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ilguna · 2 years ago

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☼ the water heals our wounds (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick was beginning to believe that the damage done on you was permanent, but he had to try one more idea.

warnings; swearing, death mention, torture mention

wc; 5.3k

–

It’s too loud.

You can hear everything, between the people shouting nearby, and the consistent beeping from machines. There’s voices talking over one another, orders being barked around the room, fighting for more attention.

It’s bringing on a pounding headache, as if there’s tiny people inside of your head, slamming their fists on the inside of your skull with both hands, trying to get out. At first, it’s bearable, considering what you’ve been through lately.

And then it burns.

You fly up in the bed, eyes opening, hands reaching for the source of pain, attached to your forearm. Several people reach to grab and restrain you to keep from moving any further. You can see that there’s a needle, blood moving into a small vial.

“Miss (L/n), we’re just drawing your blood.” A nurse tells you, “You’re in District Thirteen, you’re safe now.”

“Dis—” You begin, and find that your voice is hoarse. You clear your throat, “District Thirteen isn’t real.”

“I assure you, it is.” He says, “We just had a team of volunteers rescue you and a few other victors from the Capitol.”

“The Tribute Center.” You murmur, watching as they pull the needle out, and replace it with a cotton pad, wrapping your elbow. “We were in the Tribute Center.”

“Yes, very good.” He says, “Can you tell me where you’re from?”

“District Four.” Your face twists, the headache is coming back, “Can we—?”

“When did you win the Hunger Games?”

“Sixty-Seventh. Can we talk about something else?” You look away, observing the space you’re in, “Anything else…”

You must be in District Thirteen’s hospital, judging by what you’re surrounded by. You can see a lot of people moving around, dressed similarly. The nurses and doctors look like they’re wearing different outfits than—what you can only guess is—regular civilians. There’s a few people sitting on gurneys dressed in hard armor and bulletproof vests, pockets absent of weapons.

You’d like to say that it’s not usually this busy or disorganized often, and that’s because of how the medical crew are reacting to the sheer amount of people in here. It’s crawling with bodies. They push people on gurneys away into hallways, some straight into private rooms where they pull the blinds, others are subjected to being treated in the main open room, like you.

You must not be high risk, then.

You watch as a team of professionals wheel a gurney by, someone laying unresponsive in the bed. You look away quickly, to the next rapidly moving object, and realize that you recognize the person. You manage to look back in time to see who it really is, stomach squeezing in horror.

It’s Johanna on that bed, head shaven to the skin, scabs covering every inch of available skin. She looks disgusting, but it answers the question that’s been on your mind these past couple of weeks. You finally know what’s been happening to Johanna in the Capitol.

“Are you hungry? Or thirsty?” He asks, “We normally have to wait for clearance, but you’re alert and responsive. They wouldn’t want us to wait for permission.”

“I’d like water, if you can.” You nod, “I’m not hungry, though.”

He gives you a smile, turning to place his hand on the girls’ shoulder next to him, beginning to talk to her. You look away again, towards the doors that have just been pushed open, doors slamming against the wall from the force.

A young woman with dark hair in a braid is looking around the room quickly, searching for something. You get a glimpse of her face, and you know instantly that it’s Katniss Everdeen.

You grit your teeth, a shudder running through your body. You grip onto the railings handles, letting out a shaky breath. You’ve seen her a lot recently, although you’ve never met her, not yet anyway. You had mentored the Quarter Quell—no, no you shouldn’t think about that.

“Gale!” Katniss shouts, starting for him.

A nurse blocks her, saying something, and you’re trying to read her lips, when a voice cuts through the noise.

“(Y/n)!”

You flinch, jerking to the other side of the bed, squeezing your eyes shut. The thoughts—the memories—of all the times he’s screamed your name, screamed at you. The morning he left, the purple bruises…

He punished you, said that it’s your fault this happened.

“Miss (L/n)?” The nurse asks, placing his hand on yours.

You jump, swatting his hand off of yours. In the process, your eyes fly open, catching sight of him—of Finnick—coming towards you. You can’t let him have you, the last time he did—the nightmares still haven’t stopped. You can’t do it again. You need to get out of here.

You almost trip getting out of the bed, legs tangled in the scratchy white hospital sheets. Your bare feet slap against the tile floor, which is cool against your soles. You stumble a few steps to catch your balance before wheeling around, both hands grabbing the gurney.

“Get away from me!” You scream, pulling the back back a bit before launching it in his direction.

You watch his smile drop, eyebrows drawing in. He’s doing it again, the next thing you know he’ll have everyone on his side. He’s not going to trick you, you’re not going back to him this time. You’ll die before you end up in his hands. It was better in the Capitol. He wasn’t there, and you were safe.

A couple people jump to catch the gurney before it slams into him. It almost makes you want to scream at them, too, for trying to protect him. You don’t have time to, you turn around and start for the exit doors on the other side of the room. The male nurse that had been helping you tries to make a grab, but completely misses.

“Stop her!” He shouts.

You slip past several people, slamming into the metal doors, which start emitting a terrible, high-pitched scream that starts once they’re opened. You make a run for it down the long, cement hallways, feet slapping painfully on the floor. You can hear shouting behind you, pleading for you to stop.

You’re faster than they are. The further you run, the less you’re able to hear them, until their voices are gone entirely. You end up tripping into one of the side doors, leading you into a dark room. Good, they shouldn’t be able to find you here for a long time.

You drag your feet to the corner of the room, panting, struggling to catch your breath. The burning in your chest slowly grows stronger, you dig your nails into your collarbone, trying to distract from the pain.

You slide down the wall, letting out a sob, hands moving to clamp over your ears to block out the humming sound coming from somewhere inside of the room.

—

You hate the hospital wing of District Thirteen.

Surprisingly, it has nothing to do with the fact of how the medical team is treating you. For once in your life, they couldn’t be more considerate and caring about your feelings. It’s refreshing, considering you’ve been in and out of the hospital since you won the Hunger Games.

The Capitol didn’t catch that your immune system was weaker than it had been before. You were home for a week before you caught the nasty disease that was going around the district. You spend two and a half months in the hospital trying to recover and leave.

You honestly thought you were miserable in the arena, but it was nothing compared to how they treated you in the Four hospital. You know it was nothing personal, that’s how they treated all their patients. It was just so odd to see so much aggression in a place of healing.

There were a few times you almost left the hospital without being discharged because you couldn’t handle it anymore. It’s difficult to deal with that behavior in such a fragile state of mind. You couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares that plagued you, you were hardly eating because every bite made you nauseous.

The only reason why you were convinced to stay each time was because of Finnick. You think you remember him telling you that you could risk putting yourself in more danger if you didn’t stay. The last thing you wanted to do after you won the Games was die when you got home.

When you told that story to the Head Doctor here—mostly the part that you hate hospitals, in hopes that he would change his mind and let you stay in your own dorm—he hung onto that story, and a certain factor about it. Like how you didn’t mention Finnick in a negative light.

Those times in the hospital could’ve very well have been Finnick drawing you in. You smelt honey each time you were around him, making you feel safe enough to land. And the second you did, he trapped you.

The doctor won’t let you leave, no matter how many times you beg him to.

Like you said, you completely understand that they’re just doing their jobs when they come to check on you, and accompany you to the bathroom, and take you for walks around the hallways. The issue is that there’s nothing more you want right now than to be left alone.

When they hover like this, it’s like they’re trying to set you back. They did this in the Capitol, hovered over your smallest movements, made you second-guess your sentences. Now, you’re always waiting for the nurses here to say something like they did, always waiting for the drop that’ll never come.

“Do you want to go around one more time?” The nurse asks.

“No, I’m done.”

There’s no point in walking around these halls. There’s nothing to look at, no rooms to look inside of. All it does is leave you to your thoughts, because half of the time, the nurses can’t bring themselves to carry a conversation. You might as well stay inside of your room.

“You remember that you’re supposed to be pushing yourself, right?” She asks.

“He wants me to push myself to walk in a rectangle?” You snap back, looking at her, “I can obviously walk just fuckin’ fine. They didn’t break my fucking legs.”

“It’s to keep up your stamina.”

“If you wanted to test my stamina, then you’d let me walk around the entire bunker and keep your fucking mouth shut to see how long I’ll go for.” You shake your head, rounding the corner to go inside of your assigned room.

You make it two steps before you stop, eyes locked on the foreign object. Your foot moves back to get you out of there, but you know that there’s nowhere to run to, anymore. You need clearance to get through the doors, and you can’t do it without one of the nurse’s approval.

