#only bones

You spend some time going through your limited wardrobe, choosing to go for something more traditional to really sell the “homemade” part of your business. A thrifted A-line skirt and button up blouse did the trick, they made a nice combo as you sat in front of your old vanity dresser humming along to the tune of the small radio in the corner of your room.

You complete the ensemble with a neat high ponytail and bow, right on time for—something brushes against your wings… for the second time today. You whip around catching sight of movement at the corner of your vision but when you turn to that specific spot, nothing’s there.

That has been happening often lately; things you set in one place appeared in another, a formless brush or touch here and there - you chalked it all up to stress. Because what else could it be?

Your phone rings, it’s Jo: 

[ They're here. ] 

--------------

This second trip to the Tower is quiet, unlike the first—filled with Jo’s chatter and your own laughter. The only similarity is the knot forming at the base of your stomach, and well - the fact that a limo was sent for you. Jo must feel just as nervous (which is funny because this was his suggestion to begin with). His knee bounces up and down until you place a hand over it.

“Just this one thing, Jo, and then we’ll be set.” He searches your eyes for further reassurance which apparently you’re good at faking because he nods and sits up straighter. 

Much of your arrival was a blur. Somehow your first impromptu TV appearance was much easier, probably because your identity was hidden by a costume. Now though, you’re very much the face of your business, of something directly connected to you. Everyone was unexpectedly much more pleasant this time around too, so there’s that (maybe this production was just managed differently?). The couple of pies you brought, the most popular - as requested, were taken for set up, so you didn’t even have to worry about that either. Instead you were sat in a beautifully decorated lounge, where one of the producers came in for a short debrief. You were instructed where to stand, what to expect and did you want something to drink or perhaps a snack while you waited, hon? 

Yeah, much nicer. 

Regardless, you declined all offerings - unable to eat with how worked up your were but soon came the call came: “Apothecary Pies?” Both Jo and you look up. “You’re up.” 

…

“And I am telling you, babe, these had us scrambling to find their origins!” High pitched laughter can be heard even from the backset. “But wonder no longer, Yaz, we finally got a hold of them. Please welcome this week's Rising Entrepreneur; Nuria from Apothecary Pies!” 

Both of you walk into the brightly lit set. The audience, composed of sinners of all kinds and sizes enthusiastically clapping as prompted. You wave, vision adjusting to the light as you greet them, then come to stand in between the four hosts as instructed. Your pies have already been plated before for them. 

“My, aren’t you a pretty one?” The host with green flame for hair teases.

You smile, “Thank you. I love the hair too." You return the compliment. "And thank you for the invitation as well. Jo, my assistant," A hand on his shoulder, "and I were really looking forward to this.”

“Oh, but of course! It’s always exciting to see new talent in Pentagram CIty, you never know when someone will surprise you next!” One of the hosts, this one with bug-like antennae, chirps in. 

“So! Mysterious pie baker, tell us a little about yourself and how you set up such a thriving business so quickly, not an easy feat!” The one with triple stacked eyes asks. “As I understand, you’re a fairly recent arrival.”

Okay, so they did their research. “Ah, about myself… well let’s see, I can tell you that owning a business is a complete 1st to me!” You keep it cute and simple. “As to how I made my business grow, I suppose it’s a bit of everything; luck, hard work and careful planning. Though luck was a big factor for sure, at least it was in my case, I can’t lie.” 

“We do love the honestyyy,” one of them pipes up. “And that totally makes sense too, considering rumor has it that you used to perform in one of the… less reputable establishments downtown. What was the name? The Feisty Minx?” 

Wait, did these fuckers run an entire background check on you? Their shit-eating grins confirm it, they're needling for a reaction. This was at its core a gossip show, after all.

“You guys are well informed as expected!” A smile to play off your slowly-building annoyance. “Yes, I certainly did in the beginning,” you nod without missing a beat, “for a short time. And you know I'm actually kind of happy to have done that—it helped build character as you would not believe the kinds of people frequenting the place, We had several from VoxTek in fact!” That was a bluff but by the shifty glances from the crew you weren’t too far off.

An intrigued ‘Ohh’ comes from the audience.

“But I mean, everyone has a past, right? Otherwise we wouldn’t be down here in the first place.” You shrug and even chuckle a bit.

“That’s right, sister, he who is without sin and all that.” The fiery-hair demon comments. “But why don’t you perform for us, girl! We’d love to see your more exotic talents!”

They're really not taking you seriously. Another good-natured laugh, don't let them get under your skin...

“I’m afraid I’m not here for that today. I’d have to charge y’all and I’m not cheap~!” You wink at them, “But do let me tell you about my other talent— Baking!” then turn to the camera to start your usual pie spiel before they can get a word in; going on about how the pies are made, the ingredients, how they're carefully selected and wouldn’t you all like to have a taste of Earth? A taste of home? Jo chimes in to give the location, hours, and prices finishing right before one of the hosts announces a commercial break, signaling the end of the segment. You both wave goodbye, bright friendly smiles and all still in place.

“And cut!” The Producer announces.

The entire room goes silent.

“Kitten has a bite.” Fiery hair purrs. 

Your smile remains. “Thank you for the opportunity. Enjoy the pies.” Is your only reply tapping Jo’s shoulder, “C’mon let’s go.” 

Bug-girl encircles Jo’s arm. “Not so fast, babe. What’s the hurry?” 

What.

“Miss Nuria?” A corpulent figure emerges from a dark corner of the set, it's the same shark demon who visited you at the shop with the invitation. The unnatural smile gone from his sharp maw. “Accompany me please.”

To think he had been there this entire time.

“It never is just the one thing with you people, is it?” You glare, internally cursing at yourself for being so easily led. “Let Jo go first. Whatever you want, it's clearly only from me.”

“Relax, nothing will happen to you or your imp.” The suit says, “He just has to stay put while you and I go for a little walk. He’ll be in good company. RIght, girls?”

The hags giggle in unison encircling him with their arms.

Surrounded by a fully staffed studio, no one moves or dares make a sound. You might as well be alone in a seedy alley about to meet an ugly gory end. You sniff, feigning s nonchalant gesture, eyes never leaving the other's. This entire situation is almost a repeat of last time with Myrna, only now something more sinister lurks underneath.

“Jo, I’ll be back.” You murmur softly.

He nods, still wrapped in long spidery arms. Neither him nor you having much of a choice.

-------------------------

Nothing is said between you, walking through winding sleek halls, passing here and there a handful of employees. All glance at you and the suit before quickly averting their curious gaze away. 

“So who’s your weirdo of a boss?” You ask, might as well get in a few licks too. "Some perv big wig?"

“Oh he’s no weirdo.” He chuckles, “And you’ve met him before. He's the biggest wig of them all around here.” As he says that, an employee in a red jacket steps outside one of the hallway doors. Red square glasses frame a set of mismatched eyes.

“Here she is.” The suit says, and then to you, "Good luck."

You flip him off, he looks pissed but the other demon clears his throat interrupting whatever he was about to say. “Please, this way.” He says directing himself to you. 

You take an elevator, going up, up, several floors. Awkward silence fills the air - you almost wish for the sarcastic friendless banter of the suit even if this new lackey looked far less intimidating. “Is this thing taking us to heaven or what?” You attempt a poor joke to break the uncomfortable silence.

“N-no. I don't believe that's possible, Miss.” He answers, he's not much for jokes it seems.

Soon you reach one of the upper floors - a soft ding announcing your arrival. Your footsteps echo in the nearly deserted floor, hues of blue and red light emanate from several screens guiding your way to the end of a long hall where two metal doors adorned with sharp crimson ‘V’ open and you’re motioned inside.

—-------------------

Several screens hang from thick wiring connected to the ceiling, all display different angles of the building, other parts of town and - look, the show you were just on. Behind them, a wall-to-wall aquarium houses predatory eel-like creatures you weren’t even sure existed in hell. However, you didn't dwell much on them as the cool light drew your attention to the awaiting form at the back of the room. The shape of his head is like the rest of the screens overhead. And your heart sinks.

“But if it isn't my beautiful Nuria!”  The VoxTek CEO greets. His long legs sway like pendulums as he uncrosses them to stand at the end of the large conference room you were ushered into.

“¡Otra vez este wey— !” You quickly cover your mouth to keep the expletive from spilling forth.

