After a decent drive into the more upscale part of Pride, Loona finally made it to the Goetia Quarter. Countless mansions and castles perched within vast estates, the roads were immaculate, free of cracks and potholes, the sidewalks clean enough to eat from. These were easily the smoothest roads she had ever driven on.
Considering this was the home of Hell's noble class, the vast and powerful Goetia Family, it made sense. She wouldn't want to drive on pot-hole laden roads either, and there were more than a few roads in Imp City with wry nicknames like 'Suspension Street' and 'Paint-Mixer Place'.
She looked down to her phone, following the ever-shrinking green line to Blitzo's feathery fuckbuddy, passing by a pair of immense towers. One made of ice, another a coal-black pillar wreathed in fire.
She continued until she taking the turn as she drove up to the gate guarding the estate. She pulled the window down and peaked out, seeing the camera angled towards her along with an intercom. She reached out and pressed on the button.
"Uh, hello? Mr. Stolas?" Loona said, leaning out of the van. "I'm here with the book."
There was a brief moment of silence before she heard a high-toned, lilting voice. "Ah Loona! You're here! I'll open the gate for you," said the Goetia demon from the other end, his tone excited. The gate opened with clunk and a whir and Loona pulled on through, heading around the large marble fountain in the center of the courtyard, parking the van out front. She collected the grimoire and hopped on out, walking towards the imposingly opulent mansion. Gardens lined the estate, with plants and flowers both easy on the eye and dangerous to behold, stopping to admire a small tree of some type, its branches laden with small juicy oranges. At the foot of which was a small sign that read 'Warning: Medusa Mandarin, do not make eyecontact'. Her gaze cast down to the ground, seeing dozens of birds and one well-dressed Imp, all petrified. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the fruits open to reveal a purple, slit-pupiled eye. Hurriedly turning away, she walked by what appeared to be a large flower, its bloom furled, only for it to pulsate, its petals splitting to reveal rows of sharp, thorny teeth, before hacking up a slick pellet of hair, bones, horns and, unsettlingly, shoes.
'Gonna have to be careful where I sit around here…' she thought to herself as she hurried up the stairs to the door, waiting as she looked out beyond towards the center of Pride. Where Brief was, if he made it to that Hotel place at all, that is. Right in the heart of millions if not billions of Sinners.
That sappy singing princess better be taking care of him.
She heard the door open and she turned to see the towering, lithe Owl Demon beaming down at her. "Loona, good evening! Please come in!"
He gestured, opulent noble attire waving as he gestured for her to come in. She obliged with a shy nod and muttered thanks.
"Whoa." Looking around, she saw the rich and lavish furniture and décor, with many unique plants situated off in their own corners. Some of them even had eyes, gazing at her as she blanched.
"Oh, don't mind the Seeing Eye Traps. They just watch… until they don't. They're skittish that way." Stolas chuckled. "Oh, and be sure not to get too close to the Venus Imp Traps. I just fed them this eveneing, but those things must have a black hole for a stomach." He smirked as Loona stepped away from the plants as she followed the noble. "Oh, but listen to me carry on! How are you doing, my dear? Drive wasn't too bad I hope?"
"Meh, had to take a few side streets to avoid gang wars, besides that all good." Loona replied as they went up the stairs. She noticed some empty spots along the halls, and some places where painting and picture frames were hung up, as some all around have varying images of plants, Stolas, or the noble with his daughter Octavia.
"Ah, noticed some things off, have you?" Stolas inquired, noticing Loona's gazing around. "Been through the process of the divorce, you see," he grumbled, gesturing at the empty spots on the walls. "She's taking what she wants, per the agreement. I say let her! She mostly takes everything with her snide little face on it, anyway…"
He scoffed, shaking his head before carrying on down the hall, Loona following. She didn't ask but… nice for clarifying.
"I see… sorry about, well, your marriage." She said, feeling awkward as Stolas perked up.
"Oh Loona, dear, don't you worry about a thing." He leaned down, his large, taloned hand reaching out in a flash and… petting her on the head. "It's been a long time coming if you ask me. And don't you feel guilty either. You had no involvement, why blame yourself?"
He rose back up and continued walking on towards what appears to be a study as he opened the door for her. Which it was. A massive opulent room lined wall to wall with books and tomes. Loona looked all around, her head on a swivel.
"So uhhh, need your book to do your thing?" She asked, holding out the grimoire as Stolas nodded.
