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Price of Freedom	By : Venka Category: +G through L > Hazbin Hotel Views: 85 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim any rights to Hazbin Hotel or its characters, settings, and storyline. All rights to the original series and its intellectual property belong to VivziePop and its respective owners.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
"Testing contact," Ari said, his voice steady as he adjusted the lapel pin on his burgundy red cardigan. The pin, deceptively ordinary in appearance, housed a sophisticated camera and microphone setup. This discreet device was wirelessly linked to a hellphone, which functioned as a remote control and monitoring station.
He glanced around the room, ensuring everything was in place for the upcoming operation. The hellphone's screen displayed a clear feed from the lapel pin's camera, confirming the connection was stable. The microphone picked up the faint hum of ambient noise, a testament to its sensitivity. Ari's fingers deftly adjusted the pin one last time, making sure it was secure. This mission required precision and subtlety, and every detail had to be perfect. The small device was a marvel of modern espionage technology, designed to blend seamlessly into any outfit while providing real-time audio and visual data to the remote team.
"Can you hear me clearly?" Ari asked, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the tiny lens hidden in the pin. A voice crackled back through the earpiece connected to the hellphone, confirming that the audio was coming through loud and clear.
"I hear you loud and clear, my son," a woman's voice said, her tone warm yet authoritative. Her New York accent was unmistakable, each word sharp and precise, yet there was an underlying melody to her speech, a distinct cadence that hinted at her Sicilian roots.
Ari smiled slightly at the sound of her voice. It was the voice of his mother, Corrina DeNatale Ragno, or Vina as she was now known in Hell, a woman whose presence commanded respect both in their neighborhood and within their family. Born in Sicily, she had moved to New York as a young child, carrying with her the rich traditions and fierce pride of her family's heritage. Over the years, she had seamlessly blended these with the fast-paced, gritty life of New York City.
Vina had always been a formidable figure, her Sicilian roots grounding her with an unshakable sense of identity. She had a way of commanding attention and respect without uttering a single word, her mere presence enough to assert her authority. She embraced the bustling energy of New York, finding a way to marry it with the old-world charm and traditions of Sicily. She was known for her hospitality, her home always filled with the rich aromas of Sicilian cooking, a symbol of the life she had built and the heritage she cherished. For Ari and Riven, their mother was a source of constant inspiration. Her dual identity, as both a Sicilian and a New Yorker, had taught them the importance of adaptability and resilience.
"So uh," Riven said, his voice tentative. He also wore a similar pin to his older brother, but unlike Ari, he hadn't added anything aside from the pin to his earlier attire. He still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about this mission. "We were hearing how the Princess regards this place and the people who live here as her family. That ain't like any of the stuff we were told when we agreed to this job. You sure they are a threat to our operations?"
Ari glanced at his younger brother, noting the unease in his eyes. Riven had always been more cautious, more prone to questioning the details of their assignments. It was a trait that often balanced Ari's own tendency to dive headfirst into the family business.
"The one known as Angel Dust is," Vina responded, her tone sharp and unwavering. "He knows too much about our family's operations and will expose us to his new friends to bring our operations to ruin."
"That's what I don't get though," Riven asked, furrowing his brow. "I mean, yeah, this guy knows how we run the family. Yet, he's been here in Hell for around seventy or so years. Why is now the convenient time for him to destroy the family?"
"That's for you to find out," Vina replied. "He was a problem when he was alive, and I won't allow him to be a problem in the afterlife."
Ari nodded in agreement with his brother, his mind racing with the implications. "I think that Radio Demon guy is more someone to be worried about. He's got a lot of influence and power here. If this Angel Dust is teaming up with him, it could spell serious trouble for our family. Though I haven't seen anything to suggest they have any sort of affiliation aside from being part of this hotel."
Vina's voice crackled through the earpiece, filled with steely resolve. "Then you need to be cautious of both. Angel Dust may have the knowledge, but the Radio Demon has the means to act on it. You must uncover their plans and stop them before they can do any damage."
Riven still looked uncertain but nodded. "Alright, we'll keep an eye on both of them. It just seems like a lot of effort for someone who's been out of the picture for so long. There has to be a reason he's making a move now."
Ari squeezed his brother's shoulder reassuringly. "We'll figure it out, Fratellino. We always do. Let's gather as much information as we can and stay one step ahead. The family's counting on us."
Vina's voice softened slightly, a rare moment of tenderness cutting through her usual stern demeanor. "I know you boys will make me proud. Just remember, trust no one but each other. These stakes are higher than you know, and this family can't afford any mistakes."
With those words ringing in their ears, Ari and Riven set out to uncover the truth. The weight of their family's legacy hung heavy on their shoulders, but they were determined to protect it at all costs. Angel Dust, the Radio Demon, and any other threats would have to contend with the Ragno brothers, a force to be reckoned with in both life and the afterlife.
The two spiders were leaving Ari's room when none other than Alastor materialized in front of them. His Cheshire cat-like smile appeared sinister as he regarded the brothers, his red eyes gleaming with an unsettling mix of amusement and suspicion.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Alastor greeted casually, his voice dripping with a saccharine sweetness that did nothing to hide the underlying menace. "Lovely weather we're having. I hope you don't have anything ill-intentioned towards anyone here." The two spiders were taken aback by how quickly he seemed to catch on to their reasons for being at the hotel. They quickly regained their composure, knowing this was being picked up by the equipment they were wearing.
"My brother and I are only here because we want to improve our lives here in Hell," Ari responded smoothly, sticking to the narrative they had prepared.
"Really, now," Alastor said, his voice crackling with static, making it clear he didn't believe them for a second. "Where exactly did you hear we were improving the lives of people in Hell? I'm curious to know."
"Someone told us about it," Riven responded, hoping his voice didn't betray his fear. The Radio Demon, as an Overlord, was said to be intimidating, and seeing him in person only confirmed those statements.