You would’ve snuck out by now if you could.

Your arms wrap around your upper body to hug yourself, fingers digging into your upper arm’s flesh to ground yourself.

It’s just a vase of flowers, it can’t hurt you. What can, is the thought of him being in here, delivering these himself. What else can be in here? What of your belongings did he touch? Is this why the nurses insisted that you get out of bed at that exact moment.

“(Y/n)?”

“Was he in here?” The words are harsh.

“No, we don’t let visitors back here, they are to wait in the lobby.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is surprisingly measured, despite the uncontrollable urge to freak out. You grip your arms tighter, “Was he in here?”

She’s silent for a few seconds, “Yes.”

“Why on earth would you let him?” You tear your eyes from the flowers, “Who approved of that?”

“Doctor Hurley did.” She says, “There’s been so much progress between you two, so he allowed Finnick to come in here on special request to deliver a gift. He picked the flowers himself this morning. He wanted them at their freshest.

You begin to take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself, “I don’t understand.”

“What’s the matter?”

“You let him in my space?” You ask, tears building in your eyes. You can’t be safe, not even back here, in an area where you can’t escape if he were here. Is he here? “The one place that he wasn’t supposed to have access to? You let him in here? What did he touch? Did he leave?”

There’s a smile that hints at the corners of her lips. He must’ve talked to her, that’s the only reason why she thinks it’s okay. He told her the same sob story that he told you to get you to stay. She’s supposed to be on your side.

You start inside of your room, one long stride after the other, hand reaching for the clear vase of colorful flowers, paired together to show the end of summer, the beginning of fall. There’s a few long leaves sticking out, giving you more of the outdoors.

You twist around, letting out a scream as you throw the vase at the nurse. She jumps out of the way, making it shatter against the concrete wall instead, glass bursting into pieces, flying in every direction. The bundle of flowers lands in the puddle of glass and water.

—

“I want to go to the cafeteria to eat!” You shout, hand flying out in the direction of the door, “I don’t understand why Peeta’s allowed to go and I’m not!”

Doctor Hurley is shaking his head at you, face twisted like it always is when he’s delivering bad news. Behind him stands Boggs, the head of security, arms crossed and waiting in the doorway. You demanded to see both of them today, because it would be the only way to appeal to both at the same time.

“It’s not an act of unfairness, (Y/n).” Doctor Hurley says, “Let’s say you have an episode, there’s a chance you could trigger both Johanna and Peeta at the same time too. And it’s vice versa with Peeta.”

“You really think that Peeta’s aggression could set me off?” You ask, “Peeta and I might have had the same treatment, but it was obviously done in different ways. He’s aggressive towards Katniss, and they made me afraid of Finnick.”

“Yes, precisely.”

You turn your attention to Boggs, “Please, you know that my first reaction wouldn’t be to fight. The first thing that I’d do is run. All you’d have to do is worry about getting Peeta under control.”

“We would still have to spend time finding you after you run. That first day you came here, you only had access to the hospital wing, and it took hours for us to find you. It’ll take longer, possibly days, if you went hiding here.” Boggs says.

“Yet you were able to find Katniss each time she hid, right?” You shoot back, watching his face twist. “Yeah, I know about that because of Haymitch. And worst-case scenario, if you can’t find me, I come down from the hysteria and come out myself.” Now you look back at Hurley, “You’ve been teaching me self-soothing techniques for a reason to bring myself back down when I’m feeling that way.”

Hurley shakes his head, “This is not a time to put that to the test.”

You cross your arms, shaking your head, “Then why don’t you send Johanna or Peeta to their rooms? It’d be a fair trade-off.”

“We can’t, we’re under special orders from Coin to continue to push his progress. We need him outside of his comfort zone.” Boggs says, “And Johanna’s stable enough to mix her with the other victors. We can’t risk a third.”

“So he’s the golden one, again?” You ask, “You say that it’s not a matter of being unfair, but that’s exactly what it is.”

“(Y/n), why don’t you go down on a different day?” Hurley asks, “It’ll still let you feel some sense of normalcy.”

You slam your fists into the desk, the tray full of food rattles against the wood, “You only let them go down once a week! I don’t want to sit with people I don’t know! I want the victors, for fuck’s sake!” You scoot away from the table, back further onto the bed to give you more leg mobility. This is when you draw your leg back and kick the table so it topples over, the tray hits the floor, food splattering up the wall. “I want to see Finnick!”

The room’s silent for a good minute, while you struggle to get your emotions under control, realizing that this is exactly what they meant about you triggering Peeta and Johanna. These outbursts don’t help you, but what else are you supposed to do? They don’t listen to you. They back you into a corner and give you solutions you don’t care about.

“You said—” You begin, wiping the tears that are forming in the corners of your eyes away, “You said that denying me things like this is a step back.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Hurley says.

“It feels like you’re trying to keep me from moving forward, by keeping me away from them. How am I supposed to know how to act around them, if you don’t give me a chance?” You ask, “I want an opportunity.”

Boggs watches you for a few more seconds, and then he lets out a sigh, “Tell the nurses to give her a jumpsuit.”

Hurley turns to look at him, “After this?” He motions to the mess on the floor, “How do you think Peeta will react?”

“I think Peeta’s shown a lot of empathy for the people that were with him in the Capitol, recently.” Boggs says, “He’s made it a long way as well, and I’m not going to prioritize him. If there’s a step back, fine. We have another couple of weeks to work on it.”

“If you think so.” Hurley looks at you, “We’ll have a nurse bring a jumpsuit. Boggs will bring you down.”

“Thank you.”

Both of them leave, heading in the direction of the nurse station at the end of the hall. You try not to bother them too much if you don’t have to. They’ve begun to lift a lot of the restrictions they’ve put on you, which is a relief. It’s driving you crazy to be treated like a child.

While you wait, you go over to clean up the mess you made. You place the table upright, and get to work on using napkins to scoop the specific portions of food back onto the metal tray. By the time Boggs comes back, the food is relatively gone, and you can’t even tell you knocked the table over.

He hands over your new outfit, one that you’ve worn a few times before. You take it, and shuffle inside of the bathroom. You use the one hair tie they allow you to have to tie your hair out of your face, and then you change into the grey outfit. You leave the bathroom, pulling on your flats, because that’s all they allow you to have.

Boggs escorts you out of your room, down a hall and through a pair of swinging doors. They moved you out of the first area because you stopped showing a threat of escaping. You nearly cried when they told you the news, because the nurses there are significantly meaner than the ones over here. And they’ve told you several times that they would never have let Finnick go into your room like that, regardless of what Doctor Hurley approved.

The moment you step foot out of the hospital, you wrap your arms around your body to hold in the anxiety that’s beginning to bubble inside of you. In a few days, it would’ve been two weeks since you last saw Finnick. You’re not used to him being away for so long, especially with how persistent he is. You’ve been told by the nurses that it’s because he’s working on something with Coin, Plutarch and Haymitch.

When you asked more about it, you were told that they didn’t know anything. And even if they did, they wouldn’t be allowed to tell you, because you haven’t hit that stage yet. Yes, you’re a victor, and you’ve just managed to survive the Capitol, but that doesn’t give you a rite of passage here.

Boggs brings you to an elevator, where he has you step inside, and then pulls the door down. He presses a button on a box next to him, and the two of you begin your descent to the cafeteria’s floor. The elevator’s not even close to as nice as the ones from the Capitol, those ones move smoothly and noiselessly.

It stops, he pulls the door open, and leads you to the cafeteria doors. He stops in front of them, “If you feel the need to leave, you have to let me know.”

“I will.” You nod.

“We’ll grab you a tray, and then sit down with them. Lunch just started, it should be over in thirty minutes.”

You nod again, letting him know you’re listening. He goes through the doors, and you follow behind him, hugging yourself tighter to give you something to focus on. A few people glance to look at you, but their eyes don’t linger for very long, returning to the person they’re talking to.

Boggs brings you to the short line that leads to the window where you get your food. When it’s your turn, the lady on the other side gives you a wide smile, and tells you to enjoy. You wonder how many of the people in here know who you are.

Boggs starts walking away, and you follow behind him, taking deep breaths to calm yourself, because you can no longer hug yourself. You’ve got the tray in your hands, something to focus on.

“Mind if we join you?” Boggs says, stepping aside.

You suck in your bottom lip, giving a smile to the table of victor’s in front of you.

