@hells-hazbins
Saint Peter’s head throbbed with a dull, rhythmic ache as consciousness crept back to him. His eyelids felt heavy, his limbs heavier still, as if his body were weighed down by invisible chains. The air around him was thick with the faint hum of electricity — an unnatural, static buzz that prickled against his skin.
When he finally forced his eyes open, he found himself staring up at a ceiling washed in neon light. Hazy pinks and purples pulsed faintly through the dark, reflecting off polished chrome surfaces that seemed too clean, too precise. He blinked several times before realizing — this wasn’t Heaven.
Peter sat up, wincing as a jolt of pain shot through his shoulder — bruised, perhaps dislocated. His robes were torn, the once-white fabric stained with dark streaks of soot. He remembered descending to the border between realms after receiving the call from Anthony/Angel Dust — a plea for help.
Anthony had sounded desperate. He’d said he was in trouble, that something was wrong, that he needed divine intervention before things spiraled out of control. Peter hadn’t hesitated. He had helped Anthony when he first arrived in Hell and the spider demon had been one of the few sinners who’d shown remorse — even gratitude — for the small mercies Heaven had allowed.
But the moment Peter stepped into that alleyway in the lower district, he felt it — the static. The air had shifted, humming with technological interference. And then Vox appeared, grinning like a devil who’d been waiting centuries for this exact moment.
There had been no time to respond before everything went white.
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Alastor was on full rampage mode. Bloodthirsty and having the time of his afterlife. He charges at the other overlord in an attempt to tackle Vox but misses as the other dives out of the way at the last second. The radio demon skids to a stop and whips around, a car suddenly flying at his form. Instead of attempting to dodge he instead slashes the vehicle in half and distorted laughter emanating from him.
"YOU WISH YOU COULD!"
He retorts as shadow tendrils snatch the two halves of the car he cut through out of the air and yeet back towards Vox. The wendio form of Alastor dashes around the other, picking up and throwing cars and various other things at his opponent. He disappears into shadow then reappears above Vox in an attempt to drop down on the other overlord.
"Harder Daddy?" Husk's already making the drink, Angel looks like he could use it. (Hello!) for @hells-hazbins
He had barely registered what was said, fingers trying to massage at his temples, staring at the bar top he had just sat at. He felt sick, absolutely could tell he was in the beginnings of a migraine - which had been odd since nothing had really happened to cause it. So used to that though that he didn't think twice about it, only just now registering what Husk had said.
They had been becoming much more open and honest with each other, but it didn't stop Angel from falling into old habits. Not wanting Husk to worry too much about him, it was easier to fall into just changing the subject, maybe acting a bit silly. "Yeh' know, don't think ah'll eva' get sick a' hearin' those words from yeh' mouth, kitten." Teasing, eyes sparkling a bit. Two words Husk probably internally groaned every time he had to say them.
"Did ah' eva' tell yeh' why ah' wanted t' name th' drink that? Other than th' fact that it's my favorite thing t' say in and outta' th' bedroom?" Surprisingly, Husk had just gone along with it when Angel had brought it up. He actually had put thought into it, thank you very much.
Abel walked over to his friend cupped her face in his hands. He gently ran his thumbs to dry her tears. He'd been at his breaking point like this before too. More recently now than ever. He knew what it felt like to want to crawl away from the world and hide when things god tough.
He did it for a while after his dad died.
"I think I can handle a little bit more," he assured her "you've helped me. Even if you don't realize it. You've always had the balls to stand up for what you believe and that is- so admirable.
"That's why it hurts so much to see you struggling like this. I want to help take at least some of that stress off of you. I've got my own shit, sure. You helped me when I was in a dark place, so, now it's time for me to extend a hand."
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It was hard NOT to hear about that happening. That damn TV guy was actually kind of scary. He nodded a little and stepped to the side, gesturing into the home him and Ozzie shared. Of course, he probably would still have let them in Blitzo didn't say please. He'd seen the news, it was hard not to.
But, they were safe from all that madness here. No sinners in the lust ring! Just the way he liked it. Uhg. Sinners.
"Come on in" he said, "I'll let Ozzie know you're here, and get him to have someone else set up your rooms for you." They really did have a lot of space there, more space than a lot of imps would wind up working in, let alone live!
Then, he hugged Blitzo, wrapping his arms around them.
"I'm glad no one was hurt. No one was hurt.. right? Pleeeeease tell me no one was hurt."
Niffty’s faith in Alastor was unshakeable, but she couldn’t help but fear, deeply this time. Alastor had never let himself get caught in a situation like this, and all she could think back to, was that horrific wound on his chest.
“….He was really hurt.” She leaned against the feline slightly, seeking physical comfort. “I didn’t think he could get hurt.”