"Oh really," Alastor responded, the static in his voice fading but leaving an unsettling maliciousness behind his words. "I find it rather interesting that you two happened to show up, particularly since we only released a commercial for the new and improved hotel a few days ago. A group of spider demons such as yourselves arrived at this very hotel that same day with the intent of apprehending a friend of mine for something that no longer matters. Wouldn't you say it is rather convenient that you happen to arrive so soon after that rabble has left?"
"How'd ya know we don't want to escape 'the life'?" Riven asked. Ari shot his brother a side glance, a warning that he was treading on dangerous ground.
"Oh, I never said you were part of this…'The Life,' as you call it," Alastor said with a chuckle. "And I don't have any particular fondness for anyone here, so your reasons for being here don't concern me. However, I do have stakes in this hotel and the people who reside here. I'm not just going to allow anyone to come to harm. I should also warn you that there are protections set in place that do cause anyone with ill intent to be rejected by this hotel. Do keep that in mind as you enjoy dinner tonight."
With that, the Radio Demon turned on his heel and sauntered away towards the elevator, his steps light and carefree, as though he hadn't just issued a thinly veiled threat. The brothers watched him go, a palpable sense of unease settling over them.
Once Alastor was out of sight, Ari turned to Riven, his expression serious. "We need to be more careful. He's already suspicious, and we can't afford to slip up."
Riven nodded, his earlier bravado fading. "Yeah, I get that. But something about all this just feels... off. There has to be more to this."
Ari sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. But we have our orders. We need to figure out what Angel Dust is planning and stop him before he can do any damage. And now we have to keep an eye on Alastor too. This just got a lot more complicated."
Riven grimaced but didn't argue. They both knew the stakes. Their family's legacy and their own survival depended on their success. As they made their way to the dining hall, the weight of their mission pressed heavily on their shoulders. They couldn't afford to fail. Not now, not ever.
As they entered the dining hall, they were greeted by the opulent sight of the evening meal prepared for them. A single long table was dressed with a white linen tablecloth, and a sparkling chandelier resembling a circus tent glistened overhead. The table settings were white porcelain with red and gold trim, accompanied by matching flatware. Each plate held a bowl of rich, creamy tomato noodle soup. Additionally, there was a large bowl filled with fresh salad glistening with zesty Italian dressing, and oven-warmed rosemary bread that added a comforting, homey aroma to the room.
Seated at the table were everyone the two brothers had encountered upon their arrival, along with some unfamiliar faces. Apparently, the residency of this hotel was small, so guests and staff alike ate together. The brothers exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging the peculiar familiarity. The strangest sight was none other than King Lucifer himself seated at the head of the table, like a proud father having an evening meal with his family. It seemed strange for someone of such a high station to sit down to a meal with his subjects as though they were his equals.
There were five empty places at the table. One open space next to Charlie and another open space next to a one-eyed girl with wild pinkish-blond hair. There was an open space next to the feline barman with a small card placed on the empty plate that said "Reserved in Honor of Sir Pentious." Before the two boys could back out of the room or find somewhere they could observe from a vantage point, feeling like outsiders in this familiarity, Charlie noticed them and enthusiastically ran over to personally escort them to their seats at the table.
"Dad, Vaggie, Cherri, Mimzy," Charlie cheerfully said as she grabbed hold of Ari's arm and pulled him towards the assembled group, "I'd like you to meet the newest guests at our hotel, Ari and Riven." The people at the table regarded them with mixed reactions. A female demon who sort of resembled a fat contented hen wearing a red and black blouse and black skirt eyed the two of them also as though trying to assess if she had seen them somewhere. Though not coming to any conclusions she lost interest.
Ari scanned the room, his eyes darting from one face to another, memorizing the features and expressions of the demons present. His mind was working overtime, trying to piece together any connections or potential threats. Riven also eyed the people gathered at the table, ready to act if anyone proved themselves hostile. Their experiences in life and Hell had taught them to be alert and perceptive, qualities that had served them well.
As they were led to their seats, the brothers couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation. They were surrounded by powerful and influential figures in Hell, each one potentially a threat or an ally. They needed to tread carefully and gather as much information as possible without revealing their true intentions.
Charlie's cheerful demeanor was disarming, but Ari and Riven knew better than to let their guard down. They exchanged a quick, meaningful glance, a silent agreement to stay vigilant. Charlie's enthusiasm and hospitality, while genuine, added a layer of complexity to their mission. They had to balance playing the role of grateful guests while staying focused on their objective.
"Ari," Charlie suggested. "Why don't you take the seat next to Mimzy, and Riven, why don't you take the empty seat next to Pentious's spot?"
"Sure," Riven responded agreeably as both spiders took seats at the table.
"So you guys are spider demons," Mimzy commented. "Don't meet many of you who are nice."
"Mimzy," Vaggie said warningly, though she felt there was some truth to it. "They are new guests; don't judge based on appearances."
"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Mimzy said. "You can never trust a spider demon, everyone I've met has been shifty and two-faced thieves, thugs, and mobsters. Just between you and me, there is something shady about that Porn Star, especially after he suckered me into working here the other day."
"Would you rather we left you to Arackniss and his guys?" Husk asked, raising an eyebrow with a half-smile that seemed to hint that Mimzy had no place to judge.
"Wait, Arackniss was here?" Ari asked, his curiosity piqued. He hadn't heard his father had been at the hotel just a few days prior. When they had been told about this job, they had only been informed Angel Dust had taken up residency some months prior. With recent events such as the hotel managing to repel an exorcist attack and Lucifer's inclusion into this whole endeavor sparking concerns in the family of what the former mafioso was planning.
"Well, yeah," Cherri stated, pointing a thumb at Mimzy. "Apparently, this dried-up old cunt here decided to pull a stupid move and took money from the mob. And then she's surprised when they actually want it all back. Hell, I may have been a fan of the anarchist's cookbook back when I was growing up in Australia, but even I know you don't mess with guys like that."
