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zaebeecee · 6 months ago

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To Sever a Loveless Bond

••RadioDust Soulmate AU••

Part 9/?

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•••

Look, when I say slow burn, I mean SLOW BURN, but I try to make the payoffs worth the wait.

Also, this whole fic takes place before the Full Moon Episode and exists in a different continuity.

Not that I’m bringing that up for any reason or anything.

•••

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you right. You did… what?”

“I outsourced your little stalking job,” Velvette repeated, sending off an email to the design department and flipping over to Voxstagram to post the series of selfies she had taken at the previous night’s fashion show. “Or I’m in the process of outsourcing it, at least.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Velvette saw Vox clasp his hands in front of his face like he would have done to pinch the bridge of his nose in life, his eyes closing. He was still sitting, which was a good thing; whenever Vox started pacing in the meeting room, that was when she knew there was a problem.

“And… why, precisely, did you do that?” Vox asked after a long pause, lowering his hands and opening his eyes halfway to stare blithely at her with a smile that twitched at one corner.

Velvette stopped halfway through typing a caption to let her hand drop to the side, her head rolling to give him a full-on look. “Because the photography department, which I contacted first by your request, doesn’t have anyone expendable.”

“Why is that?”

“Because some moody bitch killed their low earners.” Velvette snapped her head to look at the other side of the table, her neck clicking audibly. Valentino didn’t sit up from his dramatic lounge, he simply glared at her through his sunglasses. “Which means their entire department is tied up right now, mostly because Verosika Mayday’s tour has come back to Pride and you assigned them to cover that for two weeks. The department was already stretched thin as it was and now there are only four people in it.”

Vox looked like he was trying very, very hard to maintain his veneer of calm. His smile dropped into a frown and he folded his hands on the table, looking at Valentino instead. “You killed half the photography department?”

“They were placed inconveniently. I merely moved them.”

“And moved their internal organs onto the walls,” Velvette complained. “Now I’m having to run damage control with the janitorial staff because he slaughtered them in a room with pearl white carpet, and if they refuse to clean it, killing them won’t get it cleaned faster and will mean more blood that won’t get mopped up.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Vox said, closing his eyes. “What do you mean, you’re outsourcing it?”

Velvette went back to her phone, finishing up the caption. “Since we don’t have anyone expendable in house, I found a service who’ll do it at a reasonable enough rate and who aren’t tied to us, so if they die or get caught, who cares? I haven’t hired them yet, obviously, it’s your call. They’re supposed to come by sometime this morning to get the details and sign a contract if you approve. And if they end up agreeing, I suppose, I only told their boss that we want them to shadow some people.”

“Am I capable of an aneurysm? I feel like I’m going to have an aneurysm,” Vox muttered to himself. “Okay. Fine. This isn’t ideal, but fine. You’re sure we can trust them not to publicly tie this back to us?”

“Pretty sure they’ll do anything for the right price,” Velvette said.

Seemingly satisfied for the moment, Vox agreed, then redirected their board meeting to things that Velvette considered to be actually worth discussing. Valentino was still moody and quiet, only speaking when directly addressed, and even then usually just when it was Vox talking to him. It was… weird, and Velvette didn’t like feeling stuck in a room with him when he was like this.

Nearly an hour later, the intercom on the table buzzed, and a receptionist spoke in a tentative voice. “Miss Velvette?”

She reached out and pressed the button. “Talk to me.”

“There, ah… there’s an incredibly rude imp in the lobby who’s insisting he has an appointment with you? He and his party won’t leave. Or, he won’t, and he won’t let them, either.”

Judging by their brief phone conversation, that was them. “Send them up to the board room.”

“What— um. Yes. Of course.”

The line went dead, and Velvette sat back in her chair. Both of the men were staring at her. “An imp?” Vox asked dryly, raising an eyebrow.

“Told you. Nobody whose death would matter.”

Ten minutes later, the elevator in the hallway dinged, and the door to the conference room opened. The receptionist, probably the one from the intercom, came in enough to hold the door open and let in the ones she was leading. Velvette was pretty sure she knew what to expect, and it was only slightly different than her visual. There were three imps, one male who was remarkably tall (for an imp), well-dressed, and covered in burn scars; one shorter male with white hair and a nervous sort of posture; and one female with a gap in her teeth who was staring at everything in the room like a wide-eyed hayseed. The only part Velvette didn’t anticipate was the hellhound that followed, a young woman with her eyes on her phone who hadn’t been in the commercial.

“You know something?” the tallest imp said, turning to walk backwards as he looked at the employee whose name Velvette couldn’t be bothered to remember. “You are a terrible receptionist. I’m astonished you still have a job.”

“Sir, you can’t just say that!” the shorter male snapped. “We have a receptionist that answers the phone with ‘what the fuck do you want?’ and how is that better?!”

“He didn’t mean that, you’re doin’ a great job,” the female imp said in a thick accent common among Wrath-raised imps, waving her hands at the receptionist. “He’s just an asshole. I am so sorry.”

With a roll of her eyes, the VoxTek employee shook her head and stepped out again, shutting the door. The four approached the table, stopping a short distance away from it.

“Ohh,” Vox said softly, blinking twice before he pointed between them. “I recognize the three of you, at least. You run commercial campaigns with us. You’re the Immediate Murder Professionals.”

“And you’re the Vees,” the tall imp said with a smirk that suggested he was not, in the slightest, nervous about being a member of the lowest class of Hell society in a room with three sinner overlords. “I’m Blitz. The O is silent. This is Millie, Moxxie, my trusted and my tolerated employees, and Loona, my daughter.”

“Hi, I love yer fish tank,” Millie said, one hand behind her back and the other half raised to give them a wave. “Big fan of So You Think You Can Garrote, too, season three was a blast.”

Moxxie was staring at the three of them unblinkingly, and Velvette couldn’t tell if he was frozen with terror or debating pulling a gun on them. “…hello.”

Loona didn’t so much as glance up from her phone, but she did move the hand crossed over her chest enough to extend two fingers in acknowledgment.

Vox glanced at Velvette. “This is what you call outsourcing?”

“I thought they only did up top murder,” Valentino suddenly added, his eyes on the Hellborn. “They don’t look like private investigators.”

“Because we’re not,” Moxxie said, his voice harsh. “Sir, I’m sorry, but what the fuck did you tell them we do?”

“Moxxie, when I want your opinion, I’ll give it to you,” Blitzø said, then addressed the table again. “It’s not our usual bag, no, but Velvette was incredibly persuasive on the phone. Financially speaking, anyway.”

Vox shrugged. “I can appreciate a little rapaciousness. Fine,” he said, ignoring Valentino’s very clear ‘what the fuck does that mean’ squint and motioning them over. “Come, sit down. Just not next to Valentino if you like your arms where they are.”

Moxxie cast Valentino an alarmed look as Millie hooked their elbows together and pulled him to the other side of the table. Blitzø navigated Loona to a chair and she sat without paying much attention, and then he took up the space next to her. “Mind if we ask what this is all about?” Blitzø asked.

Vox tapped the table with his fingertips. “What were you told?”

“Not much. Just that you had a possible job that wasn’t in our… usual wheelhouse, per se, and involved shadowing a couple of people and not getting caught.” Blitzø shrugged. “And I told her yeah, fuck it, we don’t really have any regular work goin’ on right now.”

Vox leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, gesturing at Blitzø with a limp-wristed, palm-up hand that he absolutely was not aware of. “Alright, here’s the deal. If you take the job, you’ll be following two people whenever they’re out together, and reporting everything back to me. This will include photographs, and we’ll tell you how to take them.” Millie and Moxxie looked at each other, but Vox was still looking at their boss. “You don’t need to know why we want this information, and you won’t ask. In return, if you get into any kind of trouble with them and can escape alive, we’ll shelter you here and ensure they don’t get to you. You also won’t be officially associated with us to your benefit. And you will be compensated for the risk.”

“Huh.” Blitzø folded his hands in his lap and leaned back in his chair, licking his teeth with a forked tongue. Velvette watched intently, and then wondered when the fuck she started finding an imp hot.

I don’t want to fuck him. Do I want to fuck him?

Blitzø then shrugged, and she was jarred out of the fairly disturbing thought. “I don’t really care why you want them followed or what the fuck ever. I take it you don’t want them shot.”

Velvette snorted, glad for something to hold on to that wasn’t… whatever that was because imps were not attractive. “More like you don’t want to shoot them.”

“Sinners?” Blitzø asked. Vox nodded affirmatively, and the imp groaned, tipping his head back. “Throat fuck me with a cactus— okay. Fine. No shooting anyone.”

“Sir,” Moxxie hissed across the table, leaning forward on the wooden surface. “You are not seriously going to make us stalk sinners, are you?”