“I was wondering when they’d finally let you out of your cell.” Johanna says first, motioning to the one open spot, “We have so much to catch up on.”

“Trust me, it was a fight to even come eat lunch down here.” You set the tray on the table, and then move to sit on the bench. Peeta scoots over to give you more room, “If it weren’t for Boggs, I’d be eating my lunch off of the floor.”

He laughs behind you.

“Lucky you.” Peeta murmurs, “You do that often?”

You breathe out a laugh, “I try not to anymore.”

You pick up the fork, twisting it in your hand, looking up to see exactly who you’re sitting with. Johanna’s sitting across from you, with one leg up on the bench, leaning into it while she eats. Peeta’s sitting to your right, his own personal bodyguards tower behind him, they must not bother him.

Katniss is sitting across from Peeta, but she’s more toward the end of the table, eating with the man you saw on your first day, the one she couldn’t see, Gale. On the other side of Johanna sits a blonde girl, twirling her hair around her finger. She offers you a wide smile.

And the last person, who was on the other side of Peeta—now next to you—is…

You swallow thickly at the sight of Finnick, feeling your heart begin to beat faster in your chest. Usually when you see him, it’s across a table, at the far side so that you’re not close. Always your request, never his. He goes along with it because he doesn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.

You have to quickly remind yourself that he won’t hurt you. Doctor Hurley and his team of doctors have been working hard to try and reverse the damage that was done in the Capitol. However, if there’s one thing that people tend to hold onto the most, it’s fear.

Finnick raises his eyebrows, the small smile he was holding is slowly fading, “Do you want me to move?”

You shake your head, “No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, “It wouldn’t be a big deal, you didn’t know—”

“I’m sure.” You smile, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. I heard you’re working on some projects with Beetee?”

Finnick’s expression transforms entirely, lighting up, “Yes, he’s showing me new trident designs. You’d love them, he made one the other day that made me think of you. It had these vines that snaked around the handle, and bright colorful flowers. It’s not practical to use, but I know how you like the prettier looks.”

“Maybe you can show me the next time we have our meeting. It was on paper, right?”

“Yeah, I think he made a small prototype, it’s plastic, so hopefully it’ll pass through the doors.” Finnick shrugs.

“That sounds nice.”

Johanna lets out a scoff, “Nerds.”

—

“I still can’t believe you convinced them to let both of us up here.” You say, jogging slightly to catch up with Finnick. “And alone?”

“I have a way with words.” Finnick turns to wink at you, “You’re going to love it.”

He readjusts the bag he has on his shoulder, it’s gotta be heavy. You offered to carry some of the food inside, but he told you that he wants you to enjoy being outside again for the first time in months.

“This is the last door.” He tells you, going through it first, and then holding it open.

The sunlight streams through the door, and blinds you on your way through. You take in a deep breath as soon as you’re fully outside. It smells so fresh, lighter than the recycled air from inside. The sun on your skin feels nice, and it’s warm.

“Johanna would love it up here.” You murmur, crossing your arms over your chest, “Do you think they’d let her out?”

“If she shows signs of getting better, they will, but she’s having issues at the moment.” Finnick shakes his head, “I wish it could be the three of us again.”

You nod, “So where are we picnicking? Right here?”

Finnick scoffs, “Are you kidding? No, I’ve got a special spot that you’re also going to love?”

“How deep?” You ask, “We shouldn’t go too far.”

“It’s not too far, I promise. It’s closeby, Katniss showed me where it is.”

“Okay,” You motion for him to go first, “Lead the way.”

Finnick begins walking along a path that has been stomped into the ground. The two of you travel through the trees, and you can’t help yourself when you touch every green object you pass. The bark, the leaves, the grass, the rocks. You pluck a white flower out of a bush and carefully tuck it behind your ear.

“Can I ask what you and Katniss passed? I heard it was some sort of test.” You pull a leaf off of a plant to fold and pull apart while you walk. “I was going to ask Johanna but I was told I couldn’t see her.”

“I can tell you, but you can’t go and tell Boggs that I did. You can’t tell anyone, actually.” He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes lingering on the flower.

“Promise.” You smile.

“Well, they’re planning an attack on the Capitol, which you already know.” He starts, “The test Katniss and I took was to see if we were eligible to join.”

You can feel the smile disappear from your face, “Why would you want to do that?”

“To help, of course.” He says, “I was placed on the same squad as Katniss, Boggs is going to be leading it. Johanna failed the test, she freaked out. That’s why she wasn’t available for visitors. I had to fight them to be let in.”

“When are you going?” You ask, fingers gravitating toward your mouth, teeth biting onto nails.

“Soon, hopefully. We won’t know more information until we ship out.”

You’re not sure why they, Katniss and Finnick, would want to go there after seeing what happened to you, Johanna and Peeta. Haven’t they learned anything from it? What happens when they get captured? They’re automatically killed.

“That’s a bad idea.” You murmur, “For either of you to go.”

“Our luck, we won’t even be able to do any of the action.” Finnick shrugs, “I could tell by Boggs’ face that we’re going to be decoration.”

You hum, “How much farther?”

“Only a couple more minutes.” Finnick tells you.

He changes the topic, talking about Peeta’s cake decorating skills from a couple of weeks ago. They threw a party and filmed it to use for propaganda. You were in a few of the shots, but not many. The cake that Peeta made had to be carried out by four people, and they were careful not to ruin the beautiful icing that must’ve taken Peeta hours, despite his skilled hand.

You wish you had even half the talent that he does.

“We’re going this way.” Finnick begins to go down a slope, you follow, not really paying attention.

And then you hear it, the sound of running water. You pick up speed, going right past Finnick to see if what you’re hearing is correct. You’re led to a tree, a patch of shade, and beyond that, a small cliff that leads to a shallow river.

“Oh my god!” You gasp, “You knew this was here?”

“That’s what I was bringing you to.” He laughs, placing the bag down by the tree. He reaches in to pull out the blanket, spreading it over the patch of shade.

You reach to pull off your shoes, not bothering to entertain the idea of sitting down, not with something so refreshing and familiar nearby. You throw your shoes by the end of the blanket, and move on to rolling up the legs of the jumpsuit, not wanting them to get soaking wet.

“What are you doing?” He asks, looking up at you.

“I’m getting in, of course!” You turn away from him, heading to the river.

“Wait!” He shouts behind you, getting up, “What if it’s faster than you think?”

“So be it! Let me get carried away by the waves!” You laugh, sitting down on the edge before scooting in.

You’re afraid that you’re going to land harshly on rocks, but your feet sink into mud. The water is cold, but not as bad as it can be back home in Four. It feels nice on your skin, and combined with the sun… it really is a perfect day for a picnic.

You wade deeper into the water, feeling it go up to your knees. When you turn around, you’re met with Finnick, standing at the top, staring down at you. You splash a handful of water in his direction, letting out a laugh.

“This is so much better than taking a shower and pretending it’s raining!” You throw your head back, arms out while you spin slightly, “I love it!”

“You don’t want to eat first?” Finnick asks, laughing.

You wave the idea away, “This reminds me of the summer after I won. How we went to the beach all day, forgot sunscreen and went back home burnt to hell. It hasn’t been that hot in a long time.”

Finnick’s face twists, a pout appearing for a second, before it disappears, “I remember.”

“Get in here!” You splash at him again.

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arahusk · 14 days ago

Text

Don't Question a Good Thing, Keep Playing That Jazz Characters/Pairing: Alastor/Husk, Niffty Words: 5,892 Ao3: [here] For @radiotrioweek! The trio go out to a jazz lounge. Chaos ensues.

Hands in his pockets, Husk tried to watch where he stepped. Bits of broken glass, a few rusty nails, and old cigarette butts littered the sidewalk, but he swerved around them almost in reflex. He didn’t think such a low run area would be where Alastor would spend his time. Then again, his boss thought feasting on carcasses was high-dining.

But he shouldn’t have worried. Niffty was doing a bang-up job at being the sweeper for tonight.

“Clean, clean, clean! Watch your toes!” She hummed as she got out her broom from one of her many hidden pockets and swept away the glass, the cigarettes, and even some severed fingers (Husk won’t ask about that) from the pathway with fast-paced energy. She was kind enough to do it for Husk and his bare feet, but he knew who she really did it for.

“A jazz lounge all the way here?” Husk asked his boss. He shook his head. “I’ve been around this area before. This place is a dump.”