"Who you calling a dried-up old cunt, you one-eyed bitch?!" Mimzy snarled angrily.
"Maybe it's best we change the conversation," Charlie suggested, trying to calm the situation. "So Ari, you said you work in textiles."
"Yeah," Ari answered. "I run a company that produces silks used in various businesses around Pentagram City. Velvette herself has given five-star reviews about the fabrics I've produced."
"From the sound of things, things are going well for you," Vaggie said suspiciously. "Why do you want to improve your life here in Hell?"
"It's a matter of where I get the silk fibers," Ari explained. "Silk is the only form of fiber that is produced by living creatures such as some species of insects, usually when they are in a larval stage like silk moths, some species of butterflies, ants, bees, and hornets. Apparently, goats can produce silk proteins in their milk now, but that is only through genetic modification. But the best quality silks I get are from spiders. It's one thing to use actual web-building species of spiders, but in order for my business to be what it is, I have had to make… I guess you can say 'arrangements' with persons of a shady nature."
"I see," Charlie said thoughtfully. "And you, Riven, what have you been doing since you arrived in Hell?"
"What I want to know is when the main course is coming," Mimzy interrupted, her impatience evident. "All we got is some salad, bread, and this pasta soup. What's the main dish?"
"Well, uh, this is the main meal, Mimzy," Charlie explained appeasingly. "Due to the news saying it would be rather cold and rainy this evening, I thought this lasagna soup would be a good choice."
Mimzy huffed, clearly dissatisfied. "Lasagna soup? That's hardly a main course. Back in my day, dinner meant a proper feast, with courses that kept coming till you were full to bursting."
"That ain't sayin' much." Husk groused. "Considering you never got to live through the Great Depression. In those years, depending on where you were, you were lucky to even have food at all.."
"Mimzy," Charlie replied with a forcibly patient smile. "Everyone at this hotel contributes in some way to make us all feel more as a family. I thought a comforting and simple warm meal would be nice for everyone tonight."
Vaggie nodded in agreement. "I think this is a great choice, Charlie. Besides, it's not about the food; it's about the company."
Riven, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. "I actually think the lasagna soup is rather good. It kinda reminds me of my Mama's Sicilian-style lasagna. Never had it as soup before, it's different, but sometimes something different can be nice."
"So is, uh, Angel, going to join us?" Lucifer asked, noting the empty place beside Cherri. The empty spot next to Charlie was intentionally left open for Alastor even though the Radio Demon didn't really join the rest of the hotel for meals, it was still meant to be a gesture of inclusion. "When does he usually get back from his job?"
"It depends on what mood that dickhead Val is in," Charlie sighed in frustration. "He's been known to have Angie work double-shifts or even all night if it suits him."
"Speaking of Angel, he has been putting in a lot of hours at the studio recently." Vaggie pointed out. "And he's always tired or in a mood when he gets back. It's true this is his job, but if the studio is going to be a problem with what we are trying to do…"
"He had the past few days off," Charlie attempted to make light of the situation, though she was also concerned about the long hours Angel had been forced to work recently. "Maybe he's decided to stay there tonight because of the weather."
"I doubt it," Cherri said. "Angie used to actually live at the studio before he moved in here. If anything he'd be wanting to find somewhere that isn't the studio."
"What do you mean?" Charlie asked. Unease started to rise in her chest as she began to remember the song that she had heard Angel singing on Voxtube. The pain, self-loathing, and despair behind his words. She knew that there was something toxic about the studio, and Angel's boss had shown he also had a sleazy character. With everything that occurred at the studio when she had visited that one time, she had refrained from interfering with Angel's job after that. She had seen enough to cause concern, but with the looming threat of the Extermination in a few months and her determination to prove redemption could be possible, anything to do with the studio and Angel's job was a distraction that had to wait.
"You know when I said Angie has these states where the fuckhead is a total mess," Cherri pointed out. "Then you said you witnessed one of those times. Well, the crash and burn moments aren't always what you saw. There are just times where he has these really fucked up nightmares…the kind where you wake up screaming and then end up crying."
"And you never asked what is causing them?" Ari asked, taking an interest in the conversation. This could be some of the information they were looking for as to Angel's motives for joining the hotel.
"It's obvious that Valentino is an abusive bastard," Cherri said. "When Angie's really getting shit done to him, he gets all depressing and shit. So when I meet up with him, I help him lighten up by clubbing, or clobbering some shitheads who think they are worth respecting. Hook him up on something to take the edge off. As for asking the bitch to tell me what Val is doing he says that it's not something he wants to talk about."
"Charlie and I heard one of Angel's recent song numbers," Vaggie explained. "From what we heard of it, it sounds like he may be involved in a soul deal."
"That might be the case," Husk said, his voice sounding rather somber. "Typically with people who have sold or bargained their soul away to an Overlord. There isn't anything that would physically happen to them if it was revealed they are on a leash. Embarrassment and humiliation is one reason to refuse to talk about it. However, there are demons who could use that information to their advantage. Such as a more powerful demon could learn of and gain control of the contract to use it to their ends. Having your soul in the hands of another demon isn't what you would see as salvation as that Overlord or whoever is likely to be a monster too."
"I haven't had any real moments to know or understand Angel beyond him being a sinner at this hotel," Lucifer admitted. "Though from what I've seen, he seems smart enough to understand that giving your soul to an Overlord isn't something you should do foolishly."
"From the song Charlie and I heard," Vaggie explained. "He does admit that he should have known that he was making a mistake in giving Valentino his soul, and that he had only himself to blame for it. So it may not have been an impulsive decision, it may have been something he felt was the only option."
"When Arackniss showed up the other day," Charlie said. "There was a moment where Angel and Arackniss encountered one another and it appeared they knew each other; when I asked about that Arackniss just said, 'Unfortunately,' then he called Angel a 'reject who lacked the spine to serve the family." It didn't escape Husk's notice that Ari and Riven seemed to have more awareness of what that comment meant, which only added to his suspicions that they were connected to the Ragno family."