“Yeah, Blitzø, I mean… I’m all fer a lil’ sneakin’ around and gettin’ our ninja on, but…” Millie was clearly struggling with her next words, but settled on, “We’re gonna die. Ya know that, right?”

“I haven’t died once in my entire life,” Blitzø said dismissively, focusing on Vox again. “I take it there’s a reason you haven’t told us who, yet, and I don’t think you’d be that interested in the daily happenings of Johnny Fuckoff, so…”

Vox smiled. “The first one is Angel Dust. You’re familiar?”

“Porn star?” Blitzø’s eyes widened. “Fuck yeah, we’ll stalk a porn star for you!” Moxxie put his face in his hands and made a sound that reminded Velvette of someone screaming into a pillow in frustration.

“Shouldn’t you find out who the second person is before you get all gross and weird about this job?” Loona asked in a voice that, as Velvette anticipated, was bog standard moody young woman.

Blitzø rolled his eyes. “I mean, I’m kinda sold at this point, but sure. Who’s the second?”

“The Radio Demon,” Vox said, and the next three sentences came in such quick succession that they were right on top of each other.

“…the Radio Demon,” Blitzø repeated, his voice flat.

“The Radio Demon?!” Moxxie asked in a bald display of pure, unadulterated horror as he lowered his hands.

“The Radio Demon??” Millie squealed with sudden, genuine excitement, bouncing up and down in her chair.

Loona actually lowered her phone to look at Vox, blinking wide canine eyes slowly.

“Huh.” Blitzø was quiet for a moment. “…well, I don’t know what I was expecting.”

“No! No, no, no no, absolutely not.” Moxxie got to his feet and slammed his hands on the table, glaring at his boss. “We are not stalking the Radio Demon!”

“Look, Moxxie, unless you are prepared to start selling a lot of feet pics in Lust, we are going to have to make money somehow, as that is currently an issue!” Blitzø stood as well and leaned forward into Moxxie’s face, pressing his finger into the other imp’s forehead. “So unless you have a better idea of how we can actually afford rent that doesn’t involve bitching like a little piss baby bitch, sit down and let your wife make your decisions!”

Millie reached up and pulled Moxxie back into his seat. “Come on, sweetie, we won’t even be gettin’ near ‘em! And come on, I wanna see the Radio Demon…!” she wheedled.

“But… aw, honey, don’t give me that look…!”

“It’s settled. We’ll do it,” Blitzø said. “I mean, I know it’s none of my business why the Radio Demon is apparently going on dates with a porn star—”

“They are not going on dates!!” Valentino slammed his hands into the table as he stood up, towering over them. “You are going to find out what the fuck is going on, and you are going to tell me, and then I am going to beat that fucking deer man with his own goddamn spine!!”

“Satan’s left nut, you are a tall motherfucker,” Blitzø said, holding his hands up in front of his face but not cowering. “Calm down, Mothman, we’ll get you your info, okay? Goddamn, get some Valium or something.”

Velvette stared at him, and she knew the other Vees—and probably his own people—were doing the same. Valentino, however, looked absolutely apoplectic. “You should mind your tongue when you’re talking to your betters! Do you even know who you’re fucking talking to, malparido?!”

Blitzø didn’t budge. In fact, he was grinning. “Uh… the Pride ring’s most confoundingly accomplished pornography hack?”

In an instant, Valentino’s gun was in his hand and he had Blitzø by the lapels in another, hauling him off the ground and shoving the barrel of his weapon under the imp’s jaw. “I’ll fucking blow your goddamn head off—!!”

“VAL!”

Immediately, Valentino twisted his head around to look at Vox, who was on his feet with his hands on the table and his left eye wide and pulsating. Valentino twitched, his teeth gritted with some kind of effort, before he released Blitzø. The imp fell back into his chair with an inelegant noise, then immediately slipped out of it and vanished underneath the table. “Ow, shit—!”

Vox kept his eyes on Valentino. His left eye was no longer pulsing, but he didn’t straighten. “You are not going to shoot our contract employees. You are going to sit down. You are going to fucking behave yourself. Alternatively, you are going to leave. Those are your choices. Pick one.”

Valentino’s lip curled and he looked like he wanted to put a fist straight through Vox’s screen. If it had been anyone else, he would have. Instead, he just threw his chair back so hard it crashed to the ground and slid several feet, storming out of the room.

“I’ll deal with him,” Vox said to Velvette, holding out a placating hand. “I apologize about Valentino. He hasn’t… been himself, lately,” he added to IMP as he sat back down.

Blitzø grabbed the edge of the table and hauled himself off the floor, muttering under his breath. “Fuckin’ sensitive ass Hallmark greeting card kaiju-lookin ass.” He sat down, releasing a breath and holding his hands out. “We’re good. I’m fine.”

“Sir can you please not antagonize the overlords,” Moxxie hissed. Velvette thought all three of them were showing a remarkable lack of concern for their boss’s wellbeing, which told her that he did this kind of thing a lot.

“You aren’t scared of much, are you, Blitzø?” Vox asked, a spark of interest in his voice that hadn’t been there earlier.

Blitzø shrugged, looking completely unbothered. “I’ve had fights with a Goetian prince, been yelled at by Asmodeus, gotten into a drinking contest with Beelzebub, and pointed a gun at a pissed off Mammon. No offense, but sinners aren’t exactly my biggest concern.”

Vox raised an eyebrow at Velvette, then looked at Blitzø again. “Well, you might be full of shit and lying right to our faces. You also might be telling the truth. Either way, that’s exactly the kind of grit I appreciate in someone. If you want the job, it’s yours. We’ll get you genned up.”

“Fuck yes,” Blitzø said with a grin, rubbing his hands together. Moxxie groaned and let his head fall to the table with a heavy thud, and Millie patted his back. “Let’s do this shit.”

•••

“Has anybody seen Alastor?”

Angel looked up from his spot on the lobby’s lounge floor, laid out on his stomach with his legs bent and ankles crossed. “Uh… no, not today,” he said, lowering the colored paper in his hands. “Why?”

Charlie frowned a little, her hands on her hips, and tapped her foot on the floor. “I can’t find him. He wanted to meet with me to talk about something, but that was over an hour ago.”

“He left last night!” Niffty chirped. She, too, was lying on the floor; Vaggie was sitting kitty-corner to both of them, her legs crossed, and Fat Nuggets was wandering between the three of them with no particular destination in his cute little head. A pile of colored paper was only barely stacked between them, as well as a variety of origami animals in various states of ‘good’. “He seemed weeeiiird. I didn’t ask what it was, though, because he was ‘don’t talk to me’ weird, so I just watched him leave the hotel.”

Husk turned his head just a little from his spot lounging on the nearby couch, his eyes still on the book he was reading whenever Niffty wasn’t flicking tiny paper cranes at him for him to ‘babysit’. “He does that sometimes. I wouldn’t sweat it, and I definitely wouldn’t go looking for him. If he’s in a mood, you don’t want to find him, and he’ll come back whenever he feels like it.”

“Weird for him to be late to somethin’, tho,” Angel said with a frown, looking from Husk to Niffty. “No idea what was buggin’ him?”

“Noooo,” Niffty said, her eye going wide and her voice going intense. “But he had his scary eyes and scary smile on and his antlers were a little bigger than normal~” She closed her eye and bared her teeth, giggling.

“Are you sure someone shouldn’t go find him, Husk?” Vaggie asked, looking over her shoulder at the bartender.

“Positive.”

“Charlie, Charlie, come make origami with us,” Niffty said. “You can wait for Alastor and I’ll teach you!”

“Huh? Uh, okay, sure,” Charlie said, plopping down to turn their triangle into a circle.

Angel didn’t really listen to Niffty’s repeated instructions, focusing on folding his own piece of paper into a frog as his mind wandered to Alastor. What could have happened? And what did he leave to go do? Angel knew that there was zero reason for him to worry—Alastor was a powerful overlord, after all, and more than capable of handling himself—but he couldn’t help wondering where he was. And that was senseless. Alastor wasn’t his problem! He didn’t need to keep an eye on him or make sure he wasn’t getting into trouble or…

…fuck, I hope he isn’t getting into trouble.

It wasn’t long after Charlie joined them that the front door opened, and the princess turned to look. “Oh, Alastor, you— holy shit what happened?!”

Angel snapped his head up and saw Alastor striding into the hotel, spinning his microphone staff with his usual easy grace. And, since he was wearing all red, it took Angel a moment to register that he was absolutely covered in blood. “Oh, Charlie, my dear, it is absolutely nothing you need worry about!” the Radio Demon said brightly, his voice more heavily layered with static than usual. “I simply went for a little walk and happened to find some, shall we say, disagreeable folk?”