He merely chuckles at that. “You look lovely too, doll. But please, come… come and have a drink with me.” He says pouring two glasses of wine over the large conference table. You’re too upset to notice the unsteadiness of his movements, or the many bottles already littering the table's surface.

“It was you… ” You breathe, pointing an accusatory finger at him, good manners be damned.

“Why so surprised? Of course it was me! You did great by the way!” He compliments coming closer to offer you one of the glasses. “Handled them like a champ!”

Should you thank him then? Is that why you’re here now? He wants you to thank him? But you didn’t ask him to do all of this. 

“Don’t be so tense, Nuria. I only wanted to have a little chat.” He insists with the wine, you take it without intending to drink from it. The chair closest to you pulls away from the table controlled by an automatic gesture of his hospitality. “Please, have a seat.”

You do not.

“Pardon my rudeness, sir, but what could we possibly talk about?” You're doing an excellent job at keeping your tone even.

He looks at you for a brief moment before he sighs in defeat. “Look, I admit sending out a big scary goon for you might not have been the best course of action, but be honest, doll—would you have come if I had personally asked?” He concedes, and the source of your apprehension when the invitation to appear on TV was extended to you finally reveals itself.

“No.” Is your dry reply.

“See?” He shrugs, downing the glass in one go, it’s only then that you take note of the bottles and wonder how long he's been at it and should you be more worried?

“But, sir,” You insist still, setting your wine down. “We have nothing in common, I have nothing you could possibly want or be interested in, while you… well, you have everything.”

“That’s where you’d be wrong, doll.” He sighs again, shoulders slumping.  

Oh please… 

He goes for another glass, but this time he pours himself something that looks far stronger.

Your eyes survey the room then, looking for other exits only to be disappointed when you find none. You bite inside of your lip reflecting on your current predicament until the glowing creatures inside aquarium draw your gaze once more. They move in hypnotizing patterns, careless of the misery around them - it wouldn’t surprise you to find they’re actually artificial. Fakes.

“You see… Alastor... " Alastor? "and I… we used to be good friends... once upon a time. Or at least I thought we were.”

You do recall people making a big fuss about the Radio Demon’s reemergence and his consequent public feud with the CEO a few months back. But as far as you were concerned, Overlord rivalries and alliances came and went, all that mattered to you was that your business wasn’t affected. So you paid it no mind.

“But he W̵͖̺̕R̸̫̰̝̀̐͌O̶͍͖͕̒͆N̷͓͈̪̆̒G̶̹͖͍̀͂̔͌E̷͉̲͐̓̕D̵̹̗͂̉̆ ̸̱̪͇̘̑̊M̵̛̭͕̀͒̈Ĕ̶̡̻̆ͅ!̴̢̙̻̿” 

A fist slams over the table's surface, electric sparks fly as the pixels on his screen glitch out of focus. Your heartrate spikes as you step back falling over the offered chair from before. 

“And I saw you with him.” He accuses with the tone of man betrayed.

He’s very drunk, it's obvious to you now. So you must navigate this carefully, you swallow before answering carefully. “Yes… I’ve spoken to him but only for business. I don’t know him personally.” you wet your lips to continue, softening your voice further. “Regardless… I’m sorry that happened to you. Losing a dear friend can be just as tough as losing a partner.“ 

He stills for a second, leaning against the table for support. “Finally!! Some sympathy for this poor sinner!“ He exclaims lumbering closer to you, his imposing form makes for a terrifyingly familiar sight. You fight the urge not to flinch when the claws of his fingers brush the scarf around your neck. “Oh Nuria, you have no idea how much grief he’s caused me.” His expression pained as he places both of his hands over the armrests of your chair, caging you inside. “That’s all I ask for - understanding… ” The iris in his left eye spins outward; reaching the electric neon framing the bright red sclera of his vision. “Some comfort… ”

The implied meaning behind his words is not lost on you, on instinct your eyes avert to avoid the intensity of his stare, your nerves already on high alert. “I'm afraid I'm not the right person for that, sir... I’m only a baker.” 

He watches you closely, the crisp image of his eyes searching before a disarming smile plays over the screen of his face. “Oh Nuria, no. I merely seek to warn you… ” He straightens, and air returns to your lungs once again.

“Warn... me? Of what. Alastor, sir?” You ask since this whole thing seems to have been all about him. “I'm sorry, but he’s nothing but a gentleman to me."

“That’s how he tricks you!” The grasp on your chin takes you by surprise. “His wicked tongue rivals Lucifer’s very own!! He fooled me, lulling me into a sense of security— ” His voice breaks for a split second before taking on a more sinister tone. “... until his true nature spilled forth! Listen to me, Nuria, you could end up nothing but a pawn in one of his sadistic games, it almost happened to me. A little thing like you? Doesn’t even stand a chance… ” 

“But aren’t you the same?” You ask without thinking, because aren’t all Overlords the same for that matter?

He lets go. 

The pressure of his presence dissipates as he stumbles away, barely supporting himself over the table’s surface. “̵̗͆T̵̞͌ḧ̴̳́ë̶̞́ ̵̩̒s̵̼̕a̷̧̎m̵̳̈ę̷̔?̴̧̔” His voice indignant, “He and I are not the same! I care about people. I bring joy to the millions of condemned souls in this pathetic existence! I offer an escape to suffering! He and I are not the same!!” He takes one the bottles from the table - flings to the wall - shattering it into countless pieces upon impact. “What else has he done but worsened it?! TELL ME” 

Now you’ve stepped in it. You stand, palms up, voice docile and shaky—that part, at least, was genuine.

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry, I apologize and... th-thank you for the warning, that was very kind of you, Mr. Vox." You dare not move as you watch him collect himself which takes some time, after which, and against all better judgement - you approach. "Now, please sit down. I don’t want you falling and hurting yourself” Because you don't want to think of the consequences that will have for you, so you return the favor of pulling a chair from behind him. “Here, sir, sit.” Surprisingly, he goes down without a fight when you pull him to it. The chair creaks bearing his full weight. “Jeez, how much did you drink?”

“Don't... know," He slurs. "You’re so caring, Nuria… ” His unsteady hand manages to grasp your wrist and you pause all movement. “Stay. No one in this godforsaken place cares or appreciates me.” He mumbles, eyes finally closing.

“I’m afraid I can’t.” Your voice barely above a whisper, “Got my shop to take care of, remember?” 

“Oh… Right, right… ” His replies, screen entering rest mode per the loading spinning icon. You would find this funny - cute even in other circumstances - but now you must take this chance to gently free yourself from him.

Quietly, you walk backwards as he snoozes over the conference chair, his head tilted against the headrest. The short distance to the only exit seems eternal, but are thankful to find the sliding doors hadn’t been locked. They make no sound opening and shutting as soon as you step out. 

...

“Not bad for a former bar whore, ‘suppose you had a lot of experience dealing with drunks.” 

Behind you, opposite from the conference room, stands a woman.

She's petite and doesn't even bother meeting your eyes after the casually flung insult. Instead she chews gum tapping away at her phone - the latest VoxTek model (Jo wouldn't shut up about it). Her bright tri-colored hair is tied into two spacebuns: Velvette, she's Velvette - the woman the suit mentioned last week.

“I was a performer, not a sex worker.” You correct.

She shrugs, popping a gum bubble. “Same thing.”

You bite your inner lip, measuring your reply. “He passed out in there. Maybe someone should check on him?” Her eyes meet yours then. “Am I free to go?”

“You know when he came to me babbling about some hidden-talent with a nice ass he discovered, I thought ‘Oh good, finally some distraction from his insufferable hissy fit with Val. I wonder who it is.’ And then he said, it was a baker and I laughed because I thought he was joking but then he said ‘she’s friends with Al,’ and I thought ‘Well that makes more sense, I want to meet the broad myself now.’” She looks you up and down. “Have to say, those homely clothes? You’re not fooling anyone.” 

Oh you did not like her. At all. Your hands flop to your sides.  “Well now you’ve met me. And don’t worry I have no interest in meeting with Mr. Vox again. Can I go now?” 

