Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alastor had no particular plans in mind when he set out for an afternoon stroll. Not a single cloud was in sight to obscure the blood red sky, the ever-present pentagram shining down upon the streets. People were out in droves today taking advantage of the clear weather, especially since it had been raining nearly nonstop the past few days. Acid rain actually wasn’t the norm in Hell when it came to precipitation, but you’d think otherwise given the previous week. It left everyone with a bit of cabin fever, Alastor included.

So as soon as he felt sure the skies wouldn’t unleash any new flesh-melting downpours, he emerged from his radio station to join the throngs enjoying the freedom. The streets were busier than ever with sinners and hellborns alike taking advantage of the break in the storms. Indeed, today was a beautiful day to get some fresh air: the sky was red, screams echoed everywhere, and the air had the sweet copper tang of blood.

That copper tang had been what made Alastor casually redirect his idle wanderings to cross a street in pursuit of the origin.

Blood usually tinged the air given all the fights that broke out in Hell, copper and iron an ever-present taste whenever one opened their mouth. This time though it was particularly strong, the stench of death permeating the atmosphere more than usual. Whatever caused this wasn’t some mere street fight or brawl, and the nauseous looks sported by some fleeing demons he passed only strengthened that notion.

The scene he stumbled upon more than rewarded his idle curiosity.

Massacre was almost an understatement for the carnage hidden around a corner. Crimson and black swirled together in dark rivers that seeped into the cracks of the pavement, staining everything it touched. Bodies laid strewn all about the street, severed limbs flung all over and viscera paving the sidewalk. The victims easily numbered in the double digits, not that he could count them with how scattered the pieces were. The few survivors were limping or crawling away weakly, and he expected a few of them would die anyway from blood loss soon.

This was not the result of a single hand but a brutal brawl, a savage one even by Hell’s standards. It was quite a gruesome sight, and one that usually would be quite pleasing to him. Carnage of this level was a rare treat to be savored, both figuratively and literally given his tastes. The fact that he was not the cause just made it even more novel!

This time, though, he found his attention drawn to a pop of lavender among the sea of red and black.

There, not far from the edge where he stood, was a little girl poking at one of the bodies.

Alastor tilted his head to one side as he regarded the small child. She almost reminded him of a fawn with how big her eyes looked on her tiny violet face. Her features were closer to a bat though, with big ears and leathery wings on her back rather than her arms, while cloven feet poked out under her plain gray dress. A long tail tipped with silver-edged black feathers swished slowly behind her, unknowingly drawing a trail through the blood pooled behind her.

The most notable thing about her was that she was tiny. Very tiny, smaller than even Niffty, and while some demons were simply small, this one felt young. Her eyes held a childish glint to them, the girl exuding a sort of innocence that even teenagers lacked. While he couldn’t begin to guess at her age, he instinctively knew she was far younger than the usual fare.

This was a child. A genuine child, and likely one new to Hell. How did such a young child become a sinner?

Well, the splattering of blood speckling her lavender fluff and dress gave him some theories. So did the fact that she looked totally unbothered surrounded by dead bodies, a gruesome bit of carnage that had left even some adults sick. She obviously wasn’t the perpetrator, but he could tell she had at least been caught up in the scrap that happened here.

As he studied her she noticed his presence and turned to face him, head tilting to the side as their eyes met. Surprisingly he saw no caution or wariness in her expression as she regarded him, only curiosity and interest. While he didn’t expect to be recognized on sight, usually seeing a grinning demon at the edge of a massacre would make others a little wary.

The stare-off lasted only a few seconds before her gaze flittered down to her hand, drawing his own attention a glowing white shard of metal wrapped in her fingers.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. Any demon who’d been around for a few years could recognize a fragment of angelic steel at a glance, it was hard not to given all the corpses that would litter the streets every year. Identifying it meant the difference between afterlife and a more permanent death. Demons tended to hoard the deadly steel fragments if they found them, Carmilla Carmine even making a business out of salvaging and fashioning them into other weapons.

A child was the last person he’d expect to see with even a small shard like that.  After a moment’s thought her head raised once more towards him and she scurried closer, extending it towards him. Not with the sharp edge pointed to him, but with the blade lying flat against her palms. A silent offering, not unlike a child offering a pretty rock to some adult.

Alastor raised a hand over his heart with a gasp of mock-surprise as he stepped closer. “Oh, what’s this?” he asked, bowing at the waist to be closer to eye level with both arms behind his back. Even folded over at the waist like this he still loomed over the child, forcing her to tilt her head back to an almost painful-looking degree to meet his gaze. He used the hand not holding his microphone to point at the shard, asking, “A gift for little old me?”

The girl bobbed her head in silent affirmation, her expression still childishly blank. His grin softened then, losing its theatrical edge and becoming a bit more playful and sweet. Not quite gentle, Alastor rarely did that, but still kind-looking enough compared to his usual grins to suit gratitude for a gift. “Thank you very much, my dear.”

As he plucked the steel from her palms he could feel the blessed energy radiating from it, not burning or harmful but present. It had obviously been salvaged from a spear, not the entire tip but a good chunk of it. Long-dried blood stained the tip, likely from whatever corpse it had been originally pulled from. Other stains layered atop it looked much brighter and fresher though. So fresh, that some of it smeared across his palm as he rolled it over during his inspection.

His grin widened and sharpened as he regarded those brighter spots of crimson, a new weight added to the massacre before him. How many people had been stabbed with this shard today? How many of these bodies would never heal, their afterlives cut short by a lucky swipe of this blade? There wasn’t too much blood on it, but a quick stab to the heart or slice across the neck would be perfectly lethal.

Even this broken shard, small as it was, would be worth its weight in gold. Alastor had no particular interest in money, nor did he have much interest in its deadly potential. Adding new screams to his personal collection was much more fun and satisfying than permanently silencing them. But who knew when he might find an annoyance that called for some more final solutions?

Inspection finished, he looked back to the child and let his smile ease further into something more genuine. He doubted she even understood just what this shard represented. She had most likely salvaged it from one of the corpses, drawn to it like a pretty stone. “Why, thank you, little missy,” he crooned. “I will be sure to treasure it.”

She smiled at him then, revealing crimson-stained fangs much to his delight. Clearly she hadn’t just found the aftermath but had directly taken part in the scrap. He could respect someone who made use of every tool they had in a fight.

Then her ears twitched and her head snapped to the side, expression alert. Seconds later Alastor heard a distant scream, more desperate and bloodcurdling than the usual fare. Rather than retreat the child scampered in its direction, clearly curious about the noise.

He made no effort to pursue her, just cheerfully waving her off as he slipped the steel fragment into his pocket. A snap had his gloves cleaned of blood, and he brushed off his coat before continuing on his merry way, making sure to sidestep the various guts and viscera spilled upon the road.

His stroll was proving to be very nice so far, a wonderful change of pace after being cooped up indoors for so long.

Children in Hell were something of an enigma. All sinners ceased aging upon falling so one could never be sure of a person’s age just by their appearance, especially with how their bodies were twisted and reshaped by death. Children had this certain air about them that more mature sinners lacked though, something that set them apart from all the other pint-sized demons. It was rare to see a genuine child down here, one could go decades without seeing one.

A child’s experience in Hell tended to sway in two directions.

The first, people would be mostly compelled to leave them be. Even sinners tended to have lines they would never cross, and those who had been to prison in their mortal lives could attest to how often that line was drawn at harming children.

That didn’t mean people would go out of their way to be nice or help any kids they saw. Nor would they hesitate to steal from a child, or backhand them if the child was annoying. This was still Hell after all, you didn’t end up here by being selfless. Children were weak and vulnerable, easy targets for those struggling to survive each day, and the fact they ended up in Hell just proved they weren’t innocent victims. For the most part though, most would leave children alone compared to others.

The other direction, well.

Those same sinners who’d been to prison could attest to the fact that the line did not apply for everyone. Cannibals with a taste for more adolescent meats were one of the more palatable thoughts to flick through minds; the others were better left unstated.

Children could live stressful but largely unbothered existences where they were left to scrounge for survival with no aid, or they could be prime targets for the worst of demons. There was little in-between, and more often than not they got to experience both ends of the spectrum at once. If they got lucky, some demons may take a child in until they got (mentally) older, or at least step in if they saw something particularly unsavory.

Largely children were left to their own devices though, left to scramble every day for survival with little help just like all the other sinners in Hell.

Alastor? He had no particularly strong feelings towards children. He had never been fond of them in life, and he’d hardly developed a soft spot for them in death. Admittedly he would avoid killing them, but he had no qualms getting physical if they were being a brat. Should one happen to cross his path when feeling particularly moody, he also could not guarantee he would show any special mercy.

If he saw something unsavory happening to one—well, that actually had yet to happen. Most demons ceased any activities they were doing in favor of fleeing for their lives upon seeing him.

The strongest feeling he had towards children was simply... curiosity.

As already stated, children were quite rare in Hell. By simple virtue of their short lifespan, not many children would have had the opportunity to commit some deed significant enough to be cast down here for eternity. Those who earned a place here were hardly pictures of innocence; in fact, he always suspected they could be some of the nastiest souls of all. After all, most sinners only gave into their vices or even developed them at all in adulthood. Drugs, sex, alcohol, gambling, murder—most of those desires only appeared when one grew older.

Well, except murder. Plenty of people got that urge young, Alastor could attest to that personally. The opportunity and drive to act on that urge, though, was a different story.

It seemed natural that those who ended up in Hell at a young age had to be particularly twisted in some way. And he found himself wondering, how much further would Hell twist them? Their bodies might never grow but their minds would continue to develop and mature, even if it was at a different pace from humans. How would growing up surrounded by demons and sin impact their development? How would their youth in life impact their mind after death?

Yes, he felt a bit of curiosity towards the youngest sinners of Hell. Just a bit, hardly enough to make him go out of his way to seek them out. Maybe if he got bored enough he might try, but he knew his odds of finding one when the mood actually struck were unlikely given their rarity. And while he had plenty of souls he could send to canvas Hell, the attention such a search would bring him would be a bit too sour for his tastes. He had a reputation to uphold, and he would rather not allow rumors of that sort to besmirch it!

Besides, that would also require interacting with the tiny creatures. His apathy leaned more towards disdain, and he doubted his patience would last long with extended exposure. Most of the children he saw down here tended to be quite rambunctious and eager to engage in their wicked whims, hardly good conversationalists. And so prone to tantrums, too. They were best interacted with in small doses.

So, his curiosity remained an idle thing, a fleeting thought he would entertain from time to time but never follow up on.

Perhaps that was why when he saw the oddly quiet little bat girl a second time weeks later, he decided to make a quick detour and approach her.

The few demons who had yet to flee now took their chance to run screaming as he crossed the street, retreating far away. The frantic departure didn’t seem to register to the child, who continued to sit on the sidewalk drawing with chalk. She didn’t look up even as Alastor’s shadow loomed over her and made his presence apparent, intently focused on her work.

 “Why hello again, little miss,” he greeted with his usual smile. He only got a little hum in reply, not even a glance, but he took no offense to the minor slight. He leaned forward slightly to try to peer at her drawing, but found his view blocked by the tufts of hair-like fluff crowning her head. “An aspiring artist, are you? May I have a look?”

At that she finally looked at him, head tipping back to blink at him owlishly. Then she scooted aside a little so he could see while she returned to drawing. He got a great look at a cutesy drawing of headless bodies and some creatures that could be dogs, lions or horses holding a square—no, a torso, in its mouth. He could see some scribbles that were probably meant to be severed limbs.

His grin stretched wider as he took in the rough facsimile of a massacre. Children’s drawings always had a tendency to be slightly more creepy with their roughness, and this one was a spectacular example. “Ah, what fine work! It warms my cold, still heart to see our youth still has an appreciation for the arts.”

She hummed again, now busy scribbling in some pink that was probably meant to be blood. Pastels tended to limit one’s options for depicting gore, but that hardly stopped true artists. Not that she was a true artist of course. She was a child, they would color the sky green and grass purple if they felt like it—

Wait, those scribbles seemed to be more lumpy than puddle-like. It was hardly going to be remotely accurate, but a thought crossed his mind. “What exactly are you drawing now?” he asked, just to confirm his suspicions.

She paused, looking up at him with another owlish blink, and then offered an innocent smile. “Intestines,” she chirped.

Alastor couldn’t help himself, and even if he could he wouldn’t want to. He burst into laughter at the bright declaration, proclaimed in that proud and cheerful way that only children had. A child drawing intestines? What a hoot! Why, he doubted he even knew what those were at whatever age she seemed to be!

This little diversion had been well worth it. He found himself absolutely tickled as his eyes scanned the other drawings littering the sidewalk, recognizing further depictions of childishly-rendered carnage. A decapitated head here, animals feasting upon a corpse there. There were some more random doodles and shapes mixed in, but otherwise she’d drawn a decent panorama of a pastel-hued hell. She had obviously been at this for a while now.

He made a mental note of the street’s name so he could inspect it more closely later if he still felt like it. Alas, this time he was not on an aimless stroll. He had an appointment with a certain nosy demon journalist who had been quite insistent on getting some story for their newspaper. Not, of course, the man had any notice of their upcoming appointment. He certainly hadn’t given Alastor that courtesy when he ran a story criticizing the musical selection on his show.

“Well, this has been a delight, but I must be on my way now,” he said. “Things to do, people to slaughter and eat, you know how it goes. Tata for now, my dear!”

She hummed, now drawing more pink scribbles. Given its proximity to a head that noticeably had its scalp torn off (recognizable as such by the top being nearby with animal ears), he assumed it was brains. Perhaps something she had seen down here, or a stylized rendition of an old memory from her life? Hardly mattered, but still delightfully amusing in his opinion.

Alastor stepped around her to continue on his way while taking care to avoid walking onto her hard work, his steps a bit lighter. Not that his mood had been bad before, but now he had some new inspiration. It had been a while since he’d last played with intestines.

The sole person still lingering on the street took one look at his grin and promptly used his knife to slit his own throat, fearing for his not-quite-immortal soul.

The third encounter happened a month later.

Alastor had gone for another leisurely stroll, sending some of the souls under his control to run some last-minute errands while he enjoyed the annual mad scramble. The stores were in disarray as usual, the bars busier than ever with drunkards considering their next moves. People were arguing in the streets, some boarding up doors and windows with others standing guard. Everyone was so frantic they barely paid him any mind for once, caught up in their own worries and drama.

As he casually continued his stroll he came to an abrupt stop next to an alley, spinning on his heel to face it with his head tilting to the side. The little bat child sat hunched against a wall in the shadows, ignoring the chaos around her as she gnawed at some hunk of meat. Nicer and fuller than the meager scraps usually found in garbage, some castaway gift from a suicidal soul perhaps—

Ah, never mind. He could see a foot sticking out behind the dumpster. Well, she at least knew how to procure food for herself.

As she continued gnawing at the meat her eyes flicked up and settled on him, slowly lowering her meal and staring at him. For the first time in any of their encounters her eyes narrowed in suspicion, wings flexing and stretching open in an instinctive display meant for intimidation. “Mine,” she said in a hiss, teeth baring to reveal plenty of blood and sinew on her fangs.

Alastor merely laughed, his perpetual radio filter giving it a canned effect that echoed around them. “Oh, don’t worry, I have no interest in such a paltry-looking morsel! I prefer my meat fresh,” he added, irises briefly flickering into dials as his head rotating to the side with a loud crack. He shoved down the brief glimpse of his true demonic power with another laugh, perfectly genial and friendly. “Don’t mind me. Feel free to continue eating your fill, my dear.”

She continued eying him suspiciously, even as she slowly opened her mouth to take another bite. He had to admit, it was amusing that this was the first time she showed any sort of wariness towards him. Usually demons were terrified of him on sight alone, regardless of whether they recognized him.

Honestly, it was a little refreshing.

“So, how did you get it?” he asked, melting into his shadows and emerging deeper into the alley beside the dumpster. From the corner of his eye he saw the girl startle, her gaze snapping between him and the empty space he had occupied just moments ago. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her mouth pulling into a little pout. Obviously she had never seen teleportation before, which was to be expected; the power was hardly common even in Hell.

The few times he had shown off this power in front of children they had immediately expressed awe and excitement, to the point of grating on his ears. As he’d started coming to expect from this child, she defied that trend. Once she got past confusion she looked even more wary and curled up a little tighter, wings folding around her to shield her body—no, her meal, he realized with keen amusement.

Alastor restrained the urge to laugh at her glare, instead making a show of inspecting the body behind the dumpster. The head had been smashed by a sizeable rock, brains spilling out from beneath the gore-covered stone and creating a rather mushy-looking mass within the blood puddle. “Dropped a rock from above?” he asked. She gave a little “mmhmm” and slowly nodded, and his grin widened as he straightened with a sharp laugh. “Classic! They never think to look up, do they?”

She slowly shook her head, still peering at him suspiciously. Her chin dipped the cover of her wings without breaking eye contact, the quick bob of her head telling him she’d probably just torn off another chunk of meat. Her wariness was just so amusing given the reason for it, why would Alastor have any interest in her meal? He’d already told her he preferred his meat a bit more raw than that.

Her eyes trailed his approach without flinching, bending over in a deep bow so he was closer to eye level. He even kept his arms folded behind his back, a typical habit of his but also a silent signal that he had no intention of trying to steal her food. Not that any was really left, this close he could see that she’d picked it down to the bone by this point.