With Niffty more or less in the lead, Husk was left walking just slightly behind Alastor. His boss seemed to be in a good mood, more or less. But after recently teaming up with the Princess of Hell, Husk supposed it would make anyone feel a little like they were on cloud nine.

Especially so soon after one appeared from their seven-year stint from who knows where.

“Husker, if you know of any good spots for a good wind down, I’d be delighted to hear it!” A little flourish of a twirl with his cane, and once they turned a corner passed an abandoned liquor store, Husk was met with a nondescript door, wedged into the concrete wall, as if the stone were ready to smash it apart. “But you should know that the best spots are always hidden.”

Husk rolled his eyes. “I remember the speakeasies, but prohibition days are a very old memory for me.”

Niffty sweeped and even started mopping, both cleaning tools in each hand, until she bumped against the door. Her eye widened, along with her grin. “Ooo, is there a big mess past here?”

Alastor chuckled, giving the girl a pat on her head. “Perhaps once we’re through with it!”

Husk already had a feeling how this whole outing was about to go.

The sky was a deep red, giving the entire area a gloomy atmosphere reminiscent of old horror films Husk just barely recalled, where only demonic rats with multiple eyes skittered about the ground. Niffty would have pounced for them were it not for Alastor quickly gathering her by the scruff of her neck and promptly putting her down by his side. In the same motion, he used his other hand which held his cane to knock on the door.

A razor-thin eyehole slid open, and with it, a razor-thin glowing eye appeared, pupil dilated so greatly it was like an ink stroke over yellow. “Hey, password? You got it?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Alastor checked over his nails as if they hadn’t been soaking in blood earlier that day. “I’m an old friend of the proprietor! Why, the slugger has been asking for my patronage to get his lounge going! How’s his wife doing by the way? Last I heard, it’s been a bit of a swing and a miss! But I don’t know what he expected from marrying a gal from Cannibal Town. Decapitation is all the rage there these days!”

The filtered laughter played around him, sounding even more eerie with the alleyway acoustics. The eye behind the door blinked several times.

“... That’s not the password.”

“Of course not! I was just making a little gab! Not to your taste?”

“Listen, freak. No password, no entry! Now go away and take your—” A quick glancing around before they finally found Niffty smiling right beside Alastor. “Your wife and your—” Another glance that then settled on Husk. “...Wait, don’t I know you?”

Husk did a quick catalogue in his mind and hoped to fuck this wasn’t another clown he owed an IOU to. “No.”

“Ha!” Alastor interrupted like a static burst through the speakers. “Very amusing, riveting, actually. But you see…”

Instant darkness, one that only left Husk and Niffty themselves visible, while a mass of writing shadows hovered over the eyehole, where that eye was now so wide it covered the entire opening. Tendrils stabbed right through the wood, and corrupted feed made Husk’s ears lean back in irritation.

“You should have just opened the door.”

While Niffty watched in awe, Husk pressed two fingers near the bridge of his nose. “This again now…?”

The sinner screeched from behind the door and, whether it was instinct or just an odd loyalty to his job, slammed shut the eyehole before what Husk hoped meant the guy was running off. Alastor’s tendrils ripped the door right off the hinges, taking a few stone blocks with it, all while the feedback continued to blare. The door was then tossed like a banana peel behind them, which was then accompanied by what sounded like a highway accident from the nearby road.

With the entrance effectively wrecked, the sinner was cowering to the side of the little room he was in. His own stubs that were supposed to be horns looked weak compared to the array of antlers that Alastor now carried on his head.

“Sorry, chum, but I am in a bit of a rush. You’ve also been quite rude to me and my entourage.” A little creak of his neck to the side, and Alastor swerved past the entrance, limbs elongating, antlers stretching further, a sleep paralysis demon brought to life. “And I haven’t had dinner yet.”

With a whimper, the sinner demon gestured towards the stairs near the back of the room. “The club is there! Just don’t eat me! I didn’t know you were the Radio Demon, okay!?”

And just as quickly, the antlers receded, and Alastor was cracking his neck again a bit to look down at the sinner with his professional grin. “Oh, silly me. Did I forget to introduce myself? I assure you, that was a bit of a faux pas on my part. Thank you for being quite understanding!”

Tucking his cane under his arm, Alastor waved to both Husk and Niffty who still stood outside. “Come on! It’s getting close to the hour!”

“Are we going to see a show!?” Niffty asked in delight, even as her eye roved toward the opening, probably getting an urge to fix it somehow. Husk hesitated. His wings felt iffy, and the sirens in the distance for the vehicular manslaughter Alastor had mindlessly caused was distracting him. But there was no point in remaining alone, so he followed quickly after. He avoided eyes with the sinner who still cowered, skin so pale it almost seemed that his boss had already sucked the life right out of him.

As they all walked downstairs, a gentle shaking through the floor, Husk had to ask his boss then. “Were you really going to eat him if he didn’t open up? Just some random low life? Thought you had higher tastes than that.”

At least when Mimzy isn’t bringing trash to your door for you to clean up.

Alastor chuckled, gazing at Husk from the corner of his eyes. “A little snack now and then does me well, you know.” He moved the cane from his arm, holding the handle in both hands. The vibration felt around them was to a beat, one that Alastor hummed to.

Husk didn’t press further, but the whole thing made him uneasy.

When they eventually made it to another set of doors at the bottom of the stairs, a double-set that looked like it would open inward, it was surprisingly devoid of any guards or bouncers whatsoever. It was also as unassuming as the one above ground, but without being broken to pieces—yet.

Before Husk could even take another step towards it, Alastor whipped out his cane to block his path, inadvertently smacking it just against Husk’s ribs.

“Now, hold on a moment, my friend!”

“Fucking hell that hurt!” Husk pressed a hand against his chest, hissing between his teeth. “What is it?!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how these things go! Tonight calls for a bit of class. We need to look the part, after all!”

Niffty was already gasping with glee, her little feet stamping the floor as she raised her head up to Alastor. “Ooo, do we get to dress fancy!? Doll me up, Sir!”

“Of course, Niffty. I made sure I came prepared for the both of you!” And with that, Alastor gave a sharp snap of his fingers, sounding as loud as a gunshot within the small enclosed space they were in.

Husk expected nothing much to happen besides a quick color change of his cuffs. The bare minimum, as always. Not like Husk really wanted to bother with such things anymore. He watched the green wisp of magic snake around him, flinching from it slightly. He was always reminded of poison, something that would one day enter his veins and finally snap away at his afterlife.

Niffty was his polar opposite, holding up her hands as she made grabbing motions at the wispy light shouting, “Mine! Mine!” She tried to catch it between her palms like it was a living thing, as if she wanted to squeeze it tight between her fingers. Maybe Alastor noticed, and let the light play around her hands and hair before finally getting to work on her clothes.

Her dress started to billow as the green light changed her wardrobe on the spot. Her maid’s skirt thinned to a flowing red dress, one with small rhinestones embedded in the hem. She was even given accessories such as a fur scarf that nearly enveloped her shoulders, and her head topped with a familiar flapper-style hat, complete with a black feather to adorn it. Of course, Alastor’s taste was predictable.

Niffty was already laughing giddily, chewing at her fur scarf, kneading it between sharp teeth. If she was saying thank you, it was muffled between the scarf and her laughter.

Husk had been so distracted by Niffty’s antics that he barely noticed when his own wardrobe change was done until Alastor’s announcement. “And that takes care of that, Husker! Why, now you’re truly the cat’s meow!”

He was about ready to land a punch at Alastor’s grinning face, chained or not, until when he raised his arm, he noticed it wasn’t just a simple color change.

There was a suit sleeve, clean pressed, and shiny cufflinks near his wrist. He looked down at himself, and saw the suit in full, echoing that of his casino days. His suspender straps were hooked over a buttoned-up shirt, connected to black pants that were made from silk. He wasn’t even bare foot anymore, now wearing expensive leather shoes, looking as if they were spit shined clean.

He was probably speechless for too long, because Niffty scrambled up to him, her eye widening and reflecting the motes of green light that hovered around him still. “Whoa!” She pointed at him like he’d grown a second head. “Fancy cat!”

“Why you looking at me like it’s weird?!”

“Because it is!”

“Now, now, we can all gawk at ourselves later! Time to get this show on the road!”

Alastor was already motioning them both with his cane, and it was then Husk noted Alastor’s own outfit. No matter what, the Radio Demon seemed to prefer his clothes to be somewhat tattered, yet act like it was all expertly tailored. His suit was still a stupidly bright red, though it lost the pinstripes, and had stitches embedded into the spaces around his shoulders. He even cemented his new outfit with a top hat, also sporting those same suspicious stitches, which already made Husk’s chest feel weird just thinking about it.

