Judas Strikes: The Road to Heaven

by PistonBronze

Summary:

After centuries of endless wandering, opressed under the thumb of Adam, Judas Iscariot uses the former's death as an oppotunity to prove himself to Jesus in the first way that comes to mind: Murdering the main proprietors of sin within the Pride Ring - The Overlords.

(Rape/Non-Con only mentioned regarding Valentino. Not sure exactly HOW graphic the depictions of violence are, but I'll be safe)

Chapter 1: The Pre-word

Somewhere, in a barren part of the Pride Ring, within the confines of the remains of a building long-destroyed, a sinner kneeled, his hands clasped firmly together in prayer. He was no ordinary sinner, however. He was a sinner from before even the times of Zestial Morde, from times before having “demon bodies” was even really a thing, and everyone usually just looked like they did back on Earth. Yellow, a favourite colour of his back then, was the colour of the loose linen tunic perched atop his shoulders, contrasting with the reds and pinks of most of hell, unintentionally making sure all who saw him knew he wasn’t from this era, as did the simple brown sandals on his feet.

His appearance was rather unimportant, however, due to the gravity of what he thought being much greater. He had been here since the year 31 AD, under the thumb of Adam and the Exterminators, dodging their yearly expeditions year by year, somehow avoiding detection every time, even when things got dire. And now, with Adam dead and the first confirmed redeemed sinner in history, he had more than enough reason to believe that his idea may be worth pursuing. Whilst wandering, out of curiosity, he had stepped onto the site of the battle, and saw a slight glimmer in the distance, extremely unnatural, considering Hell’s dim light. He walked over, and saw something unnaturally bright, something emitting an almost holy presence. He retrieved the item from the rubble it was stuck in, to reveal it was a-

“HEY! YOU!”, another, rather large, musclebound sinner approached the derelict building with a spiked bat in his clutches, rudely interrupting my infodump with his grisly voice, “I’ll make it quick, hand over 200$ and it won’t get painful, capiche?”

Facing away from him, the kneeling sinner quickly did a sign of the cross and stood up, slowly turning in his robber’s direction.

“Oh, praying to God, huh?”, the robber said in a jocular tone of voice, “Ah, forget it, man, that Pentious sucker might’ve had a chance, but there are only so many spaces in the Hotel! First come, first serve, and I don’t think EITHER of us are makin’ it in time.”, he chuckled to himself quietly.

As the victim turned, he revealed his brown eyes to be striking and full of idle contempt for everything around him, now staring directly into the instigator’s soul. He lightly corrected the way his pillbox fez sat on his head and smoothed out his beard contemplatively before reaching to something that looked quite alike to a leather case, somewhere below 1 metre, but close, hanging by a strap slung over his shoulder.

“You might be, but I have other plans”, he said, quickly opening the case and pulling out something bright and metallic, bright enough to where, upon its unconcealment, it was hard to tell exactly what it was. However, as the light calmed down, it became clear to see that the object was-

“AN ANGELIC STEEL SWORD?”

Yes, an Angelic Steel sword.

“W-w-WHERE’D YOU EVEN GET THA-”, the robber asked, in shock, but his would-be victim had already bound in his direction. He attempted to use the club on his person to deflect the blow, but with a little wristwork, the fez-hatted combatant had jabbed him right in the chest.

The burly sinner felt his strength leaving him from the wound inflicted by the blessed metal. He dropped the club from his hands, leaving it to fall to the ground with a dull thump as he trembled on his legs. After a bit, one of his knees finally bent, and he collapsed onto the ground in front of his opponent, soon stone-dead.

The ancient sinner in question laid his eyes onto what he had done, but he had no regret in his eyes. After all, this was just the start of what he would do. There were much more important, much worse people here, and even though he had made the Pride Ring a little better with his actions, this was not NEARLY enough to qualify him for Heaven. In that spirit, he put the sword back into the case, which he buckled shut soon after, and ventured out, thinking only of what he promised himself in that prayer.

That he would never fail his Rabbi again.

That sinner

Was Judas Iscariot

Notes:

Welp, this is probably the ODDEST thing I've done so far. I appologise for potential bucketloads of edge, and well as potentially poor character writing of the canons. I WILL be getting proof-reads by ACTUAL Hazbin Hotel fans, and if anyone wants to help with bringing this shitshow to reality, they may contact me at "pistonbronze" on Discord!

Chapter 2: Bug Zapper - The Conquest of Lust

Summary:

Judas' first target was Valentino, the moth pimp. Thankfully, a coincidence happened to put him in just the situation to realise his plan.

Judas' first stop was a nearby urban area, mostly due to it being nearby, but also due to the density of possible residents. He wasn't that well-aquainted with nowadays' power structure, but he had heard of several powerful, especially evil sinners called "overlords", who had taken to enslaving other sinners via binding contracts. Perhaps he could make his rabbi proud by stopping them? After all, he already had the tool needed at his side, in an only minorly suspicious case, all it took was finding the suckers themselves. And the city offered a chance to do just that: after all, these people were like... celebrities, surely! Gossip about them would be spreading like wildfire, and all he had to do was listen in! He already heard a bit about them. In specific, a lot about a group of three upstarts calling themselves "The Vees", a short girl, a moth fellow, and a television pe-

Wait, who was that?

Red "robe", which was actually just his wings (pretty useless on that account, with them having arm-holes and all), with a white fluff trim, red hat with white and black feather... it was unmistakably that moth fellow! Valentino, was it? Judas never really paid attention to it, but this time, it was of the essence if he was to deal with him. From the small cranny between two buildings, he saw the robed figure entering a club, the sign signifying the name "Unsafe, insane and non-consentual" hanging above the door. Not really subtle, huh? Judas slowly made his way out of the alley, stepping out into the wider street, crowded as all hell (pun extremely intended).

Judas hadn't yet experienced exactly how overwhelming the Pride Ring's cities were, as he had mostly been wandering around locations of lesser size in that time. Vox had the power to control the screens and ads, and made them all as addictive as possible in the first place... or so he had heard. Sound was coming from everywhere at the same time, almost in an effort to besiege the atoner's mind and distract him from his mission, but his resolve was stronger than to allow it. He, without hesitation, marched forth, and made his way into "Unsafe, insane and non-consentual".

The inside was just as sketchy as the name. It generally looked like a pretty unrespectable place, almost intentionally unmaintained and partially broken, looking like someone could, upon one wrong step, break one of the boards of the floor and fall down into the Wrath Ring through the resulting gap. From one of the doors located at the far side of the establishment, presumably leading to rooms designated for "private business", a scream was extremely easy to hear, certainly giving the impression the club was living up to its name. Contrasting with the bloodcurdling wailing of the victim was the light commotion in the rest of the building, including Valentino himself, who was currently sitting at the bar, sipping something, probably nothing too complex, considering the grade of this place.

Judas felt hesitant at first. After all, what the hell kind of place was this? And... what might Valentino do to him? But he remembered, that taking the first step for God is always the hardest part, and, more importantly, that he has a sword and the element of surprise on his side. Valentino's not known to be able to control his impulses well. He'll probably overlook the case and just try to get with him.

Hoping not to be noticed and just survey his target a bit, Judas sat down at the bar rather quietly, perching the case containing his sword on it, at his right side, the one opposite to the one Valentino was at, only leaving one empty stool between him and the moth demon.

"Oy! Need anythin'?", said the female sinner acting as the bartender, somewhat irritated, yet dutiful-sounding. She wasn't exactly the most attractive, being quite stout and a bit old-looking, with the beak and wing-hands of a bird, but she looked dependable.

"Just... a glass of whiskey for now, if that's not a problem", Judas said, with a content, if somewhat melancholic expression, trying to act amicably. This little crusade of his didn't mean he'd have to be brooding and rude to everyone, after all!

"No' at all", the bartender responded with a sort of half-smile, as she poured the glass and handed it to the visitor, who promptly handed over the Souls (the currency, mind you) in exchange

"Thank you", Judas said, nodding respectfully, and began to sip from the glass, sneaking glances at Valentino, analysing what he might be doing at a given moment. He began to notice something... a bit concerning... in between sips of his drink (it looked to be something rather delicate, that effeminate bastard), he seemed to be... glancing back? It was uncertain, but his expression looked to be quite lecherous, filling the crusader with a sense of dread

Helpfully, any semblance of uncertainty was utterly shattered when these words rung out from the porn director's gob:

"Hey... you look... kinda exotic, haha..."

Well, shit. Looks like the crusader was balls deep now, no more time for hesitation. Though he was partially offended at the "exotic" comment, he decided to follow along, for the sake of his Rabbi.