“You’re quite the quiet one, aren’t you?” he observed slyly. “Tell me, how are you so calm right now?”

She blinked up at him with a little frown, her ears twitching and head cocking to one side in silent question. His own eyes darted to the mouth of the alley, prompting her to turn her head to look just in time to see a demon run by.

“WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!” he screamed while pulling his hair out.

“IT’S THE END OF DAYS!” screamed a woman who ran past from the opposite direction.

“Say your prayers now!” yelled a different man, ringing a bell as he slowly shuffled past them with a sandwich board slung over his shoulders. “Offer your pleas to Lucifer! May He protect you all!”

He stumbled when a rock was thrown at his head. “Lucifer’s done shit for us!” some shrill old woman’s voice hollered. “Just shut up about him already!”

“Yeah, just ‘cause your last cult didn’t work out doesn’t mean this one will!” added another voice. 

“YOU WANNA GO, YOU PUNK!” the demon growled with horns sprouting and eyes turning red, and lunged towards some other unseen figure. Sounds of a tussle broke out, the loud slaps of fists upon flesh ringing through the air and blending into the general chorus of screams and panic already permeating the air.

Alastor listened to the fight with a happy sigh. “Ah, I love the sound of chaos in the morning. Quite refreshing, isn’t it?” His eyes flickered to the side to see the girl watching wide-eyed, ears twitching as they no doubt picked up on further fighting and havoc he couldn’t hear himself. He almost envied her keen hearing.

Her head finally turned to him once more and he returned the motion, her earlier wariness now dimmed and replaced by childish curiosity. “Why’s everyone fighting?” she asked.

He perked up a bit, grin stretching a little wider as his head cocked further to the side. “Oh? Don’t you know? Tomorrow’s the annual Extermination!”

“Ek-turr-muh... Ek-stra-mashe...” Her eyebrows furrowed further in frustration as she struggled to repeat the word, clearly unfamiliar with it. And as she did Alastor felt his own smile strain, realization striking. Ah, this girl was a new arrival, wasn’t she?

“Why, dear, do you not know? About how every year angels descend from the heavens for one day to try to purge Hell of as many sinners as possible?”

She frowned up at him, more curious than confused. “What’s an ‘angel’?” she asked, and a record scratch cut through the air.

Seconds later found the pair manifesting in his living room, the little girl blinking in surprise as she looked around. The abrupt change of scenery didn’t seem to phase her too much, her expression full of curiosity more than alarm.

“Welcome to my not-so-humble abode!” Alastor announced with a grand sweep of his arm. “Be careful about what you touch, but otherwise make yourself at home. Just don’t jump on any of the furniture or anything like that, and try not to cause any trouble.”

The girl just kept looking around, clearly awestruck. His living room was quite nice in his opinion, with a nice sitting area with plush red couches and armchairs and a cozy bookshelf, though the shelves held more radios than books. He’d accrued quite the collection over the years, even gathering a few that were a bit too modern for his tastes just for the heck of it.

Her gaze quickly settled upon one of his radios, ears swiveling forward as she all but darted towards it. Screams emanated from it, a broadcast of his collection of souls that he kept constantly playing at a low volume for his own personal enjoyment.

Alastor watched as she planted herself on the floor in front of it, looking almost mesmerized. Well, she had good taste at least!

...

He had no idea what to do now.

He had seldom interacted with a small child before now, let alone brought one into his abode for extended contact. He had no experience with entertaining them over a long period of time. Surely her fascination with the radio would dwindle eventually, and then who knew what she would do next? It wasn’t like he had any picture books or toys for her to play with.

Well, this was a conundrum! Him, actually without an idea of his next move! It was laughable, really, and Alastor chuckled to himself. Bringing her into his own house was an impulsive decision, but this girl was just far too amusing to leave to be slaughtered by the angels. He could surely handle hosting her for a day or two.

(Years later, he and many others would reflect on this moment and pinpoint it as one of the best decisions he’d ever made. For now though, he had no way of knowing the impact this one impulse would have on all of Hell.)

Chapter Text

As far as pre-extermination nights went, this one was pretty average. The lead up to the annual heavenly Extermination was always hectic and chaotic, with sinners scrambling to find shelter or engage in some final crazy night of debauchery before throwing themselves to the angels. Most places had already shut down and boarded up in preparation for the annual bloodfest, including the bar where Husk currently resided.

This joint was a low-key and almost classy one for an underground place. Literally underground, the trapdoor entrance was hidden within another bar and could be easily missed. Only regulars at the place above got hints the place existed, and only those who had proven they wouldn’t start a bar fight every time they got a little sloshed got actually invited. Bar fights still broke out in here, this was Hell after all, but it was nice to have a place where a fight wouldn’t erupt over the tiniest shit because someone had gotten drunk off a single shot.

And those who went on to become regulars here got an invite to ride out the Extermination in safety, and that included Husk.

The cat demon slumped into a stool at the counter with an exhausted sigh, letting his head slump onto the countertop. He had just spent the past hour helping with the final barricade efforts, and they were now officially sealed in for the next forty-eight hours. Already others were popping caps on bottles and filling glasses to toast to a job well done and get started on the traditional two-day bender. If any angels did find this place, no one wanted to be sober enough to experience their final deaths.

The buzz of insect wings and a clink of glass against wood near his ear had him raising his head, finding a freshly filled shot glass inches from his nose. “Here ya go, Husk,” the bartender said with a grin, a dragonfly man who took advantage of his wings to zip around the bar. “First shot on the house.”

“Thanks, Buzz,” Husk said, sitting up to drink properly while the bartender flew off to another regular. The amber liquid looked different from his usual poison, he could tell this one was classy instead of the typical cheap swill. A nice reward for his hard work and a good start to the night. He offered a tired grin as he reached for the glass—

Only for his claws to close around empty air.

He sat in silence for a second, brain struggling to process the sight of red-tinted floorboards instead of a dark wood countertop. Glowing symbols pulsated and faded in the fringes of his vision, only adding to the surreal nature of the abrupt change of scenery. “What the—oh, come on!” he groaned as understanding finally struck.

“Good evening, Husker!” greeted the most annoying and infuriating person he had ever had the misfortune of meeting. His stool spun of its own accord, letting him scowl at the source of his misery for the past way too many years. As expected he found Alastor leaning right in his face, that damn sleazy grin stretched almost impossibly wide. This close Husk could smell the deer demon’s breath all too clearly, as putrid and rank as ever. “So nice of you to drop in this fine Extermination Eve!”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Husk growled, slipping off the bar stool to get some space from the bastard and his god-awful breath. Just in time, as it fizzled out of existence to either return to its original spot or some other space he’d rather not know about. “Dammit, you can’t even give me a break now?”

“Don’t be so dour, old chum!” Alastor crowed. He vanished and suddenly Husk felt an arm drape around his shoulder, his unfortunately keen nose telling him that Alastor was now right beside him. (Seriously, he half-wondered if the bastard had a vendetta against toothpaste. At least it didn’t smell like he’d just eaten a corpse.) “This is one of the safest places in all of Hell during Exterminations, far better than whatever hovel you’d planned to hole yourself up in, and I’m graciously letting you stay here!”

Husk ducked out from under his arm and stepped back to get some more distance, glaring at Alastor partially so he couldn’t just sneakily pop up beside him again. He shook a finger at the smug bastard accusingly, uncaring of the power difference as he snarled, “Dammit, you! You can’t just—wait, the hell is that?”

His tirade died prematurely as his eye caught a spot of lavender behind Alastor, the pale color far out of place among the largely red-tinted decor. When he looked closer he saw it was a small puff of lavender-colored fluff protruding above a pair of folded bat wings. At first his brain couldn’t comprehend just what he was looking at, his subconscious immediately writing off the first possibility because it was so out of place in the room.

It took the sight of a pointed ear twitching slightly for it to finally register as a living being. A very tiny living being.

“Is that a kid?” he asked dumbly.

“Yes indeed, Husker my pal!” Alastor threw an arm around his shoulder again and this time Husk couldn’t even react, too dumbfounded by the sight of a child. “Found her in the gutter during my morning walk gnawing at some meat she pilfered from a fool. Poor thing had no clue about the Extermination, didn’t even know what an angel was. I couldn’t bear to leave her out there in such a clueless state! Little dear would have been slaughtered in no time flat!”

Husk barely registered Alastor’s yakking in his ear, just continuing to stare at the kid. Children, genuine children, were a rare sight in Hell. Hellborn children tended to be kept in the other rings where sinners couldn’t go—and this one? He could tell this one was a sinner just from a glance. They—she? Alastor said she, so it was a girl right?—she sat on the floor with her back to them, a long tail with feathers not unlike his own swaying as she stared enraptured at a radio.

A radio faintly playing the sound of screams .

A shudder ran down his spine in recognition of the ghastly chorus—anyone could recognize those voices after all the times they would sporadically sound from radios. “Is that your damn overlord broadcast?” he whispered in horror. Though Alastor had long stopped broadcasting the screams of his victims on a daily schedule by the time Husk landed down in Hell, he still occasionally played it for the public when the mood struck. Shrieks from radios in neighboring apartments had woken Husk up in the middle of the night more than once.

Alastor took advantage of his shock to yank the cat demon even tighter against his side in a mockery of affection. “Yes it is, good ear my friend! I like to keep a private broadcast going for my own personal enjoyment, it makes for excellent background noise while going about my day. That little doll has such good taste, wouldn’t you agree? She beelined straight for it and has been listening to it ever since. I couldn’t have given a better recommendation myself!”

As he spoke he gave Husk a final squeeze, practically smushing him against his side, before Husk finally shrugged off his arm. Alastor relented and stepped back of his own accord, apparently having filled his quota for harassment through physical contact. It was just as well because Husk didn’t have the mind to distance himself this time, still staring at the child utterly dumbfounded.

This was the first child he’d seen in— years, easily. Probably at least a decade or more. And, in Alastor’s living room of all places? Listening to his damn nightmare broadcast?

He finally tore his gaze from the kid to face an expectant Alastor, the asshole watching him with that damn self-satisfied smirk of his. Amusement and mischief danced in his eyes, looking almost like a child himself with how much he anticipated Husk’s reaction. All the cat could manage to utter was one question: “Why?”

“That is a good question, my dear Husker!”

Horrifying realization struck him yet again, dread pooling in his stomach. “...You have no idea, do you?”

The widening of Alastor’s grin was answer enough.

“Unbelievable,” Husk grumbled, dragging a paw down his face. Alastor had grabbed a random brat to shelter from the Extermination on a whim. A kid who clearly had no clue what was going on in Hell if she didn’t even know what angels were.

“It was quite impulsive on my part, I admit, but the girl is just far too amusing to leave to the slaughter!” Alastor crowed, twirling his cane as he stepped aside. “Why, would you believe me if I told you that the first time I saw her, she was sitting in the middle of the massacre on 5th and Brimstone Avenue?”

That got an automatic wince from Husk, fur bristling and eyes going wide with shock. “Are you shitting me?” Few massacres were gruesome enough to get known, but that one had been particularly nasty for something that started as a regular brawl. It even ended up involving permanent deaths thanks to some of the bastards having angelic steel. One of the regulars at Buzz’s place had lost an arm to it, the stump unable to heal after getting sliced off.

“Not at all! Why, she looked the picture of calm and serenity in the middle of that carnage, barely looked ruffled by the bloodshed at all. She even gave me a little souvenir!” One of Alastor’s shadow popped up next to him, holding oh FUCK that was an angelic blade!

“Satan, man!” Husk yelped, jumping away with his fur standing on end and wings puffing up apprehensively. “Is that the tip of one of their spears!?”

“Correct again, good eye my friend!” Alastor accepted the blade from the shadow with a gracious bow, Husk reflexively scrambling further away from the madman. His reflexive fear only served to deepen his contractor’s amusement. “Oh, calm down, I have no intention of using it on you. After all,” and his eyes tinted black, pupils shrinking into dials as his head bent at an unnatural angle closer to upside-down than sideways. “I don’t need to.”

The dip in his voice finally got the girl to tear her gaze away from the radio, glancing at them over her shoulder. Now that Husk could see her face her youth was even more evident, those red eyes just so big. Somehow she looked more curious than scared though, twisting her head in a mimicry of Alastor.

Alastor’s head snapped back to its normal upright position, features normal as he smiled at her pleasantly. “Thank you again for the gift, dear. It’s been quite useful!”

She blinked, and flashed a brief smile with a little noise of acknowledgment before quickly turning back to the radio. This kid was weird, Husk thought to himself. “Okay, does she talk?” he muttered aloud. It felt odd to see a child quiet for this long.

“Sometimes!” Alastor chirped. “She’s definitely a quiet one. Now that I think about it, she never even spoke to me in our first meeting. The very first word she said to me was intestines!”

“Why would she—know what, never mind. I don’t want to know.” Husk dragged a paw down his face again. He was starting to get an idea of why Alastor had taken enough interest in her to shelter her for the duration of the Extermination. “Well, does she have a name?”

“Good question! I’m afraid we never exchanged introductions.”

This just kept getting worse. Alastor had encountered this kid multiple times by the sounds of it, and still knew basically nothing about her before deciding to snatch her up, even if it was only for a day. The man tended to be pretty whimsical, but never before had he seen Alastor be a fucking idiot. There was impulse, and then there was this.

“If this was anyone else, this would probably be hilarious,” Husk grumbled. The whole scenario was pretty ridiculous from the outside: the infamous Radio Demon taking in some brat he barely knew just from boredom. It sure wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart; Husk knew better than to think the deer had gone soft.

Probably meant this kid was particularly fucked up in some entertaining way. Which was saying something, since kid sinners tended to be some of the worst. Not that many lasted long, given their inexperience dealing with true evil. They usually made easy targets for particularly malicious sinners, or else got taken out during the Exterminations. Very few had the toughness to make it to mental adulthood.

Given this one was in Alastor’s place, she probably had better odds than most.

Husk shelved the thought to regard the kid again, who had not moved an inch and still stared at the radio like it was a TV. How long had she been sitting there listening to the screams like that? Did he want to know? Wait, didn’t Alastor mention something about finding her during his morning stroll? It was evening now, so...

Yeah, fuck it. He decided to just end that thought there for the sake of his sanity.

“Oi, kid,” he called, making her ear flick. “You got a name?” The child finally turned her head to him again, blinking large red eyes and tilting her head.

“What’s a name?”

That... Gave him pause. It made Alastor pause, too, the constant static hum that followed him briefly cutting out with a record scratch noise. Did the kid seriously just ask what a name was?

As usual, Alastor recovered his composure first, chuckling in amusement. Only his extensive history with the man let Husk pick up on the faintly bewildered edge to the sound. “He means to ask, what do people call you when they want to get your attention, dear?” he said smoothly. A decent alternative to answering her question, he was probably just as lost as where to even begin with explaining. Husk would find it way more amusing to see Alastor unsure of how to answer something if it wasn’t because of a kid not knowing what the hell a name was.

Her head tipped to the side, taking a moment to think. “Girlie and you,” she finally chirped. Alastor’s smile grew more static and stiff, static fizzling out to dead silence with no record scratch sound effect this time. Husk just stared at her harder.

After a long moment of awkward silence the girl’s ears twitched and she turned back to the radio, scooting closer to listen to the screams more clearly.

Husk took a step closer to Alastor, wide eyes locked onto the back of her head. “Al, I think you found a really messed up kid,” he muttered under his breath. “Like, even by Hell’s standards.”

“Is she?” Alastor replied, just as quiet. “I have little experience with children, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Pretty sure most kids old enough to end up down here at least understand what a name is.”

“True, true. I thought as much, but it’s good to hear you confirm it. As I said, I have little exposure to these sorts of creatures so it’s hard for me to gauge how normal or abnormal she is. That’s why I summoned you here!”

“Wait, me?” Husk whipped around to face him in surprise, and was met with Alastor’s yellow teeth mere inches from his eyes. Satan, he could see his gums, and they were just as black as he expected with that foul breath. He might have gagged if not for the circumstances.

“Yes, you!” Alastor confirmed in his showman voice, taking great joy at Husk’s shock. “Once we arrived, it occurred to me that I really have no idea where to even begin with watching a child, even if it’s for just a day. The radio has occupied her attention quite well so far, but surely she will lose interest at some point, and I have no idea what else a child might like to do. So I thought to myself, ‘Who better to ask about this subject than Husker?’”

“I dunno, Niffty?” Husk quipped dryly.

They both paused then, thinking of the small cleaning-obsessed and bug-killing cyclops. And her many, many, many rambles about romance and fan fiction. A shudder ran down his spine that had Husk’s fur ruffling in a way that visibly traced its path, mouth pulling into a grimace. “I take it back. Never let Niffty around the kid, she’ll corrupt her.”

“Agreed!” Alastor said with a nod. “I adore the little darling but I would rather not have this one influenced like that. I am far too interested in how she will turn out as she is!”

Yeah, this kid was something. Husk shot another glance her way, eyebrows furrowing. He couldn’t get over how tiny she looked sitting there on the floor in front of the shelf, all of the furniture seeming to loom over her. She had to be even smaller than Niffty, though size was hardly an indicator of age when it came to sinners.

Speaking of age, “How old is she, anyway?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t the foggiest. Looks can be so deceiving down here after all!” Alastor glanced at the girl as he added in a lower voice, “Do you suppose she would know?”

Husk hated that that was a valid question. “If she didn’t even know what a name is, probably not,” he grumbled. How the hell did she apparently know the word intestines, but not about names?