“Alastor, you can’t get into fights in the street!” Vaggie said as she got to her feet and gestured at him as menacingly as she could with a squat little origami cat in her hand. “It’s bad for our reputation!”

“Now, now, there is nothing to lose your head over,” Alastor said with a full side roll of his head and a loose gesture of his hand. “It was no one of particular note, and it wasn’t in the street!”

“I don’t see how that’s any—”

“It was in a shop.”

“There! See! That’s not better!” Vaggie said, gesticulating wildly with both hands.

“Alastor…” Niffty said slowly, turning her head enough to squint at the other demon.

“Hmm? Yes, Niffty, what is it?”

“Is that blood wet?” she continued, her voice dropping dangerously.

Alastor laughed and bent at the waist, patting her on the head. “It’s entirely dry, I promise you.”

“Oh! That’s okay, then,” Niffty grinned, her voice bright once more. “Did you have fun?”

“Oodles.”

“Charlie,” Vaggie said insistently, looking at her girlfriend and thrusting her hands out at Alastor.

Charlie looked conflicted as she cast her eyes between the two of them, then cast Alastor her most winning nervous smile. “W-well, it’s good to see you back, Alastor! But, um, I do think it would be helpful if we tried to keep random and wanton bloodshed to a minimum?”

“Of course!” Alastor straightened at an alarming speed, his spine cracking loudly. “Never fear, Miss Charlie, last night was a fluke, a mere blip, nothing but a little skip on the record, as it were! I have no doubt the circumstances shall never arise again.”

Angel blinked slowly. That… is a very weird statement. “You sure you’re okay, Smiles?”

“Ah…!” Alastor actually started, and he focused on Angel with slightly wide eyes, like he had only just noticed the spider’s presence. He recovered quickly—if that was what Angel should call it—and walked around Charlie to stand next to Angel instead. “Of course! Never better, tip top shape and all that what the hell are the four of you doing on the floor?”

“Origami,” Niffty said enthusiastically, holding out two handfuls of tiny paper stars.

Alastor actually crouched down beside Angel, one elbow on his knee and his other hand on his staff for balance. “Ah, yes, your paper folding art. Of course!”

“I made a frog,” Angel said, pointing to the little yellow paper amphibian on the floor in front of him. He pressed down on its back near its butt, and when his finger flicked along the edge of the fold, the little frog hopped a little.

Alastor let out a surprised laugh. “How delightful! I’m quite proud of you, sha. Couldn’t get Husker to participate, I see.”

“I’m in the same room,” Husk grumbled, lowering his book and glaring over at Alastor. But there was something odd in his glare, something heavier and more reserved than usual.

Alastor either didn’t notice or was refusing to acknowledge it. “Progress is progress, I suppose. Miss Charlie, I’m terribly sorry about missing our appointment. If you have time, we can meet as soon as I have freshened up, as it were.”

“Uh, sure, Alastor. That’s fine.”

Alastor looked at Angel, then hesitated, enough that Angel lowered his hands and turned his own head to look back at Alastor. “Yeah, Al? What’s up?”

“Oh, simply wondering if you would like to help me with dinner again tonight.”

Angel was vaguely aware that the entire room went still, but his focus was entirely caught by Alastor. “Uh, sure, sounds fun. Whaddya wanna make?”

“I was actually thinking that, perhaps, you might teach me a bit about making pasta.”

Angel smiled immediately. “You wanna learn? Sure, but I ain’t gonna go easy on you.”

Alastor’s smile widened. “I should think not.” He hesitated again, then he reached up, touching the side of Angel’s face. He felt the tiniest scrape of Alastor’s claw, as well as a small tickle, and then Alastor pulled his hand back to hold up a little sliver of colored paper that must have gotten stuck to his face while they were cutting the squares.

“Oh. Uh. Thanks,” Angel said, wondering why his face felt warm.

Alastor’s smile was different. Softer, almost. “I’ll see you this evening, then, sha.” He straightened up and began walking away towards his room, waving one hand and calling back. “Won’t be more than ten minutes, Miss Charlie!”

Angel turned his head and watched him go, then went back to his half done origami frog. He finished a couple of more folds before he realized just how quiet it was, and he raised his head to find everyone else staring at him.

“…what?”

•••

“There he is get the fuck down!”

Blitzø placed his hands on Moxxie and Millie’s heads, shoving them down behind one of the large bushes around the property of the Hazbin Hotel before he followed them into a crouch.

“Ow, fuck, sir…!”

“Blitzø!”

“Shh!”

It hadn’t taken long for someone of interest to show up, so this stakeout was a good fucking idea, if he said so himself. And, with Loona temporarily back at the office to try and look up some useful intel, that meant he didn’t have to worry about her safety (and had time to figure out how he was going to tell her that she absolutely was not doing espionage with them). Blitzø carefully peered through the leaves of the bush and heard Moxxie and Millie do the same; the sound of jaunty whistling grew louder, backed with what sounded like old timey radio music, and then they saw a man coming up the path. He was a little more than average height (for a sinner), with a tattered red coat, bright red and black hair, what looked like a staff with a microphone on the end, and one of the most unnerving smiles Blitzø had ever seen. Oh, and the blood.

That must be the Radio Demon.

“Holy shit, it’s him…!” Millie whispered excitedly.

“He doesn’t look so scary,” Moxxie grumbled crossly, and Blitzø didn’t need to look at him to know he was lying.

The Radio Demon—Alastor, Vox had called him—didn’t even appear to notice them as he made his way into the hotel. Once he heard the doors shut, Blitzø retreated from the bush and the other two followed suit. He turned, crouched, and wrapped his arms around their necks, pulling them in close to his sides. “Okay, so, first off, this place is a lot fucking bigger than I thought it would be.”

“Yeah, no kiddin’,” Millie said, entirely unbothered by Blitzø’s manhandling. “I figured it’d be… y’know… appropriately sized for its most likely number’a guests?”

“Tiny,” Blitzø said.

“Yeah.”

“Mills, I need to know. The fuck is your deal with him?”

“Oh, I love his program!” Millie said enthusiastically. “I don’t never miss it! Nobody knows more about torture than the Radio Demon!”

“Huh. Weird,” Blitzø said. “Hey, you know me, I don’t kink shame— okay, I do, but this one is really normal, considering.”

Moxxie sighed heavily, slumping into Blitzø’s hold with no small amount of resignation and resolutely ignoring the implications of the word ‘considering’. He was learning, apparently. “So how, exactly, are we supposed to do this? There’s no way we can break into that place and go unnoticed. It’s big, yeah, and it’s barely got anyone in it, but everyone who is there is a sinner… or Lucifer’s daughter. And in case you forgot, they slaughtered angels here during the last sinner extermination.”

“Then we’ll have to find the most efficient way to stake the place out,” Blitzø said. He looked at Millie. “I guess I can’t talk you into letting me make Moxxie just stay here 24/7 until something happens.”

“Hey!”

“Nope,” Millie said with a bright smile.

“Damn. Okay, then, different plan. We’ll set up electronic surveillance as unobtrusively as we can. Something that will alert us whenever anyone comes or goes from the building. We can park the van nearby and take turns keeping an eye on things, and then whoever’s on duty can alert the others and start shadowing them right away.”

“This is going to be so boring,” Moxxie groaned, hanging his head.

Blitzø smacked him on the back and gave him a grin that even felt crazed to Blitzø himself. “Cheer up! We have no choice! Stolas is still in the hospital and he’s got his grimoire right now so we are literally locked in Hell, which means we take what we can get!”

It won’t be long. He won’t be stuck in the hospital forever. He can’t be. Can he? Fuck. I have a headache.

Millie and Moxxie were looking at each other in a way Blitzø really didn’t like—suspicious and concerned, neither of which he needed right now—so he shook both of them violently enough to make them squeak. “Back to the office, then. We need to get our shit together and make sure Loonie hasn’t set the place on fire without us.”

“Blitzø…”

“Less talking more doing the thing I said, Millie!”

•••

Alastor was a fast learner. Angel had only had to give him verbal instructions—as well as a brief demonstration, when it came to making the pasta dough itself—and he was suddenly a regular pastaio. Lasagna seemed a good start, since it was a fairly simple dish and it was very easy to make enough for a group, and eventually though being alone in the kitchen with Alastor brought up memories of that night…

…it was fun.

He thought Alastor had fun, too.

And now, Alastor was acting normal enough and everybody else was acting weird. Ever since the end of their origami lesson, people had been just kinda looking at him, those significant types of looks that said they were probably saying stuff behind his back. Normally, Angel didn’t care; he was used to being the topic of gossip, and like he always said, if people were talking about him then at least they had a good topic. But this was different. He was afraid it was speculative.

Speculation usually came with ‘getting a talking-to’, and whether that meant Husk or Charlie, Angel wanted absolutely none of it.