"Indeed I do." The Owl Demon raised his hand as it glowed with his violet aura, the book floating up and into the owl demon's claws as he began to flip through the pages. "So Loona, how are you doing dear? Did Blitz have a good outing?"
"Oh yeah, he got a bunch of kills. France was going through a lot so…" She shrugged. "No one'll suspect a thing."
"Good good, at least he enjoys his work." He murmured, a light frown on his features as Loona looked around as Stolas set down the Grimoire. "Now then, before I begin to do my duties, there are a few things I want to ask about." He looked over to Loona. "Now, you know some spellcraft, given you can utilize my Grimoire, which in of itself is impressive for a Hellhound." He walked on over. "So if I may ask, do you have any recollection of using magic in the past?"
Loona blinked.
"Uhh, not really. Only began using it when Blitz got the book. Along with me learning a human disguise spell on the side if I get brought along for a job." She replied. "Still can't believe those idiots don't know that kind of spell…"
"Imps have a hard time with spellcraft outside of using a medium. Enchanted objects like Sin Crystals, for example, and that can cost a pretty penny if you don't have the right connections." Stolas replied. "And you wish to use magic so you can see this friend of yours yes?"
"Yeah, kinda. I mean, I know the basics of the Hell to Earth Spell, but I feel like there I times when I could be more precise for work, you know?" Loona said as Stolas sat down in a chair, gesturing for Loona to sit. She did and leaned back, sinking into the silk cushions. Comfy.
"Care for any refreshments? You are my guest, after all." He offered, his hand glowing as a small tear in space occurred as Loona's eyes widened: spending the morning doing the opposite of eating and the rest of the day in mortal terror meant that she hadn't had a bite to eat all day.
"Uhhh… Got anything sweet, non-chocolate?" She asked.
"That I do." Stolas remarked. "Gustav. Two vanilla crème eclairs for my guest, along with fine Sloth Grey Tea please." He ordered as the tear closed.
"So did you just… make a small portal just to talk to someone?"
"Why yes. A simple Portal Spell. It's in the same class and vein as Hell to Earth actually. Utilizing the Grimoire as my catalyst and medium, I imagine two coordinates in space and place them in the spell circuit, automatically bridging two points. It's remarkably simple and precise once you have sufficiently detailed coordinates."
"Oh wow, that's easy. So uh, how do I learn it?" Loona asked, the hound girl's tail wagging a bit in anticipation.
"Now now. Slow down, dear. Despite my claim of it being simple there are several complicated factors that go into it. Tell me Loona, how are you able to execute the Hell to Earth Spell?" He asked as Loona blinked.
"Well… We use it to get into the general area of where our target is, which is provided by our client. Client gives the info of where the target is located, and the more info, the closer we get to said target."
"Care to give an example?" Stolas asked, smiling coyly as Loona tilted her head. "I'm trying to let you explain it in your own terms so I can gain an understanding of your magical skills, darling."
"Ok… one client told us how, well, she got screwed over by her husband cheating on her. She tried to kill the one he was messing around with before offing herself. She knew what state she lived in, her address, all that shi – uh – stuff, so we were able to portal in close to their house and the others got to work." Loona explained.
"Which is precisely why the Hell to Earth and Portal spells are very similar. Knowledge is power, as they say, or in this case information. The more information you have in regards to where you want the spell to take place, the more accurate you are. I'm sure you've had some misteps before with IMP not being as close to a potential target as they could be," Stolas said.
"There were a few. Like trying to find the jogger in Ohio? It was super broad and too hard to find. Like we knew the city was in a place called, like, Cleveland or something, but the city's big and there were joggers everywhere. Couldn't find the target." Loona shrugged. "Not enough info."
"Precisely. The spell works best when you have an image of that person or place in mind. It can work with numerical coordinates in a pinch, but I find visualizing is much better for precision." Stolas replied. "The more you know of where you want the tear to take place, the more you can visualize the space between where you are and where it is, the more precise you can be. For instance, I used that simple portal spell to make a tear in the kitchen." Stolas waved his hand, forming a portal to the kitchen, where an Imp cook was scarfing handfuls of truffles, looking guilty as a cat in a goldfish bowl: Stolas did not seem to notice or care if he did. "Because I have been there, I know my own home like the back of my hand, all the rooms and halls, the distances between them, it's all up here." He smirked, tapping his temple and closing the portal. "Now, say if I have to use the spell for say… Leviathan's inner sanctum, that will be tricky." He shrugged. "Levi is, ah, not fond of me. I haven't been there often, you see, so I cannot visualize a specific place to project the tear. To say nothing of bypassing the Arcane Wards each of the Seven Deadly Sins have around their seats of power. Think of it like a firewall, those wards, and the Spells in the ward's eyes are viruses."