"Heh, thanks", Judas attempted to sound casual and, although he failed miserably, the moth man's drink seemed to have clouded his judgement

"I've like... never actually fucked anyone as masculine as you... part of the reason why I came here, really… got bored of my own porn stars, ahaha. Say… you wanna... take this to one of the rooms...?", he responded with a partial slur

“Sure…”, we once again see a failure by Judas to throw off his usual seriousness, but it seemed Valentino didn’t care quite nearly enough.

“Well… let’s not waste any more time, shall we?”, he responded, grabbing Judas rather forcefully and pulling him towards the doors to the private rooms. Thankfully, the crusader managed to grab the case holding his weapon before he was pulled out of reach. As he was pulled away, the bartender looked at the almost-not-even-started (he needed to be sober for this, after all) glass of whiskey and, after looking around for any witnesses, downed it in one prolonged drink.

As the door of the middle room of the three was forcefully opened by the moth overlord, it was… quite the contrast from the rest of the club: well-maintained, furnished satisfactorily… some would even call it aesthetically pleasing! From the night-and-day contrast, it was obvious that these were the club’s main selling points. Valentino walked further in, pulling the case-clutching, semi-willing Judas into the room. The latter was beginning to wonder what exactly he signed up for, with this seeming rather forceful, but he assured himself that God woud give him enough strength to last through it all.

“Y’know what, big guy? I’m gonna let you in specific have a little treat here…” he said, rather seductively, though still with a slur. Judas appeared not to be amused, although his concern was escalating rapidly, and instead of reacting particularly strongly perched his weapon holder next to the door, closed.

“Been a while since I’ve had someone top me, so…”, suddenly, the door flung itself closed and the distinct clicking of lock was heard as a key manifested itself into Valentino’s hand, which he showed off quite readily with his , to his “partner” for the night’s clear shock.

“You’re going to stay in here and have fun with me until I've had enough, understand?”

Judas was, quite reasonably, dumbfounded at this development, looking away in the door’s direction, utterly flabbergasted. How could this guy be so open about wanting to… well.. Basically rape him? It filled him with complete disgust over this morally spineless individual, and over what he might do to him if things don't do to plan. Scenes of bloody assault, both the sexual and normal kind, flashed through his head as he struggled to not panic and attempt to bail out, maybe even go with the moth man's wishes? It was a struggle, but aventually he composed himself and returned to an allured (or was it neutral?) enough expression. A major component in which was one thing: he realised that a plan was already presenting itself with his position in this agreement. He won't take the coward's approach any longer, he's done that enough back on Earth, and he promised himself, no, his Teacher, that this would be a time of redemption for him.

“Ah, whatever, not like I care anyways, hahahaha!”, Valentino continued without an answer, hiding the key in his wing-robe before leaping over to the bed and summoning four pairs of handcuffs to bind his arms to the frame, unfolding said “robe” at the same time. The view of his moth dick was… less than impressive, at least to someone who was completely uninterested and merely using this as a chance to execute justice.

“Ready when you are!” Valentino exclaimed, turning his head to the side and closing his eyes, readying himself to what he expected to be the usual - a moment of pleasure, lasting short and fulfilling nothing in particular. But this was to be, in fact, one of his final moments, and it was going to be filled with anything but pleasure.

And Judas was more than ready.

As soon as the moth shut his eyes, Judas dropped all pretence of allurement and quickly, yet quietly enough, moved to the sword case, which was perched up against the wall. He carefully opened it, so as to not make much sound, and waited until he could see the bright-shining sword clearly. There's no going back now, either he ends this despicable soul, or it ends him. He carefully grasped it by the hilt, moving slowly, so as to not pull Valentino away from his imagination’s work. His sick, sick imagination's work. This is the thing humanity's gone to. This... was unacceptable. Rabbi would much rather see this degenerate wiped even from the afterlife. He's a man proud of his sin, there is nothing about him that warrants his soul still existing. It'll all be for the best.

Judas had reached the foot of the bed, and began moving up the left side, slowly rotating the sword into reverse grip and raising it above his head, looking into the mothman’s eyes with sheer contempt as he crept forward slowly, ready to plunge the sword into him at the first possible moment. This is it, the first cobblestone on his path to Heaven about to be laid down, the first coin he was to repay his Rabbi with, as soon as he opens his eyes, it's time.

“What’s TAKING so long? Jeez, if you’re gonna keep going at that speed, I think I might have to top after a-”, Valentino opened and raised his eyes in annoyance, seeing the blade of the heavenly sword raised above his head. A certain fear, long unknown by him, shot onto his face in response, but this moment of shock was enough for Judas to strike. Valentino saw the blade fall from above, thrust downward by his attacker’s hand, right into his moth throat, causing him a sharp pain unlike anything he had ever felt, almost as if he was being eaten alive from the inside by acid

He attempted to scream for help, but nothing could come through his throat. That was, at least, until Judas pulled the blade out, at which point a small stream of purple fluid began spurting out of his punctured neck, staining the sheets and the fur trim of his own wings, and his suffocating silence from before was replaced by the sounds of choking on his own blood, accompanied by him thrashing his head to the sides and kicking his legs, being unable to cancel the magic he had executed in the first place due to the angelic aura of the weapon. His sunglasses were thrown off in the panic, revealing pupils shrunken in fear.

“YOU... YOU BASTARD!”, Judas shouted at him while looming over him, pointing at him, with an insane rage in his eyes. “THE WAY YOU JUST… TREAT THIS AS IF IT’S NOTHING! YOU ARE AN AFFRONT TO EVERYTHING THAT HAS EVER BEEN CREATED!”

Valentino looked on in fear as the sinner he had tried to violate berated him unrelentingly. His thrashing and kicking stopped. Suddenly, he realised that the other two rooms were occupied, both with unconsentual pairs. Even if he were to scream, even if Judas’ rant could be heard, nobody would pay mind to it. He was without hope. Tears escaped from his eyes as he realised he was soon to discover if there was, indeed, as his long-time employee and victim had once joked, a double-hell.

”I had promised something to my Rabbi a bit ago…”, Judas continued. “I may have failed him once…”, he said, lifting the sword in normal grip above his head with his right hand, “...BUT I WON’T FAIL HIM AGAIN!”, he shouted, swinging the blade with full force at Valentino’s neck.

The sword cut through the neck almost as if a hot knife through butter, with enough impact to send the moth cranium flying across the room, knocking the hat off of it in the process, before it smacked into the wall, falling to the ground. It rolled on the ground slightly, revealing Valentino’s face to the crusader, frozen permanently in a look of horror as the last few tears rolled down his cheeks.

Judas breathed heavily. He thought about what he had just done; Despite all the horrible things he heard about Valentino, all the porn-directing, casual sex and sexual assault, the sheer fear he felt emanating from him as he cut him down made him think about himself for a bit. Was this really the answer? Did he have to do this to prove to his Rabbi that he is worthy? But… of course, it must be! After all, what other way is there? He’d heard of the Hotel, but that surely wouldn’t work. After all, how do you work off leading to the death of the Son of God enough with something as passive as that? His proof had to be drastic, sudden… impressive.

He composed himself, now sure of the righteousness of his actions. He noticed how bloody the blade of his sword had gotten. Angelic steel doesn’t rust or wear too much, but stains like this were just unsightly. He grabbed Valentino’s right wing and wiped the blood the weapon had accrued off, staining the brilliant, luxurious red with a darker stain, before beginning to look in a pocket on the inside of it. In it, he found the magicked-up key to the room, as well as… an actual keyring? Indeed, one decorated with a keychain with a heart on it, with white text reading “pussy magnet”, full of all the keys Valentino would need for his day-to-day life, all helpfully labelled. Judas clutched the keyring in his left hand as he walked over to the case, put his sword back in, closed it and swung the strap over his shoulder. He then went back for the room key and opened the door.

Upon seeing the rest of the establishment once more, he quickly tossed the key to the room back inside, closed the door and left without saying or doing too much to anyone, perhaps maybe apart from tossing a few $ouls (for clarity with the currency) into a tip jar on the bar counter. The bartender was just doing anything to get by, he supposed. However, he had bigger plans for this night.

Although astronomical night doesn’t technically exist in Hell, the Sinners present within the Pride ring have mostly inherited their sleep schedule from back on Earth, and usually have to take a rest at a certain time. This time formed the “night” of Hell, which mostly serves as a good moment to strike for all the more… controversial (to the victims, at least) activities of the Sinners.

And for Judas, a good moment to strike it was. V Tower, a building visible from far away in the city, was practically empty, especially so because most of the guards of Valentino's portion, seeing that the owner had not come back yet, decided to take a night off. Judas was free to just walk in and waltz into the lobby, before heading for the studios, unlocking the door with a keycard. Walking past the empty sets, he did his best to avoid being identified via surveillance camera, as those were installed all over the walls. Aventually, he found his way to the luxuriously decorated door of Valentino's penthouse. He used one of the keys on the keyring to unlock the door before pushing it open gently, revealing what appeared to be a rather normal, if pompous and reeking of conspicous consumption, room. That illusion lasted until he went inside and looked at the circular table in the middle of the room.

