh, Wasn't all bad. Managed to bang a few stuffy broads, introduced a princeling to buttstuff on Helsa's pillow, so not a total loss! Ha-ha-ha!" He said, his nimble prosthetics flowing through all the appropriate gesticulations, a manic grin on his face. "I'll letcha know if she gets pinkeye in a day or two!"
Asmodeus chuckled and offered his hand, the flexible cyborg slithered up his arm like a snake and plopped down on his shoulder. "Saw Sikko and her dishy-doggie pullin' outta here! She back on the sauce again or what?"

"Oh? No! Well, yes, but that's not why I called them in here."

"Them?" Fizzarolli inquired, bells jingling as he cocked his head. "You talked to the dog?"

"Now, now, Fizzy," Asmodeus chided playfully, scratching his chin with a talon. "His name is Vortex. He's just very… upright."

Fizzarolli's face curled into a malicious leer. "More fun to bend over and break in, then! Ha ha ha!"

"In time, monkey, but for now he'll do as Verosika's head of security while she's working with the Vees." The cyborg Imp whipped his head towards him fast, eyes wide.

"Wait wait wait, hold up!" Fizzarolli said, actually surprised. "A hellhound will be guarding Sikko from Sinners? Don't get me wrong, the pooch looks like he's got a mean bite, but the Vees don't hire chumps!"

Asmodeus sighed and shook his head. "They wanted Verosika to compose a soundtrack for their next big smut picture, for publicity or something. Putting that lunk in charge was the only way she'd agree to it." He said with a shrug, sitting in his heart chair.

"Oooh~" Fizzarolli crooned, hands to his cheeks in faux-scandal. "Does Sikko wanna play Boy Scouts with Rin-Tin-Tank!?"

Asmodeus cocked an eyebrow, curious. "Play Boy Scouts?"

Fizzarolli's arms coiled and twisted into a familiar, very canine, shape giggling maliciously before licking his lips. "Tyin' knots."

Asmodeus threw his head back and laughed heartily, fist slamming down on the robust desk with seismic force, shaking Ozzie's on its foundations. "Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! That's a good one! Oh, Fizzy-Pop, you always know how to make me laugh! Oh… but yes, I assume. He's very faithful to his girlfriend, you see, and I bet he's been stonewalling Sikky for some time now. You know how she is when she doesn't get what she wants."

"Oooh~ Vortex~ save me from the awful, awful Sinners~" Fizzarolli warbled in a crude falsetto, making big wide puppy eyes as he prayed. "Make me feel safe with your big, fat, throbbing–hey, waitaminute." His act over, he turned back to his patron and lover with confusion on his face. "Why're you havin' Verosika compose shit for the Vees? That Valentino ankle-grabber's your biggest rival in Pride!"

Asmodeus sighed and reclined in his seat. "Vox, that flickering flat-faced fool, saw something with his network. Something important. Something of mine. Verosika creating a soundtrack for their smut-epic was their price, and one I was happy to pay."

"Whoa…" Fizzarolli whistled, impressed. "Must be real valuable for you to give those peasants the time of day!"

"Oh yes, Fizzy-Pop… Very important," Asmodeus growled, his titanic demonic might caused the air to ionize, his bottomless fury bubbling to the surface as electricity sparked across every metal surface in the room. "Now, I'm not one to step on Ol' Scratch's hooves, but for this particular person… well, I think I'll borrow the Crown of Wrath for a spell~"

"Huh?" Fizzarolli said, only slightly unnerved at the Demon King's barely contained fury.

"Revenge, Sugar-Borg," Asmodeus said, sweetly, patting him on the head. "Retribution. An old friend has dropped in from out of town and D̼͔͇a͇̻d̺͜͜d͙̠̝y̟̫͖'̟̫͜s̪͉ b̢̢̦o̝͔͎u͖̻͍t̪͚̦t͕̼a̪͍̠ m̞͕͎a̢̞̠k̻͎͙e̡̠̝ a̢̫͎ b͎̘͜o̙͇͎o̞̺͇t̫͍͜y̞̺͕-̺͕͚c̫͇a̢̺̝l͖̠͔l̠̞͙!̢͔"

Fizzarolli's face split into a vicious smile, his eyes lighting up. "Can I watch?"

"You can film it!" Asmodeus bellowed, getting to his feet and heading for the door. "It's gonna be my magnum opus! Violation on a scale that will shake Lust to its very foundations!"

Fizzarolli clapped and cackled, dancing about on the enormous archdevil's shoulder as he burst through the doorway, his sheer might scattering his awaiting entourage like leaves in a gale, sending them tumbling from the mezzanine on a surge of lightning and thunder.

'Oh yes…' The Demon King thought, his vile mind whirling with unfathomable depravity. 'If I can't plunder the Holy Maidenhead, I'll just amuse myself with your tight ass! I'll do things that'll break even a masochist of your caliber, Corset!'