"Oh wow, that's a nice analogy." Loona scratched her chin. "I thought that, well, with all these books…" She mused.
"Hohohohoho~" The owl demon chuckled, sounding more like a string of hoots. "Just because I am well read doesn't mean I am a luddite now. Have to keep with the times of course. Of course, there is a simpler way of utilizing a spell of the Portal Spell's caliber. That doesn't require a tear in reality, but rather a way to passively view locations. A scrying spell." The door opened, an Imp servant pushing a trolley in as it came upon the coffee table between Stolas and Loona. The white haired demon set down a plate of the eclairs for Loona, with two cups between them and a pot as he took a cup. "Care for tea?"
"Well, I don't really–" She began to decline, only to abruptly remind herself that she was in the estate of a Goetia, and the form Stolas used to rescue them from those human agents rose in her mind. "Uh, sure. Haven't had tea in a while." More like ever.
Stolas smiled and nodded, gesturing at the Imp butler, who poured some brew into the teacups. She blew it on it a little and offered a silent 'thanks' to the Prince.
"So… a scrying spell." She sipped, and she winced. It was… zesty, and bitter. "Yep. It's, here, been a while since I've had tea." She laughed nervously as she fibbed.
"It's an acquired taste. Warm tea helps with the digestive system. Balances the humors, you know." Stolas added as he sipped calmly. "Anyways, the scrying spell allows for one to gaze upon others, with the target unaware unless they have Wards for such things, of course."
"So like, a peeping tom spell?"
Loona smacked her lips, the aftertaste strong as she set her cup down, picking up the pastry and took a respectable bite despite her hunger. Sweet and rich, and her eyes lit up.
Stolas blinked at the descriptor, smirking wryly. "I was originally going to call it a spying spell, but that is a fair analogy, crude as it is." Stolas sipped his tea with obvious relish. "Now, in order to utilize a scrying spell, one must have something belonging to the target in their possession to use as a medium for the spell."
"Like… what?"
"Usually hair works as a fine enough medium. I've used it a fair number of times on Blitzy. It's how I noticed you lot in danger against those demon hunting humans." Stolas remarked, before he flinched and sighed, looking to the side. "Speaking of… how is Blitz doing?"
Loona rubbed her arm. "Alright, for the most part."
"Has he… mentioned anything about that night?"
Loona blinked as she sipped from the tea again, as to not offend. "That night?"
"Yes, it was a couple of nights ago. When he invited me to OZZIE'S," Stolas elaborated as Loona looked to the side in thought.
"Wait, he invited you?"
"Yes…" Stolas replied, bristling slightly at her subtle incredulity. "He wanted to go on a date with me there."
"Huh. I mean, my co-workers went to Ozzies that night, too, I think?" Loona said, shrugging. "Weird coincidence."
"They did?" Stolas perked up. "What for?"
"Wedding anniversary or some shit like that. That night was… rough for me, too." Drinking binge and that night at Vortex's being an absolute blur… well, mostly. That was also the night she met Brief for the first time, and all the bullshit that followed.
"Seems like we all have had our troubles lately…" Stolas mused. "But why would he want to go to the same place as his co-worker's Anniversary?"
"I dunno, maybe he just got the idea from them? What happened at OZZIE'S, anyway? Blitz was a mess afterwards," Loona asked. "Blitz keeps dodging and Moxxie doesn't really fill me in on anything." Largely her own fault, but still.
Stolas sighed, his shoulder's slumping. "We went on a date and… turns out Blitz was more, er, 'popular' than I thought…" He shook his head. "Enough of that now. I need to tend to my duties for the moment." He stood up and walked over to his Grimoire. "If you like you're welcome to observe, or to read through various tomes I have here in my study." With a glow of his hand, he brought several smaller books over to Loona. "If you wish, you may familiarize yourself with those instructional tomes on Magic. It's what I read when I was young, perhaps you can glean some for yourself? Nothing wrong with going to learn about the basic fundamentals."
"Ummm, sure." Loona took a bite of the éclair, moaning at the delicious taste as she scarfed it down. "Thanks Mr. Stolas."
Time to get to learning.
(X)
"Please, my dear. Call me Stolas." The Goetia Noble looked back, offering a sympathetic smile as his Grimoire glowed and the pages flew past. His hands glowed, and his third and fourth eyes gazed into the cosmos.