That was the main reason he had retreated to his room immediately after cleaning up from dinner. It was the safest place to avoid whatever serious conversation was doubtless brewing downstairs, and it also meant they weren’t just giving him those fucking concerned glances that they thought he couldn’t see.

“I’m so fuckin’ bored,” Angel told his ceiling as he lay back on his bed, legs dangling over the edge. It was too early for him to be in his room, but he didn’t feel like going out and partying, and hanging out downstairs was out of the question. His third option was to go to Alastor’s room and bug him, but they had just spent the evening cooking together, and the Radio Demon had even helped him clean up. Sure, they were supposed to hang out and shit, but there was probably a point that was definitely too much for Alastor.

Not for the first time, Angel thought about going to Cannibal Town to talk to Rosie without Alastor there. He didn’t know how this was supposed to work, but his mark wasn’t changing at all. He wasn’t sure how to broach the subject with Alastor, so he wasn’t positive, but he was pretty sure it was the same on his side. How long was it supposed to take? Didn’t Rosie just say they needed to stop being stubborn? Wasn’t this enough initiative?

Angel raised his leg straight over his head and frowned at the mark on his knee. “What the fuck do you want me to do, huh?” It didn’t answer, and Angel groaned at himself, letting his leg fall again.

“My goodness, it is quite pink in here.”

“Holy fuck!!”

The sudden voice behind Angel startled him so badly that he rolled straight off of his bed, landing on the carpeted side of his room with an audible flump. Scrambling back up his comforter, Angel dragged himself up until he could fold his arms on his bed and stare at Alastor, who was just… standing there, looking around his room like he had been invited in.

“What. The fuck.”

“Hello!” Alastor said brightly, turning his head to focus on Angel. His eyes were glowing ever so slightly in the low bedroom light.

“Now who’s comin’ into places without permission?”

“Would you believe me if I said Fat Nuggets let me in?”

Angel looked over at Nugg’s little ottoman next to his bed, where the hellpig was perched and fixing Alastor with a cheerfully vacant stare. He, too, looked at Alastor. “No.”

“Worth a shot, I suppose!”

Angel got to his feet and straightened his clothes. “Dangerous to just enter my bedroom like that, Smiles. I’m a filthy degenerate, you ain’t got no idea what I might be doin’ at any given moment.”

Bizarrely, Alastor seemed… almost flustered, from what Angel was learning of his tells and moods. “I wanted to speak with you,” Alastor deflected, his voice a little louder than usual. “It didn’t seem terribly appropriate in the kitchen, and you vanished so quickly, you gave me little choice but to come find you.”

“…okay,” Angel said slowly. He looked around his room, which was very low on seating, and eventually pointed to the bench of his vanity. “Y’can sit there. Sorry, I ain’t got much in the way of places for other people to sit in here.”

“Quite alright. I imagine you didn’t design this room for entertaining.” Alastor flicked his wrist and the bench moved itself a little closer to the bed. Angel sat on top of his bedspread and folded his legs, watching the Radio Demon perch himself on the bench with his hands folded on his crossed knee.

A few months ago, Angel would have called his demeanor ‘prim’. Now that he had actually observed Alastor in all different states of relaxation, he could tell he was just feeling awkward.

“Okay, you got my attention,” Angel said, clasping two of his hands on his ankles and straightening his back. “What’s up, Doc?”

Alastor blinked at him. “…reference after my time?”

“Forties.”

“Yes. Well.” Alastor tapped his knee with his claws a couple of times. “…this will sound… unusual, I suppose, coming from me.” He paused, and Angel bit back a sarcastic remark about how everything had been unusual since this began. “I need to… come clean to you about something.”

Angel raised one eyebrow sharply. “…since when do you do that?”

Alastor laughed, just a little. “I don’t, that’s why it’s unusual.”

“…okay. So… what’d you do?”

“I…” Alastor hesitated. He thought. He didn’t make eye contact. “I followed you last night. When you went to work. I watched some of your filming session.”

“You—?” Angel frowned. “…no you didn’t, I would have seen…” He trailed off, memories of the earliest part of the evening returning to him. “…you broke that light. And that camera.”

“Not intentionally, I assure you,” Alastor said.

Angel didn’t know if he should be angry or not. His initial reaction was yes, he should be, because he didn’t need to be followed like a child, but… Alastor was being honest with him. The least he could do was hear him out. He drew a breath to calm himself, taking note of the way Alastor’s ears flicked backwards briefly. “Okay. You’re gonna tell me why you did that.”

Alastor actually nodded once, like he agreed it was a reasonable request. “At first, I wasn’t certain myself. After our conversation the other night—when you spoke about how you got into your work—I found myself contemplating what you said about the Vees promising to… handle… our issue, if you didn’t do so yourself. I suppose I was concerned what Valentino might do when you returned to work, and I wanted to ensure he didn’t overstep, shall we say.”

Angel blinked a couple of times, his eyes widening. “…you were worried about me?”

“Valentino is untrustworthy.” Alastor still wasn’t meeting his eyes. “And when I saw that Vox had taken his place for the evening, it seemed even more unwise to leave you alone. I had no intention of intruding on your privacy or your work.”

Angel shook his head. “…Vox would blow a literal fuse if he had any idea you were in his studio and he didn’t notice.”

Alastor barked out a sharp laugh at that. “Oh, I was so very tempted to give him a bit of the old runaround. Perhaps make him believe he was losing his mind!”

The image of Alastor using his shadow to gaslight Vox caused Angel to make a sound somewhere between a giggle and a snort, which made Alastor laugh again. “He woulda been fuckin’ furious.”

“Good!” Alastor said, his cheer returning. “It’s what he gets for being Vox.”

Angel smiled at him. “So… you were lookin’ out for me, huh? My very own guardian Radio Demon.”

Alastor actually cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. As the hotelier, looking after things is one of my myriad responsibilities, and you are our premier resident. I would be quite remiss to allow anything to happen to you.”

It would have been so very easy to keep up that same line of conversation, just to see how awkward and uncomfortable (embarrassed?) he could make Alastor. And he would have… months ago, anyway. Instead, he decided to let him off the hook. “Well, I’m honored to hear you suffered for my sake. Can’t imagine how boring watching a porno gettin’ filmed musta been.”

Alastor, for some reason, looked distinctly uncomfortable again. “I was actually rather enthused for the opportunity to see you at your craft. You’re quite the actor, sha, even when your scripts…”

“Suck?” Angel provided. He knew. And he never should have yelled at Husk over it, because he’d always known.

“Oh, most of them are awful,” Alastor said, limply flicking his wrist and rolling his eyes. “No fault of yours or your coworkers, of course. And as much as I would hate to compliment Vox, it seems he at least knows more about writing a script than Valentino does. Good to know we’ve finally found another use for him.”

Angel giggled. “Look, I’ll be the first to admit that the Vees, for all their many faults, are creative. It’s just that Val ain’t got none with words unless he’s threatenin’ someone.”

“You don’t say,” Alastor said, his expression as dry as his tone.

“…what other use?”

“Hm?”

“You said another use for Vox,” Angel said. “What’s the other use?”

Alastor shrugged. “Paperweight? Doorstop? Whatever that cube he calls a head could be used for.” When Angel laughed, Alastor seemed to fully relax. “But, truly, I appreciated the opportunity to watch you work. You even cut your hand open. Authenticity?”

“Oh… yeah, I guess,” Angel said as he raised his bandaged hand and glanced at it. “Mostly it just looks better than the little blood packs, and I heal quick.”

“Commitment that VoxTek does not deserve,” Alastor said, shaking his head. “Well, with that in mind, I thought it would be only fair to return the favor.”

Angel tilted his head. “…whaddya mean?”

Alastor didn’t answer. Instead, he got to his feet and went to stand in front of Angel, offering his hand out. “Come with me.” It was phrased like an order, but the way Alastor said it… it was a request.

“Um…” Angel reached up, placing his hand in the Radio Demon’s. “Okay.”

Angel stood, but that was as far as he got before they were wrapped in darkness. It was much easier than it had been the first time, and while it was no less terrifying, Angel didn’t collapse or feel like he was going to throw up when all of his senses returned. He did stagger, however, and it took him a moment to register that Alastor’s hands were now on his arm and his back.

“Are you alright, sha?”

“Y…yeah. I’m good,” Angel said, slowly opening his eyes and looking around.

They were standing in the middle of a room that Angel didn’t recognize, not at first. There were no lights on, all of the illumination coming from a wide bank of windows that looked out over the city and casting everything in shades of red and blue and purple. The floor was made of wood, the ceiling a fair distance above them and the walls curved upwards, forming a partial dome with a flat top around them. And beneath the windows, a wooden table covered in papers, a mug, and…

…radio equipment.

He was in Alastor’s radio tower.

