Chapter 7: Emotions run high

This Chapter is a little bit shorter and there is a reason why! That's because the next chapter will be one of the longer ones thats around 10,000 or more words!

And to make it so that I know you readers actually want more chapters, please a review!

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Chapter 7

Alastor briskly walked down the hall of the hotel, the air around him dangerous. His usual smile was far sharper than ever before, giving off a feeling of impending doom to anyone who dared to cross his path. His crimson eyes seemed to pierce through the dimly lit corridor, as his emotions ran rampant.

His shoes clicked loudly on the polished wooden floorboards, each step echoing through the tense atmosphere. The sound was sharp and precise, like a gavel striking a judge's bench. Each step seemed to add fuel to the simmering rage that burned within him.

As he continued down the hall of the hotel, deep in his thoug-

"THAT BITCH FUCKING SURVIVED!?!?"

A sudden loud and enraged scream ripped through the silence, making the overlord stop in his place. Pushing his raging emotions aside, Alastor turned to where the scream came from, his feet taking him to where the voice came from. He peered inside the room and was met by the visage of Mayberry growling with her sharp teeth bared at a TV.

"HOW THE FUCK IS SHE ALIVE!?! I SHOT THAT BITCH IN THE FUCKING FACE!!!"

Mayberry's lips curled into a snarl as she glared at the woman on the screen, her entire body trembling with a hateful rage. Every muscle was tense, ready to lunge and attack at any moment. The image of the bitch's face was burned into her memory - the smug smirk, the cruel eyes, and the look of fear as she pointed a gun at her face.

The demon could still feel the recoil of the gun in her hand, the jolt that ran through her arm as she pulled the trigger. The deafening sound and acrid smell of gunpowder filled her senses once again. And then there was blood - red and warm - splattering against the wall behind the woman's lifeless body.

She could still see it even now, days later. But what haunted her most were not these vivid details, but rather the horrified expressions of her students who had witnessed what she had done. Their wide eyes and trembling lips, their terrified screams echoing in her mind. She couldn't shake the guilt and shame that consumed her for taking another life in front of them. It was a moment that would forever be seared in her conscience.

The demon thought the bitch was dead but there she was on the screen, alive and well. Sprouting out bullshit about being a fucking hero!

 "Is there something wrong, my dear?" The radio voice of Alastor chimed in, causing Mayberry to jolt at his unexpected presence.

Mayberry spun around to face the source of the voice, her eyes wide with startled fury, then quickly narrowing into slits of cold malice. The screen flickered in the background, casting eerie shadows across the room as she tried to regain her composure.

Alastor's voice, calm and smooth, was like honey laced with arsenic. "You seem...perturbed," he crooned, a faint static crackling beneath his words.

She forced a laugh through her gritted teeth, her fists clenched at her sides. "Perturbed? Oh no," Mayberry replied with a venomous sweetness that belied her true feelings. "I am beyond Fucking perturbed! That woman should be six feet under and burning in hell, and yet there she is, still in the living world and acting like a goddamn saint!"

The radio demon hummed, turning his gaze away from the pink demon and to the woman on the picture screen. His eyes examined the woman's bandaged face, a sly grin curling up the corners of his mouth.

 "Well, well," he said, tapping his fingers on the box, each tap crackling with a pulse of static. "It does seem like a most troublesome predicament. Someone surviving your wrath is not just improbable; it's downright insulting." 

Mayberry's breathing was heavy, her mind racing with dark thoughts and even darker plans. She'd make sure this time the woman didn't come back. She'd make sure to finish the job, no matter what it fucked took!

Alastor's laughter filled the room, rich and resonant against the whirring of old electronics.  "And what, pray tell, is your plan for this miraculous survivor?" he asked, already knowing that she was a cauldron of chaos ready to boil over. "Unless you have a way back to the land of the living, you're stuck here to suffer and watch as this woman lives her life spreading lies about you." 

The demoness glared at him, unable to put up with him right as she had a bigger bitch to fry.

"Don't you have a way back? You're a powerful demon, right? Surely you have a way back so I can fucking kill that slut!"

