When The Dead Start Walking

by St0rmCutt3r

Summary:

Stolas woke up, expecting his family and friends to be by his side, having come to take him out of this coma. However, what greeted him was an empty hospital room. That was fine; he was sure his friends and family were just busy. He would go to them. As he walked through the strangely deserted hospital, which seemed to have seen better days, his one and only thought was to reach his beloved daughter, Octavia. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too hard.

What he didn't expect to see was the dead walking and owing the place. Man, it's definitely going to be a lot harder then he thought.

Notes:

This series will be inspired by the series called "The Walking Dead season 1 and 2 " which was released on October 31, 2010 and October 16, 2011.

~~~

Warnings Include: Gun Violence, Death, Murder Attempt, Blood & Gore

Chapter 1: Hold On, Holy Ghost

Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia was seen mounting a brand new car. He looked around in confusion; usually, at this time, the highway of Pride was more crowded, much like the terrifying hospital he had just left, which seemed to have gone through a war zone. He shook his head and ignored the graveyard of cars. He needed to get back home to his daughter.

 

 

As he passed a deserted gas station, a chill ran through his feathers. The gas station, like the highway, was empty. He noticed cars arranged in a circle, enclosing a camp littered with clothes and trash, as if it hadn’t been cleaned for months.

 

 

The air smelled of death.

 

 

But Stolas pressed on. He managed to get out of his car, noting that the vehicles surrounding the ‘camp’ served as some sort of defense against an unknown threat. As he peered through some car windows, what he saw made him stifle a bird-like screech. Inside one car was a gruesome sight: two imps, both dead.

 

 

Their skin was rotting as flies buzzed around, enjoying their feast of flesh. Stolas quickly recoiled from the scene, covering his mouth as vomit threatened to escape, causing his feathers to puff up. What in Lucifer’s name was happening?

 

 

Once the feeling of disgust subsided, he continued until he saw a sign on the door of the gas station, its glass broken. Using his magic, he brought the sign closer to read it, and what he saw puzzled him. The sign was barely legible, smeared with a black substance Stolas preferred not to identify. The writing stated:

 

NO GAS

 

NO FOOD

 

NO SUPPLIES

 

FUCK OFF

 

 

Stolas scoffed in disbelief at the rude message on the sign, returning it to its place. However, as he was about to head back to his car, he heard faint footsteps, prompting him to rush toward their source. Finally, someone who could tell him what the fuck was going on! He didn’t care if he got robbed in the process.

 

 

As he approached the source of the footsteps, Stolas saw what appeared to be the back of a little imp girl. She wore a pink nightgown that was torn and dirty. Odd growling and moaning noises emanated from her, and he sensed something was terribly wrong.

 

 

He noticed she had a missing horn, with blood oozing from the injury, causing him to wince. “L-little girl,” he nervously called out as he watched her slowly lean down to retrieve a ripped teddy bear from the ground. Suddenly, a thought struck him like one of Stella’s hard slaps: where were this girl’s parents?

 

 

“Hey,” Stolas tried again, this time with a warmer tone, which caused the girl to stop walking and stand eerily still. He counted that as a small victory. “Where are your parents? Do you know what happened…” However, his question trailed off as the girl turned toward him, her growls becoming more hungry and angry.

 

 

Stolas froze. What greeted him wasn’t a child—it couldn’t be. Though she was shaped and dressed like one, her skin was pale, not the strong red typical of an imp’s skin. No, it was white, from head to toe. Her left cheek was missing, replaced by a large bite mark that seemed infected and swarmed with flies.

 

 

Her eyes were entirely white, matching her skin. What had happened to her? “Little girl, do you want help?” Stolas asked, his fatherly concern overwhelming him. “Where are your parents?” But the girl didn’t respond; her growls intensified, sounding almost like a wild animal. And just like one, she began moving toward him, her mouth making biting motions.

 

 

“Little girl, stop! I don’t want to hurt you!” Stolas pleaded once more, but his pleas were ignored as the imp quickened her pace. He had no choice. “I am sorry,” he murmured with guilt as he raised his hand, closed his eyes, and chanted a spell.

 

 

When he opened his eyes, he gasped and clutched his hospital gown. The girl lay there, lifeless, his magic having left a large, gory hole in her head, right where her brain should have been. “I am so sorry,” Stolas said, unable to hold back his tears. He cried as a troubling thought crossed his mind:

 

 

What if that had been Octavia?

 

 

He couldn’t help it. He broke down.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

 

Timeline: Few Months Earlier

 

“You had another fight with Stella, didn’t you?” Vassago asked Stolas with concern, noticing the angry red marks across his cheek. Stolas nodded in response. “Why?” Vassago inquired, prompting Stolas to sigh deeply.

 

 

“Octavia wanted to go to a sleepover with one of her few friends, but Stella wouldn’t allow it. She grounded Octavia for a month after she started crying, which led me to let her go, and you know what happened next,” Stolas explained, causing Vassago to nod as he took a sip of his tea. “She turned her anger on you. Octavia ran and hid, and you got smacked,” Vassago concluded.

 

 

“Yeah…” Stolas replied with a defeated sigh, covering his face with his hands and massaging it. Vassago gently patted his friend’s shoulder. Before he could say anything else, shots rang out, causing the two Goetia members to become fully alert. Suddenly, a shark wielding an angelic weapon and his gang emerged from the shadows and began shooting at them.

 

 

Vassago was fortunate; he managed to dodge a few bullets and even created a shield. But as he tried to protect himself and fend off their attackers, one of the sharks landed a hit on Stolas, eliciting a painful yell as he fell to the ground, the green grass now stained black. “Stolas!” Vassago cried out as he finally eliminated the threat.

 

 

Ignoring the commotion gathering around them, Vassago picked up the injured Stolas, disregarding how his friend’s black blood stained his expensive attire. “H-hey, Stolas! Keep your eyes open, do you understand?” Vassago desperately held tightly to Stolas’s wound. “Stay with me, keep your eyes wide open for me, alright?” As Vassago pleaded, he heard the incoming sirens. “Help is almost here, just hang on!”

 

 

“Hey buddy…” A tired Vassago greeted the now stable yet comatose Stolas, whose side was wrapped in bandages and connected to IVs and other bags that Vassago cared little about. “I am so sorry for not noticing that you were about to get shot,” Vassago said, trying not to cry as he held Stolas’s cold hand tightly.

 

 

“It’s my fault you’re in here. I should have noticed them coming. I should have acted faster,” Vassago lamented with another sigh. “It’s going to be very difficult to tell this to Octavia. She’ll be devastated. But… it has to be done. I just hope you like those flowers I got you,” Vassago said as he stood up. “Hope you wake up soon,” he murmured as he walked away.

 

Timeline: Now

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Stolas’s weak and raspy voice called out to the hallucination of his best friend, which was slowly fading away. Whatever else Vassago was saying sounded as if he were underwater. Stolas felt his ears ring as he opened his eyes to a very dark room. Was he dreaming? It seemed so real.

 

 

With great effort, he turned his head toward a vase of dead flowers on the nightstand. So it was all a dream. “Vas?” Stolas tried to call out. Nothing.

 

 

He reached for the emergency button and pressed it repeatedly. Nothing. Odd. “Nurse! Doctor!” he called out desperately. Once again: nothing. He looked around and noticed a clock that seemed frozen in time, sending shivers down his spine. A gut feeling told him something was wrong and he wasn't welcome. So, Stolas forced his body to move up.

 

 

Attempting to stand was a mistake. As his weak body rose, a sense of dizziness spread through him, causing his vision to be obscured by a black curtain. He fell to the ground. “Ow…” he murmured, shaking his head to regain his sight.

 

 

“Nurse!” he called out, only to cough and rub his painful throat, which felt as if he’d walked on rubble. But as he suspected, no one came to his aid. He was alone. He pushed himself up, rushed to the bathroom, turned on the sink, and drank the flowing water, which sounded like music to his ears. Though it tasted terrible, he was grateful for that small mercy. Once finished, he closed the tap and wiped the water from his beak, pondering:

 

 

What should he do next?

 

 

The answer was simple: return to Octavia.

 

 

As he walked out of his room into the hallway, he held tightly to his side, noticing multiple beds undone and blocking the doors. He even had to use his magic to move one that obstructed his own door. As he moved, he saw papers scattered around, lights flickering, and a lot of black liquid he couldn’t seem to escape. What had happened here? It was as if an extermination had occurred.

 

 

When Stolas reached the front desk, it was as messy as the hallways. He quickly searched for the phone and managed to find it—a small victory. However, his happiness was short-lived; when he dialed his wife’s number, the line didn’t respond. It was dead. “Shit,” he murmured in frustration, throwing the phone harshly, causing static. He continued walking down the deep, dark hallways, summoning an orb of light to guide him.

 

 

“Stars protect me,” he pleaded. The more he walked, the more he noticed old bullet holes in the walls, stained with blood. He then came face to face with two metal doors wrapped in chains and secured with a wooden board, as if trying to prevent something inside from escaping.

 

 

Stolas gulped as he read the sign on the doors:

 

DON’T OPEN, DEAD INSIDE

 

 

What did that mean? Suddenly, he heard horrifying moaning and growling as the door was banged upon, and hands emerged through the small opening the doors allowed. They were pale, stained with dried blood. Frozen in fear, Stolas came face to face with white eyes devoid of emotion except for one: hunger.

 

 

Stolas let out a low, terrified chirp and quickly backed away from the still-banging door. What was that? He wasn’t going to stay and find out, that’s for sure. Stolas made his way to the elevator, but like everything else, it didn’t work. With a sigh, he found a stairwell. A groan of disappointment escaped him until he suddenly realized he could teleport out of there. How foolish he felt for not thinking of it sooner!

 

 

With a flick of his wrist, Stolas teleported outside. What greeted him was even worse than what he had seen inside. Bodies—there were multiple bodies wrapped up and lined next to each other in rows upon rows. He scrunched his face in visible disgust. Surely the king of Hell wouldn’t allow this, right?

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

After managing to teleport from the horrific scene at the gas station to his palace, he threw the doors open. A sense of dread began to build in his gut. It was too quiet. “Octavia!” he called out for his daughter as he frantically searched every room, every door of his empty palace. Nothing. “Vassago!” he shouted, hoping his friend would answer. Still nothing.

 

 

It was quiet.

 

 

Too quiet.

 

 

He made it to the kitchen and broke down, letting tears fall. He felt defeated. Stolas stood up and numbly made his way out of the palace, continuing to walk through the oddly deserted neighborhood. He didn’t care. As he wandered around, he noticed a limping figure making its way toward him. “Hey…” Stolas said, not wanting to speak but forced to if he wanted to know what was going on and where his daughter and best friend might have gone.

 

 

However, what happened next was unexpected—a loud gunshot echoed, making him flinch as he saw the walking figure collapse to the ground. As Stolas turned to see what had occurred behind him, he was met with a painful blow to the head by a shovel. Yes, he was definitely going to have a concussion. “Mommy!” he heard a terrified child call out. It wasn’t his child; he knew it wasn’t Octavia as he heard a woman scolding the kid.

 

 

Stolas felt his eyes grow heavy and tried to reach out to the child who clearly wasn’t his, only to have his hand smacked away harshly. He winced as a strict, enraged woman’s voice demanded, “Were you bitten? What’s that injury on your side?”

 

 

Stolas couldn’t answer her; her voice felt like knives piercing his skin. He only managed to make eye contact with the child, and before he passed out, he whispered, “Octavia… I found you.” And just like that, he lost consciousness.

 

Chapter 2: Go On, Hold Me Close

Summary:

Stolas finally gets intale on what exactly is going on although it leaves more questions then answers.

Notes:

Warnings Include : Blood, Gore

“Where were you bitten? What’s that injury on your side?” These were the first words Stolas heard as he emerged from the dark abyss of sleep, only to find himself being scrutinized by the intelligent woman who had asked him that question minutes—or perhaps hours—earlier. He coughed slightly, prompting the woman to let out an impatient, lion-like growl.

 

 

“Just a shot,” Stolas explained, though she didn’t seem satisfied. “Why aren’t you satisfied?”

 

 

She huffed, “Not in this hell we’re living in now. Sure, hell was bad before, but now? It’s even worse with this plague. Were you bitten?” she pressed.

 

 

“Bitten by what?” Stolas asked, causing her to chuckle. “Are you serious?” the purple woman asked, crossing her arms.

 

 

“I am… uh, what’s your name?” Stolas awkwardly inquired.

 

 

Mayberry,” the woman answered as she adjusted her glasses, still looking at him with uncertainty. “I’m a sinner, if you’re wondering, but in this new hell, who cares?” she added.

 

 

“Wait, what do you mean by plague?” Stolas asked Mayberry. “Also, who was the kid that hit me on the back of my head?”

 

 

The woman laughed, "Don't tell me you didn’t know? Did you just wake up from a coma or something?” Mayberry asked, and to her great surprise, she saw the owl look down, indicating she was mostly right. She sighed. “Alright, what’s your name, and I’ll tell you whatever I know.”

 

 

After Stolas introduced himself, he was also introduced to Mayberry’s child, whom she had once taught on Earth and now cared for as her own. She shared most of what she knew with him, leaving Stolas even more confused. As he munched on dinner—yes, dinner—she offered him some mac and cheese, and his stomach growled since it had been a long time since his last meal.

 

“So, the sinners and other hellish beings that were brutally killed regenerated and came back, but not like they used to? Instead, they returned as mindless monsters? And if you’re bitten or scratched by them, you turn into one?” he asked.

 

 

Mayberry nodded. “Pretty much, yeah. The only thing that can kill them off completely is angelic weaponry or high-powered magic, but only if you aim for the head.” This made Stolas wince and instinctively reach for his wounded side, something Mayberry noticed. “You got shot by an angelic weapon before everything in hell went to chaos, right?" 

 

 

Stolas nodded. “Yes. My friend Vassago and I were going out because my wife and I had a fight the night before, and she had taken my daughter to school that day. A bunch of bandits ambushed us. I got shot, and, well, you know the rest,” he sighed, lightly tapping the glass plate with his fork.

 

 

Mayberry nodded. “I see. And you believe your friends are still out there?”

 

 

“They have to be,” Stolas said, suddenly losing his appetite and gently pushing the plate forward. As if on cue, Esmer, the girl Mayberry had taken in, announced she was done. Stolas took the liberty of helping wash the dishes; after all, it was the least he could do to thank her for her hospitality.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

After getting everything ready for bed, Stolas sat on a couch where he would sleep, telling Esmer about his life before all this. “So you were a prince!” the little girl exclaimed, amazement lighting up her face as her eyes practically shone in the darkness. It made Stolas chuckle. “Yes, I was. I was known as Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia.”

 

 

“That’s a long ass name,” Esmer said with a chuckle, ignoring Mayberry’s disappointed admonition, “Watch your language!” This only made Esmer laugh even more.

 

 

However, the moment was interrupted when a car alarm went off, causing everyone to freeze. Mayberry was the first to recover; she quickly dimmed the light they were using and pulled the now crying Esmer closer to her. “Shh, it’s alright,” Mayberry tried to comfort and quiet the child as familiar groans echoed in the distance. “They’re attracted to noise,” she explained to a confused-looking Stolas.

 

 

“So the car will bring others toward us?” the owl prince asked, preparing to use his magic just in case.

 

 

Mayberry: “No, not if we stay silent. They travel in groups, mostly like a horde.”

 

 

Stolas: “So what do we do now?”

 

 

Mayberry: “We let them pass. We wait until morning.”

 

 

Stolas didn’t like that answer, but if it kept him alive, what else could he do?

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

The next morning arrived, and true to Mayberry’s words, the creatures had indeed left without any confrontation. “Are you sure they’re dead?” Stolas asked for the tenth time as they stepped outside, the bright red hellish skies signaling daytime.

 

 

“As I said before, they are. The only thing keeping them ‘alive’ is their brain, which is why we aim for the head with angelic weapons or, in your case, high-powered magic. That’s how we kill them completely,” Mayberry explained with an exasperated tone, prompting Stolas to let out a sheepish laugh. “What’s your plan now?” Mayberry asked, eager to change the subject.

 

 

“I’m going back to my palace. I want to see if there’s anything left behind by my daughter—a clue, something indicating she’s still alive,” Stolas said. Before Mayberry could protest, he teleported himself and the mother daughter duo into his empty and cold palace to search for anything he might have missed last time, now with a clear mind and renewed determination.

 

 

He had his mind set on the task, not just for himself but for Octavia and Vassago.

 

 

“Your palace is beautiful!” Esmer exclaimed as she looked around, prompting Stolas to turn to her. “No sinner or imp would be allowed outside any palace, let alone enter one!” she said, which saddened him because it was true. If hell hadn’t descended into chaos, imps and sinners would have been shot on sight if they even thought of entering a palace.

 

 

Stolas shook his head as he heard Mayberry ask, “So you really think they’re still alive?”

 

 

He nodded and rushed to his dusty library, quickly opening a secret compartment that only he and Octavia knew about. It was empty. “They are alive. They’re alive and they’ve left,” he said as he closed the compartment.

 

 

“How do you know?” Mayberry asked.

 

 

“Because the Grimoire isn’t here. It’s a powerful book that only Goetias can possess. My daughter must have taken it with her if they’re still out there.”

 

 

“So you’re saying they’re still alive because of a missing book?” Mayberry questioned skeptically as she and her student followed him. “You know that’s a lot of nonsense.”

 

 

“Octavia and I are the only ones who know where that book is located. She knows most of the spells, so I pray she knows how to handle it,” he said, entering a code into a random door, which opened to reveal rows upon rows of angelic weapons.

 

 

Mayberry whistled in amazement as she watched Stolas arm himself. “I just hope she’s with safe people who won’t take advantage of her and seize the book for themselves,” Stolas said, handing her a few guns.

 

 

“So you’re going?” Mayberry asked, causing Stolas to nod. “But you don’t even—”

 

 

“Mommy!” Esmer called out, waving a piece of paper proudly. “I think I found something that Mr. Stolas might like to read!"

 

 

Stolas quickly shoved the gun he was loading behind his back and took the note from the little girl. After a quick read, he began smiling like a madman. “I’m guessing you have a lead?” Mayberry asked Stolas, who nodded eagerly. “Mind sharing it?” Stolas nodded again and, with shaky hands, began to read the note aloud:

 

"Dear Stolas,

 

My friend, if you’re reading this, Octavia, Stella, and I have fled your palace along with Stella’s brother, Andrealphus. We—I couldn’t wait for you. I am so sorry for letting you get shot. If by some miracle you’re alive and reading this, just know: I am caring for Octavia. Rest assured, I’ll protect her from Stella and her brother as best I can. If you’re reading this, we’ll be gone, but we’ll be at the very rural ends of Pride. Hope to see you soon.

 

Your best friend and daughter, Vassago and Octavia.”

 

 

Tears began to fall onto the paper. Stolas didn’t need to ask; those tears were his. His smile grew wider. He had a destination.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

“So you’re leaving?!” Mayberry yelled as she followed Stolas outside, where he was starting one of the fast cars. “I have to. They’re waiting and expecting me,” Stolas said, his mind already made up as he handed Mayberry the keys to the palace. “These are yours.”

 

 

A stunned Mayberry looked at the golden keys before shaking her head. “I am but a mere sinner. I can’t take that—”

 

 

“Then take it as a ‘thanks for your hospitality’ gift,” Stolas insisted, pressing the keys into her hand, which prompted Mayberry to accept them. “Thank you,” she said with gratitude.

 

 

“You’re welcome. Here, have this too,” Stolas said, handing her a highly expensive, high-frequency radio that she most definitely couldn’t afford. “I’ll radio you every day at dawn. You can answer my calls there. If you need any help or anything at all, call me.”

 

 

Mayberry nodded at his command, thanking him once more. “Take care of your girl,” Stolas told her. “Because this is one messed-up hell we’re all living in."

 

 

“You got that right,” Mayberry agreed as she watched Stolas start the car, place his hands on the wheel, and… hesitate. “You alright?” Mayberry asked, leaning on the window.

 

 

Stolas: “Are you sure you and Esmer don’t want to come with me? I’m sure my friend—”

 

 

“Just give us a few days,” Mayberry promised. “I can teach Esmer how to shoot, and I’ll be a bit better than now."

 

 

Stolas accepted that answer, even though he somehow felt she might be lying. “Alright. You know when I’ll be on the radio, right?” he asked again, seeking reassurance.

 

 

“Every day at dawn,” Mayberry reassured the tense Stolas. “I won’t forget.” She nodded, causing Stolas to relax slightly. “Now go find your girl.”

 

 

“And you protect yours,” Stolas said to Mayberry as he drove off.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

A few hours had passed, though Stolas wasn’t sure how many, as he drove along the deserted, apocalyptic road. He seemed to be the only living soul in sight. Without taking his eyes off the road, he reached for the walkie-talkie, trying to find any channel that wasn’t just white noise. He hoped someone would answer him.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Meanwhile, a camp a few miles away was bustling with activity until one of their walkie-talkies began to crackle and buzz, almost as if it were trying to speak. A spider demoness rushed over to grab it. “Hello, yes? I can hear you just fine!” she exclaimed excitedly, her eyes filled with hope as she realized she was speaking to someone outside the camp, drawing everyone’s attention.

 

 

“Can anyone hear me?” the voice on the radio called out.

 

 

“Yes, we hear you!” the female spider sinner responded, confused. “Can’t you hear us?” she asked.

 

 

“Can anyone hear me?” the voice repeated. It was clear he couldn’t hear her. Damn.

 

 

“Tony!” the female spider demoness called out to her twin brother.

 

 

“What?!” her twin replied.

 

 

“Someone is trying to contact us but can’t hear my voice!” she shouted.

 

 

“Are you sure, Molly?” Anthony, also known as Angel Dust, asked as he approached her. As if to confirm her statement, the voice spoke up once more.

 

 

“Hello, can anyone hear me?! I’m trying to find a safe place to go. Please, someone respond,” the voice was laced with desperation.

 

 

“We’re on the outskirts of town!” Angel tried to reply, but it was a bad idea as the communication went dead, causing Angel to panic and start hitting the walkie-talkie. “Damn it!”

 

 

“What is it?” one of the other camp members called out to a distressed Angel Dust. “Did you get something on the walkie?”

 

 

Angel nodded, “Yeah, Vassago. But can you get Pentious? I know he’s a lot better at this than any of us!”

 

 

Vassago didn’t hesitate to fetch Pentious. As soon as he and the serpent sinner arrived, Pentious began to work on the device. Once he got the signal, he spoke into the walkie-talkie. “This is Sir Pentious speaking, over.” The snake patiently waited. Silence. He tried again. “This is Sir Pentious, please answer this call, over.” Still nothing.

 

 

“We lost him,” Pentious said, setting down the walkie-talkie.

 

 

“But there are more people out there?” asked Octavia, the youngest in the group. She sat uncomfortably between her mother and uncle, who exchanged a look of disdain.

 

 

“Must be a peasant,” Andrealphus remarked in his haughty British tone, prompting Stella to laugh in agreement. Vassago merely rolled his eyes.

 

 

“No one here is a peasant or royalty. Not anymore. Out here, we’re all the same,” the parrot demon told both Stella and Andrealphus, causing Stella to stop laughing and Andrealphus to roll his eyes.

 

 

“We need to warn those folks that they’re walking into a death sentence,” Angel insisted, ignoring the glare Valentino sent his way, even though it intimidated him as Valentino approached.

 

 

“We won’t be able to do that, amor,” Valentino said in his signature seductive yet cautionary tone. “We don’t have enough time.”

 

 

“Then we’ll make time,” Vassago declared, a surge of determination coursing through him, reminiscent of when he saved Stolas from dying. “I’m going. Prepare me a ride.”

 

 

“No, you’re not,” Andrealphus barked, grabbing Vassago’s hand tightly and forcing him to face him. Andrealphus activated his power, slowly freezing Vassago’s hand. “You’re not dying out there like—”

 

 

“That’s not your call, so I’m going to ask you again: Let. Me. Go.” Vassago commanded, pulling his hand away from Andrealphus’s grip, melting the frost as he brushed off his suit. “Get me a vehicle ready,” Vassago repeated, turning to Pentious, who nodded quickly and slithered away.

 

 

As Vassago entered a tent, Octavia managed to sneak in, startling him. “Octavia?” Vassago asked, kneeling to her height and noticing the worry etched on her face. “What is it?”

 

 

“Please, you can’t go. What if something happens to you?” Octavia whispered in her British accent, as if afraid he’d refuse. “Who’s going to protect me from my own family if not you? They’re too entitled to listen to anyone who isn’t royalty, and the closest thing to royalty here is Valentino since he was an overlord, and I highly doubt he’ll do anything. So please, just stay,” she pleaded.

 

 

Vassago sighed as Octavia wrapped her arms around his waist in a hug, prompting him to return the gesture. He heard a few saddened owl cries from her. “Alright,” he decided, gently patting her hair. “I’ll stay.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

 

Meanwhile, Stolas was running out of gas. As his car sputtered to a halt near a farmland, it became as useful as a rock. Frustrated, Stolas cursed at it before calming himself down. He took out his wallet, revealing a smiling portrait of two of the most important people in his life: his daughter and his best friend. Though it also contained images of himself, Stella, and Andrealphus, he had long ago scratched their faces with black marker, leaving only the light in this hellish world visible.

 

 

He quickly tucked the photo back into his wallet and approached a farmhouse. Standing on the porch, he knocked several times. “Prince Stolas!” he announced, knocking again. “I’m here for some gas, nothing more!” No answer. It seemed he was getting a lot of silence lately.

 

 

With a sigh, he resigned himself to walking. Just as he was about to leave, he heard it—a horse neighing. Stolas teleported to the source of the sound, startling the Hell Horse. “Oh, no, no,” Stolas said softly, reaching for the horse’s snout. “I’m not here to hurt you, little fella. I just need your help. Can you help little ol’ me?”

 

 

The horse neighed again, now calm, sensing that Stolas posed no threat. “Good. You and I can help each other. You help me find my family, and I’ll find you a safer home. How about that?” Seeing the horse nod, Stolas quickly mounted it. “Let’s head to the nearest town from this farm, alright?” he asked, and the horse began to walk. If Stella saw him talking to a horse, she would have laughed in his face.

 

 

After a short journey, they arrived in town. It resembled a ghost town—houses barely standing, skyscrapers with broken windows, papers and trash strewn about. The sight made Stolas nervous. “Hello!” he called out. Then, making a questionable decision, he turned into an alleyway. He let out a startled yelp upon seeing multiple undead creatures, foolishly attracting them.

 

 

Stolas signaled the horse to sharply turn back, but it was too late. Before he could pass a military tank, the horse was caught and began to be torn apart. The only thing Stolas heard was the painful screeching of the horse as its flesh was ripped open by the monsters. Making eye contact with the doomed creature, Stolas teleported into the safety of the military tank.

 

 

Once inside the military tank, Stolas began to pant heavily. The horrific image of the undead tearing through the horse’s skin, devouring its insides, and ripping apart its organs haunted him. He felt a wave of nausea but was quickly distracted as the dead started to rock the tank. Their growls grew more desperate, more ravenous.

 

 

Stolas shivered. He needed to teleport out, but he had no idea where to go. He could technically teleport back to Mayberry; at least it would be safer there, and he could start anew. Alright, that seemed like a good plan. However, just before he could teleport, the radio in the tank crackled to life, and a voice came through. “Hey, you there? Dumbest bird in hell, are you nice and cozy in that tank?”

 

 

Realization struck Stolas—he wasn’t alone in this nightmare. There were others out there. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to respond, still stunned by the revelation that other people might be alive. So, he let the radio continue to chatter.

 

Notes:

Who do you think is the one in the radio?

