1-14
Angel examined his face in his pocket mirror, applying lipstick with one hand, roughly dusting ruby-red blush with another, and layered on mascara with two others all at once. Having all these damned arms sure came in handy (~ba-dum-tish~) from time to time. He stopped and examined himself, his lips were shiny with abyssal-black lipstick, contrasting sharply with his white fur. The mascara, caked on like a penny-hooer, ran down his cheeks in oily tyrian tears, clashing with the vermillion spackle of blush, giving the distinct impression of blood splatter. Satisfied, he examined his get-up, a mismatch of studded black leather scales, fishnets, and spikes. Like, so many spikes. All the fucking spikes. The end result resembled a compromise between a gimp suit, plate armor, and a humanoid game-gutting tool. All in all, he looked like the hottest tweaker cultist at the blood-orgy: his Dark Eldar cosplay was immaculate.
Now, on to Phase Two.
Angel Dust grinned, golden fang glinting, and adjusted his top, making sure his 'tits' popped out the top of his corset/cuirass in a manner pleasingly reminiscent of cleavage, and set off down the hall, to the stairway. Angel hardly considered himself a nerd, even if that stupid game turned out to be a right lark to play. Ah, the look on Husky-Wusky's sourpuss when he kept whiffing his rolls: priceless. No, Angel Dust was no geek, but a major contingent of his fanbase were. Decades upon decades of stringing along hopeless dorks for free meals and pocket-money had given him significant insight into the dweeb mindset, which buttons to press to coax them out of their introvert shells enough to spend their hard-earned $ouls on the chance of getting with the Angel Dust. Sometimes he even blessed his more loyal simps with a beej or a sticky-quicky, if only to spread the word and renown. This time wouldn't be anything like that. This time, he was the scrounger. This time, he was hunting. It was high time he plied his well-honed baiting skills to something a little more… proactive.
He approached Brief's room, located right next to Chuck's. Angel scoffed and rolled his eyes. The surgery Princess of Hell had gone full-on Mother Goose with this kid! Which, to be fair, might be warranted with the whole 'key to the Gates of Hell, property of Asmodeus, potential instigator of Judgement Day' thing. Angel sourly mused that if Charlie wanted to get any more protective of the geek, she'd be sleeping in bed right next to him!
Ha! Snatch'd throw a fit!
…Hmm…
Angel paused for a moment and pondered the absurd notion of Rocky-Boy 'breaching the gates' with Charlie, admitting they'd make adorable kids… or would the daughter of Lucifer Himself plucking that particular ginger-root result in reality itself being doomed or something? Would Vaggie be offended? Or maybe they'd rope in that cycloptic stiff to ride bitch in a threeway! Replace that stick up her ass with something less bristly at least…
Whatever. He had to stay on track, here. He was on a mission: to see, measure, and assess King Ozzie's Nuclear Option.
…He was definitely going to commission Niffty for a dementedly lewd fanfic of that fun little crackship, though. But later, after he'd verified the details with the 'canon', so to speak. Or, should he say, the Cannon! If his decades of baiting simps had given him a roadmap to the nerd mind, his equal number of years as a porn star had endowed (~ba-dum-tish~) him with a sixth sense regarding certain anatomical features. In effect, it was not unlike the feeling of being watched. Ha! Watched by a one-eyed monster! He could feel it deep in his gut that the shy, wilting ginj was packing a potentially world-ending weapon. Who better to stress-test the goods than Hell's Favorite Hole? No one, that's who.
Angel's hands went to the door, effortlessly picking the lock with a hairpin and opening it with the other. He peeked inside, careful not to let the hinges creak; Brief wasn't there… but he waaaas in the bathroom, having himself a nice little shower from the sound of it. Oh, what luck! Brief would walk out of that bathroom, squeaky clean and relaxed, dressed in nothing but a towel and who would he see but none other than Hell's top pornstar, the Angel Dust. All kitted out in kinky cosplay, 'innocently' asking for 'pointers' for the next campaign! The scene practically wrote itself! He should write it down the next time those flailing dipshits Valentino called his writing staff were brainstorming, maybe get himself a nice juicy creative consultant pay-bump!
The door to the bathroom creaked open, a waft of steam flooding out, filling the room with sweet notes of shampoo and bodywash. Brief shuffled out of the bathroom, head lost in a towel as he dried out his curly ginger locks, his other hand clasped on the towel wrapped about his waist. While the dork was hardly what one would consider shredded, skinny and bony and pale as one would expect of a ginger geek, Angel was pleasantly surprised at the lad's trim, toned physique. His slender body was pleasingly defined, not muscular but not the skinny-fat bod one would expect of a geek. Angel recalled during their group sessions that Brief had mentioned something about a year-long ghost-hunting adventure that, obviously, had trimmed him up some. His narrow chest was solid and defined with sleek trim abs that descended into his Adonis belt above the towel around his waist. While Angel was a little put out at the kid's modesty in the confines of his own room, he supposed that having a gremlin like Niffty (and, admittedly, him) running around, privacy in this shack was hardly guaranteed. Still, the towel shifted and swayed with his stride in a way that made the spider-demon's heart skip a beat.
[Target acquired. Execute Y/N?]
[
Y]
Angel silently sat down on the bed as the kid plodded out into the room, head still engulfed as he scrubbed the towel around. He gave himself a once-over, adjusting his corset-cuirass one last time before affecting his sultriest croon. "Heya, kid~"
"WHUH!" Brief squeaked, jumping in surprise, hand fastened tight around the towel as the other was cast to the floor. The kid's usually chaotic mop of copper curls was an absolute state of lank, heavy coils, dark with moisture, his green eyes wide as they peered out through them. "A-Angel? Wh-what are you doing here? Didn't I lock that door?"
"Kid, I can tie a cherry stem into a constrictor knot wit' my tongue," said Angel, rising to his full, towering height as he strutted over to the nonplussed Human. "Imagine what I can do wit' my hands~" He wiggled them for good measure.