Loona's arrival was a very welcome distraction. A distraction from the fallout of his divorce with Stella, Octavia's reaction to that, and now the rumors of him and Blitzo's trip to OZZIE'S circulating in various circles in the Goetia Quarter. Andrealphus will likely be contacting him at some point, given he's the closest to that damn white-feathered harpy, while Vasago will be more than eager to whip the gossip into a frenzy.
For now, he had his duties. That night with Blitzo… Started so well, before everything went to hell. Rhyme not intended.
He looked back, seeing Loona look through the books he had lent for her.
It was peculiar, a Hellhound being this adept at magic. Imps had zero aptitude outside of their quaint little quirks, a race of scrappy generalists, as befitting their position near the bottom of the hierarchy. Hellhounds, on the other hand, despite their low status were bestowed with certain natural arcane gifts, such as basic locator magic, disguises, and superior physical attributes. But all these abilities were inborn, bred into them to fulfill their original purpose as the guards and hunters of Hell. For this young lady to be so adept in the Higher Arts spoke to Stolas of anomalous natural talent, potential so great it manifested despite her race's naturally low capacity for such things.
Fascinating.
"So, Loona, my dear," Stolas asked, looking up at her as his floating quill scrawled his observations of changes within the Cosmos. "You wish to learn the Portal and Scrying Spell for your… friend right?"
"Umm, yeah. To check on them in therapy when I can't, y'know, be there." She sighed. "They could really use the help."
Stolas smiled. "Blitz would be happy to hear that!"
Again, all leading back to the scarred Imp he was so hopelessly in love with. The same Imp that wanted nothing to do with him right now.
"He would?" Loona asked.
"Oh yes, he often mentions how proud you make him," Stolas replied. "He'd be beside himself with joy to hear you've made such a close friend."
"Don't you guys usually… you know," Loona winced a bit. "Fuck and stuff?"
"Amongst other things! We experiment once a month of course." Stolas chuckled. "After all, we have times when we just talk. Usually he recuperates with a fag on the bed."
"A what?" Loona' eyes widened.
"Oh, a cigarette. Sorry, some of my associates on earth have these funny little names for things that have found their way into my vernacular," said Stolas, sipping his tea, chuckling. "Ah, but there's naught so queer as folk, you know."
"Riiiiiight…" She went back to her book, taking a bite out of her second eclair as she familiarized herself with the basics.
(X)
Corset ran through the streets of Pride, huffing and puffing as he slumped against a wall, gasping for air. How long has he been running? Minutes? Hours? He couldn't recall. He turned around, still seeing that faint red glow coming from the Happy Hotel, and the incubus took a deep breath. That was probably enough distance between him and the Radio Demon…
"Alright…" He breathed, scratching at his side where his own corset dug into his flesh. "I need to strategize…"
He walked into an alleyway, deep in thought. A summation: Briefers Rock now has the aid of both Princess Charlotte and the Radio Demon. To say this development was inimical to his and His Lord's objectives was a brazen understatement! Perhaps the only way this could get worse would be if Lucifer himself joined the fray! No, as things stood, there was simply no way to muscle their way into the Hotel, if that had ever been an option to begin with. So how was he to get ahold of the Key?
Perhaps he could he pretend to seek redemption?
No, the Radio Demon would sniff him out in an instant, to say nothing of the lack of love between him and the brat. As part of his 'therapy' Brief had no doubt spoken of his past, his deeds and adventures, inevitably mentioning his greatest nemesis, the illustrious Corset!
…The brat better have mentioned him…
Regardless! The fact remained that discretion was the only way forward. They tried brawn and bombast, and that was ripped to pieces and eaten alive! No, what they needed to do was–
He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, snapping him out of his ruminations. Corset reached in, pulling it out. It read: King COCK-a-Doodle-Doo.
"Gametime..." He gulped. He took a deep breath, and the demon brought it up to his ears. "Hello?"
"Ahhhh Corset~!" Cooed Asmodeus as Corset leaned away from the phone, the voice too clean and clear to be coming from a phone. Indeed, His Lord's voice seemed to be coming from inside his skull. "Just calling to check in on you~" Corset looked down, seeing the smiling face of Asmodeus leering through the screen. "Sooo… how's it going?"
Seeing that his phone was glowing, and the Demon King of Lust's head began poking through the screen, Corset gulped. "Well, you see…"
The faux-jovial tone dissipated entirely, Ozzie's blazing eyes narrowing into a glare. "What's wrong."