On the table, he saw something truly horrid, a picture of the moth straight-up raping a fluffy… thing? He wasn’t quite sure of its species, although he seemed to be a popular "star" of his "films", but it once and for all confirmed his thoughts about the moth; That sick bastard. He spat on the photo, and then began looking around for anything that might be otherwise useful, apart from his main goal. Valentino’s phone was one (I suppose going into shady clubs while associating with a technomancer makes you leave your phone behind like that), laying on the table, but everything else he found in the nooks and crannies of the room just seemed to be more debauchery. Who in the fresh hell needs this many dildoes?

Finally, however, in a drawer below the TV, a rather large one, was located, among other things, a black briefcase, unusually professional for the… erm… standards set by the other items he had found. Judas opened the briefcase, finding exactly what he was hoping for: stacks upon stacks of notarialised soul contracts, looking almost ready to compress themselves into a solid brick of paperwork. He himself had some difficulty believing this many would be here. If this is one of the upstarts, then what the hell would the more major ones’ collections look like? However, this was, for the moment, unimportant. He grabbed the briefcase, the phone and the keyring and sped out of the building to realise what he wanted to do with the contracts.

Outside, he already had a plan formed in his mind. He quickly found an abandoned building’s ruins, full of loose parts, both wooden and brick. With the latter, he built an altar to the LORD, and with the latter, upon the altar he built a small bonfire. Opening the briefcase, he retrieved a few contracts and put them on the wooden planks. Finally, he pulled a lighter out of a pocket he had sewn onto his tunic quite a long time ago, a lighter he had bought not long after he found the sword, and, setting his sword’s case a safe distance away, lit the contracts on the altar. He spent the next few minutes throwing contracts into the fire, watching as they blackened in the flame of God, with each one burnt one more soul free. When he had ran out of contracts to burn, he kneeled before the altar and prayed to his Rabbi. This was a great accomplishment, sure, one he could certainly be proud of…

But it was only the start of his journey.

Notes:

Holy hell, this series feels like destroying the shit out of Vivzie's universe with a big giant spatula, and I'm loving every second of it! As always, the discord adress is "pistonbronze", if you want contact... stay tuned for the next chapter! It's gonna be a bit... interesting!

Chapter 3: Intermission 1: Everybody Hates Valentino

Summary:

A break from the action at the hotel as the Hazbins get a scoop of what's happened with Valentino.

But now, it's time for a little change of scenery

It was quite a regular day in Charlie's hotel. Charlie herself was in her own room, probably trying to summon a beatboxer from Earth again, as the others sometimes joked, to her confusion. Alastor was probably out there, hunting for victims of his cheap shock humour, and Angel Dust and Husk were watching TV, one which was mounted on one of the walls of the bar, which was usually off during hours, due to the overall low population of the hotel. Specifically, it was one of those brain-draining reality shows that Hell's television channels were full of, mostly out of morbid curiosity at Vox's antics and sheer boredom than actual interest, however.

Blue Boom had just hooked up with Wanyudo, despite Major Schroner agreeing to keep their relationship closed (a very rare thing in hell, a sign of their close relationship) and him telling her specifically not to trust him, and they were now having REALLY rough sex in the former's room.

Suddenly, Major Schroner came into the room. "WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING HERE?", he exclaimed

Before the camera had a chance to show the result of the two's lovemaking session, the signal was cut, and instead, a BREAKING NEWS intro from Katie Killjoy's news show was played.

"Don't worry, Schroner, I have that reaction every time I see her onscreen too-", Husk dryly said, before being shushed by Angel Dust

"Shhh! It's probably gonna be something important or at least interesting, considering they interrupted the program.", he said, as the faces of Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench appeared from behind the disappearing intro.

"Breaking News", Katie began to announce, less-than-professionally in tone, "Overlord and porn director Valentino has been found dead in "Unsafe, insane and non-consentual", a club and, or bar and, or whatever the hell it was focused primarily on allowing the patrons to live out their fantasies of, as the name implies, non-consentual sex.".

Angel Dust's jaw dropped at the news and Husk, while not attempting to catch flies in his mouth unlike the spider, was still visibly surprised.

"Wounds indicate that the murder was done with a weapon made of angelic steel, so it's safe to say that he won't be coming back.", Katie said sardonically, with a sadistic grin on her face.

"Well, at least it was only Valentino!", Tom chimed in, before looking to the camera for a bit, visibly proud of his joke.

"Indeed he was, Tom.", Killjoy responded, seeming quite satisfied. However, this did not stop her from teasing him over something that was, by that time, quite old: "Must be sad that you won't be able to watch your favourite little Angel Dust work it onscreen anymore though, huuuuuh~?"

"Oh, shu-", Tom quickly stopped the words before they came out of his gas mask filter, aiming to protect himself from the wrath of Katie's coffee cup this time. "Besides, on second thought, it's probably better for Angel Dust for him to be dead...", Tom concernedly looked into the camera, as if waiting for someone to confirm and assure him being in the right on this.

"Wow... never thought of you as this much of a moraliser, Tom! Warms my heart, honestly...", Katie responded, faking a pang of emotion inside her dark, dark heart. "AAaand your crotch too, I'm imagining!", she said, much more in her usual sarcastic way, before "absentmindedly" striking the coffee cup on the desk to the side as she oriented herself back to the camera. The cup proceeded to fly over the edge of the desk and empty its piping hot contents right onto Trench's testicles.

"WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIIIIIIIIIIISSSS?", Tom screamed, writhing and clutching his testes in pain, looking almost about to cry, like a little bitch.

"Back to regularly scheduled programming!", Katie announced to the camera cheerfully, paying no mind to the Pain Olympics discipline training happening right next to her.

Angel Dust’s mouth was still wide open in shock, blinking as if to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Husk, meanwhile, was staring at Angel Dust, somewhat concerned.

”Are you… okay? I just wanna make sure you’re not like… having an aneurysm or anythin-”, suddenly, Angel Dust grabbed Husk by the shoulders, shaking him around ecstatically, much to his surprise, with an expression on his face almost as if he was about to have a heart attack.

“VALENTINO’S DEAD! THAT FUCKER’S GONE! I’M FREEEEEEEE!”, he screamed in joy, squeezing Husk to his chest as he shouted the last exclamation, loud enough for surely the hotel, if not all of Hell, to hear him.

”What’s… going on down here?”, Charlie asked, having portaled into the bar after having heard the commotion, still dressed rather formally (outside of sleeping, she probably wouldn’t leave the white dress shirt and suspenders behind if her life depended on it).

”Valentino’s dead, Charlie! Killed with an angelic weapon, HE’S GONE!”, Angel Dust exclaimed ecstatically, with the widest smile Charlie had ever seen on his face, almost enough to fit a whole above-average watermelon (please do not visualise that).

Charlie looked surprised. Not negatively, not positively, just… surprised.

“Well… it feels rude celebrating someone’s death like this, but…”

”It’s Valentino, come on.”, Vaggie interrupted, having shown up to the scene as well, as Angel Dust and Husk were getting celebratory drinks. “He COMPLETELY had it coming”.

”Yeah, exactly…”, Charlie responded, contented by the fact she didn’t have to say it herself.

Suddenly, she had a realisation.

”Wait… how did the killer get an Angelic Steel weapon?”

The bar collectively stood up straight in shock. Angel dropped his drink, though Husk thankfully managed to catch it before the glass shattered against the floor. The vagina woman looked around panickedly with her good eye.

”Carmilla usually keeps this stuff under watch, and if it was someone high-profile, they surely would’ve identified them… hell, they’d probably LOVE to be known as <The guy who killed Valentino>!”

Charlie paced to and fro around the bar, thinking about what could’ve lead to this.

”WAIT!”, she loudly exclaimed, making the whole bar stand up straight again, this time without any drink dropping. “THE FIGHT WITH ADAM! SOME WEAPONS GOT LEFT BEHIND, AND… and… and…”, her voice progressively got weaker after each “and”, probably busy putting the blame on herself.

Thankfully for her self-esteem, Alastor had recently gotten back from one of his trips out, and, having heard the breakdown from the waiting room, probably in part due to his radiocane making things a bit clearer, and appeared suddenly to add his own 2 cents.

”Ah, come on! It’s natural that Overlords just die off sometimes! And if it were to BE a possible serial killer on the run, I’m sure the problem will resolve itself! After all, after this sort of news, Carmilla’s got to have mobilised her guard and daughters, right?”, he explained, rather chipperly. “Not that she cares too much about the latter anyway.”, he added, in a loud whisper. He was quite confident about what he was saying. After all, this was the guy who had, in his history, been through quite a few overlord cycles… they seemed to be quite short. And, as always, anybody could’ve done Valentino in… mostly because nobody liked him. It’s very possible it was just a one-off case born of sheer contempt for the degenerate bastard..