"Uh…" Brief swallowed backing up, his neck craning as the 8-foot tall demon approached him, backing him into the wall, his eyes darting about as he took in just what the creature was wearing. "What are you doing here? Uh, and wearing? Is that…?"
"Ya like it?" Angel purred, preening in his new outfit, golden fang glinting. "It's my Drukhari cosplay. I think I got it pretty close, nailed the vibe at least. I just figgered I'd swing up here and… consult the expert…" Angel bent over, looming over the much shorter Human, his upper arms bracketing the boy as his lower arms reached out, one hand caressing the shapely leather corset, the bulge of cleavage-like fluff jutting out from the neckline, as the other reached out, tracing his pale abs with a clawed finger. "Got any pointers, Rocky-baby?"
"Uh… no! N-not really! You n-nailed it! Big-time! Looks great–Whuh!" Brief squeaked, jumping slightly as Angel traced down his abdomen, playfully hooking at the towel. "Whoa, hey!"
"I do? Too bad~" Angel cooed, winking at the stammering Human. "Here I was hopin' ya'd tell me it'd look better on the floor… besides, it's been a while since I've seen a proper Human and I really gotta brush up on my anatomy~"
"A-a-a-Angel, I-I-I-I don't, uh, I–"
"Shhh…" Angel purred, setting a finger on his lips. "Trust me, I'm a doctor…"
Brief blinked, cocking his head to the side. "You are?"
"No, but I play one on TV~."
Angel leaned in to plant a delicate kiss on the adorably shy boy's lips, the boy freezing on the spot, stopping within an inch when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over, heart stopping at what he saw: A huge, inhuman creature in horrific black armor towering over a cringing, petrified waif. No, wait. That was just the full-sized standing mirror Chuck insisted on putting in every room.
Wait…
Here was a huge, comparatively powerful creature, looming, pawing at the tiny, frail creature before him. His pose, his garish outfit, the predatory, gold-toothed grin on his face. It all looked… familiar.
He turned to look at Brief, his eyes now unclouded by lust, and saw a boy, a kid, shying away.
From him.
Not shy, no, terrified. Terrified of him.
What was he doing?!
"Whoa whoa whoa, hey!" Angel exclaimed, pulling away from the Human, arms raised, his expression harrowed as he backed away several, meter-long steps, any warm and hot feeling swelling inside him doused with ice cold water. "Sorry, kid! I didn't–I wasn't–sorry, I just was gettin' into character! I wasn't gonna…"
Brief lowered his guard some, shooting Angel a skeptical look, his green eyes peering back at him. "Getting… into character?"
"Uh, yeah! Heh!" Angel gestured at himself, framing his face with his fingers. "I'm an actor, dotcha know! One of Hell's most famous! Haha!" His laugh was so forced it sounded more like a bark. "Ha… ha…"
Fuck, even he cringed at that.
"Oh…" Brief muttered, looking away for a moment before turning back to him, a strained smile on his face as he crossed his arms, or did he… hug himself. "Sure… had me fooled."
Fuuuuuuuuck.
"Well uhhh, I don't like to toot my own horn," said Angel, internally sighing in relief that the kid (seemed to have) bought that. "Hurts my neck."
"Right…" Brief said, quietly. Still looking away, as he was scooting away from him.
"Ahem! Well!" Angel said, getting to his feet. "If ya think I nailed it, that's good enough for me." He felt sick, his stomach in knots for some reason. "Imma–like I'm just… Imma head out."
Brief didn't say anything as Angel awkwardly made for the door, the spider-demon pausing as he stood before the door. The look on Brief's face when he was towering over him. The helplessness, the fear, the… resignation.
He began to shake as that image played in his head again. Because he knew what that was as he looked right into the mirror that was on the door.
And seeing that scarlet coated pimp starring right back at him, disgusting gold-tooth smile evident as Angel's heart fell.
He knew what Brief felt, just like on that day.
The day Anthony D'Angelo signed away his soul to that fucking Overlord Valentino.
Angel put a hand over his mouth, and he found it hard to breathe, and his legs almost falling out from under him. He felt sick, as if someone was taking his innards and ripping them out of him.
Oh fuck…
Oh fuck fuck fuck.
What was he about to do?!
"What have I…" he uttered, doing his best to push down the bile. The disgust and hatred of himself boiling up like a volcano. Just open the fucking door damni-
"Angel? You okay?"
Angel turned to see Brief approaching him, the look of concern on his face achingly genuine. Angel felt a fresh pang of disgust well up within him, along with it a need to rectify the situation, to make things right. But how?
'What would Chuck do… ah! Of course! Nosy talky bullshit!' Angel cleared his throat, swallowed his bile, and shrugged. "Uh… hey, kid, I just wanted to, uh, apologize, like, proper-apologize. I saw ya get, like, triggered back there or something?" Brief said nothing, stiffening up, the walls raising, Angel winced but pushed forward. "Hey, no no no no, it's cool. We all got our deals, right? Wouldn't be Down Here otherwise. Ya, uh, ya wanna talk about it?" His voice lost its seductive swagger, which felt like old hat.
Brief turned around and headed back to the bathroom. "No."
Angel grimaced and considered dropping it, mind racing for a way to recover this death spiral. "Hey, that's fine. I'll respect yer privacy. It's just that, I dunno, I think I know how ya feel?" Angel saw Brief pause, shoulders tensing slightly as he silently refuted the assertion. "Well, I mean not exactly, right? I don't got no ancient cursed bloodline or Key or whatever, but bein' seen as an object by people?" Memories of the first days decades ago, thrown into Valentino's bed. Being his side hooker. "Bein' valued only for what ya can do fer someone or what they can take from ya. To be seen as not a person, but a tool or an investment or…"
"A Key," said Brief, turning around. "You do, don't you? Know how it feels, I mean."