“Speaking of names, we should probably address that first!” Alastor decided, and turned to stroll over to the girl. She turned once more to watch him approach, not flinching even as he loomed and leaned over her. He had to bend pretty far to be even close to eye level with her. “Well dear, let’s do some introductions. You may call me Alastor, and the fine feline fellow behind me is Husk—”

“Feline means cat,” Husk cut in, knowing she almost certainly wouldn’t understand half of those words.

“What’s a cat?”

...This kept getting worse. He couldn’t even understand why he continued to be surprised by her ignorance of basic things. The bar was in Hell, and they lived there. For the love of Satan, what happened to this kid in life?

Alastor waited a beat to process the query before saying, “Husker is.”

“Oh, okay.”

Husk couldn’t even be irritated at the reminder he was stuck in a feline body for eternity like he usually was. The kid was just too messed up to think about his own grievances.

“Anyways, those are our names ,” Alastor placed emphasis on the word, “Alastor and Husk. All people have names, my dear, so now we need one for you. ”

Her head tipped to the side once more, looking thoughtful. “Name... I like name.”

“Glad to hear it! Now we can get started on picking one!”

She shook her head though. “I like name,” she repeated, a bit more firmly, and his head tilted.

“Come again?”

“Name.”

Husk realized what was happening before Alastor did, resisting the urge to slap his face yet again as he groaned. “Kid, we are not calling you ‘Name,’” he huffed. Alastor’s spine snapped ramrod straight in surprise while the kid leaned over to peer at him around Alastor’s legs with a pout.

“But I like it!” she protested. “Name... Name.” She repeated the word as if testing it, and then nodded to herself. “I am Name.”

With that declaration she turned back to the radio, apparently done with the conversation.

Alastor just stared at the back of her head for a long moment, smile frozen and eyes wide. Then his head swiveled to face Husk with a loud snap and cocked to the side in silent question. As if asking, ‘Really? Did I really just hear that right?’

Husk met the look with a smug smirk of his own, amused at the obvious confusion beneath that frozen smile. Horrifying as every bit of this interaction with the kid was turning out to be, he couldn’t help but take pleasure in seeing Alastor, the great Radio Demon, thrown off his game. By a child no less.

“Welcome to kid logic, where common sense is out the window.”

Alastor stared at him a moment longer before turning back to the girl. “Child, you can’t be called ‘name,’” he said, and she turned back with another little frown.

“Why not?”

Husk had to bite back a laugh at that, mind flashing back to the infinite ‘why’ loops that dominated pop culture. Even if he had any ideas on how to answer that question, he would hold his tongue because it would go on forever. Apparently Alastor was unfamiliar with the trap though, trying to answer seriously. “Because ‘name’ is not a name.”

“Why not?”

“It just isn’t proper, my dear!”

“Why?”

“It just... isn’t.”

“Why?”

As he watched the exchange Husk just smirked and folded his arms, taking pleasure in Alastor’s mounting frustration. For possibly the first time since he lost his soul in that accursed gamble, Husk actually felt glad Alastor summoned him. The deer was right. This Extermination was looking to be far more entertaining than holing up and drinking at Buzz’s.

Chapter Text

Choosing a name for a child turned out to be hard.

Even harder?

Choosing a name for a child who could offer input on said name.

“Emma?”

“No.”

“Clara?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Claire?”

“No.”

“Anna?”

“Nuh...”

Alastor closed his mouth with an audible click, squinting at the girl consideringly. “Hmm.” Husk flicked his eyes towards the pair briefly to make sure Alastor wasn’t going to do anything before looking back to his phone.

“Okay, so this says that the scientific name for bats is chiroptera,” he said. “How about, I don’t know, Kyra? Or Tera?”

Alastor perked up, grin widening. “Ah! Tera sounds quite close to terror, doesn’t it? A fitting name for a denizen of Hell, don’t you think my dear?”

“Don’t like it,” the child said immediately, and he froze briefly before his eyes narrowed once more.

“Hmm.”

“Yeah, I’m out of ideas then,” Husk declared, pocketing his phone. He’d toss it on the couch for dramatic effect, but he had a feeling Alastor would make it vanish out of spite for the newer technology.

“I think my inspiration’s running dry too,” Alastor muttered wryly, still squinting at the kid with a look just a few shades away from murderous. She tilted her head and blinked up at the deer demon, oblivious to his mounting exasperation.

“I still like Name,” the kid said. Husk’s paw met his face for the—

“How many times has she said that now?” he asked.

“Six,” Alastor replied crisply.

—sixth time. That was the only ‘name’ she seemed to like so far, and they were not letting her use that. “The answer is still no, by the way,” he grumbled behind his paw before peeling it away from his face. She just tilted her head and blinked placidly.

“Can I go back to listening to the radio now?”

“Yes, I think we’ve all earned a break,” Alastor muttered wryly. “We’ve been at this for two hours now after all.” More than mild annoyance crept into his tone at the number, not that she noticed. The still-nameless girl didn’t wait for any further dismissal to trot back towards the radio and plant herself in front of it again. Alastor meanwhile retreated over to Husk’s side with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Two... hours,” he repeated through gritted teeth, his smile strained.

If he wasn’t equally exhausted, Husk would find Alastor’s exasperation funny. Actually, scratch that, he did find it funny. Hilarious, even. The guy was the most annoying person he knew in life and death, so seeing him gradually losing his patience dealing with a child was hilarious. At this point, he figured the only reason he hadn’t snapped yet was pride. Snapping would be like admitting defeat to a child, which Alastor obviously could not allow.

The amusement was enough to keep Husk’s mood light even with how tedious the task was. “Kid sure is picky, isn’t she?” he asked with a smirk, and was treated to a murderous glare for half a second before Alastor whirled around with an exaggerated shrug.

“Well, can one blame her? Names can matter a lot more down here than up there, a good name can leave a strong impression and a bad name can make others look down on you before you even speak. I can’t fully relate since I was perfectly satisfied with my own mortal name, but it’s probably the biggest decision of her afterlife thus far!”

He laughed, the sound just a little strained as he added, “Though it would help if she gave some hints as to her tastes.”

Yeah, the kid hadn’t been very helpful in giving them hints for why she rejected each name. “We’ve gone through probably all the classic names, vampire stuff, radio-related junk, colors,” Husk listed off, feeling some of his own exasperation rear its head. “I’ve learned the names of more shades of purple tonight than colors I knew even existed.” And every single one of them got rejected, from Amethyst to Wisteria.

“At this rate, we may as well grab a dictionary and read off every page until we find a word she likes!” Alastor proclaimed with a laugh. Then his head perked up as if struck by inspiration. “Hmm, I was merely joking, but now I think that actually may not be a bad idea!”

“Yeah, why not?” Husk huffed. “I think we’ve run out of all the names we can get from a little bat girl anyway.”

The girl’s ears twitched slightly, head cocking to the side even as she continued gazing at the radio. “Bat-girl,” she repeated in a murmur, as if testing the word.

“No,” both adults immediately denied, Husk’s paw meeting his face for a seventh time. Her ears twitched again before she hummed, still focused on the radio. Of course the kid only latched onto the weird words.

Husk dragged his paw down his face and heaved a large sigh before reluctantly peeling it away. “You were saying about a dictionary?” he asked, and Alastor perked up again.

“Ah, yes! Dear, stay put and don’t touch anything while we’re gone!” he called over his shoulder, and he got a distracted hum in response. Really, he probably didn’t even need to say that; she had spent hours listening to the radio without any sign of losing interest.

He snapped his fingers and his shadows quickly enveloped the two adults. Husk jumped as they emerged in a study, looking around with a startled gasp. “Satan, man, couldn’t we just walk!?” he sputtered while Alastor inspected the bookshelf behind the desk.

“We could, but where’s the fun in that?” He pulled out a book to reveal a bottle of fine brandy hidden in the back of the shelf. “Ah, here we are!”

Husk just stared as Alastor replaced the book and uncorked it. “Why do you have drinks hidden on your shelf? You live alone, there’s no one to hide it from!”

“You know what they say about old habits dying hard!” Two small glasses manifested with a snap of his fingers, and he promptly filled one. “I may not have been a drunkard like you, but even I liked to indulge in a nice drink sometimes, and I had to make my stash last through the whole Prohibition. I hated the swill available at the local speakeasies, it was poison in the most literal sense of the word!”

He settled in the plush chair at the desk, practically an armchair on wheels. A wave of his hand had another bottle appear on the desk, this one much cheaper. Because naturally, he wouldn’t share his good stuff with Husk. “Please, help yourself, Husker!” he said as he sipped at his own drink.

“Yeah, I’m gonna pass,” Husk said. A record scratch cut through the air, Alastor freezing mid-sip with wide eyes. After a moment he lowered his glass and set it on the desk with a clink, the soft noise echoing loudly through the silence.

“What’s this?” His head bent to the side with a loud crack as he stared at Husk, eyes burning with a soul-piercing intensity. “Did I hear that right? Husker, the largest drunk I know, rejecting an offer of free alcohol? Could it be you’re finally giving up the bottle? Why, I never thought I’d see the day! What is the world coming to?”

“Knock it off, I ain’t quitting,” Husk huffed, and added under his breath, “Hell knows I need it to put up with you.” More loudly he continued, “I’m just not drinking around a kid.”

Alastor blinked and then nodded, his smile losing its manic edge as his posture relaxed. “Ah, I see! Very well then.” The cheap bottle and second glass vanished, and he plucked his glass from the desk to resume drinking. “How surprisingly responsible of you. Do you have a soft spot for children, perhaps?”

“No, I just don’t want to leave her unsupervised with you. If there were any other adults around here I’d already be halfway through that bottle.”

“Are you trying to imply that I’m irresponsible?” Alastor teased.

“You are, but more that you’re just a bad influence on her.”

That got him a full laugh track from the microphone. “Oh Husker, I hardly need to do anything to influence her! The darling seems perfectly fine on her own, she even killed a man just this morning to steal some food from him.”

 That tidbit of information got a pause from Husk. “Yeah, that tracks,” he decided. No way would Alastor pick up a kid if they weren’t a little screwed up, a willingness to murder seemed like the minimum requirement. “You know, that kid really is weird though. She’s so... quiet.”

“I think that makes her swell company. I always like finding a good listener!”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s not nearly as annoying as most of the other brats we see down here.” Husk rolled his eyes before frowning, tail coiling around his ankles in an unconscious show of discomfort. “But that’s the thing. Most brats that end up down here, they’re screwed in the head in obvious ways. They’re way too happy about murdering and make sure everyone knows, or else they’re nervous wrecks because they know they’re so weak. That kid though?”

He shook his head as he glanced at the door, imagining her sitting in front of the radio beyond it. “She’s just so dang calm. I don’t think I’ve seen a shred of fear or worry in her eyes, and I don’t think it’s because she’s a cocky brat. I’m telling you, that’s weird.”

Alastor hummed thoughtfully, finishing off his drink and setting it down. “Her composure is quite unusual,” he agreed, oddly quiet and subdued for once. “I have rarely seen even fellow Overlords who could remain so calm and fearless. I almost wonder if she doesn’t understand how dangerous the world is, but—well, I am quite certain she participated in that brawl I mentioned earlier.”

Husk winced at the reminder of the massacre. “Fuck, yeah, pretty much anyone would be freaked out after being caught up in that.”

“And she wasn’t,” Alastor continued for him smoothly. “She looked calm as a clam. Just curiously poking at a corpse like it were some dead animal rather than a formerly living person.”

The mental image made Husk’s lips curl back in a grimace. “Just—I don’t get it.” He shook his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose, ignoring the sharp pinch from his claws digging into his flesh. “She can speak English so she obviously wasn’t a feral kid with no human contact, but—to not even know what a name is? And to end up down here, too? The kid doesn’t give me psychopath vibes like you. Just—”

He hissed quietly, fur bristling as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit, what the fuck happened to her in life?

The question lingered in the air, not the kind that really called or expected an answer. Any child who landed in Hell likely had some misery to their existence, but her imbalanced knowledge of the world and its basic workings implied a particularly unusual one.

Whatever happened, it had to be one of the more fucked up backstories even if she didn’t seem particularly traumatized by it.

Eventually he heaved another sigh and released his hold on his face, strolling past Alastor to the bookshelf behind him. “Forget it. Where’s that dictionary...” He pulled out one volume as his eyebrows shot up at the author. “Isaac Asimov?”

“Oh, you know the name? I haven’t read any of his works yet.”

“Me neither, I just know his stuff’s all science fiction. The guy wrote about robots and shit—” He startled as the book vanished from his hands, along with all other novels with Asimov’s name lining on the shelf. He turned to side-eye Alastor, the deer demon innocently sipping from his freshly refilled glass. “I know you have a thing against newer technology, but you don’t even want freaking books about sci-fi shit that doesn’t exist?”

“Of course not, Husker! Why should I sully my shelves with such silly and frivolous topics?”

“Then why did you even have them?”

“They came with the shelf.”

“They came with the —nope, never mind. Not gonna ask.” Husk shook his head as he resumed his perusal, quickly noticing many of them likely hadn’t been picked out personally by the radio host. “Lemme guess, this book on Greek mythology came with it too.”

“Yes, though I have perused that particular one,” Alastor confirmed amiably. His smile took on a bit of a stiffer edge as he added, “Hades admittedly got me morbidly curious about the subject.”

Husk winced and shuddered, immediately recalling the former Overlord from his own time with the title. “Ah yeah, that guy,” he grumbled. “Thank fuck Vox took him out.”

“Normally, I do not care to hear such kind sentiments towards that moronic picture box,” Alastor said, voice tinged with static. Tension filled the air as his eyes flickered to become dials, antlers slowly growing from his head as his shadow began to stretch and climb the wall. The shift made Husk wince and shrink into himself, eyes going wide as a cold sweat built.

Then Alastor blinked and laughed, the air clearing up in an instant as he returned to normal. “But in this case, I unfortunately have to agree! Meetings are much more bearable after that egotistical dewdropper got removed from the scene!”

Husk suppressed a shudder as he pulled the book from the shelf and flipped it open to a random page, desperate to change the topic. He faltered upon seeing its contents though, blinking in surprise before his shoulders slumped. “Afrodietee,” he read aloud in a flat tone.

“I never said the book was good,” Alastor snickered. “I only kept it so I could test whether you can give someone an aneurysm in Hell!”

“Yeah, this would probably make Hades flip,” Husk muttered as he eyed the accompanying picture, hardly a classic depiction of the love goddess. Rosy pink locks of hair framed her face in the shape of a heart, matching with the heart-shaped pupils. Sheer white fabric draped across her torso in a mimicry of a toga, the material doing nothing to hide the hot pink lingerie underneath.

Morbid curiosity had him flipping through other pages, finding more misspelled deities and figures. Zoose with a jagged goatee shaped like three lightning bolts tied together and a puffy cloud for hair. Poesyedun with literal wavy hair made out of water. Aerees with ram horns and a sword, probably mixed up with Aries the constellation. Arakny with the head of a spider and four-armed woman’s torso stacked atop a spider abdomen. Ikaruss and Daydalus had steampunk-style wings that they wore like harnesses.

He had to admit, the depictions were at least creative. Browsing the illustrations and horrifically misspelled names stirred some memories of long-ago history classes and pop culture references. “I don’t remember much about Greek myths, but there was something about that girl with a box full of all evils or some shit, wasn’t there?”

“Ah yes, that was one of the funnier tales!” Alastor mused. “Pandora was her name, I believe. She was told not to open the box but did so anyway, cursing the world to be plagued with evil.” Alastor chuckled to himself, sounding amused as always at someone suffering even if it was fictional. “Whyever do you ask? Were you thinking of suggesting that for our little guest?”

“Just thought it might fit since I feel like the kid’s past is kinda like that box. Don’t wanna open it and find out what’s inside.”

“Surprisingly poetic of you! I suppose for once, curiosity did not kill the cat!” The teasing remark made Husk growl and forget his brief terror from just moments ago, whirling around with a scowl to point a claw at Alastor’s smug grin.

“Listen, you—”

A distant thud cut him off, both heads snapping to the door. They stood in silence for a moment, waiting to see if it was a one-off, before another thud sounded. “Hmm, perhaps she isn’t quite as obedient as I thought,” Alastor murmured, eyes narrowing in irritation.

All annoyance vanished as Husk felt a chill run down his spine at the tone, earlier terror returning not for himself this time, but for the kid. “Hey, Al, she’s just a kid—”

“Oh, don’t worry Husker, I have no intention of killing the little dear!” Alastor cut in. “I do have some scruples, believe it or not! Other forms of discipline aren’t off the table though,” he added darkly before melting into his shadows. Husk cursed as he darted out of the room, and cursed again when he realized he had no idea where the study was located compared to the living room. Alastor never gave him a tour of the place.

The sound of another thump thankfully gave him a clue on where to go, but it also made the situation worse, and he took off running. Luckily the house wasn’t a huge maze, so it only took about a minute of sprinting before he spotted a particularly familiar shade of red through a doorway. Alastor stood just inside a room he recognized must be the kitchen from the checkered tile floors.

Husk practically barreled inside and the Radio Demon’s head spun to look at him, his ever-present grin surprisingly cheerful and natural rather than angry. “Well hello Husker!” he greeted. “What has your fur so ruffled, my fine fellow?”