"Meaning what?" Mimzy said. "Are you actually saying that Spider is actually a son of Henroin?"
"I can't be sure," Husk remarked. "But if what Arackniss said is true, it is plausible. You were from New York before you met Alastor, so you would have better knowledge of that."
"I left because I didn't want to suck up to a crime family in order to run a decent business," Mimzy remarked. "Gals like me couldn't own property or do shit without a guy running things somewhere. Plus the mob families demanding extortion money each month isn't exactly a walk in the park. Though before I did leave for the Big Easy in 1913, I did hear some talk about Henroin's family was expectin' a new kid."
"There have been times I've heard Angie calling out for drugs in his sleep sometimes," Cherri said. "When he's come over to my old place during the times the fuckhead is trying to spend some time away from the studio. I hear him call out something like Molly in his sleep. Molly is a street name for ecstasy, kinda like how Angie's stage name is a street name for PCP."
"Stage name?" Lucifer asked.
"Yeah, you think someone would honestly be named Angel Dust for real," Cherri asked. "There are tons of actors and performers that change their names or take on stage names to become marketable and shit."
"Are you sure it's drugs," Husk asked. "Molly is also a common girl's name, so it could be a person?"
"Arackniss being a brother is something I suspected on my own." Charlie commented. "Could it be possible that Angel has a sister somewhere?"
"If he does," Vaggie responded. "She's obviously not here in Hell, at least not that we know of."
After a moment, Charlie broke the silence. "If Valentino is truly as abusive as we suspect, then we have to help get Angel out of this. This soul deal or whatever is keeping him involved with the studio could be what is preventing him from being redeemed."
"Don't bother," Mimzy said, her tone dismissive. "Valentino is a powerful overlord. Going up against him ain't worth the trouble it'd cause. If I were you, I'd cut my losses. Save yourselves a heap of trouble." Charlie's eyes flashed red with that suggestion, a slight growl emanating from her throat.
"If Angel's in danger, we can't just ignore it," Vaggie insisted, her voice firm. "It goes against the purpose of what this hotel is supposed to be."
Lucifer leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "This hotel of yours may be more complex than you initially thought, Charlie. If it's true he is under contract or something, I would need to understand the terms of the deal."
"You think you can break it, Dad?" Charlie asked, hope flickering in her eyes.
"I can't be sure," Lucifer said, his voice gentle but firm. "This is your hotel and these are your friends, sweetie. I want to leave this to you as much as possible, but I will help where I can."
"Cherri, you're close to Angel," Vaggie suggested. "Do you think you can find out more about his situation? Maybe get him to open up about the specifics of the deal?"
"I don't think it's a good idea to push him into talking," Husk warned, while Vaggie was more level headed then Charlie when it came to the idea of redemption. The revelation that she was a former exorcist also indicated that she didn't have a full understanding of how to approach delicate situations regarding sinners. "Pushing someone to open up about things before they are ready isn't the best approach to something like this. I have some assumptions about what is going on, but that is Angel's story to tell, not mine. Though if Val's making him work abnormal shifts, it probably means that Moth had expected this place would fail or Angel would get fed up with everything here and return to living at the studio by now. Since that hasn't happened, he is resorting to stricter measures to keep the kid under his control. While it is imperative we do find a way to break or nullify the contract so he isn't subjected to whatever Valentino is doing any more. If we go about this too quickly, Val may find reason to take things too far."
"I agree," Charlie admitted, her voice serious. "Angel is resilient, but pushing him when he isn't ready could backfire. However, gathering information subtly could be beneficial. We need to understand the full scope of Valentino's hold over him. We took on Adam on our own, we had help from Rosie and Carmilla, and of course my Dad. Valentino may be an Overlord and he may have two other Overlords on his side. All of whom will make themselves a threat to this hotel and everyone here if we let them. Still, Angel deserves a chance at redemption, just like everyone else here. And if we don't stand up for him or anyone else under the Vees, then who will?"
The room fell into contemplative silence once more, each person lost in their thoughts about the task ahead. The simple meal that was meant to bring pleasure and enjoyment tasted bitter in everyone's mouths.
At the conclusion of the evening meal, Ari and Riven quietly returned to their rooms, their minds swirling with the unsettling revelations from dinner. The corridors of the hotel were dimly lit, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and twist as they walked in silence. Each step echoed in the stillness, amplifying the tension between the two brothers. The weight of the information they had just learned pressed down on them, making the air feel thick and oppressive.
As they reached Ari's room, the brothers quickly slipped inside, closing the door firmly behind them as if to shut out the world outside. Ari immediately moved to the small desk in the corner, his movements sharp and purposeful. He pulled out his Hell Phone, a device as dark and foreboding as the task it was created for. His fingers hovered over the buttons for a moment, trembling slightly, before he pressed before he brought up the application that connected them to the Ragno family across town.
Taking a deep breath, Ari tried to steady himself, though his mind was still racing. He leaned closer to the device, his voice steady but laced with underlying tension as he spoke. "Contact, this is Ari and Riven signing in," he stated clearly. The room was filled with an eerie silence that was soon broken only by the sound of static—an abrasive, grating noise that seemed to mock their efforts.
Riven, standing close by, his posture tense and alert, frowned deeply as he watched his older brother. Something wasn't right. He pulled out his own Hell Phone, identical to Ari's but with a few personal modifications. "Hey… you guys there?" he inquired, his voice carrying a note of irritation mixed with worry. The static persisted, crackling like distant thunder before finally giving way to a faint, distant voice on the other end.
"Finally," the voice responded, a mix of relief and frustration evident in their tone. "What the hell happened? We lost you for a while there."
Riven shot a glance at Ari, his frown deepening. "We just went down to dinner," he replied, his voice tight with exasperation and a hint of confusion. "You didn't hear the conversation?"
There was a brief pause on the other end, filled with more static, before the voice returned. "We lost contact with you guys right after the Radio Demon asked what you were there for. After that, it was just dead air."
