Hell’s (temporary) Angel

by Paper3ater

Summary:

After being (bribed) asked to literally go to Hell by the God of Death, Cale and his family are tasked with rehabilitating themselves to help increase the trend of inspiring sinners to go to heaven and fix the imbalance present in the world!

They also meet a couple familiar faces on the way.

(Starting as a one shot, I will likely add more chapters though)

Notes:

WRITE MORE CROSSOVERS FOR THESE TWO FANDOMS IF YOU’RE READING THIS I BEG. PLEASE. PLEASE I’M ON MY KNEES. PLEASSEEEEEEEEEEEE 😞😞😞😞😞😞😞🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏😞😞😞😞😞😞🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Chapter 1: Beginnings

The red-haired man readjusts the black mask on his face, a pathetic replacement for his iconic white one, as he kicks a pebble down the street. 

A crowd gathers around a collection of boxes, all which seem to act like recording devices back in his world, all displaying a man with a square-head (literally) preaching and preening, declaring, begging, with a grandiose, almost trustworthy expression, to “trust” him with their safety. 

Barrow just scoffs at the sight of these pathetic demons nodding at each other, hypnotised by the man’s pretty promises and lies, as well as the obvious brainwashing taking place.

Perhaps, if he wasn’t cursed by the Gods for his ambitious nature, maybe, he too, would’ve fallen for the man’s charms and literal magic. At least, he thinks it’s magic. He’s not quite used to the mechanics of this world yet.

Speaking of, he’s not exactly sure how he got into this place, just woke up, dazed and confused, head spinning and his vision still effected by the bright white light that came from getting stabbed by whatever-the-fuck Henituse stabbed him with. 

He felt a lot less like himself, as if that was even possible somehow, and there were some rather… noticeable changes to his body. 

Besides a clear, harrowing, white scar on the area where he was stabbed by that maniac, his mask was replaced by a pathetic, black makeshift of his old one, claws instead of nails, and a hint of draconic features, such as scales, as though to mock his crusade to conquer that annoying, arrogant race.

The place he has now found himself is called “Hell”, and he has apparently found himself in the ever-illustrious Pride Ring of Hell. It is, at least he’s heard it to be, the first and uppermost region of this world, and thus it must be the best.

Such a thing was to be expected, after all, he was the one living in it. Or, dying? In it? 

Yes, Barrow is ‘dead’. This world consists of the long-deceased. It seems that in this realm, reincarnation does not exist. When you die, you get sent straight to this place, a hot (or at least he assumes so, hard to tell when you can’t feel anything), rowdy, lawless shit hole. 

Barrow will admit, with what would be fear if he felt it, that he isn’t getting another chance next time. This is it. His last try. 

Although he’s slowly learning about the hierarchy of this place, such as where ‘Overlords’ and ‘Sins’ and the like stand, what he does know, is that he *has* to get to the top. Any means necessary.

A sight of a familiar, distressed looking box-head lighting something akin to a cigar immediately gives him an idea.

————

Vox is doing… just fine.

Really, earlier he was just celebrating Alastor’s pathetic loss and defeat at the hands of that First Man, Adam, cackling and drinking, drunkenly fighting Velvette for her phone after she’d taken some less than proper photos of him and Val celebrating in a more physical way, but now he’s just- fuck.

Alastor may of went missing, but there came two new sinners into that pathetic hotel, clear threats that he had fucking nothing on. Sure, the red-haired demon didn’t seem physically strong like that black-haired one, but the aura around him was way fucking off, eyes with a wise glint no fuck-up would usually have. The two beady little cats responding to him didn’t seem normal either, and that’s not just the weird colour of the red one’s fur. Vox could swear one talked.

Plus, sure, the videos didn’t show shit, but the density of one spot next to that man seemed to increase so much, light could bend around it, like a hidden beast hiding in plain sight. 

Usually, demons like this weren’t a big deal. They’d usually spend enough time in hell for anyone to be able to blackmail them, something that was especially easy for someone like Vox, who had a giant tech company, with a million screens all recording every movement and action, every word and sound.

These ones were different, for the obvious reason that it’s like they never existed before their arrival at that hotel less than a day ago, yet had the power and confidence of an Overlord at the least. 

Steady steams of smoke left his mouth as he exhaled, holding the cigarette still in his hand. He couldn’t just toss it, he owned the streets in this area, and it wouldn’t do him any good if the property value went down, but he also didn’t want to ruin his expensive, prim suit.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a red-haired stranger approach, all too similar to the current headache on his hands, though his hair was shorter and more ragged, his brown eyes lighter and his demeanour rugged and demanding. He looked like the man’s edge lord twin brother.

“Vox, from Voxtek, right? ‘Trust us with your safety’ and that? You sure look pissed.” The man began, his voice cold, and slightly irritated. He could tell just by the look on his face, but he sure wasn’t used to having to go out of his way to interact with people.

“What’s it to you? Turn around and forget you ever met me.” The brim of TV static conquered the area, Vox’s power in use.

The man, however, just waved his hand, an inhuman grin on his face, like he hasn’t had practice smiling in years. “Mind-control, eh? Must be useful, for your sheep back there.” 

There was a tinge of discomfort Vox bit down. He was at his best when he dominated an interaction, not when the man he was trying to control simply ignored his attempts and kept talking. 

“If you must know, I have quite the headache on my hands. A red-head and his black-haired dog, if you’re familiar.
Looks a lot like you.” Vox spat, fully expecting the man to walk away after that, but instead, he got a reaction he wasn’t quite expecting.

“Fuck- of course I’m familiar with that bastard! Fate really can’t fucking separate us after all, we’re made to be, chasing me in every shadow and corner of the world, even in death-“ The man had started ranting at that point, an angry, passionate thing, apparently not too unlike his when he thinks of that stupid fuck-up of a man named Alastor.

“Wait, so, you know this man? Long red hair? Brown eyes?” Vox reiterated, not wanting to deal with an annoying bullshit rant when he could be doing better things.

“Yes. I know him and his stupid fucking cats, and that damned dragon, and his loyal puppy of a guard.” Vox sputtered at the man’s casual-yet-reeling confirmation.

What the fuck does ‘dragon’ mean? What kind of demon ends up as a ‘dragon’? Is that the weird mysterious feel he keeps visibly seeing in those videos? 

The look in that man’s face only brightens, as though he’s hooked onto something at last, his grin sharp and toothy, showing his canines as he speaks, his voice scheming and excited, yet cold and empty, lacking of any true emotion.

“If that fucking bastard is the bane of your existence, then, for a small fee, surely, I can help you with removing it.” The man declares, the look in his eyes that of a madman’s.

Vox, ever the opportunist, sighs and decides to hear him out. Time is money, after all,  and he’ll gladly make an investment.

————

Charlie isn’t quite sure when the young red-haired man and his entourage came along, but she isn’t complaining! Not when kids are so cute! 

“Weak human, why is that strange fur man looking at you like that?” The little black dragon, Raon, asked.

“Nya. Shall we put him to sleep?” The red cat added, earning the adorable nod of the gray cat sitting beside it.