"Heh!" Angel chuckled, relief beginning to blossom in his chest. "Well, objectification is part'a the contract when yer a pornstar. But even before I got here, even back when I was alive, every day I had to put up with what people expected of me, ya know?" He paused, digging deep into his dusty memories as he looked to the ceiling. "My pops was a proper gangster, see? Mafioso type. No real room for guys…" Angel gestured broadly at himself, his slutty spikey costume. "...Like me. My pops wanted me one way but… certain guys wanted me another way, if ya know what I'm sayin'. It let me get an angle for the business that others couldn't! What I did helped the bizz, the Family, but my old man didn't wanna hear of it. Talk about gratitude!"
Brief only nodded, saying nothing.
"See, I got noticed early, yeah? Some guys out there, they can just see it in ya. And being seen for what ya are deep down, it felt nice at first, right?" Angel looked to the side, holding his other arm. "Like, they liked something about me that no one else even knew about, or would hate me if they did…" Angel paused, sneering at the memory. "That fuckin' priest…"
That seemed to get through, Brief offered a mirthless smile. "You too, huh?"
"Eh? Yeah! He was my first and…" Angel drifted off, internally annoyed at how that memory, somehow, still hurt. Still filled him with shame. "Well, ya know how that sorta thing goes. H-heh! Alla my old friends would always joke around, sayin' if the priest wasn't diddlin' ya, it meant ya was one'a the ugly kids! Ha ha! Ha. Ha… assholes." Brief didn't laugh, and Angel let out a sigh. So much for that…
A stiff, awkward silence filled the air, broken only when Brief spoke. "All my life, my father had no expectations of me. I was a geek, unpopular at school, and at home it was like I was… It felt like no one cared. No one did care, really. Whenever a maid or butler did, my father fired them. My dad didn't even care enough to even tell me all this Hells Monkey bullshit and our bloodline's destiny… I guess he figured that now the Key had appeared, he didn't even have to pretend to care about me like I was a person. The only time he ever showed any interest in my life was when I refused to play along, when I 'let down the family', as if this family has ever done anything to make me feel a part of it." He scoffed. "All I was, all I am to them, was the Key to Hell, to more power, as if they didn't have enough already. My own father didn't even see me as part of the family…" he looked away, glaring to the side. "…Didn't even see me as Human."
Angel struggled to find the words to respond to that, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. "What a cunt."
Brief's eyes snapped open, a look of shock on his pale, freckled face, shock that suddenly broke into an elated smile. Angel almost flinched as Brief began to laugh, a flustered chuckle at first that soon bubbled over to a belt of hearty guffaws. The kid doubled over, clutching his belly as the laughter surged out of him, tears of mirth streaming down his freckled cheeks. Even Angel laughed, unsure if it was contagious or out of awkwardness.
'Is this what Chuck calls 'catharsis' or has the kid just finally snapped?' Angel thought, a cautious smile spreading across his face. "You, uh, you okay kid?"
"Ha ha ha… heh heh… woof! Yeah, yeah I'm fine, it's just…" Brief looked up at Angel, his expression elated and wondrous. "I've never heard anyone call my dad that! I've never even heard of anyone calling him that. Everyone was always so afraid of him, of my family, including me! I just… I never even thought about calling him a… a…"
Angel grinned, gesturing for him to continue. "A what? C'mon, kid, I won't tell! Yer daddy's a…?"
Brief's hands bunched into fists at his sides, a flush burning pink in his cheeks as something bubbled up from within him. "H-he's… He's a-a-a…"
"A…?" Angel encouraged, grinning. "You're in Hell kid. No one's gonna judge."
"ARTHUR C. ROCK IS A FUCKING CUNT!" Brief practically bellowed, cackling as he held his hands out, as though to catch the emotional deluge. "Such a cunt! And a dick, too, somehow! And an asshole!"
"He's the full cocksucking bastard package!" Angel cheered, holding out his four hands as though framing something. "A huge dickish cunty asshole!"
"Thebiggest!" Brief joined in, liberated ecstasy on his face. "They need to invent a new term just for him! He's such a-a-a…" Brief trailed off and heaved a sigh of absolute relief, his expression exultant. "Woof! Hoooooooo wow, I-I'm shaking. That was…"
Angel chuckled and mussed the kid's hair. "Felt good? Callin' the ol' fuck out?"
"Felt amazing!" Brief sighed, shakily. "God, I've just been holding in a lot, I guess." He sat on the bed, looking at the ceiling. "Jeez… can't imagine what it'd be like calling him that to his face."
"Y'can say that again!" Angel cackled. "Happy to be of service. I called him out when my old timer came down here, and trust me kid…" He sighed, nostalgically. "Best feelin' I've had since coming down to this dump, telling that to his stupid fucking face." And that little asskisser of a little brother, but no need to tell that to Brief either.
"Yeah…" Brief said, smiling up at Angel. "Thanks, Angel Dust. I think I really needed that."
The spider demon rubbed the back of his head, feeling a blush come on. To think this all started because he couldn't keep his horny in check.
"Hey, we may have had a rocky start there, but…" Angel said, patting Brief on the shoulder. "So long as we're both stuck in this dumbass hotel, why not help each other out, yeah? We're all here for a reason, and we're all fucked up in our own way, but what say we… ya know… be fucked up togedda?"
Brief looked to the ground, and then back to the gangster.
"I'd like that." He offered his hand. "So uhh, were you named Angel Dust in life?"
"Nah! S'just a nickname I picked up down here, stage-name ya know? Sorta became my name-name after a while…" Angel mused, sighing as he looked up to the ceiling. "M'real name's Anthony Dustin D'Angelo. My pa was the don of the D'Angelo Mafia in New York, all from the heart'a Brooklyn. Not that any of that matters no more…"
"I guess I can see where Angel Dust came from." Brief mused. He let out a big sigh. "Hey Angel… Anthony. Thanks. I really needed that laugh."
…
How long has it been, since someone called him by his name. His real name.
He felt something… blossom inside him.