Once realizing that… he had to check, and so a quick glance up at his own head confirmed it. He made sure to give Alastor the deepest frown, snazzy suit or no. “You’re still making me wear the hat?”

Alastor tipped his own to Husk, grin climbing even higher across his cheeks. “Of course! Looks good on you. And now we can be twinsies!”

“Don’t you say twinsies ever again.”

“Threesies! Look!” Niffty was hopping up and down, pointing to her own. Her hopping got so manic that she practically leapt on Alastor’s shoulders, who held her up with one hand, barely registering the action. She might as well have been an extension of himself. “I love matching clothes with the bad boys…”

Husk sighed. “Fine. So that means whatever we’re here for is more than just beating up heads, is it?” He didn’t think Alastor would make them play dress-up if they were going to ruin it a few minutes later.

Alastor chuckled, but there was that curious glint in his eyes, a little blip in the radio filter that coated every syllable. “My, Husker. Can you not believe that I would just take you both for a night on the town? Especially after all your splendid work as the hotel staff!”

“No,” Husk immediately answered. “Not when I fall asleep at the bar for half the day and Niffty here is getting herself stuck in the vents while letting the roaches roam free.”

“I’m trying!” Niffty countered. “I have a good plan next time! I’m going to bait them with their children… then they’ll know suffering…”

“...Yeah, so, proving my point. We’re fucking shit at our jobs.” Husk stuck his hands in his pockets, though he was careful not to slouch like the usual. It was like being in a suit brought back memories of the high life for him. “So what’s your angle?”

And, for a moment, he was almost sure that Alastor would tell him just then. The smile lost its smugness for a moment, the eyes widening a little to show that he was considering…

Then, Alastor gave another laugh, high-pitched and raucous as he started to walk for the doors. “Husker, you and that little frowny face of yours! Geez! Just live a little! Ha ha!”

As if to finalize it, Alastor went ahead and slapped Husk right across his backside as he passed him by.

Husk yowled and rounded at the demon. “Wh-what are you—WHAT?!”

“Oh come on, now. Don't be such a prude!”

“Prude boy!” Niffty giggled, then poked at Husk’s cheek. She suddenly spoke calmly, with barely concealed glee. “I can fix that for you.”

Husk delicately pushed the maniacal woman’s hand away, watching for a sudden needle to sprout out from her fingers. “You know what, I’m good.”

Once the doors finally opened, Husk was transported to a world of jazzy sound and bright colors. It was almost surreal just how it all crashed into him once they entered the lounge, like a tidal wave of saxophone crescendos and upbeat giggling, along with glasses clinking against each other while the alcohol spilled over. Demons from all around the Pride Ring were here, including hellborns that mingled around sinners with barely a thought, but it was still a sinner demon’s haven all the same. Husk was losing count of just how many different-shaped heads he was seeing, and the amount of eyes or mouths were rare;y the same between each head either.

There was a bar that put his own to shame, and it helped that it didn’t have any grotesque bones and antlers as part of its decor. An array of colorful bottles and glasses lined the shelves, and a quick glance at their labels showed Husk that this was the exceedingly rich stuff—maybe even illegal. Half of these vintages were impossible to get through any normal means, and he was sure whoever managed this place had a sin list a mile long to even get such goods. But his focus on the bar made him almost miss the live stage up front, spotlights focused on a soft jazz band, with trumpets and saxophones, cellos and trumpets, and a singer that breathed fire with every verse they sang, well, it made for quite a performance.

Honestly, a lot of it reminded him of his casino, on one of its good nights. And he had a lot of good nights back in those days.

“Ah, look! Our reserved table is already set up for us! Such good service!”

Husk looked to where Alastor pointed with his cane—a table that was topped over with several drinks, and placed near a half-seat plush couch, made of azure satin. There were several demons seated at that table, immersed in conversation and not knowing what would happen next.

Yeah, this is just routine, Husk thought.

When the three got close, it was only then those demons—two of them being loan sharks, and a third looking to be an eel-like imp from the watery ring that was Envy—finally noticed them at all. “The fuck you bozos want?” spoke one of the sharks, the right side of his hammerhead hitting his partner when he sharply turned.

“Listen, kid. It’ll be easier if you just moved.” Husk flipped a coin between his claws, making sure to show off the little skull engraved on one of its faces. Even down from his prime, he still had a few tricks up his sleeve. “Our little lady ain’t so patient.”

Niffty slammed both of her hands on the table, jostling the drinks. She was already gathering some of them in an unmarked bag, and all while holding a nasty-looking needle between her teeth. “It’s time for a little clean up!”

Still, even with their threats, Husk was sure it was Alastor’s menacing aura behind them, along with the drone of his static and the shadows lengthening across the floors in subtle but discomforting ways that really sealed the deal there.

These demons were at least smarter than the one upstairs, and quickly lifted up from their seats. The hammerhead even made sure to sweep away any crumbs from their appetizers off the plush cushions. “It-It’s on us! We don’t want no trouble!”

“Now that’s a good man!” Alastor said with an optimistic air. But the static droning hadn’t stopped. It seemed to keep going until Husk had to flatten his ears just to take off the pressure.

The demons hightailed it out of there and disappeared into the crowd. And there was their table, all freshly cleaned and ready for them.

“Maybe one of these days you should just actually reserve a fucking table?” Husk made sure to let Alastor seat himself first, right in the middle of that couch. Niffty popped to his left after cleaning up the floor and scrubbing off the stuck gum from underneath the table. “Not like they wouldn’t just do that for you anyway.”

“Now, Husker. Where would the fun be in that?” He swept his arm to the seat next to him, which made Husk annoyed but still took that empty seat. “It’s refreshing to see your skills in action! It reminds me why I hired you.”

“Hired me? That’s what you call it?” Husk groaned and rolled his eyes. He flagged down a waitress immediately. “I need a fucking drink to deal with you.”

“Can I get mine with bleach?” Niffty asked with a waving hand. “I need to scrub these seats! They’re filthy!”

“If our spending money allows it, sure!”

“Can you both just not?”

Then again, maybe Husk underestimated just how refreshing a night out would be like.

The jazz lounge didn’t have games for him to play, and Hell would freeze over before he’d try and play cards with his party, even if it was just for a single cornchip. But a couple of high-end drinks and a fresh cigar that Alastor had somehow included in his suit pockets sweetened the night much more than he anticipated.

Niffty got incredibly wasted though, which made sense for someone less than two feet tall. And yet…

“Niff, are you really on your second cocktail and already hammered?”

With how she could barely keep her head from lolling to the side, that was clearly a yes. She giggled and hiccuped, her hat staying firmly on her head no matter her constant motions (although she’d lost that feather that was attached to it). She was also wrapping her fur scarf completely around herself until she was basically entangling herself.

Of course, Alastor was doing nothing to help, seemingly amused with her antics while he barely sipped at his glass of rye. In fact, he was taking such miniscule sips that Husk wondered if the guy was drinking even a thumbtack’s worth of it.

Husk felt like a babysitter when he stopped Niffty from falling off her seat, cradling her in one palm. “Boss, not that I don’t mind having a night out, but you’ve just been sitting there and saying nothing for the past hour.”

“Hm?” Alastor gave Husk a sideways glance. He had been focused on something Husk just wasn’t seeing apparently, and it had to be more than just the jazz performance that was up there. “Ha! You certainly like to question a good thing!”

Code for how he should keep his yap shut. Husk growled slightly, but he still had another cigar to take the edge off, one he got a chance to light it.

“Fine, fine. But you’re barely even paying attention to Niff here.”

Who was very much still leaning against his hand, now poking at his fingers with her own. “Hehe, I like it when they’re sharp.”

Husk was currently trying to find his lighter, his cigar held between his teeth, until a small spark of flame appeared right in front of his face. He was annoyed at himself for flinching, and seeing Alastor grinning at him while holding that flame in his palm didn’t exactly make him feel better.

That same fire lit up his cigar, and it was almost by reflex for Husk to take a drag before letting the smoke leave through the spaces of his gritted teeth.

Alastor continued to smile, and somehow, from this angle with the soft lighting of the lounge and the music playing in the background, it looked even sharper than before. “It’s sometimes good to be reminded of who you used to be.”