~~~
Scrutinized - To examine something very carefully in order to discover information
Haughty – Arrogantly superior and disdainful

Amor = Love

~~

Also question: Do you guys want me to add blood & gore into the warnings in every chapter that has it or leave them out?

Chapter 3: Better Run, Here We Come

Summary:

Stolas is trapped however as he follows the mysterious voice in the tank he took that opportunity to flee and meet up with true living imp’s and a friendship blooms.

Notes:

Warnings Include : Gun Violence, Violence

Stolas stared dumbfounded at the radio for a few more seconds. His mind raced as multiple thoughts ran through his head. “Are you still there?” the voice asked impatiently, prompting Stolas to quickly grab the radio, praying to the stars that it wouldn’t fall. “Sorry. Yes, I’m still here,” Stolas began.

 

 

“Okay, that’s good. I thought you died in there, Your Highness.”

 

 

“Wait, you know I am—was royalty?” Stolas asked in confusion, which earned a laugh from the other side of the radio.

 

 

“Of course, it was so obvious. You walked in on a hell horse like you owned the place, so with all due respect, Prince Stolas, that was—”

 

 

“The dumbest move I could have pulled. Yeah, yeah, I’m aware,” Stolas sarcastically replied. He knew he couldn’t see the man who owned the voice, but he could imagine him nodding as his response came in. “Yeah, that.”

 

 

“Are you going to help me or not?” Stolas asked, trying not to accidentally destroy the radio.

 

 

“Yeah, I am. Can you teleport yourself out of there like you teleported yourself in?”

 

 

Stolas nodded even though he knew the man couldn’t see him. “Yes, I can. But I need a specific location to do so.”

 

 

“Alright, first teleport to the angelic bag of weapons. Then teleport to an alleyway with a yellow ladder. Do I make myself clear?” he asked. Stolas nodded, “Clear as glass.”

 

 

Suddenly, with a new location in mind and realizing he must have dropped his angelic weapons when he fell from the horse, he quickly teleported out of the military tank to fetch them. After a few seconds, he saw those same yellow staircases atop a building—could those be it?

 

 

He didn’t have time to dwell on that as undead hands were reaching for him, covered in now dried blood, ready to tear him apart. He couldn’t afford that. The smell of horse blood still lingered in his nose as he shook his head and teleported to the location, only to realize he wasn’t alone.

 

 

He quickly pulled out a gun and pointed it at the imp, who fearfully surrendered. “Whoa, it’s me!” the imp exclaimed, causing Stolas to lower his weapon.

 

 

“You’re the imp from the radio?” Stolas asked, prompting the imp to nod and point up the stairs. “We go up,” the imp said as he began to climb, with Stolas quickly following suit.

 

 

However, the undead must have heard them because, in the blink of an eye, they were surrounded. Some of the dead were even trying to climb up the stairs themselves. If one of them fell—his attention was diverted as the ladder began to shake.

 

 

“Crumbs,” the imp muttered the word as if it were a curse. Stolas would have giggled if they weren’t in such a dire situation. However, the railings that kept the ladder attached to the wall began to come undone due to the weight placed on them, both by those climbing and the dead trying to pull it down. The dead succeeded in ripping the ladder off the wall.

 

 

The only sound that echoed was the imp’s terrified screams before Stolas teleported them onto the building’s roof. They were safe. Stolas watched as the imp kneeled down, gagged, and threw up. Poor thing must have been terrified.

 

 

Now that they were in a safer location, Stolas could see the imp more clearly. Like most imps, he had red skin, white hair, and white freckles. He wore a business-like suit that had definitely seen better days. “What’s your name?” Stolas asked once the imp was done throwing up.

 

 

“No ‘gee, thanks for saving me’ or ‘how can I ever repay you?’” the imp asked with an eye roll. “I’m Moxxie, nice to meet you.”

 

 

Stolas nodded as he accepted Moxxie’s hand, which caused the imp to look at him in surprise before he composed his face into a serious expression. “Likewise,” Stolas said as the handshake ended. “Do you have people, or are you alone?”

 

 

“I have people,” Moxxie replied with a nod and began to descend a ladder on the other side, with Stolas quickly following until they met up with another imp. “Moxxie!” the other imp greeted.

 

 

Moxxie nodded, “Derek, we’ve got a new guest and four dead ones making a move on us. Come on, let’s go!” As he said that, Derek shot a few of the dead that were advancing towards them, and the living trio made their way to a store, ensuring to lock it up.

 

 

However, as the trio entered, Stolas was then pointed at by a hellhound who barked in rage. “You dumbass! I might as well kill your sorry ass! You led them right to us!”

 

 

“Loona!” Moxxie cried out. “Leave him alone; more noise will only attract them, and besides, you’ll be wasting a bullet!”

 

 

Loona growled; he was right. Damn it! She hated when he was right, so she angrily put her weapon away but not before threatening the owl. "I am watching you,” which made the owl audibly gulp.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Through the glass doors, they could see the silhouettes of the dead trying to claw their way in. Some were pounding hard on the glass, and one of them was slowly picking up a rock.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

“How do we get out now?” Loona asked Moxxie with an angry growl. Moxxie looked thoughtful before coming up with an idea. “This building must be old, meaning it might have a basement that connects to the sewers. We can leave from underground.” The group nodded and followed Moxxie to what they all assumed was the basement, and true to Moxxie’s words, there was indeed a path that led them to the sewers.

 

 

“Huh… I’m impressed,” Stolas voiced, causing Moxxie to adopt a disatisfied expression. “Thank you. I used to be the son of a mafia boss; I know a lot about these things,” the white-haired imp said sourly before his expression turned serious. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do: Loona, you go in there since you have a better sense of smell and will be able to detect if there are any of those monsters down there.”

 

 

“Oh wow, sending the goth chick into a dark place. So stereotypical,” Loona replied sarcastically. If she had access to her phone—which she still had, even though she knew she couldn’t use it anymore, which pissed her off even more—she would have taken a picture of Moxxie’s tight face as his eye twitched and a forehead nerve popped up. “Fine, don’t piss your pants, I’ve got it,” she said as she turned around, crossed her arms over her shoulders, and dropped into the tunnel.

 

 

Moxxie sighed as he watched Loona drop herself down and then turned to both Derek and Stolas before realizing something: Where was Jason? Suddenly, as if to answer his mental question, shots from up the building could be heard.

 

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Moxxie said as he looked at Derek. “You stay here and make sure to shoot anything that isn’t alive.” Derek nodded, holding his gun as Moxxie and Stolas made their way up the stairs.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

 

What they saw was a lunatic succubus who seemed to be mixed with a snake, although he looked more snake than succubus. “Jason!” Moxxie yelled out like a disappointed father scolding his son. “Drop that! You’re wasting ammo—”

 

 

“Shut up, vermin!” a southern accent retorted as the half-succubus cowboy turned to face Moxxie and glared at him. “Ya ain’t my dad ta tell me what ta do! Ya ain’t even the leader of the group!”

 

 

“But I am in charge of the weapons!” Moxxie shouted back, glaring at Jason, who laughed like a madman before shaking his head in denial and slowly moving the rifle as if taunting him. Moxxie would definitely prefer dealing with Loona over Jason.

 

 

Jason then proceeded to shoot at random places, sometimes hitting the dead, other times hitting glass or other objects. “Stop that!” Moxxie demanded, letting out a growl.

 

 

“What’re ya gonna do ‘bout it, huh?” Jason taunted as he continued shooting. Moxxie let out a war cry before attempting to rip the rifle from Jason, only for the stranger man to push him hard into a metal air conditioner, causing Moxxie’s vision to blur for a moment.

 

 

Jason took this opportunity to drop his rifle and began punching Moxxie, intent on killing the imp because how dare he touch him? “Don’t ya ever put yer—”

 

 

However, Jason was hit with a gust of magic that pinned him down to an airway, causing him to glow as he looked at the blue-blooded figure who dared to hurt him. He could see those red eyes filled with hatred as Stolas stood over an injured Moxxie. “For a succubus, you sure are violent,” the blue blood snarled.

 

 

“I ain’t like them whores.” Jason claimed, shaking with anger. It seemed Stolas had struck a nerve. “I ain’t weak and pathetic; I ain’t no slut.” Stolas didn’t bother listening as Jason continued ranting profanities.

 

 

Instead, he turned to Moxxie and quickly healed the imp, whose face was pretty messed up. “Thanks,” Moxxie said as he grabbed the rifle Jason had been shooting. “Let’s go down and see what Loona has found. Then, if we have time, we’ll come back and you can free Jason from your paralyzing spell."

 

 

“We don’t have to come back,” Stolas said as he followed Moxxie down the stairwell. “I could let him go once we’re ready to leave. I don’t necessarily have to be there to free him.”

 

 

“Alright,” Moxxie agreed as they made it back into the basement where Loona was waiting for them.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

 

“Found anything?” Stolas asked her, and she nodded.

 

 

“Yep, guess you were right, fatty.” Loona said as she faced Moxxie, “There was a sewer tunnel, but it was blocked by a grate holding an undead prisoner.”

 

 

“Just one?” Moxxie asked, choosing to ignore the insult Loona sent his way as she nodded, confirming his question. “Alright then, we shoot that bastard and cut through the grate.”

 

 

“But how?” Derek asked Moxxie. “We don’t have the appropriate tools for that.” He was right. Moxxie let out a sigh. “Crumbs. Now what else—” Moxxie’s question was interrupted as the glass shattered from the pressure the undead had put on it. It definitely wasn’t thanks to that one undead who had picked up a rock.

 

 

“Shit!” Stolas cried out in alarm as the undead began to overpopulate the small store. “We’ve got to go. Now.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

 

Stolas teleported everyone up to the roof. They were trapped, but Stolas knew he wasn’t going down like this. “Look!” Loona suddenly yelled out in excitement. Everyone turned to where the hellhound was pointing, her tail wagging. It was a truck! “I can make it there,” Stolas said with determination. “I can teleport myself there.”

 

 

“But wouldn’t that tire you?” Moxxie asked, causing Stolas to turn to him with a look of confusion. Moxxie continued, “You’ve already teleported yourself more times than I can count, and I heard that teleportation spells take a lot of energy from their user. Not to mention you used healing magic on me and paralyzing magic on Jason—”

 

 

“Wait, Jason is paralyzed?” Loona asked in amazement, turning to Moxxie. “What happened?”

 

 

“The jerk was shooting at random. I tried to take away the rifle, he punched me, and Stolas paralyzed him,” Moxxie quickly summarized.

 

 

“Only his hand,” Stolas clarified. “I only paralyzed his hand, pinning it to the ground.”

 

 

“Sick, dude!” Derek said with a smile. “It was about damn time someone showed that cowboy his place.”

 

 

Stolas nodded before returning to the original conversation. “Yes, Moxxie, you’re correct. I do tire from excessive use of magic, but what else should I do?”

 

 

Loona smiled, “I might have an idea.”

 

Notes:

Stolas first impression of future brother in law wasn’t what he expected. But I did say Jason heated everything that moved or not.

And before anyone asks: yes, Jason is Striker’s big brother.

Chapter 4: It's The Day Of The Dead

Summary:

Lonna had a plan. And it surprisingly works.