"I can tell," Angel chuckled, softly. He looked away as a fresh surge of guilt welled within him, pushing the former feeling away. "And… sorry for coming on hard ya like that. I was a bit too curious t'see if you was 'curious'. Gah, fuck, that came out bad!" He winced, realizing what he had said.
Brief giggled a bit. "Yeah, no offense, but I'm not into guys so…"
Angel pictured a ship sinking beneath the waves, cold seawater rushing into the boilers, causing a massive explosion, bodies and full lifeboats scattered about in the maelstrom.
"Hey! At least you can take a hint!" Brief said, chuckling apologetically. "Sorry…"
"Hey, it's fine." Angel patted him on the back. "Don't sweat it! Like I said, we're in Hell, I ain't judgin'. Now, you should go get dressed. I… probably need to check on Fat Nuggets."
"Sure thing." Brief mentioned as he got up, towel still wrapped around his waist as Angel got up and saw him go to his linen closet.
Molly would have liked a kid like him.
Hell, she would have loved to take him out for a date, too. Tease him, go to Bamonte's, look at the Brooklyn Bridge at night over the river.
He'd probably tail along, unseen, juuust to be safe.
The old man wouldn't have liked it, though… and if Angel had ever heard a better endorsement for 'sister's boyfriend' material, he must have been too strung out to remember.
He smiled and went for the door, exiting and letting out a sigh of relief.
All that swell of emotions that was storming inside him, he felt like he was gonna burst. Now… Anthony felt good.
"Phew… Well that could have been-"
"A disaster?" A jovial, staticky voice crooned from behind.
"Or worse than that?" Said another, one sweet and sharp and through gritted teeth.
Angel froze as every hair on his body stood on end. "…Shit."
[X]
Stolas watched intently as the Hellhound read the spell. Magic of this nature was hardly how the media and such portrayed it, with chants and sigils and grandiose gestures. Indeed, it was less about speaking or reading or even comprehending the words themselves and more about feeling them, letting the concepts they contained synchronize with one's essence. For Royals, with their vast wells of demonic power and borne affinity for the arcane, the process was almost instinctual, but for a Hellborn to display such natural talent was, well, calling it 'rare' would be a crass understatement!
'My Blitzy has no idea what he has on his hands here,' Stolas mused, smirking. 'Even if he did, though, I doubt it would make him cherish her any more than he does already!'
Loona closed her eyes upon completing the spell, when they opened her usual silver-within-red eyes were a glowing, luminescent tyrian, the aura of the Scrye Spell pulsing and undulating. The first part, the easy part, was complete, now comes the tricky part. Loona's brow furrowed as she struggled to drum up the practice coordinates, the location being the interior of the IMP office, while still maintaining her synchronization with the spell. This part was always tricky, as it required one to think in clear, concrete terms, numbers in sequence and their corresponding meanings, while also keeping one's essence in a delicate arcane dance with the spell, a process more instinctive than conscious. Stolas watched with faint amusement as he saw the spell flicker and waver like a candle in a drafty room, each time it threatened to snuff it would bounce back at the last second until… gone.
"Ugh! Fucking–!" Loona snarled, slamming her hands on the table before remembering who was sitting opposite her, awkwardly. "Uh, sorry."
"Quite alright, my dear," Stolas said, waving her off. "If magic were easy, everybody would do it."
"I know, it's just that…" Loona sighed, shrugging. "It's like juggling, but one of the balls is normal and the other's a water balloon!"
"An apt simile, my dear," said Stolas, amused. "Having to switch back and forth between the concrete and the arcane, between thought and feeling, is tricky in and of itself. And yet for the spell to work, one must do it so quickly that the border between the two is diaphanous. Both have rules that are more or less diametrically opposed. It took me a while to figure out as well. The fact you picked up synchronizing with the spell at all is most impressive, Loona. Keep trying, don't give up."
Loona, buoyed by his encouragement, tried again. She felt the magic surge through her, vibing with her heartbeat and the latent energies of her demonic body. That was the easy part, the part she'd always had no trouble with, having been able to whip up a portal to earth in the span of an afternoon. Logic would have it that summoning a portal that bridged the interstice between realms would be more difficult that whipping up a simple peephole, but logic and magic never did quite get along in her experience. The Portal Spell was robust, powerful, a forceful shattering of the membranes of reality, it could withstand the fumbling of her conscious mind recalling the coordinates based on information. It was basically taking a hammer to a wall and punching it in essentially.
But this spell, the Scrye Spell and, weirdly, the Inter-Hell Portal Spell, were working with a lot less power and a lot more structure, like a house of cards and just as delicate. If only there was some way to cut her thinking mind out of the equation, to not bother with all that math and numbers bullshit. But how…
'Wait…' Loona thought as she felt the spell take hold. 'What if I…'
She thought back, recalled that day in the bathroom, when she'd smelled her hair, smelled him on her, determining once and for all his identity. Memories of the ensuing clusterfuck came to her, Vortex and Yula's panic, Brief's innocent suggestion regarding the Happy Hotel. She knew, as a Hellhound, her first instinct with anything was to notice scents, to remember them. If she could remember his scent clearly enough, hold that in her mind, she could…
Stolas blinked in surprise as, quite unexpectedly, the young Hellhound activated her Soul Tracking ability. This was an inborn mystical trait specific to the Hellhounds, allowing them, among other things to… to find any Soul, anywhere, when provided with their scent! It helped her find Blitzo and Moxxie when they were caught(to say nothing of the Infernal Equine Shampoo Blitzo uses on the regular) Could she…?
Loona's eyes snapped open, the tyrian glow flared for a moment before, incredibly, coalescing into a series of bright, glowing lines, the leylines of the spell. The lines quickly intersected and pulled apart, the Scrye aperture manifesting between them before the lines and aperture arranged into a crude sort of visor over the Hellhound's eyes.