“Funny because I don’t think what you want matters here.” Your brows furrow. What is she saying? “So I just came to clear up the air. In case you get any funny ideas between those pretty horns of yours.” She’s too quick for you to dodge her reach, grabbing a fistful of your hair to yank you closer to her. Your neck twists in a painful angle in a fight to keep yourself from hitting the floor. “Vox, in his lonely lunacy, believes you could be useful but I have no qualms about making sure you roast nice and crispy inside your little shop’s oven if you do anything to undermine the Vees. So act stupid and I will immediately know about it. Understand?” 

“Let go, you— “ 

She pulls harder. “Careful now.”

You want nothing more than to claw her eyes out but self-preservation wins over. “I have more important things to do with my time.”

“Good, keep it that way.” 

But you can’t keep a bitter chuckle from rising up your chest.

“Care to share the joke, doll?” She asks.

“I just… " You snort between grit teeth, "I just find it funny that you— people care so much about a meager sinner like myself, because what? Because I made friends with the Radio Demon? I mean, he must have done a really nasty number on your friend if you're this invested.” 

Her eyes narrow, “What would you know, stupid thot. But laugh it up, we’ll wipe that smirk off your face soon enough.” You spot the entrance through which you came but before you can think to free yourself from her, she squishes herself face against yours. Her phone already on selfie mode, it displays a friendly smile you wouldn’t believe she was capable of. “Be cute now.” She warns between grinning teeth, her hold on you tightens hidden in the fullness of your hair. 

You oblige with a sweet smile; anything to get yourself out of here. Fast. Thankfully, she releases you as soon as the image is captured, her attention returning to the phone like nothing happened.

“Now you can go.” 

……….

A small package is delivered to the shop two days later. The beautifully wrapped box contains a rose gold plaque reading:

[ VELVETTE’S #1 PICK IN EAST PENTAGRAM CITY ]

You toss the entire thing to the trash, Jo looks on worried but asks no questions.

Have some Nuria art!

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“Extermination Day is canceled!”

It’s the first thing you hear emerging from the cellar under the apartment building where you and other sinners hunkered down on Exterminations Day since your arrival to Hell two years ago.

“What?” You ask, processing the news.

Your neighbors are just as confused coming up behind you. Mr. Marion, an amphibian demon stops someone passing by to ask what’s going on.

“Extermination Day is canceled, Lucifer’s daughter kicked angelic ass! They flew back to heaven with their tales between their legs!!”

Oh. Really?

Though the lack of carnage on the street seems to confirm that. Still, you walk over to the electronic store around the block to be sure and...

News666 is providing special coverage of what took place while you and your neighbor’s took cover. A growing group of demons already gathers in front of the screens featuring Carly or Harley defending her Hotel against hordes of angels. That’s, wow, that’s quite amazing. The scene then cuts to a static image of the Radio Demon doing not so well against one of the more powerful looking angels, Katie talks about that for a bit before the coverage is switched to a tiny one eyed demon. The crowd chuckles and awws as she fumbles through her interview. After getting the general gist of the current situation you hurry over to check on the shop, more immediately concerned about that than the power vacuum left the news anchors kept going on about. You hope your business was left intact, unlike last year.

Jo, is already waiting at the front of the shop leaning against the delivery van.

“Guess that deal with the cannibals is really working out, huh?” The imp says, pointing a thumb toward the store which was, in fact, left intact.

You chuckle, “Guess so. Glad you’re okay Jo.” You answer and proceed to mess his pale locks. “And how many times have I told it's not a 'deal'?"

"Hey!" He swats your hand away.

"Seems like little Ms. Morningstar saved our butts this time too, so double the win.”

"Oh man, yeah she was so badass!"

“Are you guys open today?” A mummified demon girl asks, interrupting your convo. There's more people behind her. You suppose now that they won’t be immediately double killed, people are really eager to celebrate.

You quirk an eyebrow at Jo. “You up for it, kid?”

“I don’t know, last time we took the day off after an Extermination… ” He says, inspecting his claws.

“I’ll pay you double.”

“Let me just park the van in the back.”

Great! You turn to your loyal customers. “Give us a few minutes, we should be opening soon!”

That day’s earnings were record high. You think to pay Rosie a visit to thank her for the Pie Shop’s promised protection once the dust settles and her cannibals regroup.

—------

Sometimes it surprised you to think that life in Hell was not as bad as it used to be when you first arrived. You just had to adapt.

So adapt you did. 'Stay calm, but observant and sharp' your grandmother used to say. Advice you never took too seriously in life but here, things were different.

But also the same.

A strict class hierarchy existed, with Overlords and Royalty at the very top and the rest left to suffer or get by as best they could and of course this life was meant to suck, but still… some people truly weren't that bad.

There are some demons who won’t attack or take advantage of you—not right away, at least and that meant something when this was meant to be the end of the road for everyone here. Others kept to themselves, appearing to get by just fine for the most part. You were one of those, and it had worked out for you so far. Even got a little lucky, got your business going and everything without having to step on any necks!

At night, you sometimes wondered if things could have been different in life, had you made different choices.

Been less stupid.

But what’s the use of regret, all that remains before you is the present and the hellfire of eternity before you. Harlot’s or whatever her name is was definitely delusional, it’s what you thought when news of her Hotel spread. It’s what you still think even now after its Grand Reopening.

________________________________

After the fanfare came and went, things in hell more or less remained the same, at least on the surface, but a peculiar air of uncertainty and edge remained. Even the Turf War that usually ensued Extermination Day ended swiftly with most territories staying with the same boundaries from the days before.

That was his assessment when walking around in Pentagram CIty for the first time since. The tense corners of his mouth like sharp daggers still pointed upward, even with the slowly healing wound on his torso.

Yet Alastor was pleased to learn his reputation remained mostly intact despite the… unfortunate outcome of his encounter with Adam. After all, not many could claim survival against the leader of the Exorcists. And if there were any doubts of his abilities, at least other demons were smart enough not to voice them directly to his face. The same vermin from before still showed him the same respect, the day they stopped doing that will be the day he'll worry.

His thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sight of a line going around the corner.

Oh, This is new. It had been a while since he strolled through this part of the city.

Humming to himself he followed it, thinking it might be a new entertainment club or something equally—but then a sweet savory smell hit him.

It was a Pie Shop of all things!

"Apothecary Pie Shop" The sign read. Oh what a curious name for a business that was.

His back straightens, twirling his mic propmting the crowd make way but before he can set foot on the shop’s stairs, a male imp bursts out shouting at the top of his lungs:

“Folks, we’re all out of pies!” The people already gathered curse at him, some even throw trash at the poor soul. “Oh fuck you too—!” He says dodging an empty glass bottle before his eyes finally land on Alastor. “Oh shiiit!”

“Why hello there!” He greets, “I was just strolling around the neighborhood when I came upon your fine establishment. I had never seen it before so I thought I would take a look. Seems I was a bit late though.”

“No, no… I think we might still have some p-pies left for you… S-sir.” The poor imp fumbles with the doorknob behind him, hastily trying to get back inside. His display of deference puts Alastor in a magnanimous mood.

“Oh that’s quite alright, young man. No need, I’ll just be sure to stop by some other time. Bye now!” He says waving as he continues on his way.

Good to know some businesses still know how to provide good service even in Hell!

_____________________________________

Going to Cannibal Town always makes you nervous, well aware you are one of the few allowed to come and leave in one piece as promised by Rosie herself. Jo had offered to come with you, but you decided it would be best if he didn’t. Still the hungry stares you got only made you grip the van’s steering wheel tighter. The town reminded you of the suburb you moved into the last year you were alive, all order and niceties hiding something dark underneath.

Pulling up, you take out the pies as quickly as possible, in-and-out is what you aim for. You’re halfway up the path to her shop when Rosie spots you pushing the loaded utility cart.

“Oh, but if it isn't Nuria!” She calls from the porch where she's having afternoon tea with fellow company.

You wave, doing your best to show a genuine smile. “Mrs. Rosie! How do you do this hellish afternoon?”

She excuses herself from the table to come closer, her white serrated teeth framed by black lips tilt upward in a radiant smile. “Very happy to see you safe and sound after everything that has occurred, my dear!”

Your perfect opening, “Well, we have your people to thank for that, they were all over the News. Very brave and heroic.”

“Thank you for saying so, dear. They are a sturdy bunch for sure, though I must admit we did incur losses.” She says, procuring a fan to dry the tears at the corners of her eyes. "I'm just happy their sacrifice was not in vain."