Husk didn’t respond right away, his chest heaving with the exertion from running as his eyes darted around the room. The kitchen looked mostly intact—mostly, because his gaze quickly fell upon a half-open cabinet. Dish detergent and heavy-duty soap rested on the tile floor outside it, along with some other bottles and a single rag. When he glanced at the cabinet doors he caught a glimpse of red peeking out before vanishing, more soft thumps sounding from inside as objects were shuffled around.

Husk felt some of his tension fade upon confirming the kid was safe, though he still remained on edge. “The heck’s she doing in there?”

“It appears she went scrounging for food and then hid away to dine,” Alastor said, gesturing to the fridge which Husk only now noticed wasn’t fully shut. Fortunately, his contractor’s tone was more amused than annoyed, so she wasn’t in danger for messing with his food. Probably.

Then he remembered this was Alastor, and got worried for another reason. “Wait, what’s even in your fridge? Is she eating—?”

He couldn’t even finish the question, but fortunately didn’t have to as Alastor picked up on his meaning and laughed. “Oh, Husker, I know my tastes can lean towards more unusual meats, but I rarely bother stocking up on it beyond what I sometimes buy from Rosie. I prefer it fresh.” The word came out as a smug little hiss, eyes narrowing in pleasure. “I have yet to check the refrigerator, but the only foodstuff that would be left out in the open would be the venison.”

The fact she wasn’t eating demon flesh was only a little consolation. Husk knew how Alastor liked his venison, and cringed at the thought of the kid eating a hunk of still-furry deer meat. “You really think she’d go for that?”

“Miiiine,” came a low hiss from within the cabinet, the word echoing around the room and laced with an ominous energy that made Husk blink in surprise. Huh, did some of her demonic power actually leak out into that?

“I do indeed!” Alastor confirmed after a beat. “I suppose I only have myself to blame really. I knew she was a scavenger and would likely search for food if not fed, but didn’t pay attention to the time.” A pointed glance at the clock reminded Husk it was well past dinnertime, which made his own stomach growl. The noise got Alastor’s attention, rocking on his feet a bit as his grin widened. “Feeling a bit hungry too, Husker?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before strolling towards the counter, his shadows slithering into the open fridge and emerging with vegetables and meat. They carried the ingredients over to where Alastor waited with an apron and knife, tossing the blade briefly in the air and catching it. “I suppose I should get started on dinner for all of us then!”

Husk expected as much. Alastor loved cooking and never wasted an opportunity to engage in the hobby. And as much as he hated to admit it, Alastor’s cooking was good. It was one of the few benefits of being stuck with the asshole for eternity.

“As long as it’s not raw meat, I’m game,” he said with a shrug. The motion made him aware of a weight against his arm though, and he looked down in surprise to see he still had that weird mythology book. In his haste to intercept Alastor he hadn’t noticed he’d held onto it, having shifted it to hang over his arm while open to a random page.

As he lifted it off he noticed a flash of purple from his periphery, and glanced over to see the girl peering out of the cabinet. Her face quickly retracted into the shadows upon registering his attention, but after a moment she peeked out again. He smirked as he noticed her eyes focused on the book, her curiosity evident. “Hey kid, never seen a book before?” he teased, and her head tipped to the side.

“Book?” she repeated, as if testing an alien word.

His smirk faded then, reminded of just who he was dealing with. Even Alastor’s movements faltered for a brief moment before he resumed chopping the ingredients, his knife striking the cutting board a little harder now. Right, they really should have expected that.

Husk looked down at the book. It was open to an illustration of a woman on a chariot, long dark hair flowing in a banner that looked like it had been sliced out of the night sky. Stars decorated her black toga, galaxies and nebulas providing splashes of color. White wings speckled with black and silver stretched behind her, an inverted version of the starry sky that she was clearly themed after.

The illustration seemed tame enough compared to Afrodietee (ugh), and it was quite pretty, so it was a good one. “Here, take a look,” he offered, crouching down and turning the book towards the cabinet. The girl emerged slowly, reaching out to touch the drawing with a look of awe.

“Who’s that?”

Husk grimaced for half a second as he glanced down at the page to read the entry’s title. “That’s... Nixx, a goddess of the night.” He hesitated to say the name, knowing it had to be spelled wrong, but the rest of the names at least seemed to be phonetically correct.

“Nixx,” the girl repeated softly. “Nixx... Nixx...” Then she nodded. “I like it.”

That got Husk’s attention, and Alastor’s too judging by how the chopping stopped again. “What’s that?” the deer asked, head rotating a full 180 degrees with a fixed smile. “Nixx?”

“Mmhmm.” She nodded.

“Nixx, huh,” Husk mused with a smirk. “That sounds like a pretty good name to me.”

“I couldn’t have come up with a better name myself!” Alastor agreed, suddenly appearing beside them already bent at the waist to be more eye level with the girl. His shadow took his place at the counter to continue chopping the ingredients, letting him give the girl his full attention and his most pleased grin yet. “A terrific name for a terrific little girl!” The newly minted Nixx returned his smile with one of her own, the first Husk had seen from her.

It would probably be a lot more endearing if she didn’t have chunks of fur and sinew clinging to her fangs.

That only seemed to further delight Alastor, grin widening before he sank into the floor and smoothly swapped places with his shadow at the counter. “I think this calls for a celebration, and an extra special dinner!”

“Dammit Al, you better not put any more of that venison in it!” Husk hollered as he rushed over.

And on that night as thousands of souls faced their eternal end, the soul of one Nixx found a new beginning instead.

Chapter Text

Nixx was an odd child.

Obviously they already knew that, or Alastor would not have bothered sheltering her for the Extermination. She had managed to snag just a bit of interest with her behavior, and the first day seemed to validate that interest.

In the three days they spent with her, they got a glimpse of just how odd she was though.

For instance, Nixx surprisingly possessed table manners. It had taken some effort to get her to actually sit at the table instead of hiding away with her meals that first night, at which point Alastor expected her to attack her food, but no. Instead she picked up the fork and shoveled the jambalaya into her mouth without any instruction on how to use it. She wasn’t the cleanest eater, but she wasn’t tearing into her food with her hands either.

After that first dinner she joined them at the table for meals much more willingly. She still hissed at them threateningly if they looked at her food too long or their hands strayed her direction at the table. She’d also find places to hide when she had snacks outside of proper meals. Typically though, she would eat in an unexpectedly civil manner at the table.

Even more surprisingly, she had no problems sleeping in front of them.

When Husk first saw her curled up on the floor in front of the radio he’d thought something happened, but no. She had simply fallen asleep on the rug, wings wrapped around her body like a blanket. She had even been irritated when he woke her up in his frantic check for a pulse, and nearly bit his paw before rolling over to face away from him with a little grumble.

“The kid can’t be that trusting,” Husk muttered in a neighboring room, jabbing an accusing finger at Alastor. “Did you do something to her!?”

“Not at all!” the Radio Demon replied with his hands held up in mock-surrender. “The little dear must simply be tired.”

“Tired enough to fall asleep around two strangers?” the cat huffed. “That’s bullshit and you know it.” 

“Perhaps she doesn’t see us as strangers anymore,” Alastor suggested lightly. “I have met her a few times after all, and we also fed her and even gave her a name.” Husk looked skeptical, but let it drop.

In truth, Alastor was also thrown off by seeing her comfortably asleep on the floor though. Sleep was one of the most vulnerable states for a demon, and he knew neither of them had done enough to earn that sort of trust. A child would not survive long in Hell if they carelessly fell asleep in the open, and Nixx hardly seemed the careless type.

Then morning came and he found Nixx huddled in the pantry, only emerging when Alastor entered to start preparing his coffee. Her ears kept twitching and flicking as she scurried to his side, hovering close without touching him.

“Why are there screams?” she whispered, gaze darting towards the walls.

“Why, that would be the thousands of sinners getting slain outside, of course!” Alastor replied as he snapped and materialized his favorite mug. “I told you, every year angels come down from heaven for one day to slaughter sinners. It’s a bloodbath like no other, a sight for sore eyes—but hardly something you want to actually see, it’s far too dangerous for a little girl! You’ll probably lose your head.”

His voice took on a menacing note with the last sentence and the air grew thick with static, some of his sadistic amusement at the annual festival of bloodshed and suffering seeping through.

Nixx merely tilted her head, looking more curious than afraid. “Okay. What are you making?”

Just like that Alastor returned to his usual cheery self. “Coffee, no better way to start the day! Would you like to try some?”

Her nose wrinkled as she shook her head. “Smells bad.”

“Mm, thought not. You’re a bit young to have a taste for it. Take a seat and I’ll get started on breakfast!” She obediently trotted over to the table and climbed onto a chair as he went to the fridge, deciding to make use of the leftover venison. Husk’s disgusted shout when he staggered into the kitchen half an hour later only served to further amuse him.

Overall, their time together passed peacefully. Nixx was content to just sit around listening to the radio most of the day, compliantly pulling herself away whenever they wanted to give her a crash course about life in Hell. Alastor made sure to tell her all about angels and angelic steel, showing her the spear fragment she’d gifted him as a reference point. He even graciously threw in a brief overview of Overlords and turf wars for safe measure, though he neglected to mention his own position and title.

Husk, meanwhile, gave her the typical stranger danger spiel, not that she probably needed it after surviving a few months on her own. It had mainly been an excuse for him to gruffly warn her against making deals. “If anyone ever offers you a deal, say no,” he said sternly. “Don’t shake their hands, and never agree to give your soul to anyone, no matter what they say.”

Even as he spoke his fur bristled, pointedly not looking at Alastor. He knew the deer wanted to limit their influence and guidance on her, to observe how a child would fare in Hell, and that warning was a bit more guidance than he wanted. Still, he would let it slide. 

She tilted her head. “What’s a soul?”

A moment of silence. “You know, I don’t think I’d know how to explain that to an adult,” Husk said after a beat. “Not even gonna try.” Alastor rolled his eyes.

“Just listen to Husker,” he told her, disregarding his earlier thoughts about it being too much guidance. Because if she had no idea what a soul was, it would be far too easy to lose it. “If someone asks for your soul, say no.”

“Okay. Can I go back to the radio now?”

“Of course, my dear,” Alastor said with a smile while Husk visibly restrained the urge to groan, smiling as she scampered off. “Such a darling little thing, isn’t she?”

“You’re corrupting her. She’s going to go looking for screams instead of running away.”

“Oh, Husker, she already did that without my influence! Ran off during our first meeting to investigate the screams.”

“...Of course she did.” Husk finally gave into the urge to bury his face in his hands while Alastor grinned at him, Nixx oblivious as she sat in front of the radio once more.

Three days passed like that, enough for the immediate chaos to pass. And then Alastor dropped Nixx off at a random part of the city and left her to her own devices.

He had no interest in doing more than ensuring her basic survival beyond the Extermination. He wanted to see how she would develop on her own, how Hell would shape her already twisted psyche. Involving himself beyond the barest necessities would influence her, and that would be much duller. He already influenced plenty of demons to be the way he wanted; it was fun to step back and just be an observer for once.

At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter to Alastor whether the girl lived or died. If she lived, she could be a swell source of entertainment. If she died, well, it would be disappointing but no skin off his back in the long run.

Besides, he already got plenty of entertainment just from watching Husker fret over the girl!

The surly old cat would never admit it, but he had gotten a bit attached in those three days. He’d been visibly reluctant about sending off the child, though he didn’t dare voice his misgivings and kept his mouth shut. Every time they met after that, especially in the first few weeks, Alastor could see him straining not to ask about Nixx. Just watching him internally debate on revealing that sliver of potential weakness, as if Alastor wasn’t already aware, was amusing on its own!

Life otherwise continued as normal. The annual turf wars over newly free territory kept him plenty busy in the immediate weeks after the Extermination. He ran errands, broadcasted his show, slaughtered a few pests, made some new deals, went on strolls, caught up with friends. Maybe summoned Husk a little more often just to see him squirm, but if he did, that was no one’s business but his own. Just the usual.

A month passed peacefully like that (well, peaceful by Alastor’s standards) until he saw Nixx again.

Once again she was drawing, this time on a wall instead of the sidewalk, only now she had... paint? Yes, that was most certainly paint she was using to decorate a wall, which honestly disappointed him a bit. Blood made a fantastic medium if you knew what you were doing with it, or so one of his contracted souls had claimed. Alastor had limited inclination towards visual artistic mediums compared to his one true love, the radio, so he didn’t have much experience himself.

Though still a curious choice in medium, because blood actually was the easier one to obtain in Hell.

A pocket watch manifested into his open palm so he could make a show of checking the time. He confirmed he had a little time to spare before his meeting, so he let his shadows wrap around him so he could manifest directly beside Nixx. Child and adult ignored each other for the moment, a twitch of her ear the only indicator she’d noticed his arrival as she focused on painting.

Colors of every hue stained her hands and clothes, courtesy of the tubes scattered around her feet. Blue-dyed fingertips traced circles on the bricks, traces of green and pink bleeding through and muddying up the vivid shade. She dragged them in a wavy line, perhaps mimicking waves or clouds, or just doodling in general. A lot of the scribbles seemed rather nonsensical compared to her previous work, just random shapes and lines. Experimenting with a new medium perhaps.

Mostly though, she seemed to be painting flowers. Surprisingly mundane, given her previous artistic endeavor.

“A garden this time, my dear?” he asked. Her head snapped up towards him, blinking in placid surprise as she finally identified him. Then her face lit up, eyes practically sparkling with glee.

“Alastor! Hi!”

“Hello to you too, Nixx,” he replied. His gaze flicked to the tubes of paint and plastic plates used as palettes scattered on the sidewalk around her. “Where did you get this paint?” Upon closer inspection he recognized the brand as one produced by a rather pompous overlord whose products tended to be quite pricey. Not something even a benevolent soul would randomly gift a child.

“Found it.”

An oversimplification for sure, but that wording at least eliminated the possibility someone just gifted it to her. She apparently had no interest in elaborating on details, quickly pushing on, “I had a dream about a really pretty garden!” 

Her voice took on an excited note, and he felt his eye twitch as she began rambling about the dream. Oh. She was veering towards the more typical annoying child behaviors now, wasn’t she? Perhaps the familiarity over the three days together had made her comfortable enough to let down her guard a bit, and behave like a normal child. He tuned out her high-pitched squeaking a bit as he gazed at the flowers, waiting for her to finish...

...That was actually an eyeball, wasn’t it?

His sagging posture snapped straight with alertness, interest firmly renewed. Originally he’d thought it was a daisy because of the petals, but upon closer examination he realized that the circle in the center had a bright green ring around a black smudge. An iris and pupil, possibly modeled on a demon’s eye rather than human since it lacked white sclera.

That prompted him to scrutinize the rest of the flowers more closely, noting a few more also had eyeballs instead of seed clusters. Others lacked the eyeball but had long, crooked petals, which after a bit of thought he supposed were meant to be fingers. Probably. Nixx’s skills left much to be desired.

“Ah, yes, terrific work, darling!” he praised, cutting off her still-ongoing ramble. “You have quite the vivid imagination! A word of advice, you may wish to let the paint dry a bit before drawing on top of it with other colors. The colors smear together and lose that crisp edge, like here.” He tapped next to one of the eyeball-flowers, the red pupil dripping and mixing with the yellow beneath it to become more of a blob than a pupil.

The advice had Nixx pause and tilt her head consideringly before nodding. “Okay.” She then grabbed a tube and sprayed a regal shade of purple onto one of the plates, wiping her fingers on her dress before dipping them into it.

Alastor admittedly cringed at that and subtly stepped back. The girl’s dress looked filthy with all those colors smeared across it, and he briefly wondered how she’d get all that paint out of her fur. None of it was his problem though. “I’ll just leave you to it then. I have an appointment to keep. Toodle-loo, Nixx!”

“Bye-bye, Alastor!” she chirped, smiling up at him even as she drew oval petals. He quickly departed before she could get the idea to use him to wipe her hands, a jaunty tune playing as he resumed his journey. Perhaps later he’d bring Husk by to show him the proof that Nixx was fine, and enjoy the old cat’s reaction as he realized the grisly nature of the garden she’d drawn.

Or maybe she’d find Husker first. Alastor had made a point to point out the building where the cat lived before dropping her off, not that he informed Husk of that. If she did, would he be trying to hide his relief at seeing her at the next meeting, or just jump straight to yelling at him for telling her that? Either reaction would be so entertaining!

In the end, the urge to find out how Husker would react to news of Nixx won out. Alastor summoned him the very next day, ostensibly to help deal with some pests too weak for Alastor to waste his own energy on. The sour look he got when Husk appeared beside him made it clear the feline understood it was another excuse, but the promise of alcohol afterwards minimized any complaints.

Actually, Alastor was glad he’d been looking for excuses to summon the crusty feline recently or the thought wouldn’t have crossed his mind. The hooligans had been spraying graffiti on the walls outside his radio tower, a couple of newer sinners who didn’t believe the tales of the Radio Demon’s power. Ordinarily he would remind them himself, as that was a very personal slight, but then he had the passing thought of summoning Husk and realized that would be far more entertaining.

Losing to the Radio Demon was one thing. Losing to a washed-out fallen overlord with an alcohol dependency would absolutely obliterate what little pride they had!

And obliterate their pride it did. It took Husk a bit more effort than Alastor to defeat the pair, but to be fair he could defeat most foes with a literal snap of the finger. Even without the strength he’d possessed as an overlord, Husker was no slouch. He dispatched his foes within five minutes, left only a little roughed up with only minor cuts and bruises while the fools were left in pieces.