Suddenly, Niffty came into the room, wielding a bottle of champagne

”HEY! I heard Valentino’s dead!”, she shouted as she unleashed the cork on the champagne completely. The cork rocketed outwards and right into Husk’s forehead, causing him to fall over like a sack of potatoes, and the spray of champagne hit Angel Dust mercilessly. “WAIT, SHIT!”, she quickly realised what she’d done with the spray of liquid, and quickly rushed to get the mop.

Finding the scene quite humorous, Charlie chuckled as Vaggie stared at the cleaner with an unimpressed expression.

”Well… I suppose it’s probably only Valentino…”, she said in a humorous tone of voice, before coming over to Husk and Angel to make sure they’re alright.

Chapter 4: A Look To Kill For - The Conquest Of Envy

Summary:

Judas exploits something he gained previously to take down his second target: Velvette, along with the revelation of a new function of the sword he possesses.

Chapter 4

The next day had come.

The fire which Judas had used to free the souls of Valentino’s underlings had long died out, and its starter was still on his knees, praying. Both to thank his LORD for the help he’s given him in his crusade…

But also to ask for more.

After stepping into Valentino’s penthouse, he spotted the phone of the mothman plainly on the table. Since he and the other two “Vees”, as they were called, lived and worked in one building, it’s only natural he’d have them in his contacts. While he’d heard that one of them, the monitor-head, could manipulate electronics, there was nothing suggesting the other one could. Breaking into it and giving her a text about him supposedly having “faked his own death” by using magic could be enough to lure her out far enough to kill her. While he wasn’t the most familiar with personal electronics, he had seen enough of their use passively, and, after all, everything is designed to be intuitive, right? He would probably have few problems with it.

There was only one way to find out.

He took the phone from beside the wall he had placed it near and pressed the power button. It was nearly fully charged. Good. He swiped upwards, as it had directed him to, to unlock it.

”Enter passcode”

”Damn it. Thankfully it’s only 4 numbers”, he thought, as he input “1478” with the numpad onscreen.

Nope.

He tried again, getting the slightest bit annoyed. He’d probably be here all day if “1236” doesn’t wor-

Nope.

Alright, third time’s the charm, and this time, he had a good idea: “6969”. Well, there was a slim chance of it actually working, but perhaps it was within Valentino’s wheelhouse? Judas winced, unconfident in his last resort guess that was immature at bes-

It worked.

Judas was equal parts relieved and astounded, but that mattered not, for he had opened the gates to his second target. He quickly navigated to the contacts, wincing at the pornographic internet artwork set as the wallpaper, and found the probable person of interest at the top of the list, “Velvette”, with all sorts of fancy font and bells and whistles he didn’t exactly understand the point of. Ignoring the superficial details and digging into the message log, he quickly took a glance at the style in which they were written.

Rather casual, rather crude, rather contrasting with how he would write, for sure, but the subject of the message itself could help mask that he was pretending to be someone who he wasn’t. After all, who writes about faking their own death casually? He also noticed that messages were usually pretty brief, so he made sure to take that into account as well. And in that moment, he pressed the text field, put his thumbs on the keypad, and began writing, making sure to split his intended message up into parts.

Once he had finished sending everything, he set the phone down and walked over to his sword case. He opened it and grabbed the hilt of his weapon, feeling the aura of the steel… perhaps… a bit stronger than before? Did it get more powerful as a result of Valentino’s murder? “Even better then”, Judas thought, as he looked upon it before sealing the case. All that was left to do was await an answer from Velvette.

Velvette stood in front of the models lined up in front of her, unimpressed as ever. Sure, the models were just as stick-figure thin as expected, the fabrics were, strangely, not stained with any suspiciously red liquids (or worse, the alternative), but… the tailors screwed up again, majorly. Well… at least by Velvette’s standards, and those were quite tight. A centimetre off here, a slightly skewed edge there, and that was all it took for Velvette to declare it a- “COMPLETE SHITSHOW!”, she exacerbatedly shouted, her hands curling into fists at this violation of her unreasonably high standards. “I swear, if only Valentino decided to tear apart a few of my tailors instead of my best model. Well… not like I can ask him to make up for it now… considering he’s… well…”, she hesitated for a second, as if the news of his death caused her some kind of… sadness, “HE’S DEAD, ALRIGHT?”.

Velvette looked genuinely upset, quite strangely. After all, she was mostly following Valentino’s actions for fun… at least that’s what she said.

Before anyone had a longer chance to think about what she might’ve thought about

Valentino, her phone vibrated in her right trouser pocket, visibly surprising her. She swiftly reached in and pulled it out, having “practised” this quite a bit. She switched it on and saw a notification from… Valentino!?

This was absurd. Probably some kind of sick joke, from Vox or otherwise. “Might as well see what it’s about”, she thought, as she unlocked the phone and navigated to messages:

”Hey velvs”

”So basically”

”I faked my own death lol”

”All the shit on tvs just an illusion. It’ll disappear in just a bit”

”I need to talk to you. Meet me in the pentcit abandoned west? I gotta make sure nobody sees me”

Velvette was just about to dismiss the whole thing as a buffoonish prank, but then, she began to wonder: “What if it is Valentino?”. After all, he seemed to write his messages… generally in the same way as he did befor- as the old user of the phone, she meant. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to check? At worst, she’d probably just find nothing and look like an idiot. If there was someone there, though, one couldn’t be sure as to their motives, so perhaps some extra precautions would be welcome

Velvette texted back:

”Sure”

”Be there in a few mins”

”Alright, girls, guys, whatever-the-fucks, you’re free to go for now!”, she announced, somewhere between annoyance and boredom in tone, to the models. “I have to go deal with something outside… I’ll deal with those tailors later!”

She walked out of the room and walked down the connected, quite poshly decorated hallway, with the situation at hand on her mind. It certainly wasn’t impossible that Valentino would’ve faked his death, but he was usually quite open about his misdeeds. Did something happen, perhaps? “It’ll all clear up when I meet him… if I meet him, that is.”, she assured herself, before stopping at a door at the side of the hall, banging on it with vigour.

”HOOKER, BLOW, COME OUT HERE, I NEED YOU WITH ME TO SORT SOMETHING OUT!”

In a moment, the door opened to reveal two burly, tough yet sharply dressed fish-sinners, a pike and a pufferfish. On their chests, clothing of their master's own design; and in their hands, perfectly detailed bludgeons. Their names weren’t Hooker and Blow, but that was all Velvette called them, so it made no difference. She directed them with a gesture to follow her and headed down the hall further. Now flanked by her guards, she drifted further down the hall, in the exit’s direction, determined to see if what had been reported to her was true.

Not too long after, after a short ride in one of her “backup cars”, which was entirely silent after Velvette’s explicit command to the chauffeur to “shut up and drive to west PentCit”, she was on the site with Hooker and Blow, walking through the street, looking to each side in search of Valentino. While she was expecting it to only be a lame joke, there held out a last glimmer of hope inside her. A glimmer of hope that her frie- long-time partner, she meant, was still alive. A close partner, someone she could confide in, laugh with, perhaps someone who had lent her a hand quite a few times, yes, but… a friend? No, it couldn’t be. Overlords can’t have friends, only partners. The Vees were close, but she couldn’t let emotional attachment get in the way of gain.

No matter how hard that may be.

Judas stood in an alleyway, trying his best to make himself not look visible, watching Velvette walk forward, with her arms behind her back, almost… solemn, as if this was causing her despair. He was quick to notice the two bodyguards right behind her, which would certainly make things a bit harder, but it’s nothing he couldn’t handle. As he stood there, he almost felt… saddened. Saddened by the fact that, if she had come here even with suspicion, then there must’ve not been quite as little attachment in their partnership as everyone expected. He almost thought to lay his plans down and walk away, just to let the petite overlord deal with the loss of what appeared to be a, strangely for someone of her rank, a close friend, but he quickly suppressed that idea. After all, this was what God wanted, right? And he promised not to disappoint God ever again. Not after what happened back on Earth. It was time to do some good for the world.

As he saw Velvette turn in a building’s direction, he quickly rushed to the backdoor, opening it swiftly and diving inside, trying to not make TOO much noise. He steadied himself against a wall next to the front door, quickly grasping his sword after retrieving it from its case. Clutching it tightly, ready to strike, he felt a knock on the door. As he got into the position to pounce, the door opened, with the tiny fashion designer right behind it.

Judas jumped in front, hands clasped around his sword, raised and ready to deliver a fatal downwards strike. Velvette’s face grew shocked as she recoiled backwards slightly, her bodyguards grasping their maces with both hands, as they are intended to be wielded, but it was too late, Judas was already in position.