Ari and Riven exchanged uneasy glances. The memory of the Radio Demon—Alastor—flooded back into their minds, his piercing red eyes, his unnerving smile, and the way he seemed to know more than he let on. His cryptic questions and the way he seemed to size them up with each word left an unsettling impression that was hard to shake.
"That encounter was... intense," Ari began, his voice measured as he chose his words carefully. His thoughts raced as he considered what had transpired. "Hang on, let me see if we have a recording of the conversation downstairs." He tapped the feature that should have automatically recorded everything as a backup, but when he played it back, there was nothing but static. The recording cut out abruptly after Alastor's chilling words, "Good evening, gentlemen." Ari's dark eyes widened in surprise, and a cold dread settled in his chest.
"Hang on, I've probably got it," Riven said, a flicker of hope in his voice as he checked his own Hell Phone. He navigated to the recordings, expecting to find the dinner conversation. But as he scrolled through, his expression shifted from hopeful to bewildered. "Huh… what… it's not here, not even a transcript. How is that possible?"
Ari's brow furrowed as he processed this new development. "When Alastor approached us," he said thoughtfully, piecing together the puzzle, "he must have done something to knock out our signal. So during the whole exchange downstairs, neither of us realized we were offline. It's almost like he was playing a game with us."
Riven nodded in agreement, his expression darkening. "He knew our motives for being here weren't about redemption. But what's more concerning is that he doesn't care about why we're here, yet he made it clear that he has a lot at stake in this place. He said he wouldn't allow the hotel or anyone in it to come to harm."
The contact on the other end of the line sighed, the sound filled with a mix of resignation and concern. "Looks like we've got no choice but to hear out what you guys learned. We're in the dark on our end."
Ari leaned back in his chair, his mind racing as he tried to organize his thoughts. "Alright," he began, his voice steady despite the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. "From what we gathered, everything going on here may not be what we assumed it is. The dinner conversation revealed more layers to this place and the people in it than we anticipated."
After the two spiders relayed everything they heard at the evening meal. The static on the other end of the line crackled once more before the contact's voice returned, more somber now. "Keep your heads down and stay sharp. We'll need to reassess our strategy based on this new intel. For now, just stay safe and keep gathering information."
Ari and Riven exchanged a final glance, their resolve hardening. They were deep in the heart of something far beyond their original mission, and the stakes were higher than they'd ever imagined. As the room fell into a heavy silence once more, they both knew there was no turning back now. The only way out was through—no matter what awaited them on the other side.
The front door of the hotel creaked open, the sound echoing eerily through the dimly lit foyer as Angel Dust stepped inside. His entire body trembled, teeth chattering uncontrollably as he wrapped his arms around himself in a desperate, but futile, attempt to stave off the biting cold. The icy chill had seeped deep into his bones, a lingering reminder of the night's relentless downpour. As the door closed behind him with a resounding boom, it seemed to reverberate through the empty halls, ensuring that if anyone was awake, they would know he was back.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, dragging his steps as he moved farther into the hotel. Every muscle in his body ached, a dull, throbbing pain that pulsed with each movement. Hours spent working under Val's oppressive thumb had left him sore and spent, his energy completely drained. But it was the cold that had truly undone him—the unending cold that had clawed at him during the long hike across town. The rain had been unrelenting, a torrential downpour that drenched him to the core, and the torture he had endured earlier only added to his misery. The icy water, a recently favored tool of Val's cruelty, had been merciless, chilling him from the inside out.
His body screamed for rest, but Angel knew he wouldn't get much. The few hours he had before he had to drag himself back to the studio offered little hope of real recovery. Still, even those precious hours were a lifeline, a brief respite he clung to in the face of what awaited him.
Grumbling in irritation, Angel shuffled toward the fireplace. The fire, once a blazing source of warmth, had dwindled to mere embers, the last flickers of heat struggling to survive. He crouched down, extending his hands toward the dying flames in a vain effort to soak up whatever warmth they still offered. The heat barely reached him, a far cry from what he needed to dispel the deep-seated chill. His body was stressed, pushed to the brink by the relentless demands of the production. The constant pressure Val placed him under was beginning to take its toll, and Angel could feel it in every fiber of his being.
He knew what Val was doing. The long, grueling double shifts, the cruel water torture, the forced trek through the storm—it was all part of a twisted game, a way to break him down even further. Val claimed they were under a tight schedule, that the extra-long shifts were necessary to meet deadlines, but Angel knew better. He wasn't naïve. Val was punishing him, exerting his control in the most sadistic ways possible. It wasn't about the work; it was about power, about keeping Angel under his thumb, reminding him of who was in charge.
But Angel was determined to survive it, no matter how much Val pushed. Just a couple more days, he told himself. A couple more days of enduring Val's torment, and then he'd have some time off—a brief escape from the nightmare that had become his daily existence. He could finally rest, finally allow himself to collapse into the exhaustion that gnawed at him. But until then, he had to hold on. He had to endure.
He fell backward in shock as the fireplace suddenly roared to life, the flames leaping high and casting an eerie glow across the room. His heart raced as he scrambled to his feet, instinctively knowing that this sudden burst of warmth had to be the work of one of the magic users within the hotel. He glanced around cautiously, his senses on high alert, feeling an unsettling presence that made the fur on the back of his neck stand up. It was clear that he wasn't alone.
His first thought was to rule out Charlie; if she were behind this, she'd be in the parlor, greeting him with her characteristic cheerfulness. But Charlie wasn't the type to lurk in the shadows or make dramatic entrances. No, this had a different signature—a subtle, yet powerful presence that felt almost… regal. His thoughts quickly shifted to Alastor, the Radio Demon, with his perpetual Cheshire grin and eerie demeanor. But the energy in the room wasn't tinged with Alastor's brand of smug malevolence.
Before he could ponder further, a voice drifted down from the top of the grand staircase, resonant and warm spirited, carrying with it an air of paternal authority. "I suppose I should say 'Welcome Back.'"