(X)

Vortex carried the belching, mumbling succubus across the parking garage, setting her in the passenger's seat as she groused about having to call her technicians last-minute and on and on. A thump from the trunk sent his heart leaping into his throat. What now?!

Belatedly, he recalled the actual fucking human kid hiding back there. In all the excitement – or, more accurately, terror – of recent events, he'd somehow completely forgotten. Tired dread settled in as he contemplated how, exactly, he was going to pitch this mess to Yula. Nebula was a sensible hellhound, strong as the Pillars of Wrath, and twice as imposing when she wanted to be. How would she react to all this bullshit he was about to pile into her dish?

'One way to find out,' he thought, tiredly. 'Fuck, is this brat even worth the headache?'

He hopped into the driver's seat and pulled out. Before long, they were on their way to the elevator and heading back to Pride. The Cadillac pulled into Verosika's estate, lurid statues of the egotistical succubus lining the driveway leading up to the mansion. He handed his snoozing boss off to her staff, bade his fond farewells, and drove the Caddy to the garage, where his truck was waiting in one of the stalls. He sniffed the air, none of the people-smells in there were fresh, he was alone. He walked around back and popped the trunk. The kid was curled up, fast asleep, his phone in his hand. Vortex smiled warmly. He couldn't help it. Ever since coming here the kid, understandably, vacillated between total confusion and utter terror. But seeing him like this, peaceful, calm, made a strange unfamiliar warmth blossom in his chest.

Totally worth it.

He gingerly picked Brief up, careful not to wake him, and placed him in the back seat, wrapping him in a blanket and buckling his seatbelt. How would Yula react? Only one way to find out.

'Either in my bed or on the couch, I'm sleeping like a brick tonight!' He thought, his truck rumbling to life. 'But I'll sleep easy.'

The truck pulled up to his home in the dead of night. It was a nice place, two storeys with a small deck, and a fenced in front and back yard; perfect for Hound Parties. Between his generous pay from Verosika and Yula's job as a baker in Gluttony , they could easily afford the rent with money to spare for spending and saving. It was their dream to go in on a similar place sometime in the future, have a house of their own. And who knows? Maybe with this pay-bump he was expecting, perhaps that dream was closer than he thought. It was well and truly late by the time he got there, allowing him some hope that Yula had turned in for the night. Vortex stepped out of the truck, careful not to slam the door, and made his way to the back seat. Brief, still fast asleep, had curled the blanket around himself, snoring softly. Carefully, the hulking hellhound wrapped the sleeping boy up in the blanket, swaddling him as to conceal him from any prying eyes. He carried him over to the door, pulled out his keys and stealthily unlocked the door, slipping in and closing it just as silently. It was dark, all the lights were out.

Yula was asleep.

Good. One less thing to worry about tonight.

He walked forward in wide, careful steps, avoiding any and all creaky floorboards. He was halfway across the living room and towards the guest room when the light flicked on. Vortex swore under his breath and turned to see his girlfriend, Nebula or 'Yula' for short, standing in the doorway to the adjoining kitchen, her strong, thick arms folded across her buxom chest. Her long silver hair was tied up in a net and she was dressed in her long flowing nightgown, not that it did anything to obscure her Venusian figure. She worked as a baker in Gluttony, and had a healthy appetite on top of that, but such things were hardly a deterrent for Vortex. If anything, she filled out in all the right ways to get his motor running.

But right now, such things were about as far from his mind as possible. Hers too, if her expression was anything to go by. "Hey, babe."

"Don't you 'hey babe' me!" She barked, marching over to him, her red and white eyes boring into him. "Where the fuck have you been?! I've been calling all night! What happened?!"

The bundle in his arms murmured and stirred. "Shh!"

"Don't you dare 'shh' me, Vortex! I–" She sniffed the air, brow furrowing. "What's that smell? Smells like… Vortex, what's that you're holding?"

"Be quiet, babe!" He hissed, walking over to the couch. "He's sleeping, don't wake him up."

"Texy…" she said, forebodingly. "That better not be what I think it is. You know our landlord doesn't allow pets!"

Vortex smiled softly as he lay the bundle down. "I know."

"Oh, don't you think you can charm me with some Greed Lion cub or whatever big-eyed stray you've picked up this time! No means no! If that little beast scratches the floor or burns down the shed, there goes our damage deposit, and our asses right after! So, you better pack that critter up and… get… it…" Her voice trailed off as he stepped away to reveal the figure on the couch. "…What?"

A human.

A short, skinny human boy with a mop of ruddy curls atop his pale head, fast asleep and snoring softly.

"His name is Brief," said Vortex, still kneeling next to the kid. "He'll be staying with us for a bit."