 "Unfortunately, my dear, I do not! Sinners like us are not allowed back, a pity really." 

Mayberry's jaw clenched so hard she felt her teeth might crack. "Then I'll find a way," she spat, her mind whirling with the echoes of Alastor's laughter, which seemed to mock her very essence. She paced back and forth like a caged beast, each movement bristling with lethal intent.

Alastor watched, his eyes aglow with the entertainment unfolding before him.  "A way back, you say?" His voice slipped out like silk, and he sauntered closer, the light from the TV casting dancing shadows across his face. "Now that would be a show worth listening to," he mused.

"And one I will gladly perform," Mayberry declared, seething with unbridled rage. Her hands clenched into her fists so tightly that her nails dug painfully into her palms.

Curious to see what this desperate creature would do next, Alastor leaned against a wall, his arms crossed over the crimson vest he wore. His grin was wide and filled with amusement as he watched the pink fury before him.

 "I cannot wait to see," he taunted, noting the discordant notes playing out from the picture box as Mayberry grew more agitated.

The ticking of the wall clock filled the room, its sound monotonously adding to the tense atmosphere. Mayberry stopped pacing and glared at the radio demon. "I don't need your damn commentary, Alastor," she growled, her words like stinging venom.

The radio demon held up his hands as a sign of mock surrender, chuckling all the while as he did so.

Mayberry scoffed at his action, turning her back on him to glare once again at the flickering screen. She was filled with uncompromising hatred. The woman on the screen chuckled lightly as she narrated her heroic tale, a tale consisting of lies and deceit, each word piercing through Mayberry's rage like a knife.

"Unforgivable," she muttered darkly under her breath. Her mind raced with plans of revenge and retribution. She would no longer allow this woman to taint her existence with false accusations and deceitful narratives.

Alastor watched as Mayberry seethed silently in front of the TV, her hands clenched into tight fists. Each shallow breath she took amplified the tension in the room, making it more palpable than ever. His smile widened as he greatly enjoyed the way her beautiful face twisted into an ugly expression, one that was filled with murderous intent.

 "Such hatred, such fury. It's almost intoxicating, " Alastor commented, his voice dropping to an appreciative purr. The red glow in his eyes seemed to burn brighter, reflecting the muted flicker of the television screen.

Mayberry's body remained as tense as a coiled spring, her jaw tight and her eyes wide with unadulterated hatred. "I'll drag her down here myself if I have to," she said through clenched teeth, the promise of retribution hanging heavy in the air.

She turned away from the screen to glow at Alastor. "And you're going to help me."

Alastor's grin widened, reaching his crimson eyes encased in black sockets.  "That is a rather audacious request, my dear," he replied, his voice dripping with feigned insult. But the smug curve of his lips gave away his delight at the challenge laid out before him.

 "I didn't take you as the vengeful type," he teased, playfully twirling his staff. His playful demeanor was a stark contrast to Mayberry's icy countenance and burning gaze. "Do you truly want to kill this woman that badly?" 

Mayberry's response was simple. A word laced so heavily with venom that it hissed through the air like a striking snake. "Watch me."

She turned back to the screen with a newfound determination, her mind whirling with the dark glorious satisfaction of vengeance. Her pink tail swished behind her restlessly as she stared at the woman on the screen who was now her singular obsession.

Alastor merely chuckled, amused by the unfolding drama. Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned back, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. "As you wish, my dear," he replied in a tone that contained multiple layers of delight and menace.

The blood-red shade of the room deepened, and the constant crackle of the old television suddenly seemed more sinister, almost foreboding. But Mayberry was beyond caring about her surroundings; she was consumed by a singular goal.

Leaning closer to the screen, she scrutinized her nemesis, taking in every detail: the way her blonde hair framed her bandaged face, the delicate curve of her fake smile, and that innocent look in her eyes that was nothing but a sham. She hissed through her clenched teeth, ripping herself away from the screen.