The red-haired man, Cale Henituse, as he had introduced himself, didn’t say a thing, too distracted with wiping crumbs off the dragon’s face, a black-haired man named Choi Han whispering something to Husk, standing beside him, holding back a laugh.

Charlie had ended up kindly asking Angel Dust to control himself and calm down on the sexual act around children, and he ended up just standing quietly in the corner, pouting as he remarked that “he was not a fur man, but a spider”.

Her dad seemed oddly bothered at the sight of Cale and his children, hiding his white knuckles so as not to let his emotion show.

“Right. So. Are you actually here for redemption? Or are you here to couch surf?” Lucifer said behind a smile, strained and cracking, to which Cale simply clicked his tongue.

“I’m sensing some hostility? I’m here for redemption. I want to go to heaven with my family, and, simply put, Charlie here is the best person to ask for.” The man stated simply, unbothered by the passive-aggressiveness Lucifer ended up displaying. 

In truth, Lucifer felt jealous. So fucking jealous. He knows, yes, that it’s fucking sad and pathetic to get so worked up over seeing a father and his children getting along, but, it feels like God’s rubbing it in his face.

Showing off happy children and happy fathers and- yes, he knows that Charlie trusts him more now but, it’s still awkward. He knows she doesn’t see him as truly her dad anymore, he hasn’t trusted in her enough for them to be that. He’s tried and tried but, he’ll never try enough, not like she has.

But then this fucker come along, and not only is he showing off his kids and their trust in him, but it’s like he’s trying to adopt Charlie too!

“Are you eating well? Come come, I have sweets, Vaggie, Nifty, you too.” The slim man announced, ushering them over and feeding them and doting on them like they’re his kids, to which they all smile, all the smile only kids without fathers could make.

As soon as he was told about the battle they had only around a week ago, and all the rebuilding, he shook his head, like a fucking war vet, and simply said “kids should be kids”, before going to pay his respects to the painting of Sir Pentious with his kids, an action which he seemed to be all too familiar with. 

Honestly, he was the King of Hell, why did these issues come to find him?!

Chapter 2: Where introductions lead

Summary:

Bonding! And a small interaction between Vox and the White Star.

Notes:

Thank you for the comments ❤️ I will try to respond to each and every single one, they keep me motivated!

Let it be perfectly known that Cale made his descent to hell for the bare prospect of money, and a vacation.

 

One world specifically came along, promising fanciful wads of money, technology and blessed artefacts of the Abrahamic category, all in exchange for his simple visit and ascent from hell.

 

This world would be a bit more difficult considering that there was only one God in charge of things, but as he was apparently aware of the other Gods outside of his sphere of influence, he could probably make something up.

 

Although this trip only allowed for 5 people maximum, and he was not intending on leaving his kids behind at all, he still had his communication devices, so it’s not as if he couldn’t communicate with the rest of his family back in Roan.

 

When they actually came to the world, they came to the quick realisation that there were a couple of details that ended up being left out.

 

Namely, the two giant crow’s wings on his back and the dragon’s horns on his head.

 

So much for a calm, unnoticeable entrance. Not even his ancient powers seemed calm about that.

 

‘Holy shit, Cale, you’ve transformed into a beautiful bird man! Does this mean we can eat more?’ The Glutton chirped up happily.

 

‘Look around! This place is so full of fire! This might just be my kind of world!’ The Cheapskate commented, which resulted in Cale taking a quick gander at his surroundings.

 

In the near distance, located behind rugged, red streets, was a hotel, extravagant and expensive looking - it was likely the building that the World ended up mentioning, the ‘Hazbin Hotel’ - a rather curious name.

 

Cale turned to address his group, but paused when his eyes landed on Choi Han.

 

“Human, the strong Choi Han is a dog! How strangely fitting!” Raon declared happily, as the cats and Cale had to hold back a laugh.

 

The man had dog ears the colour of his jet-black hair, a tail, and a collar around his neck the colour of a dark red, reminiscent of Cale’s own red hair.

 

Choi Han, embarrassed as he was, simply waved his hand, hiding his face as his cheeks went a slight pink. “So, what’s the plan, Cale-nim?”

 

“Our best bet is that hotel over there,” Cale stated, gesturing to the building over yonder, his wings slightly twitching to the movement.

 

These things were not going to be easy to deal with, huh?

 

“Weak human? Why are you frowning? Let’s get going! I want to see what’s inside!” Raon asked, in the happiest and most curious of tones as he dragged Cale along the street, straight into the hotel.

 

When they did make it into the hotel, they were immediately greeted by a very happy young lady with blonde hair, and rosy pink cheeks.

 

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! I’m Charlie, are you here to be redeemed?” She introduced herself, a phrase she’s clearly practiced many times, yet the emotion in her voice still clear and proud.

 

Cale, remembering how it felt to work in customer service, answered politely, “Yes, ah, is it alright if you help us with settling in? We’re new to hell, you see.”

 

The blonde girl nodded curtly, urging them to sit down on one of the grand couches in the reception, where he noticed a bar and a catman wiping bottles in the corner, looking at him with a sharp look in his eye, as though he was analysing his every move.

 

“Very lovely kids you have there sirs, what are your names?” She asked, offering a genuine smile as she did so.

 

“I am Cale, this is Choi Han,” the black-haired man simply nodded as a form of greeting.

 

“I am the Great and Powerful Raon Miru! And these are my siblings, On and Hong!” The black dragon joyfully announced, both On and Hong meowing cutely.

 

Just as the girl, Charlie, was about to say something, probably ask a question, a tall, spindly, spideresque man barged through the door, taking one glance at Cale before remarking in a loud, yet flirty voice, “Oh? And who’s the hot stuff over there? Business pickin’ up already, or are ‘ya lookin’ for a good time?”

 

Charlie answered before the man could continue, “Angel Dust! These are guests, Mister Cale and Mister Choi Han and their kids.” She put a lot of emphasis on the word kids, and he could see the way this ‘Angel Dust’ deflated in seconds.

 

The bar tender from across the room seemed to smile at that moment.

 

***

 

When they did end up getting their rooms and somewhat settling in, placing down just a bit (a lot more than Cale thought) of furniture and decor, Cale ended up being dragged down by his kids and brought to participate in an activity.

 

He ended up having to introduce himself to and hear the introductions of many strangers, and he ended up learning quite a bit about them through their first activity.

 

“So, what brought you guys to hell? What’s your tragic backstory?” The catman, Husk, he learned, asked.

 

Choi Han averted his gaze, knowing all too well he was a rather disappointing liar, and that he shouldn’t try to respond to any personal questions, instead leaving that up to Cale.

 

Husk definitely noticed that aversion, though, because his sights immediately turned to Choi Han, who was now sweating, his dog ears low, because of all the attention from the inhabitants of the room being directed at him.

 

“Husk, not everyone’s comfortable with talking about their life before hell, and you know that,” the moth-like girl, Vaggie, chastised, but Choi Han knew it wouldn’t work.

 

Cale just gave Choi Han a reassuring look, trusting him to rely on half truths at the least.

 

“Maybe the torture. And the terrorism of the church.” He admitted, all complete truths. Cale had to resist a facepalm at that. Out of everything you had to choose, Choi Han, really.