SLASH

...

Nothing happened.

The sword was lowered to the ground, as if a slash had taken place, but… it appeared to have missed. Nothing was damaged, hell, Judas didn’t even feel the sword going downwards, it was just… in one place in one moment, and in the other the other. What just happened? Hooker and Blow let go of the weapons with one of their hands.

”Oh… I see.”, Velvette commented, unamused at the apparently failed attack. “Oh, and by the way, you missed, bitch.”, she stated much more sardonically, before taking a step forward and pointing her finger at Judas with a sadistic look on her face, as if she was about to direct her goons to attack him. However, she felt something… off. A not-normal feeling, combined with a slight pain, located on her stomach area. She looked down to see what it was, and, in an instant, her face froze in a look of sincere, unsarcastic horror as she staggered back.

There was a large vertical slit in her torso, running straight along the front, almost as if made by a scalpel and not a sword. However, what was truly horrifying was what protruded through it. Not only was bright pink blood calmly leaking out of the laceration, but, after she had taken a step forward, her small intestine had spilled out, now unfurled, laying on the ground, apparently having been penetrated a bit itself, as it was leaking blood as well, staining the ground with pink liquid.

Blood rushed to her mouth as well, spilling out of the corners, dripping from her open lips as she struggled to comprehend what had transpired.

As she staggered back, she coughed out bursts of blood, loudly struggling against the flow of liquid in her throat, covering the ground in droplets of pink, before, just before she had completely exited the building, letting out a horrified scream to her bodyguards, who had so far been watching, almost equally as horrified as she was.

”GET HIM!”, she screeched, before losing any semblance of consciousness and collapsing forwards, likely equally out of shock as out of sustained injuries. The guards readied their weapons once more.

Judas was visibly shocked, staring at his hands, at his sword, like they were completely alien things. How did he just… do that? He cleaved apart Velvette’s stomach faster than he could even register! Was it the result of that… power-up he felt earlier?

Before he could contemplate any more, the two guards broke the wall at the sides of the door with their maces, completely synchronised, and fitted themselves in, forcing the fez-hatted sinner to step back

Blow surged forth, slightly puffing up, mace held in both hands. He got into range of Judas, who was currently up against the opposite wall, and swung at him from his left. Judas, to avoid having his spine snapped in half with a giant piece of wrought red metal, dodged to his left, ending up in the corner of the room.

Just as the momentum of the club ground to a halt, creating a crack on the wall from the lessened impact, Blow prepared another swing, this time overhead. At the same time, Hooker dashed to his left, intending to cover the blindspot and slam their master’s killer into the dirt, similarly preparing his bludgeon. Judas felt all was lost, but then… he felt a risky idea pop into his mind. One that depended on his sword not failing him, primarily, more than on his own dexterity. Well, it was now or never, after all.

He looked back over to the pufferfish sinner, who’s mace was now at an apex above his head. Judas dodged to his own right, avoiding the slam, which had managed to carve a sizable hole into the low ceiling and wall he was standing next to, and, seeing the pike guard about to do the same, this time fatally for him, his idea could come into play.

The moment he could, he bound in Hooker’s direction, just as he was about to bring the hammer down on him while looking upwards with sadistic glee, sword clutched at neck height with both hands, with eyes closed, and executed his plan:

SLASH

Hooker’s chopped-up innards burst forth from his stomach in a gorey display, accompanied by what looked to be about a bucketful of blood, all at once. Judas opened his eyes to find himself behind and slightly to the side of his filleted victim, his sword in a position, again, like a slash had occurred, even though there had been no memory of it.

He breathed heavily for a second, trying to wrap his head around how exactly he could… do that. Slash people into bits without even registering it, is what was meant. Would Velvette’s death grant him something like this as well? Was it directly related to Valentino in particular in some way? Did it have any limitations? Those are all the questions he could ask himself before turning around and seeing a particularly puffed-up bodyguard towering above him, mace about to crash right into his left rib cage.

He jumped to the right, quickly reeling back and avoiding the diagonal swing of the pufferfish’s mace, before swinging at his side. He shut his eyes…

But heard only a metallic clang in place of the usual slashing noise, he opened his eyes: the guard had blocked it with his mace, on his face an expression of rage and determined defiance. Judas repositioned his arm, surprised, before the opponent had a chance to attack and aimed for the top of the head with a slash; Surprisingly swiftly, it was blocked, but this gave him the perfect opportunity. Quickly, he thrust his hand back and plunged the sword into the guard’s now-exposed, puffed-up face. A brief deflating noise was heard as the victim’s expression shifted from determination to surprise and, eventually, defeat and death. Judas dropped the sword from his hand, allowing the corpse of the bodyguard to fall to the floor fully. It seems like the ability he had suddenly gained only worked when the opponent wasn’t looking.

He retrieved his sword and walked past the corpses of the two guards, and to the person he had meant to target in the first place: Velvette. She hadn’t shown a single sign of consciousness ever since she collapsed at the beginning, and the puddle of bright pink liquid on the ground didn’t prophesize anything good for her health.

Judas got on one knee and placed his hand on her neck, trying to feel a pulse, though, because of the unreliable factor of a sinner having to have a pulse in order for that to work, it was mostly to feel the temperature of the body.

It was already cold.

At the cold touch of Velvette’s body, he felt a pang of guilt, almost strong enough to make him fall over backwards. The recent, yet still poignant memory of seeing her so solemnly walk along, probably trying to come to terms with the fact that her close friend is dead, haunted him. This wasn’t just some fight against evil - he had driven someone to despair and then exploited that despair to kill them! That… can’t be okay, can it?

Well, they weren’t good people, for sure, right? They’ve lied, stolen, probably killed. They were overlords, after all! You never hear of someone with even a shred of honor becoming an overlord, right? Right! Yeah! They probably deserved this after all they’ve done to their underlings! “And after all, this is all for God, all for the greater good. If someone has to suffer, then I suppose they’ll have to suffer”, Judas rationalised to himself, thinking of the good he’s doing, as he searched the corpse for any valuable possessions. He soon found her wallet, as expensive as anything else she’d put on or near herself, and key to her part of the Tower, among some other trinkets. He quickly wiped the sword off on one of the guards’ suits, put it back in its case and left the scene with Velvette’s valuables, lest anyone catch him, or worse, lest he doubt God’s judgement again.

And with said valuables he rushed back to the ruined building he had previously baited her from.Really, it was quite a bit less than a building. It may have been one at some point in time, but it clearly was way past the time where Pentagram City reached into the area, coincidentally making up the centre of the “pentagram” the city formed. What was left of said building, however, were a few brick corners, with two not-even-hip-height walls connecting three of them together, with wooden and brick fragments scattered rather generously spectacularilly bloody fucking everywhere, positioned virtually in the middle of nowhere. It made a rather place to rest between these excursions, you could say. He quickly set down the key next to its Valentino-owned counterpart before averting his eyes, so as to not think about the situation too much, and planning out what he would do next, although, truthfully speaking, it was mostly just him trying to chase away his doubtful thoughts, his mental images of Velvette losing someone she was attached to and cared about. Crying, internal suffering, bleeding, all blended together. Even though he only saw Velvette express the latter, he managed to fill in the blanks. He concentrated, and did his best to dispel these thoughts without making any noise and alerting someone.

He thought of things he could do to take his mind off the matter. There was nothing to go out and get, since his Rabbi had blessed him with the ability to survive without food or drink (as related in, as it was classified, John 6:35), which, probably because of his determination to redeem himself, was not revoked upon his entrance into hell.

He reached for Valentino’s phone. Perhaps he could see what kind of life the porno magnate lead digitally. He unlocked the phone and was once more thunderstruck by the image used as the wallpaper. He quickly navigated to the settings in panic and changed it to something at least a bit more… tasteful. The thing he found was good enough: some kind of fly-dog hybrid. Not exactly beautiful, but it was better than what there was there before. Having gotten that over with, he looked up, just to make sure nobody was looking as he dove into Valentino’s secrets.

However, upon looking up, he bore witness to something troubling: someone rummaging around the ruin, trying to steal what was there. Just as the thief was about to reach for the angelic steel sword, Judas felt something… strangely innate, as if directed by a higher power. Like instinct, he bolted up and towards the looter, smacked them in the side of their face with his fist and, almost instantly, swung at them with the sword, fatally cutting them across the face horizontally. Their eyes, set on the weapon in fear, remained open as they fell to the ground, dead. Judas paused. It was… odd. He had never before done anything like that that naturally, that… instinctively. “This must be a sign I’m doing good”, he thought, “A sign that the LORD is aiding me”. Not putting much further thought into it or rather, trying not to, and abstaining from further privacy invasion, so as to keep himself on God’s good side, he laid down to rest. Everything from prior, in his mind, had already been explained, no need to dwell on the death further.