Alastor watched from his corner, his voice slipping into the radio frequency as he hummed a haunting melody, his red eyes never leaving the pink demon's figure. "So much passion! It's quite… entertaining," he mused to himself.

Mayberry didn't reply to his mocking murmur; instead, she kept etching the ways she would make the woman suffer in her mind. Her brows were furrowed in concentration as she muttered promises of pain and suffering for the vile creature that dared to ruin her life.

Now being in a much better than when he was before, Alastor smiled as he quietly left the room and left her to continue glaring at the screen.

In her agitation, Mayberry hardly noticed Alastor's departure. Her focus was laser-sharp, honed onto the smirking woman on the screen, her insides boiling with a rage so potent she could hardly contain it.

"I will rip you apart," she seethed through gritted teeth, her yellow eyes glowing with a sinister light. Her fingers curled into claws, nails scraping against the rough fabric of the couch as she conjured up images of retribution in her mind.

The flickering image on the screen lingered on the bandaged woman, highlighting every crease and wrinkle on her face, before abruptly cutting to a loud and flashy advertisement. The contrast between the stillness of the woman and the chaotic commercial caused a surge of frustration to rise within Pink Demon.

 "Hi there! I'm Blitz, and the O is silent." An imp walked onto the screen with an air of smug overconfidence in himself. "And I am the founder of I.M.P!" 

Mayberry turned away from the TV, rubbing her temple trying to shake away the migraine that was forming. As she was about to turn off the TV, what the imp said next made her pause.

 "Thanks to our company's special access to the living world, we can help take care of unfinished business by taking out anyone who screwed you over when you were alive!" 

Mayberry listened closely, paying repent attention to the imp on the ad.

"And that means all those naughty naysayers and soulless sociopaths who wronged you in the past, we can whisk them away," the imp continued with a devilish grin. His voice echoed through the room, the screen lighting up with fireworks and confetti. As the infomercial ended, a location was displayed in bold with words flashing around it.

"...Imp city."

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Alastor was sitting down at the bar with a whisky in hand, swirling the liquid around in the glass. He idly paid attention to the game of blackjack between Husker and the spider, amused at the agonized groans coming from the latter. The spider was losing horribly against Husker, which was to be expected.

"How the fuck are you winning every single fucking time!? Are you fucking cheating or something?!" Angel shouted, slamming all four of his hands down onto the bar with a loud bang.

The former overlord merely smirked as he reshuffled the cards back into a deck. The smugness was coming off of him in waves, as he greatly enjoyed destroying Angel in an area he shined in.

Taking one last sip of the burning alcohol, Alastor turned away from the two and walked away from the bar. The desire to see a certain moth again was building within him. Even if she was disgusted by his mere presence, he couldn't hold back the impulse to see her.

"Husker, would you mind telling me where Vaggie is?" The red-haired sinner asked, looking to the cat demon for where Vaggie was. Husk, knowing better than anyone that he wasn't merely being asked but ordered, turned to look at Alastor.

"She's with Charlie trying to stop her from using your money." He grumbled, tossing the cards down to start another game. Angel looked at the cards and smirked, his mood doing a complete one-eighty. "Still hates you."

Alastor flinched, his amused expression slipping a bit at the blunt statement. He recovered quickly, however, a small chuckle escaping him. "Ahh yes, my dear Husker, she does indeed," he said nonchalantly, a flicker of something unreadable in his crimson eyes as he walked past the two sinners. Husker keeping an eye on him all the while.

Angel, not giving two fucks about anything but beating the smug bastard in front of him, snapped his fingers to grab Husk's attention. "Focus pussy cat~ I want to see your expression when I finally beat your ass at this stupid game!

As he exited the bar, Alastor's coattails billowing behind him in an unseen breeze, the playful radio demon was replaced by a solemn figure. A long sigh slipped past his invisible stitched lips and for a moment, he allowed himself to feel the weight of Vaggie's disgust for him.

"Charlie, you have to think before you act in this situation! Alastor doesn't just give out money willy-nilly without getting something in return, who knows what he'll ask for!"

"Oh, come one Vaggie! He promised that he was here to help and here he is helping us!"