Angel looked up, his gaze landing on a figure standing at the top of the stairs. Sure enough, it was none other than Lucifer Morningstar, Charlie's father, the Fallen Angel himself. The sight of him filled Angel with a mix of emotions—relief, trepidation, and something else he couldn't quite place. While Lucifer's presence was certainly preferable to the unnerving, ever-grinning Alastor, Angel hadn't had many opportunities to interact with the enigmatic ruler of Hell in person.
Lucifer's reputation preceded him, of course. As the ruler of Hell and a being of immense power, he was a figure that commanded respect—and a certain amount of fear. Angel, who had long relied on his charms and wiles to survive, instinctively knew how to navigate interactions with men of wealth and power. But with Lucifer, it was different. He had been making a conscious effort to curb those old habits, partially out of respect for Charlie's ambitions to redeem sinners, but also because there was something about Lucifer that unsettled him in a way he couldn't quite define.
It wasn't lust or sexual attraction—no, it was something deeper, something that tugged at a part of him he had long buried. It was a feeling of desire, but not for anything physical. It was as if something he had always yearned for was standing right in front of him, just out of reach, and yet, he knew it wasn't his to claim. The sensation left him feeling both drawn to and wary of the Fallen Angel, an internal conflict that made him uneasy.
Lucifer didn't immediately descend the stairs. Instead, he lingered at the top, regarding Angel with an expression that was hard to read. Was it curiosity? Pity? Perhaps both. He wasn't dressed in his usual swallow tailed coat and top hat, which suggested he had left them in his top-floor room, opting for a more casual appearance.
Without warning, Lucifer vanished in a swirl of flame, only to reappear moments later on the ground floor, mere feet away from Angel. The suddenness of it made Angel tense, but he quickly composed himself as Lucifer snapped his fingers, conjuring a warm, gentle breeze that wrapped around Angel like a comforting blanket. The warmth seeped into his cold, wet fur, drying him off and banishing the lingering chill that had settled in his bones.
"That should be more comfortable," Lucifer said, a pleased smile crossing his lips. His tone was kind, almost fatherly, and for a moment, Angel felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence. It was a rare feeling for him, especially in this place, surrounded by souls as tormented as his own. But as he stood there, enveloped in the warmth Lucifer had provided, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this encounter than mere hospitality.
Lucifer's gaze held a depth that made Angel uneasy, as if he were being scrutinized, his very soul laid bare under the Fallen Angel's piercing eyes. It was unsettling, but at the same time, it stirred something within him—a flicker of hope, perhaps, or maybe just a yearning for something he couldn't quite name. Whatever it was, it left Angel feeling vulnerable in a way he hadn't in a long time.
He offered a tentative smile in return, trying to mask his unease. "Thanks," he murmured, unsure of what else to say. The hotel was supposed to be a place of refuge, a sanctuary for the lost and damned. But with Lucifer here, the lines between sanctuary and something far more complex seemed to blur. And Angel couldn't help but wonder what, exactly, the ruler of Hell saw when he looked at him—and what that might mean for his future.
Lucifer pulled a gold pocket watch from the pocket of his waistcoat, its surface gleaming in the dim light as he flipped it open and glanced at the time. "It's nearly four," he remarked, his tone casual yet observant. "You must have been pulling quite a shift at the studio."
"Val had me working for eighteen hours," Angel replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion. There was something about Lucifer's presence that made him feel he didn't need to hide his weariness, his vulnerability. Maybe it was the sheer fatigue weighing down his every word, or perhaps it was the unusual comfort in Lucifer's company that stripped away the mask he usually wore. "I should probably get some sleep before I'm needed back at the studio at 9 AM."
Lucifer's expression shifted slightly, his previously friendly tone now tinged with concern. "Wait, 9 AM? But that's only five hours from now. So that means you'd be running on how many hours of sleep, exactly?"
Angel sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him even more heavily. "Uh, around two, maybe two and a half," he admitted, the reality of it sinking in as he spoke. "It's about a thirty to forty-minute hike to the studio from here."
Lucifer's brows furrowed slightly, the concern in his voice deepening. "Hang on," he suggested, his voice steady and calm. "Let's sit down and talk about this because this is sounding problematic."
Angel hesitated for a moment before relenting, letting out a weary sigh as he moved toward one of the parlor armchairs. The plush seat was a far cry from the bed he longed to collapse into, but he knew he couldn't simply brush off Lucifer's concern, especially not when the King of Hell himself had taken an interest in his well-being. Unlike Charlie, whose compassion and understanding were a given, Lucifer's attention was rare and significant, and Angel knew better than to dismiss it, no matter how much he wanted to rest.
"You'd be better off talking to my boss," Angel said as he settled into the armchair, the cushions offering some relief to his aching body. He could feel the exhaustion tugging at him, a heavy blanket of fatigue that threatened to pull him under, but he forced himself to stay present, if only out of respect for Lucifer. "Val's the one who keeps piling on the hours."
"Oh, trust me, I will be doing so," Lucifer agreed, his voice calm and resolute as he settled into the parlor couch. The cushions seemed to conform to his presence, as if even the furniture recognized his authority. Angel, meanwhile, kept his gaze fixed on the fire burning in the hearth, avoiding Lucifer's penetrating eyes. The uneasy feeling of desire stirred within him again, and he wasn't sure how to make sense of it. This was different from the lustful feelings he was used to—it was something deeper, more complex, and it unsettled him.
He wasn't accustomed to an authority figure, especially a male one, showing genuine concern for him or his well-being. Most of his life had been spent navigating a world where those in power told him what he should be, reminding him of his place and using him to fulfill their desires. Concern, compassion—these were not things he associated with men in positions of power, and it left him feeling both exposed and confused.
"Your friend…Cherri Bomb, if I'm not mistaken," Lucifer began, his tone conversational, but there was a hint of something more behind it—curiosity, perhaps, or even subtle probing.