Just wait until night.

And when night did fall, out he came, heading for V Tower for the second time now, armed with Velvette’s key, and Valentino’s, if it was necessary.

He found the way to the door to Velvette’s section, and swung it open, unlocked, as if its owner was still there physically. Even if he had managed to suppress her, with sword and excuse alike, she was still there, though fading away, in his mind. Shambling through the empty hall, past the empty modelling rooms, offices and workshops, he looked at the materials, pinned to the wall in bolts, to be looted or never used again by her former underlings.

“They’ve been suffering most their afterlives under her heel, I’m sure they’ll be grateful for the help”, he muttered in his mind, as he came closer to Velvette’s office itself. He slotted in the key and turned it, leading the door to slowly open itself, revealing a room similarly luxurious to the one he had visited before, though thankfully less full of, to word it professionally, fucked up shit. And once more, he looked for the collection of soul contracts she had attained. The drawers were, unlike the previous location’s… specific contents, absolutely full of binders. However, Judas’ worry was quickly dispelled as he opened one, revealing it to be full of not contacts, but projects.

What seemed to be hundreds, if not thousands of design drawings of articles of clothing, all signed with the same signature: Velvette’s. It was a sight to behold, for sure, entire collections that bore her name as a designer. Judas wanted to, at first, use them for kindling, just like the contracts, but… there was something inside him that would not allow it, his hand getting unsteady, and failing to remove the paper from its binder. He eventually decided to let it go and, by process of elimination, located the briefcase containing the contracts, a similar amount to Valentino’s collection, and grabbed the briefcase in which they were contained before escaping from the building, trying not to look back. It would all be gone soon anyway.

And so once more, he built an altar to the LORD, set discarded wooden planks upon it, set a few contacts as kindling, and, with the sword at a safe distance, lit the fire. Throwing contracts in, watching souls be officially freed with his very eyes, it felt… rewarding still, despite some mysterious bad feeling arising in his mind, which he intended to ignore. After all, this is God’s will, and you don’t argue with God’s will.

No matter how hard that may be…

Notes:

I appologise for getting this out so slowly! I've been going through a lot mentally, and the spurt of motivation at the start has worn off, so I'll slow down on chapter production, but don't worry! This'll still be a thing! Just... less frequent.

Chapter 5: Intermission 2: What The Headlines Say

Summary:

Vox deals with the consequences of his two closest associates being gone, and realises something terrifying was coming for him.

The next day had come, but the room Vox was in had no windows to see or use it. Instead, blue lights, in consort with the light of the monitors in the room, illuminated the dark interior, hidden away from the prying eyes of lesser denizens of Hell. The path leading to the centre platform was collapsed, and the platform itself larger than usual, just as he liked to set it when he needed some time with himself. However, this time, instead of using said time for non-family friendly activities, he only solemnly looked down at his phone, his grimace completely indescribable, somewhere between being hopeless, furious, and on the verge of tears

He was looking at photos. Photos of him, Velvette and Valentino. Photos of how it used to be. Even though they were all exploitative towards their employees, they seemed… happy together, in these pictures. Like being together unlocked a feeling they had never really felt apart. One they, or he, due to recent events would never feel again. Valentino, the only one who could match his mind control and be equal to him, was gone. Velvette, the one he’d always discuss new tech and gadgets with, was gone too. And with that, he had something left, sure - a lot, even. His network of corporations, his power over what media the plebs consume, but noone left. The two people who kept him in check, now gone. The top of the Vees, and now ever so lonely.

Vox struggled to even hold his phone, his face still in that unfamiliar expression, glitching slightly on his screen.

Suddenly, his browsing was interrupted by a phone alarm. One of what was normally his favourite song, but what now seemed like a pest, mocking him for his current predicament. He quickly shut it off to prevent a break in his mind. It was time for the conference, a monthly event, one that couldn’t come at a worse time for him, but one he had to get through. He rose with struggle up from his seat, spinning around to face where the passage to the rest of the building would normally be.

”Pull it the fuck together, Vox, you can’t let yourself be a fucking pussy like this!” is what he said to himself as he raised the bridge to the platform remotely, gesturing upwards with his hand. Still glitching, with his head down, he put the phone in his pocket and strutted down the path, then through the halls of the building.

Just two days before, there were employees scrambling to their workplaces, folks sourcing things from one department to another… now, it was just empty rooms. Empty, lifeless rooms. Design studios, small tailories for especially important projects of Velvette’s, writing rooms of (often paper-thin, but still) porn plots, now completely depopulated. Only the rooms regarding Vox’ TV operation remained operational, providing a somewhat relieving contrast to the other departments. All of Valentino’s and Velvette’s underlings got… freed. He wasn’t sure by who, all he saw on the CCTV recordings were some blurry images of a… man? Impossible, that’s not how Hell works. And it couldn’t be an angel then, so… who could it be? Did that same man kill both of his co-Vees? Trying to not think about it too much, Vox made it out of the door as fast as he could, ignoring the pressing silence

He entered the limousine parked outside hastily and directed the chauffeur to the conference building. Today, even he felt the silence permeating in the limo. He thought to ask his boss what was wrong, but knowing him, it’d just serve as a way to get zapped, so the ride continued in silence.

Eventually, the great and shining conference building was within sight, and, after a few more minutes, due to a traffic jam that Vox would normally dispel with lightning being… uninterrupted, it was within reach as well. Vox stepped out of the vehicle, handed some banknotes to the chauffeur (a little less than usual, but he was too scared to bring it up).

Vox attempted to put on his usual arrogant facade, but found that the result looked either unconvincing or much too theatrical for him, and therefore abandoned the idea, opting instead to just… act natural. It wasn’t something he was completely used to, but perhaps by acting natural, not thinking about it too much, he could avoid anything especially embarrassing.

And thus he made his way to the conference room, acting as natural as his TV-minded self could possibly act, sitting down in his designated seat, at the far edge of the table, next to Valenti- NO! Stop it! We can’t be doing this right now! People are watching!

”I believe everyone of note has arrived. The meeting may begin now.”, Carmilla stated calmly, no Velvette to heckle- hey, stop that!

”Well, there are some absences, I don’t believe we can start yet...” Alastor interjected. Vox readied himself for the blow that would soon follow.

”Oh wait! They’re dead! Nevermind then!”

The room, particularly the minor overlords, burst out in laughter, and Vox only barely stopped himself from toppling over onto the table in shame, though a grimace did form on his face.

”Well, if they’re dead, why don’t we decide who gets what from their former territories?”, a well-dressed owl-shaped lower overlord suggested.

The lower overlords began casting their bets on the former Vees’ enterprises. One went in for a pornography studio, another for a sewing manufactory. It reminded Vox of something he learnt about back in his life on earth. Usually, he forgot whatever he learnt during religious education, but this time, something was clear within his mind. Like the roman soldiers betting on the clothes of Christ, so were they now planning to rip up between each other what had been crafted meticulously by his two deceased friends. This could not stand. Vox rose from his seat.

”BULLSHIT, ALL OF THIS!”, he loudly exclaimed, “I should be getting their land! They were associated with ME! Th-th-they, th-they”, he began to have difficulty talking, “THEY WERE MY CLOSEST ASSOCIATES!”, he shouted, in a way that communicated a much closer connection than that, before attempting to murder-glare a good part of the minor overlords into retracting their bids. However, due to his face looking less murderous and more panicked and upset, this did not work

”Aw, how sad!”, Alastor said, sarcastically, “The big TV star’s lost his voice because of his friends’ deaths! Too bad they had no wills that could ascribe their empires to you, and besides, the majority is right, isn’t it?”, he attempted to put as many holes in Vox’ ego as possible. “Boo hoo! Everyone, let’s give this poor little boy our condolences!”

The minor overlords burst out in laughter again, this time much longer and more intense than before. This was it. Vox’s face turned from upset right to murderous, his rage concentrating, pushing out his sorrow, even if for just a brief moment, just so he could do this:

”SHUT. THE FUCK. UP.”

Bright blue lightning shot out of Vox’ hands and into the crowd of minor overlords, tasing them en-masse. The room turned to chaos, with some attempting to escape the web of thunderbolts, some immobilised from the blasts of electricity, and some falling to the floor, dead of their burns.

Alastor backed up slightly, shocked at first, but managed to regain his steely facade after a little bit. Carmilla too, backed up, though she didn’t have to worry about not acting shocked. Vox’ had outbursts before, everyone knew that, but never anything as major as THIS, especially something that seemed so… sincere. Perhaps Alastor made a mistake pushing his buttons like this while he was in an especially vulnerable state.

After a while of the electricity permeating through the air, it calmed down, eventually stopping like a burning-out fire in Vox’ hands as he demonstratively left the room. A moment of silence followed, but after it, the meeting was renewed, as if half of the minors weren’t just shocked to death.