Granted, the pieces part came after Husk managed to blow up their chests with explosive cards. He would’ve left it at just the hollowed chest cavities if not for Alastor’s order.

“Your taste in decor still leaves a lot to be desired, boss,” he grumbled as he mounted their heads on pikes outside the tower at Alastor’s direction.

“Yes, it is a bit tacky compared to my usual,” Alastor agreed with a lofty shrug. “But sometimes, the riffraff need a reminder to keep their grubby paws away from my tower.” A snap had Niffty appear in a flash of flames, the cyclops blinking and looking around excitedly.

“Oh, oh! I haven’t been called here in a long time!” Her gaze landed upon Husk and she lit up even more, waving at him excitedly. “Hi Husk! Long time no see, except I guess it hasn’t been that long. You look like you need a bath,” she added in an almost factual tone. “Your fur looks all dirty and bloody and gross!”

“Gee, I had no idea, thanks,” the cat said dryly, looking even more exhausted in the face of Niffty’s energy.

Amusing as it was to watch their dynamic, Alastor decided to take some pity on his feline friend. “Niffty, darling, do be a dear and help clean up this mess,” he said with an arm wave towards the wall, redirecting her attention to the graffiti marring it. She let out a horrified gasp, hands flying over her mouth.

“Ooh! Those walls are so dirty! And those drawings aren’t even that good! That just won’t do!” She skittered over, a selection of her preferred cleaning supplies already waiting courtesy of one of his shadow minions. Her little comment on the graffiti just reminded Alastor of why he had summoned Husk in the first place.

“Husker, let’s go inside for that drink I promised,” he said while she got to work, and the cat obliged with a grumble. Alastor slipped into his shadows to warp right to the broadcasting room at the top of the tower, preparing a glass and bottle of whiskey for when Husk arrived. He even summoned a second chair for the other man, since he usually didn’t have guests to necessitate keeping one around.

Contrary to what many believed, Alastor did not live in his tower. His true home was elsewhere, the location a secret because he’d get so many annoying pests otherwise. As such, the broadcast room didn’t need more than the barest essentials and had little in the way of furniture outside his broadcast equipment. It wasn’t like he ever had living guests to worry about (at least, not for long). Frankly, it was a kindness he even bothered adding a trapdoor.

Alastor himself sat in his own chair at the soundboard, facing a wall of windows overlooking red skies with his own empty wine glass. All the walls were glass, giving a full panoramic view of Hell, but at the moment the others had the shutters sealing them. Easier to defend that way, and having just one window added to the mood a bit. As he nonchalantly summoned a shadow minion to fetch him a drink, he heard the trapdoor open behind him to signal Husk’s arrival.

“Husker, take a seat!” he said without looking his way, and heard faint grumbling as Husk trudged over. His minion returned with a bottle full of blood, and Alastor heard the pop of a cork behind him to signal Husk filling his own glass. A light kick had his chair spinning to face his minion, finding the cat had sunk into the chair and was already chugging his first glass.

Between the fight and ascending the many flights of stairs, Husk looked a bit rough for the wear. Small cuts littered his body, nothing serious but bits of his own blood mixing with that of his foes. His fur was even more ruffled and unkempt than usual, his wings also in need of a good preening. His hands were particularly messy after sawing up the bodies, his pants splattered with dark stains.

It briefly occurred to Alastor that perhaps he should have first sent the feline to take a bath like Niffty suggested, but no matter. He sipped from his wineglass and waited for Husk to do the same with his own drink before doing what he did best, make conversation. “I saw Nixx yesterday,” he remarked casually.

He’d hoped to make the cat choke on his drink, but no dice. Husk jolted a little bit, but he didn’t react with the amount of surprise and alarm Alastor had expected, just raised one finger for him to wait as he finished his sip. “Yeah?” he rasped out. “What was she doing?”

“She was painting the most delightful garden scene on a storefront!” Alastor recounted with glee. “Daisies with eyeballs for seeds, little finger-petals! I couldn’t stay for very long, but when I went back later I found she’d added some more that had toes or thumbs.” At least, he assumed that’s why those petals were round with little circles near the tips; they were probably meant to be nails. Probably. Again, her art required some creative interpretation. “I should’ve taken a picture to show you, she’s quite the little artist!”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Husk muttered wryly with a small snort, and that... made Alastor pause. That wasn’t the reaction he expected at all, that tone and small curl to his lip spoke of familiarity with Nixx’s art skills. And he knew Nixx had not drawn once at his home.

“Oh?” he asked. His grin widened as he set aside his glass, leaning forward expectantly with his full attention on his servant. “Have you seen her since we last met? Why didn’t you tell me, Husker?”

Husk barely reacted to the mock-accusation or the weight of his master’s full scrutiny, just casually refilled his glass. “I only saw her two nights ago, day before yesterday. Pretty sure I know exactly where she got those paints.”

Alastor perked up. That was a deliciously ominous statement! “Do tell, my friend! I was so curious but didn’t have time to ask!”

Husk huffed and rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to respond before pausing and thinking to himself. “Actually, know what? No.”

The blunt refusal had Alastor’s head bend to the side with a snap. “No?” Static slowly crescendoed in the air, his grin sharp and unmoving as his pupils flickered into dials. “Did you say no? Are you refusing to tell me?”

The intimidating display, the taste of his power, had some instant effect, Husk’s fur visibly standing on end and tail curling closer around his legs. However, his face didn’t reflect that fear beyond a slight clench of his jaw, his tone almost bored as he spoke. “I could tell you... Or you could go see for yourself.”

That was enough to make Alastor reel in his power, the air losing the tension in an instant. “See for myself?” he repeated, head inclined at a more natural angle. Curiosity won out over his ire at the insubordination and defiance, recognizing it as a bit of the cat’s own brand of showmanship. Husk was not one for theatrical displays, his own wit more dry compared to Alastor’s, but he had his moments.

“Apartment 418, at the building with the green awning on Blood Drive,” he rattled off. “I doubt anyone’s cleaned up the place yet. I can try to describe it if you want, but there’s no way I can do as good of a job as seeing it with your own eyes.”

Even more ominous! Truly wonderful.

“Well, with a setup like that, it must be something to behold!” Alastor exclaimed. “Blood Drive is a bit of a walk from here, but you’ve set my expectations quite high. I hope it doesn’t disappoint me.” He kept his tone jovial and friendly, not needing to inject any sinister intonations to get the hidden message across: if he considered it to be a waste of his time, there would be consequences.

Either Husker didn’t pick up on the message—highly unlikely with how long they’d known each other—or he was utterly confident. He just refilled his glass and squinted at the bottle as he gave it a light shake, the little remaining alcohol sloshing around. “Maybe leave another bottle, and I’ll explain what I saw after ya get back.”

Preemptively asking for a reward meant he was very confident. Now Alastor’s expectations were very high, a risky gamble if they weren’t met. “I’m sure I’ll be back before that bottle runs out, Husker. If I’m satisfied, maybe then I’ll give you a second one.”

Husk just grunted and shrugged, throwing back his drink while Alastor rose to his feet. He let himself slip into the shadows, zipping down the ladder and across the city for Blood Drive. He had no idea what he’d find there, but surely it would be interesting.

Chapter Text

It had been late at night, the sky tinted more violet than red as Husk shuffled down a mostly empty road. Usually by this hour he would be holed up at a bar well into his third drink of the night, but tonight he got a late start. He’d spent most of the day running errands for Niffty because she got caught up in one of her cleaning frenzies. He’d barely finished lunch when he got the call full of near-incoherent screeching.

Technically he didn’t have to help, but he knew Alastor would be pissed if he found out Husk knew about the frenzy and did nothing. So he had hauled himself over to her place, and spent the afternoon running all over town to restock on everything as she ran through her stock. The little cyclops would get killed by her neighbors twice over for all the shrieking she would do if she ran out of cleaning supplies midway through. 

By the time she finally calmed, night had fallen and he was too tired to go to his usual haunts. So now he trudged along an unfamiliar street in search of a decent bar, tail dragging on the road tiredly and his back sore from the weight of his wings.

His eyes scanned the signs and facades with an attention accrued from decades of drinking, searching for some place that wasn’t too shitty but also not obnoxiously ritzy. He kept an ear open, too, listening to the comments of the few passing demons—particularly those unsteady on their feet—for hints of where to go. Already he’d managed to dismiss one option based on overheard drunken complaints about some frat boy party, and he used his keen eye to further narrow his options.

More nightclub than bar, he noted of one bar with a cluster of scantily clad demons heading for the door. Too exclusive, he thought of another with a bouncer outside by the door. No, he thought of one with a freaking butt on the sign. That might turn him off full moons for a long time, not that he often ordered cocktails.

In the end, he settled on a place with a neon sign saying Rita’s in red lettering that harkened back to 50’s diners. The aesthetic continued inside, checkerboard tile floors and booths and barstools with bright red upholstery. Tacky and way too thematic for his tastes, but honestly the best option he could find here. Luckily the atmosphere seemed more subdued than obnoxiously upbeat despite the decor, the customers all keeping to themselves.

He dragged himself to the counter and onto one of the bright red stools, where he was greeted by a bartender wearing one of those classic apron uniforms. She was even a poodle, a perfect fit for the place. “Well you’re a new face,” she said dryly. Thank fuck she wasn’t leaning into the aesthetic by being all perky, he’d go mad.

“Just hit me with whatever ya got, I ain’t picky as long as it’s cheap.” She nodded and turned around to mess with the soda fountain, which was stocked with more booze than soda or ice cream. As he waited he absently listened to the chatter of the nearby demons, not really having anything else to do.

“...episode was shit. I think I’m done with that show, hope Vox replaces it with something actually decent...”

“...then Dave from accounting got all up in my face—seriously, fuck that guy—”

“...had to pay those stupid imps so damn much, but it was worth it for a chance to kill that bastard down here ...”

“...that idiot was talking about challenging an Overlord, bet he won’t last five seconds ...”

He stopped listening when a glass was slammed in front of him, some amber-colored liquid he didn’t care to observe long enough to identify before throwing it back. “One of those days?” the bartender guessed, not that she sounded like she particularly cared. That dry tone seemed to be her default.

“Nah, just tired and sore. I’m not gonna whine to ya like a baby, so no worries.” She nodded and moved on as another person sat next to him, apparently content to have one less customer to babysit. A good thing, since the new arrival—some sort of monkey guy, maybe—looked particularly twitchy and nervous.

“The usual, Boone?” she asked, already turning to the soda fountain.

“Y-yeah, need it. Don’t wanna think tonight no more, no more, no more...” He shook his head, one foot bouncing nervously while he pulled at his hair-like fluff. The bartender deposited a glass and bottle on the counter before him, turning around to grab something else. The guy ignored the glass and went straight for the bottle, fumbling to pull out the cork and drink straight from it.

Even Husk had to arch an eyebrow at the desperation of the motion; he inhaled the alcohol like it was air, like he needed it to survive. The bartender had a particularly surly curl to her lip as she watched him down half the bottle in one go, a corkscrew uselessly waiting in her hand.

She set it down on the counter, her expression filled with distaste. “Shit, don’t tell me, it’s the artist?” she muttered. He gave a muffled noise of affirmation and nodded, still drinking, and she cursed some more.

“Uh, should I be worried?” Husk felt the need to ask. Usually someone drinking like that meant they’d seen something particularly fucked up, and he needed to know if there were any threats in the area.

“Nah, you’re fine,” she snorted. “You’re a bit outside the artist’s tastes in models.”

Boone slammed the bottle on the countertop and looked at her with equal parts desperation, anger and horror. “Don’t even joke about that! The guy’s a fucking sicko!”

“Boone, there’s gonna be creeps down here. That fucker’s too strong for us to beat, all we can do is joke about it or we’ll go mad.”

They’d said enough for Husk to figure out the context, feeling his own lip curl with disgust. “Hold on, don’t tell me you’re talking about a pedo?” he asked. Revulsion filled him just from saying the word, his feathers and bristling.

Boone made a miserable sound as he scrambled to chug down more booze. “Nothing sexual, thank Satan, or we would’ve thrown that bastard to the angels by now,” the bartender huffed. “But he’s still a real creep, likes to paint people he kills—and he especially likes them young. Has this whole thing where he invites them to his apartment to model, shows them his work, and waits for them to realize what he likes painting before going in for the kill.”

Yeah, the guy sounded like a real sicko alright. The only mercy was that he only bothered with killing, but that didn’t make it much better. Husk had always loathed people who targeted children, he’d taken out a few freaks back in his overlord days. That feeling had amplified since meeting Nixx. It wasn’t like he’d actually gotten to know any other kids before, so now he had a face to associate with this stuff, it was even more disgusting.

A miserable whine drew his attention to Boone, shaking the bottle to confirm it was already empty. “This one was so young,” he groaned as he slammed it on the counter. “I just—fuck, I tried to stop them, but he kept cutting me off. And then she just freaking smiled and patted me and said it was okay! Said I seemed nice! I—” He cut himself off as he pulled at his hair again, curling up on the stool with tail wrapping around his legs. “Fuck, she had to be the youngest sinner I’ve ever seen!”

Dread suddenly pooled in Husk’s gut, icy and cold. Maybe it was just because she had been on his mind a lot these days, but his mind latched onto the words. Hoping against hope he was wrong, he forced himself to ask, “Was the kid a purple bat girl?”

The startled and horrified look Boone shot him confirmed his worst fears.

“Apartment 418,” the bartender said sharply. “Top floor, that brown building with the green awning. Go left from the front door, it’s a block down. Don’t worry about the bill, just go.”

Husk barely let her finish before jumping off the stool and racing for the door, earlier exhaustion forgotten. The second he stepped into the night he spread his wings and kicked off the ground, speeding through the air. 

The demon known as the artist had an appearance befitting his moniker. Bristly dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail, the end tinted yellow like a recently dipped paintbrush. A rainbow of spots spattering his gray cheeks beneath his eyes like freckles. His gray painter’s smock was naturally also smeared with all sorts of colors, an assortment accrued over years of painting.

Rust brown was the most prominent, most of it courtesy of the deep gash splitting his torso open beneath the garment.

Dried blood crested his throat like a necklace, torn flesh revealing rotting muscle. Viscera had been smeared across the floor around his body, discolored organs adding a splash of extra color to the gory mess. It had of course attracted plenty of flies, the buzz of their wings a low hum in the otherwise silent apartment. Tarps had been set up in one corner to contain any bloodshed, but unfortunately his death had occurred more in the center of the apartment.

Alastor’s nose wrinkled as he stood in the doorway, taking in the view away from the mass of flies that had taken residence in the apartment. Death was far from unfamiliar to the Radio Demon, even back in life, but usually he only saw the aftermath while relatively fresh. This scene most definitely wasn’t. Bodies did decompose down here, making the eventual knitting together of flesh that came with revival all the more agonizing. This corpse had, unfortunately, progressed quite far.

The odor alone told him no one else lived on this floor, or this mess would’ve been cleaned up long ago.

Part of him was annoyed at Husker for sending him here after it had time to get to this point. Another part was morbidly curious though, and he let that morbid curiosity guide him through the door, giving the rotting body a wide berth. He tore his gaze from the revolting sight to look around, head tilting in contemplation as he studied the paintings hung on the walls.

In terms of technical skill, they were underwhelming. Crude and unpolished, a hint of natural talent peeking through with the color choices, but those colors just gave a pretty film to otherwise unremarkable work. The artist had no specific style, seeming to aim for realism but lacking the skill to achieve their vision with the anatomy. Both external and internal, some of the bodies sliced open to expose innards that Alastor could identify mainly due to his own diet.

The painted blood was admittedly quite eye-catching though. Crimson so bright and vibrant it was almost pink, popping out against the pallid skin and exposed muscles of the depicted corpses.

Yes, this was the work of a serial killer who wanted to document their work in a more expressive medium than photos. One whose tastes in victims skewed quite young, making his fingers curl tighter around his microphone cane. Green flames erupted and consumed the paintings as Alastor turned away, leaving nothing but empty frames and piles of ash behind.

His expression darkened as he surveyed the room once more, eyes only briefly flickering to the corpse. One of those painted bodies resembled the corpse before him, at least in terms of the cut down the middle. Looks like the painter’s work had inspired someone after all. Besides that, the discoloration of the organs pulled from his body also caught his attention. Alastor’s gaze didn’t linger long though, the flies buzzing around spoiling his appetite for once.

His gaze skipped upwards, and he found himself perking up when it landed upon the opposite wall. His head tilted to the side once more, considering. Then he extended his hands and summoned an old-fashioned camera, snapping a quick photograph for posterity. Photography was not a favored pastime of his, but he would prefer to inspect this scene without the putrid stench of rotten meat distracting him.

Husker had implied it would be interesting, and the old cat had been more right than he had likely realized.

Having seen enough, he melded back into his shadow to return to his tower. Along the way he briefly stopped to grab an extra bottle of one of his more favored moonshines, and emerged behind Husk’s chair to place it on the table.

The clink of glass against wood had the feline jump in his seat, fur standing straight up and eyes wide as his wings briefly flared. His head snapped to the side to find Alastor leaning forward with a placid smile, wicked amusement visible in his eyes. The close proximity got another jump from him.

“Shit! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Husk rubbed his chest with a grumble as he sank back into the chair, visibly trying to calm himself. Alastor just casually strolled around him, reclaiming his original seat and facing the other with hands politely folded atop his lap.