Notes:

Head's up for the mini Spanish 'lesson' at the end notes!

~~~~

Warnings Include : Blood, Gore, Valentino

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Derek asked with disgust as Loona used her claws to cut open a now-dead undead, revealing its guts while black blood pooled on the floor.

 

 

“It’s worth a try,” Loona replied as she covered her hands in the body’s blood, ignoring the horrible iron scent that smelled rotten. She smeared the blood over both Moxxie and Stolas who both had on a lab coat, chuckling at how Stolas looked ready to pass out as she draped the large intestine of the dead hellhound over his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Prince, just think about puppies and kittens,” she said, holding back her mocking tone.

 

 

“Dead puppies and kittens,” Moxxie murmured as he covered himself in the rotten blood. That comment seemed to trigger Stolas, making him throw up before quickly recovering as he shut his eyes tightly, murmuring “happy place” over and over again. It was a miracle he had made it this far.

 

 

“Alright, I’m done,” Loona said proudly as she wiped the final patch of blood all over Stolas’s coat. “Now go, and don’t get bit.”

 

 

“Oh wow, so reassuring,” Moxxie said sarcastically as he loaded his angelic gun, with Stolas quickly following suit. “Just make sure Jason doesn’t make more stupid choices.” Both Loona and Derek nodded, ignoring how they could still hear Jason yelling profanities that would make a sailor proud and baby’s cry, even though they weren’t on the roof.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

Stolas and Moxxie made it outside, both tense as they held onto their weapons, walking in silence toward the truck. So far, they were being successful. Every undead that looked at them passed by without giving them a second glance, as they both smelled like them: dead.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

The surviving imp and hellhound had made it up to the roof. “What the hell is going on?” Jason demanded, but of course, he was ignored, which caused him to rattle his tail as he shouted the same question at the group, receiving the same answer: silence. “Y’all are just bein’ downright petty at this point.” he murmured.

 

 

“Can you see them anywhere?” Loona asked Derek, who had somehow acquired some binoculars. “Yeah, they’re over there,” he responded, pointing at the tense duo pretending to be undead. “How’s your attempt to reach camp going?” he asked Loona.

 

 

“I’m trying, just give—” Loona was interrupted as the hellish sky rumbled and thundered, signaling an approaching storm.

 

 

“Welp,” Jason said, finally catching the duo’s attention as he chuckled, “We’re all fucked.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

Sir. Pentious kept himself busy, standing guard at the camp. He sighed as he watched Octavia and Vassago playing some sort of card game while Stella and Andrealphus glared at them.

 

 

“You did it just fine,” Vassago praised Octavia for beating him, causing the owlet to laugh.

 

 

“You shouldn’t be teaching her worthless junk, you know that, right?” Stella asked as she paced around, clearly annoyed by the circumstances they were in.

 

 

“Ugh, if this plague hadn’t hit us, I would be at home celebrating the death of my husband—” That comment earned a glare from Vassago and Octavia, causing Stella to pause before she huffed and crossed her arms.

 

 

It was clear to everyone present that she missed her pampered life without having to fend for herself. She most certainly hated wearing ‘normal non-royal attire’ (which consisted of white pants and a pale pink shirt).

 

 

“You should be teaching her royal etiquette in case Heaven decides to take us away from these heinous lands,” Andrealphus chimed in, wearing a top similar to his sister’s but in a lighter shade of blue with a snowflake embroidered in the center, paired with similar white pants. His comment caused Vassago to sigh in frustration.

 

 

“If Heaven had pity on us royals, don’t you think they would have already pulled us out of this mess?” Vassago snarled, leaving the peacock to quiet down because he was indeed right. Vassago smirked at his small victory and was about to continue playing cards with Octavia when Sir. Pentious’s radio suddenly crackled to life with a very familiar voice.

 

 

“Base camp, this is Loona, please respond, over.”

 

 

“We hear you loud and clear, Miss. Loona!” Sir Pentious quickly answered, motioning for the group to gather closer to listen. “What is it, over?”

 

 

“It’s about to rain, and the store is overrun by thousands of those creatures. We cannot escape; we cannot get out. Vassago, we need reinforcement—” Before she could continue her plea to Vassago, the line went dead.

 

 

“Shit!” Pentious exclaimed, hitting the radio as if that would bring Loona’s voice back. It didn’t.

 

 

“Why are we panicking over lower status?” Stella suddenly asked with a chuckle, her brother agreeing with her. “We don’t need them here anymore; we should be thanking those monsters—”

 

 

“We need to save them because that’s what we promised when the epidemic first started!” Vassago raged. “And not to mention, they’re out there finding supplies for us!”

 

 

“We can always send another round,” Valentino, who had been silently watching the bickering, spoke up as he puffed out smoke from his cigarette. “Besides, dear Stella is right.” No one missed the heated look he sent her, nor the wince Angel let out as Molly comforted him and glared at Valentino.

 

 

“That loba and imp are goners,” Valentino pressed as he invaded Vassago’s personal space, blowing his red smoke into his face. “Nothing we can do, bebe.”

 

 

“No me llames eso, estúpido. No tienes derecho,” Vassago growled as he waved the smoke away from his face and pushed Valentino back. He made his way over to Octavia, realizing they were right: it was too dangerous to go out there. Even with his powers, he had no idea how to defend others. The shot Stolas took was a testament to that. He heard thunder rumbling, signaling an Impending storm.

 

 

Somewhere deep down, Vassago began to have a terrible feeling that something would go wrong.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

Stolas and Moxxie were not having any difficulties so far, unless you counted the fence standing between them and the car, along with the undead roaming around. “I am going to teleport us to that truck,” Stolas announced in a determined whisper.

 

 

“Are you sure?” Moxxie asked, clearly unconvinced.

 

 

Stolas nodded. “Yes, my energy is restored since I went, like, what? Two or three hours without using my powers. I’ll be fine.” Before Moxxie could continue arguing, they both teleported right inside the truck. Stolas looked unfazed. “Told you,” the owl said smugly, causing Moxxie to roll his eyes.

 

 

“Alright… Let’s go,” Moxxie said as he turned on the truck and headed to the back of the store. Stolas sent gusts of magic that cut through the undead’s heads, causing them to fall.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

The duo of Imp and hellhound saw the truck moving. “Do we go now?” Derek asked Loona, who quickly nodded. “Let’s go,” she confirmed as she and Derek began their escape, while Jason still had his paralyzed hand stuck in the airway. “Get yer ass back here! “ Jason demanded, but he was ignored and left behind.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

As Stolas and Moxxie waited for the rest of the group, Stolas set off a nearby car alarm with his magic, making all the undead rush toward the distraction, leaving the loading docks empty. The duo rushed out and quickly climbed into the truck.

 

 

Once they were all in, Stolas realized that Jason wasn’t there, which made his eyes widen. “Shit!” he yelled, causing Moxxie, who was ready to go, to stop. “We can’t leave Jason up there!”

 

 

“Oh sure we can!” Loona barked. “He’s an ass! No one will care if he dies or not… well, maybe Striker, but that’s just one person. He'll get over it, besides I chained the door.”

 

 

“I should at least un-paralyze his hand,” Stolas said guiltily. “I-I should—”

 

 

“We don’t have time for this!” Loona shouted. “Un-paralyze his hand, sure, but don’t teleport over there to get him! If you do, we’ll leave without you!”

 

 

Stolas winced and sighed, accepting the situation. Fine. He would un-paralyze Jason’s hand and hope for the best. After deactivating his spell, he murmured, ”Let’s go.” With that, Moxxie started the truck once more and fled the scene, leaving no trace of living beings… except for Jason.

 

Notes:

I just found it funny to add Valentino as a warning lol.

~~~

Loba –Wolf
Bebé – Baby
No me llames eso estupido. No tienes derecho –
Don’t call me that stupid. You have no right.

Not me giving y’all Spanish lessons.

~~~

Also I am finished writing season 1 and currently writing season 2!

I just want to ask if y'all want me to write season 3 & 4

Chapter 5: We Come From A World Of Oblivion

Summary:

Stolas and the other’s make it to camp and Jason got a bit of a problem.

Notes:

Warnings Include : Small Hints of Child Abuse, Toxic Relationships, Abuse, Valentino, Choking

Jason finally managed to break free from the paralyzing spell that the troublesome bird had cast on him. As he massaged his wrist, a look of hatred flashed in his eyes as he gazed at the undead creatures trying to reach him but were restrained by chains keeping the door shut. “I’m going to kill you all,” he muttered, his tail rattling as he imagined the faces of the people back at the camp as the undead.

 

 

He chuckled while reaching for his knife, determined to escape and make everyone pay for leaving him behind.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

Stolas wore a sad expression as he fiddled with his fancy hat and turned to Loona. “A few minutes ago, you mentioned a Striker. Who is he?”

 

 

Loona rolled her eyes. “Another jerk, but more tolerable than Jason. He’s Jason’s younger brother, and like I said before, the only one who’ll miss that piece of shit. So don’t feel bad about it. Just think of it as doing everyone a favor back at camp.”

 

 

It's safe to say Stolas remained silent for the rest of the ride.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───   

 

Back at the campsite, Stella was attempting to fix Octavia’s messy hair. Key word: attempting. “Keep still, you ungrateful brat,” Stella snapped as she smacked Octavia on the back of her head, causing the poor girl to wince while Stella wore a smug smile. “I told you to stay still,” Stella said, as if that would solve everything.

 

 

“Yes, listen to your mother, or else she’ll cut off all your hair, and that would be so unladylike. You wouldn’t want others to think you’re a boy, right?” Andrealphus asked Octavia, who was gently massaging the spot where Stella had hit her with the brush.

 

 

“I want Vassago to do it! He does it more gently than you—” However, before Octavia could complain further, Stella smacked her again, causing the poor girl to quickly silence herself and weep silently into her hands as she stood still for her mother to continue brushing her hair.

 

 

A few tense moments passed when they heard Sir Pentious calling out to them, prompting both spider twins to rush toward him. “What’s up, Pentious?!” Angel Dust shouted to his friend standing guard with binoculars.

 

 

 “Is it them?!” Molly suddenly asked, causing the rest of the group, including Vassago, who was setting up a row of cans to alert them of any approaching undead, to come rushing over.

 

 

“I think so,” Pentious said, squinting his eyes despite having binoculars. The hot Hell sun made it difficult to see clearly.

 

 

A truck was seen entering the campsite. It came to a sudden stop, and a very familiar white-haired imp got out. “We made it!” Moxxie exclaimed, beaming with pride. “We all got out… well, except Jason, but other than that, we’re all good!” He barely finished speaking before Molly tackled him in a hug, crying with relief.

 

 

“Oh, thank the Sin’s you guys made it!” she wept as Moxxie managed to stand up with her and awkwardly patted her head. “Yeah, we’re fine,” he confirmed as both Derek and Loona got off the truck and began distributing supplies. Yet, it seemed odd to Moxxie that the one who saved them hadn’t come out yet. Was he just nervous?

 

 

“Some prince guy saved our asses,” Loona spoke up, snapping Moxxie out of his thoughts as he quickly nodded in agreement.

 

 

“Prince?” Vassago suddenly asked, and Moxxie couldn’t help but notice the hope radiating from the red parrot and how Stella’s talons dug deep into Octavia’s shoulders, causing the poor girl to wince.

 

 

Moxxie felt his blood run cold, but he tried to control his anger as he saw the mother-daughter scene. “Yes,” he said before turning his gaze back toward the truck. “Hey, Your Highness! We have people over here who want to meet you!”

 

 

Stolas heard Moxxie calling out to him as he nervously fidgeted with his hands. Should he? What if he wasn’t welcomed? What if they took one look at him and decided he wasn’t worth keeping? What if—“Hey, bird brain, get your ass out of there before you boil to death!” Loona’s agitated voice snapped Stolas out of his ‘what if’ thoughts.

 

 

He quickly took a deep breath to calm his nerves, adjusted his already adjusted top hat, took another deep breath, and reached for the car door, opening it slowly.

 

Once the door opened as far as it could, he stepped out and began walking toward the camp with his head hung low, multiple thoughts racing through his mind until he heard a very familiar voice that made him pause in his tracks.

 

 

“Dad?” Stolas lifted his head, his jaw dropping as emotions flooded him: relief, parental love, and the feeling of finding something precious that he thought he’d lost.

 

 

Octavia and he made eye contact. “DAD!” she cried out once more, rushing toward him with arms wide open, making sure not to be pulled back by her mother or uncle.

 

 

She saw her father also rushing toward her, mirroring her movements and calling out to her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Vassago freeze before he too made his way toward them.

 

 

Stolas couldn’t believe it. As he hugged both his friend and daughter, he began to cry. He didn’t care that others were watching. To him, they didn’t exist—Stella and Andrealphus didn’t exist. At this moment, only he, Octavia, and Vassago existed, emotions running high.

 

 

Stolas could barely contain himself from squeezing the two people he cared about most to death, but could you blame him? He had awoken from a coma to a hellish world, thinking his family wasn’t alive anymore, yet here they both were: alive and well.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

“Aww, what a cute scene, verdad Bonita?” Valentino asked Stella, who wore a look of disdain, her face expressing clear displeasure. For the first time, she ignored Valentino. He didn’t like that, so he tried to soothe her shoulders. “I can take all this tension away, just like always,” he offered.

 

 

Stella scoffed. “Fine. Come on,” she said, beginning to pull the moth away from the happy reuniting family to find her own pleasure. She smirked as she noticed the hurtful look the spiders sent in their direction. But what could he do, honestly? His soul belonged to Valentino whether he liked it or not, and he would have to endure it.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

 

Later that same night at the campsite, once everyone’s emotions had settled down, Octavia sat next to her father in comfortable silence, nuzzling deeper into his embrace.

 

 

Stolas recounted to the surviving group his experience when he first woke up in that dreadful hospital. “I was so confused… so distressed. There were so many emotions I can’t even begin to describe,” Stolas concluded, hugging Octavia tighter without causing her any harm.

 

 

“I’m so sorry,” Vassago spoke up, though he didn’t take his eyes off the roaring flames as he used a stick to poke the log being consumed by the fire. “It was my fault you got shot. I should have tried harder to protect—”

 

 

“It wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could, and before you say it wasn’t enough, it was,” Stolas said, holding his best friend’s hand. “You saved me from bleeding out; you gave me a chance to find you and Octavia. So thank you. I am in debt to you.”

 

 

As Stolas spoke those words, Vassago felt a wave of relief wash over him. The guilt he’d carried for so long slipped away. And then he felt it: the urge to cry. And cry he did. Vassago buried his face into Stolas’s shoulder and cried, releasing his guilt as Stolas held him closer. Stolas truly was the best friend he could have asked for, and what does he do in return?

 

 

He lets him get sh—he saved him from being shot.

 

 

“Mom said you died,” Octavia cried out. “I never once believed her lies!” she declared with pride.

 

 

Stolas nodded, feeling pride swell within him. “That’s my girl,” he said, ruffling her feathers, earning a warning growl from Andrealphus, which he clearly ignored. However, the peacock’s attention was caught by Valentino, who held a log and was about to throw it onto the fire. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Andrealphus warned with a glare.

 

 

The moth overlord returned the glare as he spoke, “Cariño, I am cold, and if I am cold, I can do whatever I want to get warm.” As Valentino threw the log into the fire, making the flames larger and brighter to the point they outlined his features, Andrealphus stepped in front of him. “Are you sure you want to argue with a Goetia who took pity on you and your whore?” he asked. “I can easily freeze you here and now.”

 

 

Valentino felt his eye twitch and turned to Angel, who sat next to Molly. “Take it out,” he ordered.

 

 

“B-but Val, I’ll get—” Angel began before a hot pink chain wrapped around his neck, causing him to choke. Before he could catch his breath, Valentino harshly grabbed his cheeks, smirking at the low whimper Angel let out as blood oozed from where Valentino dug his claws in. “Take. It. Out,” he commanded before finally throwing Angel to the floor and walking away.

 

 

Angel managed to catch his breath and quickly pulled out the log, grateful not to be burned by the fire or frozen by the ice Andrealphus used to extinguish the log. “Thank you for putting out the fire,” Angel heard Vassago’s warm tone as he crouched down to meet his gaze.

 

 

“You’re welcome,” Angel said softly, barely a whisper, before speaking up again. “I am so sorry for his actions—”

 

 

“No need to apologize for his shitty behavior,” Vassago said with a sigh as he glanced at Valentino, who was now next to Stella, audaciously holding her waist possessively. He winced as he saw Stolas watching before quickly looking away. “Listen, if I knew how badly he treated you…” Vassago said. “I could have tried—”

 

 

“You can’t,” Angel interrupted with hatred, clenching his fists. “In my contract, it says that if I were to harm him or if he were no longer alive, I will never know peace, and those I care about will pay for it as one by one they suffer.”

 

 

Vassago tried to reach out for Angel until Pentious, who had been quiet for too long, spoke up, “So what do we do with Striker? I may not have a sibling, but I would be pretty pissed if they weren’t here and were up on a roof paralyzed, even if they’re the biggest asshole known to mankind.”

 

 

“I’ll tell him,” Loona said with a look of defeat. “I chained down the door—”

 

 

“Yet I paralyzed him,” Stolas suddenly said as he stood up. “If anyone is at fault, it should be me. I am telling him.”

 

Notes:

Audaciously –Means to do something in a bold, daring, and possibly reckless way. It can also imply a confident or even arrogant disregard for social norms or personal safety. Essentially, it describes actions characterized by a fearless and perhaps unconventional approach.