As Vox left the building, he got back into the limousine, parked outside, among the mess of other modes of transportation. The chauffeur instinctively turned off the radio and put away his canned drink as his boss entered the vehicle.

”Tower. Now.”, he simply commanded, and he followed said instructions to a tee

As they arrived at the tower, Vox got out of the car, quickly handed the driver some Souls (more than usual, neatly equalising the whole day’s income), and spoke to him.

”That’s all you’re gonna get from me. You can go now.”, he calmly, and civilly said.

”Wha-? Why?”, the driver responded, his mane puffing up in surprise

”I- I- I-", Vox struggled to compose himself, but finally achieved such. "I’ll be next to die, I know it, and the only way to stop that… is to lock myself in my portion of the tower. I won’t be going out anytime soon. Thank you for your service, aaaaand you can go now, understood?.”, he explained, strangely calmly at first, but returning to his usual self near the end, as he left for the entrance to the tower. The chauffeur drove off.

Back inside the surveillance room, as Vox made it to the centre area, he meticulously pressed every safety button on his control panel he could find. Lock doors. Firelocks. Gun turrets. All active. There’d be no chance he’d die now. He collapsed the bridge and glanced over at the door. Nevermore would anyone come in here. Nevermore. Only his sharks to keep him company, as the rest of Hell goes about its life.

If only he knew how short his peace would be.

Notes:

Appologies for the long delay! Having trouble coordinating with my proofreaders, combined with being busy with school and only getting my inspiration back not too long ago, made it hard to release fast, but here we are!

Chapter 6: The Tower of Babel

Summary:

Judas ascends the tower to eliminate the last of the Vees.

The Tower was sealed, now a seemingly impenetrable fortress, with autodefences seldom seen down in Hell. Everything was locked down, even as employees were trapped inside. Some scrambled to see their way out of the protective cage which had just clamped around them, while others were content and kept working, keeping the network operational even through Vox’ paranoid nightmare. Just be careful not to set off any of the gun turrets.

All the scanning, probing, all in service of a great lie:

That this would keep Vox safe.

Judas stood in front of the tower, sword in hand. He felt his heart beating faster as he realised that after this, there would be no turning back. Either he would rid the underworld of the overlord menace… or he would die trying, and he certainly wasn’t planning on the latter.

With careful strides, he approached the door, gripping his sword harder. A plan had crystallised in his mind, but he wasn’t fully sure if it would work, and if it wouldn’t… well… he could certainly say goodbye to the entire idea of redemption. Nevertheless, he pressed forward, extending his sword hand towards the door, now enclosed by a clamping airlock-esque mechanism, though obviously not airtight, made up of two parts sealing each other in place, extending from each side.

With force, he stabbed the sword into the small gap in the door. He had heard of the nigh-unbreakable strength of angelic steel, and he figured it was time to find out if any of it were true. As he inserted the sword further into the gap, the airlock spread apart, its line of caution patterns in its interlocking segment becoming distorted. Eventually, the hole was large enough to afford something… riskier. Judas, with determination in his heart and might in his arm, twisted the sword into a horizontal blade position, further expanding the gap between the two motorised elements. Stretching the limits of his strength, he slowly rotated the sword as well, slowly but surely bringing the two door pieces far enough apart to where he could, theoretically, squeeze through.

With great caution, he ducked under the sword and, perpendicular in his shoulders’ axis to the one of the door, slid his way into the building. Carefully, he removed the sword from its current position. As he snapped it out back into his hand, the doors shut with a loud, metallic CLAMP, sealing him in.

He was in.

He had only managed to turn around before the security systems awoke. The cameras sprung to life as a bunch of laser emitters assembled themselves on the ceiling into a neat pattern, which soon emitted lasers downwards, splitting the space into a few columns. Judas had seen these kinds of emitters on one of the twisted gameshows he had passively picked up from TVs. He knew they were capable of doing to him what they did to those poor, desperate competitors… those poor victims of Vox’ greed, may they soon be avenged. At the same time, a few fake potted plants opened up, revealing gatling gunturrets within their false interior.

Given almost no chance to react, Judas thought quickly. As the grid of lasers began to approach, clearly in an attempt to chop him into columns matching the laser pattern, he quickly strode through them, in a similar way to how he got through the door, except without the need, in fact, with the specific instruction not to crouch. As he barely passed the laser columns, the turrets managed to lock onto him. Thankfully enough, he saved himself with a roll towards the exit door, feeling the whizzing of the bullets near him as he escaped.

Running into the next room, being a corridor into Vox’ part of the complex, he saw turrets casting themselves forward from the walls, almost in a wave, above rows of sinners’ corpses lined up against the walls, almost unintentional reminders of those employees who attempted to escape. Each locked onto him one after another and opened fire, barely missing due to his sheer speed. He quickly burst through the door on the other side, which caught a few bullets before the turrets stopped their assault.

Judas shut the door behind himself in a panicked motion, taking a few deep breaths as he got away from the line of fire. He wouldn’t like to admit it, but… he was scared. What if those bullets were also of angelic steel? What if he could die forever from them? And even without that, he would still leave his sword behind in the complex if he died, completely destroying his chances at fulfilling his mission. That would not do.

He lowered himself from the door, instead taking a look at the grand room in front of him. It was the main cubicle room, and the heart of the behind-the-scenes part of Vox’ part of the complex. It looked quite a bit like a cubicle hall in any other part of the world, Hell or otherwise, if quite red-tinted. They were much emptier than usual, with only a few workers still at their stations, the rest having found ways to escape… or die trying. Judas took a few steps forward into one of the halls separating the lines of workplaces and looked to the side, prompted by a whimpering noise.

There, he found a rather young-looking humanoid sinner in glasses, a white shirt and brown pants curled up under his desk in the fetal position, shaking and clearly distressed. As Judas turned to him, he stopped shaking, eventually looking towards him with a frightened expression, glancing at the sword and gritting his teeth, pupils dilating in further fear.

”Yes?”, he forced a sympathetic grin onto his face, trying to avoid offending someone who might just be his future killer, though he debated for a second if it would be preferable to rotting away inside of the tower.

Judas paused for a bit, before giving him an answer

”Where is Vox and who holds the keys to there?”, he finally asked, narrowing his eyes as he clutched his hand around his sword’s hilt tighter, prompting the employee to back up against the wall, shriveling up like a raisin in terror.

The employee coughed nervously, before delivering an answer

”Err, the manager holds the keys to the Surveillance Room… they should be over there!”, he smiled again, a false charade, pointing down the hallway. Judas acknowledged that the worker needed no words to beg for his life, as the anxiety behind his bared teeth said enough.

"Very well", Judas thought. As the man before him wasn't the demon calling the shots, he traded the worker's advice for his mercy.

He turned away from the employee, prompting a deep sigh of relief. Instead, Judas was headed for the direction that the employee had pinpointed, up to another demon, this time with the form of a snake, who was currently shouting at some other employees about… something or other. Judas wasn’t really too sure

”You fucking imbesssssilesssss!”, was the last sentence they managed to get out before finding themselves between a rock and a hard place.. Or rather, a sword and a wall. With the angelic steel blade up to their throat, Judas made a very simple request:

”Give me the key to the Surveillance Room.”

The employees the snake was berating swiftly stopped their work, visibly frightened at the presence of such a weapon in their workplace. Without further persuasion, the supervisor grabbed the keycard pinned at the lapel of their shirt with their tail and put it into Judas’ hand. At that, he released his steel grip upon the snake, and instead navigated to the elevator, which was just next to him. The employees slowly resumed their work, even if only to appease the power hungry manager when he recovered from the shock.

He pressed the elevator's button, and stepped inside upon its chime. Judas gave the supervisor a cold leer as the doors closed in front of him.

A beat. In just a moment, he was going to confront the last of the Vees. Would this be his hardest battle yet, or would it only be the last of them by virtue of being secluded? Only time would tell.

Rather quicker than he had expected, the elevator reached the top floor. The door opened, opposite the door to the Surveillance Room, which was enclosed with the same kind of clamping lock that the entrance was. This one was, however, much thinner than the one at the entrance, which gave Judas a certain… interesting idea.

Vox sat in front of the screens, on the secluded platform in the middle of the room, looking at the surveillance footage. The killer was getting closer. No, no, no! This can’t end like this! That’s it! Either he would take revenge on the person who murdered his frie-buisness partners... or, well… it seems like he’d die trying. He began to shake at the thought. His hand drifted below the desk, grasping a pistol tightly as he closed his eyes, which were dripping with tears, visually, on his screen, at least. It would all come down to this, the fate of both the Vees and himself.