And now you feel awful for bringing it up at all. “I- I’m sorry, I didn't… What I mean to say is that I came because I wanted to thank you for my shop as well.” You rush, motioning to the cart full of packaged pies. “These don’t have your preferred filling, but I hope everyone likes them all the same.”

“Aren’t you precious, Nuria, you didn’t have to go through the trouble. After all, it’s all part of the contract!” She answers, placing one slender cold hand on your shoulder. You try not to shiver.

And yeah, it was part of the contact but still. “I truly had to, Mrs. Rosie, I am eternally grateful to you for taking a chance on me.”

“Look at you,” a hand to her chest, “you sure know how to give a gal good lip service. Won’t you stay for tea? An old friend will be stopping by soon, he’s a riot! Such an entertaining character that he is! Theo, dear, would you kindly take these inside?” She wraps an arm around your shoulders already pulling you toward the porch and that’s when you have to tap out.

“I really can’t, Mrs. Rosie.” You twirl around taking the hand on your shoulders into yours as if you were about to deliver devastating news to show how terribly sorry you were. “I have to get going. We have to prep for tomorrow, a big day awaits us!”

You weren’t lying about that at least.

“Oh alright, I understand, you’re a busy woman and all.” She relents.

“Thank you, Mrs. Rosie. And should we be expecting a new shipment of ingredients for your custom orders soon?”

“Absolutely!” She winks and lets you be on your way.

You're packaging the last bit of the pies into neat little boxes. These are smaller than the regular size you sell at the shop, they were a pain to cut but the buyer did offer to pay extra for the commission and well, how could you say no to that? They ordered every kind you had too, including the herb and cheese ones - had to pay Kory, the local smuggling succubus, extra to get the three different kinds of cheeses you needed.

The water with the devilfoot root comes to a boil, you hurry over to take it off the stove before the root disintegrates making the whole thing undrinkable. Pouring it on a separate container to sift the bits that did come off, you then add the crimson scarab from the jar of crimson scarabs Jo catches for you—and that should do it: Your very own calming remedy!

You close the old almanac gifted to you, placing it back into your tote bag to close shop too. Jo was long gone for to rest as instructed to be up for an early start tomorrow. 

Covering yourself with your old worn shawl, you adjust your tote bag underneath to brave the elements for the short trip back home. This part of the city was usually quiet compared to others, but you could never be too careful. The dagger in your bag is always accessible if you needed it—and you had needed it before. 

As you walk you’re already thinking of tomorrow, of the financial possibilities if the buyer likes the pies and they ask you to keep coming back. You might be able to reach your goal sooner than you think and though you know you shouldn't get too excited, a glimmer of hope still shines within you.

Your steps feel that much lighter over the filthy city concrete below.

------------------------

You hold on as Jo makes a sharp turn. “Are you sure you don’t want some of my tea? You seem nervous.” 

“Nah, I’m good.” He replies. You know he's a bit of road demon but today he seems more on edge, he’s also way more chatty than usual. “So anyway, I told her she needed to get real for once and… “

You take a big gulp from your thermo letting him talk through his nervousness as VoxTek Tower comes closer. It was visible from the third floor of your apartment complex and it always seemed like such a distant aspect of life here in Pentagram City, so inconsequential to your own afterlife—but up front? You can literally feel the corporate presence sucking away your soul.

You’re directed towards the back once you pull up, and are given directions to the studio coordinator who made the order. 

There’s chaos all around you when you pull up, huge props and costumes wheeled to and from. Groups of technicians with lights and camera in tow. People with phones and clipboards shouting orders. Your van and cart of pies oddly fit right along the organized mayhem. 

“This is kinda cool.” Jo says hauling down one of the carts. 

“Right?”

Both of you do your best to avoid running into anyone on your way to the elevators, which are thankfully big enough to accommodate the carts.

The 13th floor is just as busy as the ground floor, maybe even more. You attempt to follow the sign that reads: SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE WITH FYTOR when a horde of demons rushes past you. 

“He’s here!” “Shit, do we have everything ready?” “If anything goes wrong, I … !” 

Jo glances at you and you shrug until you see him.

Vox, the CEO and owner of the VoxTek Enterprise.

He made sure his image was unavoidable if you resided in any part of the Pride Ring, more so than any of the other Overlords if you were one to keep up to date. 

“Wow.” Jo says.

And he’s right, the Overlord has so much more presence in person, towering over those crowding him.

“Woah there, no pictures, no pictures.” He says while fixing his coat, all long limbs and charisma. “I’m here on business, my valuable employees.” 

“And so are we.” You remind Jo, who continues to gawk at the Overlord.

“I’ve seen two Overlords in less than a month, it must be a sign or something, Nuria.” He says, glancing back.

“I hope it's a sign for wealth.” You reply.

Soon you’re at the back of the set, speaking with Myrna, the bizarre horse-snake chimera mix. “This all of them?” She asks with the same thick southern accent you heard on the phone.

“Yes, ma’am, all hundred of them.” You answer. Jo is ready with receipt and pen. “Now if you could sign here just to verify our delivery.” 

She ignores you as she grabs one of the pies, taking it out of its tiny box eating it all in one bite. You and Jo look at each other, unsure now if you’ll be paid. This wouldn’t be your first time, not because of the quality of the pies but because it was Hell and people were generally assholes, specially when it came to paying up sometimes.

“Oh Goodness Gracious!” She finally says, turning around to sign your form and grabbing another pie from the cart. You breathe easy again. “Set them over there, sugar.”

“A pleasure to do business with you!” You offer a smile and a handshake. “We hope we can continue catering your events!” 

“Of course!” She responds already walking away ignoring your hand. You sigh, so much for networking. 

You get busy anyway, moving some things around in the already lavish snack table to make room for your delivery Upon seeing who was visiting, the elaborate set up made sense. “I think we’re going to need another table.” You finally admit defeat after playing tray tetris, some stuff looked too expensive to touch.

“Let me see if I can find someone.” Jo offers.

And you’re left there to wait while he does that, that's what you liked about Jo an observant self-starter, you should look into increasing his pay soon. You're thinking that watching the crew work, it really does take a lot of manpower to get production on air. You kind of wish you had been invited to the ‘Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister So What?’ Set instead. It was your guilty pleasure, putting it on as background noise while you worked on the pies for the following day. Maybe you’ll get lucky and see one of the actors on your way out. 

“Homemade pie?! It’s been decades!” A crisp male voice says from behind. 

Great, a potential customer! “Oh, our shop has been op— “ It’s Vox, the very CEO you saw on the halls before. He's leaning over the table taking in the smell.

“Are you the owner?” He asks sizing you up, his eyes going from your horns, face, body and finally settling on the wings at your hips. He quirks a brow at the sight, you hide them further back, a knee jerk reflex whenever people looked at them too long. You hated them.

“I sure am, sir. A pleasure to meet you.” You extend a hand out before he comments on the wings.

He takes your hand, doing a little bow to meet your eyes. “Well I do love a woman that can cook!” You do your best to keep the frown off your face. But aside from that, it was truly impressive to see the Overlord up-close. The light from his screen engulfs you in the low light of the set as his upper body tilts closer and you have to squint to keep the light from hurting your vision. “One so pretty as well. Are you one of the guests. What do you go by, doll?” 

“You’re too kind, sir. Nuria is the name. And no, sir, we're just here for delivery.”

“Vox, Sir! We were looking all over for you. The producer is eager to meet you.” A crew member emerges from one of the curtains. “Follow me, please.” They urge.

“Of course, of course. My apologies.” He answers, brilliant smile back on. “But I hope to see you around, Nuria.” He says letting go of your hand with a wink and a light sting of electricity from his body to the underside of your wrist. Your hand pulls back startled, he chuckles as he struts away.

Jerk, you murmur under your breath.

Jo comes back a few moments later dragging a large folding table borrowed from somewhere. 

“Let me give you a hand!”

You finish fairly quickly after that, when Myrna comes back again, taking the last bite of her second pie and seemingly ready for a third one. “You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.”

“Really?” Jo chirps. And you don’t have the heart to say no, your wrist still tingling from her boss' "greeting."