"I did it?" She said, focusing her eyes which snapped open wide, an elated smile lighting up her face. "I did it! Holy shit, I can see him! He's… oh…"
"My word, Loona!" Stolas exclaimed, shooting to his face, amazed. "That was incredible! You used your natural abilities to synergize with the lattice of the spell, completely removing the need to jostle between two modes of thought! For me I simply use mediums and catalyst like my own feather particles mixed with bubbles and bathwater but you, you can draw it out like that!" He said, his four eyes wide and giddy with pride and joy. "
Amazing! Wondrous! Genius! My dear, you are–My dear? Loona?" Loona was staring dead ahead through the aperture, a furious blush forming in her cheeks and ears, mouth hanging slightly open in dumbfounded shock. If Stolas didn't know better, he could have sworn he could see the drool begin to form in the corners of her mouth. "Loona? What is it? What do you see?"
"Huh?" Loona blinked and looked around, as though snapping out of a trance. "Whuh? Uh! Oh! I, uh, I just saw–like I didn't mean to, it was just…" She shook her head, dispersing the spell, blushing as much out of embarrassment as out of… something else. "Nevermind. I-I think I'll be waiting a spell before trying that, uh, spell."
Stola's eyes narrowed as a raptor's smile spread across his beaked face; he knew that look. "Accidentally peeped in on a compromising moment, eh?" Loona's blush deepened as she averted her eyes, prompting Stolas to throw his head back and laugh. "Oh-ho-ho-ho~ Don't worry, my dear! That's the risk you run with this sort of spell. I certainly hope it wasn't, er, too intimate."
"N-no, he looked like he was done showering, like, wearing just a towel and then…" She cleared her throat, cheeks flush with something besides scandal. "He wasn't."
"And then? And a 'he' as well?" Stolas asked, eyebrow quirked and smirk growing as Loona's lips puckered in, her eyes darting off to the side.
"Y-you won't tell Blitz, right?" She asked. Stolas smirked a little.
"If he's that friend of yours in therapy, well, it can be our little secret." He said bending over and giving her a coy pinch on her cheek.
Loona let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Mr. Stolas…"
"Of course. And about your friend, one mustn't judge, my dear," Stolas tittered. "Cold air after a hot shower, there's bound to be some shrinkage."
"Shrinkage?" Loona repeated, before muttering, sotto voice. "If that was shrinkage…"
"Pardon?"
"Nothing!" She said, getting to her feet, clearing her throat and bowing shallowly to the Prince. "Thank you so much for teaching me, Stolas. Really, it'll be a huge help with, uh, 'business'!"
"Of course. I'll let you be on your way, then. Oh, wait, one more thing!" Stolas stepped forward and took her hand into his own, bowing lightly. "It was my sincere pleasure to witness a true, natural-born talent such as yourself at work. Truly, my dear, you have a gift, and it would be my honor to assist you in any further mystical pursuits that catch your fancy."
"A natural? Me?" Loona said, flatfooted, pink returning to her cheeks. "You mean, like, for a Hellhound?"
"I mean, 'like', for a demon," said Stolas, setting a huge, taloned hand on her shoulder, squeezing with a friendly pressure. "Loona, my dear, you have the gift. I'd always known you had the knack, but merging your natural abilities with the Spell like you did just now was inspired! Never hesitate to 'hit me up' the next time you have a spell you want to learn. It would be a pleasure to watch you, as you kids say, 'cook'."
Loona cringed internally at the attempt at hip-speak, but a flare of pride and elation quickly snuffed it; the Prince really thought so? Then again, she couldn't hide the little wag of her tail. "Thank you so much, Stolas. I'm sure another spell will catch my eye."
"As am I," said Stolas, turning around and sidling away as he handed her the grimoire. "I'll not keep you from your business a moment longer, dearie. Give Blitzy my best, will you?"
"Yeah, of course," she said, making for the door. "Thanks again, Stolas!"
"Don't mention it!" He said, chuckling before clearing his throat, his tone becoming hushed and serious. "Seriously. Don't mention it. Teaching magic to Hellborn isn't technically illegal, but it's, er…"
"French for Left?" Loona said, smirking.
"Oh?" Stolas blinked, processing for a moment before chuckling and nodded. "Gauche, yes!"
"My lips are sealed." Loona replied as Stolas chuckled. "If yours are as well."
"Huh, a secret for a secret. You'd be a natural fit in Court." Stolas said amusingly. "Well, I'll let you be off. I finished my duties and your teachings. Practice on your own if you wish. I would love to see your progress come the next full moon."
"I will. Thank you again!" Loona went to the van, getting in and was soon off on her way.
(X)
Vortex and Nebula milled about their house, trying to keep busy. Vortex glanced down at his phone, to his bank account and the pleasingly fat sum deposited there. Verosika had made splendid time cobbling together a soundtrack, but insisted on another week's worth of sessions for fine-tuning. If the lurid succubus had one redeeming feature the hound could articulate, it was her dedication to her craft and bottomless work ethic. Still, if it meant another week at this pay, maybe he and Yula would be able to drop a lump sum into their house fund. Finally get a house to own rather than rent!
He noticed a stray beer bottle still sitting on the counter in the living room, hidden from clean-up behind a flower pot. A remnant of that party that, despite the mere days that had passed, seemed like forever ago. Of course, getting roped into a potentially apocalyptic conspiracy tended to do a number on one's perception of time.
Inexorably, his thoughts drifted back to Brief, the cause of all this trouble. Well, not the cause, but the VIP to be sure, the key to Hell's unraveling. The Key to the Gates of Hell. How was he doing right now? What was he doing? What was the Princess doing to help him? The kid had one Hell of a monkey (ha ha) on his back and Vortex dearly hoped that she could find the right banana to get the fucker off of him. So many questions. So much going on. So much–
Vortex and Yula both jumped and recoiled as a bright point of light flared to life in the middle of their livingroom, blossoming into a glowing portal, out of which stepped a very familiar hellhound. He and Yula exchanged glances and nodded, pulling out their Hellphones and powering them down.
