hell or nothing

Per the last anon: HEEEEEERE’S MALACHY!

Acting “nurse” of the clinic, and Luce’s favorite form of home security-meets-secretary, Malachy is one of several demon-allied supernatural beings who make their home in Newark. The son of a human and a succubus, Malachy was born a mutant with a maw over his heart, and several chitinous stingers. He also has the capacity to shapeshift, making him the perfect “human” mimic. 

Is he--

Fuck if I know what th' hell goes on with Malachy on a given day. Prob'ly single, though. Buncha eyes an' practically launchin' venom everywhere when he sneezes answers that question.

He really, really considers sending his... assistant to go and get it. But, seeing as how he sort of, what, missed, this sort of mundane shit, he gets up.

He answers the door, looks at the speeding delivery teen. Gives a cursory wave, and glances down at the logo on the box. A wee bit of irony to start the day. It doesn't stop him from cackling, though. What the hell else could he do in a situation like this?

At least someone will get something to eat this morning. Unless nobody had ordered anything. In which case...

He is fully occupied. Fully oblivious. A bit too rusty in the art of being topside.

He knows this is his home. His base of operations rarely changes. But some things need moving, need vacating. Hollowing out. The static has died, and in its place, clarity. Returning to his duty begets clarity. Remembering his place begets rage, apathy.

Jet-black hands stretch towards the long-since vacant clinic. Hands close, crush. The structure shrieks in protest, rebar rutting against concrete. Runes pulling at mortar seams. Pipes bursting. Wires fraying and sparking. The hellmouth groans again, concrete splitting in twain up to the foundation of the clinic in the alley. 

And in an instant, his clawed palms open. The building stands, horrid-as-new, lights flickering worse than ever, the AC in the window sitting stock silent. The not-quite-human becomes quite-physically-human again, save for the tar that curls around his arm and up to his neck. Clawed hands card through choppy blonde hair, as if he had forgotten what it was like to look human. To play this game.

He thinks of what he often told the others, his head cocked sideways when the door swings open, bereft of any life for a near half-decade. He slaps a rune at the door, shutting it behind him.  A rat scurries through the lobby. A roach perches on his filing cabinet. The basement reeks of rot.  The static is silent. 

The stage is set a third time. A final act.

Whaaaaaaaaaaaat no dick war? I’d say this is th’ most disappointed I ever been wi’ myself but ya already made it clear that ya ain’t me.

An’ there were that time wi’ th’ watermelon. That’s still at th’ top of th’ list. 

[Nods thoughtfully and takes another drink.]

An’ th’ tradition is usually like… rings????????????? Maybe a matchin’ tattoo ‘er somethin’? Fuck, ya couldn’t jus’ go get ‘im a paint set made from th’ blood of a thousand virgins, ya had to do somethin’ dramatic like bother th’ fates? 

[Thinks about what might mess up an “angel radio” for a minute. Interference, obviously. Or being too far away from the source, which Worth didn’t think was possible if it normally worked on Earth and other dimensions and shit. Or maybe…]

Maybe there’s some wires scrambled.

[Tapped a finger against his forehead.] 

More likely than some unknown angel that’s so big an’ powerful that they jus’ cross all yer frequencies together into nothin’ but static. If they were that big a deal you’d fuckin’ know ‘bout them already. An’ let’s be real, no offense, but yer prolly playin’ wi’ less of a deck than I am. 

Th’ last time ya got an extra magical anything, y’scared my kid an’ I ended up havin’ t’ stab myself in th’ hand. I’m not really lookin’ forward t’ whatever you’d get into with a magical spare dick on account a’ likely bein’ th’ one t’ face some sorta consequence fer it.

An’ you ‘r not you, there’s.... similarities. You’d be haggard as shit, too, once ya hit t’ two-million mark.

[He takes a drink of his own, fangs clacking against the rim of the glass when the comment about rings is made. Sputters a little.]

We’re not fuckin’ married, don’t see why we’d need rings, yet. Besides, I went t’ Clotho because she’s a fuckin’ batty old crone. Didn’ trust his thread ’r mine with ‘er after that time Michael took ‘im fer a fuckin’ joyride. Less bother, more “If ya want shit done right”.

[The comment about the state of his mind gets a laugh, though. Nice and sharp.]

‘s an astute observation, really. Old man in roadkill body with a billion-year-old soul an’ some reoccurin’ mortal damage might be fuckin’ nuts. I know it’s busted. It gets busted more when weird shit’s afoot. So, we drink.

Ya better watch out, yer gonna cut yerself on that artsy edge.

[Teased before finally taking a sip of whatever was in that decanter. Hopefully absinthe, honestly, because it had been forever since he’d had any.]