You’re herded to a corner though, where several screens show different angles of the set. One screen dictates what’s to happen at which times intervals during the show. One segment draws your attention. Special Guests, it reads, the name of the performing musical group - and then a live performance of a song you immediately recognize.

Sudden screaming from one of the hallways leading to another part of the studio has you and Jo glancing around. There’s the sound of slamming doors and objects being thrown around followed by a string of swears accompanied by several footsteps running towards the source of the screams.

“What the fuck is going on now?!” Myrna screams into her headset as she follows the chaos.

“Maybe it’s time we skedaddle?” Jo suggests scratching his cheek in mild concern.

But now it’s you who doesn’t want to leave. “We’ll be fine, Jo, besides I really want to see this.” You point to the screen. “Mamá Tozi, my grandmother, used to play this song all the time when I was little. It’s an oldie but a goodie, didn’t expect to see it here of all places.” You explain. “Want me to teach you how to dance cumbia?” 

“No?“ 

Too late you’re already grabbing his hands, placing them in position. “Let’s see, it goes 1, 2, 3… Nunca es suficiente para mí… ” You step forward, tilting one hip to the side and then to the other. It’s a bit difficult without the actual beat of the song but you manage following your own, “Tan-tan-tan, tan... “ Jo tries his best to follow along. “Porque siempre quiero más de ti. Yo quisiera hacerte más feliz.” And then a hum for the parts there’s no words for. You move his hand while keeping the other in a loose grip so you can do a half twirl and return to position, then motion with your hand for him to do the same. He follows through and you giggle as Jo rolls his eyes but continues to follow along. “Mi corazón estalla por tu amor. ¿Y tú que crees que esto es muy normal? Acostumbrado estás tanto al amor.”

“You know the song?” Myrna asks out of nowhere, you let go of Jo's hands (you hadn't notice when she came back.) “Have you performed before?” She presses.

“No… ” She didn't need to know about your previous stint at the Feisty Minx.

“Well there’s always a first time for everything.” Oh you did not where this was going.

“Turns out the vocalist for our scheduled group is feelin’ a little under the weather t’day, and by that I mean she’s too fucking wasted to even stand up, so we’re gonna need to improvise.” We? Who’s we? “Our CEO is here.” Our?

“Well I do wish you the best of luck and would you look at the time, Jo, we should be driving back soon.” You say looking at the black screen of your phone, then search for Jo’s hand again to get out of there as quickly as possible. But Myrna’s talons snatch your arm first. 

“Hey!” Jo tries to reach for you, but she easily pushes him back with the other hand. 

“You’ll do just as well.” She sneers.

“There’s no way you think I’ll get out there to put on a performance! Are you nuts?!” You drop the professional act, glaring at her instead - trying not to wince in pain, her grip hurts.

“I don’t think - I know you will.” She says, you’re standing on the tip of your toes with the way she continues to hold onto you. “Or there won’t be any payment for the order, AND I’ll make sure to run your little shop’s reputation to the ground. Would that be enough motivation for you?” 

“Oh yeah?” Jo speaks up, “You don’t know who you’re messing with!” Myrna hisses at him as response.

“I want triple the pay for the pies.” You say before Jo says anything else. There’s no need to involve Rosie.

Her eyes narrow. “Whatever.” She says and calls for a dressing room assistant. 

“Nuria, but… “ Jo whispers.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine, and we’ll make a killing on this one.” You smile as Myrna drags you further back. 

__________________________________________________________

He sits right on the front row.

Fights the urge to yawn while waiting for the next section as his employees scamper behind the camera. Someone offers him a second cup of whiskey which he takes without even looking to see who is offering it, he should really try to make an effort to actually engage with them. It was easier to win them over with feigned kindness than by force (though his peers would disagree). Especially now that they had the entire playing field to themselves.

It was the reason why he was there at all. To ensure the 'magic of TV' ran smoothly for captivating quality content. Their plan to monopolize Hell depended on them capturing as much support from the public as possible, by any means necessary. Indeed, with the battle against heaven broadcast he could feel himself growing in influence and power as every wretched sinner tuned in to watch. So strike and improve while the iron is hot was one of his many mottos.

It’s all he thinks as he watches the Host announce the next performer.

The lights dim as the cameras focus on the stage.

The lively melody of a trumpet is followed by the rest of the band’s instruments as flood lights cast over the vocalist at the center of the stage.

A tight sequin dress glimmers with the curve of her swaying hips, her shoulders also moving to the beat of the music.

But then she sings and suddenly it's the most interesting thing he’s seen all week. 

“Oh thank fuck!” Vox overhears one of the producer’s heads loud-whisper to someone on his right. 

“ Y tú te vas jugando a enamorar. Todas las ilusiones vagabundas que se dejan alcanzar.“ Her voice young and smooth in Spanish, he understands very little but knows them to be of a romantic melancholic nature. She spins, grabbing one of the trumpet players to accompany her on her dance and her solo dance from before flourishes with the new companion.

“Who’s that?” He finally asks, curious.

“She’s ah… an up and coming artist.” The producer’s heads answer in unison, then go over his notes to look for her actual name. The CEO watches as the ratings are directly sent to his screen. 

“Oh yeah?” He says taking a swing of his whiskey, liking the data he’s receiving.

“Nunca es suficiente para mí. Porque siempre quiero más de ti.” Her voice rises without losing the harmony in it, the musicians behind her faithfully follow her rhythm, nearing the end of the song. The numbers on Vox’ screen hit are all time high for the month, impressive considering this show’s underperformance in ratings.

“Wowowee!! How do you like them apples?” Fytor, the Host, gestures for a round of applause that goes on for some time. Someone whistles in admiration. “Los Demonios Azules!! Premiering our cultural segment, everyone.” He says for one last round of applause before the cut. 

And just like that, the vocalist who sang with such charm and charisma only moments prior drops the microphone and yanks the colorful fur wrap off her shoulders to throw it on the floor as well. Vox barely catches the moment she also yanks the gloves off her hands, stomping off the stage in a petty tantrum that could rival one of Val’s. 

“Well, looks like your little variety show gets to survives another year!” Vox remarks as he gets up from the chair. Both of the producer’s heads beam at the news. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” He says, adjusting his clothes in place before zapping himself away from the set to the dressing rooms.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re taking off the gaudy and incredibly heavy earrings you were made to wear when a spark of electric blue appears behind you and you get up alarmed holding onto the dresser behind you. “Holy— “

VoxTek’s CEO materializes before you. 

“Greetings, my dear!” He smiles, “I don’t believe we were introduced.” 

The initial shock wears off quickly. “Yes we were!” You tear the humongous blonde wig off your head, then smear part of the makeup off with one hand. 

There is a pause where only the muffled screaming of the neighboring dressing room is audible. The band you performed with was infighting over the close call they had thanks to their drunken vocalist. 

“The pie girl?!” He asks incredulous after a moment before doubling over in laughter as if you just told the funniest joke he'd ever heard. Your fists tighten at your sides.

“Is everything ok in there?” Jo asks knocking at the door. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Be there soon, just taking care of a new fan.” You shout, voice dripping with sarcasm. You’re angry at being made to perform like a little wind up monkey but him laughing over it infuriates you even more. “Your bitch of an employee, Myrna, threatened to withhold my pay for the pies if I didn’t replace the singer.” You struggle to untie the gladiator shoes. How the fuck did they tie these damn shoes on you?! “Your guests suck, by the way.” 

“My sincerest apologies, my dear. I’ll make sure you get paid, money is not an issue.” He says going on knee to undo the knot. You pause, surprised by the gentleness in the sudden action. He takes all the time in the world taking off the shoe, then motions for the other foot placing it over his knee, no minding soiling his very expensive looking trousers.

“Ever thought about a career on television?” His tone is casual as he works.

“No, sir,”  You reply, all anger fizzled out, but quick to take your foot back, “I already have a contract with someone.”

The expression on the screen changes, now intrigued. “Oh? And may I know who the lucky demon is?” Hoping the answer will deter further questions you answer truthfully. 

“Rosie.” 

His screen glitches for a second, distorted static repeats the name. “Ro-rosie? Cannibal Town's Rosie? You don’t say!” 

You immediately sense that might have been the wrong answer, having forgotten the intricate web of relationships Hell’s Overlords maintained - and if his reaction was anything to go by, Rosie might not be someone he particularly cares for, for whatever reason. 