~~~~

Spanish lessons part two :
Verdad Bonita –Right Beautiful
Cariño – Darling

~~~~

Also if theirs any Supernatural fans that read this. I been having this idea to add the boys into this fic. Course they'll both be demons lol. I just thought the gang would be better parents then John Winchester.

Chapter 6: Bad Dreams

Summary:

Stolas meets a very angry Striker and he slowly feels the need to win him over so what does he do? Teleport a small group to look for Jason.

Notes:

Warnings Include : Violence

The next morning, Stolas awoke and looked around the tent, noticing that both Octavia and Stella were absent. He quickly got up and began making his way through the campsite, greeting everyone he passed while his mind raced with thoughts: How was he going to tell Striker that he had left Jason behind? What if Striker asked him whether Jason was even alive?

 

 

Stolas headed towards where his attire hung, freshly washed on a drying rack. As he touched his red cape, Angel approached him. “Molly washed your clothes, or at least she tried,” he chuckled. “It wasn’t easy since your suit is made of such expensive material that we would never have been able to touch.”

 

 

Stolas blinked slowly with all four eyes as he comprehended what Angel had just said. After an odd plastic duck sound came from nowhere, he quickly shook his head. “Thank you.”

 

 

Angel nodded. “She did her best, but if you feel like we didn’t do enough, I could always sneak in a kiss,” Angel said in a seductive, low voice, narrowing his eyes. However, his demeanor changed when he saw Stolas cringe away, his feathers puffing up in disgust. Angel let out a loud scoff, clearly not offended by the reaction.

 

 

“Fine, suit yourself. Just know I’ll be here when you’re ready, daddy,” Angel said before blowing Stolas a kiss and walking away. It was fortunate he didn’t see Stolas move away from the imaginary kiss sent his way.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

After some time, Stolas finally found Vassago. “Can we talk?” Stolas asked his friend, who was sitting on a picnic blanket. Vassago immediately moved and patted the now-empty spot, motioning for Stolas to sit next to him, which the owl prince did. “What’s on your mind?” Vassago eventually broke the silence.

 

 

Stolas: “I’m thinking about the man we—I left behind. Jason.”

 

 

“You can’t be serious!” Vassago exclaimed, turning to look at Stolas with disbelief.

 

 

Stolas nodded. “Yes, I am planning to go back for him—”

 

 

Vassago: “But we just got you back, and we’re going to lose—”

 

 

“You won’t lose me. That’s a promise I won’t break,” Stolas said firmly, his tone clearly indicating he was serious and unwilling to back down from this disagreement.

 

 

“Fine,” Vassago conceded. “Go, risk your life for a hijo de puta that no one likes,” he said as he stood up and began to walk away. He hadn’t gone far before Octavia’s horror-filled voice rang out through the camp, causing both the owl and parrot to rush to her aid.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

“Dad!” Octavia cried out as she threw herself onto a worried Stolas, weeping as the undead sinner reached out to her.

 

 

“Are you alright, my owlet? Nothing bit you, nothing scratched you?” Stolas asked Octavia as he gently held her cheeks, turning her head to check for any bite or scratch marks. “No, it just scared me,” Octavia replied, burying her face into her father’s chest. Nearby, Valentino, Andrealphus, and Stella were seen ‘attacking’ the undead by hitting everything except its head.

 

 

Suddenly, a bullet pierced through the undead’s head, splattering black blood on the ground. Angel and Molly looked disgusted as they walked away.“What in tarnation is wrong with y’all? I reckon we’ve lived long enough to know how to kill these sons of bitches.” a rough southern accent drawled, causing the group to turn towards the bushes.

 

 

“Oh, here comes problem number two,” Andrealphus said with an eye roll, but squealed like a little girl when a bullet barely missed his head. “Next time, I ain’t gonna miss.” the voice promised as a figure emerged from the bush.

 

 

What Stolas saw was the most striking creature he’d ever laid eyes on. The cowboy had peach-toned skin, white hair under a hat, and piercing yellow eyes. He resembled Jason but appeared softer, less muscular. He seemed more succubus than serpent. Despite having the same facial structure as Jason, there was something different—Stolas’s train of thought halted, and his heart sank.

 

 

This was Striker.

 

 

The brother of the man he had left paralyzed at the camp.

 

 

He gulped audibly, noticing his daughter’s concerned look but choosing to ignore it. Oh no. All the rehearsed lines he had memorized vanished. He couldn’t recall how his speech began or ended. Did he even have an introduction?

 

 

“I brought y’all dinner, and if you make it last, maybe breakfast and lunch for tomorrow,” Striker announced proudly, displaying a string of dead squirrels he had hunted.

 

 

“We are not eating that!” Andrealphus exclaimed in disgust, with his sister and Valentino nodding in agreement. “We haven’t sunk to your level of poverty yet.”

 

 

Striker seemed unfazed as he tossed the squirrels to Moxxie, who clumsily tried to not drop them only to immediately dropped them, prompting a disappointed sigh from the cowboy. He turned back to the trio who refused the meal. 

 

 

“Suit yourself. Besides, we might even have more for the new guy… Whoever that rich blue-blood son of a bitch is,” Striker said, pointing at Stolas, who winced. “Unless he’s like y’all—”

 

 

“Of course, I would eat it!” Stolas blurted out, mentally chastising himself. “I-it would be considered rude not to eat something someone has hunted for you, so count me, Vassago, and Octavia in!”

 

 

Striker was taken aback, ignoring Stella’s outburst and tantrum about her daughter not eating ‘peasant’ food as Valentino tried to calm her. He simply stared at Stolas, placing a hand on his hip, scratching his head, and giving Stolas a look that said, ‘I wasn’t expecting you to say that,’ before sighing and rubbing his temples. “Fine, do what ya want. What’s your name anyway?”

 

 

Stolas gulped again. Was this where he was going to drop the bombshell? “Stolas,” he introduced himself. “Stolas Goetia. Listen, I need to talk to you about y-your brother.”

 

 

“Jason? What the hell did that idiot do now?” Striker asked, and suddenly something clicked in his mind. He rushed back to camp, yelling his brother’s name like a madman.

 

 

“Well, your brother was being an ass,” Loona said, growling and then snapping her teeth at the air as Moxxie tried to shush her. “Don’t shush me!” she commanded.

 

 

“What the hell did you do?!” Striker demanded, getting up in Loona’s face, causing the startled hellhound to yelp as she felt the cold metal of a gun against her skull. “I—we left him paralyzed on a rooftop! We were running out of time, and nothing could be—”

 

 

“You left my brother paralyzed on a roof!” Striker raged, his entire body shaking with anger. Sure, his brother was an ass and perhaps not the best person to be around, maybe even abusive, but he was still family! Besides, Jason would have done the same for him?

 

 

Right?

 

 

“She or the others who went there aren’t to blame,” Stolas interjected, raising his hands in surrender. “It was me. I cast the paralyzing spell. I left him behind, but before we left, I granted him mercy and undid the spell. So he’s probably somewhere there—” Stolas didn’t have time to finish his sentence as a bullet narrowly missed his shoulder, startling the entire camp as they looked at Striker in fear, everyone backed away.

 

 

He was the one who had shot at Stolas.

 

 

It made Stolas’s heart squeeze in despair.

 

 

“Oh hell no, not again,” Vassago cried out as he grabbed Striker’s gun and pointed it upwards just as Striker fired another shot. And with that, a fight broke out. Striker tried to reclaim his gun to shoot Stolas, while Vassago struggled to disarm him to prevent any harm.

 

 

“Alright, enough!” Stolas commanded, using a spell to separate the fighting duo and pin them to the ground. “No one is fighting, and most certainly, no one is killing anyone.”

 

 

He then crouched near Striker, who was trying to resist the spell, which Stolas found impressive. “I will go with you to find your brother if you promise to calm down and not kill anyone.”

 

 

Striker paused, actually considering the blue-blooded offer. It was difficult since his father, when alive, had always warned him never to trust any royal types. But what other choice did he have? Striker sighed. “Fine. Now get this spell off,” he demanded.

 

 

Stolas nodded and quickly released both Vassago and Striker from the spell. They got up and dusted themselves off. “We leave in the afternoon,” Stolas announced to the group watching him. “Me, Striker, Loona, and Moxxie. We leave in the afternoon.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

Octavia was curled up in her bed inside her tent after her father left. Why did he have to leave? Why did he have to risk his life for someone no one liked in the camp? Suddenly, she heard the tent being unzipped and saw Vassago entering before closing it and sitting next to her on her inflatable bed. “Mom and Uncle will kill you if they see you here,” Octavia was the first to speak.

 

 

“True. But who’s going to tell them? You? Because I’m surely not,” Vassago said with a chuckle, attempting to lift the girl’s spirits. It didn’t work, so he sighed and gently caressed her hair. “I bet your father is going to be just fine,” he said, though he wasn’t sure if he was reassuring her or himself. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

 

 

Octavia only nodded as she leaned back against Vassago’s legs, seeking comfort. “Yes, I am. I’m worried they won’t make it.”

 

 

Vassago felt his heart break. “Ay mija… You shouldn’t think like that. Your father is like a cockroach. Nothing can kill him.” That made Octavia laugh, and a smile spread across Vassago’s face because he hoped that if he kept telling himself that, he might actually believe it.

 

Notes:

Spanish Lesson part three:
Hijo de puta –Son of a Bitch
Ay mija – Oh daughter

~~~

Stolas is definitely going to be the one that falls at first sight that’s just so in character I think. Lol.

~~~

Also Striker will definitely go through it for the next few chapters. Poor boy can't catch a break. His main problems will be finding Jason, avoiding Valentino and Stella at all cost...

Chapter 7: I Got All I Need Strapped Right To My Hamstring

Summary:

Vassago and Andrealphus argue after the group leaves and causes Andrealphus to crash out.

Notes:

Warnings Include : Physical Assault, Choking, Valentino, Small Hints Of Sexual Assault threats (but nothing really happens…yet), Valentino

“Are you promising me that my brother is still up there?” Striker asked as he, along with the group assigned by Stolas, teleported to the building’s back alley and pointed to the very top.

 

 

Loona nodded. “Yes. I chained the door. No one can get through it but us. Mark my words.”

 

 

Striker couldn’t help but believe that promise.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

“Hey Pentious, have you seen Octavia?” a worried Vassago asked Pentious after unsuccessfully trying to ask Stella for Octavia’s whereabouts. Stella, being the bitch she was, didn’t tell him anything.

 

 

What a waste of space.

 

 

What a dishonorable woman.

 

 

To not even attempt to hide her cheating.

 

 

“I saw her being taken by Andrealphus towards the creek,” the snake overlord said, pointing in the direction he saw the uncle and niece heading from his van. “I heard that Andrealphus wanted to teach her about some politics.”

 

 

Vassago’s eyes widened. “Thank you,” he said as he began to rush towards the destination Pentious had mentioned, praying that Andrealphus wasn’t doing anything foolish. He felt his protective rage roaring within him.

 

 

“Do I really have to be mean to every person that’s considered below me?” Octavia asked Andrealphus as the two sat next to the lake. A few feet away, Angel, Derek, and Molly were washing clothes while Valentino stood by, watching them and smoking without offering any help.

 

 

“For the last time,” Andrealphus said angrily as he massaged his head. “Those below you aren’t people. They’re things. Servants. And yes, you have to be ‘mean’ to them, or else how would they respect you? They’ll walk all over you like you’re worthless trash.”

 

 

Octavia scoffed, “But Uncle Vassago—”

 

 

“I don’t care what Vassago says. What he says is wrong. That’s something only someone without self-dignity does!” he yelled, not caring who heard. “Royals and Overlords who risk their lives for their ‘people’ will be mocked and later forgotten! Do you want to be forgotten, girl?”

 

 

Octavia shook her head slightly.

 

 

She didn’t want to be forgotten.

 

 

Not in this world.

 

 

Yet, she couldn’t help but start to think that her uncle was right. The kind and caring will not last in this new apocalyptic Hell.

 

 

“I am really beginning to question labor here,” Derek suddenly spoke up a few feet away from the arguing uncle and niece duo to the two twin siblings who let out a laugh. “I mean, why do we have to wash the clothes while Valentino just stands behind us? Oh Asmodeus, don’t tell me that gets him hard. Pssh, what a crazy bastard. Angel, how did you even manage to surrender your soul to him?”

 

 

“Well, did you forget the memo? The world ended,” Angel said with sadness as he scrubbed a particularly hard bloodstain off a shirt.

 

 

Molly couldn’t help but agree with him as she shook her head. “It’s how hell is now.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

 

“So we get in and get out,” Stolas ordered his team once they made it inside. “Do I make myself clear? We’re only here for Jason. Nothing more.”

 

 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go get that son of a bitch,” Striker said as he cracked his knuckles. It was clear to everyone that during this moment, during this time, Striker was in charge.

 

 

He got the final say.

 

 

That was the least they could do.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

Meanwhile, back in the survival camp, Derek was seen scrubbing a random pair of pants when he sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “Man, I miss home and football matches,” he said as nostalgia filled the area.

 

 

“I miss my cute outfits that I left behind,” Molly said with a pout.

 

 

Angel smirked, a devious smile spreading across his face as he spoke seductively, “I miss my stripping days back home~”

 

 

This caused the trio washing clothes to burst into laughter, pausing their work for a moment. Valentino tightened his grip on his cigar. “What’s so funny?” he asked, breaking the group’s brief moment of fun and making Angel flinch.

 

 

“Nothing, Val, just sharing what we miss,” Molly said sternly.

 

 

However, Valentino didn’t seem to like that answer as he moved forward, standing proud and tall. “Is there a problem, Val?” Derek asked as he stood up. Though he wasn’t as tall as Valentino, he tried his best to look as intimidating as Valentino was making himself now.

 

 

“Nothing that concerns you, boy,” Valentino finally spat with venom after a few tense seconds before commanding, “Now hurry up with that work. This isn’t a comedy show to laugh like little girls.”

 

 

Derek felt his eye twitch in irritation.

 

 

Vassago had finally found Octavia, and true to Pentious’s words, she was indeed ‘studying’ politics with Andrealphus. A surge of protective rage surged within him as he created a star-like hoverboard beneath him to reach the arguing duo faster.

 

 

“Octavia, there you are,” Vassago said as he finally reached them, causing the star hoverboard to dissolve and disappear. “What are you doing out here? It’s quite dangerous to be alone,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady and his anger in check.

 

 

“Well, Uncle Andrealphus commanded me to learn some politics with him while Mother backed him up,” Octavia explained. “Besides, I’m not alone; I have them over there,” she said, pointing at the group who were washing clothes.

 

 

Vassago sighed as he massaged his head. “It doesn’t matter what your uncle or mom say, young lady,” he smirked, earning an insulted scoff from Andrealphus. “You listen to what I say, alright? Your father left me in charge of you—of this place—and what I say goes. Now hurry off to the tent.”

 

 

However, before Octavia could leave peacefully, Andrealphus yelled out, “Where do you think you’re going?! We’re not done yet!”

 

 

“Oh yes, you are!” Vassago said, motioning for Octavia to keep going, which she did, only raising Andrealphus’s anger.

 

 

“Vassago, why are you being so difficult?” Andrealphus complained now that they were ‘alone.’ “Why can’t you accept that whatever I say is right? And who does Stolas think he is by leaving you in charge?”

 

 

Vassago just glared at him, “First of all: cállate. Second of all: Stolas left me in charge because he trusts me to actually care for these people and his daughter, so under no circumstances am I allowing you to speak ill of him while he’s not even here to silence you.”

 

 

That got a laugh from Andrealphus before he turned to Vassago, “What makes you think he’s capable of leading this group when he couldn’t even lead his people—”

 

 

“Neither could you, hypocrite,” Vassago said, feeling a vein bulging. He was going to finish this argument, so he did what he always refrained from doing. He gave a command. “So you and your sister better stay away from my girl. Do I make myself clear? I don’t want to see either of you near her. You come any closer, and I will shoot.”

 

 

“But Stolas said murder isn’t allowed,” Andrealphus said, his voice quivering. He’d never seen Vassago use this much rage before, and it angered him even more.

 

 

“Well, tell it to the frogs, ‘cause I certainly don’t care what you have to say,” Vassago said as he began to march away from the argument, leaving an angry Andrealphus behind.

 

 

But he couldn’t care less.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

As the survival group ventured deeper into the building where Stolas swore he’d left Jason, Striker was the first to notice an undead making its way toward them. He carelessly grabbed one of Moxxie’s knives, causing Moxxie to let out an annoyed, “Hey.” Yet Striker didn’t listen.

 

 

He stabbed the undead without much effort or noise. The only sound was the undead falling to the ground, permanently dead.

 

 

It was safe to say Stolas was impressed by Striker’s little show.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

The clothes-washing trio was almost done—almost until Derek couldn’t take the glare Valentino was sending their way. He could practically feel it burning into the back of his head. Angel noticed it too and sent Derek a pleading look that clearly said, ‘Just ignore him.’ But Derek couldn’t anymore, so he stood up once more and approached the moth man.

 

 

“Is there a problem, Valentino?” Derek repeated as he clumsily wrapped Valentino’s shirt, not even folding it properly as he spoke. “Because if you don’t like how we wash your clothes, you can always do it yourself, you ungrateful bastard,” he said, pushing the poorly folded clothes toward Valentino, who quickly caught them before they fell.

 

 

Valentino was stunned for a moment before shaking his head, the shock replaced with anger. How dare a mere nobody like Derek talk to him like that? An overlord with power far beyond what Derek’s little mind could comprehend?

 

 

 So what did he do? He threw the shirt right back at Derek, hard, causing it to land on the ground. Valentino smirked. “Looks like you’ve got to pick it up and wash it again. And to answer your question: I don’t wash it because I’m not on your level, puto.”

 

 

“Derek…” Angel said, trying to reach for him, his voice trembling in fear and plea. He didn’t care if his acting persona had left him, revealing who he truly was: a scared, broken man.

 

 

“Then what is your job, huh, Val?” Derek pressed, gritting his teeth and purposely ignoring Angel’s plea. Someone had to show this man that he wasn’t an Overlord anymore just because he had ONE soul under his control. “Sitting on your ass and watching us do laundry like a pervert?”

 

 

Valentino sneered as he glared at Derek. He hated when someone talked back to him. “Angelito, let’s go,” he said, using his sweet tone to command Angel as he stretched out his hand for Angel to reach. However, just before Angel’s hand made contact with his own, Molly had the nerve to pull Angel away from him.

 

 

“I don’t think my brother is going anywhere,” the female spider said with a protective growl as she pushed Angel behind her. She didn’t care how his eyes widened in pure horror that soon radiated off of him. “Your abuse stops now.”

 

 

“Oh really?” Valentino asked mockingly. “What are you going to do about it, huh, slut? Just because you’re Angel’s twin doesn’t mean you’re safe from my anger. Now hurry up, Angel,” he pressed.

 

 

“He isn’t going,” Derek said firmly. “We see what you do to him every time you two are alone. Yeah, don’t act dumb; we’ve seen how you treat him in and out of your tent.”

 

 

“I don’t care what you have to say. He’s coming with me whether you like it or not. I don’t have time for this…” Suddenly, an idea flashed in Valentino’s head, and his sadistic smirk spread even more. “Besides, it’s either Angel or that fine-ass half-succubus… What’s his name… Oh yeah… Striker.” That seemed to make the trio tense even more. How sick could this guy be?

 

 

“Fine, I’ll go,” Angel said quickly. He could tolerate Valentino doing the unthinkable to him, but to the man who risks his life just to get them food every time they’re running low? And who he sees as one of his best friends even if the cowboy denied it. He could never live with himself.

 

 

“That’s what I thought,” Valentino said proudly as he reached for Angel once again, only to be denied access, which broke his anger. “That’s it!” he yelled as a pink chain appeared around Angel’s neck, causing Valentino to pull on it hard—hard enough to choke the poor spider, causing both Derek and Molly to start yelling and making a scene, which caught the attention of a still-angry Andrealphus from the fight he had with Vassago.

 

 

“Tonight, I’m going to fuck you and that half-succubus for all this trouble!” Valentino demanded as his smirk turned into a smile at Angel’s fear. “After all, it’s been a while since I got my hands on a fine-ass succubus.”

 

 

“Please…” Angel pleaded as his breath began to quicken, his mind racing with fear. His ears rang as the desperation of both Molly and Derek trying to stop Valentino from pulling on the chain even harder sounded like muffled yelling in his ears. “Leave him out of this…”

 

 

“I don’t think—” However, Valentino was interrupted as a fist made contact with his chin, sending him flying and causing Angel’s chain to disappear. Angel took a well-needed gasp of air as he was slowly starting to see black dots. His vision cleared, as he saw Derek and Molly on each side of him, trying to offer comfort while Andrealphus beat the hell out of Valentino.

 

 

Andrealphus was relentlessly beating Valentino’s face into the ground. He didn’t care if he killed the bastard. He wasn’t doing this for Angel or their food supplier; he was doing it for himself. After his conversation with Vassago, he needed to vent his frustration on someone—anyone.

 

 

With Valentino sporting a split lip, broken nose, probable concussion, and swollen eye, Andrealphus seemed satisfied as he dug his heel into the man’s stomach. “If I see you threatening our food supplier again, you’re dead,” he warned before getting up, cracking his knuckles as the rage and adrenaline left him, leaving the stunned trio behind.

 

 

He couldn't help but smirk.

 

 

At least he could still show some pity to those beneath him after all.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

 

The surviving group finally made it to the roof. Moxxie picked the lock that kept the doors secured, which Striker quickly kicked open. He was the first to ascend to the rooftop, only to gasp, cover his mouth, and fall into a crouching position as his body shook. The rooftop was empty. No Jason in sight. Instead, there were three of the undead, all stabbed to death and placed on top of each other.

 

 

Jason wasn’t there.

 

 

It was all empty.

 

Notes:

Spanish Lessons part four :
Càllate -Shut up
Puto-Bitch
Angelito- Little Angel
~~~
Poor Striker.. Brother? Gone. Sanity? Half way gone. Trust? Issues. Hotel? Trivago.