“You know, Husker, I think you were right,” he said pleasantly. “It really was worth seeing it with my own eyes rather than just listening to a description, even if it did spoil my appetite a bit. I’d still like to hear your account though.” Husk stared at him a moment longer, still a bit shaken, but sighed and slowly relaxed as he reached for the bottle.

“Yeah, figured as much,” he muttered, pausing to inspect the label. His ears perked up and his eyes widened, the only tell of his surprise and pleasure. While he always frowned, Alastor had found his ears and tail to be a pretty good indicator of his true feelings. Husk relaxed a bit further as he uncorked it and poured it into his empty glass. “I went bar-hopping and some guy came in talking about seeing a weird serial killer who liked to paint his victims. They called him the artist.”

“Yes, I saw some of his works. His taste in models seemed a bit... unripe for my tastes.” Static tinged the last bit, Alastor’s smile becoming a little more strained and eyes narrowing. He may not have a soft spot for children, but he didn’t approve of targeting them either. He may need to pay the man another visit after he revived.

“They mentioned that, but I didn’t bother looking at any of the paintings,” Husk grumbled. “Was a bit distracted by... everything else.” He shook his head, throwing back his glass as if it were cheap booze instead of something nice. A rare lack of appreciation for a particularly fine drink from the cat demon, who had a certain respect for different drinks despite his alcoholic tendencies.

Alastor could speculate on why. “Was he already dead, or did you arrive in time to see it?” he pressed, and got a grumbling sigh in response as Husk refilled his glass once more. This time he didn’t throw it back, taking his time to savor the taste for the rare treat it was.

“His throat was already split open by the time I walked in,” he confirmed briskly. “No clue how she did it with the height difference. But when I opened the door, well...”

Even if the elevator doors in the empty lobby weren’t slightly cracked apart instead of fully shut (that thing couldn’t be safe), Husk would have skipped them for the stairwell anyway. A beat of his wings propelled him upwards and he ascended to the top within seconds. Small blessings, the fourth floor didn’t have a door, just a beat-up doorway opening straight into the hall.

Husk dove through it and flew down the halls without touching down, grateful he didn’t have to waste precious seconds stopping to open the door. This hall looked even more rundown than his own crappy building, some of the doors broken or outright missing and more than a few light bulbs burnt out.

He barely noticed though, his attention focused on the all-too familiar iron scent in the air.

His stomach churned as he pushed himself to fly even faster, not bothering to even look at the number plates. He had been in Hell for way too long to try to lie to himself under the guise of optimism that it came from some other apartment. No, the only thing he could hope for was that the freshness of the scent meant he wasn’t too late.

As he neared the apartment where the smell originated he didn’t slow down, veering his body to the side to crash his full weight into the door. It slammed open under the force of the impact, Husk tumbling inside but his feline body provided enough grace to land on his feet.

“Nixx!” he yelled, and then went silent as he took in the sight, his heart nearly stopping in horror.

Bloodshed rarely bothered him at this point. He had seen all sorts of death in Hell, it was hard to go a single block in some areas without encountering a corpse or two. Even the sight of someone rooting through a corpse hardly disturbed him, especially after losing his soul to the cannibalistic Radio Demon.

What stopped him this time was the aura of menace hanging in the air, a tension so thick it felt almost physically present.

The body was fresh, the pool of spilled blood under it still slowly growing. It stained Nixx’s feet and tail as she crouched by the corpse with her arms elbow-deep in the guy’s open chest. Her head snapped towards Husk when he entered and for a moment he didn’t recognize her, her fur more red than lavender with all the blood that had splattered onto her.

She looked demented and wicked even with her expression blank, her eyes glowing with dark blotches swirling within. It felt like staring into a void, those dark flecks staining and dirtying what crimson light could be found beneath it.

Then her face lit up with a brilliant smile and the dark spots vanished, raising blood-stained hands towards him with glee. “Husker!”

“Kid was just rooting around his freaking torso with her bare hands. She’d been using his blood to draw on the walls and had gone back for more. Gave her a bath on the spot. In another apartment of course,” he added with a snort. “Luckily all of them were empty. Guess no one wants to live near a freak like that. Tried to get her to leave with me afterwards, but she said she wanted to stay there and keep painting.”

“And you actually let her?” Alastor asked teasingly. “How irresponsible of you, Husker.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Husk snorted with an eye roll. “Like you’d do anything different. At that point I just dropped it and went back to the bar, told them the guy was dead and Nixx was fine. Bartender ended up giving me a couple free rounds for offing the creep, so that tells you how people felt about him. I didn’t feel like telling them what really went down.”

“So you didn’t see him die?” Alastor mused. “Are you certain that Nixx—”

“Yes.” Husk didn’t even let him finish the question, his tone blunt and his gaze flat as he stared at Alastor fearlessly. “Boss, have you seen her show a lick of her full demon form yet?”

Alastor made a show of tapping his chin with a thoughtful hum. “No, I don’t believe I have. I take it that you caught a glimpse of it when you arrived?”

“Just a bit, no transformation beyond her eyes getting all dark and swirly. But that chill that ran up my spine when we made eye contact—” He scoffed bitterly and shook his head, claws curling around his glass. “I’ve faced Overlords that didn’t freak me out that bad. Felt like I was some tiny weak animal staring at a predator despite being over twice her size. I’ve got no clue what sort of powers she has, but I’m willing to bet they’re strong.”

He punctuated his point by sipping his drink, leaving Alastor to stew on the weight of his words. Such a claim was not to be taken lightly when it came from Husker; he was quite a good judge of character, it was one of the reasons Alastor had been drawn to him in the first place. Reading people was a skill that took years to hone, and Husk was a rare case who didn’t develop that skill for purely manipulative purposes. He understood people, in a way that Alastor never would. And even without that, he had good instincts.

If mere eye contact was enough to give him the impression of being prey, Nixx was likely quite strong indeed. And Alastor already had one suspicion of her potential capabilities from the scene he’d found.

After a long moment Husk finished drinking and set down his glass, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Actually, strike that. I do have one idea of her powers.”

“Oh? Do tell!” Alastor leaned forward expectantly, wondering if he’d somehow picked up on the same detail he had.

“I think she can sense people’s intentions.”

That would be a no, then, but intriguing nonetheless. “You mean whether they mean to do her harm?”

“Yeah. It’s just a hunch for now, but that guy at the bar mentioned she’d told him that it was okay. Like, reassuring him or some shit. It’s been stuck in my head, and I’m thinking she knew that artist creep had bad intentions when she followed him.”

“And thus marked him as prey,” Alastor finished with a delighted grin. “She hid her fangs behind a veneer of innocence to get closer to her prey, letting him think he had the upper hand for the element of surprise. An ambush predator! She really does have a knack for murder, doesn’t she?”

“Unfortunately,” Husk grumbled, sour as ever. “It would explain why she was willing to sleep in front of us instead of hiding out. She knew we didn’t want to do anything to her, so she saw us at safe.” Pausing, he snorted and amended with a rare smirk, “Except when it came to food.”

Alastor barked out a laugh, both at the memory of her protective tendencies towards her meals as well as joy at unraveling part of the puzzle. If true, it could explain everything! A child like Nixx couldn’t survive on their own in Hell without some caution, and she had seemed a tad too quick to trust them. But if she could sense people’s intentions, and thus knew neither of them bore her ill will, then it made sense.

Alternatively, it could also be that she was just childishly confident in her own abilities to defend herself. Children were far from immune to pride; they tended to believe themselves to be invincible far more than adults. He’d have to observe her further to determine which option it was.

Another thought had him chuckle again, his smile taking a more sly slant. “You know Husker, I’d say you left quite a good impression on her anyway,” he said in a teasing tone, which instantly set the cat on edge.

“What do you mean?” he asked warily. Suspicious old coot, always on guard whenever Alastor showed joy. And quite reasonably so, too.

“Perhaps you should go to the apartment and see for yourself,” Alastor sang. “In fact, you will go to the apartment.” Authority dripped from his words, making it clear this was a direct order.

Husk grimaced, ears flattening as his fur fluffed up with unease. “Fuck, I’m gonna need another drink after this, aren’t I?”

“Hmm, perhaps!” Alastor chirped cheerfully. It was only fair that Husker got to see the decomposing corpse since he’d sent Alastor there with no warning, even if it hadn’t been fully intentional. There was no way he could know about the state of decomposition.

“...Fine.” Husk forced himself to get up with a tired sigh, looking rather put out at the prospect of crossing Pentagram City to get to the apartment. He shuffled towards the trapdoor with a sigh, and Alastor couldn’t help himself.

“Oh, one last thing Husker,” he called lightly, making his servant freeze. “I expect you to report back afterwards with your thoughts.”

If looks could kill, Alastor would be dead ten times over from the nasty glower Husk sent him. Perhaps in the past he would have argued, but this time he just offered Alastor a silent middle finger before stalking down the trapdoor. The Radio Demon just cheerfully waved him off, spinning his chair around to look out the window. Soon enough he saw Husk’s hunched form trudging down the sidewalk, already sullen of the long journey.

Once he vanished from sight Alastor leaned back, his shadow rising from the ground to refill his wineglass with blood while he waited. The round trip should take probably an hour or two, plenty of time to play some music and unwind. Already he looked forward to seeing his reaction. Once Husk got over gagging at the rotting corpse, Alastor thought he might appreciate the other remnant Nixx left.

Before using the man’s paints on the streets, Nixx had first dabbled with his blood. Husk had seen at least some of those drawings before leaving, but he hadn’t seen the final work. Scribbles and smears sprawled across one wall, some of them formless lines and shapes, and others crude attempts to recreate some of the paintings he’d burnt. Her wings had allowed her to get pretty high, some of the lines extending to the ceiling.

What had spurred Alastor to take a photograph of the work for later examination, though, were her attempts to draw himself and Husker. The depictions had been laughable, Husk’s ears more like horns and Alastor’s jagged grin taking up half the circle that served as his face. The scale had also been wildly off, with Husk’s head twice as large as his body. Once Alastor had the photograph developed, he imagined he’d find even more amusing flaws he’d missed in his original cursory examination.

Still, the fact she drew them at all denoted Nixx felt a certain fondness for them. He thought that sentiment might just move Husker, and deepen his own fondness for the girl. Which meant more entertainment for Alastor!

That said, there was one other detail he was even more curious to see if Husk would notice and remark upon: the body.

Sure, Husk had seen it when it was still fresh, but now that it had time to decompose—well, that was another matter altogether. One of the few mercies when it came to the pain that accompanied revival in Hell was that decomposition was slow compared to Earth. Rotting organs and flesh took longer to heal itself after all; sometimes they’d still be recovering after the body mended itself. Walking around with half-decayed lungs tended to be pretty rough, or so Alastor had heard.

The organs spilled around the artist’s body had rotted far faster than he’d expect from just two days though. He had gotten glimpses of how organs decayed over time at the Cannibal Colony, so he knew that particular discoloration indicated a rather advanced stage. He didn’t have a solid number, but he’d estimate it should take about... a week, maybe? Usually Rosie threw them out when they got that bad because they were well beyond spoiled.

The demon would be in absolute agony as he came back to life. Given the context of how Husker stumbled across this scene, Alastor had even less sympathy than usual.

Still, the more important takeaway was this:

Nixx had done something to the organs, and he looked forward to seeing more of her power.

Chapter Text

Life continued, as it does. Weeks passed with Alastor continuing his usual routines: he cooked, did broadcasts, attended an Overlord meeting to listen to two dunderheads argue over territories for two hours, had brunch with Rosie. Typical business, really, the mundanity of it almost downright pleasant. And a bit boring at times.

It gave Alastor plenty of free time to ponder the nature of Nixx’s powers.

The putrid stench of rot and decay still haunted his thoughts at times, unable to banish the memory. He’d even gone to the Cannibal Colony to ask Rosie for some less-than-choice organs he intentionally allowed to spoil, just to make sure he didn’t misremember the decomposition rate. His little experiment confirmed that somehow she’d sped up the process, and also that he could lose his appetite from the stench of rotten meat.

Since then he had yet to see anything similar though. Nixx rarely bothered cutting open the bodies she either found or created, lacking interest in their organs or blood. At most, he saw her using a stick to drag someone’s intestines along the ground in varying shapes like it were string, but that person’s innards had already been spilled by another person.

Observation told him the little dear actually didn’t like messing with gore beyond what she deemed necessary. Boredom alone didn’t seem to be enough to justify touching it despite using that artist’s blood to paint in the past.

Alastor had to admit, it took a shamefully long time to realize why. And it came with outside assistance.

The shrill ring of his telephone one evening had caught him by surprise, the sharp noise drawing an involuntary flinch as his claws dug into his book. Contrary to what some picture-headed buffoons would claim, he wasn’t adverse to all forms of technology. Telephones had been in existence in his lifetime after all, and he’d naturally equipped his home in Hell with a rotary telephone. Few had been given the number, and even fewer would dare call it.

The ear-piercing ringing cut off as he traded his book for the handset. “Hello?” he greeted, pondering if he would need to speak with this person about interrupting his reading time.

“It’s Husk,” came a familiar voice, tone sounding even flatter than usual. “Did you tell Nixx where I live?”

Alastor perked up, good mood restored. “Ah, so she finally stopped by? I was wondering if she ever would! I’m impressed she still remembered the way, I showed her back after the Extermination.”

“You showed her—yeah, no, never mind, don’t care.” The cat cut off his own outrage with a grumble. “Yeah, she’s here now. No clue how she got in, because I know I locked the damn door, but she was already inside when I got here. And we’ve got a problem.”

“Whatever could be wrong?” Alastor teased. “Unhappy you can’t tip a few with a child around?” His mocking tone hid a note of curiosity. He’d expected Husk to keep any visits from Nixx to himself, not call Alastor up to complain and further expose his poorly-hidden care for the girl.

“No, I can go a night without drinking,” Husk huffed. “Wasn’t planning on it tonight anyway. Because Niffty’s here too.”

That bit of news gave Alastor pause. “I’ll be there shortly,” he said, and didn’t wait for a response before hanging up and dropping into his shadows.

Alastor was quite fond of Niffty. He made no secret of this fact, finding her twisted little mind and enthusiasm just so endlessly amusing. His days had been considerably brighter since taking her under his wing, not that they had been dull before. Her sadistic streak had a sunny edge to it, gleefully manic in her malice compared to most who preferred to scheme or plot. She was quite childlike for a woman who’d died at the adult age of 22.

Amusingly, those traits made her almost the opposite of the actual child Nixx.

He arrived at Husker’s drab apartment to find the little cyclops running in circles in the living room, waving her arms and clearly agitated. Each frantic step stirred up little puffs of dust, the floor a downright mess that would usually set her off. This time she barely paid it any mind though, her attention focused on the ceiling fan above her. A glance upwards revealed Nixx clinging to the slowly rotating blades as if her life depended on it, squinting down at Niffty and hissing.

Neither noticed Alastor emerge from the shadows beside Husk just off to the side. Husk himself barely reacted beyond a flick of the ear, just watching the scene with a bored expression while sipping at some drink with a bendy pink straw. It appeared he was willing to forego his earlier vow to avoid alcohol, but Alastor could hardly fault him. Any good show benefitted from some sort of treat. 

“Get down from there!” Niffty shrieked, bouncing and waving at the fans in an attempt to grab at her. “You’re so dirty!”

“No!” Nixx hissed, wings flapping threateningly. The gesture only served to disturb the dust coating the top of the blades, sending some new clouds drifting down. Niffty released a gradually rising keening sound not unlike a tea kettle as the dust fell around her, leaping around in explosive bursts of rage.

“STOP DOING THAT!”

Nixx just hissed in reply, the sound cut off by her own coughing from all the dust.

Alastor observed from the sideline with Husk for a moment. “How long has this been going on?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“About ten minutes,” the cat replied equally quietly. “Started the second we walked in, Nixx was already here and Niffty just went crazy.” Alastor hummed, watching Niffty scurry away to drag a stool over beneath the fan. She climbed atop it and tried to jump, but her little arms still fell far short of the fan. Another unearthly screech sounded as she kicked the stool over and resumed running in circles.

“I hardly see why this is a problem. This is the most entertainment I’ve had in weeks!”

“It’d be a lot more entertaining if they weren’t tearing up my furniture.” As if on cue Niffty produced a knife and tried to throw it at Nixx. The little girl deftly blocked it with a beat of her wings, the resulting gust sending both dust and the blade plummeting down. The knife diverted to hit the couch, joining two other blades, while the dust showered on a shrieking Niffty.

“Yes, I do see how that could be an issue,” Alastor allowed. Husker hardly cared enough about anything to replace the furniture he had, as evidenced by its already beat-up state. He would probably just remove the knives from the couch and continue using it, even with stuffing already popping out of the cushions.

Alastor didn’t really care that much either, but he knew the feline sometimes fell asleep on it. And a bad night’s sleep could hinder his ability to follow orders.

So for that reason, he decided to intervene. “Girls, could you stop for a moment?” he called. His voice made them both snap their heads towards him, each yelling his name and lunging at him. Niffty hurtled towards his legs, while Nixx took flight to dive at him from above.

Before either could make contact his shadow sprung up to catch them both by the backs of their dresses, preventing them from soiling his suit with dust. Niffty pouted in disappointment and crossed her arms but otherwise hung there limply, used to such handling. Nixx, meanwhile, immediately began thrashing with a low whine of frustration. His shadow moved her a little further away from him as her flailing limbs sent dirt flying.