"Well, my King-"
"Where's my Key, Corset?" He growled, the phone jittering and sparking as his head and shoulders rose from the screen. Corset yelped and stepped back as the phone floated, his Lord's very much life-sized body growing out of the screen. It was neither His Lord's physical form or a simple projection, but something between the two, a pale shadow of the King of Sin's might, but even a pale shadow of such power was dangerous. Standing before him, towering, was King Asmodeus, his eyes glaring down on the cowering incubus from on high.
"Yeah, lill blue man groupie~" Oiled Fizarolli, slithering up the massive Demon Prince and laying atop his shoulders. "We've tried pinging up Rahk and the rest, but I guess they're busy with the fam! We figured you probably weren't welcome to that little reunion."
"About that…" Corset uttered as he fiddled with his fingers, his courage evaporating fast like a puddle of piss in a desert. "They're… not at the Hotel."
"And why. Is. That?" Ozzie hissed, drawing a huge talon across Corset's neck before notching it under his chin, forcing the cowering incubus to look him in the eye. "What happened?"
"O-oh! Well, you see, it's actually a funny story!" Corset said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. "So, there I was, with the Rocks, and I was saying 'hey, maybe we should be more discrete? We can't just barge into the Princess' Hotel!' and Rahk was like 'you coward! We Rocks take what we wish in the name of Our Lord!' And then R.A. said–"
"That is a funny story," Ozzie interrupted, setting the point of his talon against Corset's Adam's apple. "But I have an appointment at three, so… Cliffnotes. Now."
"Radio Demon." Corset squeaked out. "The Radio Demon's protecting Briefers Rock. With Princess Charlotte. Th-they're partners or something. H-he defeated them all. I-I'm not sure if they're dead-dead, but, uh, there's not much left to put back together."
"The Rocks are out of action? All of them? Even Rahk?" Corset nodded and Asmodeus blinked, stunned. "You mean to tell me Rahk Sagkhal, my first contractor, the Pater Primaris of my Key, was slain by that… cajun radio DJ wannabe? And that said upstart is currently shacked up with Princess Charlotte, playing papa wolf to my property?"
Corset nodded, clearly terrified beyond rational thought, as the next words out of his mouth were: "Alastor sends his best regards. The score for this little game is 1-0 in his favor. He looks forward to the next round."
"Game? GAME?! He–I–THAT FUCKING–!" Asmodeus sputtered, rearing up to his full height. "Why you little~!"
He leaned in, his eyes wide with exasperated fury as Corset leaned back and shrunk as if face to face with a black mamba. The King of Lust growled and seethed, each exhale accompanied by a burst of white-hot flames, his mighty frame outlined by a corona-like aura of fury, even as a projection his raw might burned the air like lightning. Fizzarolli, ever the attentive lapdog, scooted up to the massive demon's face, running his metal hands through his flaming mane.
"Whoa whoa whoa whoa, there Big Bird! Deep breaths, babe! Deeeeeep breathes." The cyborg imp reassured as Ozzie radiated red light, then purple, then finally pale cyan as he centered himself. Corset shivered before the projection as he turned away, his face in his giant taloned hands, his fiery mane began to billow once more, only for Fizzarrolli to recommence the soothing.
"B-But all's not lost, My Lord!" He uttered, and Asmodeus turned, all three heads glaring down at him. "I have an idea! A wondrous, glorious and ingenious idea, My King!"
"And. What. Is…. THAT, idea…" Ozzie hissed. "Because, my Key. My. Fucking. Key," He hissed, taking step after step as Corset stepped backwards. "That has been fermenting for six… THOUSAND YEARS." Corset felt his insides turn into knots, as though Ozzie's huge hands were preparing to wring him out like a cumrag. "My Key to the Gates of Hell! Is in the possession of Lucifer's crotch-spawn, which means he either gets sent back to Earth, or Lucifer will find him! And when Lucifer finds him, finds out what we've been up to…" Incredibly, the King of Lust quailed, his flames going pale as his bottomlessly lurid imagination tried and failed to comprehend the consequences. "I'm fucked. And if I'm fucked, Corset, you'd better believe that so are you!"
"P-Please hear me out!" Corset pleaded. "T-then you can decide whether or not you will r-r-r-ravish me! I deserve it for my failure!"