 

Lucifer, yes, the King of Hell himself, responded, in a rather exasperated voice,“You’re gonna be real fun to redeem, then, hey?-“

 

“Cale was justified, they were talking shit about Mary,” Hong, the red cat, casually spoke up, his older sister, On, rolling her eyes in utter indignation.

 

There was more of a reaction to the fact that Hong swore than the previous statement, which produced a relieved sigh from Choi Han, who gave Cale a quiet thumbs up, proud of himself for handling the situation quite well.

 

‘That’s not a reason for pride, you bastard!’ Cale thought bitterly to himself, none of his thoughts showing on his face, instead a quaint smile masking his exasperation with the dog-eared man.

 

“Where did you learn that from, little one?” Charlie asked, face worried, when Husk chided in with a remark about how it’s probably from Angel Dust, though the jab was playful and not at all as aggressive as it would seem to be from that catman.

 

“The weak Human of course, nice Charlie! He swears all the time. Like bastard. Like fuck. Like shit.” Raon proudly explains, his little dragon tail flapping happily in the air as he does so.

 

He can see Choi Han holding back laughter, that fucking bastard.

 

——

 

 

Vox looks quietly at the man sitting in the chair before him, deep in thought.

 

This man had introduced himself as the ‘White Star’, insisting on the title, his soulless eyes looking erratic as he said so.

 

With nothing in his file, this man seemed somewhat new to hell, but his demeanour screamed power, screamed dictator. Without a doubt, if this man continued to fester, he could end up a rather unpleasant threat to deal with in the future, but if he could just convince him early now, well, Vox could always use a couple new allies.

 

“I can tell you anything about that man, as long as you provide me with shelter, a decent amount of money, and a favour if need be,” the man stated simply.

 

Vox knew for a fact that without a deal, he could simply ignore any demands this man was making, move on with his day, find some other way of finding things out about that man.

 

But.

 

Vox knew things wouldn’t stay quiet long enough for him to have something prepared if this guy ended up doing anything, plus, with the limited frequencies and eyes he had through phone screens and tv screens, the glimpses he got of the man were somewhat worrying.

 

Sure, all he got were little tears and rips of sentences and remarks, but the little he got- “You’re gonna be real fun to redeem”, the obvious sarcasm, from that fuckup of a King of Hell… and the short inclusion of the word ‘torture’ and ‘terrorism’ from that black haired guard dog.

 

Sure, he had no respect for that man, Lucifer, but he was still the King of Hell, a position that meant something, power that held some sort of importance, as meagre and as misplaced as it was, so for him to say that about someone.

 

If Vox could just use this opportunity to use this man, maybe a deal was worth the trouble.

 

“Company assigned dorm, medium-employee wage, and a favour as long as it doesn’t hurt me directly. Do we have a deal?” Vox extended his hand, ready to make the deal.

 

“Deal.”

 

The man seemed to revel in the power of the handshake, a dark, soulless energy streaming off him in rugged scratches, battling Vox’s own electric zaps, that seemed to pry the darkness.

 

The ‘White Star’ fellow sat back in his chair, swatting his hand in the air, as he easily asked, “So, what do you want to know?”

 

“The basics,” Vox began, “Name, age, personality, possible cause of death, the likes.”

 

“Cale Henituse. 22. Cunning, piece of shit bastard. He shouldn’t be dead, because if I didn’t kill him there shouldn’t be anything that could. I wasn’t alive long enough to see his death through and through, but something tells me this bastard shouldn’t be here.” The White Star answered, curt and not wasting an inkling of time, just how Vox liked it.

 

“Cunning piece of shit bastard? What does that mean, then?” Vox beckoned, the whirring and zaps of Vark roaming in the background somewhat clearer.

 

“He’s not physically strong, that fucker couldn’t care less for it, but he makes up for it tenfold with his mind. It was like that man was a foe designed to beat me, an obstacle designed to stand in my way at every opportunity. Not like he needs the brawn, not when his fucking guard dog and that damned dragon are always beside him, not thinking once of leaving his fucking side.” Again, that term, ‘dragon’ kept popping up.

 

“You keep saying ‘dragon’. What the fuck does that mean?” Vox queried, voice steady.

 

“Literal dragon. I don’t know how your dragons work but they are really fucking annoying to deal with. Masters of magic, intelligent, physically strong, live an awfully long amount of time, how I want those arrogant pieces of shit fucking dead.” Ah, so a major threat.

 

Vox decides, asking question after question, that he definitely needs this man under surveillance, even if it means his attempts at getting ins into that hotel are going to get even more desperate from here on out.

 

When that man finally leaves, he sighs, opening his desk drawer to reveal a broken picture of Alastor’s fucking annoying, shitty smug little grin.

 

If he can maybe somehow persuade this man to switch sides, to see light in Voxtek, maybe then, he could finally have that fucker’s head.

 

Yeah. If he just has the chance.

Notes:

Just imagine Cale pulling out a whole ass lamp from his small little pouch like he’s Mary Poppins. That’s it. That’s the note.

Chapter 3: Suck ups. (Not literal)

Summary:

Cute tour!

Notes:

guys. imagine if cale let the kids (including his newly adopted kids) make friendship bracelets with him. omg the vision.

If there’s one thing Alastor was expecting upon his return to the hotel, it was surely not the sight of a new hotel guest cooking a grand meal for them.

 

Upon actually meeting the man and his entourage, he noted that he was a rather polite, relaxed fellow, with a calm sort of charm, a tinge unlike his children, and that guard dog of a man around him, who got on Alastor’s nerves quite a tad.

 

“Mister, what’s that in your hand?” One of the two cat children asked, tapping its paw at his radio staff.

 

“Why, it’s my staff of course. Can’t put on a good show without it,” Alastor explained, maintaining his ever-present smile.

 

“Is that why you sound weird?” Another one chirped up, to which Alastor just nodded at. Damned children.

 

Before another one could pester him with their frustrating questions, their father figure came along, Charlie beside him, a happy smile on her face and a strange bracelet on her wrist.

 

“Alastor, is it alright if you go out with Da- uh, Mister Cale here and his kids to tour around hell? He’s still rather new and is curious about the area! Surely you could help? Please?” The blonde asked, though not really a question, almost like she knew he wasn’t in a position to decline her.

 

“Yes, yes, of course my dear. We’ll be back in a jiffy, then. Come along, new friends,” Alastor exclaimed, leading out the door without a second thought, group in tow, as the rest of the hotel’s inhabitants waved them goodbye.

 

“Anything you want to learn about, then?” Alastor questioned, the radio static of his faux radio staff whirring away as he hid the staff away.

 

Speaking of, he never did really fix that staff of his - sure, he pretended to fix it, but that was only to feign strength. He was still weaker than he was before that damned battle, not that he could let such a thing show.

 

There was a look in that winged man’s eye that seemed to say that he’d already done plenty research about the inner doings of hell independently, but the answers he found probably only led to more questions.

 

“Yes,” the man spoke up, his voice saccharine and calm, “About the overlords, you are one, correct?”

 

“Indeed I am,” Alastor arched his brow.

 

“Which overlords should we stay away from, if we want to avoid trouble, then?” The man asked, not letting a glimpse of his intentions show on his face.