Now that he could look at her properly, Alastor could see why Niffty had ignored the usual mess in favor of Nixx. Dirt and grime clung to her beneath the newer layers of dust, her lavender fur tinted grayish-brown from all the filth. Flakes of dried blood crusted her fingers and hooves, along with little shreds of flesh and... Was that brain matter on the front of her dress among the bloodstains?

He had seen Nixx relatively dirty before, but never like this. “Nixx, what in the world happened to leave you in such a state?” he inquired, smile bordering on a grimace. She gave one final thrash before going limp in the shadow’s grip with a pout.

“Fell in a hole,” she grumbled, nose wrinkling in distaste. “Feel gross.”

“DIRTY!” Niffty yelled. “DIRTY, DIRTY, DIRTY!” Nixx flashed her fangs at the cyclops as she resumed her thrashing, Niffty matching it with agitated flailing of her own as she tried to grab at the bat child. Whether to stab her or clean her remained to be seen.

Alastor and Husk both took an extra step back away from the splash radius of any dirt thrown around by Nixx. “What kind of hole leaves someone looking like that?” Husk muttered warily.

“I believe she likely fell into a body pit,” Alastor remarked crisply, eliciting a wince and shudder from his companion. Body pits were a somewhat uncommon sight in Hell, since digging a hole for every corpse was a waste of energy given how common they were. Usually bodies and other remains would just be pushed out of sight into an alley or empty building until revival. But sometimes in the event of mass murders, the remains would be gathered and thrown into a pit so they could clean up the area more quickly.

Alastor could easily picture Nixx stumbling upon one and inspecting one a bit too closely in her curiosity, and falling over the edge. Even with wings to allow her to quickly escape, just a few seconds would leave her covered in all sorts of unsavory fluids. Those pits tended to be incredibly messy. Resurrection inside body pits tended to be particularly traumatic from what he’d heard.

Her thrashing ceased, turning a pout towards Husk. “Huskerrrr,” she whined in that plaintive tone of needy children. “I need the water thing!”

“Water thing?” Alastor parroted, head tilting curiously.

“Baths,” Husk translated flatly. “She’s talking about baths. Probably. Oi, wipe that look off your face!” He scowled when Alastor’s head rotated a full 90 degrees to regard him with an absolutely gleeful look. The old cat was learning Nixx’s language quirks! More proof he was getting attached! Oh, Alastor would get lots of fun out of this!

“Yes, a bath!” Niffty screeched. “She needs a bath! She’s too dirty, filthy-filthy-filthy- filthy! She needs to be cleaned, or purged! The dirt needs to be gone!”

She made grabby hands at Nixx who quickly tried to swing away from her. “Stay away! Bad stabby lady, bad stabby lady! Husker, Alastor, help!” Her flailing now had her trying to move towards the two male demons, no doubt intending to hide behind them. Of course, the shadowy hand gripping her dress kept her from getting very far, so she was just wriggling in the air.

Alastor decided to take pity on the little dear. “Niffty, darling, there is no need to be so upset,” he soothed, the cyclops ceasing her attempts to swipe at Nixx to look at him. “We have every intention of seeing Nixx to a bath immediately. And I would appreciate it if you would stop throwing knives at her. Making her bleed would only make her dirtier after all, don’t you think?”

Her cheeks puffed out childishly. “Fine, I’ll stop trying to stab her.” Satisfied by her compliance, his shadow lowered her to the ground. That just made the still-dangling Nixx pout even more, crossing her arms as Niffty pointed up at her. “But sir, who even is she? And why is she here? Why does she get to visit Husk’s place whenever she wants and I don’t!?”

“Husker,” Nixx snapped, leveling her with a glare.

“What?”

“He’s Husker.”

Alastor’s head swiveled back to Husk with another snap, his grin widening as Husk’s scowl deepened. Nixx genuinely thought his name was Husker! This just kept getting better!

“Husker’s a nickname, Nixx,” Husk explained without looking away from his delighted master, meeting the glee with a sour glare. From the corner of his eye Alastor saw Nixx stop glaring at Niffty to tilt her head in confusion.

“What’s a nickname?”

A pause, and then a heavy sigh as Husk broke the stare-off to rub his face. “I really should’ve seen that coming.”

“A nickname is another way to refer to people,” Alastor decided to explain. “Usually it’s a shorter version of their real name.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she considered this new information. “So... Husk is a nickname for Husker?”

Just the conclusion he had hoped for when he’d chosen to explain it the way he had. “You’re such a smart girl!” he praised without confirming or denying that claim, reveling in the glare Husk shot him.

Husk knew what he was doing, Alastor could see his ire at his own delight. This was such an obvious trap, it didn’t even deserve to be called as such. But even knowing that, the cat sighed and spoke up anyway, still feeling the need to try to correct her. “No, my name’s Husk. He’s the main one that calls me Husker.” Because it annoys him, he didn’t say out loud but two out of three adults clearly heard it. Whether Niffty knew and/or cared was up for debate.

“But... Husker is longer?” And Nixx’s confusion continued.

“Yeah, it is!” Niffty agreed, her own face twisting in thought. “Huh, that’s kinda weird. Husk calls me Niff, and that’s shorter than Niffty.”

Nixx nodded, the little gears in her head now visibly turning. “Why is ‘nickname’ longer than ‘name’ if it’s supposed to be shorter?”

That childish question seemed to blow Niffty’s mind, gaping up at the bat child in wide-eyed shock. “I’ve never thought about that! Yeah, that’s weird. Where did the ‘nick’ part come from? Is it from some guy named Nick? And sir, you still haven’t told me who she is,” she added as she turned back to them with a frown. “And why is she allowed to come into Husker’s place when I’m not?”

“Oh, for the love of,” Husk grumbled under his breath before saying more clearly, “Nicknames aren’t always shorter than names. And Niff, don’t call me that. I only let this guy do it,” he hitched a thumb towards Alastor, “because I don’t got a choice. As for Nixx, she’s a kid Alastor found and thinks is entertaining.”

“I suppose proper introductions are a bit overdue at this point,” Alastor mused. “Niffty, this unfortunately dirty little doll is Nixx. She’s a little street urchin I found a bit before the last extermination, and I’ve been keeping an eye out for her ever since. She’s a bit young, you see, and what kind of monster would I be to ignore a child ignorant to the ways of Hell?”

Frankly he’d just be himself, as he’d ignored plenty of other children up until he met Nixx. None of them bothered mentioning that though.

To Nixx he said, “And Nixx, this lovely dear is Niffty. I know she can be a bit intimidating at times, but I’m sure she won’t try to stab you anymore.” Nixx grunted, still eying Niffty suspiciously but no longer looking like she wanted to flee. Perhaps it was because Niffty now showed none of her earlier bloodlust, regarding Alastor with curiosity.

“Oh, did you make a deal with her?” she asked.

“Heavens, no!” he laughed. “It’s far more entertaining to watch her from afar to how she cares on her own. Children are quite rare in Hell after all. It’s a bit of an experiment, you could say.”

“Also for the record, I didn’t let her into my apartment,” Husk piped up. “The boss just told her where I lived. I didn’t even know she knew where I lived until we got home today. Also, no, you’re still not allowed to randomly drop in when I’m not home,” he added when Niffty opened her mouth, making it twist into a scowl.

“But your apartment is so dirty! Just look at it!” She waved her arms at the thick layers of dust coating the floor, alongside the toppled stool and some other toppled furniture. “There’s so much dust and dirt and broken furniture! There’s even pillow stuffing everywhere!”

“Most of that mess was caused by you tonight!”

“Those bottles weren’t!” she huffed, pointing to a collection of empty bottles shoved into the far corner of the room. Husk just glared at her but didn’t try to refute the point. He was many things, but rarely was he a hypocrite.

Amusing as the exchange was, Alastor felt a need to move things along. “We can continue this riveting conversation about Husker’s drinking habits later. First though, I think someone needs a bath quite urgently!”

Nixx perked up and vigorously nodded. “Yeah! Feel gross.” She stuck out her tongue in disgust.

“Alright, then let’s move along to the bathroom!” Alastor proclaimed. “Chop chop!” Nixx squeaked in surprise as his shadow swerved away to carry her towards the bathroom, the two adults following. Before they reach it though Niffty suddenly appeared between them, throwing her arms up to block the door.

“WAIT! You can’t take her in there!”

Well, this was a genuinely unexpected turn of events. “What the—weren’t you the one yelling she needed to get clean?” Husk asked in disbelief. Even Nixx made her displeasure known, resuming her flailing with a frustrated whine.

“Yeah, but she’s a girl,” Niffty said, squinting up at them. “And you’re men. Men can’t give girls baths! It’s just not proper!” Any potential rebuttals about their lack of sinister intentions died on their tongues at that, unable to really argue with her logic about it being improper. Niffty nodded to herself and grinned as she decreed, “I’ll do it instead! I need to get clean too!”

Nixx’s struggles came to an abrupt halt as she froze, her ears flattening and eyes going wide. “Husker,” she whimpered. “Alastor.” Her voice took on the plaintive whine of a child seeking reassurance from their trusted adult figures, turning to them with horror.

On the one hand, Alastor wanted to limit Nixx’s exposure to Niffty. As much as he adored the darling cyclops, her brand of crazy might influence Nixx. Even beyond her... questionable taste in literature, she had a certain sadistic streak he suspected she would try to instill in the little girl. And likely succeed at. Any intimate interactions would alter Nixx’s development the same way his own involvement would, which was the primary reason he kept a bit of distance from Nixx.

On the other hand though, he couldn’t argue that it would be much more appropriate for a woman to bathe a small girl.

Also, he admittedly found Nixx’s desperate look deeply amusing. This was the first time she showed wariness towards another person in his presence.

Mind settled, he regarded the worried child with a gentle smile. “Nixx, you’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “Niffty has already promised not to stab you, and she’s a woman of her word. And she’s right, it’s inappropriate for adult men to see a little girl in a state of undress, especially when there’s another woman present.” His shadow lowered Nixx closer to the ground, but didn’t relinquish its grip just yet in case she tried to run. “So just go along with her and get yourself clean. You keep saying you feel filthy right now, don’t you?”

She frowned and shrunk into herself, but gave a tiny nod. “‘m gross,” she mumbled reluctantly, glancing at Niffty. Niffty gave her a big smile showing off her needle-like teeth. Nixx blinked and shivered before turning back to him, eyes wide with panic. “Alastor—”

“Wonderful!” he cut her off. “Now, off you go!” His shadow used its free hand to yank open the door before tossing Nixx inside, the little bat shrieking in surprise. Niffty giggled in a rising crescendo that morphed into a cackle as she scurried inside after her, quickly pulling the door shut. The last glimpse they saw of Nixx was a look of absolute betrayal.

For a moment the two men just stood there, listening to the sounds of struggle from within. “That was kinda cruel, boss.”

“Perhaps a bit, but it had to be done.” He got a rumble of agreement.

The door cracked open and the ratty remains of Nixx’s dress were flung through the gap, Niffty peeking her head out. “Sir, please get her some new clothes,” she requested. “She can’t wear that anymore, it’s too late to save it! We need to burn it.” She practically vibrated with joy at the prospect, ignoring Nixx’s distressed whine from behind her as her hand clawed at the door in a feeble attempt to escape.

“Of course,” Alastor agreed. “Just leave the clothing to us, and focus on getting yourselves all clean and spiffy! By the time you’re done we’ll have the finest rags this town has seen!” Niffty beamed at him and cackled as she withdrew her head and pulled Nixx’s hand away before slamming the door. A moment later they heard Nixx’s quiet whimper, and then relative silence.

His shadow picked up the discarded dress and whisked it away, while Alastor turned to Husk with an expectant smile. “Well?” he asked, inclining his head. “You heard the lady, Nixx needs new clothes.” People would surely talk about an adult man purchasing clothes for a small girl, and better for Husk to take the reputation hit than Alastor.

“...I hate you.” Husk sighed as he stalked towards the door, swiping his wallet from the counter. As he opened the door he called, “Between this and telling her about the spare key, you owe me big time though!”

As if he had a choice. Rather than remind him of their contract Alastor asked, “You have a spare key?”

The question made Husk pause, glancing over his shoulder with a suspicious look. On seeing the innocent look on Alastor’s face (innocent for him, anyway), he pushed the door shut and turned to face him while frowning. “The one in the fake rock outside the entrance,” he said slowly. “You didn’t tell her about it?”

“Husker, do you really think I would bother with keys?” Alastor asked in amusement. “Surely you noticed how I warped straight to your apartment just tonight. Why, I don’t even use the front door of this building! I couldn’t tell you about any rocks that might be found outside, fake or otherwise.”

Husk stared at him, but he didn’t look annoyed at the reminder about Alastor’s penchant to just barge into his apartment like he usually did. “The door was locked when we got here,” he said slowly. “And Nixx was already inside. So how the hell did she get in here?”

And that... was a good question which Alastor could not answer. Just another mystery to add to the pile.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, Nixx actually did hold a grudge against Alastor for throwing her into the bathroom at Niffty’s mercy. At their next encounter she hissed and scurried away, complaining about him teaming up with the bad stabby lady.

Unsurprisingly, she got over the grudge quickly upon him taking her to a candy shop. Fortunately she shared the sweet tooth so common to children.

Unfortunately, that little bribe was also her first introduction to candy. Because of course she’d never had candy in whatever miserable existence she had before ending up in Hell. And that little taste got her hooked on the cheap confections, which meant every subsequent encounter had her pestering him for more.

(Alastor had minor regrets about his decision to bribe her with them, not that he would admit it to anyone else.)

Fortunately, that newfound sweet tooth also gave Niffty an easy way to win over Nixx’s heart and get past her lingering paranoia of the tiny woman. All it took was a single offering of bug-themed sweets, and Nixx unofficially deemed the cyclops her new best friend. The two particularly enjoyed stabbing ladybug macaroons with knives so that the filling would spill out like guts.

That, however, presented yet another new concern, because it meant Nixx could now potentially be bribed with candy. Also she now sometimes wielded a knife thanks to that bonding session with Niffty, dashing Alastor’s intent to minimize their influence on her, but that was (apparently) a lesser concern. So Husk ended up having to give Nixx a renewed version of the stranger safety talk after spotting her follow someone into an alley with the promise of cheap chocolates.

Though that talk came after she’d killed that sinner when she quickly realized the offer to be a ruse.

“Holy shit,” Husk whispered, staring at the alley with his jaw hanging open. Nixx had obviously killed people before, but he’d never actually seen her in action. Still hadn’t, technically. She’d been in the alley out of his sight for all of five seconds before he’d heard the man scream from inside, and arrived to find the place already splattered with blood.

“Lying is wrong,” she sniffed, scowling down at the now-headless body.

Alastor, having also been walking down the road with Husker when the cat spotted her, just nodded and said, “Yes, it is. Lying is quite wrong, my dear, one of the gravest offenses a soul can commit.” Reinforcement of moral values was important for developing young minds. And the idea of Nixx murdering someone for even the pettiest little lies was too amusing to not encourage. She had already killed one liar of her own volition, so this wouldn’t count as influencing her.

To that end he added, “Well done! I’d say you’ve got the right idea on how to handle liars!”

Nixx responded with a half-hearted smile, but it quickly fell into a pout. “I wanted the candy,” she grumbled.

Husk’s paw met his face. “Priorities, kid,” he groused, and sighed. “Look, tell ya what. My place is just down the block, so you can—what are you doing?”

He pulled his hand away to see Nixx had moved on to looting the corpse, rooting around its pockets before pulling out a wallet. She pulled out several bills and squinted at them, before turning to look at the two living demons. Then she scurried over and held the bills out.

“Candy?” she asked hopefully. Alastor looked at the money in puzzlement for a moment before it clicked. Oh, she must think that money was traded specifically for candy after seeing him buy some at the store!

...Huh. Had she really gone this long without understanding how money worked?

Husk seemed to realize it at the same time, his expression turning concerned. He seemed to weigh whether he really wanted to give her a full lesson on basic economics, before apparently deciding no. “Take it to the candy store down the block,” he told her, eying her clothes as he added, “I’m... pretty sure they won’t care about the blood.”

Nixx nodded and scampered off without another word, leaving the two alone in the alley with the corpse. “Husker,” Alastor said after a moment.

“Yeah, boss?”

“By any chance, do you have any ideas on how she killed him?”

“Not really, besides the missing head and the big chunk taken out of his chest. You notice something?”

“Hmm, unfortunately no, though now that you mention it there is a sizeable hole in his chest. I didn’t notice it with all the rest of the blood on his torso! I’d expect the decapitation was probably what did him in though.”

“Ah.” Husk nodded. Then, “So uh. Any chances you can see that guy’s head?”

“A pity, I was about to ask you the same thing! Your eyes are more suited for dark spaces than mine, so I suppose the fact you’re asking means...?”

“Yeah, the guy’s head isn’t here,” Husk confirmed briskly, lip curling as his eyes scanned the alleyway. It had no dumpsters or boxes for the head to hide behind, not even any doors leading into the buildings. Just a typical shady dead-end alley for people to do drugs, vomit after a binge drinking session or try to lure in unsuspecting victims. People didn’t really need to be discreet in Hell, but it was convenient for everyone else to not have to walk around them as they indulged in their vices.

So, a single glance was enough to confirm the head wasn’t there.

Alastor tilted his head as he inspected the corpse. “I wonder if the body can even revive without the head,” he mused.