“Whoa…” Angel breathed, his eyes widening as he looked around. “Holy shit, this is high…!”

“Isn’t it? Quite the view, I must say,” Alastor said fondly as he took a few steps in. “And very inspiring when I’m doing my programs. Feel free to look around, I have no doubt the equipment will be quite safe around you.”

That was all the encouragement Angel needed. He began walking around the room, taking in all the photographs of jazz musicians and singers from the 1910s up through the early 30s, records no longer viable for playing on one of Alastor’s record players (“Oh, sorry, gramophone, my bad.” “Phonograph, my dear, Gramophone is a trademark no matter what the British claim.”) hanging on the walls, and the neat little stacks of truly ancient broadcasting equipment that was so well-cared for that they looked as though they had been manufactured less than a month ago.

“It’s beautiful up here,” Angel said after a long stretch of quiet. He felt Alastor watching him, but he didn’t return the look, instead looking out over the city. “…I’ve started listenin’ to your radio program whenever you’re on and I’m not workin’.”

“Have you?” Angel nodded, and he could hear Alastor shift behind him. He wasn’t sure what he expected the Radio Demon to ask, but it certainly wasn’t, “…do you enjoy it?”

A rare display of uncertainty from the always comically self-confident sinner actually made Angel’s smile return in full. He turned and rested against the solid wooden table, bracing two hands either side of his hips and crossing his ankles. “I do. I especially like it when you read from those creepy horror books. You got a good storytellin’ voice.”

Alastor almost looked surprised. “…well. Thank you, sha.”

Angel nodded, looking around again without standing up. “…hey, Al. Why’d you get into radio?”

“Hm? Oh…” Alastor drew a thoughtful breath. “I imagine it really started when I was quite young. As a child, at age… six, I suppose, I had a job at a drug store, sweeping the front walk every morning and every afternoon. The druggist had a phonograph that he kept on his counter, and I was fascinated by the music he would play. I am certain I drove my maman up the pole, talking her ear off about it every time he had something new he was playing. I still don’t know how she did it, but for my eighth birthday, she managed to procure a phonograph for me. It was worse than second-hand, with a dent in the horn and a bend in the tone-arm that made the sounds less than perfect, but I adored that phonograph. Listened to it until she threatened to beat me with it.

“Then, when I was… twenty, I believe, I found out about the creation of the first commercial radio station that was coming out of Pittsburgh. The technology fascinated me, and I became obsessed with the idea of creating a profession out of it. I was more than determined, I was driven.” Alastor shrugged, looking out the window. “It was one of many things that I set my mind on, and with each one, I never rested until I had accomplished my goal.”

Angel smiled, tilting his head as he watched Alastor. “And you say you’re not stubborn.”

“Hah. Be silent,” Alastor said without heat. He looked at Angel. “…I was wondering something, sha.”

“What’s that?”

“If you would ever like to… perform for me. On my radio program.”

Angel’s eyes widened so much he thought they might actually fall out of his face. “Y…you want me to…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, it sounded too impossible.

Alastor’s smile was oddly gentle, for all its angles and sharp teeth. “You have a lovely singing voice. I think my listeners would quite enjoy hearing you.”

Angel smiled, but it felt odd. Nervous. “…you don’t let nobody else on your program.”

“I am well aware, as it is my program and I am involved in every broadcast.”

“No— I mean, yeah, I know, I just…” Angel bit his lip as his smile widened, and he found himself looking down and away. “…I’d love to, Al. If you really want me to.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise.” Alastor began to walk closer. “But… what is this? Have I managed to embarrass the unshakeable Angel Dust?”

Angel giggled, ducking his head further. “What no I don’t get embarrassed fuck you.”

“I don’t know. I believe I see more pink under that fine white fur of yours.”

Angel turned his head towards Alastor— then, he froze when he realized the other sinner was standing right in front of him. “…you cheat,” he said.

“I don’t see how,” Alastor said, his voice soft.

“I’m real pale. You got an unfair advantage.” Angel had absolutely no idea why, but he suddenly felt… he didn’t know how he felt. “…what’re you doin’, Smiles?”

Alastor hesitated before he answered. Angel could see that his smile was different at the corners. Unstable, almost, like the usually sharp and straight lines were somehow… distorted in a way that was kind of cute. “Would you believe me if I told you that I have no idea?”

“Uh… y…yeah. I would.”

They looked at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity, but really couldn’t have been more than ten seconds. Finally, Alastor spoke again. “You know that I have many curiosities.” Angel nodded. “And you know that I dislike not knowing anything about that which intrigues me.”

“Where are you goin’ with this…?”

“Humor me. …please,” Alastor said, his voice softening as he made that request. Angel bit his lip again and nodded, and he noted the way Alastor’s eyes flicked down towards his mouth and then back up. “…I need to know something,” he said. “I don’t know what it… how I will react,” he amended. “But I need to know. If I promise that, no matter what, I will not harm you… will you permit me to find out?”

Angel didn’t know what to make of that. It was a completely pointless question, because without knowing what Alastor was talking about, he didn’t know how he could say either yes or no honestly. But Alastor seemed so focused, and asking… even Angel could feel how difficult it was for him. “…okay, Alastor.”

The Radio Demon nodded once, so slight it must have been to himself and probably not even an intentional movement. Angel saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and he glanced over to see Alastor still his hand close to his cheek. Angel looked to Alastor’s face again, and when he saw Angel wasn’t resisting, he gently cupped his cheek and jaw with a hand both soft and rough, cold and sharp and scarred. Angel’s breath shuddered, and he saw a flicker of confusion across Alastor’s face.

“You’ve never been afraid of me,” Alastor whispered.

“No,” Angel answered, matching his tone.

“Are you afraid of me right now?”

Angel swallowed. “…no.”

“You should be.”

“I know.”

Alastor opened his mouth like he was going to speak again, but no words came out. Instead, he closed his eyes, almost like he was in some kind of pain, before he closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together.

No matter how much Alastor had telegraphed his actions, Angel couldn’t have anticipated this, because never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that Alastor would actually kiss him, of his own volition, as his own idea. It was clumsy and shy and completely inexperienced, simply the press of closed lips against his own, something he hadn’t felt since he was twelve years old, but it was…

Perfect.

Somehow, it was perfect.

Angel made no move to deepen the contact, no matter how much his body was suddenly screaming at him to do just that. He raised one hand to gently cup the back of Alastor’s hand, holding it to his face, and closed his eyes to lean into the astonishing and alien feeling. Alastor’s lips were scarred, and they were chapped from the abuse of his teeth and constant smiling and whatever happened to him when his larger demon form took over. When Angel relaxed, stroking the back of Alastor’s hand, he heard the other sinner make a small sound somewhere in the back of his throat that was reminiscent of a whimper.

“He hates being touched.”

But everybody needs at least a little contact, Al. Don’t they?

How long has it been since anyone even hugged you?

Calling the kiss ‘chaste’ would have done it a disservice, but Angel still felt out of breath when they parted. He opened his eyes and heard Alastor’s own breathing coming heavy and a little fast; when Alastor’s eyes opened, his irises flickered into radio dials for a second, then back, then they returned again.

“Shh, Alastor,” Angel whispered, stroking the back of Alastor’s hand as it rested against his face. “It’s okay, Smiles. Just keep breathin’. It’s okay.”

The flickering died down after a few seconds, and Alastor’s eyes fell shut once more, his forehead pressing against Angel’s. They stayed like that, even after Alastor’s breathing had calmed down, Angel stroking his hand and Alastor just resting against him as much as he would allow himself.

“…I’ve never done that before,” Alastor whispered, a quiet and slightly panicked laugh escaping him the next second. “I never wanted to.”

“No?” Angel asked. Alastor shook his head in tiny, jerking movements, like he was unwilling to back away just yet. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” Alastor answered immediately. “No,” he said the next moment. “I… I don’t know.” He made a frustrated noise, his fingers twitching. “I don’t understand this. I don’t understand you.”

Angel didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything.

Another stretch of silence passed. “It’s the mark. It has to be,” Alastor whispered, but despite the confidence of his phrasing, he sounded uncertain and almost frightened. “Nothing else… nothing else makes sense.”

“I don’t know,” Angel murmured honestly. “This kinda thing… it’s new for me, too, Al.”

“Is it?” Alastor chuckled weakly, more of an exhale than anything else. “I suppose it’s too odd to be normal for anyone.”

“That’s true.”

Alastor wasn’t moving his hand, so Angel didn’t let go of him. The quiet felt comfortable, in a way, as the nervousness slowly bled from the Radio Demon and his thumb moved enough to stroke along the curve of Angel’s cheek bone.

“…what do you want, Alastor?” Angel whispered. “Right now.”

“I want…” Alastor hesitated. “…just… stay with me, sha.”