 

“What to avoid? Well, one you shouldn’t have to worry about is Rosie, a true, yet dangerous, sweetheart through and through,” Alastor lied, right through his teeth, a lie the man didn’t seem to buy whatsoever, but he pressed on,

 

“But the ones you should surely avoid if you wish to avoid trouble are the Vees: Valentino, Velvette, and Vox.”

 

“How come?” One of his pesky cat children, the red one, spoke up, the sudden absence of his dragon child ever-so noticeable. Alastor just continued speaking, though.

 

“They’re part of a company called Voxtek, and they’re quite a wretched handful. Especially that Vox, it seems he can’t get his mind off me ever since I declined his pathetic offer to work for him, and he keeps pestering me about it, like he’s convinced himself that I’m his arch nemesis,” Alastor explained, rolling his eyes.

 

This time, the somewhat quiet black-haired man spoke up, in an almost exasperated and annoyed voice, “Sure sounds like someone we know.”

 

The winged man subtly nodded to himself, as though agreeing to a statement only he could hear.

 

In the corner of his eye, he noticed a very familiar TV-head inching nearer, a scamming look on his face, and, if he wasn’t distracted by the man, he surely would’ve noticed the way that that entire group seemed to eye the winged man.

 

——

 

Can you call what Vox was doing stalking? Sure. Does he care? No.

 

Although the White Star was a rather stingy man when it came to giving information, not quite the dumbass loon as Vox had somewhat expected, Vox had managed to gather a somewhat decent profile of this Cale fellow.

 

He knew of the man’s likes: comfort, money, sweets, and he knew of the man’s dislikes: slavery, child abuse and torture.

 

The reason he had gathered these things is so that he could recruit the man and his entourage into Voxtek, where they would surely be of use, especially with how that White Star talked of him.

 

Sure, he had also been warned by the man that Cale Henituse worked for no man, but that just meant he would be stubborn and harder to convince, which would be worth it if it meant he turned this threat into a useful tool.

 

It did mean, however, that Val and his sector at the company would have to be avoided for now, until they could saddle some deals on the man - after all, he isn’t sure how well he’d take it if he saw all the things he disliked in one room.

 

Although he got enough glimpses and moments through phone screens to know when the man was going to be outside and out of the hotel’s reach, he didn’t quite get the part where his mortal fucking enemy would be walking with him.

 

Fucking. Alastor.

 

Vox’s cheeks almost turned red from anger at seeing the man, walking snarkily and freely, as though he didn’t get his ass kicked by the First Man, fucking Adam.

 

It made his blood boil.

 

Right, he couldn’t get distracted by that piece of shit bastard, and if things went exceptionally well, he could even corner the fuck in his company and fuck him up for good measure.

 

“Why, is that you Alastor? And who are the lovely men you have with you?” Vox faked the most stunning smile he could possibly manage, made for appealing to any audience he spoke to.

 

“Why Vox, what a terrible sight to befall my eyes! What a shame to meet you today!” Alastor replied, his teeth clenched into a cheek-burning smile.

 

The man next to him, however, seemed completely relaxed, smiling and waving as he took his hand out to shake Vox’s palm. “Lovely to meet you, so you’re Vox? Like the Overlord? I’m Cale, and this is Choi Han, what a great fortune to meet such a powerful demon such as yourself on this fine day!”

 

The black-haired man, Choi Han, simply looked away, seemingly unbothered by the scene before him, and the cats he was told about were acting normally, as cats do, hung around the guard dog’s shoulders, completely unlike what the White Star had said.

 

“Oh, what a charming sir you are! Say, why don’t you come around and look around my company? Perhaps you can find yourself a job there, our wages are second to none!” Vox claimed, the smile of an experienced business man on his face, a small whir of TV static in the air as he talked.

 

Alastor looked more than ready to fuck Vox up and leave, but perhaps the mind control worked, because before he could say anything, the man nodded and smiled. “Why, it would be an honour to look around your company, especially when I’ve only heard good things about it. Why not? May Alastor here come with me?”

 

Vox was glad that he was bringing Alastor with him, convincing himself it’s because he could get a proper jab and a chance at kidnapping the man this way, and not for any other reason. The deer man did not look amused, but still kept that smile on his face.

 

“But of course, come, come, you have plenty to see.”

 

Perhaps this Cale was truly more of a sucker than he’d thought.

 

—-

 

Cale was by no means falling for this man’s bullshit.

 

Then why was he willingly listening to this man’s bullshit? Especially when mind control didn’t work on him because of his dominating aura? Well, to put it simply,

 

Cale was bored.

 

Plus, it was a good opportunity to learn more about whatever threat this man might try and pose to Cale’s attempts at redemption. Not to mention, he kept giving him sweets likened to his own tastes, something he should have no way of knowing.

 

He’s not dumb enough to miss the drones, the way the TVs and phones would have little static shocks, the way it felt like someone was trying to listen in. For that reason, he didn’t reveal any proper details about himself, who would?

 

However, this man knew things about him that he did not show at the hotel, so there was likely someone giving him information.

 

The question was who, but he was sure he was likely to discover that out during his little tour of the place, and when the man leading him would get over whatever little crush he had over the deer man beside Cale, who clearly hated the fucker.

 

Deep in his heart, Cale was glad that the White Star was cursed, because it meant that Cale would never have to worry about something as strange as this.

 

“And these are the studios, where we film our shows,” Vox announced, opening the door, and offering a silent glare signalling obedience to his poor workers, who put on smiles and waved at Cale, before Vox closed the door, going through branch after branch.

 

Cale did notice a couple of doors with tape and cloths over them, which read “OUT OF SERVICE”, though the fabric was transparent enough for Cale to be able to read the start of a word that children should not be aware of. Choi Han seemed to catch on too, because he was making sure that the cats weren’t able to read that word, and Cale subtly held Raon (who was invisible this entire time) close, ensuring he didn’t read that word either.

 

‘Woah, weak human, these workers are so scared of this boxhead. Does he hurt them? Does he abuse them?’ Raon asked in Cale’s head, his own experiences with abuse resurfacing, to which Cale responded with a slightly solemn look.

 

A quick glance at Alastor seemed to say that he was taking in quite a bit from this trip too.

 

They ended up stopping by the fashion wing, where the opened door revealed a decently stylish woman with twin, pink pigtails.

 

“Are you taking the piss? I said mid 70’s, not the fucking seventeen hundreds,” she spat, a disappointed scowl on her face as she addressed her designers.

 

“This is Velvette, she’s in charge of the fashion wing.”

 

Velvette looked Cale up and down, nodding approvingly, apparently accepting of his fashion choices (which were obviously clothes picked out by Ron, and thus, beautifully put together), but frowning disappointedly when she looked at Choi Han.

 

“Are you wearing a bin bag? That’s just embarrassing mate, you’d look better in blue, not that fucking ashy black you’re in, honestly mate go change,” Velvette commented, handing Choi Han a business card and a coupon, before walking back to start barking orders at her fashionistas again.

 

Choi Han inspected the two items before shoving them in his pockets.

 

Velvette is right, Choi Han would look good in blue.

 

When they were just about to leave, Velvette leaned in to whisper something to Vox, that sounded suspiciously like “Keep him away from Val, I hear he likes faces like his.”

