"Now, now...Husk. I believe you've forgotten your place." Alastor's voice came out rather menacing and staticky in a way as he laughed. "I find it quite rude for you to be talking about me behind my back, I heard everything that you told our dear friend, Angel Dust." He then yanked Husk's leash towards him, looming over the former Overlord.
It's clear that Alastor has taken extreme measures and he is furious. "Amuse me, did you find it funny that I had to leave in the middle of a fight due to getting injured?" He tightened his grip on Husk's leash as his grin widened even more. "Do you really have such a problem with me having control of you? You should be lucky that you're still alive and that I didn't kill you just like the former Overlords."
"Trust me, I can't kill you or get rid of you because the rest of our friends cares a lot about you and I'd rather not get on Angel Dust or the Princess of Hell's bad side." His eyes glowed a bright ruby red as he crouched down to Husk's height. "Husk, you're going to have to make it up to me if you'd rather keep your skin well-intact."
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John was surprised at how quickly he ended up outnumbered. One second, he was making quick work of a group of guards until one in particular refused to go down. With him and a few others as the distraction, another guard had the opportunity to tase John.
With the Baba Yaga knocked out cold, the guards presented him to their boss. She was impressed, of course, but what use did she have for him? Surely, he wouldn’t work for her, and she wouldn’t take that chance anyway. She couldn’t kill him, he was worth far more than that. A trophy, perhaps.
When John came to, he was being hauled up by two men. His instincts kicked in, his arms attempting to fly out at his captors but the shackles around his wrists prevented it. A chain was wrapped around his waist and both ends threaded through a metal loop, with each end having a cuff. As soon as he pulled his arms away from his body, the chain tightened around his waist. As he stepped forward, the short chain around his ankles tripped him. He fell into a heap on the floor, landing on his face and hands with a pained grunt.
The two men grabbed him under the armpits and brought him to a kneeling position. He tried to stand again but one guard pushed him back down with a hand on his shoulder. John gritted his teeth and lunged, getting hold of the guard’s wrist and sinking his teeth in as hard as he could. He didn’t flinch as his mouth filled with the other man’s blood, not until he was cracked over the head with a pistol.
“Oh, John...” a condescending voice spoke from behind him. Her heels clacked closer until he felt a hand on the top of his head. Her fingers threaded through his hair, gently, before quickly wrapping her hand in his long hair and yanking his head back. “...If you want to act like a dog, I’ll gladly treat you like one.”
John felt a cool strip of leather make its way around his neck, presumably by a guard behind him who now knew better than to put his arm near John’s mouth. With a hand still tangled in his hair, the woman stepped around in front of John, flicking her eyes down to his bloodstained lips and chin. She pulled back on his hair once more, and clipped a thick, leather leash to the metal loop on the collar.
With the leash firmly in her grasp, she stepped out of reach of John’s mouth and grinned at his snarling face, “Good boy.”