Long as it ain’t straight up poison ‘er somethin’ that’s gonna grow me any extra eyes ‘er limbs, I can handle it. Now if ya wanna magically gimme an extra DICK, I might take ya up on th’ offer. Jus’ to keep up wi’ my other double. 

An’ if ya don’t mind my askin’, cuz I’m right curious, wut th’ fuck could happen to a guy who plays around wi’ severed heads in th’ last week that would drive ‘im to drink???? Unless it’s…

Oh god, issit relationship shit? I don’t think I’m drunk ‘nuff for that. 

[TAKES ANOTHER GULP.]

T’ be fair, no edges were involved. Think there was a dildo ‘r summat, though. Fuck if I remember. Think I was attemptin’ t’ entertain this fancy fucker with a blue suit an’ fucked up eye. Don’t quote me.

[It was definitely, if anything, absinthe. Luce had made a point of ensuring that the drink was at least of some sort of quality in regard to the original promise.]

I don’t have any clue who th’ two-dicked one might be, but I’m not lettin’ ya get int’ a dick war with someone. I don’t think I could handle th’ fuckin’ nonsense. No spare organs fer you fer at least a year. 

[His eyes narrow at the mention of relationship issues. He takes a sip and flashes his wrist, the silver-gold glinting of complex runic stitching visible.]

We’re fine as ever, mind you. Y’ don’t get th’ fates t’ affix shit t’ yer wrists when yer not fine.

 Besides, ‘m drinkin’ ‘cause I’ve been hearin’ nothin’ but static fer weeks, which either means Michael isn’t as dead as I thought he was, or someone else is in town, ya dig?  All a’ my brood’s connected on this sorta angel radio, an’ it’s gone absolutely fuckin’ crazy. 

[so much of what he’s saying is fucking upsetting and Luke just. Grinned through it. Boi. Don’t be half dead. Don’t get your eyes popped. Wtf.]

…hah, well y’ don’ need to know a thing about technology, tha’s my job. Once it’s in there, all yah gotta do is…not lose it.

[Luke carefully popped one of his own eyeballs out, holding it up to show off. Tadaaa~]

Course…when I make eyes they don’ function outside the head. This fucker was made for me by somebody else and I can see through it and get sea sick whenever I take it out!

[popped it back in before that could happen LOL yeah.]

I can make ‘em look jus’ about as nice though.

Though you’d probably pull off the metal an’ glowin’ red eye look. Like uh…ex…exterminator?

[Luke cannot remember his references but hopefully you get what he means]

[He grins a bit at the concept.]

I already get enough shit fer poor biological maintenance. If I had a piece a’ tech in me, I’d drive everyone batshit. 

[The eye trick gets a little clap from him, when he takes out his own to show it off.]

It doesn’t do anythin’ but keep my eye socket in place, but it does have some gold in it? Pawned it off some glassworker in Hell sometime after I lost my eye. It’s got th’ added benefit a’ turnin’ into a cat toy, sometimes. 

[Laughed a good bit. Raspy, but–hey, he didn’t caught his way through the end of it. That was?? So refreshing???? A good rule of thumb was that Dok was taking in things said even when he wasn’t bringing attention to it by talking about it some more.] Ain’ tha’ right.

[He took a deep breath and swayed from foot to foot. Working the right hand and scalpel a few more minutes before he realized he was sufficiently sloshed. Scooted up closer to the edge of the desk. Took another swig from the much more blue vodka for good measure. 

Dok started into it straight after that. Scalpels went a twirling in one hand, then the other–fast and deft into a routine that turned out to be to a beat punctuated by thunks and taps into each other and the edge of the desk in front of Dok. It’s a pretty basic once, just enough to recognize in the bones without placing to any particular song.

Finished in a finale where both scalpels were thrown, without warning, toward the other Worth’s head

and into the wall behind him, brushing harmlessly close to ear rims on the way.

Dok grinning the same as a wolf faced, shark eyed, loon. Arms and hands in a small flourish.]

Mhm.

[Just a little noise of agreement, he’s not entirely sure why this particular universal double makes him so at ease or filled with a sense of impress, but it’s a nice break from the particular headaches the others can give him, sometimes.  The little song routine on the scalpels was enough to-

His thumb brushes the shell of his ear. Mother fucker.]

Y’know, me an’ my twin get int’ th’ game a’ throwin’ scalpels as an act a’ distress, but yer th’ only one I’ve seen do it fer a fuckin’ sport. Now, I might be remiss t’ say that it’s absolutely a talent-

[He whistles loudly, looking back where the scalpels left their marks in the wall.]