Angel smiled and pressed his forehead against Alastor’s just a little more firmly.

“Okay, Al. I’ll stay.”

•••

#my writing #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #radiodust #alastor x angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin niffty #hazbin husk #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #hazbin velvette #helluva blitzo #helluva moxxie #helluva millie #helluva loona

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zaebeecee · 5 months ago

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To Sever a Loveless Bond

•• RadioDust Soulmate AU ••

Part 16/?

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Read on AO3

•••

CW: Alastor rage, hallucinations, physical abuse of a defenseless and unconscious person, I.M.P.-typical violence

•••

What have I done?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know, because he wasn’t sure why he did it. He didn’t know, because he never asked himself that question. He didn’t know, because he had never behaved so… irrationally.

As Alastor erratically paced his bedroom, he felt the corners of his mouth pulling back, back towards his temples, exposing more and more teeth that ached to tear into something, anything, that would distract him from the absolute nonsense raging through his mind. Nonsense… and words that he didn’t want to recall, especially not now, of all times.

“You gotta remember, Alastor. Actions got consequences. You wanna act like a fool so bad, God’ll treat you like one.”

His mother hadn’t even believed in God, but she always made those words sound like a promise. Even now, Alastor heard her as clearly as if she was standing in the room with him, watching him pace, her expression closed off and stern and disapproving in that way that said she was worried about him. He could even swear he heard words she had never said to him, words that cut him sharper and more deeply than any of his blades had ever cut his prey.

“That boy ain’t done nothin’ to you except be one of the only kindnesses you ever found, and this is how you act.”

“He’s weak,” Alastor hissed into his empty room, because he knew it was empty, he knew he was alone, and yet his ears even pivoted as though she were standing beside his fireplace and laughing at his frustration.

“You’re already a killer, Alastor, don’t make yourself a liar, too.”

Alastor’s guttural inhale was a snarl that tore through his throat and chest, but there was no one to be cowed by the display. Even if there had been, his mother would not have been frightened. She had never feared him, not once in the fifteen years they were given together, and it frustrated him just as much as it increased his love for her.

“He’s showin’ more strength in a day with those monsters than you’ve shown in two lifetimes. You wanna pretend you’re so big, but you’re so scared you can’t even ask that boy to stay.”

“Stop,” Alastor hissed, reaching up to grab his head, his ears flattening and his fingers knotting into his hair. “I can’t, I can’t, he won’t!”

He heard his mother’s laugh, a soft and rare sound in her lifetime, and it echoed off the walls like water.

“So, instead, you bend to Vox.”

“NO!!!”

Alastor bent forward as the crack of his desk hitting the wall filled the air, thrown by one arm of his shadowy tentacles, its contents erupting from the drawers and scattering all over the room. He stared at a few pens and his seal as they rolled across the floor, but he didn’t see them, not really. His chest heaved, his lungs burning with each shuddering inhale as he mentally grappled with every urge in his body that begged to tear the hotel down around his ears.

If the hotel was gone, maybe then… Maybe then he would be able to forget.

Alastor straightened slowly, looking at the wreckage of his desk and everything scattered around it, and wondered… when had it come to this? He didn’t fix anything, instead walking over to his chair and sinking into it. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands.

I have to break the bond.

I don’t…

Alastor’s hands shook as he stared at the floor, his lips still stretched into a panicked smile.

I don’t want to.

I don’t want him to leave.

I don’t want him to go back to that… to that place.

I’m not afraid.

Am I?

It wasn’t unusual for Alastor to spend hours at a time unmoving, but losing track of that time was, and so he was surprised when he heard a tiny knock on his door and every bone he moved cracked sharply as he straightened up.

“Ow,” he said in lieu of any greeting, moving his hand to the back of his neck.

“Alastor?” Niffty. “Are you still in there? Can I come in?”

Alastor sighed. “…there’s a mess, dear one,” he warned.

“I heard the crash earlier. Can I come in?” Niffty repeated, intonation unchanged.

“…alright.”

Alastor waved one hand and unlocked the door, swinging it open gently. Niffty stepped through, looking around, and Alastor used another push of magic to close the door behind her. “…you broke your desk,” she observed.

“That I did, my dear,” Alastor said. “Never fear. I shall repair it and set everything in order.”

It likely took effort for the small sinner, but Niffty pulled her eye from the mess on the floor to look at him. “Are you still angry?”

Alastor tilted his head at her. “…I’m not sure,” he said, holding his hand out. Immediately, she came over, placing her little hand in his, and he pulled her up to sit on the arm of his chair. “How long ago did you hear the noise?”

“About four hours,” Niffty said. “You scared Charlie. Nobody knew you had come home.”

“I am guilty of not using the door this time,” Alastor admitted.

Niffty frowned at him. “…why?”

“Why did I not use the door?”

“Why are you angry?”

Alastor settled back into his chair. “Oh, nothing you need concern yourself with. Simply frustrated with myself.”

“Oh,” Niffty said, nodding sagely, as though she had just discovered the answer to existence itself. “It’s about Angel. I thought so.”

Alastor squinted at her. “…what.”

“You were going to break your bond, weren’t you?” Niffty asked, tilting her head. “But you didn’t, did you? And now you’re mad at yourself.”

“…have you been eavesdropping?”

Niffty didn’t look anything close to abashed. “No, you’re just kinda transparent.”

Alastor’s ears flattened. “I am no such thing.” He then sighed, leaning his elbow on the chair’s other arm and pressing his fist into his cheek. “But… it would appear I can hide nothing from you.”

Niffty frowned. “What did you do?”

“Angel and I did indeed intend to break our bond today,” Alastor said. “And when the moment came, I… well. I simply left, I suppose.”

She blinked once. “Oh. …why?”

“Honestly, my dear, I have no idea.”

“Mmm.” Niffty nodded to herself, like she had just made sense of something. “Right. I understand.”

Alastor didn’t want to know. “Has Angel come back yet?”

“No,” Niffty said, the worry returning to her expression. “I hoped you would know where he is, but nobody’s seen him since he left with you.”

Alastor muttered a curse, looking away. Had Angel stayed with Rosie? Was he angry?

What am I thinking, of course he’s angry. Why wouldn’t he be? This is the second time I’ve done this to him, and unlike before, I have no excuse. I never assumed I would need one.

“…Niffty.”

“Uh?” Niffty sat up a little straighter.

“I require your assistance with something. It’s something I have never done before, so I will be relying quite heavily on your guidance.”

She gasped. “At your service!” she said, clenching her fists.

Alastor hesitated, then turned his head again to fully look at her. “I need to… arrange a proper apology to Angel.” He could have sworn he saw Niffty’s eye grow brighter in that moment, but he continued, “As you’re aware, I have never apologized for anything, either formally or casually. I don’t know the protocol.”

Niffty clenched her fists tighter. “I will help you plan the best apology Hell has ever seen.”

Alastor smiled at her. “Good. In that case, I want—?” A sharper knock caught his ear, and he looked at the door, raising an eyebrow. “I’m popular today. Yes?” he called.

“Alastor,” Vaggie called through the door. “I need to ask you something.”

Alastor sighed and, once again, unlocked the door from a distance. “Very well. Come in, if you must.”

Vaggie let herself into the room, and she looked… wary, he supposed was the word, and quite possibly angry. She didn’t look at Niffty, her gaze fixed on Alastor himself as she stopped in front of him.

“My, my,” Alastor said, folding his hands on his knee. “You don’t appear happy with me, Miss Vaggie. How very unusual.”

She was even less in the mood for sarcasm than usual, judging by her lack of reaction. “Did you attack Angel?” she asked, with no prelude.

Alastor froze, staring at her. “No,” he said, feeling something unpleasant twisting deep in his gut. “Why?”

“Yeah. I didn’t think so,” she said, but she didn’t look relieved.

Alastor’s lip curled. “Vaggie,” he said slowly, attempting to keep his calm. “Why are you asking me this?”

“The Vees have issued an article saying that you did.”

•••

Four hours earlier

•••

Target acquired. That step was down.

Target drugged. That step was also down.

Now… the transport.

Blitzø heard three voices protest as he turned a corner, mounted a curb, and hit a sinner. As someone outside yelled at him, he leaned out the window and shouted, “If he didn’t wanna get hit, he shouldn’t have been on the sidewalk!!”

“Blitzø!” Millie yelled from the back of the van. “What are you doing?!”

“Driving with an admirable level of reckless abandon. I want to get the sinner out of our custody as soon as possible,” Blitzø called over his shoulder, keeping his eyes (mostly) on the road. “The longer we’ve got him, the longer it’ll take for us to get home.”

“I can’t believe we kidnapped him,” Moxxie groaned. “What do we do if the Radio Demon finds out??”