Well what could POSSIBLY go wrong? I mean is not like Striker might not get kidnapped the next chapter. Key word MIGHT. Cause I would NEVER do that to him. *laughs evilly*

Chapter 8: I'm Not Really Bad

Summary:

Striker crashes out which causes him to lower his guard and even more bad things happen

Notes:

Warnings Include : Talk About Abuse, Violence, Kidnapping

Angel Dust and Derek were now on a boat, fishing in tense silence following the morning’s incident. “Why did you do that?” Angel suddenly asked, breaking the quiet as his anger threatened to explode, his eyes glowing a shade of pink.

 

 

“Because I couldn’t stand him hurting you anymore! What kind of friend would I be if I let that bastard hurt you without stepping up to help?” Derek replied, his eye twitching as he placed his catch in a bucket.

 

 

“Well, you shouldn’t have!” Angel snapped, his eyes glazing over with tears as he backed away from Derek’s reaching hand. “Now I have to deal with his anger. I have to do whatever it takes to get Striker out of the danger zone he doesn’t even know he’s in! So, thank you for ‘standing up.’” Silence fell between them once more.

 

 

The friends didn't speak to each other for the rest of their time fishing.

 

 

Meanwhile, Pentious was patrolling the area with his binoculars when something caught his eye—or rather, someone. It was Molly. She was at the top of a valley, her clothes dirty as she dug tirelessly. She showed no signs of stopping, and it scared Pentious.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Back on the rooftop, the group of survivors continued to stare at the bodies piled on top of each other. Suddenly, Striker stood up and pointed his gun at Loona, tears threatening to spill as his hand shook uncontrollably, preventing him from pulling the trigger. He eventually gave up.

 

 

“I’m so sorry,” Stolas said, reaching out to offer the grieving brother a hug. For some reason, it pained Stolas to see this man cry; it hurt him to see him break.

 

 

“Don’t touch me!” Striker demanded, shoving Stolas away and causing the owl to stumble over his own cape. “We’re not leavin' this place 'til we find him or a clue that he’s even alive,” Striker insisted, his tail rattling like a snake’s.

 

 

Stolas nodded and bowed slightly, ignoring the mental voice of his father warning him to not bow to Striker, who was considered beneath him. But he didn’t care. “As you wish.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

 

Pentious cautiously approached the spider demoness. “Miss. Molly, I’m worried about you. Please take a break; you’re going to pass out from a heatstroke if you keep going like this.” he advised, noticing her sweaty forehead.

 

 

But it seemed she wasn’t listening.

 

 

Despite her exhaustion, she continued digging holes in the ground.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Moxxie shot down an undead creature that had approached the group as they entered the building. He turned to Stolas, saying, “I thought royalty didn’t bow to the lower class?” He was still shocked and impressed by what Stolas had done earlier, and if he weren’t so surprised, he might have laughed at Striker’s flabbergasted expression during the moment.

 

 

“They don’t,” Stolas confirmed Moxxie’s question.

 

 

“Then why did you do it?” Loona suddenly asked. “Because something deep down tells me this won’t be the last time, huh?”

 

 

Stolas remained silent, knowing she was right. This was the first time he had bowed to Striker, but certainly not the last.

 

 

“Look at this,” Striker’s voice prompted the group to rush to his side, and what they saw made their jaws drop. On the wall was a message written in black blood, unearthed by a few unmoving undead. They didn’t need to guess who wrote it; they all knew it was Jason.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Angel and Derek finally returned to camp, each carrying two buckets filled to the brim with fish. “Wow,” Octavia exclaimed in surprise as she and Vassago approached them. “That looks amazing!”

 

 

“I know, right?” Angel teased Octavia. “We worked out pretty little assess off to have something nice alongside the squirrels Striker brought, so get ready for dinner. The sun is setting, so let’s get these bad boys cooking!”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

 

Back in the building, the survival trio was devising a plan to cover more ground quickly. Loona looked uneasy. “Yeah, I don’t like this idea,” she said. “And Moxxie, I don’t even like you.”

 

 

Moxxie rolled his eyes. “It’s not that bad of an idea. We’re splitting up into groups of two, so we’re not going alone. The plan is simple: look around for Jason and get out.”

 

 

Stolas seemed unconvinced, but before he could speak, Striker asked, “Who goes with who?”

 

 

“Me and you,” Moxxie said, pointing to himself and Striker, “and him and her,” he added, gesturing to Loona and Stolas. “Fifteen minutes, and then we’re out.”

 

 

Striker and Moxxie were in an alleyway, hiding behind a trashcan as Moxxie prepared to dash to the other alley while Striker loaded his angelic gun. “You’ve got some guts for a possum,” Striker remarked, shooting an undead creature.

 

 

“I’m not a possum,” Moxxie replied irritably sending him his best bitchface he could muster and rushed out of the alley toward the street. “Whatever,” Striker responded, keeping his focus on Moxxie and the undead getting too close to the imp. He didn’t notice a hellhound slowly approaching until it was in his line of vision, prompting Striker to point his weapon at it.

 

 

He tried to maintain distance between himself and the hellhound. “What are you doing here?!” he raged, causing the hellhound to yelp. “Have you seen my brother? His name is—” However, before Striker could continue, the hellhound, much larger than him, began to move closer.

 

 

“That’s as far as you—” Striker began, but was interrupted. “Are you a half-succubus?” the hellhound asked, causing Striker to freeze in place. “Oh my Mammon, you are!” the hellhound exclaimed, his tail wagging with excitement. “Stay where you are!” Striker commanded, trying to keep his hands from shaking.

 

 

He tried to stay strong.

 

 

He wasn’t going to show his fear, even if the hellhound could easily smell it.

 

 

His attention was so focused on the overly enthusiastic hound that he didn’t notice three more hellhounds emerging from the darkness until it was too late.

 

 

Moxxie had almost reached the other alley when he heard Striker’s yells. He turned around and saw several hounds ganging up on him. His blood ran cold as he quickly ran back to the alley, unable to think straight.

 

 

Forget Jason and whether he was still out there.

 

 

His friend needed him now.

 

 

Getting to Striker was his first priority.

 

 

As Stolas and Loona explored an empty alleyway, they heard screams coming from where Striker and Moxxie were supposed to be. They exchanged a brief glance before Stolas began his teleportation spell to reach the alley.

 

 

Moxxie was losing, as embarrassing as it was.

 

 

But he was trying—clawing, punching, hitting. He even thought he shot someone in the arm at some point. But it wasn’t enough. He saw two hounds shove Striker into a van as he screamed and reached out for help.

 

 

Moxxie could have sworn he heard Striker call for Stolas. Now, the other hounds were getting into the van, except for the one he held at gunpoint—the one who started all of this.

 

 

As the van sped away, Loona and Stolas finally teleported in front of him. “What happened?!” Stolas asked, noticing Striker wasn’t with them.

 

 

Moxxie didn’t respond immediately. He kicked the hellhound hard before finally answering, “His friends came and took Striker!” he raged, charging his gun and ready to shoot the hellhound’s head. “I’m going to kill him!”

 

 

However, before he could do anything else, Loona managed to stop him from shooting, and Stolas spoke up, having pieced together what happened. “No, leave him alive. I want answers. And once we save Striker, if there’s even one scratch on him,” his voice deepened with rage, making even the undead the where around them shiver, “not even God will stop me from ripping them all apart.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

 

“Hey Molly, listen, you have to stop,” Vassago told the spider sinner as he along with the rest of the camp gathered, called by Pentious to check on her. “You’re scaring us. Just tell us what’s wrong.” Vassago pleaded yet Molly kept working in silence, occasionally pausing from digging to catch her breath before continuing.

 

 

“How about this: come down, eat something, and drink some cold water. Then I’ll personally come up here with you. How does that sound?” Derek offered, reaching for the shovel, which she quickly pulled away. “Or what? You’ll have Andrealphus beat me like he did with Val?” she asked with hatred, swinging the shovel.

 

 

“That was a different reason, and you know it!” Derek said, dodging another attempted hit. “Val was hurting Angel; you’re hurting yourself—” He was cut off as Molly managed to hit his shoulder, causing him to wince.

 

 

That was the final straw for Andrealphus. He had enough and ripped the shovel from Molly as Stella harshly threw herself at her and held the struggling spider down. “Molly,” Angel finally spoke up, receiving a glare from her. “You need to stop!”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

 

“Are you sure this is it?” Stolas asked the half-beaten hellhound, throwing him at an abandoned location. The hellhound nodded fearfully, “Y-yes, your Highness, we brought him here.”

 

 

“You better not be lying, or else I’m shoving this bullet up your ass,” Loona threatened, aiming her gun exactly where she promised to shoot. The hound let out an arrogant huff. “Well, M is going to do the same thing to you…” However, Stolas didn’t hear the rest of the hound’s claim as he suddenly paused.

 

 

Someone had used his last name as their own.

 

 

Someone claimed to be a Goetia.

 

 

Yet, unlike how Stella and Andrealphus used it for their own purposes, this felt different.

 

 

This one felt right.

 

 

This one felt like it belonged.

 

 

Suddenly, he thought of Striker, and his instincts kicked in. How dire was the situation that Striker had to use his last name to feel safe? “Your Highness?” Moxxie’s uncertain tone brought him back to reality. “Yes, I am fine,” Stolas replied, pushing forward, ready to get this done and over with.

 

Notes:

Unearthed -Can refer to the act of discovering something hidden, either literally from the ground or figuratively by revealing something previously unknown or secret.

~~~~~

Don't worry chat Striker will be FINE

~~~~

Hey chat been asked to put deciders for when scene's change so I complied. From now on whenever a scene changes you'll be alerted by :
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you like the design I chose!

Chapter 9: I’m Just Made Up Of Bad Things

Summary:

Stolas will ensure his people’s safety, and some shit goes down back at the camp.

And :

He had it coming; he had it coming all along. Because if he used him and abused him, how could they tell us that he was wrong? He had it coming; he only had himself to blame. If you’d been there, if you’d seen it, I bet you would have done the same.

Notes:

Warnings Include : Blood, Gore, Murder, Death

After Molly was chained to a tree, Angel approached her with a water bottle. “Want some?” he asked. She quickly nodded and drank half of it in one gulp before turning to Angel.

 

“Can you pour the rest over my head?” Angel nodded and slowly poured it over her. “Thank you,” Molly said contentedly as she leaned her head against the tree.

 

 

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to hit Derek. It was an accident,” Molly spoke up after a few minutes of silence.

 

 

“Why were you diggin' holes?” Angel asked, causing her to shrug. “I had a two-part dream,” she responded flatly.

 

 

Angel: “What was it about?”

 

 

“I don’t remember… But it involved you, Stolas, Striker, Vassago. You, however, were screaming and crying out for someone I can’t recall. Then a flash forward happened, and I saw the most beautiful pair of green eyes, which I know none of the group has, so it must be someone new,” Molly explained as Angel listened intently. “For some odd reason, those beautiful green eyes seemed full of pain and full of secrets. They seemed to hold much more than we know, but other than that, I don’t remember anything else.”

 

 

After another pregnant pause, Molly asked, “When did Vassago say I can be set free?”

 

 

“I don’t know, probably when he deems you no longer a danger to yourself or others,” Angel replied as he sat next to her. The siblings remained silent for the rest of the hour.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

“Mat!” A small woman, likely a sinner, made her way Stolas and his group as they forced their way in. Her voice only irritated the Goetia further. “Where on earth have you been?! And boy, you have to warn a gal when royalty is coming!”

 

 

“Sorry, Mimzy ma’am, but they surprised us! We had no idea they were there!” the hound claimed, prompting Moxxie to shoot him on the leg. The hound cried out, which made Mimzy’s people pointed at him, but Moxxie didn’t care as he cried out, “Liar! You attacked us and took our teammate!”

 

 

“I am here for my people,” Stolas said coldly, glaring at her. “You took one of mine; I have one of yours. We can trade.”

 

 

The woman in the purple flapper dress chuckled and looked behind Stolas, noticing the bag of guns. Her eyes shone with greed. “Nah, honey, what we’re trading is my people, your handy bag of guns, and then I might just hand over that succubus since they’re getting pretty rare these days. So, what do you say?” she asked, audaciously reaching out her hand with a smug smile.

 

 

Stolas, however, did not reach for her hand. With a single swish of magic, he caused one of her people to fall dead on the ground, half her head and brain cleanly severed. “My name is Stolas Goetia, and my demand is that we only trade people. Guns are out of the question."

 

 

”O-of course!” Mimzy said nervously, her skin paling as she saw one of her people down. “W-whatever you say, Your Highness! How very rude of me,” she added with a nervous laugh, beginning to walk deeper inside, followed by two bodyguards. This was much easier than Stolas had anticipated.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

“I used your last name,” Striker confessed to Stolas as the group finally drove back home.

 

 

Stolas nodded. “I am aware.”

 

 

“That doesn’t mean I am part of your twisted family,” Striker quickly added, not taking his eyes off the window. He didn’t want the bird to ‘make him a Goetia'. 

 

 

Not to since, he was the reason his brother was missing in the first place, which he was still mad about!

 

 

“And that’s just fine by me,” Stolas spoke up, causing Striker to turn and face him with surprise in his eyes. “I only want you to feel safe,” Stolas continued. “If you don’t wish to be apart of ‘my twisted family’, then I wouldn’t force it upon you. That’s your choice, not mine.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Angel approached Valentino’s tent with a look of fear yet determination. He would try to change Valentino’s mind, even if he knew it was impossible. “Val?” he called out softly. “Time for dinner.”

 

 

“Get lost!” Valentino’s raging voice exploded as he turned to face Angel. His face was still messed up, but it wasn’t as ugly as Andrealphus had left it. “I’m not eating with fuckers tonight, you hear?!” he yelled, throwing a pillow at Angel.

 

 

Angel sighed and began to walk away, only to stop when Valentino spoke up again. “And you better bring Stella, yourself, and that succubus tonight. After all, it’ll be my reward for the emotional trauma I endured today. Once we’re done, you and I are leaving this camp as soon as the sun rises!”

 

 

The spider demon didn’t want to agree.

 

 

He wanted to say no.

 

 

He actually enjoyed this camp. He saw them as family.

 

 

He wanted to somehow stop this tragedy.

 

 

But he felt ghostly chains around his neck and sighed in defeat. “Yes… Valentino.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Valentino was shaken awake as his tent began to tremble, and as a shadow casted by the nearby fire appeared at the entrance. He growled, intending to give Angel a good beating. Did he not understand what time he was supposed to be here?

 

 

“What did I say—” he was cut off as multiple undead ripped open his tent and made their way inside, slowly tearing his skin and ripping apart his insides. He couldn’t even scream in pain as his mouth was being devoured at that very moment.

 

 

He couldn’t scream for help.

 

 

He couldn’t even scream at all.

 

 

As he felt the undead rip through his skin, tissue, and organs, he might have been high on pain. Or perhaps he was hallucinating, but he, very clearly, heard one of the undead whisper closely in his ear, "There's a cure out there.”

 

 

And finally, he could scream.

 

 

He screamed as the hallucination of the undead who ‘spoke' to him gave him an impossibly wide smile.

 

 

He screamed as the hallucination of the undead who ‘whispered’ in his ear laughed like a madman.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Molly stepped out of the RV, looking disappointedly at the group while holding up an empty roll of toilet paper, causing Stella and Andrealphus to burst into fits of laughter. “Are we out of toilet paper?” Molly asked, when suddenly she felt something grasp her hand.

 

 

She let out a yell as she felt something bury itself deep into her flesh.

 

 

Suddenly, that something dropped dead as Vassago shot it.

 

 

She shakily reached for her wrist.

 

 

It was bit.

 

 

She felt tears welling up.

 

 

No.

 

 

It can’t be happening.

 

 

She wasn’t just bit by an undead.

 

 

She wanted to live.

 

 

Just to at least celebrate her and Angel’s birthday properly.

 

 

It was so close.

 

 

“Were you bitten?” Vassago asked the spider demoness, who shook her head. “N-no…” she lied. She was bit.

 

 

But she wanted to hang on just a little longer.

 

 

Please, God, give her mercy.

 

 

“Everyone get in a circle!” Vassago commanded as the camp suddenly and without warning became overrun by a horde. The group did as told, putting Octavia and the grimoire in the middle as they shot, killed, and stabbed the undead. But there were too many, even with the other Goetia. They needed backup.

 

 

“Ugh, where is the rest of this pathetic group?!” an angry Stella demanded as she backed away from an incoming undead whose gnarled hands were reaching out to her.

 

 

“I thought you said we were expendable!” Derek suddenly declared as he stabbed the creature with his angelic weapon right in the forehead. That action caused Stella to gag and back away. “I want to hear you say we aren’t and that you’re wrong!”

 

 

Just as Stella was about to admit her defeat, a truck pulled up, and as it parked, the other survivors got out and quickly joined those who were actually trying to protect the camp.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

After a few more hours passed, the group still stood, alive and well, except for Valentino, whom Angel had dragged out of the tent and began to weep over.

 

 

He cried.

 

 

Angel cried.

 

 

He didn’t cry for Val.

 

 

For the person he turned into.

 

 

No, he cried for the person Valentino used to be.

 

 

A kind, loving, and respectful partner.

 

 

Someone who treasured him.

 

 

Yet he knew it was all a lie.

 

 

An act.

 

 

Yet he felt even worse as Striker held him close, allowing Angel to hug him. Angel felt like he needed to throw up. As Striker’s hands tried to soothe his trembling shoulders, Angel promised himself he wouldn’t let anything like what Valentino was planning happen to Striker again. He knew Valentino was a terrible person at heart, preying on the innocent.

 

 

So why was he crying for him? As he wiped away his mascara, he noticed Molly standing in the center of the undead with a blank expression. “Oh…” Molly spoke up, causing most of the group to turn toward her as she spoke with a trembling voice, “I remember half of my dream now.”

 

Notes:

I have decided that I’ll be adding Supernatural characters into this. I feel like it would be a good crossover. However I wouldn't be adding them till season three. Yet that wouldn't stop me from adding little clues that they will be showing up soon.

Chapter 10: I’m Really Not A Madman

Summary:

The gang are back on the road. The camp is no longer safe for them.