You reach for your clothes inching towards the door with the sequin dress still on, you don’t want to find out what else he might say. Or do over the new information. 

“Yes, sir, now if you’ll excuse me.” 

He slams the door shut when you open it and for a moment prickling fear overtakes you. Shit. You’re too scared to meet his eyes, feel him instead stand very close to you, but then the tie holding your wings together at your back to hide them comes off.

“This one hid from me.” You don’t need to see the cocky smile displayed on his screen as he speaks, “Here’s my assistant’s contact if you ever get tired of making pies, doll.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the offer, sir” You whisper, tone calm despite the lump in your throat, taking the card offered. 

Jo straightens up when the door opens. You school your face into neutrality so as not to freak him out. 

“C’mon, let’s go.” 

Though you’re sure he catches a glimpse of the CEO as the door closes behind you.

________________

You work in silence for the rest of the week, the small tv in the shop’s kitchen remained disconnected, missing several episodes of Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What? Testament of the bad taste the trip to VoxTek Tower left in your mouth. But it was nothing a good bath of crushed roses and herbs couldn’t fix. You had Jo do the bath too to make sure las malas vibras didn’t linger, even if “This is Hell, Nuria, we are all made of bad vibes.”

And before you knew it, Rosie’s new shipment arrived and that occupied your mind instead.

“No heads this time, Theo?”

“Nah, old hag Susan got it in her head that she wanted to start a forever soup business. Rosie would only let ‘er have the heads though.” 

“I see.” Works for you, that was the least favorite part you liked to work with, all that hair and eyeballs… made it hard to pretend it was sinners—not just regular game meat. Some things you don’t think you’ll be able to get used to no matter how many years passed down here.

You worked quickly, more than usual, finding yourself eager to see Rosie. Maybe out of some odd need to feel reassured under her protection. Which is how you found yourself at her place in less than two days.

You’re almost done at the Town’s plaza uneasily distributing the pies, without major incident. They listen, for the most part, Susan giving you a bit of a hard time but Theo was there to reinforce authority where usually Rosie would be the one overseeing the distribution. Today though, you were told, she was entertaining important company.

“Well, that’s the last of them.” You keep one for Rosie. Theo walks you to her place, chatting about the colony’s new found reputation from dangerous bloodthirsty savages to dangerous heroic bloodthirsty savages. 

“I’m sure that’s gotta count for something, Theo.” You nod along as you walk up to Rosie’s.

“Nuria, my precious girl!” Rosie calls out as soon as you enter her place. She’s coming for a hug, you barely have time to move the pie out of the way as she smothers you into her bosom. She seems more cheery than usual. “Come, come. I want you to meet my friend.” She says pulling you along to a table at the back. You don't think much of it this time either - as she's always trying to get you socialize more.

“Alastor, honey, this is Nuria! The girl I told you so much about.” 

Her long fingers wiggle as she motions to the man sitting by the table.

Alastor? Oh but that can't be...

You're frozen, pie in hand as the Radio Demon himself stands, the shadow covering his form dissipating to reveal his tall slender form. 

So this was The Important Company. 

“Charmed!” He smiles, the crackling static of his voice immediately setting you on edge.

Rosie's hand at your back gently pushes you forward to respond.

“Likewise, sir.” You manage, taking his hand in greeting. The handshake is solid and unexpectedly friendly.

"Oh now, Nuria, is okay—he doesn't bite, for the most part!" They both chuckle at the shared joke. You force yourself to chuckle along too.

“I stopped by your pie shop the other day, but it was about to close I’m afraid.” Of course, you heard all about it from Jo.

“Ah y-yes, my assistant did mention it. But please do visit again, we do make a couple of extra pies for special clientele.” You had to, some people didn’t take no for an answer.

“It wasn’t necessary, I was just passing by and the smell got my attention. It worked out for the best, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to try them in such good company.” He motions to Rosie.

“Oh Alastor, there you go again.” She says absolutely smitten. “Let me make us some more tea now that the refreshment is here. I mean the pie, Nuria, don’t fret.” You laugh; ha-ha! Yes, funny.

“Well then,” Clearing your throat you set the pie on the table, “it’s been a pleasure— “

“Aht, aht aht! I know what you’re about to do, dear, and I’m not having it.” Rosie’s hands rest at her hips. “Sit down, you’re a guest today.” 

“Oh but I… “ You shut up when she levels you with a look, not quite threatening yet, but getting there. You have never taken her there. Still, “I can help prepare the tea, I know this great recipe— “

“Sit down.”

You sit on the nearest chair. 

“Be right back~!” She shimmies away to her kitchen.

So you’re left alone with her friend. You knew at the periphery of awareness of the rumors about Rosie and the Radio Demon being close, but you never expected, nor in all honesty wanted, to run into him or any of her acquaintances. In and Out was your tried and proven method of operation. It had kept you safe, figures the one time you decided to stay at the VoxTek Tower you would—

“Lovely weather we’re having today.” His static voice takes you out of your thoughts.

“Hm? Oh yes, quite nice, I mean as nice as it can get.” You answer. 

“My, Rosie was not kidding when she said you were a very new here.” He observes, and you’re not sure how to take that. “How are you finding the new lifestyle?” He asks, tone polite.

What an odd thing to ask, miserable of course - everyone was miserable down here, but you get the feeling he wasn’t looking for honesty as much as just conversation. So you oblige. “Well, all things considered. It’s not too bad I suppose. I haven’t been purged yet so there’s that.” 

“Ah, an optimist, a rare breed. My cat could learn a thing or two from you.” He says crossing his legs.

“Your cat, sir?” 

“Please, call me Alastor, we can’t be that far apart in age when death came to us.” 

True, but calling him solely by his first name felt odd with the way he talked and just his general seniority over you in hell. “Um, what year did you… erm pass? if it’s not too rude to ask of me?”

“1933! And what a year it was.”

Oh wow. “That was during the Great Depression, am I correct? My grandmother was born during that period in history, quite amazing when you stop to think it.” 

“Well I have been called old in nastier ways I suppose,” He laughs, your hand covers your mouth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult.”

“Oh it's quite alright, I was merely messing with you!” He chuckles, “It sounds like your grandmother was very precious to you.” 

“Of course, my grandmother was a very wise woman, though I think most would say that about their mothers.”

“And you would be right, my dear, mothers, grandmothers, matriarchs—all irreplaceable pillars of support in a decent society.” He responds and maybe you were being way too dramatic when Rosie introduced you to him.

“Tea is ready~! I hope both of you are getting along.” Rosie sings-songs with a tray of freshly brewed tea. 

“We’re getting along just fine.” Alastor replies. 

“Good, good.”

You busy yourself with helping Rosie cut the pie, serving two slices, relieved Rosie thought to bring cookies alongside the tea so you would have that instead. 

“I hope it’s to your liking.” You serve Rosie’s guest first as she watches on, pleased.

“I’m sure I will, dear.” He replies. And it’s so strange how different, how normal, he actually is from the rumors on the street. They made him seem almost otherworldly even by hell’s standards. 

“Delicious as always, Nuria.” Rosie exclaims at the first bite. You smile in response. “Go on, Alastor, give it a try.”

He follows suit. “There has yet to be the occasion where you have been wrong, my dear friend. One can still taste the panicked screams.”

Now that made him sound closer to the stories about him. “Thank you, sir.”

“Oh she calls you ‘sir,’ Alastor, isn’t she precious!” She says pinching your cheek. 

“I already said there’s no need. But I do appreciate the good manners.” He replies before taking another bite of the pie. “You know Charlie has been talking about a Grand Re-opening ceremony for the Hotel. I think these tasty treats would do a wonderful addition to the event!” 

You almost choke on your tea.

“My Goodness, you are right!” Rosie’s dark eyes set on you expectantly. “What do you say, Nuria?”

Clearing your throat, you think of the nicest way to refuse. “I’d love to but I think we’ll be taking a break from commissions for a bit.”

“Oh? But didn’t you just get a really big one from VoxTek?”

You cough to clear your throat, oblivious to the way her guest’s eyes narrow at the mention  “Yes, well… “

“Don’t tell me they didn’t pay you!” You can hear Rosie’s mood quickly souring, her demeanor darkening.