“How in Hell could he possibly know?” Loona asked, but she didn’t sound at all confident, especially not with that tiny squeak in her voice.

“He can travel through shadows! He can hear through them! Of course he could find out!”

“Sweetie, ya gotta take a couple breaths, yer gonna have a coronary,” Millie said. “We’re takin’ him straight t’VoxTek. We ain’t gonna get found with him, okay?”

“I’m fucking done with this job,” Blitzø said; he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, but he wasn’t taking to them and they knew that, so nobody answered him. “We get him in. We get paid. We get confirmation of our contract being canceled. And we’re never doing shit for the Vees or any other overlord again.”

“Thank fuck,” Loona groaned.

Blitzø drove their van up to the loading dock at the back of VoxTek; when some sinner ran up to demand what they were doing and made the mistake of approaching the driver side door, Blitzø kicked it open, slamming the metal into her head and knocking her out cold.

He left her lying there and went around to the back doors as Loona pushed them open. Inside, Moxxie and Millie were rolling Angel Dust up in a large blanket that was barely long enough to disguise him, but it didn’t really matter if it looked like a body as long as it didn’t look like Angel Dust. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if a bunch of Hellborn were identified carrying a celebrity sinner around VoxTek.

“Loona, can you carry him?”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “He’s long but he’s light.”

“Sir,” Moxxie said, grabbing Blitzø by the sleeve before he could turn away. “Seriously, why the fuck are we doing this? We’re assassins, not paparazzi and definitely not kidnappers! Valentino looked like he wanted to torture this guy, and deserving torture is one thing, but... Can’t we get out of the contract some other way?”

“You should know it doesn’t work like that,” Blitzø said. “Just… look, just try not to think about it. Okay?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Now let’s go.”

•

“They’re here.”

Valentino looked up as Vox got to his feet, straightening his blazer and fixing his cuffs. Valentino himself remained sitting on the couch, as far removed from Velvette as he could make himself while she tapped away on her phone and pretended he wasn’t there.

“Velvette,” Vox said, his eyes on the door. “How’s the piece coming?”

“About done,” Velvette said. “We’ll just need one more photo and it’ll be ready to run.”

“Excellent.”

The door of the Vees’ private lounge opened, and I.M.P. entered the room, still looking for all the world like they believed filth such as them actually belonged in a place like this. The hellhound girl was carrying someone in a blanket, and if it wasn’t Angel Dust, he was going to rip all of their heads off. The only one whose name Valentino had bothered to memorize, Blitzø, ignored everyone except Vox, stopping in front of him. “Where do you want him?”

Vox nodded towards a different couch, and the hellhound carried her burden to it, laying them down and unwrapping them from the blanket. One of the other imps removed the bag, and Valentino watched as they backed away from Angel. He was unconscious, bound with his hands behind his back, and it looked like he wasn’t going to be moving any time soon.

That fucking mark was still on his knee, however, and now it was a strange grayish-beige color.

It looks like the Radio Demon’s skin.

“Val,” Vox warned, like he could just sense Valentino was about to go to him. Vox kept his eyes on Blitzø, even as he reached into his coat and pulled out his phone. “Thank you for fulfilling the terms of your contract so quickly. I’m releasing the agreed-upon funds to your business account now.”

Blitzø’s phone chimed, and he briefly glanced at it. “Great,” he said. “So we’re done here?”

“We are.” Vox pulled the physical contract from inside his jacket and passed it to Blitzø; the moment the imp touched it, there was a flash of electric blue, the surest sign of the agreement’s completion and the transfer of its ownership. “Thank you for your cooperation, I.M.P.”

“Right.” Blitzø didn’t take his eyes off Vox as he raised his other hand and snapped, getting the attention of his employees. He then waved that hand in a small circle over his head, backing away a few steps, only breaking eye contact with the television overlord when he turned and left the room with his people in tow.

Valentino got to his feet the moment they were gone. “Fucking finally.”

“Not yet, Val,” Vox said, looking down at his phone still. “We need to finish the piece and release our statement. You can have him after that.”

“I can fuck him up,” Valentino snarled.

“You’re in a mood. You’d get carried away, and we at least require him to be recognizable.” Via the screen that was Vox’s face, Valentino could see that he had just connected a call to building security as the contact flashed before Vox’s actual face returned. “There are four Hellborn heading out of the building,” he said. “Three imps and a hellhound. Shadow them. Once they’re outside, kill them.”

As he hung up, Velvette began adjusting her camera. “It’s a shame. They were more efficient than our own gossip department.”

“They’d never take another contract with us. It’s not a loss.” Vox looked at Valentino until the moth overlord slowly sat down again. Vox then crossed to Angel, standing over him for a moment. He reached down and pulled him up into a sitting position, leaned against the back of the couch. “Now… if I were Alastor…” he murmured to himself.

Vox tilted his head, clearly thinking, before he flexed his hand and clawed Angel across the face. The spider whimpered, but the effects of the drug were too strong and he remained unconscious, even as the three gashes that ran from the middle of his left cheek to his right eyebrow began oozing blood. Vox smirked, backhanding the other side of Angel’s face and sending him off the couch and to the ground. Valentino sighed, folding his arms and sinking into the couch. “You weren’t worried about me getting carried away, Voxxy. You just wanted to do it yourself.”

Velvette got to her feet. “He already has other bruises and marks,” she observed, exasperated. “Come on, I want to get this fucking story out, it’s going to drive all of our engagement today.”

“Just one more thing,” Vox said, his voice a sadistic purr that Valentino didn’t often hear these days. “You can pose whatever picture you want as soon as I rip out one of his organs.”

•

Moxxie nearly stumbled as he descended the stone steps that led from the service door of VoxTek down to the parking lot, where the sinner Blitzø had knocked out was still lying unattended by her coworkers.

“Okay, sir, we’re done, right? The contract is over?” Moxxie asked, as Millie hurried over to the sinner and hooked her hands under the woman’s arms to drag her back and out of the way of possible traffic.

“We’re done,” Blitzø said, reaching into his coat and pulling out his gun. He checked that it was loaded. “Contract’s over, and like I said, no more overlords.”

“We aren’t just going to leave it like this, are we?” Moxxie insisted. “We should— we could infiltrate the—”

“Moxx. Get your gun.”

Moxxie blinked. “What?”

“We just got a lot of money from a group of megalomaniacal sinners and left with sensitive and proprietary information that they don’t want getting out, and we’re no longer under contract. And if you want to live long enough to do something about this, you need to get your gun.”

“Fuck,” Moxxie hissed. “Right.”

“Loona, Millie, you two good?” Blitzø asked casually.

“Yup,” Millie said, resting the sinner against the wall of the building and picking up a stray cinderblock. Loona didn’t answer, she just nodded as she cracked her knuckles.

“Great. Deal with them quickly and efficiently, but we need to get to the van and get the fuck out. I have some shit I gotta take care of.”

Behind them, the service door clicked and swung open.

Blitzø smiled. “Let’s fuck some sinners up.” He then turned, shooting a security guard in the face before the guy even got a sound out, as Moxxie took the cue to run over to a nearby storage building and scale the drain pipe up to the roof.

Immediately, they were set upon by an entire crowd of sinners, practically crawling out of the woodwork to jump onto them. Millie broke her cinderblock within four skull strikes to the first sinner that got too close to her, and Loona grabbed one by the throat, using him to bludgeon another.

Moxxie watched all of this from his higher vantage point, readying his own gun. It wasn’t a sniper rifle, but he could make do. He readied himself, took a breath, and shot a sinner in the back of the neck.

This was going to take a while.

•••

“Alastor, wait!”

Absolutely not.

Vaggie and Niffty were both running after him, but Alastor wasn’t in the mood to wait. He turned the corner and vanished into shadows, barely hearing Vaggie call out for him again before he could hear nothing except the emptiness of his shadows and the ghosts screaming within them.

When he re-emerged in the lobby, sounds returned quickly, one of which was Charlie’s voice. “—without finding out first, because if this is— Alastor!” When she noticed his approach, Charlie turned away from Husk and took a few steps backwards. With the speed at which he was advancing, it took mere seconds for him to enter her physical space. He wasn’t sure what he looked like, but she seemed very, very nervous. “Alastor, okay, I know you’re mad but please, calm down,” Charlie said, pressing her phone to her chest and holding up a placating hand to him.

“I am perfectly calm, my dear,” Alastor answered in a voice so layered by radio filter that he barely recognized it himself. “Were I not perfectly calm, this hotel would be razed and you would be watching me tear VoxTek down from a great distance. I simply wish to know what. Happened.”

“Show him, Charlie,” Husk said, his voice guarded the way it always was when he felt afraid. “He’s gonna see it anyway.”