Notes:

Italics = Stolas trying to contact Mayberry

~~~~~

Warnings Include : Gun Shot, Death, Body Burning, Small Hints Of Suicide Talk, Throwing Up, Blood, Hallucinations, Small Hints Of Murder Attempt, Valentino Mentioned

“Mayberry, I don’t know if you can hear me or if you’re even listening, but I’ll always try to contact you. Listen, I found them. I found my daughter and my friend; they’re safe. They’ve let me join their group. However, something tragic happened last night.”

 

 

Angel was still cradling Valentino’s lifeless body, his mind spinning with a whirlwind of emotions. He felt a sense of relief that the thorn in his side was finally gone, but this relief quickly turned into guilt for thinking such a thing.

 

 

He missed Valentino.

 

 

But why would he miss him?

 

 

Why did he want him alive?

 

 

To abuse him?

 

 

To violate him?

 

 

“We need to kill that bastard,” Andrealphus said as he approached them, pointing a gun at Valentino’s head. He recoiled when Angel growled at him like a feral animal yet he couldn’t pounce at him due to Striker who still held him held him back. “Fine, do what you want,” Andrealphus said, walking away as he huffed.

 

 

Angel then felt Striker’s gentle hold be replaced by Vassago’s. “We need to end him, Angel, or else you know he’ll come back and that won’t be him,” the parrot said, as he pointed right at Valentino's head.

 

 

Just as Vassago was about to shoot Valentino, he came back. Valentino returned as an undead, weakly reaching out to Angel. Angel yelped, pushed him away, and without a second thought, he snatched Vassago's gun and pointed the gun at Valentino and shot him straight in the head without a second thought. 

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

“We were ambushed, Mayberry. A horde attacked our camp. We lost one. However, my group seems almost relieved and happy about his death. I haven’t had a chance to speak with him, but I heard Valentino was abusive towards Angel, so I’m glad he’s gone as well.”

 

 

Striker and Loona were seen dragging the undead bodies into graves that Molly had apparently dug yesterday due to a dream she had. They were about to throw Valentino into a very cramped grave, ready to set it on fire just like the last three before this one, when Moxxie approached. “Shouldn’t we bury Valentino somewhere else? I mean, he was part of our group.” the imp asked them.

 

 

“We only bury people who aren’t assholes and rapists,” Loona spat at Moxxie as her and Striker threw Valentino’s dead body into the grave before lighting the lighter and setting the bodies inside ablaze. The growing flames quickly consumed them, leaving Moxxie to sigh and accept the answer as he walked away.

 

 

“My ‘wife’ is upset her little side piece isn’t here to please and pleasure her anymore. However, something inside me tells me that Stella is planning something. Something bad, every time she stares at Striker a little too long... Speaking of Striker, he was kidnapped a day ago. Don’t worry, we managed to save him. But what I’m trying to say is this: we’re leaving. Our camp isn’t safe anymore.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

“I am insisting that we stay here,” Stella demanded as she approached Stolas, who had just finished loading the last bag into one of the cars they owned. “It doesn’t matter what you want,” Stolas retorted, glaring at her. “These people need me. They need walls.”

 

 

“Well, we can always add more cans to alert us if something were to happen. Besides, where are we even going?” an angry Andrealphus who had interjected in the conversation, demanded, striking the hood of a car.

 

 

Moxxie was then seen holding a map of all Hell and its rings, pointing to a very specific one.

 

 

“We’re headed to the Sloth Ring. Moxxie claims there are hellborns working on a cure there. The facility is only about a hundred miles away by car.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Molly and Derek were seen loading luggage into the RV. Molly was trying not to scratch the bite she had covered with a scarf, but it wasn’t hidden as well as she thought since Derek noticed it. “You’re bit?” he asked in horror, looking at her wrist, causing her to nod. “For how long?” he asked.

 

 

“Since last night. Please don’t tell anyone, especially not Angel. I’m fighting to live for our birthday. Please let me live until then. After that, I’ll disappear! I’ll shoot myself in the head if that’s what it takes. But please, for the love of everything good, don’t tell anyone!” Molly begged desperately, her eyes blurring with tears as she clung to Derek’s shirt.

 

 

Derek sighed.

 

 

He knew Molly wanted to end it all; he did too.

 

 

He didn’t want to keep living in a world like this.

 

 

Where you have to fight just to survive.

 

 

He was getting exhausted.

 

 

“Alright, I’ll keep your secret,” Derek promised a now-relieved Molly, who thanked him. That same evening, everyone got into their own cars and the RV, ready for their next destination.

 

 

With a new goal in mind.

 

 

With a renewed surge of hope.

 

 

“So, I hope to see you in Sloth pretty soon, Mayberry. Do you have anything to say?” The voice paused, letting the static and chatter of the radio be the only sound accompanying the owl during the silence before he sighed and repeated, “Mayberry, do you copy?” Nothing. She didn’t answer. “Alright then… This is Stolas Goetia signing off.” The radio went dead as it was turned off.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

After a long day on the road, the group decided to stop for the night. As they set up camp once more on an empty road, Andrealphus walked towards Vassago. “Are you alright with us following this idiot’s lead? What if he sends us to our deaths?”

 

 

“He is my best friend,” Vassago answered, as if that would solve everything. “Wherever he goes, me, Octavia, and it seems everyone else in the group except you and Stella think the same.”

 

 

Andrealphus scoffed arrogantly, “Fine, do as you wish, but know this: I will get this group back under my control. Stolas isn’t this group’s leader—I am.”

 

 

“Sure, pendejo, keep thinking you and Stella have control over this group,” Vassago said sarcastically, only for his hand to be roughly grabbed by an angry Andrealphus, causing Vassago to glare at him. “You’re just mad Stolas is slowly gaining respect from this group. You’re mad that Stolas would let everyone in this group use our last name and let them be part of the Goetias,” Vassago spat as he pulled his hand from Andrealphus’s grip.

 

 

“I know that both you and Stella felt it when Striker used our last name. You both felt the control and connection to it slowly falter because you know Striker is supposed to be with Stolas, not Stella. And I know the two of you are praying that he doesn’t find his other partner because that’s when you truly lose the grip on the Goetia name,” Vassago said, accusingly pointing at an angry Andrealphus.

 

 

“You’re both angry that your time of ‘royalty’ is running out. That the whole group will take the Goetia last name whether they’re related to us by blood or not. I’ll give it to the end of the month when Stolas officially calls this group our family—Derek, Molly, Moxxie, Loona, Striker, Pentious, fuck even Angel Dust will have our last name. It’s only a matter of when,” Vassago finished his speech with a smug grin as he watched Andrealphus walk away angrily.

 

 

Vassago wasn’t angry.

 

 

He had already accepted the group as his family.

 

 

The way they each ensured Octavia was cared for was more than he could have asked for.

 

 

And the more he thought about it…

 

 

Both Loona and Striker seemed more worthy of the last name.

 

 

Well, not Loona directly.

 

 

But someone close to her.

 

 

Now that someone and Striker seemed just right for Stolas.

 

 

If only they could find that person.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Molly was in the RV’s bathroom, hunched over and vomiting her lunch. Her body shook from the heat; she must have a fever. With a shaky hand, she wiped away her sweat and leaned back against the wall, trying to absorb its coolness.

 

 

She then shakily removed the scarf covering her bite mark, which was an angry shade of red. Her breath quickened as she began to hallucinate.

 

 

She saw Valentino in his undead form.

 

 

She saw those hungry eyes.

 

 

She saw how he reached for her.

 

 

“Angel loves you… You are his hermana, so I am taking you with me,” Valentino’s undead form spoke to her between growls and snarls.

 

 

She shook her head and curled up, trying to avoid the crooked hands of the moth reaching for her. “I promised Angel I’ll take everything he loves, chiquita…” Valentino’s undead voice echoed in her head, and she couldn’t help it. She screamed.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Stolas, Andrealphus, and Pentious were searching the nearby woods. They were ensuring there weren’t any undead around. While Stolas was looking for the undead, he had a side quest: he was still searching for Jason, which is why he wasn’t focused when Andrealphus, who was only a few steps behind him, held him at gunpoint.

 

 

Andrealphus smirked wickedly as he held Stolas right where he wanted him. He could end it all. He could prevent this pathetic lower-class group from stealing his last name. He was fine with Pentious getting his last name since he’s an overlord, which makes him some type of royalty. But the imps? The hellhound? The succubus?! The porn star and his sister?

 

 

Oh, how he hated that succubus.

 

 

He should have listened to his gut when it told him that he was a bad addition to the group.

 

 

That he was going to start problems.

 

 

That just by staying alive, that half-succubus threatened his and his beautiful sister’s place as true Goetias.

 

 

He would have ended It all if it wasn’t for a low gasp, which made Andrealphus quickly turn to see a worried, horror-filled Pentious. “I thought I saw something move,” Andrealphus answered carelessly and began to walk away from them. He knew Pentious didn’t believe his lie in the slightest.

 

 

But he didn’t care.

 

 

Pentious just had to keep his mouth shut.

 

 

Or else he’d be next on his hit list.

 

Notes:

Spanish Lessons :
Pendejo = Idiot
Hermans =Sister
Chiquita = Little girl

Chapter 11: The Voices Keep Asking

Summary:

The group makes it to the Sloth Ring looking for answers.

Notes:

Italics = Stolas trying to contact Mayberry

~~~~~~~~

Warnings include : Thoughts of Suicide, Drinking

“You may have heard from me yesterday, Mayberry. If not, I’ll give you a brief update: We’re moving to Sloth, where we’ve been staying isn’t safe anymore. So, please don’t come here. If you do, I’ll leave you a note with directions.”

 

 

Stolas was then seen writing on a sticky note and placing it near a tree branch. “What ya doin’?” he heard Striker ask, causing him to turn to a suspicious cowboy. "Oh, um, leaving a note,” he answered nervously.

 

 

“Is it for the one you’re tryin’ to reach through the radio?” Striker questioned as he leaned against a tree and saw Stolas begin to do a spell on the sticky note. He tried reaching out for the bird but stopped himself. “Fine, do what ya want. We’ll wait fer ya.” he decided before looking at Stolas one last time and making his way back to the group.

 

 

“If you pass around here, I’ve put two spells on the sticky note: one to make it invisible to anyone except you and Esmer,” Stolas explained after finishing the two spells.

 

 

He quickly teleported to the car that Moxxie was chosen to drive, as the imp insisted that even at the end of Hell, one must ride responsibly—a sentiment Pentious agreed with, which is why he chose to ride the RV.

 

 

“The second spell is a tracking spell. If you find this place, your gut will feel as if you’re being pulled somewhere. Please follow it. It’ll lead you to the sticky note that contains our location,” he said. Suddenly, there was a pause, and just like always, the bird’s question echoed, “Mayberry… do you copy?” There was no response. He hung up.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

In a faraway place deep within the Sloth Ring and inside an old underground laboratory stood a sheep. However, this wasn’t just any normal sheep. This was Belphegor, the personification of sloth—the sin, if you will.

 

 

Right now, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days, causing her head to slowly fall and her eyes to close, but she would always catch herself before she could properly fall asleep.

 

 

She was recording herself before she yawned, “It’s been a few months since Hell’s downfall. Sure, I’ve figured out why this epidemic was released and know who did it. But now, I’m too tired to care. As you can see, King Lucifer, I haven’t been able to sleep in a long time. Being underground isn’t helping me maintain my schedule.”

 

 

Belphegor let out a sigh, “I found out something extraordinary. I accidentally fell asleep while trying to write down a note in my notebook, causing me to have a vision. It was a prophecy, but it was in Valyrian. I quickly wrote it down as you’ll soon see.” She said as she excitedly showed the camera the neatly written prophecy.

 

 

“As I am speaking to you, my king, I am trying to decode it. I only have the first two lines, but please don’t be disappointed! I assure you, I’ll crack the code and find a cure for this outbreak. That’s a promise,” Belphegor said as she turned off the camera, causing her professional façade to break into her tired one.

 

 

She had been promising a cure since all of this started.

 

 

Yet she couldn’t even crack the code of a simple prophecy.

 

 

Man, she needed company.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

After she was done recording, she was dressed in her lab coat in her laboratory. She held a small piece of tissue of skin from the undead imp on her metal table and put it under the microscope, zooming in close enough to see the cells. Then she swapped the undead’s skin with a skin that wasn’t infected.

 

 

She could clearly see the difference. The undead's cells—red blood cells—were a different color than the healthy non undead cells, which was something not new to her. She already knew this.

 

 

As she moved the microscope, she accidentally spilled the beakers of liquid onto the tissue. “Shit,” she muttered as she tried desperately to clean it with her gloved hands. She didn’t care that it was contaminated.

 

 

Suddenly, an alarm went off, causing Belphegor to rush out of the laboratory into a small room where she pressed a button and removed her attire as puffs of air and water began to decontaminate her.

 

 

As she was done with the process, a masculine robotic voice could be heard through the speakers, “RISK OF CONTAMINATION. IT ISN’T SAFE ANYMORE. LABORATORY SHALL BE BLOWN UP.”

 

 

“No!” Belphegor yelled with desperation as the countdown began and the laboratory exploded, engulfing all its contents in pink flames.

 

 

She couldn’t do anything else other than watch her hard work disappear.

 

 

She couldn’t help but scream.

 

 

She’ll have to start all over again!!

 

 

But she didn’t have all the time she wanted.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

“I failed you, my king,” Belphegor said with a saddened tone as she looked at the camera recording her. This time, she didn’t care if her professional façade had broken; she didn’t care at all. She let out a manic laugh, “You’re not even listening to this, huh?” she asked the camera as she poured herself a full glass of wine. “I am probably talking to ghosts.”

 

 

She chugged the whole glass of wine, “Who knows? Maybe all of Hell and Heaven are gone. No one truly will care if I ended up blowing myself and this place up.” She paused before taking out the notebook where the prophecy was written in, “I only managed to figure out two lines of this prophecy, so might as well say it out loud. Not like anyone is going to hear it.”

 

 

Belphegor cleared her throat, “Green eyes full of secrets, Green eyes full of pain.” She paused before sighing in disappointment, “ This is all I got so far. I am so sorry, my king… Lady Lilith… Princess Charlie, if any of you can hear me, please answer my call.”

 

 

As she was about to turn off her camera, she noticed something from the camera that tracked every movement outside her establishment. She couldn’t believe it.

 

 

She let out a watery sigh of relief.

 

 

Those were living beings.

 

 

Her call was answered.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Stolas and the group had made it to the Sloth Ring, right where Moxxie had suggested they travel to. “Alright, so what now?” Loona asked Stolas as they all got out of the car. “Their bodies… upon bodies out here the air smells like rotten flesh; we can’t stay here for long or else this place will be our grave,” Loona pointed out.

 

 

“Well, we just knock on the door,” Stolas answered as he pointed at a metal door. “And you think someone will answer it?” Octavia asked her father with sarcasm.

 

 

“Hopefully,” Stolas replied as he went up to the door and began knocking on it at a quick speed.

 

 

“Ugh, they better answer. I deserve a beauty sleep,” Stella said as she crossed her arms. She’d been this angry and bitchy since Valentino had died, which caused Angel to subconsciously hold Striker’s shoulders in a protective manner. Stella looked at the half-succubus for a little too long before looking away. That only made Angel sigh in relief, though he didn’t let go of Striker’s shoulders.

 

 

“Ya alright—” Striker was about to ask a tense Angel who held on to him in a protective manner before Molly screamed out, causing the rest of the group to gather closer. Multiple undead began to reach for them.

 

 

Stolas’s pounding on the door became more desperate as he heard the snarls and groans of the undead and how his group began attacking said undead. “Stolas, we got to go,” Vassago said as he tried to pull Stolas away from the metal door.

 

 

However, Stolas wouldn’t budge. He was still stubbornly hitting the door, “I am not leaving!” he demanded as he backed up and glared at the camera with his glowing red eyes, “You’re killing us! You’ll have our blood on your hands if you don’t open this goddamned door!”

 

 

“Stolas!” Striker called out as he shot an undead reaching out to him, causing the blue bird to face him, “We gotta go! It ain’t safe if we stay—”

 

 

“We’re not dying here!” Stolas, angry, cut off the cowboy as his gaze filled with hatred and desperation as he looked at the camera, “I am Prince Stolas of the Arcs Goetia and I command you to open this damn door! Now!”

 

 

Just as he demanded, Octavia managed to kill the last undead that ambushed them as a soft, almost sleepy voice spoke up, opening the doors to the institution wide. “Take whatever you hold dear,” the feminine voice cracked through the outside speakers, “Because as soon as these doors close, they’ll never open again.”

 

Notes:

Yay Belphegor was now introduced! How nice!

Chapter 12: Born With The Soul That Don’t Wanna Be Saved

Summary:

Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Look at what’s in front of you.
(Boots. Boots. Boots. Boots. Movin’ up an’ down again);
Men. Men. Men. Men. Men go mad with watchin’ em

Notes:

Italics = Flashbacks

~~~~

Warnings Include : Destruction Of Property, Stella, Vomiting, Pleading To Be Shot, Drinking, Drunk People ( *cough, cough * Moxxie *cough, cough* )

Timeline: Day of the Apocalypse

 

There was screaming.

 

 

That was the first thing Vassago heard as he opened the door to Stolas’s hospital room. He saw Satan’s military passing by, fully armed and covered head to toe in armor. The smell of smoke invaded his nostrils, and he quickly managed to stop a nurse. “Ma’am, please… You have to tell me—”

 

 

He didn’t get to finish his plea before the frightened nurse looked at him with fearful eyes, ripped her hand from his grasp, and rushed out with the other staff members and patients. What was going on?!

 

 

Was there another extermination happening?

 

 

No, it was far too early.

 

 

Ignoring the panic in the hospital, he made his way back to his comatose friend. “Stolas,” Vassago began with desperation and a hint of fear but quickly ducked down under the bed as a soldier entered, holding a rifle. The soldier did a quick survey of the room before leaving and closing the door behind him.

 

 

After a few minutes passed, Vassago gained the courage to lift himself up and desperately began to shake Stolas. “Come on, man…” He looked at the heart monitor and quickly turned to face Stolas. “ Por favor I need you to give me a sign… I-I don’t know what’s going on, but just give me a sign that you’ll wake—” Suddenly, a bomb exploded.

 

 

The whole hospital shook, causing the heart monitors to turn off, and Vassago’s eyes grew wide. “No, no, no, no, no…” Vassago repeated as he shook the unconscious Stolas. Nothing. “I’ll be back,” Vassago whispered to Stolas as he once again opened the room’s door and quickly rushed out.

 

 

The smoke became denser after the bomb went off, and he could see the hallway was a mess. Beds were pushed in front of some doors. Hell born’s and sinners alike screamed in fear and agonizing pain.

 

 

Vassago shivered; he didn’t like this feeling at all.

 

 

Especially the sight of those dead bodies.

 

 

He was walking around trying to get some help when he made eye contact with a man. Except… it wasn’t truly a man. His left cheek was bitten. He was snarling and growling, his eyes filled with hunger. Vassago noticed the man had a twisted ankle. He rushed to him, but a soldier caught him and began to pull him away.

 

 

“What are you doing?! No, wait, my friend is in there!” Vassago cried out as he was dragged further and further away from Stolas’s room. “Let me go back!”

 

 

“Your Highness, it isn’t safe for you here!” the hellhound holding him barked out. “You’re our top priority; we need to keep you safe!” Those were the last words Vassago heard, causing him to huff. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he made a bed appear right in front of Stolas’s room, preventing anyone from entering.

 

Timeline: Now

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Vassago shook his head, dispelling the memory as he and the others managed to get inside the facility. The room itself was eerily dark. All the lights seemed to be turned off. “So what now?” Angel asked, breaking the unsettling quiet as he held both Molly and Striker.

 

 

“Guess we split up into groups of two and see if we deem this place safe,” Stolas ordered the group. They were about to follow his instructions when suddenly the sound of a gun charging echoed, causing Moxxie to point his weapon at the source, only to quickly drop it in amazement.

 

 

“Is that…?” Moxxie asked Stolas, pointing at the sheep with a candle atop her head. Stolas nodded, “It is… She’s Belphegor, the Sin of Sloth.” He said before he, Andrealphus, Stella, Vassago, and Octavia quickly bowed down to show their respect. “Your honor,” Vassago spoke up, “We are grateful for your hospitality.”

 

 

“Well… you’re not in the clear yet,” Belphegor responded as she lowered her weapon but not her guard. Although she had prayed for these people, half of them were strangers to her. “I need a blood test from each and every one of you.”

 

 

“What? Seeing us here alive and well don't count?” Striker asked with sass, only to be painfully punched by Stella. “Watch your tone around her!” Stella dangerously warned, “Or else there’ll be consequences…” Her tone was almost seductive, causing Angel to step between them and glare at her, “Fuck off,” he warned.

 

 

Stella seemed unwilling to back down until Stolas intervened, “Back. Down.” he commanded, causing Stella to grit her teeth, huff, and return to her original place next to her brother.

 

 

“It’s a safety precaution. Besides, you never know what people are hiding these days. So please, just let me do this,” Belphegor pleaded with the group, who exchanged glances. “Sure thing!” Angel quickly agreed as he hugged his twin tightly, “We’ve got nothing to hide, right Molly?”

 

 

Molly froze as she made eye contact with Derek, seeing the same fear reflected in his eyes because she did, in fact, have something to hide.

 

 

“Molly?” Angel asked again, this time less certain, which prompted Molly to quickly nod and put on a cheerful façade, “Of course!” she agreed, replacing Angel’s worry with happiness. “You heard her!” Derek suddenly spoke up as he too wrapped Molly in a hug, “We have nothing to hide.”

 

 

Stolas nodded before turning to Moxxie and Loona, who were suspiciously quiet. Moxxie just nodded, and Loona rolled her eyes, which he took as agreement. “Alright, let’s get those blood tests done.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Molly was the last to have her blood drawn. As the needle finally left her vein, she felt her body tremble as she stood up from the chair, becoming dizzy and losing her balance. Fortunately, Derek was there to catch her before she hit the ground.

 

 

Belphegor reached out for the falling girl, as did most of the group. Thankfully, the imp named Derek caught her. However, Belphegor noticed something on Molly’s wrist, particularly the one covered by a scarf.

 

 

It looked like it was bleeding, an open wound seeping through the fabric, which set off alarm bells in Belphegor’s mind. “Are you—” the sheep began, only for Derek to quickly interject, “I am so sorry, my lady. It’s just that she hasn’t eaten in a long time.”

 

 

Derek hoped she would believe his flimsy excuse.

 

 

Suddenly, Stolas nodded, unknowingly reinforcing the half-truth as he spoke up, “None of us have… We haven’t eaten in a few days.”

 

 

“Ah, well, you’re in luck!” Belphegor cheered, clapping her hands together and smiling brightly, completely ignoring the previous conversation, which made both Molly and Derek sigh in relief. “I have plenty of food saved up in the pantry! We’ll have a feast today, but first, let me take you to your rooms, yeah?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she began to lead them down the seemingly endless hallways.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

“J.A.R.V.I.S., turn on the lights,” Belphegor commanded as they entered another dark hallway.

 

 

“Lights turned on,” a sudden male voice announced through the speakers, causing the group to jump in surprise. “Fear not, J.A.R.V.I.S. means no harm,” Belphegor reassured them before pausing in a hallway lined with doors. “This hallway contains bedrooms. Pair up for sleeping arrangements and take a hot shower. I shall await you within an hour.” With a magical swish of pink sand, she vanished.

 

 

“Wait… Did she say ‘hot water’?” an overly excited Derek asked Angel, who seemed to share his enthusiasm. “That’s what tits said,” Angel confirmed, and both of them proceeded to hold hands and shriek with excitement. They were about to leave when Stolas momentarily paralyzed them. “Wait,” the owl said, “We need sleeping arrangements.” As he spoke, he released Angel and Derek from his spell.

 

 

“Here’s what I thought: Angel, you’re with Molly; Octavia will share with Loona; Derek and Moxxie; me and Vassago; Andrealphus and Stella; and finally, I guess Striker could stay alone, just like Pentious here, who suggested having his own room,” Stolas said, turning worriedly to Striker. “Are you alright with that?”

 

 

Striker didn’t like the idea of having his own room. It could be because he was going to sleep in a place he’d never been before or perhaps the unsettling feeling in his gut telling him to share a room with someone else.

 

 

It might also have been the uncomfortable goosebumps on his skin as he felt Stella eyeing him oddly.

 

 

He didn’t like that look at all.

 

 

It made him feel dirty.

 

 

 It made him feel used.

 

 

“Striker?” Stolas’s concerned voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Yeah?” he responded, clearing his throat.

 

 

“Are you sure you want to be alone? Angel and I don’t mind sharing,” Stolas offered, calculating his every move. “Nah, I’m fine,” Striker replied, adjusting his cowboy hat. “Let’s settle into our rooms and meet back here in ten minutes?” Striker suggested to Stolas, who nodded and turned to the rest of the group. “You heard the man. Get going.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

After showering, Pentious slithered through the hall, greeting a freshly showered Stolas when he heard it: vomiting. The sound came from Angel and Molly’s room. After a brief internal debate, he knocked on their door, but no one answered. So, the most rational thing to do was to pick the lock, which he did.

 

 

Upon entering, he quickly covered his nose and dashed to the bathroom, where Molly was bent over, throwing up into the toilet. Pentious swiftly slithered in and helped by holding her hair away from the mess. “It’s alright, everything is going to be fine,” he whispered into her ear as she emptied her stomach.

 

 

Once she was done, Molly flushed the toilet and leaned back against the cold wall, clutching her growling, painful stomach. She knew what it wanted—of course, she did—but she wasn’t going to give in. “Shoot me…” she pleaded with Pentious, who looked at her in shock, clearly not expecting such a request. “What…?” Pentious asked, too shocked to form a proper sentence.

 

 

“Please…” Molly weakly begged, clinging to Pentious’s comforting shirt. “I can’t turn into one of them! I-I can’t let Valentino have that satisfaction!”

 

 

“Wait, wait, what?” Pentious finally managed to ask, snapping out of his confusion. “Why should I shoot you? The only way to turn into them is if you regenerate or get bit—” His statement trailed off as Molly pulled away the scarf covering one of her most hated secrets: the bite marks of the undead.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

A few minutes later, the group found themselves at the dinner table, laughing and celebrating. That was until Stella and Vassago started arguing. “I’m telling you, Vassago, this is Hell; there is no drinking age!” she angrily declared, downing her fourth glass of wine.

 

 

“No, she will drink when she’s eighteen. I don’t care that we’re in Hell,” Vassago insisted, his eye twitching. “Besides, it might be dangerous for her!” As Vassago claimed this, Pentious spoke up, “Actually,” the snake began with professional authority, “alcohol can be dangerous to children because…” However, as he continued listing facts, no one seemed to pay attention—not even Octavia.

 

 

Octavia just stared at the glass of wine, grabbed it, and chugged it down. She instantly regretted it, coughing and pushing the glass back to Vassago. “Eww…” she said in disgust, causing her mom and uncle, who were definitely drunk by now, to laugh. “That’s right, niña: Eww,” Vassago said, patting Octavia’s head, sharing a proud look with Stolas.

 

 

“Hey, wanna trade?” Striker softly asked Octavia, offering her a soda can with Beelzebub’s logo on it. “Here, soda for the wine?” Octavia didn’t need to be told twice; in the blink of an eye, she swapped drinks, cracked open the can, and chugged it down. Unlike the wine, she didn’t spit it out.

 

 

“Wow, little lady, that shit isn’t going anywhere!” Loona told Octavia with a laugh at the display before turning to Angel. “How are you doing?”

 

 

Angel just nodded, about to answer when he noticed something: Stolas was looking at Striker with soft eyes as Octavia and he were having a conversation. Suddenly, it felt as if his brain was doing math for the first time and crashed. He knew that look! Stolas was most definitely in love!

 

 

Oh yeah! Angel would have fun being a wingman. “I’m good,” he answered Loona, taking a sip from his wine glass to hide his knowing smirk.

 

 

“Hey, Moxxie,” Striker suddenly called out to the imp, who turned to him. “Octavia and I are bettin' a soda can that you won’t be able ta drink seven glasses of wine without passin' out drunk,” he said confidently, his tail swaying, causing most of the people who heard him to go ‘ooohh.’ Moxxie, however, just scoffed. “Fine, I’m going to make you eat those words,” Moxxie said, accepting the challenge by taking a glass of wine.

 

 

Molly had a content smile as she watched this whole beautiful scene unfold, feeling as though she might cry. This would be her last night feeling like this. She could die happily as she memorized how happy everyone looked.

 

 

She memorized their bright, caring smiles.

 

 

She memorized how, despite Hell being worse than ever outside these four walls, everyone seemed to be having a good time.

 

 

Which was just fine with her.

 

 

She took in a ragged breath, memorizing the scent of food.

 

 

It was decided: this would be the last memory she would hold onto as she died.

 

 

Moxxie lost the bet. He was drunk as could be, his head leaning on the table while Derek voluntarily massaged his shoulders. “Man, I’m actually surprised he lasted as long as he did,” Striker told Loona as he passed Octavia another can of soda, causing the girl’s eyes to light up. “I’m surprised he's even still standing," Loona said with matching amazement.

 

 

However, Moxxie must have heard something else entirely in his drunken state, and with slurred speech, he demanded, “I am not a possum.” He spat, causing Derek to chuckle, which then turned into laughter as Moxxie kept repeating that phrase over and over again, each time more desperate as if he were having an identity crisis.

 

 

Stolas then noticed Belphegor; she looked like she wasn’t really present, as if she were in a far-off place. Then it hit him: they hadn’t properly thanked her for this opportunity. So, as he stood up, holding his glass high, he tapped it with a fork, causing everyone, even Belphegor, to face him.

 

 

“It seems we haven’t properly thanked our Ladyship yet,” he said in his professional prince tone. “My lady, we’re honored you let us all have a second chance. Thank you,” he said, offering a toast, which some of the group returned.

 

 

Belphegor only sent Stolas a small smile. “You’re welcome,” she told the owl as he sat back down. A few minutes after Stolas sat down, Molly quickly got up, preparing a toast of her own. “To our salvation.” That prompted Angel to get up and toast with her. “May we have many more years to live!” he cheered as he closed his eyes.

 

 

Molly was grateful Angel blinked.

 

 

She didn’t want him to see her flinch at that comment.

 

 

She didn’t want him to know that this would be the last week she’d celebrate with him, with these people.

 

 

But that’s just fine.

 

 

She’d enjoy it while she could.

 

 

However, the happy moment was ruined when Andrealphus looked Stolas dead in the face, cleared his throat, and spoke up. “While I’m enjoying this little party going on…” He paused dramatically before continuing, “I feel as if we should be asking our lady here what we originally came to ask: how did Hell descend into this epidemic?”

 

Notes:

Spanish to English Translation :

Por favor = Please
Niña = Girl

Chapter 13: Every Time I Look Around

Summary:

The team discovers why the apocalypse happened and while Striker managed to avoid Valentino he failed miserably to avoid Stella

Notes:

Warnings Include :

Destruction Of Property, Death, Suicide, Stella, Attempt Sexual Assault

However nothing really happens but if you wish to skip that scene just look for :
******************

It’ll tell you when the scene starts and where it ends. I am sorry here’s some tissues * I say as I handed everyone a box of tissues *

Also : Bold and Italic means that J. A
R. V. I. S is talking!!

“Buzzkill…” Moxxie muttered after hearing Andrealphus ask that question. Everyone had ignored it until Stolas finally spoke up.

 

 

“We’re celebrating, Andrealphus,” Stolas said sternly but gently. “Besides, half the table is drunk as hell and won’t even make it to the room where Miss. Belphegor will explain everything. Besides it’s already late—we should all head to bed. We have all the time in the world.”

 

 

Andrealphus didn’t look happy, but he couldn’t help agreeing. He knew his beloved sister was far too drunk for any explanation to stick, so he rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed in frustration. “Fine,” he spat as he stood up and quickly scooped up his sister. “We’re both leaving!” he announced. “But we’d better get answers first thing in the morning!”

 

 

Derek sighed as he watched them leave, then gently picked up Moxxie. “Alright, me and Mox here are heading to our room. Good night,” he said, carrying Moxxie—who still insisted he wasn’t a possum—which left Striker wondering: what was his beef with possums?

 

 

“Alright, good night!” Stolas called, waving as Derek left with Moxxie.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

The last ones remaining were Striker, Angel, Octavia, and Loona, who had all gathered in the library. Octavia was reading a book while Loona was passed out in a chair.

 

 

“I see the way Stolas looks at you,” Angel teased Striker, wiggling his eyebrows.

 

 

“What do you mean?” Striker asked, turning to face him.

 

 

“He’s giving you the ‘I love you’ look,” Angel replied with a smirk, causing Striker to snicker.

 

 

“Nah, yer seeing things,” Striker said, giving Angel a playful punch on the shoulder.

 

 

“No, trust me—I can spot true love from a mile away!” Angel grinned, his smirk widening.

 

 

“He probably just looked at me like that because he got a dust particle in his eye,” Striker joked.

 

 

Angel stared at Striker as if he’d been shot, thinking, Man, this guy has some serious self-esteem issues. “Sure…” Angel said, watching as Striker lifted Loona.

 

 

Angels then tried reaching out to him, “Are you sure you want to sleep alone? I can share my room with you—I’m sure Molly wouldn’t mind—”

 

 

“Nah, I’m good,” Striker promised, lifting Loona and tapping Octavia’s shoulder to signal her that it was time to go. The owlet quickly rose from her chair.

 

 

“I’ll take these two ladies to their rooms. See you tomorrow, alright?” Striker said, not waiting for an answer before leaving with Loona and Octavia, leaving an anxious Angel behind.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Striker had just finished cleaning his angelic rifle when the door to his room slowly opened. He was so focused that he didn’t notice Stella quietly entering and leaning against the wall.

 

 

She watched him for a moment before grabbing the doorknob and, with one loud and harsh motion, slammed the door shut behind her. Striker tensed and turned to face her.

 

 

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Striker asked.

 

 

Stella just laughed, swaying slightly. “Well, I want to be in my room…” she slurred, revealing just how drunk she was.

 

***********************************

 

“You’re in the wrong room,” Striker said, but in the blink of an eye, Stella managed to pin him against the wall. He hissed in pain as she leaned in closer.

 

 

“Nah, I don’t think I am…” she whispered seductively.

 

 

“Stella, you’re drunk,” Striker said, trying to be the reasonable one as he struggled to free himself from her surprisingly strong grasp.

 

 

“So what?!” Stella yelled, her voice filled with rage. “Valentino promised me a wonderful night with him, Angel, and you before he died! Sure, he isn’t here to keep his promise, but I am!” she raged angrily.

 

 

Striker froze. Valentino and Angel promised what?! Suddenly, all the trust and respect he had for the spider demon vanished.

 

 

“This is what you get for trusting others too quickly, bro…” Jason’s taunting voice echoed in his mind. “They stab you in the back… The question is: what are you going to do about it? Be a coward and take it?”

 

 

No. He was not.

 

 

Just as Striker heard Stella unbuckle his belt, he managed to free his hand from her grip and slapped her—hard.

 

 

He struck her so forcefully that even if she hadn’t been drunk, she would have lost her balance. Taking advantage of the moment, he pushed her away, causing her to stumble to the ground.

 

***********************************

 

Stella shakily reached for her swollen cheek. When she pulled her hand away, she saw a few beads of blood. Did Striker scratch her when he slapped her? Before she could react or defend herself, the sound of a gun cocking made her freeze. She turned and found herself staring down the barrel.

 

 

Striker, hands trembling, held the gun to Stella’s head and demanded in a dangerous whisper, “Out.”

 

 

Stella didn’t need to be told twice. But before leaving, she turned to Striker and hissed, “This isn’t over.” Then she slammed the door behind her.

 

 

Striker lost it.

 

 

He screamed into a random pillow, then somehow found the strength to shove a heavy metal desk against the door. For extra precaution, he locked all four locks on the door. Afterward, he slid down the nearest wall, hugged his knees, and cried.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

The next day, half the group gathered for breakfast. Moxxie massaged his head, clearly suffering from the worst hangover of his life.

 

 

“Don’t you ever dare me to drink again,” he groaned, glaring at Striker, who seemed out of it as he listlessly played with his food, dark circles under his eyes.

 

 

“Whatever…” the cowboy muttered tiredly.

 

 

Angel and Stolas exchanged glances, as if trying to figure something out. Angel could feel guilt slowly consuming him—but what guilt?

 

 

Suddenly, Stella made her way to the kitchen table and stretched. As she sat next to Andrealphus, the peacock asked, “My beautiful sister, whatever happened to your perfect cheek?” His question drew everyone’s attention to her.

 

 

Stella shrugged, still hungover, but managed to glare at a tense Striker. “I don’t know… Must’ve done it in my sleep,” she replied to Andrealphus’s question.

 

 

“Huh…” Andrealphus responded. “That’s odd. You’ve never damaged that glorious face of yours before.”

 

 

“Yeah…” Stella spat venomously, her glare of hatred toward Striker deepening. “I don’t know what came over me.”

 

 