 

Cale was not dumb enough to not research the overlords, and he did not like the implication of a porn director ‘liking’ a ‘face like his’. Not that he liked porn directors in the first place, considering all the shady shit people like that always did to their workers.

 

He remembers the articles from his life as Kim Rok Soo, ones he read to pass the time, and they were not pretty. Not that it only applied to Korea, especially not when it happened with greedy nobles always looking for more money too. He’s glad to say that he’s taken care of the many that he ended up finding.

 

Eventually, Vox leads them to his office, a giant room surrounded by TV’s and a fish tank in the back, an electric shark creature whirring on by. He sits down in his grandiose spinny chair and has Cale sit down on a decently comfortable chair whilst Alastor just stands, keeping oddly quiet for someone who kept mocking and insulting Vox the whole way through this tour.

 

“So, what do you th-“

 

They’re interrupted by a slam, revealing none other than the White fucking Star.

 

‘Fucking knew it.’

 

“Cale Henituse? And that Choi Han bastard? What a fucking surprise!” That fucker laughed, his change in appearance since dying quite obvious.

 

For a second, Cale internally freaked out, not an inkling of emotion showing on his face, until he looked at that man’s annual rings and realised that there was just one, a black, charred one, signifying his last chance at life.

 

This meant that there was no issue with killing the man, which calmed Cale down immensely.

 

That, and the fact that the man had no authority in this world, no influence, no years of planning. He was thrown at the bottom without a cheat sheet.

 

Cale simply sighed. “Is he an employee too?” Cale asked, exasperated and tired of this man already, as Choi Han revealed his sword, free from it’s scabbard, the cats and Raon clearly on edge.

 

‘Don’t be scared, weak human! We’ll fuck him up if he tries anything!’

 

He could see the way that Alastor’s and Vox’s attention turned solely on them, as though they were trying to understand and absorb any information from this interaction.

 

Fine, if they wanted a show, a show they would get.

 

“I will say, it is surprising, seeing you walk with your head so high. Last time I saw you, you were a confused mess, sputtering on the floor like a crazy bastard,” Cale stated, with an even and unbothered tone in his voice.

 

The face that bastard made was not one of anger or even of amusement. It’s an expression he didn’t think he’d ever see on that fucker’s face. It was a grin and.

 

Barrow was fucking blushing.

 

Cale thought he might puke at the sight.

 

“Henituse, don’t you see? We’re fated to be. Never to part, never to separate. We were made to be together,” Barrow explained, his head titled to the side.

 

‘What the fuck am I hearing right now.’

 

“Did? Did that slap? The one I gave you when you were still alive? Fuck with your head too much? Did stabbing you give you some sort of brain injury? Bastard, do you hear yourself?” Cale spat, looking at the man with pure and utter disgust.

 

It was then that he came to the realisation that, yes, the White Star’s curse killed anyone he loved, but, how would that work when the one he ‘loved’ was technically already ‘dead’ by this world’s means?

 

‘What a cursed fucking loophole.’

 

Cale sighed, tired, yet relieved at least at the knowledge that this strange bastard couldn’t do shit to him in his state, and he wanted desperately to keep it that way.

 

“Look, we’ll be leaving. I’ll take you up on your offer if my wage is a solid 200 gold bars per hour, how about that?” Cale stood up, grabbing Alastor and Choi Han by the wrist as Raon teleported them away, not even trying to give Vox the chance to negotiate.

 

Alastor, in the meantime, reconfirmed his suspicion that this man was much more than he let on.

 

—-

 

Vox was pissed. Things were going so well, right until that White Star bastard decided to barge in at the worst fucking time.

 

“WHAT! Was that about! I almost fucking had him!” Vox screamed, enraged by the matter at hand, electricity streaming from his hands at the force of his anger.

 

The soulless man before him just rolled his eyes, not an ounce of fear nor shame. “He works for no man, or have you not realised? He didn’t intend to take you up on your offer since the beginning.”

 

Well of course he noticed that, but he didn’t expect him to fucking teleport out? The building was damn secure, and teleportation spells and the such should not have worked without some sort of pushback, especially in his office at this time.

 

If he said no, he was more than prepared to capture Alastor, who would be surely weakened by that staff of his breaking, and the man next to him, who, although strong, would likely be overpowered by their collective strength.

 

When he heard the word ‘dragon’, and didn’t even feel it’s presence in the room in the first place, how was he supposed to gather that it was some sort of demon that could teleport as easily as that?

 

He doesn’t know when Val and Velvette got into his office, but they simply did, Val offering him a glass of wine, each of them giving their unwanted take on the situation.

 

“What a useless bum, I could’ve used someone who can actually fucking dress for once you fucking dickhead,” Velvette rolled her eyes, glaring at the White Star from her spot on the couch.

 

“Voxxy, Voxxy, relax, relax. You’ll get him on our side, and that walking tampon of a man Alastor, too. I know just how to get bitches like that to behave,” Val drawled, his voice calm and sultry, clear with the implications.

 

For some reason, Vox can’t imagine an encounter between Val and that man that would go well, each one with Val losing a wing, and the look on the White Star’s face only seems to confirm that thought.

 

Vox started to think about what do about all this, one decision absolutely made adamant.

 

‘The other overlords absolutely cannot know about this.’

 

For some reason, it felt like God truly hated him that day.

Notes:

Guys I wrote this after waking up from a wonderful nap please don’t diss my shitty writing today 😭

Chapter 4: Tea (except that’s not fucking tea)

Summary:

Tea parties!

Notes:

Not the happiest with this chapter tbh but I keep forcing myself to cook the snacks on their way to the main course

At Alastor and Rosie’s next mandatory tea party, Alastor saved no expense.

 

“Rosie, why, you’ll never believe what happened,” Alastor began, his grin somewhat more genuine.

 

“Do go on, Alastor. You know how I love the tea,” Rosie chuckled elegantly, an intrigued expression on her face as she sipped away at the contents of her cup, which, were not simply tea.

 

“Vox was utterly embarrassed yesterday, and he ended up giving me and some friends a rather informative tour of his company. Even offered a few coupons.” Alastor answered, almost cackling at the glimpse of Vox’s face as they left in some sort of teleportation stunt.

 

“Vox? Why, doesn’t he hate you? Surely you’re not hiding something from me?” Rosie smiled, but Alastor could feel the chains of a deal tearing at his neck.

 

“But of course not. Surely you’re aware of how Charlie’s hotel is doing? Well, it’s brought in a couple new guests, and it seems they’ve caught Vox’s attention. That, and Vox has a new conspirator.” Alastor stated, taking a sip of ‘tea’ as he caught his breath.

 

“That conspirator also seems to have quite a rich history with the new guests, specifically a certain red-haired man. Cale Henituse, is his name. He has three rather… lovely… kids, and a rather dangerous guard dog.”

 

Rosie clapped her hands together. “Surely you’d arrange a meeting? A good cup of tea is never bad, after all! Sounds like such a charming young fellow.” Her smile was toothy and sharp, and she was clearly looking forward to meeting such an interesting individual.

 

What great fun!