Charlie glanced Husk’s way, then looked back at Alastor. “Okay, I’m going to show you, but you have to stay as calm as possible. Please, Alastor.”

He didn’t answer, and she seemed to know he wasn’t going to. Slowly, Charlie turned her phone around, showing him an article that had been put on VoxNet’s primary gossip site by Velvette herself a little over an hour previously. There were three photographs, the first two of himself and Angel Dust: the first was from their night at the jazz club, Alastor lighting a clove cigarette for him; the second, from their dinner just a few days prior, sitting at their corner table, his and Angel’s hands lying atop each other in full view of the camera.

The third picture was just Angel.

He was still clothed the way he had been when they had gone to Rosie’s that morning, but if Alastor hadn’t recognized the cut of them, he never would have guessed they was the same from all of the blood soaking into the fabric. He was lying on a bloody concrete floor, hands bound behind his back, unconscious. Three vicious gashes had been torn across his face, and there was bruising on his cheek and arms that absolutely had not been there when Alastor had last seen him. The majority of the blood, however, looked as though it had come from an atrocious hole in Angel’s side. If Alastor was forced to guess, he would say Angel’s liver had been ripped from him, quite literally.

Beneath the images were the words “RADIO DEMON’S SECRET TRYST WITH PORN STAR BLOODIED BY BASE DESIRE”. The article was almost entirely without substance, rumor-mongering with a few eye-witness statements, but it wasn’t the rumors.

It was the fact that they were painting him as nothing more or less than any other overlord: a man driven by the desire for power and sex, manipulating a sinner in a contract with another overlord under false pretenses and mutilating him when it suited him.

It was the fact that they avoided using Angel’s name for the majority of the report, instead referring to him as a porn star, a prostitute, and “Valentino’s boy”.

It was the fact that they accused Alastor of attacking Angel over a refused sexual advance, leaving him in the streets to be rescued by a small group of Hellborn who discovered him and graciously brought him back to VoxTek.

We reached out to Vox, CEO of VoxTek and Angel Dust’s employer, for his response. Upon hearing details of the incident, Vox stated, “I’m deeply saddened by Angel Dust’s misfortune, but I can’t say I’m surprised to hear the Radio Demon savaged him. We all remember what it was like seven years ago. Honestly, I’m only disappointed to hear that Alastor’s pretension and claims of being above the sins of lust and envy were so hollow. I can’t help wondering what else about him is nothing but a sham.”

Angel Dust is in the care of VoxTek’s medical team, with updates to follow as they come in. Valentino could not be reached for commentary, as he was fully occupied with his star employee’s physical state.

Thus far, the Radio Demon has, of course, declined to comment.

Charlie was watching him with open apprehension, and Husk hadn’t moved. At some point, Vaggie and Niffty had entered the room, but both of them were refraining from approaching him, which was wise.

Alastor hadn’t wanted to kill so badly since his mother was taken from him.

“Well,” Alastor said, as Charlie lowered her phone. “Isn’t that interesting? Vox thinks he can play me so easily! This is about to be quite unfortunate for him.”

He turned on his heel, ignoring Charlie and Vaggie’s protests, but he only got three steps away when a single sentence brought him to a dead halt.

“You can’t go over there.”

Slowly, Alastor lowered his head, then turned it just enough to look at Husk with one single eye peering over his shoulder. “What did you just say to me, Husker?”

Husk’s ears were flat, but he came around the bar, standing even firmer than he had when he had last challenged Alastor, back when Mimzy had shown up so suddenly. He didn’t drop his gaze. “You can’t go to VoxTek,” he repeated, clenching his fists. “All you’re going to do is give Vox exactly what he wants. You think he gives two shits about Angel? He’s doing this to piss you off, and it’s working.”

Alastor turned, slowly advancing on Husk. “I’m not afraid of Vox,” he hissed.

“I know! That’s the problem!” Husk said, bordering on shouting. “You haven’t taken Vox seriously once since you two fell out, but the last time you butted heads, you didn’t exactly walk away unscathed! And now, you’re going to… what? Fight three of them at once? The only overlords in Hell with a unity contract? The overlords who have grown their domains exponentially faster than any other overlord has ever managed? And you’re going to go onto their turf to do it?”

Alastor didn’t move, simply staring Husk down, but he wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t he moving? “Husk,” Niffty whispered.

“No, Niff,” Husk said, not breaking eye contact. “Alastor, you don’t know shit about caring for someone. You’ve never protected another soul in your entire existence, and you sure as fuck haven’t ever rescued anyone. You go in there pissed off and looking for blood, the most likely person you’re gonna get killed is Angel.”

The tentacle shot from his shadow and seized Husk by the throat before Alastor was fully aware it was moving. Three voices shouted at him, but Husk was yanked off his feet and flung into the nearby wall with a heavy thud and a painful fall to the floor.

“Alastor, stop!” Niffty begged, even as she ran to where Husk was trying to pick himself up. Alastor straightened, placing his hands on the top of his staff, as Husk slowly raised his eyes and actually glared at him.

Before either could say or do anything else, Charlie moved in front of Alastor, standing between him and Husk with her arms outstretched. “This isn’t helping,” she said, her voice less desperate and more firm. “I understand that you’re angry, Alastor, but we’re all worried about him!”

“I’m going to kill them,” Alastor said, surprised at how calm his voice sounded. “I am going to tear their souls apart.”

“Fine,” Charlie said. “But Husk has a point! Just let us help, Alastor, we care about him too and we—!”

Alastor’s ear twitched as he caught the same sound that had made Charlie cut herself off. Outside the front doors, he heard the approach of a vehicle with a loud engine, followed by the deafening screech of sliding rubber tires and a rather loud, metallic crash accompanied by a repetitive thud like someone hitting a thin metal wall. He heard the creak of metal hinges, followed by voices shouting at each other and more than one gunshot.

“What now?” Vaggie shouted, yanking her spear out of the ether and preparing to run for the door. Alastor turned, grinning, ready for the opportunity to rip someone to pieces and at least blow off some steam; he would have to if he was going to keep being antagonized by conversation.

Before Vaggie was even halfway to the door, it burst open, and several people tumbled in. It… wasn’t precisely what Alastor had been expecting; he had assumed assailants that may have been Vox’s lackeys, but while it was a sinner in a VoxTek security uniform, it was also two imps.

One of the aforementioned imps was being held by the throat as the sinner rolled to a graceless stop, and he immediately started struggling again, unable to articulate anything except gagging noises. The other imp had what seemed to be an entire street sign in both hands, pole and all, everything at least a little bent. She immediately leaped onto the sinner’s back, wrapped her legs around his torso and her tail around his neck, and started bashing him over the head repeatedly while shouting something about her husband.

Another imp backed into the hotel, firing off two shots from a gun and screaming, “How d’you like that, bitch?!” When what looked like a brick sailed through the door and clipped him on the horn, he scrambled out of the way, taking shelter against the wall. “Oh, bitch didn’t like that at all, I guess.”

The sinner finally stopped moving once his head was fully caved in, and the strangled imp was released, collapsing into the carpet and gasping for breath. “Thank… you… honey…!”

“Of course, sweetie, don’t’chu think nothin’ of it!”

Outside, someone screamed, and Alastor heard the snarl of a hellhound followed by the distinctive sound of a broken neck. After that, it was silent, and after a few moments, a young female hellhound stepped in, looking at her phone. “Kay,” she said. “Dead.”

“God! Fucking! Dammit!!” The tallest imp got to his feet. “We are never doing this absolute bullshit again, Moxxie!!”

“HOW IS THIS MY FAULT?!”

“Fucking sinners, fucking overlords, fucking van…!” The imp turned, then stopped, looking straight at Alastor and presumably the rest of them. When he fell silent, the other imps and the hellhound also looked, the three of them freezing as well.

“Oh,” the hellhound said. “…huh.”

“This is the hotel,” the white-haired imp said. “This is— this is the hotel?! You drove us to the hotel?!”

“Uh, yeah, obviously, Moxx,” the tall imp scoffed, stepping over him casually. “But hey, you were the first one to come in, technically.”

“…oh, crumbs.”

Alastor was so overcome by the sheer absurdity of the situation that he almost felt like laughing. It was the only thing that stopped him from destroying all four of the Hellborn in that instance.

…a small group of Hellborn who rescued him and brought him back to VoxTek…?

No one else had moved, either, as though they were too stunned to do anything but stare. Finally, Charlie spoke. “…hello… wel—… welcome to the… Hazbin Hotel…?” She cleared her throat. “Did you… need something?”

“Yeah,” the tall imp said as though the past five minutes hadn’t happened. He raised his hand and, with no hesitation or even any fear, he pointed at Alastor. “I need to talk to the Radio Demon. And you’re going to listen to me.”

•••

hey look the gang’s all here

kind of

angel’s not but yeah

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