"Where… how…?" She stammered, eyes wide. "What… what are you doing?!" Her arms held out in disbelief, pointing between Vortex and the brat.

"Shh!"

"What are you doing!?" She whisper-shouted. "Bringing him here!? Here, of all places! And what the fuck is he even doing in Hell?! What's going on? Did that bitch Verosika put you up to this!?"

"I don't know! Probably not?" whispered Vortex, remaining calm despite his lover being anything but at the moment. "Kid literally just fell out of the sky right next to me. Some Sinners went after him and I had to step in."

"Did you?" Nebula hissed. "Did you really have to?"

"Babe, c'mon! They were gonna eat him, or worse!" Vortex turned back to Brief. "…Probably worse. I couldn't do him like that."

The plump hound girl rubbed her forehead, as though to ward off a migraine.

"A human in Hell, Tex!" She snapped. "That doesn't just happen! What do you think'll happen to us when whoever brought him here comes looking for him!? I'll tell you what; you and I get made into fucking throwrugs! Get him out of here!"

The taller Hound took a deep breath, centering himself.

"Yula, baby, I can't do that," he said, getting to his feet. "He won't last five seconds out there before some pimp or cannibal or sadist gets a hold of him!"

"Better him than us!" She growled before setting a hand on his shoulder, taking a deep breath to calm down. "Tex, look… I know you feel bad for him. You have a good heart, it's what I love about you, but this is a whole mess we really should steer clear of. He's dangerous, can't you see that?"

"He's just a kid!"

"A human kid!" She whispered, desperately. "Whoever brought him here 1: can bring a human to Hell, and 2: did it for a reason. That's two reasons why we should get him as far away from us as possible!"

Vortex turned to the sleeping teen and then back to Nebula, sighing. "I didn't want to do this, but I guess I have no choice."

"What?" Nebula said as Vortex walked back over to the boy, kneeling down next to him. "What are you–"

He reached out and, gently, brushed back his thick, curly red bangs. The living room lit up, sparkles hanging in the air, shimmering. Yula's eyes went wide and glossy as the nigh-physical force of the boy's beauty radiated out at her. Vortex smirked and moved his hand, the thick curly locks shuttering his face once more. Yula stood spellbound, hands clapped over her mouth.

"Well?" Vortex said, cocking an eyebrow. "Still wanna throw him to the Fallers? I know a cannibal joint across town that'd pay top dollar for–" Her hand shot out and clapped him across the back of his head. "OW! Yula!"

"Shhh!" She hissed, rushing over to the slumbering human boy. "You'll wake him up, carrying on like that!"

She tenderly collected his limp form and picked him up, cradling the comparatively tiny figure in her arms, tucking him under the impressive shelf of her rack.

Lucky bastard…

"C'mon, li'l guy, let's get you tucked into a real bed." She said softly, smiling down at him and stroking his head. "Ain't no one gonna hurt this angel while I'm around. Y'hear that, Brief?"

"Mmhm…" Brief murmured, still asleep. "Thhank you, ma'ammm…"

The silver haired hound tittered like a schoolgirl, looking over at Vortex, her eyes so huge and liquid he actually thought she was about to cry. She pulled him close and made off for the spare bedroom, whispering sweet nothings to the boy.

"Oh, look at you, you're so thin! Poor thing~" She cooed. "In the morning, I'm gonna fix you up a proper breakfast. That's right. Get some meat on those bones. You like pancakes? You'll love my pancakes. And some ham and eggs, with freshly squeezed OJ, and hashbrowns, fried up nice and crispy! You like the sound of that, baby?"

She nuzzled her nose against the boy, smiling serenely. Vortex raised an eyebrow. On one hand, man, he's envious. On the other, seeing Nebula act this way… didn't feel all too bad.

"Sunnyyy side uuup…" Brief mumbled. "Please…"

"Any which way you like, sweetie."

Vortex smiled as he watched her tuck the kid in. Despite it all, this was the moment he was most dreading. He chided himself in retrospect; Nebula was the most big-hearted, caring hellhound this side of the Pentagram. She talked a good game and was sensibly wary, given where they lived, but there was no way she'd have turned the kid away, mind-bending cuteness or not. When she was done and the kid was in bed, she slipped out of the spare room and closed the door. She turned to Vortex and let out a sigh before her expression turned severe, serious.

"Tell me everything that happened today."

Vortex groaned. "Can it wait until morning?"

"Vortex."

He sighed, shoulders slumping as he leaned against the wall. "Right. So, there I was, having a smoke in the alley outside work…"

Wr1teAnon wrote this one up, so give props to him on this. So yeah, BRief is now in Hell and in the care of Vortex.

What happened between Brief and Corset? You'll see... And where's the Angel Sisters too? Well, you'll see as well...