 

“If the tea party goes well, I might just invite a few other friends to join. The more the merrier, after all!” The woman added, causing Alastor’s grin to intensify.

 

Great fun indeed.

 

—-

 

Cale was getting rather pissed off lately.

 

He’d been holding his wings back using the Sound of the Wind ancient power to a manageable degree, as his control over them was still quite lacking.

 

Although he wasn’t bashing into things with them, they’d always jut up and reveal him when he was hiding something or feeling a certain way, for that reason, he held them back during his visits outside and when he was starting to somewhat get to know the hotel’s inhabitants.

 

Now that he was in a more stable place, he decided to let his wings go, and let them breathe a little, as all that pressure on them surely wasn’t doing them any good.

 

(That, and Choi Han had convinced him to at least try.)

 

This of course had the unfortunate side effect of encouraging his kids to surprise him and tease him, as well as other inhabitants to do the same, finding his wing’s reactions ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’.

 

For example, this morning, the kids kept jumping at him, causing his wings to stir up in surprise as he went to catch them, or at least prepare himself to take the brunt of their weight.

 

This then caused Vaggie to comment on the intricate, black feather of his wings, causing them to curl in at the compliment.

 

This only led to other’s commenting about how ‘shy’ he was to receiving compliments, which only led to Choi Han venting about how flustered he always got when people complimented him.

 

Lucifer then started teasing him, which only encouraged Angel Dust to tease him too, and although he’s sure that Charlie’s compliment was genuine, that only made his wings react more.

 

He thought he was going to die for real this time.

 

Then Niffty, the maid, commented excitedly about how pretty his hair is, the same colour of blood, and Cale felt his wings stiffen up a little at the excited, dangerous way she grabbed at the sleeve of his leg.

 

Thankfully, Alastor came in a that moment, causing his wings to relax in relief, before the deer-man easily announced some bothersome news to Cale.

 

“Cale, a good friend of mine, Rosie, wishes to have a tea party with you. Just you, if there’s any issue with that?” Alastor tilted his head, to which Cale just nodded.

 

Cale did not spend much time getting ready to leave to see this woman, because he’d already done plenty research about her. She was, by all means, a second Jopis. Elegant and beautiful on the surface, but a vicious, bloodthirsty beast on the inside.

 

That’s ignoring the fact that Rosie is a literal cannibal.

As much as he didn’t want to go, something told Cale he didn’t much of a choice.

 

Thankfully, he had experience dealing with people like that.

 

—-

 

It didn’t take particularly long for Alastor and his guest to arrive, the air around them relaxed and casual, but still elegant and proper, the air of a true upperclassman.

 

“Come in, come in, don’t stand there waiting! Alastor, would you mind leaving us?” Rosie insisted, watching as Alastor eyed her for a moment before leaving, knowing he could do nothing to disagree.

 

Seems her pet was behaving. Good.

 

She watched as the red-haired man sat down, his great, large black wings curving around him to rest, the strange horns on his head shining beautifully in the light.

 

“I’m Cale Henituse, lovely to meet you, Miss Rosie.” The man smiled, the expression almost blinding on his face, bowing as he sat, all in respect to her.

 

“Lovely to meet you as well, what a charming young man you are! Please, please, relax. Drink some blood!” Rosie insisted, like a good host.

 

She could see the way his wings moved in a tinge of disgust at the word ‘blood’, though his face stayed as perfect and stone-like as before.

 

“So, why have you decided to invite me for tea, if I may be so blunt to ask?” Cale Henituse inquired, his tone sweet and saccharine, gentle and calm.

 

Rosie’s grin, although perfectly elegant, turned toothy and shark-like in an instant. “I heard that Vox invited you to have a look around his company. Apparently your departure left him feeling quite upset.”

 

“Oh? Is that so? My, what a shame. I truly didn’t mean to upset him. He was quite generous.” The man looked apologetic in every sense of the word, but his wings perked up in an almost happy, cruel way, as though the news replenished him.

 

This only made Rosie more interested. Truly, he was as good an actor as Alastor mentioned.

 

“Say, I hear you brought your children with you on your trip to the factory. Surely that fellow didn’t mistreat them perchance? It would be quite a shame, after all.” Rosie queried, trying to gouge where his loyalties lie.

 

“But of course he didn’t hurt them. We’d have issues if he intended on such a taboo move.” Rosie didn’t have to look at the man’s wings to see how he felt, the look in his eyes revealing it all perfectly, cold and sharp, as though the red-brown of his iris was piercing through her soul.

 

The area around them grew cold and dark for a moment, not too dissimilar from the feeling one feels when death collects them.

 

It disappeared as quickly as it came, his face still smiling, but his eyes no longer staring through her soul. Cale’s wings still arched around him, the feathers on their ends, clearly still displeased by her question.

 

She was right to say that his loyalties lie with his family, a trait that he and a certain weapons dealer have very much in common.

 

“Apologies if that question startled you. How’s your time at the hotel? Is Alastor treating you well? I ask that you find it in your heart to forgive us for our mistakes, as we’re still recovering from our battle against the angels,” Rosie pleaded, sighing as she remembered her own cannibals fighting, several of them dying.

 

(She found it a slight shame that Susan was not among those numbers, though not at all a surprise.)

 

“It’s lovely, thank you. Nobody has been giving me any issues, though it would be nice if Lucifer stopped teasing me so much. Charlie’s a true sweetheart, and Vaggie is an amazing girlfriend for her. Alastor’s quite the gentleman, as he’s been guiding me quite a bit lately, as I’m rather new to hell. It truly must not be easy on him, especially after his battle with the First Man. Poor man, must feel like a bird with clipped wings.” There was a lot to unpack from that single phrase.

 

The first three mentions were made to ensure the connection between them was made clear - they’re likely to be close, or at least an option for this man to turn to if he needs help.

 

The mention of Alastor’s fight with Adam was to make it clear he knew something that he shouldn’t know.

 

Actually, that in itself was something that didn’t seem strange to mention on the surface, except for that last bit. On one hand, it could refer to him being weaker after the battle, or it could refer to him being held back by something. Such as their little deal.

 

Yes, truly, this man was too interesting.

 

—-

 

Cale couldn’t say the chat over tea with Rosie wasn’t interesting, or utterly pointless, because it was useful.

 

It confirmed his suspicions that Alastor had a deeper connection with Rosie than simply ‘friendship’, perhaps one he did not freely consent to.

 

It felt a lot more like a master and a puppet, pulling the strings of her pet as she saw fit, the way she shoo’d him off, a man that wouldn’t take no as an answer not even from Lucifer, the King of Hell, himself. Sure, the look in his eyes was defiant, but he didn’t dare disobey her.

 

What Cale was not a fan of was Rosie’s comment about his children. Sure, she doesn’t seem like the type to hurt kids, but he can’t trust anyone, especially not in a world that isn’t home.

 

Plus, if there’s one thing people tend to forget, it’s that nobody is beyond cruelty. Nothing in this world can be truly gentle and kind, and he himself is living proof of that.

 

Nothing about him is kind.

 

His wings stiffened up as he left with Alastor, making his way back to the hotel.

 

“So, what did Rosie talk to you about, friend? Had a nice conversation over tea?” Alastor hummed, an over exaggerated smile on his face.