His mind filled with rage as his grimace shifted into one of anger. How dare he. Valentino… sure, it wasn’t a healthy relationship he had with him, but he was the only true equal in power he could find. Both hypnotists, now separated by the eternal veil of after-afterlife. And Velvette? He remembered her well, how they’d spend evenings discussing the newest in technological marvels… but, now her entrails decorated the floor of some ruined building in one of PentCit’s abandoned sectors. Nothing more than a statistic, perhaps a headline for a week or two. He briefly shrunk in terror as he remembered that the same would happen to him should he lose: crushed into meaningless silicon powder under the same consumerist babelian tower he tried to build to stick it to the higher overlords.

What if… what if he could’ve avoided this? When he was a child back on Earth, his parents used to send him away to Sunday school. Of course, even back then, he had higher priorities, such as scamming his peers out of their loose change, but… he did remember a few things. It was mostly very elementary stuff, love God with all your heart, all your soul and all your body, and your brother like yourself, and all that… but what if all of this could’ve been avoided, were he to listen closer, ask more questions, follow those rules… could he have ended up in a better position than that of being tracked down by a maniacal killer with a penchant against the Vees? In Heaven, perhaps? No, no, too optimistic. It was Hell, or Purgatory if he really tried.

But… there was also another thing he remembered: “No matter how far gone you are, Jesus will forgive you if you beg for forgiveness with honest regret”... was it still not too late? Maybe that hotel run by the princess of Hell was a sign that he could still change? Joining it would be admitting defeat to his main rival, sure, but… it wouldn’t really matter, would it? There are higher things at stake here than some petty rivalry… his salvation was at stake, forget killing the radio star!

His grip on his pistol loosened as he pondered, his eyes drifting from place to place, as if connecting the facts on a mental corkboard, his face turning from one of rage to… hope? Maybe… maybe he wasn’t so far gone after all, maybe there was time…

Then, suddenly, he heard something which made him get up from his seat, and his expression revert to the rage-filled, slightly nervous one he had before.

It was the sound of a sword bursting through thin metal.

As Judas spread apart the door with his bare hands, Vox turned around, gripping the pistol tightly once more, pointing it at the assailant, sideways, gangsta-style.

Judas’ eyes widened at the target seemingly being prepared for his assault, and, jumping swiftly through the door, raised his sword to perhaps shield himself from the shot. Judas closed his eyes

Vox fired.

Judas felt his sword move downwards instantly, like before with the swing on Velvette. When he opened his eyes, he saw something: a bullet hole on the metal floor.

after a brief pause to confirm this had just happened, Judas took a step forward, looking threateningly at Vox

Vox looked dumbfounded, in complete disbelief of what had just happened. He raised the pistol again and fired three more times. Each time, Judas’ sword knocked the bullet out of the air, almost on its own, and redirected it into the floor.

Each time, Judas took another step forward, approaching him like an unknowable force of nature

Vox dropped the pistol, which hit the ground and tumbled into the abyss below. His eye twitched. Was resistance truly futile? Was he… doomed? No. If he was going out, he was going out on his own terms. With a swift hand movement, he extended the bridge between the platform and the outer ring, harnessing his electric powers with his other. With quick strides, almost running, he closed the distance, prompting Judas to charge with his sword prepared.

Just as Judas was about to swing, Vox had closed the distance enough to use his electricity. Needing to stop the neck-height blow, he used both of his hands on Judas’ in-motion sword instead of him, repelling it successfully.

As Judas recovered and lined up another swing, Vox acted quickly, punching him in the gut.

As he recoiled from the pain of the metal fist’s impact, the sword flew over Vox, onto the central platform. Locking his eyes on it, he attempted to charge forward, only for Vox to grab him on his way past.

Soon after, Judas felt the volts of energy coursing through his body, getting higher with every second. This can’t end like this.

Thinking quick, he leaned forward a bit before lunging backwards, with his elbow at Vox’ screen height. Vox was too distracted to dodge, only looking on in horror for a split second before staggering back, a crack visible on his screen. Most importantly for Judas, this meant Vox had let go of him, giving him free reign to promptly sprint over and grab the sword from the platform.

He briefly debated trying to press some of the buttons on the dashboard, but a win like that was not what he came here for. He wanted to punish this sinner in a fair fight, not drop him into the void unceremoniously.

Just as he had grabbed the sword and reversed direction, Vox had fully recovered from his injury and, although his screen was glitching, he was once again taking careful steps back into the fray, electricity in both hands.

Judas lunged forward and swung from the top, but was again met with a deflection. However, as his weapon was pushed back, this gave him an excellent opportunity. He, leaning back, then forward and down, struck with the flat side of his sword at Vox’ legs.

It worked.

Vox, unprepared for the swing, had his legs swept out from under him. He quickly scrambled to get back onto the platform, but it was no use, he was already too far down. The most he could do is catch it in one of his hands and barely hold on.

Judas stood over the overlord, blade in both hands, overhead, preparing for a swing. He was looking down at him, with the most contempt Vox had seen from anyone in years. It was enough to wipe any semblance of confidence from his face. He felt the end coming.

Suddenly, he remembered it: “No matter how far gone you are, Jesus will forgive you if you beg honestly”... what if this killer was… acting in a distorted version of God’s will? He certainly didn’t look like the type who killed to gain power. He looked… almost dishevelled in comparison to Vox, and… what other purpose was there to killing overlords if not power or some… sick vendetta. Either way, it was time to bet it all on one stack of chips. Not like he had any more. Vox weakly raised his hand when he felt the killer ready to swing.

”STOP!”

Judas’ eyes widened, his hands slightly loosening around the sword, before going to his sides, his sword in his left. What was this guy’s problem?

Vox began to speak once more, his screen glitching from its damage.

”I… I know who you’re trying to serve. I know. My parents tried to teach me to worship him all those years back, but earthly me had other ideas… so did hellish me, to be honest. I was always chasing that big “gotcha” against the other overlords, but… I never thought about what lead me here… my greed, my vanity, my want for power… I know it’s too late to avoid consequences, but… does this really have to be it?”, he continued, gaining almost an unsure, nervous emotion in his voice. “Look, man… I’ll turn back! I swear! I’ll give everything I have away and go join the Hotel! I promise! Hell, I can help you! Just… please… show a little forgiveness… that’s what He taught, after all, didn’t he? Forgiveness…”

Judas thought about this for a moment… forgiveness… that’s what his Rabbi taught him, after all… should he do it? This was someone who had proven he was rotten, but… perhaps it was just a momentary lapse of judgement. Something to be remembered, but… forgiven. He had no idea what the Hotel was, but… perhaps Vox wasn’t as evil as he once suspected.

Judas grabbed Vox’ hand, and began to pull him up.

But in just that moment, another thought overtook him. Why was he losing sight of his crusade? He wasn’t here to save criminals, he was here to punish them! That’s what THE LORD truly wanted, didn’t he? That’s what He meant when He flooded the army of Egypt, when He laid the flood upon the world, through which only Noah’s family survived, when He cast Adam and Eve out of the Garden. That’s the spirit of THE LORD! Punishment! Die! Die sinner scum! Die as punishment for your sins with your rotten brethren!

Judas jerked back and forth as he held these thoughts in his head, almost like a wild animal in agony, confusing Vox.

”Err, what are you doing?”, Vox asked, clearly shocked at the convulsions of his would-be killer’s upper body

It wasn’t long before he heard a punctuated answer

”THE. WAGES. OF. SIN. IS. DEATH!”, Judas shouted the last part of the expression loud enough to fill the entire surveillance room.

In his twitching, he let go of Vox’ hand with one of his hands, picked up the sword

and swung his sword at the overlord’s other hand.

Vox couldn’t say anything, for he had nothing to say. The only thing he could show Judas is a betrayed expression as he fell down into the abyss, never to emerge again. Judas clutched Vox’ hand in panic as he watched him fall. Did he just… do that? Of course he did, he assured himself. There was nothing to it. The spirit of THE LORD was punishment, and he had just executed the plan, nothing to it.

In a single fluid motion, he stood up, dropping the severed hand into the void with its owner and directed himself to the inner platform..

He walked over to the surveillance terminal and sat down in front of it, perching his sword upon the dashboard. He looked through the files present on the hard drive. It was generally just video recordings of interesting incidents within the Tower, though he did find a few pictures of the Vees together. Eventually, he found a folder

”SDeals”

Without a thought, he brought up the context menu on the folder

”Delete”

As he watched the OS delete the files, he had already decided: The crusade would not be hindered by the mistake of forgiveness, and by the sin of empathy, for both were useless folly, only getting in the way of just punishment

The Vees had fallen, destroyed both by their arrogance in the face of the public and their friendship with each other. Judas vowed not to emulate their mistakes.

Now, the rest of Hell was next. Stand prepared, overlords. The spirit of vengeance, the angel of death. He is coming