[everything was fine until he said he “eats people”, then Luke got a very distant look on his face and his mouth fell into a bit of s grimace. Uhh…keep it together Luke, everything in the world is horrifying and can kill you, you just gotta stay cheerful and assume most of it won’t!!! Slow breath through the nose and he relaxed again with a laugh.]

Hah, right, listen ya’ll are all handsome fuckers and It’s hard to tell yah apart sometimes. Except…you’ve got th whole…body rottin’ away at the seams kinda look.

…y’know, I can replace eyeballs and extremities if y’ever wanna be CYBORG Worth instead.

[The laugh was certainly different, and it gets a little laugh in response. 10/10 on the keeping cool scale, there. He puts his hands up in mock resignation.]

I’ve had this body fer almost fifty fuckin’ years now, an’ I managed t’ live through havin’ my eye popped like a grape an’ gettin’ fully impaled on a wrought iron fence in th’ last five years. Also, waterboarded with holy water. This body died when it was thirty-eight, about. Me lookin’ this good is a fuckin’ godsend. 

[The comment about the eye replacement catches his attention.]

UH. Well I have a suspicion that my arms and legs are ghosts….

[looked down at his robo hands and flexed the fingers. Ghost hands…]

…but nah, th’universe would rather cut me up slowly, bit by bit until there’s nothin’ left but a brain in a tin can.

[shrugged! Nbd. But…]

….I…uh…which…which one are yah?

‘s called a phantom limb. Get ‘em with my- 

[The question gets a quirked brow in response.]

I ain’ started tha show, ya fuck.

[But he let him be. Encouraged anyway. He was just reminding his hands how to do the actual whole trick. And waiting for the vodka to actually saturate his brain sponge or whatever. Sometimes his right hand gave him some trouble if he didn’t stretch it first.]

Hmng, complicated mess. Ain’ worth gettin’ too worked up ‘bout. If e’erybody’s well.

I ain’t callin’ him none o’ that. I dun got a fuckin’ rope strong ‘nough ta keep his head from floatin’ from that shit.

Scalpels are out, show is on. ‘s how I see it.

[He nods his head.]

Like an ol’ man wit’ hard candy. Fuckin’. [Showed an entire middle finger off to the other. Taking deeper gulps. Soon had enough, he thought, to get proper drunk. Putting the bottle back down on the desk.

Out came two scalpels he kept as weapons–weapons because they weren’t still in protective plastic wrappers. Working them into twirls between fingers of both hands. Starting and stopping as he reminded himself how to do it.

He could drink a lot at once, but it always takes a minute to get settled in.]

Yer tha critter wit’ my face the squirrely one was talkin’ ‘bout. Ya ain’ tha fanger one, neither…tha vamp a Connie-boy? Who’s tha kid?

[That finger gets a laugh, all those lamprey-teeth bared behind the mouth of a bottle. Three sips in, and he gives a clap for the trick. Quick hands are always a fun thing to watch.]

A’right, ya get th’ story fer that lil’ show. 

If by squirrel, ya mean undead an’ planewalker, then I might be that very bastard he was talkin’ about. Critter’s a good way t’ put it. I’m lots of things, when I wanna be. Th’ second person here is Conrad, at least, one a’ th’ local ones. But he’s-

[Pauses for a minute. Scratches his face in thought.]

I like sugar, sue me. Fuckin’ Christ? Whatcha lot all eat, eh? Day old used coffee bean powder??? [Shook his head and came closer to take the bottle. Taking the cap off and putting it on the edge of the desk. Digging out a few blue jolly ranchers from coat pocket. Dropping them into the alcohol after unwrapping them.

Didn’t wait too long for them to dissolve before he started taking drink from the bottle straight. Free booze! It’d taste a bit like the rancher eventually.]

Eh, jus’ didn’ expect ya t’ walk around like an old man with hard candy. 

[There’s a weird glint to his eye when the comment about food comes up. He’ll be honest.]

Two thirds a’ this clinic drink blood ‘r eat raw meat, an’ th’ remainin’ one-third is a kid who doesn’t get t’ juice people fer a snack. I’d say my diet’s mostly consisted a’ dead things fer as long as I remember. 

Vokda is fine ‘nough. Gotta couple ranchers I can drop innit.

[Paused and…squinted like fiver more degrees closer to a sliver. He caught that, but he didn’t have anything to say about it yet. And sometimes it’s better to seem oblivious.]

That’s kinda adorable, really. Keepin’ fuckin’ candy around ‘n shit like that.

[Pulls a drawer open and just sort of finagles a bottle towards him, old Smirnoff has its perks. LIke, being vodka. That is its only perk.]