 

“You can give that ‘friendship’ thing up, I know she has you on a leash,” Cale commented, watching as the man’s more monstrous side came out, snarling like a threatened predator as he held back, “I can see why she got you, though.”

 

The deer man paused for a moment, letting Cale speak.

 

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re not particularly weak per se, I’ve heard rumours of you killing countless overlords, after all, but your sin is pride. Pride that isn’t entirely unfounded, it’s hard not to think of yourself as some sort of ‘entity above’ when you’ve done the things you’ve done.” Cale was simply speaking the truth, but Alastor almost blue screened.

 

“Rosie is someone who knows how to play people. But her sin isn’t pride. It’s probably more wrath than anything, so of course she knows how to keep a level head. Even a child can kill a professional if they’re at their weakest, and Rosie is by no means a ‘child’. All you can do is try to keep a level head, something you seem to be struggling with.”

 

If Cale wasn’t deep in thought thinking about what Rosie actually was, maybe he would’ve noticed the sparkle in Alastor’s eyes, and the way his grin almost slipped off his face.

 

—-

 

 

“Vox? Played by a no-name sinner? Tell me why I’m not surprised,” Carmilla simply arched her brow, unimpressed.

 

Things have been going rather steadily recently, especially after their victory against heaven. Still, Carmilla couldn’t help the feeling in her gut, which was something heavy and foreboding.

 

“Rather far from a ‘no-name sinner’, Carmilla, dear. He’s rather cunning, quite threatening for a newcomer to Hell, too,” Rosie replied, a tinge of amusement in her voice as she sipped on her ‘tea’.

 

It was strange for Rosie to talk so highly of someone without them having some sort of potential, but for a newcomer to be ‘threatening’? To an Overlord like her?

 

Zestial must’ve noticed the slight doubt in Carmilla’s eyes, because he immediately began to reassure her.

 

“Old friend, when has Rosie been wrong about the potential of a sinner before?  Give her a chance.”

 

Carmilla simply sighed, allowing the woman, who let out an amused laugh, to continue on.

 

“He made it perfectly clear what he holds close, it’s as if nothing else in the world could even equate to it’s worth in his heart. His family: his kids, and his guard. You should’ve heard him speak. That, and his aura even gave me quite a fright.”

 

His aura? It seems even Zestial was caught off guard by her admittance.

 

That, and she could immediately respect the man. Her daughters, the dears, were the most important things in hell to her. She would rather be torn limb from limb than allow them to be hurt.

 

Perhaps she herself could meet the man, especially with all the business she’s been doing with that hotel lately.

 

That aside, she was curious.

 

“What did this aura feel like, then?” She spoke up, looking into Rosie’s empty eyes.

 

“Cold. What you would describe as death, I suppose. Rather chilling.” There was an almost faraway look on her face as she answered, causing Carmilla to arch her brow in thought.

 

Death. What does death feel like?

 

The look on Zestial’s face, resigned yet pained at the thought, did not bring any good thoughts to mind.

 

—-

 

Fuck. What does God have against him to do him like this?

 

His only hope in this world was that perhaps that mistake of a recruitment (kidnapping) attempt would stay somewhat decently under wraps, doing his best to ensure none of his employees would let even a peep slip.

 

Whilst he did expect the overlords to learn of that attempt and gossip about it to some degree, lowering his already frustratingly low respect and fear among them, somehow it got out to the lesser demons.

 

People. Wouldn’t. Stop. Teasing. Him. About. It.

 

On Voxtagram, he’ll find comments of people yapping on about “how can he protect us when he couldn’t even keep two twinks inside?” getting moderated at record speeds.

 

Even that bastard, White Star, the one who caused this bullshit, keeps fucking yapping on!

 

“Personally, I wouldn’t have let them slip on by like that. Especially not that bastard!”

 

Acting like he’s not the fucking reason they got away.

 

Then he started ranting about that nemesis of his. Vox blankly wonders if the man is so obsessed with the guy because he’s an upgraded version of himself.

 

The constant reminders of Vox’s miserable failure made him think about just how smug Alastor must be right now. Probably snickering, with that damn annoying laugh of his, overjoyed that he got a jab like that at Vox’s reputation even when weakened.

 

God, how he could just.

 

No. Vox’s cheeks were red with anger and frustration. He had to calm down.

 

That aside, he hadn’t seen Val all day, though he trusted that the moth man could keep himself safe, he was an overlord, after all, not an easy opponent.

 

Surely, he was fine. Nothing else could go wrong today.

Notes:

Val is going home in fucking crutches

Chapter 5: Local victim bites back (bug shrivels up)

Summary:

Chapter title.

Notes:

Short one but it’s worth it trust

Angel Dust didn’t really know what to think of Cale Henituse.

 

Guy is pretty, has some annoyin’ but cute kids, and keeps gettin’ the attention of all these overlords and higher shmucks.

 

Started with Vox, Alastor, Rosie, and apparently even Carmilla Carmine paid him a visit.

 

He decided to try and get to know the guy a lil’ more, and to blow off steam, cos’ Angel Dust is not ready to go back to Val, especially after that last time at the club.

 

Obviously, he dragged the guy and his dog to a nightclub, hopin’ to get a few free drinks, and talk a little.

 

The kids stayed at the hotel, of course, ‘cos there’s no way he’s gonna drag some kids to a club like that, like, he’s fucked up, but he ain’t that fucked up.

 

There were people lookin’ over at ‘em, lust in their eyes, but that guard dog of a man was practically death glaring anyone who looked a little too long at his red-haired boss, who, was drinkin’ a little too much.

 

No, actually, guy was on his 8th drink, and he didn’t even seem drunk, just had a flushed face, but you could see it in his eyes: he was basically sober.

 

“So, how’s your ‘boss’?” The man asked, wine-red hair draped down his bare shoulders, bottle in hand.

 

“Keep’s callin’ me. Calmed down an bit after the whole fightin’ business. Not excited to go see him again, nope,” Angel sighed, taking a long sip of alcohol.

 

“Oh? How come?” The man asked, though he clearly had some sort of idea as to why he wouldn’t want to see the guy.

 

“Last time I met ‘im, I stood up for a pal. Not excited for what he’ll do this time. He used to be into waterboardin’, and apparently he also wants some breath play, and whatever the fuck ‘watching them fuck, scars all over’ is.” Angel basically vented.

 

The look on Cale’s face could cut fucken’ mountains, guy looked pissed. The feathers of his wings were standing on their ends, and it seems his dog heard too, because the man just stood there, jaw on the floor.

 

“That’s just fucking torture. Why are you just fine with that?” He asked, a look of pure disgust and anger on his face.

 

“It’s easier. Don’t need people gettin’ involved in things that ain’t their problem. Charlie tried that once.”

 

Angel didn’t want to bother wasting time. He always comes back to Val in some way, as much as it fucken’ sucks - it’s just easier to be a cock’ suckin’ hoe than try and fail.

 

He can’t afford to go back, he’s too deep in this hole.

 

Perhaps Angel’s a bit more drunk than he thought, ’cos he ended up sayin’ that without a second thought.