“No, no! On the contrary, they paid me thrice as much but—hm. I should, maybe I should start from the beginning.” So you tell them how your little jokey-joke dance forcefully landed you in front of the cameras and consequently with an offer by VoxTek’s CEO himself to work for his company, omitting the specific detail of how the offer was extended to you. “The whole ordeal was very degrading to be completely honest. I’m just thankful Jo and I were able to leave in one piece.”

“Ha! Why this sounds like the plot of a spicy novel!” The Radio Demon chuckles bemused. “A regular girl’s break into stardom by a sudden twist of sheer luck!” Rosie swats at him with her fan when she sees you’re not laughing along this time.

“Alastor, can you not this once?” After glaring at him she turns to you. “That’s terrible, darling! I’m sorry that happened. But do let me know if they ever give you any more trouble.” She says placing a hand over yours.

“Thank you, Rosie.” You already feel better about telling her about the ordeal, all you needed was to feel safe. “I think I got it for now.”

“That’s my girl.” 

“Well rest assured, Nuria, Charlie has far more class than the demons at the Vee tower. I can arrange for a visit if you’d like. I think it would benefit you as Rosie tells me you're saving up to move out of Pentagram City, though I can't imagine why anyone would want live away from such wonderful daily entertainment.” Oh wow, Rosie really did talk a lot about you. “Think of it as helping a friend of a friend.” His face and eyes are all sweet charisma, they look almost genuine. And you wonder if he’s only nice to you due to his friendship with Rosie or because he really is just like that with some people. “The reward could be handsome, she is the Princess of Hell after all, I’m sure you’ll be able to name your price once you charm her.”

Oh boy, the delivery van will be due for maintenance soon too…

“Does she have a date for the re-opening yet, sir?” 

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” Jo asks.

“Hmm, I think I only feel better about it because it’s Rosie’s friend? He seemed nice enough.” You reply, sprinkling flour over the table for the dough you’re working on. The old radio you bought plays a nice melodic tune as you prepare for the next day’s special orders.

“He’s the Radio Demon, Nuria.” He insists.

“I mean, yes he is, but I hear the Princess is really nice too, so.”

He makes a point to walk over to you so you can see the skepticism on his stare while still stirring pie filling, bowl in hand and everything. “I just find it amazing how quickly you flip once money is involved.” 

“C'mon, Jo, it’s not like you’re any different.” You respond.

He pauses his stirring. “Yeah, but I actually have survival instincts." He argues, "You remind me of my uncle, you know. He used to work for the mob in the Greed Ring and guess what? He went missing years ago!” You roll your eyes, concentrating on the dough instead.

Jo refused to come on the agreed upon day, saying he wanted nothing in whatever it was you were getting yourself into. So there you were bright and early at the time and address the Radio De—Alastor gave you. 

Parking right in front of the Hotel, you had to admit the renovations made the place look like a 5 star stay. It stood out against the rest of dilapidated buildings in the surrounding area, and much like the V Tower; Different elements come together to represent a single entity. There was a radio tower at one end (no guessing who that space belonged to) and a red apple at the other.

“Quite the sight, isn’t it?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin. Alastor stands right outside to your van’s window. Your hand goes to your chest to keep your heart from escaping out of your ribcage as his smile widens. 

“H-hi, yes, yes it’s quite beautiful. ‘Morning.” You greet. “Dear Lord, you startled me.”

“My apologies, I tend to have that effect on people.” He opens the door motioning for you. “Please, Charlie is eager to meet you.” 

“Thank you.” You smile, reaching for your purse and the tasting boxes. He snaps one of his fingers and suddenly there’s a tiny shadowy creature taking the boxes from you. No matter how many years pass, you don’t think you’ll ever adjust to these kinds of things being a normal occurrence. He then helps you out of the van. “You're very kind.” 

“Ha! Aren’t you a darling.” He responds amused. You pause only for a moment before linking an arm with his when he offers it, his old manners shining through. You’re starting to see why Rosie likes him so much - ‘a proper gentleman.’

Walking up to the Hotel you take in the view. The landscape is mostly dead as it is in most places of hell but was at least kept neat. You spot some widow’s kisses blooming here and there, so the soil couldn’t be a complete lost cause.

“Do you have many guests staying?” You ask to give yourself an idea of how much work will be involved if things go well in this meeting.

“Hmm, not currently, no. But Charlie is hoping for more soon.” You get the feeling he's not very attached to the Hotel despite also being its Facility Manager.

“I don’t see why people wouldn’t want to book a stay. The renovations are quite nice, aesthetics alone should draw in crowds, if anything.” You are being completely honest about that.

“They’re… acceptable, I suppose.” And there it is again. As if he didn’t have a hand in that either, but for all that you know maybe he didn’t. “Though the staff is wonderful, a very welcoming bunch, you’ll love them!” He concedes.

You sure hope so. You swallow nearing the Hotel’s entrance, your hold unconsciously tightening around his arm.

“Oh there’s nothing to fret, my dear, there’s nothing but good ol’ chums here, mostly.” He says with a bit of flare as the doors to the Hotel open and you step inside. 

It’s just as luxurious inside as it is on the outside, of course it is, you don’t know what you were expecting. The varied crimson hues are heightened with the golden touches here and there. The furniture with elaborate designs looks expensive as all hell and yeah, maybe you could make good business here if—

“Hello, HI! Welcome!” 

A youthful cheery voice greets you. It’s Ms. Morningstar the Princess of Hell herself. You hardly have time to return the greeting as she takes your hand in a very enthusiastic handshake. Her eyes and smile outshine anyone you’ve ever met before. “We are sooo excited to make business with our first vendor.” She gushes with not an ounce of malice in her voice, “Alastor spoke very highly of your pastries.” 

“Thank you, your Royal Highness. A pleasure to meet you.” You reply, finally letting go of Alastor’s arm.

“Charlie is fine.” She waves off the title.

“Hon, we need to see if we even like them first.” Someone says behind her. 

"I'm sure we'll like them, Vaggie." She replies to a girl with long pale hair and sooty skin. "This is Vaggie, she’s our Hotel’s Manager .” She smiles, dragging the other girl by the hand. They must be close. The other girl gives you a once over before extending her hand.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” Her tone is way less cheery than her companion, but is at the very least neutral. “You’re one of Alastor’s little… friends?” 

Oh, whatever idea she has of you must be reset at once. “I just had the honor to make his acquaintance last week, Rosie introduced us.” 

Her brow perks up at that. “Wait, these are not— “

“No, Miss, I wouldn't dare.” You assure her. “Rosie has her own special orders. These are the ones we sell at my shop for the general public.” 

“So these are not people pies?” A girlish voice draws your attention below. A short crimson bob frames a single intense eye. “Are you Alastor’s new soul? Are those wings? You smell good!” The petite girl waves, her eye trained on you with a mixture of curiosity and predatory glee. 

“And this is Nifty, our Cleaning Staff.” Alastor introduces.

Ah. “Hi… Nifty, a pleasure to meet you.” You don’t even dare shake her hand.

“Alright that’s enough of introductions,” Vaggie claps stepping forward, “show us the goods, we still got work to do putting this event together.” Her bossy tones gives her away former (current?) military.

You glance at Alastor who merely chuckles before commenting. “She’s always like that.” 

Ah. 

Charlie guides you to the currently unstaffed bar where the tasting boxes were set. “I wish everyone could be here to give their opinion.” She sighs. 

“Babe, as long as you like them it should be enough.” Vaggie is right about that, you think. “Who knows what time Angel will come back and Husk? At this time of morning? Forget about it.”

“Alright, but maybe Dad wants to come down?” She says procuring her cell phone as you get busy setting up the samples—wait, the King of Hell is staying here too?

“Oh don’t bother His Highness, dear, it’s far too early in the morning.” Alastor says, resting a gentle hand over hers. “And hadn’t he been feeling rather… undisposed lately?” 

“Yeah, but I mean he shouldn’t spend so much time holed up there.“ 

“I can set some aside, if you’d like.” You offer, you weren't so eager to meet him, tense and overwhelmed as you are right now.

She smiles, turning to you, “That would be great, thank you.”