"Loona!" Yula exclaimed, rushing over as the portal shut. "You got it to work? The Prince helped you?"
"Yeah," said Loona, rubbing her arm awkwardly. "Still a few kinks to iron out, but I think I got this traveling Hell thing sorted. How did you know about Stolas?" She asked.
"Told her that your boss had a thing for'im, given it has been spreading around my work like gossip." Vortex exclaimed, grinning. "Yula and I got all the analogue hardware stuff sorted. We should be able to keep in contact without getting snooped."
"Now all we have to do is get our contact info to Brief," said Yula, turning back to Loona. "When do you think you can get us there?"
"Anytime, really," said Loona, blushing a bit. "But I think we should give him a minute to get, uh, dressed."
"Dressed?" Yula asked with a raised eyebrow as Vortex blinked.
"Nevermind," said Loona, quickly as she paled. "Speaking of getting dressed, do you guys have anything with Brief's scent on it? I can recall his scent pretty well, but I think I'd need something a little more solid to portal in there, especially if the Princess has the place warded."
"Oh yeah, sure!" Yula said, galloping up stairs. "I think I still have that shirt he wore that night!"
"That'll do great," said Loona, turning to Vortex. "Any word on, like, what the Vees are up to?"
"No more chats with Ozzie, if that's what you mean," said Vortex, shrugging. "But I've noticed a few flickers on screens and shit when Verosika's at the studio. I'd bet milkbones Vox is keeping close tabs on Ozzie's people while they're there. That includes me." He held up his powered down phone. "He seems more interested in Verosika since she's closer to Ozzie, but we're not taking any chances."
"Good thinking," said Loona, turning as Yula hurried down the stairs, shirt in hand, her sensitive nose already detecting the distinctive Human scent on it. "Alright, let's go." She got her Grimoire and began to focus…
(X)
"Angel…" Charlie said, reproachfully, her hands on her hips as she glared at the hangdog spider-demon, who was dressed in what she could only describe as tactical fetish gear. "What were you doing in Brief's room?"
"N-nothin'!" Angel exclaimed, glancing over his shoulder at Alastor, who was standing in a dark corner, his grinning face illuminated by his glowing red eyes. "Honest! I just wanted to talk to 'im!"
"Dressed like that?" Charlie pointed at his attire with hardened eyes.
"It's my Dark Eldar cosplay?" Angel offered, lamely. "He's the expert, yeah?"
Charlie said nothing, expression neutral as her pupils flashing sun-orange as her sclera glowed crimson.
"Okay okay okay! Chill out Chuck!" Angel cried, holding out his hands. "Yeah, okay, so I didn't exactly go in there with the best intentions, ya know… wanted a little roll in the hay, blow off steam for the both of us, but nothin' happened! I can take a hint, the kid don't swing that way, so I left! No harm no foul!"
"So you left after trying to force yourself on a vulnerable young man, you mean?" Charlie said, tone so cold it'd clench Satan's pucker, twin horns threatening to rise from her crown. Alastor sniggered off to the side.
"It wasn't like that, Charlie!" Angel exclaimed, a little affronted despite himself. "Well, okay, it was. A little. But we patched things up! Had a heart to heart! I got 'im to vent a little about his pops and this whole Key bullshit! We had a good laugh callin' his Old Man names! It was wholesome as apple pie!"
"The kind with a hole in it, I'm sure," Alastor sniped. "American Pie."
"You've seen that flick?"
"I assure you, Angel, I've not tainted my eyes with a screen since–" Alastor paused, his ear flicking, before turning to Charlie, who stood alert, her features returning to normal. "Charlie."
"I felt it too," she said, turning to face the door. "Someone's portaling in."
"Wait what." Angel uttered.
"Someone with a lot of power," growled Alastor, his antlers growing like demonic trees. "To bypass my wards." His eyes burning red as his staff glowed as Charlie got in front of Angel Dust, eyes hard.
A loud thud was heard from within Brief's room, followed by a commotion of sorts. The two powerful demons moved for the door instantly, only for Charlie to skid to a stop with her hand on the handle.
"Charlie?" Alastor inquired, his aura glowing.
"Wait," she whispered, pressing her ear to the door. "Just wait a minute…"
(X)
Brief pulled the tank top on and looked himself over in the mirror. Tank top and baggy boxers, his go-to bedtime gear. Despite his name, he'd never much cared for briefs, too tight and constricting, too much riding. Especially since… that day.
His first time.
He looked down at the boxers, baggy and long-legged, stretching a solid half-way down his thigh, but even then they didn't exactly leave much to imagination. Ever since that day, when Corset had tried to open the Gates the first time, there had been some, er, 'changes'. His doctor had told him that sudden growth spurts were normal for a teen, even a late teen as he had been at the time. She also noted, under her breath (as if he couldn't hear) and a serious blush in her cheeks that a six-inch growth spurt in height was rare, much less below the belt.
So, boxers were his go-to undergarment, as containing the Key would invariably turn a pair of briefs into a thong. 'Is it because Corset activated the curse, or because my first time was with an Angel?' He thought to himself.
He quashed that line of thought immediately. Any and all memories of his first time, any and all memories of her, set a bitter, acidic burn in his guts. No, he wouldn't think about her, about any of them. About his 'friends'.
'Friends…' He thought as he set off for bed, hopping onto the mattress and rolling onto his back, staring at the ceiling. 'Were they ever my friends? I mean, Chuck and Scanty and Kneesocks were alright, but…'
Chuck was a troublesome dog, and always loved a good hump. Not to mention he was a peerless imbecile with a penchant for exploding.
The demon sisters were very matter-of-fact. They didn't beat around the bush and sometimes dressed him down when he acted improperly, such as getting the silverware mixed up or if he snored too loud. Brusque and persnickety as any of the tedious debutants he was compelled to associate with at his father's funding events.