"Oh please, Corset…" Ozzie chuckled darkly, laughing almost. "Ravish? Your bony ass is the LAST THING on my mind. Well, you had a 'brilliant' plan? Let's hear it"
"Well… the plan is… to wait. To let the Radio Demon believe he's scared us off." Corset gulped, those talons close to his body. "A-And then we infiltrate the Hotel!"
"And how do you plan to manage that?" Ozzie growled, his other faces expressing curiosity despite their fury.
"Hiring someone!" Corset blurted out. "Someone low-key! Pathetic, even! Someone beneath suspicion could sneak in there and be our eyes and ears! I just need to find the right loser with a chip on his shoulder, and we'll be set! A-After all, a spider in the dark, a snake in the grass, you don't see them coming until they bite!" He breathed hard, chest rising and falling. "I know Briefers Rock, my King. That boy may be safe as can be in the hotel, but… but a boy like him…" He smirked, looking up to his king as he felt his confidence slowly return to him as the Demon Prince gave him space. "Has needs. He can't stay there forever!"
Ozzie blinked, scratching his chin as he looked to the side. "Has needs huh?" He mused, the flames around his body slowly receding as contemplation replaced mind numbing fury. "Like what, exactly?"
"Well… we know Princess Charlotte's, er, passion project is painted as a rehabilitation center." Corset coughed into his hand, adjusted his bowtie and began to walk about, hands behind his back. "Meaning Rock is her patient. And what is the biggest certainty of rehab centers in Hell?"
"That they're all junkies? Get on with it ya Smurf-skinned fleshlight-to-be." Fizzaroli crooned as Corset glared. The nerve of that lowborn chrome'd up jester…
"No, is that all rehab patients in Hell relapse. They just need a little… push, and that's what our inside-demon will do! Find the boy's Sins and play on them!" He smirked. "Rock won't want to stay cooped up in there forever. He may come to view that place as a prison, eventually. With our agent in there, whispering poison into his ear, I guarantee that Rock will crack, and when he does… I'll be waiting for him." Corset elaborated, bowing deeply to his King. "And then he will be yours, Your Majesty~."
Ozzie looked down at him, and the cowering simpering Corset who had failed his mission was gone, in its place, was the prime Middle Manager of Ozzie's business enterprises. "You can do this?"
The incubus looked up, his rictus grin beaming with confidence. "After all, he is human. And humans," He gestured to all of Hell around him. "Had their hand in making all of this…" He looked out to the boulevard of busy sinners and demons, with many of the buildings built from Sinner flesh. "…A reality. Temptation abound, My Lord!"
The Demon Prince of Lust scratched his chin, pondering. "Alright Corset. You always were a persuasive one I admit, you silver-tongued devil, you. And your penchant for recovering FUBAR situations has not gone unnoticed." Corset nodded along, beaming like a peacock. "Plus… you do know the Key better than most." Ozzie sighed. "Alright. I suppose I was a touch… impatient to get the key. I've been waiting so long to bust out of my cage, I just about popped off early!" He smiled down on the much shorter demon. "You were always a fine manager under me. Sly, cunning, manipulative…" He walked back, and sat down on something, likely a throne of his. "The Rocks were overconfident, prideful in their abilities, too used to being on top. You, on the other hand, you know how to bide your time, to play bottom and wait for a switch. Very well, Corset, we'll do it your way. You can even have access to my funds as well. Go on ahead~"
Corset let out a sigh of relief, bowing before turning to leave , only to have Ozzie hold up three fingers. "But!"
The incubus blinked. "But, My Lord?"
"This is your last chance, Corset. Your time on Earth? Strikes one, and two." He counted down the fingers until only one remained, wagging it forebodingly at the incubus. "Strike three and yerrrr OUT!" He glared, fangs present as he smiled like a raptor, Fizarolli leering down with his master. "Do you understand?"
"Y-Yes of course, your majesty." Corset nodded fervently. "H-home run or bust!"
The Prince of Lust chuckled and the projection faded away, leaving hissing sparks and heatwaves in the air as his phone's screen dimmed before fizzling and exploding from overuse of arcane energies.
"Oh… I just bullshitted my way past a Demon Lord of Sin…" Corset muttered, his eyes wide before a rictus grin curled across his pale face, exultant despite his stomach feeling like it was having a tonic-clonic seizure. "Still got it! Now, then… to get a new phone. I'll have to get back to headhunting, find some good h-UUUUUUUURRRRLLLL~!" And out came breakfast as he keeled over heaving and puking, spitting the bitter bile from his mouth. "A-and some–ptoo!–Br-breath mints…"