Husk ignored the heat felt underneath his fur, and leaned back enough to get more breathing space once again. “You still know how to give the worst compliments ever!”

“Ha! Even after a reward, you still manage to act like a grumpy kitty.”

Now Alastor was laughing and it was like whatever he had been focusing on, or was on the lookout for, had been completely forgotten. Too busy reveling in Husk’s moods, and seeing her boss laugh, Niffty joined him, her high-pitched tones meshing so well with Alastor’s soft tenor.

No matter what, Husk felt like the butt of a joke that Alastor had already been writing up weeks ago.

“Can you just lay off and do something about Niff here? Any more drinks and she’s gonna blackout.”

“Well, you’re a professional in that department so I’m sure she’ll have a lot to learn from you!” Alastor answered with another snicker, now letting a fingertip curl around the edge of Husk’s ear. Another flinch. Was it his imagination, or was Alastor moving closer to him on the seat?

“Listen, you bastard—”

“Role call!” Niffty shouted suddenly, her little drunken brain finally latching onto the nickname Husk had said a minute ago. She then scrambled up Husk’s arm and went to perch herself right on top of one of his wings, kicking her feet. “I need one of your feathers to replace the one in my hat!”

“At least let me finish my drink!” Husk was looking forlornly at his whiskey glass on the table, half-filled, ice cubes already melting fast. Fending the girl off was already taking his energy.

And all the while, Alastor was leaning his head on his hand, watching both of his minions struggle with each other, even as a few eyes turned to hear what the commotion was about. No surprise, for the Radio Demon loved entertainment in so many ways.

Except, he heard that tell-tale blip of static right next to him. Sharp and intriguing. It even cut through the live jazz, engulfing the sound until it was all Husk was hearing.

And when Husk turned, he saw Alastor looking towards the stage, his eyes a deep red, the shape of dials cranked all the way to the right. The static blipped again, filled with electricity.

Whatever he was seeing, Husk didn’t get a chance to really see for himself. He didn’t even get a chance to look at the stage, because, before he could even know what the fuck was happening, he soon found himself upended—and what that meant was that Alastor was standing up, and was holding Husk by the waist and carrying him over his shoulder.

Hefted up like some sack of grain, Husk was fidgeting, and his wings flapping in surprise. “What the—? Al, are you fucking drunk?! Let go!”

“No, I’m not, my good friend. But you certainly are!” With another quick snap, Husk’s forgotten whiskey glass was back in his hand. “Get a good nip of the dog for what we’ll be doing next!”

“Oo, me! Pick me up too!” Niffty was reaching up her arms towards Alastor, looking ready to grab at the hem of his suit if she didn’t get her way. She was standing up on the table to get more reach.

Alastor had no hesitation. He picked up Niffty by the scruff of her dress, her high heels clicking against each other as she wiggled her legs. It was almost a bit adorable were it not for the fact that she was actively salivating, her own spit getting onto that fur scarf of hers.

It was all in one motion, the way Alastor seemed to just step over most of the crowd that were in the lounge. It was helped by those shadow tendrils of his as they embedded themselves into the floors and walls, knocking aside a few customers’ drinks in his travel. Husk felt like he was being pulled along in a parachute, the wind hitting his face as they were propelled towards the stage and its line-up of wide-eyed, confused performers.

But, for all that was worth, they acted pretty quickly in getting away. Like those other demons, they knew when to leave once the Radio Demon was in sight.

Husk was not-so-gently dumped onto the stage, and it was only by his stupid feline body that he landed on his feet and managed to not spill his drink, which was still clutched in his claws. Alastor was, of course, much more courteous to Niffty, even as she got saliva all over his shoes. It was like a waterfall had originated in her maw, which only slowed down once she was plopped gently near the center of the stage.

“And to think, we almost missed our schedule!” Alastor whirled his cane as he stepped across the stage to a bunch of confused, half-drunk eyes. “But good ol’ Jimmy wouldn’t go over our act on purpose! Isn’t that right, Jimmy?”

He snapped his fingers once more, and a spotlight shone right over one particular demon in the crowd, who had been busy sidling up next to a pretty thing whose long blonde hair was trailing near the floor and her dress tighter than most corsets. Jimmy, in comparison, wasn’t much of a looker himself.

But Husk recognized him all the same. Another Overlord, but one of those small-time ones. Barely worth a dot on the map, and only owned a few territories, but it was probably this jazz lounge more or less, which definitely earned the guy some cash. Maybe even some souls while he was at it.

The demon, looking partly zombified as his form, was sweating bullets. “A-Alastor!? You, uh… when did you get here?”

But Alastor simply ignored him, back to whirling his cane as another spotlight hovered over him. “Now that everything’s back in order, we can show you folks a good show! Husker! Look alive!”

The saxophone that appeared in Husk’s arms was almost half-expected. He held it up with little issue in one hand, while he was still holding onto the whiskey glass in another. Immediately, he downed the whiskey in one gulp.

Niffty, meanwhile, was looking out over the crowd, her eye very wide and her pupil very dilated. She was no longer gushing out saliva, but she did seem to forget how to breathe. That didn’t stop Alastor from manifesting a little microphone stand for her, one suited for precisely her height, and of course in the popular style of the 30’s.

“After all the money and time I gave to dear old Jimmy to create this wonderful establishment, I thought it would be nice to celebrate it!” Alastor gave a final fingersnap to have a grand piano poof into existence, its ivory keys looking as bleached as the bones he’d pick clean. “Especially after all the loans and promises he made, and all the dealings made in secret, and all the little loopholes he believes himself to be so cunning and slick to not get caught in! It’s really been quite something, folks!”

Jimmy looked ready to disintegrate right there and then, because even he must have heard the soft drone of that radio static rise up in treble ever so slightly.

Trying to cut the Radio Demon out of extra deals, extra money, extra anything—well, Husk saw what happened to those who tried to do so with Alastor, and his boss rarely had mercy for Overlords.

None except for Husk, apparently.

Alastor still looked oddly happy as he sauntered on stage towards his piano. “But we can’t keep the audience waiting!” His cane whisked away into the air, and as he sat down, his fingers were already tapping away at the piano keys. The notes were clear and crisp, and his foot moved against the foot pedals with knowing practice. “Time for our big number!”

There was magic in Alastor’s music, Husk had to guess. It was the only reason why he was lifting up the saxophone and actually thought about going along to melody. And Niffty, just by the sharp sounds of those piano keys, had blinked and was back to grinning again. Bolstered by Alastor’s presence, or maybe forgetting there were a bunch of people, had already picked up on what her boss wanted.

Niffty held the mic to her grinning mouth, took a deep breath—and bellowed out her verse.

“HEY BIG SPENDER!”

Husk nearly did a spit take on his own damn spit valve, but held it together to pull off a song that was not at all what Niffty was singing, not that Alastor gave a thought to it.

This was a revenge outing, and Alastor liked such outings to be messy.

Luckily, Husk was too damn drunk to care. And being drunk didn’t dampen his saxophone playing in the slightest.

“Good looking! So refined!” The spotlight wavered on good ol’ Jimmy, all as big sweat patches appeared in his suit, and half of his face was literally falling off to the floor in gross decay. “Say wouldn’t you like to know what’s going on in my mind?!”

“No,” Jimmy said immediately in a small voice.

Alastor played the piano louder and Husk was already playing catch-up to his frenetic pace. But Husk was in his element; dressed in his old suit, buzzed up by whiskey and the cigar smoke that was still settling on his tongue. Hell, he’d play a few more encores after this if that’s what Alastor wanted.

“Let me get right to the point!” Niffty emphasized her song with a flash of one of her needles, stabbing it towards the audience. A few in the front row had already scattered—and maybe Jimmy would have as well, but a suspicious gathering of shadows had rooted him to his seat, making sure he couldn’t move an inch.

“I don’t pop my cork for every bad boy I see… But I could.” Niffty giggled into the mic, looking ready to snap it to pieces with a wicked bite. She still flourished that needle with dangerous energy.

Jimmy was struggling against his binds, shaking as the singing Niffty seemed to move a bit closer—except she was still on stage, and it was Jimmy who was moving closer, aided by those tendrils that acted as his own personal, nightmarish chauffeur. He floated in the air, held up by those shadows like it was nothing.

“Alastor, I’ll pay you, alright?!” Jimmy was squealing desperately. “Just don’t let this bitch get near me.”

“Tsk, now that isn’t how you speak to a lady. What would your wife think?” Alastor’s voice was crackling, the corruption in it devolving with the static while his piano playing stayed fresh.