"Where were they when I…?" He muttered aloud, staring hard at the ceiling, the flat white plaster shifting and churning as his eyes tried to see patterns that weren't there, little white flashes swimming about at the periphery.
But after hard days and nights dealing with ghosts and fending off that burly, perverted priest, trying to sleep solo, Chuck would always be by his side whenever he awoke. Brief often wondered if Chuck ever 'intercepted' Garter's attempts at late-night romance. He liked to think so.
The demon sisters would try to groom him at least, make him 'presentable', but always with a degree of affection. To say nothing of their shopping sprees, unsuccessful attempts to emancipate him of his baggy green jumpsuit. There were times when, out on ghostbusting missions, he'd fall asleep cold and miserable, only to wake up covered by their jackets. They'd claim, icily despite their rosy blushes, that their demonic constitutions negated the need for such things, and that his frail Human body was a hindrance. They at the very least looked out for him as a comrade in their crusade back in Oten City.
Less said about Garterbelt the better, thoughts making Brief's skin crawl as he hugged himself.
There was the dismissive glare of his father when he returned. The literal negligence of how he wouldn't even acknowledge him.
And Panty…
The thoughts of self-loathing. Doubt. Anxiety. All of it swirled in his gut as he reached up, clapping his hands to his face as he lay flat.
"Why didn't I reach out? Why didn't I trust them to help? Did I ever trust them? Trust them like I trust–" Something flashed on the ceiling. Brief, still lost in his ruminations, ignored it as an optical illusion. Then, it got bigger, brighter. He blinked and focused on it. "Huh?"
The spot flared and expanded, forming a flaming circle on his roof. A large, dark blob manifested in the bright circle, shapeless at first but soon becoming defined, a distinct mass of… limbs?
Then, it grew.
No. It didn't grow. It was getting closer.
"Whoa!"
"What's going–?" A familiar voice called out. "Shiiit!"
Brief cried out in alarm as three large Hellhounds tumbled out of the portal, attempting to scramble out of the way as the huge, heavy forms of Nebula, Vortex, and Loona tumbled out of the portal on his ceiling. The bedframe groaned as over 800lbs of Hellhound crashed down onto it, the springs screaming as the boxspring buckled for a moment before snapping back into shape.
(X)
"Loona, what the fuck!" Vortex grumbled, shifting on top of Nebula, who was face-down on the bed. "The ceiling? Really?!"
"Fuuuck…" Loona groaned, draped across his hard, rippling back. "I told you, there're still some kinks to iron out!"
"Kinks my ass!" Nebula growled, shifting them on top of her. "Get off of me, Tex! It's like getting body-slammed by a beefside!"
"Sorry, babe," Vortex said, hopping off the bed, Loona still splayed across his back, her rump thudding on the hardwood floor.
"Ow!" Loona hissed, rubbing her bottom as she got up and looked around. "Where's Brief? He should be here."
"Maybe the place smells like him?" Vortex offered.
"No, I used Soul Scent," said Loona, peeking into the bathroom and she sniffed. "He's here, somewhere." His scent was all over the place!
"OH MY GOD!" Nebula cried, causing them both to snap around. "BRIEFY! ARE YOU OKAY, HONEY?!"
On the bed was Nebula, reared up from the mattress. Under her was a dazed but still alive Brief, his body eclipsed by Nebula's voluptuous bulk, his head peeking up from beneath her generous bosom.
"Mmmmmngh…" Brief groaned.
"Jeez!" Vortex cried, running over. "Get off him, babe, you're crushing him!"
"Are you calling me fat?" The silver haired wolfess asked, pointedly as Loona looked at them back and forth.
"Not now, babe!" He said, pointing at the flush, stupefied face peeking out from under her bust. "Get off him!"
"Oh right!" Nebula hopped off the bed, fretting at the tiny, pale form laying spread-eagle in the crater that used to be a mattress. "Brief! Brief! Can you hear me?! Are you okay, baby? Say something!"
"Good thing you went first with those airbags," said Loona, smirking. "If it'd been Vortex, he'd be a wet spot on the sheets!" She let out an awkward laugh, trying to lighten the mood.
"Quiet you!" Nebula snapped, her red eyes boring into the white haired Hellhound. "What was that all about, dropping us right on top of him! You could have killed him!"
"What a way to go…" Brief groaned, shaking his head as he sat up as he looked back and forth. "Ooogh… Wait! Vortex? Nebula? Loona? W-what are you doing here? How'd you get here? What–?" Brief's questions were cut off when Nebula scooped him up into a crushing, pillowy hug, his face going beet red. "O-okay."
"Oh Briefy it's gonna be okaaaay~" Nebula cooed, holding him like a teddy bear as the boy's head went back into her mountainous bust.
…
Loona's eyebrow twitched as Vortex rolled his eye, a wry and relieved smile on his face.
"Loona visited Prince Stolas of the Goetia and learned a few new spells," said Vortex, sitting down next to the two. "Now we can keep an eye on you and visit without being tracked. Figured we'd swing by and give you our new contact info. How have you been, kid?"
"Huh?" Brief said, turning in Nebula's embrace to look at Vortex, pulling his face away from her 'impact padding'. "Oh. Uh, good? Things have been good. Wait. Prince Stolas?" He perked up. "As in Stolas of the Ars Goetia? You'd see him just to help me?" He turned to Loona, who flinched under his gaze as she rubbed her arm, looking away.
"Yeah, he's a… 'friend' of my, uh, dad," said Loona, blushing at his wondrous tone. "It's no biggie. He's cool. For a royal, anyway."
"Still, I mean…" Brief said, peering out from behind his bangs, his emerald eyes staring back to her reds. "Thank you so much, Loona."
Loona felt her heart skip a beat, a flush burning in her cheeks as she turned away. "I-it's fine. Uh, happy to help!"
"Make any friends here, Briefy?" Nebula cooed, still clinging to him as she petted her hair and Loona began to glare a little at her. Getting too… petty there.