She thought everyone would be oblivious. She thought no one would notice the true meaning behind her words. But Angel did—oh, he did. He felt his blood run cold, his stomach drop as he connected the dots. He remembered… Oh no. Is that why Striker was so cold to him when Angel greeted him this morning?

 

 

Angel suddenly felt like he might throw up.

 

 

He left the table, feeling an overwhelming urge to tear Stella apart.

 

 

But the most important question in Angel’s mind was: What did Stella tell Striker to make the cowboy hate him so much? Angel didn’t know, but by God’s good grace, he was determined to find out.

 

 

“Lady Belphegor…” Sir Pentious greeted suddenly as the personification of sloth made her way into the kitchen. “I apologize for asking questions this early—”

 

 

“But you’ll do it anyway,” Belphegor cut him off, making herself some coffee as Pentious nodded. “Yesterday, you promised us an explanation,” Pentious reminded her.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

“The reason this epidemic even happened is because Heaven wanted to destroy any trace of Hell,” Belphegor finally admitted as they returned to the laboratory after breakfast. “They feared that some hell beings would go up against their precious exterminators, so Heaven created this virus.”

 

 

A few gasps went around the room. “But it didn’t go as planned, huh?” Molly asked. Belphegor nodded.

 

 

Belphegor : “Correct. The epidemic not only attacked us hell beings, but also them. And when they tried to look for a cure…”

 

 

“They failed?” Vassago finished her sentence, causing Belphegor to nod again.

 

 

Belphegor : “Yes. They wanted to wipe us all out but didn’t expect the tables to turn on them. And the one angel who knew the cure had fallen a long time ago—and no, it’s not Lucifer. It’s someone else.”

 

 

Stolas asked, “Do you have any information about this angel?”

 

 

Belphegor shook her head. “No. The only thing I know is that he was known as the Angel of Thursday.”

 

 

That caused Stella to let out a loud laugh that echoed through the walls. “What a pathetic way to be remembered! No wonder he fell! If I were remembered by a day of the week, I’d be so fucking embarrassed!” Her comment made Stolas and Octavia glare at her. How dare she insult someone they’d never met—especially an angel?

 

 

“Stella, calm yourself,” Stolas demanded, grateful when she actually listened—or perhaps she was just shocked that he spoke back to her so firmly.

 

 

He didn’t care. Suddenly, he spoke up, “They didn’t expect us to survive this.” Stolas held Octavia tightly. “They thought they could get rid of us.” He scoffed. “Pathetic. If they saw that a few of us are still standing, they’d be furious.”

 

 

“Looks like we aren’t as worthless as they thought,” Angel said, his smirk turning determined. “I suggest we show Heaven that a bunch of nobodies—hellborns and sinners—made it through whatever shit they threw at us. I’m going to live through this just to laugh in their pathetic, bitchy faces.”

 

 

“Then what?” Molly asked Angel. “There’s no cure for this. We can’t live like this for the rest of our lives.” As Molly mentioned a cure, both Stolas and Belphegor exchanged glances—something Octavia noticed. It looked as if they were having a silent conversation. But about what?

 

 

“There is a cure,” Belphegor finally admitted, causing everyone to freeze.

 

 

“What?” Pentious asked.

 

 

“There’s a cure,” Belphegor repeated. “I was shown a prophecy… J.A.R.V.I.S., show them the prophecy,” she commanded.

 

 

“PROPHECY SHOWING IN A FEW SECONDS,” announced the male voice as the large computer in front of them powered on, displaying a script in what looked like a different language. Stolas immediately recognized it yet barely understood it.

 

 

“Is that Valyrian?” he asked.

 

 

Belphegor nodded. “Yes. I was only able to decipher two lines.”

 

 

“The first two?” Loona asked, prompting another nod from Belphegor.

 

 

“What do they say?” Stella asked, more interested in her nails than the screen or the conversation.

 

 

“Oh, I don’t know… You have eyes, don’t you?” Striker spat, glaring at her. Stella growled, but before they could start arguing, Moxxie spoke up.

 

 

“Green eyes full of secrets, green eyes full of pain,” he read aloud.

 

 

“You speak Valyrian?” Stella asked, almost impressed.

 

 

“Nah, it’s just translated,” Moxxie replied, shooting her a look that made Stella shriek and look away in embarrassment. Before Belphegor could say anything else, the lights suddenly went out.

 

 

“What’s going on?” Stolas asked Belphegor, turning to face her, his white pupils showing due to the powerful emotion of fear in his being.

 

 

“Uhhh… Lady Belphegor, what is that clock?” Pentious asked, motioning to a clock that was slowly counting down. “What happens when it reaches zero?”

 

 

“Time run's out,” Belphegor admitted as she turned to face the group for a moment before sitting back down in a chair. However, before she could do anything else, Loona barked out, “The fuck do you mean ‘time runs out’?!”

 

 

“We will all go…….boom,” Belphegor said, causing Stolas’s eyes to widen even further. “No…” the owl whispered as he slowly backed away. Belphegor was planning to make this whole place explode—with him and his people inside. No. He wasn’t going to let that happen. “Go!” he yelled at his group. “Grab everything that’s yours—then we leave!”

 

 

But just as they reached for the door, it slammed shut, sealing off any exit.

 

 

“No!” Stolas shouted angrily as he, Vassago, and Andrealphus tried everything they could to open the door—even using their magic—but nothing worked.

 

 

" FIFTY MINUTES LEFT BEFORE EXPLOSION,” J.A.R.V.I.S. suddenly announced, making the whole group tense up.

 

 

Belphegor, however, seemed resigned. She opened her camera one last time, ignoring the chaos as the group desperately tried to break down the door. “I did my best…” she spoke softly into the recording. “This will be my last night living like this… I can’t—” But she was interrupted when Angel yanked her rolling chair away from the desk, forcing her to face him.

 

 

“Open the goddamned door!” Angel demanded, his eyes glowing pink, more intense than usual.

 

 

“I can’t!” Belphegor yelled as she stood up. “I told you and your group: once those doors close, they stay closed! I can’t just open them like I used to! Besides, those doors are made of angelic steel—nothing can break through them. They were designed to withstand any angelic weapon.”

 

 

“Well, your head isn’t!” Striker shouted 'calmly,’ raising a crossbow and aiming it at her head. Those nearby tried to wrestle it away from him. Honestly, Belphegor was impressed—last she checked, there weren’t any crossbows in this place. So where in the ever loving fuck had he gotten that?

 

 

“Striker, calm down!” Stolas tried to stop him from doing something he might regret.

 

 

But he couldn’t focus on Striker for long, because Loona seemed to be in distress as well. “Loona?” he asked gently, heartbroken to see her ears pinned back in fear.

 

“FORTY MINUTES LEFT BEFORE EXPLOSION.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Loona covered her ears; she didn’t want to hear the countdown.

 

 

She wasn’t ready to go yet.

 

 

She still needed to see him.

 

 

To find out if he was still alive.

 

 

To see if she could apologize for leaving him.

 

 

No… She couldn’t die without seeing her father one last time.

 

 

She wanted to hug him…

 

 

To say so much…

 

 

Then, suddenly, she heard the doors open.

 

“THIRTY - THREE MINUTES LEFT BEFORE THE EXPLOSION.”

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Stolas turned from the panicking Loona to face Belphegor. “Please…” he begged, his voice laced with desperation. “Let us go. Let us show Heaven we can live—let us prove them wrong.”

 

 

“You’re only harming yourselves more if you go out there,” Belphegor replied coldly. “Besides, weren’t you the one who suggested this?” That made everyone freeze in shock.

 

 

“Que?” Vassago asked, looking at Stolas, who now seemed to shrink in disbelief. “Cuando paso?!”

 

 

“I—I—I was drunk! I had no idea what I was saying—I didn’t mean any of it, I—” Before Stolas could finish his stammering explanation, Belphegor cut in.

 

 

“When all of you went to your rooms, he came to me—drunk—and admitted he didn’t want any of you to suffer anymore. He couldn’t handle losing any of you out there.”

 

 

“Are you crazy?!” Striker yelled, glaring at Stolas, who winced. “You promised to help me look for Jason, and now you want us to explode?!”

 

 

“I was drunk!” Stolas exclaimed, turning to Belphegor. “My lady, please… I promise you, we’ll keep trying to find the cure—”

 

 

“Then what?!” Belphegor shouted, glaring at Stolas. “There will be no more sinners, no more hellborns, no winners, no angels, no sins—nothing! What would you do if you actually found the cure?!”

 

“TWENTY MINUTES BEFORE THE EXPLOSION.”

 

“Then we’ll find a way!” Stolas yelled. “We’ll find a way to keep the cure safe. We’ll find a way to keep going! But we can’t do any of that if you don’t let us go!”

 

 

Belphegor flinched. She didn’t understand—she truly did want to let them go… but if she did, she would die alone. She didn’t want to be alone in her final moments. Suddenly, deep within her mind, she heard a voice: “Let them go… they’re the chosen ones.” With a sigh, she pressed the button, causing the lab doors to open.

 

 

The group didn’t waste any time; they all bolted out. However, Stolas lingered for a moment, sending her a small, grateful smile. “Thank you,” he said softly.

 

 

Belphegor shook her head and looked at him with teary eyes. “Save the world,” she whispered, passing him her leather notebook filled with annotations and her prophecy. Stolas nodded as he rushed out.

 

 

Pentious was about to leave when he grabbed Derek’s wrist. “No,” Derek said, pulling away from the snake, causing Pentious to pause and look at him with wide eyes. “I can’t live out there like this,” Derek admitted, wiping away his tears. “Just go."

 

 

Pentious wanted to argue—he really did—but when he saw the tears in Derek’s eyes, he shrank back. He didn’t try to convince the young imp to come with them. Instead, he pulled him into one last, crushing hug—the last until, hopefully, they met again on a sunny day.

 

“NINETEEN MINUTES BEFORE THE EXPLOSION.“

 

Pentious quickly said goodbye before turning to Molly, who also seemed determined to stay. He watched as Angel marched over to her. Pentious tried to stop the spider, but Angel was just as set on staying, so Pentious had no choice but to slither out of the room.

 

 

“Angel, I don’t want you here,” Molly said as she saw Angel sit next to her in an empty chair. “Go,” she demanded angrily.

 

 

“No, I don’t feel like it, sis. If you’re staying, why should I leave? Besides, don’t you remember: everyone I love is cursed to suffer, so why not avoid more pain for the group and just end it all here with you?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “Besides, Derek is staying—why can’t I?”

 

 

“Because I want you to live. I want you to find someone who will value you, treasure you, and treat you with the same respect you give them,” Molly explained.

 

 

“Well bullshit you hypocrite! Because I want the same for you, but it looks like neither of us gets that choice, huh?” Angel replied with a snicker.

 

 

That answer alone left Molly with a difficult decision.

 

“FIFTEEN MINUTES BEFORE THE EXPLOSION.“

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Stolas and the others had made it to the laboratory’s exit door. Just as Belphegor said, it was impossible to get out. “Oh, Your Highness, why don’t you just teleport us away?!” Moxxie suddenly asked. Stolas stopped pounding on the window and smacked his forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?!” he muttered angrily, prompting Andrealphus to make a snarky comment, which Stolas wisely ignored.

 

 

Molly glanced between the slowly counting-down timer and Angel. Why was he just sitting there?! She couldn’t hold it in any longer. As soon as the clock hit the ten-second mark, she gritted her teeth, grabbed Angel’s hand, and bolted.

 

 

She and Derek locked eyes for just a second. She saw fear in his gaze—not for himself, but for her. She felt it too. How long before she would have to end it all?

 

“ FIVE MINUTES BEFORE THE EXPLOSION. “

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

Outside, Moxxie was just about to start the car as the countdown grew more urgent. Suddenly, Octavia called out, “Wait!” She pointed back toward the building—both Molly and Angel were running for the exit. “Father,” she pleaded, turning to Stolas with desperate eyes.

 

 

Stolas knew what she wanted. “We don’t have time for this—let’s go!” Andrealphus’s voice crackled through the radio connected to the RV, where he, Stella, Loona, and Pentious waited. But Stolas ignored him and began casting the teleportation spell.

 

“ THE EXPLOSION STARTS NOW. “

 

Suddenly, everything happened in slow motion. Both Molly and Angel disappeared just as the building was engulfed in pink flames that rapidly climbed up its walls.

 

 

The explosion shook the ground, a massive energy blast sending a thick cloud of dust sweeping across the area. Molly and Angel were teleported safely inside the RV just as an enormous, roaring tsunami of dust and harsh wind swept through.

 

 

The passengers inside both cars were violently thrown around as the vehicles shook. Alarms blared, windows cracked and shattered, leaving some of them with cuts. Their ears rang from the force of the explosion.

 

 

After the chaos subsided, Stolas was the first to rise from his curled-up position. He looked out at the former laboratory, now completely consumed by flames. Staring intensely at the inferno, he spoke in a voice so low it was barely audible, “Derek… Belphegor…” He paused to catch his breath. “I give you mercy.”

 

Notes:

First clues for the supernatural fans was in this chapter lol.

Season 1 is finally done!! The next chapter will start with season 2!

Spanish to English :
Que = What
Cuando paso? = When did it happen?

Chapter 14: I See What A Fiend Made

Summary:

Their on the road planning where to go and what to do next while Stolas is talking to Mayberry. Angel and Molly have an argument. Probably their last.

Notes:

Italics = Stolas trying to talk to Mayberry

Season two is here!

For season two the design that shows that scenes have changed it’ll be different then season one it’ll be this one:

⛧ · · ─────── ·☽◯☾· ─────── · · ⛧

Warnings Include : Wishing Death On Someone, Siblings Arguing

“Mayberry… The Sloth Ring was a dead end. There wasn’t any progress in finding a cure.”

 

 

“Now where the hell do we go?” Loona asked angrily.

 

 

“I don’t know,” Stolas replied firmly.

 

 

“Should I start the car to let the others who rushed to the RV know that we’re moving?” Moxxie asked Stolas, who nodded.

 

 

“Let me take count first,” Stolas said, beginning to tally the people in the car with him before radioing Pentious to ask how many were with him.

 

 

“We lost one yesterday. His name was Derek. The whole laboratory was consumed by fire, and he, along with Belphegor, decided to stay behind. But who am I to judge them? They didn’t want to live in a hell like this, and I had no choice but to respect that.”

 

 

The car carrying Stolas’s group suddenly started, shifted into reverse, and then drove back onto the highway—without any real destination.

 

 

Because they had no idea where to go.

 

 

Because Belphegor was right: no other hell beings or heavenly creatures could be seen… At least, none that were still alive.

 

 

“I gave them both mercy. I don’t know why I did it—maybe it was for me, maybe it was for them. I’m not sure, but I hope they’re resting peacefully wherever they are now. Mayberry, do you copy?” Silence. “This is Stolas signing off…”

 

⛧ · · ─────── ·☽◯☾· ─────── · · ⛧

 

Stolas sat in the car seat, accompanied by Octavia, Striker, Vassago, Moxxie, who was currently driving and Loona who sat next to him on the passenger seat. 

 

 

“Remember when we went to the Envy Ring to see its beautiful waterfalls?” Vassago asked, trying to break the tension in the car.

 

 

“Yes, I remember,” Stolas replied. “We took little Octavia with us.”

 

 

“But I don’t remember it,” Octavia chimed in. “So it definitely didn’t happen.”

 

 

“Oh, it did happen, young one,” Vassago said, ruffling her feathers. “You were just a baby back then!”

 

 

“Not to mention, we didn’t even reach the waterfalls because you got sick,” Stolas pointed out. “You had a stomach bug. I was the one who dragged everyone back home, of course. I was so worried you wouldn’t make it, but after a few reassurances from the doctors—who were probably tired of seeing me at the hospital every day—I finally accepted that you were alright.”

 

 

Octavia chuckled at her father’s overly protective instincts, but then an idea struck her.

 

 

“Can we go there now?” she asked, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm and hope. “And can we bring the others with us? Pretty please?” She looked at her father, trying her best puppy-dog eyes.

 

 

Stolas and Vassago exchanged uncertain glances. Sure, they could go there now and start over… but would it really be safe? Would it be filled with the undead?

 

 

“Sure, why not?” Stolas suddenly agreed, prompting Octavia to exclaim a satisfied, “Yes!”

 

 

“We can bring everyone in our group,” Stolas said, making eye contact with Moxxie through the rearview mirror. He then glanced at the sleeping form of Striker, before turning back to Octavia.

 

 

“So we’re all staying together?” she asked.

 

 

Stolas nodded. “Yep. Together forever.”

 

⛧ · · ─────── ·☽◯☾· ─────── · · ⛧

 

Back inside the RV, Molly and Angel were sitting together on the couch.

 

“You had no right to pull me away from what I wanted,” Molly murmured, glaring at Angel.

 

 

“Yes, I did have the right!” Angel retorted, his eyes glowing pink. “I didn’t want you to die!”

 

 

“Well, I’m going to die anyway!” Molly yelled, then quickly covered her mouth as Angel’s angry pink eyes faded back to their natural color, now filled with confusion.

 

 

“W-what do you mean?” Angel asked softly.

 

 

Molly sighed as she removed the scarf covering her infected bite mark, causing Angel to gasp. “See? I don’t have much time left. I don’t want to turn into one of those monsters, and the only way out was that way.”

 

 

“No…” Angel whispered, his eyes wide with fear. “No, no, no, no!” he repeated desperately, shaking his head as if trying to wake from a nightmare. “Val can’t take you away from me! W-we can find a cure!”

 

 

“I don’t have that much time!” Molly shouted, glaring at him. “I’m weak—I can’t go on like this! This is why I didn’t want you to know! This is why I don’t want the others to know! Only a few people in the group are aware!” She suddenly paused, realizing what she had just revealed.

 

 

“Wait…” Angel said, his voice slowing as he connected the dots. “Others knew about this?”

 

 

Molly stayed silent, staring intently at the table as if it were suddenly fascinating.

 

 

“Molly…” Angel repeated, his tone soft but warning, as he stood up and placed his palms firmly on the table. “Answer my question.”

 

 

“Derek and Pentious knew before you, alright!” Molly yelled back, standing up as well. The twins now faced each other, glaring daggers. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you at all!” she continued. “Because you’d act like a whiny little bitch!”

 

 

Angel let out an offended, pained gasp.

 

 

“Fine, have it your way!” he shouted. “Die and turn into one of those undead bastards for all I care!”

 

 

Molly felt her anger drain away at his words. “Y-you don’t mean that…”

 

 

“Hell yeah, I do!” Angel raged, pushing himself away from the table. “I hope you turn, I hope you’re terrified while it happens, and I hope to God you die alone and scared.” He spat the words with venom, refusing to meet Molly’s eyes—she had no right to feel hurt.

 

 

He should be the one who felt hurt.

 

 

He should be the one who felt betrayed.

 

 

He should have been the first person she told!

 

 

He was her brother, for crying out loud!

 

 

“Fine,” Molly snapped back. “Have your fucking wish.” She turned and began walking toward the small bed, when suddenly the RV started to slow down and come to a stop.

 

⛧ · · ─────── ·☽◯☾· ─────── · · ⛧

 

Angel quickly made his way to Pentious, who was angrily pounding the steering wheel.

 

 

“Problem, Pen?” Angel asked the irritated snake overlord, who flicked his forked tongue in annoyance and glared at the dashboard.

 

 

“The damn radiator hose broke,” Pentious growled.

 

 

“And can’t you fix it?” Stella asked suddenly, not looking up as she turned the page of her old newspaper. “Aren’t you supposed to be good at that stuff?”

 

 

Pentious felt his eye twitch in irritation. He was about to respond when they heard a car honk behind them. He immediately recognized who it was.

 

 

“Go let the others know the radiator hose is broken,” he told Angel. As soon as the spider gave him a devious smirk, Pentious instantly regretted how he’d phrased that command.

 

 

“The radiator has hoes?” Angel asked, bursting into laughter at Pentious’s flabbergasted ‘I can’t believe what I just heard' expression. However, his laughter quickly turned into a pained “Ow!” as Pentious quite literally threw him out of the RV.

 

 

Rolling his eyes, Angel hurried behind the RV and stood in front of the approaching car, waving all six of his arms. He must have looked ridiculous, but it worked—Moxxie brought the car to a stop. The passenger window rolled down slowly, revealing Loona.

 

 

“What the hell is wrong with the RV?” she asked.

 

 

“The hose broke, and Pentious has his panties in a twist because now he has to fix it… again,” Angel replied with a sigh.

 

 

“Great, so we’re stuck here?” Moxxie asked as he got out of the car, the others inside quickly following suit.

 

 

“Might as well look around the abandoned highway. It’s not like we’re going anywhere with all these cars blocking the way,” Striker added as he exited the car, stretching and letting out a yawn.

 

 

“He’s right,” Stolas agreed, surveying the car graveyard. “We can split up and search for food, water, clothes, ammo, and weapons.” The group, along with those who had gotten out of the RV, nodded in agreement. But before they could disperse, Stolas spoke up once more.

 

 

“And stay within my line of sight at all times,” he instructed firmly.

 

Notes:

Damn family drama just don't seem to end huh?

And remember Stolas's command? To stay in his line of sight? Yeah someone ain't ganna follow it next chapter.

Notes:

If your still interested I will upload whenever I can!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Inspired By The Walking Dead