But he was quick to replace his contemplative expression with his usual cheery demeanor when he heard the voices of who he was looking for. He spotted Vaggie trying to stop Charlie from using the money that he gave to them. His arrival didn't go unnoticed, Charlie and Vaggie both paused their argument to look at him.

"Alastor! Perfect timing," Charlie exclaimed, greeting him with positive enthusiasm that was rarely seen in Hell. Alastor tipped his head in acknowledgment, a charming grin playing on his lips.

Vaggie, however, was far less welcoming. She only glared at him silently, her ice-cold stare full of loathing and distrust. Alastor paid it no mind; after all, the mere sight of her brought him joy.

 "Indeed," he responded lightheartedly, moving closer to the pair. "I heard there was a dispute because of me." 

"That's one way to put it," Vaggie retorted sharply, arms crossed defensively against her chest. "I'd categorize it less as a dispute and more as Charlie being overly trusting of a manipulative snake."

"Now, now, Vaggie," Alastor chided, his grin never faltering as he leaned against the nearby wall.  "Surely there is no need for name-calling, especially when I have done nothing but offer my assistance." 

"Yes, there is, because your assistance always comes with a price," Vaggie shot back, her icy stare never wavering.

 "And what exactly would you have me do instead, dear?" Alastor asked with an exaggerated show of distraught.  "Stand idly by and watch you toil away in futility? That doesn't sound very entertaining at all." 

Charlie sighed, caught between the two opposing forces of unstoppable force meets an immovable object. She had wanted to believe Alastor's intentions were good like she did for all her people, but Vaggie's arguments brought out good points of not trusting someone like him. Not to mention the unknown history between them that she wanted desperately to know.

"Alastor," she interjected, softly. "Can you guarantee that your help doesn't come with... hidden conditions?" Her voice echoed in the silent room, her innocence evident in her hopeful eyes.

Alastor chuckled lightly, still looking at the scowling face of the beautiful woman glaring at him, before turning to Charlie. "My dear Charlie," he said, his voice laced with amusement.  "Nothing in Hell is free. We all know that. But I assure you, my intentions are not ill-intentioned." 

His crimson eyes shifted to Vaggie's figure, whose unwavering gaze met his with undeniable challenge. "However," he continued, standing up straight and tapping his staff against the floor. "If it makes my dear Vaggie more comfortable, I can promise not to do anything that would jeopardize your establishment or cause harm to any of you." 

Charlie turned to Vaggie, hoping the moth demon would find some reassurance in Alastor's words. But Vaggie was far from convinced.

"See, Vaggie? He promises!" The princess of hell exclaimed, her hands clasping together in hopeful appeal. But Vaggie's gaze remained as steely as ever.

"I don't trust promises from demons, especially not from him." Vaggie pointed a slender finger at Alastor, slowly reaching her breaking point. "And Alastor, you might fool Charlie and the others, but I know who you are, I know what's behind your smile."

A flicker of emotion passed through Alastor's usually confident countenance; a fleeting shadow that was gone as quick as it came. It was almost sorrowful if one could say such an emotion could belong to a demon.

"…Vaggie," Alastor began, his voice low and almost gentle, losing his radio voice. "We all wear masks down here." He walked closer to her, trying to convince her. "And while mine may seem more cryptic than others, I assure you my intentio-."

A harsh slap cut his words short.

"DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!!!"

The sting from Vaggie's palm remained on his cheek, his entire existence shaken from her action. His eyes widened in surprise, before narrowing, his grin wavering as she withdrew her hand. He brought a finger to his cheek, touching the reddening mark lightly.

"Vaggie!" Charlie exclaimed, her arms flailing about in shock. She rushed over to Alastor's side, her brows furrowed in worry. "I... I'm so sorry, Alastor."

"Don't." Alastor's voice was firm but calm, raising a hand to deter Charlie. "She has every right." He glanced at Vaggie whose eyes were ablaze with defiance.

There was a pause fraught with tension. Finally, Alastor turned back to Charlie. His smile was smaller than usual but it was still there, his eyes glowing eerily in the dim light.