(X)
"Friends?" Brief paused for a moment, thinking back to Angel–no–Anthony, then to the trio of Hellions around him, low-born demons who, in defiance of a Demon King, had cared for him and ferried him away to safety. Safety with the Princess of Hell, the sweet and caring daughter of Lucifer Himself. A small smile crept across his face, his freckled cheeks flushing as he heart swelled. "…Yeah. Yeah, I've made friends."
He'd made friends, alright. He had to literally go to Hell to do it, but he'd made friends. He'd come to Hell, now he just had to get back. Whatever that meant, he didn't know, but he knew one thing, at least: he wasn't alone.
They didn't notice the door, open a crack, or the eyes peering through it. It closed silently, without so much as a creak or click, the figures outside leaving the reunion to play out.
"So!" Nebula said, finally releasing the lad. "I gotta say, curiosity has been killing me! What have you been up to?" She asked, standing up with her hands on her hips.
"Yeah," said Vortex. "Like, what's redemption even involve?"
"Heh!" Brief chuckled. "Group therapy. Arts and crafts, apparently. Oh! And Warhammer 40k!"
"Warhammer 40k?" Loona inquired, cocking her head. "What's that?"
"Okay, so it's–" Brief and Vortex said in unison, looking at each other for a moment before they sniggered a little, and then breaking out into laughter.
(X)
Laughter echoed down the darkened hallway outside, ringing in the tall, pointed ears of the Radio Demon as he strolled down the hall after the Princess. He clasped his taloned hands behind his back, his grin widening. 'Could that lad make it? Certainly not. No one can change. That said, as much as I love to see a Soul falter and fail, I admit the look on Ozzie's face when his Key amscrays out of his clutches… The rage, the frustration, the despair! Ahhh… sweet dreams are made of this…''
"So uhhhh, am I off the hook?" Angel asked as Charlie looked back at him.
"For now, yes." Charlie sighed. "But Angel? Don't. Do. That. Again. Not under this roof. Okay?"
"Yeah. I know, Charlie." The spider demon hugged his arm. "Sorry… it won't happen again." He looked back at her before taking a deep breath. "I swear on my sister's soul it won't." The seductive tone of his voice was gone, and Alastor's eyebrow rose.
Swearing on another's soul? How rich for a Sinner. That said… the look in the Spider Demon's eyes was different.
He didn't… mean it? Did he?
Charlie took a deep breath, and patted the taller demon on the arm. "Alright. I believe you. Thank you for owning up to this Angel. This is a good step towards your own redemption!" She said, chipper as ever as Alastor rolled his eyes.
He didn't sense malice or lies from the porn star, so clearly the spider demon meant it.
Well, all the better it will be to witness when Angel Dust inevitably falls back to his old ways. After all, people can't change. No matter how much they try.
"I, uhhh, better go check on Nuggets. Then I'll go help in the kitchen! Pretty sure the goats can use a hand or six."
Doing menial tasks to help atone in the eyes of a rather miffed Princess? Oh how banal and quaint.
The spider demon trotted off as Charlie took a big sigh of relief.
"Are you going to do something about that dogpile in your favorite patient's room?" Alastor droned.
"I'll go talk to them. But later." Charlie sighed, a small relieved smile on her face. "Seeing him like that… his face just lit up when he saw them." She looked up at the ceiling. "I'm happy for him…"
"That said, those mutts are rather brazen," Alastor replied. "Why, if they were in league with Chanticleer, they would be off to the Lust Ring right now," Charlie's face fell, realization setting in. "And poor poor Briefers Rock would be that rooster's toy and the End of All That Is and Will Be will commence." He grinned. "Methinks you should do something about those Arcane Wards."
How like Charlie Magne, to take for granted that her status would mean no-one would have the balls to try and trespass on her turf. Not that Alastor himself was inclined to, say, gobble up a few extra souls to empower his own Wards. Gracious no! And he certainly wasn't upset over some Goetia spell getting through his immaculate security net, Paimon's seed managing to get one over him. Ridiculous! Oh, and he wasn't at all livid that the one who broke through his Wards was a fucking hellhound.
If this got out, the other Overlords would never let him hear the end of it. The thought alone was making his eye twitch and his clutch on his precious staff tighten.
"Can I trust you to… boost up the Wards?" Charlie asked. "Those kinds of spells aren't my speciality." She said, bashfully. "I'll let you know once I've talked with Brief's friends, if we can make an exception for them."
"But of course my dear. Just try to have those beasts out of our hair before long." Alastor mused as he sauntered down the hallway, staff behind his back. "I'm not exactly a dog person after all."
"Okay. I'll keep an eye on Brief. And Alastor, thanks." Charlie said sincerely. Gratefully. How droll. How deliciously naive.
"No thanks necessary my dear. We both have images to uphold and places to protect." And he began to hum along.
Time to go to one of those turf wars always raging about. Time to collect on some debts…
Asmodeus' pet monkey might be happy for now with his pack of mongrels. But a Human is a Human. And he was down here for a reason.
The Radio Demon's shadow licked its chops as Alastor began to vanish. Let Briefers feel better. Think he can get better.
It would make his fall from grace, Charlotte's futile sisyphean efforts, their collective failure, all the sweeter. All the more entertaining.
And then? When they're at wits end perhaps?
They may just come to him…
"I'll have your souls, one way another, dear Princess," Alastor chuckled as he faded, the whir of the radio buzzing in the hallway. "And maybe you as well, monkey. And perhaps, with you both under my thumb…" He chuckled as he vanished.
He would finally, finally, be free.
Big thanks to Wr1teAn0n for this one. He wrote this up.
But yeah, Loona has some magical talent, Brief and Angel had a 'dust up' and a very important realization for both parties, and in the end their bond strengthened. And our hounds reunite with our geekboy and now Alastor is going to lie in wait and let things fall into place...
Hope you all enjoyed. See ya in the next one.