"Yeah," Angel affirmed, his voice quiet as he continued to stare into the flickering flames. The firelight danced across his face, casting shadows that mirrored the turmoil inside him.
"During dinner this evening, she mentioned that you used to live at the studio before you moved to the hotel," Lucifer continued, watching Angel closely. Angel nodded in response, still not lifting his gaze from the fire. The flames were a welcome distraction, a way to avoid confronting the conflicting emotions swirling inside him.
"I understand that productions can be demanding, with tight schedules that often require long hours," Lucifer said, his voice steady and measured. "So, I can see why the excessive shifts might be necessary. But wouldn't it be simpler to inform Charlie that you're staying at the studio because of this production, rather than forcing yourself to make the long trek back to the hotel each night?"
At Lucifer's question, Angel's hand clenched into a fist, the tension in his body evident, but he forced himself to remain calm. The question wasn't posed as a judgment, but rather as a genuine inquiry, a curiosity about why Angel wouldn't choose what seemed like the more obvious and convenient solution. But the simplicity of the question belied the complexity of Angel's situation.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before speaking. "It's not that simple," Angel finally said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Staying at the studio… it's not about convenience. It's about survival."
Lucifer's gaze remained steady, his expression unchanged, but there was a softness in his eyes that encouraged Angel to continue.
"When I lived at the studio," Angel went on, still staring into the fire as if it held all the answers he needed, "it wasn't just about having a place to stay. It was… it was where I was kept. Where Val could keep an eye on me, control me." His voice trembled slightly, but he pressed on, determined to explain. "Being there all the time meant I was always on call, always available for whatever he wanted. There was no escape, no break, no… no freedom."
He paused, feeling the weight of his own words, the memories they dredged up. "Moving to the hotel, it was more than just finding a new place to sleep. It was… it was a way to get away from that, to have some distance, even if it's just a few hours at night. Coming back here, it's the only time I get to feel like I'm not… not just something to be used."
Lucifer listened intently, his expression one of understanding. "So returning to the hotel isn't just about rest," he said softly. "It's about reclaiming some part of yourself."
Angel nodded, a sense of relief washing over him as he realized Lucifer understood. "Yeah," he said quietly. "That's why I don't just stay at the studio, even if it would make things easier."
"The reason I'm dealing with these excessive production hours is because Val wants me to move back to the studio," Angel admitted, his voice laced with weariness. He brought a hand to his neck, noticing the scratchiness in his throat—a telltale sign that his body was beginning to succumb to the stress he'd been under. It was as if the relentless pressure he'd been enduring had finally opened the door for some illness to creep in. The last thing he needed was to get sick on top of everything else.
"He's expecting that if I'm working late enough, then I'd find it simpler to just stay there rather than returning to the hotel," Angel continued, his tone heavy with resignation. "I don't really have any issues with the studio itself; I mean, I've got people there I'm on good terms with, and my old room wasn't bad. But it's Val… the way he is behind closed doors." He hesitated, feeling the familiar knot of dread tighten in his chest. He wanted to tell Lucifer everything, to lay bare the horrors he faced every time he set foot in that place, but the words caught in his throat, trapped by the overwhelming surge of emotion.
"He's…" Angel bit his lip, struggling to keep the flood of feelings at bay. How could he put into words the nightmare that was Valentino? The abuse, the humiliation, the constant degradation—it was a living hell, one that left him feeling utterly powerless. He longed for someone like Charlie to understand, to see the truth of what he endured, but the shame and fear were too great. If Val ever found out he'd spoken about it, there would be consequences—severe ones. Angel couldn't afford to show such weakness, not now, not here.
Lucifer, ever perceptive, seemed to pick up on the unspoken pain. "Is it possible for you to quit?" he asked, his voice calm but probing, much like Husk had asked months ago. It was as if Lucifer could sense the turmoil Angel was trying to hide, the silent cries for help buried beneath layers of forced composure.
Angel let out a deep sigh, the weight of his situation pressing down on him even more. "Believe me, I've wanted to quit a number of times since joining the studio," he confessed, his voice tinged with a bitterness that came from years of being trapped in a cycle he couldn't escape. "I've tried running away, a few times. I've even tried putting myself in a coma again on a couple of occasions, just to get away from it all, to find some peace. But every time I do, Val uses it as an opportunity to remind me that he owns me—that everything I am now is because of him."
He paused, the memories of those attempts to escape flashing through his mind. Each time, Val had been there to drag him back, to assert his control in the most brutal ways. "The deal I have with him is technically limited to the studio," Angel continued, a note of resignation creeping into his voice. "Before the hotel, he didn't really care if I was at Cherri's place, hanging out at a club, or wherever I was during off-hours, because he knew I'd return to the studio one way or another. He always knew how to reel me back in."
Angel's gaze dropped to the floor, his fingers idly tracing the armrest of the chair as he spoke. "Even if I were to text Val right now and tell him to go screw himself, he'd only show up here to drag me back," he said, the bitterness in his voice more pronounced. "And he wouldn't just stop at dragging me back—he'd hurt anyone who got in his way, anyone close to me, just to make a point. That's the kind of monster he is."
The room felt heavy with the weight of Angel's words, the gravity of his situation sinking in. "So, no, I don't go to the studio because I want to," Angel added, his voice cracking slightly as he fought back the rising emotion. "I go there because it protects everyone here. If I don't, Val will bring his wrath down on the hotel, on Charlie, on anyone he thinks matters to me. And I… I can't let that happen. No matter how much I hate it, no matter how much I want to run, I can't let him hurt them. I won't."
"Couldn't you call in sick?" Lucifer's voice carried a sharp edge, his eyes narrowing as he studied the figure before him. It was a question laced with genuine confusion, a rare emotion for the Prince of Pride. He had long assumed that the souls Charlie had managed to gather in her hotel were driven solely by their own selfish motives—a trait that had condemned them to Hell in the first place.