“I can show you a good time!” Niffty was now leaning towards Jimmy, holding up her mic as she acted as if it was a serenade. But her unhinged smile and widening eye betrayed every chaotic thought in her head. “Let me show you a good time, bad boy!!”

And if the jazz lounge emptied faster by the second, Niffty certainly didn’t mind, and Husk found himself not caring either. As long as he doesn’t mess up the few drinks left. He should have felt more pissed off that this was not the relaxing outing Alastor had originally promised, but again, there was something in Alastor’s playing, despite Niffty screaming out lyrics that he was sure his boss had never heard before.

Again, there was a magic to Alastor that he still had trouble wrapping his head around, but was drawn to each and every time.

“Hey big spendeeerrr!!” Niffty lambasted the verse so hard that the mic was looping in feedback. Jimmy was clearly suffering, being the closest to rambunctious Niffty. “Hey big spendeerrr!!” She jumped onto one of those shadows, brandishing her needle like it was a weapon—and it absolutely was for her. “Spend a little time with me!”

“No, go away!” There was a change of pitch in Jimmy’s tone, a soft glow from where his eyes should have been, but were instead only sockets. “You crazy fucking bitch!”

The piano notes were then suddenly slammed with a harsh, discordant noise. Alastor placed both hands down, standing up as he slowly turned his neck with a harsh crack. The smile on his face had stretched from ear to ear.

Just like that, Jimmy’s own little power display withered instantly.

“After such a reception to our performance, I insist you come onto my radio show!” Alastor said, elongating, fangs widening, and eyes shining with more red than should be possible. “No exceptions!”

Now, if there was a mess afterwards, the jazz lounge and all its pricey accessories smashed to bits, and Niffty laughing along with Alastor as Jimmy screamed, Husk didn’t notice.

The song he was playing was just too good to stop.

#hazbin hotel #husk #alastor #niffty #radiohusk #radio trio #radiotrioweek #radiotrioweek2024 #fanfiction #my fics

23 notes · View notes

fighting-these-demons · 7 months ago

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Royal Flush Haunted Honk - The Updated Bones!

Hello Internet Stranger looking up G Gundam on Tumblr dot com!

This is an idea for a Horror Alternate Universe involving Queer Non-Canon Relationships between the characters of the series.

It is based on the idea in the post that is linked above.

If you are not looking for this content please scroll on.

If you ARE looking for this content - and you're ok with reading my and other's Headcanons for this Alternate Universe I've haphazardly spun up -

Then go ahead and feel free to:

Check The Tags Of This Post For The Pairings

and click the Read More below!

Also the majority of the brainstorming is happening in the replies if you're so inclined.

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Behold! The Update! It's the bare bones intro and the outline! It's 2.5K! Whoops! 😅

Some of this is just straight copy and pasted from the notes and other bits have been lightly reworded or built upon to connect to other bits.

I've gotten some scenes sent to me by @thedragonchilde that I loved and I think will fit in well with what we've got so far for the fic.

If you'd like to link or reblog them please do!

@amplexadversary feel free to message me or reblog with scenes you've thought up or written up! I can't wait to read them!

I think we've set the stage pretty well to start brainstorming the horror and whump! 😃

I'll see y'all in the replies for ideas on new plot points! 🪦💥🌩

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This is backstory and general outline only.

It is barely edited. Typos abound.

The dialogue is extremely minimal and it is a framework upon which to build the fic. 💖

I am giving this explanation for the benefit of internet strangers as all parties working on this fic are already familiar.

Hello Internet strangers! 👋

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Wherever the tendrils of the Devil Gundam hovered over the earth, and subsequently were destroyed, are places that may have had DG cells distributed through the atmosphere.

Atmospheric DG plumes have lead to DG infection in those areas. There's also likely tendril debris.

Neo-Japan, since the Devil Gundam's destruction, has been working with Neo and world governments on a cure for DG infection.

At the moment the current treatment involves Kyoji or Schwarz controlling the DG cells of the individual and shutting them down; however, they are making breakthroughs with advancements on a nanocite injection that they're synthesizing with an executable program that shuts the DG cells down.

The biological compatibilities are the hurdle at the moment as evidenced in animal testing.

Kyoji and Domon are traveling to some sites in the USA that were affected by tendrils. Domon is there as a body guard since Schwarz is handling infection cases elsewhere (unspecified).

Chibodee is their escort. America is a Different Beast to Japan even in the future. So they'll need an escort to get through the militant landscape and across the sheer distance of it all.

Rain wanted to come with them, but with the volatility of the current landscape of the US - Especially where they're going - Kyoji didn't want to needlessly risk her safety.

He's assured her that Domon, Chibodee, and Chibodee's team will be watching his back.

Dr. Kasshu will be with them for the first days in New York to help with setup of the mobile lab before heading back to Neo Japan to continue working alongside Rain.

Once they've rested and are ready to head out, Domon, Chibodee, Kyoji, and The Gals will take Neo America's Core Lander and a mobile lab to the TD Site and it should be a fairly straight forward affair since they've gotten permission from the national and state governments, as well as permission from Gunsinto to be in the area.

They shouldn't be more than a few days travel to get there and retrieve samples and data and get back. He should be gone a week at the absolute most.

Kyoji gives rain the contact info to their hotel in New York as well as their sponsored Gunsinto accommodations in the Midwest and lets her know that he'll call once they've arrived palnetside.

He makes good on that promise the next day, letting Rain know that their shuttle landed, Chibodee and the girls picked them up without hassle, and lets them know that they're set to have a great dinner at a favorite restaurant of Chibodee's that evening.

Seeing Chibodee is like a breathe of fresh air that Domon didn't know he needed. Life has been so needlessly complicated lately but after Chibodee releases him from the bear hug given in greeting and throws an arm over Domon's shoulders they fall into step as if they'd never been apart.

Keeping in touch wasn't exactly easy. Domon doesn't respond quite as often as Chibidee would like, but every message Chibodee left was listened to and saved.

Ever since they got wind of this mission it's all either of them has had on their minds for days.

I need some help here with feelings and dialogue and inner thoughts but Basically

They both independently realize with clarity over the days leading up and the time in New York how much they've missed each other and how easy and comfortable it all is - being teamed up again.

Domons semi-recent revelations and feelings fresh on his mind. Chibodees crush ever looming.

Hearts racing. Feeling lighter than they have in God Knows How Long. Chibodee smiling so much his face cramps. Domon feeling so comfortable and nearly zen he loses his permanent frown from constantly thinking and just vibes. Smiling occasionally even!

Chibodee proposes they spar real quick before dinner "To work up an appetite! And C'mon! I wanna see what I'm up against in the upcoming Gundam Fight!" With a grin slamming his left fist into his open right hand. (He's left handed right? Or was that someone else?)

They Spar and there's Feelings

(I have a small scene outline put together for the spar for your consideration. @thedragonchilde has submit 2 scenes that would be great for just after the spar and are an awesome read! I'll include my outline for the spar scene in a reblog)

Then they have dinner together and later part to settle in their hotel rooms for the evening.

The next day they focus on briefing the expedition and setting up the Mobile Lab that The Gals will be in charge of transporting.

Once the lab is set up, they see Dr. Kasshu off on his shuttle back to Neo Japan that has been on standby since they arrived.

Kyoji volunteers to ride with The Gals under the excuse of getting a head start on some data processing - to give Domon and Chibodee some time alone together.

Chibodee is not about to let himself be alone in a Core Lander with Domon for HOURS. He may blurt out something he regrets. He insists that Kyoji ride with them and leave the Gals to themselves.

As they make their way out west, Chibodee starts explaining why they'll want to keep their guard up.

There's been a lot of unrest recently and especially the last 10 years since Gunsinto bought out the last of their land and displaced so many communities.

Domon asks occasional questions but Kyoji isn't saying much of anything at all. Opting to rest most of the journey. Domon seems tense, which is understandable considering the events before they left New York.

Suddenly they hear gunfire and what might be a canon of some kind.

They expected resistance outside of Gunsinto territory but they didn't expect it after they crossed the border!

Aren't the Greenlords supposed to be patrolling the area???

So they're on the run from a group that blames Domon and Kyoji for all the bullshit post DG Incident. The group is made up of various parties working together to hold Neo Japan responsible for their crimes against humanity since nothing held up in court and Neo Japan is currently in control. Plus near endless bitterness at America's loss of Super Power status for decades and the effect that that has had on their economy and natural resources put under stress from these Big Space Battles.