"It seems I've overstayed my welcome," he said, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "I'll take my leave."

With those final words, he tipped his head to them both before turning around smoothly and heading for the exit. Each of his steps echoed ominously in their ears until the sound vanished completely when the door leading outside of the hotel closed behind him.

Charlie stared at the closed door for what felt like an eternity before turning back to Vaggie, whose face was still set in a scowl, but her eyes betrayed a hint of uncertainty. Charlie reached out and gently touched Vaggie's arm.

"Vaggie…" Her voice wavered, unsure of what to say.

Vaggie turned to look at Charlie, her icy stare softening at the sight of her partner's confused expression. Sighing heavily, she pulled away from Charlie's touch and walked away.

"Don't start Charlie," she warned preemptively, her hands rubbing against her face. "I know what I did."

Charlie stood frozen in place, her mind swimming with unanswered questions. She watched Vaggie's retreating form, her back straight and unyielding. She wanted to follow, to hold her close and tell her it would be okay, that they could figure things out together. But she couldn't, she was an outsider with little to no information of what happened between them, she wouldn't know what to say or do.

Bang!

The echo of the slamming door bounced around in the empty hallway, causing Charlie to shiver. The hotel seemed colder suddenly, more desolate. She cast a glance at the spot Alastor had occupied moments before, his presence still lingering in the air like an eerie specter.

With every second that passed, the reality of what had happened started to sink in, and her heart seemed to grow heavier. Charlie bit her lip and looked down at her hands. She had always believed in giving others a chance, and believed in their potential goodness. But Vaggie's refusal to trust Alastor coupled with his cryptic demeanor made her question her own judgement.

Following Vaggie after a moment of thinking, Charlie opened the door to their room. Inside was a quiet solemn atmosphere, she spotted Vaggie sitting on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands. The sight of her strong and fierce partner in such a state made Charlie's heart clench. She moved towards her, placing a careful hand on Vaggie's shoulder.

Vaggie's shoulders jumped under Charlie's touch before relaxing. They sat in silence for a moment, the tension from earlier seemingly seeping out through their pores. Finally, Vaggie looked up at Charlie, her usually piercing eyes filled with hurt and regret.

"Charlie…" she started but her voice faltered. She shook her head and cast her gaze downward.

"Vaggie," Charlie pleaded quietly, grabbing her hand into hers. "Please talk to me."

Vaggie sighed heavily and met Charlie's eyes. "I'm sorry for what happened earlier… with Alastor."

"Don't apologize," Charlie said quickly, holding onto Vaggie's hand tighter. "But can you tell me why? What is the history between the two of you that would make you attack him like that!"

"I-I don't want to talk about thi-"

"Vaggie!" She pleaded, her voice weak and pitiful. "We can't keep going on like this with you at Alastor's throat every time he's in the same room as you! Especially when I can't do anything about it because I don't know what happened between the two of you!"

Vaggie flinched at the desperation in Charlie's voice, her heartstrings torn into pieces by her girlfriend's distress. The silence stretched out between them, heavy and palpable. Finally, she heaved a sigh, her grip tightening around Charlie's hand.

"…Alright, Charlie," she conceded, a touch of defeat creeping into her voice. "I'll tell you."

Her gaze became unfocused as she delved into the recesses of her memory, pulling forth images and events she would rather forget. Charlie watched as her lover's face contorted in pain at the recollection. Vaggie paused for a moment, gathering herself before she continued.

"I don't know where to start." Vaggie sighed, a deep frown on her face.

"How about the beginning? How did you first meet Alastor?" Charlie smiled, trying her best to give her comfort through her smile.

Vaggie couldn't help but feel her own lips curl up into a smile as she gazed at Charlie's radiant, pure smile. Nodding her head, Vaggie agreed with her to start at the very beginning.

"It was not long after I arrived here, in Hell," Vaggie began, her voice trembling slightly as she thought back to the past. She could feel the phantom pains in her back as she thought of that day, the day she fell from heaven and the day she lost her wings.

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