The snake-like sinner who had sacrificed himself in a desperate attempt to eliminate Adam, had thrown Lucifer's assumptions into disarray. The snake demons act was undeniably heroic, an unexpected gesture of selflessness that clashed with everything Lucifer knew about the denizens of Hell. Yet, even as he acknowledged the bravery of the act, a part of him remained skeptical. Could a single noble deed truly outweigh a lifetime of sin? Was it enough to hint at redemption, or merely a fluke in the tapestry of damnation?
Then there was Angel. This one puzzled Lucifer even more. From the moment he was assisting his daughter's companions with rebuilding the hotel, Lucifer had sensed something different about Angel—a peculiar lightness that seemed out of place in the eternal shadows of Hell. He had initially credited Charlie's influence, believing that her efforts might have succeeded in nurturing a sliver of goodness within a corrupt soul. But now, hearing of Angel's actions, Lucifer began to doubt his own judgment.
Could it be that Angel was in Hell by mistake? It was an unsettling thought, one that gnawed at the edges of Lucifer's certainty. After all, the gates of Hell were not known for making errors in judgment. Every soul that crossed its threshold had committed some transgression, some sin that barred them from Heaven's grace. Yet Angel's behavior didn't align with that of a condemned soul. He had displayed a willingness to risk his own existence for the sake of others—a trait so foreign to the damned that it bordered on the unthinkable.
Lucifer's mind raced with questions. What had Angel done to end up here? What sin could possibly have warranted such a fate for someone capable of such selflessness? The more Lucifer pondered, the more he realized that Angel was an anomaly in the infernal order—a soul that defied the very logic of damnation.
He had encountered countless souls over the eons, each one marked by their own brand of wickedness. Some were cruel, others deceitful, and many were simply indifferent to the suffering of others. But never had he encountered a soul that willingly put itself in harm's way to protect others. It was a notion so alien to Hell's nature that it left Lucifer with a deep, unsettling uncertainty.
What if Charlie had indeed influenced this soul, or worse, what if Heaven had made a mistake? The idea that Hell might harbor a soul undeserving of its fate sent a ripple through Lucifer's otherwise unshakeable composure. For the first time in a long while, he found himself questioning the infallibility of the system he had always believed in. What was the true nature of redemption? And if a soul like Angel's could exist here, what did that mean for the rest of the damned?
The thought was both troubling and intriguing, and Lucifer knew he couldn't simply dismiss it. He needed answers. More than that, he needed to understand whether Angel was truly an outlier or if there were others like him—souls who had been misjudged, who perhaps did not belong in the eternal darkness. It was a possibility that challenged the very foundations of Hell, and Lucifer was determined to uncover the truth, no matter where it led.
"Val doesn't believe in sick days," Angel said, finally turning his attention to Lucifer. His voice was tinged with resignation, as if he had long accepted this harsh reality. "This production only has two more days of filming before it goes to post, then I have some days off. Please, just let me get through this."
Lucifer studied Angel closely, his concern deepening as he took in the sight of the spider demon's exhausted face. Even in the flickering light of the fire, the dark, bruise-like rings forming beneath Angel's eyes were unmistakable—a clear sign that the relentless late nights and constant pressure were taking a serious toll on his health. "I really think you should call in sick," Lucifer urged, his voice gentle but firm. The concern in his tone was genuine, a rare display from someone of his stature. "I can even make the call on your behalf if that's the only way your boss will agree."
Angel shook his head slightly, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "I'm not doubting that Val would give me time off if you requested it," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and weariness. "But cancellations in filming are costly. If I'm not there doing my job, he's going to make sure I suffer for it in ways you can't imagine."
Lucifer frowned, pulling out his pocket watch once more. The hands showed that it was close to 4:30 in the morning. Time was slipping away, and with it, any hope of Angel getting the rest he so desperately needed before the next grueling day began. "I don't like this, but…" Lucifer sighed, a note of reluctance in his voice. "Get what rest you can before 8:30 today. Then, close to 9, I can summon a portal that should bring you directly to the studio. It'll save you the hike and give you a bit more time to rest."
Angel's eyes flickered with a brief moment of relief at the offer, but it was quickly overshadowed by the weight of his situation. "Thanks," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The idea of avoiding the exhausting trek to the studio was a small mercy, one that he was grateful for, even if it didn't solve the larger problem.
Lucifer hesitated for a moment before asking, "Is there anyone you know who lives near the studio? Not a client or anything like that, but perhaps a friend or someone you trust. If there isn't, I can arrange for a boarding room in the area that can take you in on an emergency basis."
Angel considered the question, his mind racing as he tried to think of someone—anyone—who might be able to help him. The truth was, he had few real friends, and even fewer he could truly trust with the details of his life. Most of the people he knew were either clients or fellow performers, and none of them were in a position to offer the kind of safe haven Lucifer was suggesting. Except for one…Luca Celani.
"There is someone," Angel responded. "I don't want to involve him because Val might get ideas. But if it's only temporary, maybe…"
Angel trailed off, pondering the possibility. He hated the idea of dragging anyone else into his mess, but the alternative was looking worse by the minute. Lucifer, reading the hesitation on his face, spoke up gently, "I understand your concern, but it's crucial to consider your health and well-being. You can't keep running yourself into the ground like this, even if you are thinking about my daughter's wellbeing."
Angel sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "Alright, there's a guy named Luca. We were friends when we were alive, and he lives not too far from the studio. We are both in circumstances where we have to see each other as strangers, but he is someone I know I can trust."
Lucifer nodded approvingly. "Good. I'll make sure a portal is ready to take you to the studio in the morning. For now, get some rest. We'll deal with Val and his demands in due course." Angel gave a respectful nod of appreciation to the King of Hell before he made his way upstairs. Lucifer didn't watch the spider as he left, he also gazed into the fire as if in thought. Eventually he also disappeared in a swirl of flames and the fire in the hearth died out.
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Price of Freedom