Chibodee and The Gals are aware of THIS group of violent individuals… but they're not aware of the OTHER group of violent individuals. (The Clown gangs are kept under wraps by the Greenlords - Gunsinto's private militia similar to to the Pinkertons as going public would be an embarrassment and an open invitation to more trespassers.)

They have a good idea of what weapons they have at their disposal and what their general tactics are.

They decide to split up and have The Gals create a distraction to lure the majority of the aggressors off before rendezvousing close to the TD Site in this region.

After they split, the core lander has some issues and breaks down in the middle of nowhere. As they break down Kyoji has an awful headache. There's a terrible signal he can feel and he knows it affected the core lander's processors but he's not sure what it is.

(It's a device that broadcasts a malicious signal that infects the processing units of hovering vehicles - was gonna be an emp but realized that would mess up their gps. It has only a very mild effect on DG cells it seems. Their GPS was made by the Kasshus with DG tech so it's unaffected. - Their communicator was issued by Gunsinto and was not so lucky - it's dead.)

Luckily for them their map data integrated into their GPS shows there should be a former town nearby.

The nearest town is seemingly abandoned. There's simply not enough water here according to Chibodee.

The only building not completely crumbled is a lone Motel. Chibodee curses his Rotten Fucking Luck. (Clown Music!)

They're exhausted from carrying their emergency supplies through the heat of the day. They're not going any further. This will have to be it. Domon is clearly tense and Chibidee seems about to jump out of his skin but Kyoji doesn't really know why. He could be over sensitive after sitting with their tension in the core lander and then walking with them through the heat.

Chibodee considers attempting to convince them to camp outside but with the wind picking up as bad as it is, he has no leg to stand on. They'll be sleeping inside.

Strange though. There's a light on. That's odd.

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Meanwhile The Gals have incapacitated the pursuers after radioing in help from the Greenlords who are cooperating on this mission.

They're of course like “Whaaaaaat? That's Crazyyyyyyyyy.” And don't breathe a word of the Other Issue inside The Fields. Instead electing to simply refuel the mobile lab and send some extra men with The Gals as escort.

The girls start back on their journey to Rendevous with the guys.

The arrive at the TD Site with no sign of the guys. After waiting 2 hours they decide to try and ping their location.

There's no result. What they assumed was poor signal is worrying them now.

As they double back in the direction the guys should have been coming from they discover the crashed Core Lander and some prints headed South West.

They check their maps of the area which indicate a former town a few miles south west. They hop in their mobile lab and head that way.

When they make it to the town, the only standing structure is a Clown Themed Motel that looks like it was pulled straight out of a historical classic horror film.

They share a look. There's no way Chibodee would be here. They decide to check for other towns and head further south. Eventually as it starts to get dark the escort advises that they head to the designated accommodations for the evening and the Greenlords will start a search.

Kyoji kept his word to Rain that he and his father would check in when they arrived in New York. When the second day stretches on with no word Rain starts to worry.

Her father has made it home, but she's still heard no word from Kyoji.

On Rain's 5th call in as many hours -at about 2:00 AM- The Gals answer.... it's Bad News.

They've been separated by a roaming militia group hellbent on serving American Justice to these Neo Japan Planet Destroyers. The Gals were supposed to Rendevous with Chibodee and the guys at the TD site but they never showed and they didn't find them on their way to the Gunsinto Accomodations either.

The Gals reassure her that the Greenlords and Gunsinto are starting a search and they should have word soon.

Dread starts to settle in the pit of Rain's stomach.

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Meanwhile The Guys walk into the Hotel expecting it to be abandoned. It certainly looks that way from the outside.

As they walk in though, they meet a rather average looking man smoking a cigar and watching some movies on a TV in the corner of the dark Lobby.

He looks surprised (he isnt) and quickly stubs out his cigar in the ash tray nearby before walking into the only light in the lobby by the front desk.

He welcomes them with a smile and asks how many guests. Letting them know that unfortunately he's only got one room available and There's Only the One Bed. He asks if that's alright.

Chibodee sputters. Shocked that there's someone here at all. He asks as much and the man says that the Hotel is a side business of the Greenlords’ for “Employee Services” if you catch his drift.

Average guy asks after them as he's never seen them before. Kyoji has a bad feeling and smooths things over by advising that they're there as horticultural graduate students studying genetic modification with their Professor and a few other students. Kyoji tells a tale of how they got separated in the fields and this was the closest area with shelter according to their map data.

The Average guy is surprised to hear that they have a functioning GPS and says that this area has bad signal. It's a blessing they can find their way.

He directs them to their room and leaves back toward the lobby.

Kyoji has a bad feeling. He can sense a ton of corrupted DG cells nearby. Somewhere underground, but isn't sure why or what it means.

He also keeps getting flashes of screaming men and women in clown costumes….

He relays as much to Domon privately as Chibodee is clearly already on edge and doesn't need any more stress.

Kyoji asks Domon if Chibodee is alright. Domon informs him that clowns and clown imagery is a problem but there's really nothing they can do about it in this situation. His fists are clenched. Domon i's pissed they have to stay here.

Kyoji takes a moment to let Domon know he'll take the floor and for Chibodee and Domon to take the bed. This throws Domon for a loop, but before he can argue Kyoji insists that out of the 3 of them he can probably take the most stress and that Chibodee looks like he needs someone to sleep next to.

Kyoji also mentions that he'll be blocking his hearing on a nano level to give them privacy in case they need to talk. Domon is a bit flustered by this but decides to take it in stride and go to Chibodee who is pacing and silently melting down. He looks like he's about to both through the window and back into the fields.

Domon puts a hand on Chibodee’s shoulder and suggests they go ahead and bunk down for the night.

He and Domon each take a seat on the end of the bed while Kyoji remains standing and they discuss Watch Rotation.

It'll probably be better to have 2 people awake and 1 person resting at any given time.

None of them trust this guy at the front desk. Especially not Kyoji.

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Not sure how to segue from bunking down to the horror bit below gracefully; but I know we need to.

I feel like it's the perfect time for Domon and Chibodee to take Kyoji up on his offer of audible privacy to have a quick heart to heart..... before it's unfortunately and terrifyingly interrupted. 😨

Mostly because I'm mean. 😂

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My first thought for 4 is that it probably looks like a normal-ass bed but in the middle of the night when both the guys are like half asleep, a clown hand bursts up from the center of the mattress in a classic zombie style Then an improbable amount slowly crawl out of that same hole as Chibodee drags Domon to the door (Domon for his credit is ready to beat a clown with another clown)

Since the FC does have the lightest touch of Newtype bullshit (mostly seen in the Schwarz/Rain chase scene where Schwarz gets the newtype flash), I'm interested in it being ghosts because the NT thing sometimes goes that way.

Ghosts usually have some kind of backstory as to why they're around, and I think it fits the setting to have a sort of clown culture war going on

so you have gangs like the one that killed Chibodee's mom, and then you get ordinary clowns going vigilante to hunt the ones that do that down for flagrant violation of the clown code

But the problem with vigilantism is you sometimes get the wrong guy, so that eventually happens and another group of clowns goes vigilante to go after the first group because they've gone bad (doesn't matter whether or not this is true for our purposes). And then you get more guys like the original circus terrorists playing themselves off as vigilantes as an excuse to kill people.

So now you have a clown gang war and more clown terrorists than you started with. And with the other problems Earth and the Colonies have it isn't *really* a big enough deal for anyone outside of the business to really care, so you get a sort of uneasy status quo with occasional bursts of clown violence.

The motel in question has a ghost problem because it's a former base of operations of a clown gang, where they would frequently dispose of their clown victims.

Chibodee is not at all aware of this. Or else he never would have agreed to this. He would have had some sort if Military backup. Gunsinto and The Greenlords have kept this under wraps to avoid broadcasting their farm territory as terrorist territory.

The clowns were affected by DG cells pre-murder and with Kyoji nearby they seem to be activating.

Yikes.

Kyoji can affect DG cells in a lof of situations... but can he affect them to his advantage here???

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Stay Tuned to Find Out!

#Royal Flush Haunted Honk AU #Haunted Honk #Domon/Chibodee #Chibodee/Domon #Kyoji/Rain/Schwarz #The Gals #domon kasshu #chibodee crocket #there's only one bed #At the Clown Motel #royal flush #Belatedly realizing I forgot the backstory about Gunsinto whoops. I'll add it later.

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