“Of course.” She was a breath of fresh air. It’s ironic the Princess of actual literal Hell turned out to be one of the nicest people you met down here. You hand everyone a plate with the pie samples. “Alright so starting from the right  is our shop’s best seller, it’s darkberry with yumava fruit. I should mention our flour is made with a combination of actual topside flour and wheat from the Wrath Ring. We use organic butter from cattle also from Wrath, its brought up by my shop’s assistant. And the sugar comes from... “ You go on about the ingredients and cooking method, watching as their faces go from skepticism to full enjoyment. “I can make the more savory ones as appetizers as well. Princess, I think these would go great with the event if you’re trying to foster a kind of environment sinners can call home and you know what they say, there’s nothing more comforting than homemade pie!” 

Her brows rise at that; Yup, she’s yours. She sets her fork and plate down, grasps your hands coming inches from your face declaring. “We’ll take 100 of each!” Oh Boy.

“What— Charlie, we don’t even know if that many will show up in the first place!” 

“Because we don’t know Vaggie, we should prepare!” And you can’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm.

“She a funny one.” Alastor comments, having read your mind. 

“Princess, how about we do 10 of each? That would still be plenty.” And more realistic to the numbers of attendees. “I’m sure you’ll have other foods to offer as well.” 

“Okay, yeah, sorry… I’m just kind of nervous, we’ve had a lot of inquiries lately” (‘Five is not a lot,’ the little maid chirps but you pretend not to hear her.) “about the Hotel so I want to make a good impression.” She admits scratching the back of her head and wow, she really does seem to care for this place.

“I understand, Princess, but your friend is right, it be a pity if the food went to waste.” You rest a hand on her shoulder. “But let me write down this really good recipe I know for frazzled nerves in the meantime.” You offer with a smile.

You thank the Princess once more for her business, it has been the smoothest transaction you’ve ever done, half of the commission already paid in advance.

Alastor waits for you, offering his arm again to walk you back to your van.

“She’s great.” You comment,  making your way down the pebbled road leading to the gates.

“That she is, my dear.” He answers, “Nothing like her Father.”

Oh. “Got a beef with the King of Hell?” 

“Hah ha ha!! No, of course not, nothing of the sort...” His frown at odds with his sharp smile. You prod no further as you near your van. “I thought you’d certainly take her initial request for a hundred pies— Oh the hilarity!”

You laugh along with him. “It just didn’t feel right doing that, you know? But maybe it would have been different if she had been a brat.”

He laughs, “Seems like you and I have a lot in common,” and who would have thought? “Well, I’ve delivered you safe and sound to your vehicle, so I’m afraid this is good bye— “

“Wait, Alastor.” You interrupt climbing inside the van, “I have something for you.” You procure a bottle of wine, it’s the kind Rosie said he likes the best. “A thank you gift for everything.” 

He looks from the bottle to you for a brief moment before responding, his head tilting to the side as if deciding how to respond. “Oh My, you shouldn't have!” He says finally bringing the flat of his palm up to refuse. “I cannot accept.”

“Aw, after I went through the trouble?” You shoot him your best hurt puppy dog eyes.

“Hmm.” The soft sound of changing stations comes through the strange filter he emits as his eyes settle on the wine. “Well, who am I to scorn a lady’s thoughtful gift?”

You chuckle, handing him the bottle.

………………….

The next day you stopped by Alicia’s speakeasy to pay the rental for the bakery space, being one of the handful of buildings she owned around the city. Dim cool light welcomes you as you enter, alongside the smell of cheap beer and cigarettes. Goodness knows how you were able to work here every night.

“The usual, Nuria?” Old Vince asks as soon as he sees you take a seat.

“Yes, the usual.” You nod. “Is she busy today?” 

“When is she not, doll. But let me let her know you’re here.” He leaves to get her as soon as he’s done with your drink. You hope Alicia comes quickly. One time you had to wait almost two hours before she remembered you were there. ‘I forgot’ she said, though you’re sure she did it on purpose - never getting over you leaving her employment. You’re gonna be so mad if she makes you do the same, you had some shopping to do today. In the mean time you sit there reviewing your shopping list making sure nothing is missing while you wait. Declining offers for company here and there.

“Hey there, beautiful.” Alicia’s fake affection draws your attention up. Her scaly skin and green eyes glistening in the low ambiance of the bar. Draping dark fins parted to one side to hide the ugly scar at the corner of her mouth.

“Hi Alicia. I’m here to pay rent.” You get to the point, going through your purse to retrieve your wallet.

“Yeah, about that, babe. Rent went up.” 

You have to be kidding. 

“What?! Again?!”

“Yeah, turns out demons from other rings are interested in setting up shop in the city now that we know angels can be handled.” She explains, crossing her arms to inspect her nails.

“Alicia, please don’t do this to me.” This could really affect the rate of your savings, you’re barely making enough of a profit - discounting the debt you have for the equipment, packaging materials, ingredients, electricity, Jo’s wages, the van, and your own personal expenses - your own rent. Why the fuck do you still have to pay rent in hell?!

“I could keep it the same if you came back to perform,” Oh this scummy bitch, “Dezba is long gone, so he can’t tell you what to do anymore!” She snorts mockingly.

“Do not!!” Your voice low as your body moves on its own, jabbing a finger at her chest. “Don't you ever dare bring him up again! Now how much is the increase, you vindictive old bitch!” 

“Twice for that.” She answers, unbothered. 

Fuck!

………………………..

You pour over the budget books back at the pie shop, reviewing receipts and expenses. The careful balancing act that took you months of hardwork and dedication  to get going toppled over by that single one unexpected expense. 

“Relax, Nuria, is not as bad as you’re making it out to be!” Jo tries to console you, hand on your shoulder. “You’re still making enough to cover even the rent increase.”

“But now I can’t save Jo! That’s the issue here! And what happens when the next increase comes? And yeah we’re doing okay right now, but who can say this will always be the case? Will other expenses start increasing too?! When will we ever own a place of our own if— ” 

“Nuria, Nuria! Relax, okay? You still got options, ask Rosie for help.” 

“No, I could never… “  She has been helping you enough, you slump over the table, you want to cry. You know you’re truly in hell when capitalism exists even down here.

Knocking at the front of the bakery pulls you out of your misery, you both look at each other. No deliveries were expected today. Peeking from the corner of the kitchen you spot a tall corpulent figure. You really should invest in a security system, you think in hindsight. You swallow turning one of the lights at the front of the shop.

The light reveals a man dressed in a swanky suit, a manic smile plastered on his face - a poor attempt at friendliness when his shark incarnation speaks to a predatory nature. 

“I told you we should keep at least a gun or two on hand.” Jo whispers.

“You must be Ms. Nuria! May I please come in? I mean no harm, I’m a representative from VoxTek.”

VokTek? You and Jo exchange puzzled glances before you decide to open the door. Jo goes to stand where he kept his studded metal bat for shady situations like this. Not like it could do much if someone with that influence wanted to do something to the shop.

“Yes. How can I help you?”

“Good evening, ma’am. I am here because your lovely pies have been quite a hit at the Network.” Really? That was days ago. “One of our producers would like to extend a warm invitation for you to join us as a special guest for our early morning program, The Vibe!”

Well, this is very unexpected. “I… don’t think I’ve heard of the program before?”

“It’s a talk show, with a focus on celebrity gossip.” Jo supplies.

“Celebrity gossip is such an unpleasant way to put it. The Vibe keeps up with the latest trends, entrepreneurs and entertainers of our time!” The VoxTek representative corrects.

“Then it sounds like my humble pies would be out of place in a show like that.”

“Nonsense, why our very own Velvette gave them her seal of approval.” He flashes his phone with a picture of a very staged-going-for-natural picture of a female demon holding one of your pies, your shop’s box visible right next to her with a caption: Wanted to see what the fuss is about. Gotta say, pie was pretty legit. That was… nice, though why does she look so off-put by it? You don’t get a chance to make more observations as the phone is pulled away and the shark demon extends his hand toward you, “Whaddaya say?” 

“Nuria, if you get on the show we could get more customers and hike up the prices too!” 

"Your imp is right, once in an eternity opportunity!"

“He’s not my imp.” It’s the first thing you clarify. “But I… “ There’s something you don’t like about this, un mal presentimiento, looking at the demon’s hand. But Jo has a point, this one thing could balance the books again. “Alright.” You reply, taking his hand.

He squeezes it hard. His fanged smile doesn't reach his eyes.

“My boss will be delighted, Miss!”