 

“So? It’s not a waste of time to save yourself. It’s not a waste of time to get better. It’s not a waste of time to try. You’ve done it before, haven’t you? You’ve stood up for your friend. That’s your first step, so crawl out of this hole you’ve dug for yourself,” Cale spat, but the look in his eye was sincere, genuine, empathetic, like he’s been there before.

 

It was different to what Husk had told him, when he’d opened up to him.

 

Maybe it’s ’cos it came from a man who was still stuck in that hole he’d dug for himself, but these were words comin’ from a man who’d crawled out using the torn soles of his feet.

 

Before he got a word in, maybe to do a back n’ forth, show the guy that Val’s a fucken’ overlord, and not some rando fuck up on the street, the moth himself slammed the door open, entourage of whores in tow.

 

“Angel! How long do you think I can take the disrespect? I was nice because of your war bullshit, but enough is enough. Maybe you’ll remember your place after the next shoot I have planned, ah?” Val threatened, causing many demons to cower, intimidated by the Overlord.

 

Cale, however, stared at the man with a cold look in his eyes, cheeks still flushed pink, leaning his head on his hand, his other one still gripping a bottle.

 

Angel felt trapped. Fuckin’, what is this shit show?

 

“Angel.” Cale called out, voice even, but with a clear undertone of disgust. “Will you take your next step? Or are you going to stay a victim forever?”

 

Val’s attention immediately snapped over to the red-haired man. “Aren’t you the one Vox tried to strike a deal with? Saving yourself for a better deal master, are you? With a face and body like your’s, there’s plenty of bitches who’d want to see you scream.”

 

Angel didn’t know whether Cale was just fuckin’ dumb or what. He’s gonna get his ass destroyed, maybe in more ways than one, for a saddo who can’t even stand up for himself.

 

Choi Han seemed to have made his choice, because he clearly had no intention of letting’ that moth man take one good step near his boss.

 

“I think I feel the same way about you. Plenty of people who want to see you scream, though maybe not in the fun way.”

 

Cale simply sighed, shaking his head in disappointment, “The difference between us is that I get to see that sight, and you don’t.”

 

The air around them went fuckin’ cold. Icy. Painful. It hurt to fuckin’ breathe, like he was dyin’ all over again. Even Val seemed to feel it.

 

The duo in front of them didn’t seem affected though, and without warnin’, a loud snap echoed in the room.

 

The vibe disappeared, and Angel looked over to see Choi Han fuckin’ breakin’ Val’s knees, a look of surprise and anger on the moth man’s face.

 

An enshrouding mist of perfume began to desperately mask the man’s presence, the strong effects of a sleep-inducing drug causing almost everyone in the club to drop like flies.

 

Didn’t work on either guy though, or Angel, who must’ve been under that man’s aura or whatever, and Choi Han went for Val’s arms next.

 

“Did it without me asking, good job, Choi Han,” Cale praised the man, nodding, all nonchalant like it’s just another Tuesday for him.

 

The dog over there fuckin’ beamed at the praised, chucklin’, ears and tail raised, as he stepped back.

 

Cale looked over at Angel, passin’ him a sharp-lookin’ rock, as he told him straight.

 

“Start crawling out that hole, then.”

 

Angel just took the rock, not having a single clue as to what to say.

 

Val must’ve woken up from his stupor, ‘cos he was lookin’ Angel with a look Angel never thought he’d see on the moth.

 

Fear? Desperation? It didn’t feel real. None of this shit felt real.

 

If it was just a dream, then... maybe he’d take that step.

 

“Angel, mi amor, let’s talk-“ he was cut off with a sharp jab at the side, clearly biting back the pain so as not to show weakness.

 

“You’ve talked enough, Val.”

 

“I own you, Angel Dust! This shit’ll end and you’ll be back in my studio, like the sad whore you are! Make this shit easier for yourself, dammit!” Val spat, face red.

 

How many times has he dreamed of doing this? How many times has he wanted to be in control?

 

He’s already gonna die after this, so if he’s gonna die, he might as well make it fuckin’ worthwhile.

 

Val’s scream echoed throughout the sleeping club, as one of his antenna’s tore, leaving him crumbling in pain and anger, tryin’ to claw with all he had, unable to do so with his broken arms and legs.

 

Angel had already learned to block out the screams once before, so the rest of the beating was done without a hitch.

 

*

 

They ended up stealin’ a few more bottles of wine and fuckin’ off, breathing in the fresh air of Hell’s night sky, or whatever it’s called.

 

“That felt… good,” Angel admitted, tone deep and emotional, earning a content nod from the red-haired that stood quietly before him, and a happy smile from the black-haired man cleaning the sheath of his sword, which he used to break Val’s limbs.

 

“What did your contract with him entail?” Cale asked, offering a bottle of that damn stolen wine, wings fluttering in the cold breeze.

 

“My soul is his. If he wants a job done, the chains ‘round my neck tell me I do it. Any shooting, any scene, don’t matter. I just have to do it.”

 

“Then don’t let him talk. Go to the people you trust. Go to Charlie, the literal princess of Hell. Go to your friends, like Husk. Go to the people who would do anything to protect you, and trust me, they exist. Being the victim is not fun, take control of your life. You’ve already started, so don’t abandon your progress so soon.”

 

And with that, Cale simply ushered them to start walking back to the hotel, complainin’ about how tired he was, like he didn’t just say and do somethin’ that would change Angel’s life, er, death, forever from here on out.

 

Angel just sighed, a happy, exasperated sigh.

 

He’d never felt this free before.

 

—-

 

Photos of a broken-apart Valentino trudging his way back to the V Tower went absolutely viral.

 

Rumours of a red-haired man, his black-haired guard and Hell’s whore, Angel Dust himself, being responsible for the man’s sorry state spread like wildfire.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Vox complained, more worried about the issue of Val being incapacitated than anything else.

 

Yes, he did have an image to maintain, but he didn’t have mind control just for him not to use it at times like this.

 

“At least he’s still alive,” That White Star bastard added, painfully unhelpfully, earning an eye roll from Velvette, who stood leaning in the door way.

 

“Why do we keep this fucking nonce here again?” She asked, a valid question, to which Vox had just one solid answer.

 

Cale Henituse is still a fucking threat, an even bigger one considering getting him to join their side was no longer a question.

 

Plus, a quick glance at Val’s battered, beaten and torn body, like an insect rotting in the midsummer sun, was even more, unneeded, evidence that the man was capable of much more than just any ‘strong’ demon.

 

Unfortunately, the White Star was their only means of salvation here.

 

“So, what are your next steps, your highness?” the man mocked, rolling his eyes, which was hard to see because of the mask covering the top of his face, unlike the giant, shit-eating, toothy grin he couldn’t hide if he wanted to.

 

“First, we need Val to get better again. Then, we can do some shit about that hotel. Until then, keep appearances up. Pretend this never happened.” Vox sighed, already feeling a headache setting in.

 

Let’s hope God did not decide to fuck with him again.

Notes:

I have no specific update schedule (if I even remember to make this a multi-chapter fanfic, though I do intend on it because I love this plot sm y’all have no idea)

Thank my lovely friend of a Vox stan for ensuring my Vox characterisation isn’t lacking ❤️ you have my heart.