That seemed to be Husk’s limit. “Yeah, I’m gonna check on Nixx and give her the stranger danger talk now,” he huffed, stalking away while grumbling something to himself about whether Hell even had white vans. And completely ignoring the fact they were supposed to be on a mission together to find some upstart who’d been getting a bit too cocky.

Ever since the radio station incident, Alastor realized that watching Husk handle pests was way more amusing and had been calling him for a lot of the more petty squabbles. And some less petty ones. And one argument with a newer Overlord that ultimately ended without bloodshed but left the cat rattled and was no less amusing than the fights. The hit to people’s pride when they challenged the Radio Demon but lost to a no-name hazbin was just delicious.

(Unbeknownst to either of them, this was also starting to raise Husk’s own fallen reputation. Because while the targets were minor to Alastor, they still had climbed the ranks a good bit to even catch his attention. Plenty had challenged those people and lost up until that point, building their own reputations that added an extra flavor to gossip about the confrontations.

With each victory and fallen foe, more whispers spread about Husk’s power despite not being an Overlord. Especially with how fearlessly he spoke back to Alastor despite being on a leash, openly complaining when most would find that action suicidal.

In time, the Radio Demon’s Feral Cat would become a feared entity in his own right, people wary and respectful of his power even with a leash. And the defeated foes would lose the sweet edge of self-loathing that made Alastor enjoy the spectacle so much.

But for now, he got to enjoy the bitter look of wounded pride after every futile scrap.)

Well, it wasn’t like it was urgent, and the situation with Nixx was far more entertaining than watching Husk beat up some cocky pests, so Alastor could let it slide.

This time.

For now, he let his shadows spread over the alley and even a bit beyond, stretching up the walls to search the rooftops. Every inch of the alley and surrounding roofs were covered in black, before quickly receding as his own shadow shook its head.

“So the head really is gone?” he mused. “Interesting...” Nixx had no blood around her mouth, so she hadn’t eaten it in the five seconds it took them to reach the alley. And he surely would have noticed if she used some method like burning to dispose of it. So that only left some sort of space-time ability. How fascinating!

He still had one other question though.

When Husk returned a few minutes later, having finished his lecture, Alastor was waiting in the street with a grin. “I have a new mission for you, Husker!” he sang, and the cat immediately balked because that tone was never good.

“Fuck. What is it?”

Alastor grinned and pointed to the corpse, which now had tent poles with a dark red tarp set above it. “I need you to stay here with this body and make sure no one touches it, and make notes of the decomposition!”

He patiently waited for Husk to get the curses and insults out of his system. His annoyance was quite undeserved this time, the task was hardly difficult. Alastor had even already prepared a comfortable camping chair and a little camping stove with a cooler full of fresh if somewhat questionable meat! And the tarp even had a flap that could be pulled shut like a curtain for privacy! All the cat had to do was sit there.

Once he ran out of steam Husk asked, “How long am I supposed to watch it?”

“How long does it usually take for people to revive after decapitation?”

That just gave Husk an impressive second wind.

One week later, Carmilla Carmine forced Alastor to end the experiment on behalf of the local Overlord, who was too cowardly to face Alastor himself. Apparently the stench of the decaying corpse was driving away business. “Why did you even bother moving a corpse there?” she asked.

“Oh, I just thought it would be fitting to put it where I originally found it,” he replied with an idle shrug, making note of her wording. It implied she thought the body had already been dead for some time and they moved it later, which suggested that the decay was quite extreme for a single week. 

The notes that Husker provided him indicated the same between all the lines cursing Alastor and bemoaning his sensitive nose.

Interestingly, the accelerated decomposition was only centered around the chunk of flesh scooped out of his chest though. The rest of the body had decayed at the usual rate apparently. Alastor never saw the body himself beyond photos Husk took. The cowardly local overlord had offered to handle disposal immediately, which was also relayed by Carmine and which Alastor graciously accepted through her. They had been ready and just waiting for his approval apparently, as the body was already gone to places unknown by the time he went to retrieve Husk.

In the end, Alastor never got to find out if the fool revived or not, and he also had to give Husk a month off as compensation for watching a corpse rot for a full week. At least they confirmed that Nixx could somehow accelerate decomposition. Though they were still left with more questions than answers.

Rain in Hell sucked.

Acid rain in Hell sucked even worse.

Vox grumbled as he stood inside a bus stop, the best refuge he could find from the sudden downpour. Of all the days for his company car to break down, it just had to be the day with acid rain. And the acid rain also just had to fry the crappy wiring of the nearest crappy building so it lost power, meaning he couldn’t just zap into the power grid to get away. He could use his phone as a conduit instead, but he’d have to come back for it later and that’d be a hassle.

Basically, he was stuck waiting here for a few minutes until the rain stopped so he could use the second nearest building to get back to the Tower without sacrificing his phone. Annoying, but gave him time to text his assistant about how to handle the morons in charge of the company car. He’d already torn off the driver’s arms, though he’d graciously refrained from killing him since he wasn’t the one responsible for breaking it, just didn’t notice anything was wrong. Never say Vox wasn’t a merciful boss.

Though he did leave the driver out in the rain, so... He’d learn his lesson anyway.

The media mogul leaned against the glass wall of the bus stop, fingers flying across the screen as he used his powers to bypass the stupid on-screen keyboard. Letters appeared with just a thought, he really only had to press send. Alas, his assistant lacked electrokinesis to boost his own typing speed, so Vox still had to wait a few agonizing seconds for each response.

His gaze briefly flicked over to the other two plebs also sheltering from the rain there. One was some weird big guy in a raggy-looking cloak, all hunched over and shit with hair covering his face, just gave off real creep vibes. The other was a tiny little bat girl of all things, and—huh, was she a kid or just a really short adult? Neither of them looked his way, both facing the street.

Ding. His attention returned to his phone as his assistant replied that he could send someone to retrieve the car. Vox zapped back a response saying to just scrap it, the acid rain and driver’s blood probably ruined it anyway. Then back to waiting.

He looked over again. The big guy’s head had turned slightly, now looking at the little girl.

Ding. Then should they focus on identifying which moron was in charge of the car? Vox sent back a suggestion to just kill them all, they’d obviously all screwed up if none of them caught the issue.

More waiting.

A glance to the side. The guy had turned his body to face the girl more fully. She continued facing forward.

Ding. But if they killed all the mechanics, they’d need to spend time sourcing new ones or waiting for them to revive, which would delay getting the cars ready.

“Ugh,” he groaned out loud. He hated it when his assistant was reasonable instead of a yes-man, because he was right. It would be way more inconvenient to replace their entire staff, dammit. Killing just one would be better from a logistics stance, but he still felt a bit of ire at the entire group.

A quick glance.

The creep had frozen at Vox’s grunt, having moved forward with his head now very close to the little girl but angled slightly towards Vox. The girl was still looking at the road.

Vox turned away and texted back a disgruntled fine and jabbed send. He should probably do something about the shit happening next to him, the creep obviously had bad intentions for the kid. Vox wasn’t a soft-hearted sap, but he’d rather not see anything done to one so close.

He glanced over again.

The creep’s attention was fully back on the girl, lips curled back in a giant grin to reveal nasty-looking yellowed teeth.

The girl had finally turned her head to look at him.

And then her tail suddenly swept up to slash the creep across the throat.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Vox yelped, nearly dropping his phone as he jumped back at the sudden violence. The creep reeled back with a pained roar, the noise wet as blood gurgled in his mouth. Without missing a beat the kid leaped up and her wings spread to let her hover, leaning back and kicking his chest with hoofed feet. It sent him stumbling back, tipping over onto his back with a gasp and a loud thud. His hunched back actually made him rock a bit like a turtle, his hands shooting up to grip at his neck as he choked and gurgled.

The kid landed atop his chest, head tilting as she looked down at the gasping man. She looked like she was standing on a mountain with how big and round he was. One of his hands flailed towards her, other still pressing against the horrible gash on his throat. His fingers weren’t sharp, they were blunt and rounded, but his hands were large. Easily larger than her head, more than capable of doing damage. But the angle and his panic made it hard for him to aim, fumbling blindly more than actually grabbing her.

His fingers brushed the side of her dress, the coke nail on his pinkie managing to snag on a peeling patch sewn into the side. It ripped off as he dragged his hand down, thin threads snapping and expanding the hole it had originally covered. The girl ignored it as she stepped forward, the man’s head lifting to try to look at her despite it just putting more pressure on his wound—

And then the hand holding the gash vanished.

One second it was there, blood seeping into his fingers. Then inky black blotches rippled across it, expanding like ripples on water, and then—it was gone. Just an empty stump remained, making his eyes bulge wider as he gasped.

She held eye contact with the man as she swiped her fingers across the exposed gash in his throat. Her hands weren’t dainty despite her small frame, they were like Carmilla’s with no wrist so her hands were as thick as her arms. Her fingers were equally large, and unlike the creep’s they were sharp, so that swipe ripped out a big chunk of flesh. The man shrieked in agony and his head fell back, face instinctively rolling to the side to try to avoid choking on his own blood. That motion just caused the gash to rip even wider and speed up his death. His body convulsed a few times, and then went still.

Silence fell after that, only the harsh pounding of acid against glass filling the bus stop.

The girl tossed the chunk of throat-meat aside and wiped her hand on the creep’s top to get rid of the crimson stains. Her tail flicked behind her, giving a sharp snap that sent the blood coating the edges of her feathers flying. The spray landed at Vox’s feet just shy of staining his shoes. He stared at it for a second before slowly raising his head, finding the girl now staring at him.

Vox was no stranger to murder and violence. He was, however, unused to seeing it inflicted by a tiny child.

Ding.

Vox nearly dropped his phone again and quickly looked at the screen. Apparently he’d sent a whole string of what the fucks and glitchy text during that whole scene, and his assistant was now expressing concern. Vox quickly replied fuck it, send a car over asap, call a cab if he had to because he was dealing with a real-life children of the corn situation and he needed out ASAP.

He looked up.

The kid’s head was now tilted to the side as she regarded him.

“He was a bad man,” she declared, and yep, that voice confirmed this was definitely a child and not a child-sized adult.

“Yeah, he was,” Vox agreed slowly.

“He was icky.”

“...Yep. Very icky.”

Ding. He risked looking away from her to check his phone. A car was on the way, and also what the heck did Vox mean by children of the porn?

Typo, can’t text now, he’d explain later. Also send over a VoxTek gift bag ASAP with a shirt. Vox kept his eyes on the murder-child as he waited for a response. Her eyes had blots of black slowly swirling and stirring against a backdrop of red, like an ever-shifting Rorschach test on bloody paper.

He thought he saw a severed arm and the grim reaper’s scythe in those blots.

Ding. Why did he need a gift bag? They didn’t even make gift bags. Vox shot back that it didn’t matter, MAKE ONE AND SEND IT NOW!!

He pocketed his phone after that, unwilling to risk looking away anymore. Sure, he could take her on, but holy shit he did NOT want to fight a kid. He’d made his line perfectly clear to Valentino back when they first started their partnership, and that line extended beyond film and television. Kids were off-limits outside of harmless shit like advertising and hypnosis, they would not profit off maiming them or fight them. They might be in Hell, but even he had some standards.

...Also, yes, he was a little terrified of the kid. Could you blame him though? She took out that fucker like it was nothing!

A navy blue bag with VoxTek branding suddenly appeared in the air between them, reminding him of yet another reason why he kept his assistant around. Apportation was so damn convenient, the guy might not be able to teleport himself but he could send over a script or fresh coffee from anywhere in the city.

It floated for half a second before falling to the ground, the kid’s head dipping down to follow its descent. She blinked and cocked her head to the side, her eyes now a mercifully solid red. Vox used his foot to nudge the bag forward towards her, just shy of the growing pool of blood. A hopefully decent distraction for her to focus on instead of him. Also if it had a shirt like he asked, maybe she could put it on to replace her now ripped dress.

It didn’t work. She raised her head and continued staring at him. The absence of the soul-revealing ink blots didn’t make her gaze feel any less unsettling.

The stare-off continued until a car pulled up, at which point Vox slowly side-stepped towards it. The kid’s head slowly turned to follow him, not blinking once, and yeah he was done. He quickly scrambled into the street to yank open the door and throw himself inside, acid rain be damned. When he looked back again he nearly had a heart attack upon seeing the kid had gotten off the body to just stand there.

Watching him.

“Hurry up and drive!” he hissed. “Move it!”

“Uh, s-sir?” the driver asked shakily, and Vox tore his gaze away from the kid to yell at the fool only to falter. This... was not one of his employees. Or one of the VoxTek cars or even a cab. Because they wouldn’t have an obvious drug dealer sitting in the passenger seat, looking absolutely bewildered to see him.

Fuck it. “Floor it and I’ll pay you five hundred in cash,” he said.

The car peeled away, leaving behind the little hellion.

She watched them drive away the whole time, now holding the bag up to her chest. Somehow, the fact she was small enough that the bag was almost the height of her torso didn’t make him feel any less unsettled.

Chapter Text

As the symbols faded from the fringes of his vision, Husk was left standing with a sour scowl, a bag of groceries dangling loosely from his claws.

“Husker, old pal!” Alastor greeted cheerfully as he twirled around him, waving his cane about with a flashy grin. “Glad you could make it!”

“Uh huh,” the cat grumbled, staring forward with that sour look untouched. He didn’t need to move his head to confirm they were inside the radio tower, having become very familiar with the structure in recent months even if he was just staring at a wall right now.

Alastor halted his circling to bend over at the waist, head cocking to the side as he peered at the bag. “What’s that you’re holding? Were you in the middle of shopping?”

“Mmhmm,” Husk hummed noncommittally.

“Well I hope you got everything you needed! I don’t quite know where I grabbed you from, so you’d have to walk back. My apologies, Husker.”

Another hum, golden eyes still gazing forward and mouth pressed into a firm line. Alastor clapped as he straightened, marching around Husk with exaggerated steps while swinging his microphone cane like a baton. He came to a halt with one leg mid-air once he was directly in front of the cat, twisting on his heel to face him with his heels clicking together.

“Anyways, onto important matters!” he declared, and used the cane to point upwards. Husk’s eyes followed it even as his head remained in the same forward-facing position, finding a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. “A light bulb burnt out. Absolutely dreadful, I tell you, just dreadful! A travesty, a disaster, a tragedy of the highest proportions! Why, I haven’t felt such despair since my favorite program changed hosts in 1925.”

He stepped back as he bemoaned the tragedy, one arm waving over his face as he leaned backwards in his mock-swooning. A second later he sprung upright ramrod straight, hands clasped behind his back as he smiled brightly. “So, I need you to change it for me!”

Husk just looked at him, face still just as deadpan as when he’d first shown up. When the silence stretched on Alastor’s head quirked to the side again, pressing on. “You know, since it’s so high. And you have wings!” He practically skipped to stand behind Husk, his fingers gently brushing over the feathery appendages which gave a minute twitch at the contact. “How convenient for reaching something so high!”

Husk stood in silence for another long moment, ignoring the way those fingers ran along the edges of his wings. “You didn’t have that lightbulb last time I was here,” he finally said.

Alastor’s fingers paused their motions as he perked up, grin widening at finally getting a response. “Well I didn’t see a need for one then,” he said, withdrawing his hands and marching in front of Husk again. “But this tower is just so dim and dreary sometimes, so I took the liberty of installing one. And now, it is dim. So tragic.” His voice took on a note of sadness, posture baleful as he scuffed the floor pitifully with one foot.

Perhaps if he didn’t have the same shit-eating grin he always sported, the slump to his shoulders could be read as sheepish. Perhaps if he was not taller than Husk, he could pull off the pitiful look he was going for with how his head bowed. As it stood his posture was a mockery of despair, an offensive imitation meant to ring false and insincere.

If Husk gave a fuck, he’d mention how the lightbulb was hardly that high. Or that Alastor could use his shadows to change it. Or that the thing wasn’t even wired to anything, the black socket holding it hanging on a chain with no wires. It was nothing but a hollow prop, just as obviously fake as Alastor’s act.

As it stood though, Husk had long since run out of fucks to give. That one question had been all he could muster in an attempt to appease the drama queen’s need for a responsive audience. Now that he’d asked it, he could move on.

“This is about Nixx again, isn’t it,” he asked flatly. That got Alastor to go perfectly still with foot still sticking out mid-scuff, the only motion his eyebrows shooting up. After a moment he dropped the dramatic pose to step aside with a chuckle.

“No, no, of course not!” he laughed in a sing-song voice, lying through his teeth to continue the charade they both knew to be false. “I really do need that light bulb changed, Husker. I even have one ready!” He swept an arm towards his desk which did indeed have a light bulb.

Eying it with a single raised eyebrow, after a moment Husk heaved a sigh and trudged over, dropping his bag so he could snatch it up. His wings spread and he kicked off, rising the extra two feet needed to reach the lightbulb. The old one unscrewed without any issues, and he stared blankly at the empty socket before just shoving the new one in its place, no screwing.

Then, after hovering there for a second, he grabbed the chain meant to turn it on and yanked.

The entire fixture came crashing down, the bulb shattering as the “socket” dissolved into shadows.

A beat passed in total silence. “Well, now I need to get another one,” Alastor said with a small huff.

Husk just dropped to the floor, still looking utterly bored and unimpressed. “So are you just checking to see if I’ve seen Nixx, or do you have some news about her?” he asked. Because he wasn’t an idiot. He knew Alastor had been summoning him more and more just to see if he could tease him about Nixx.

Husk didn’t care enough to bother lying to himself, the brat had wormed her way into his heart at least a little bit. Hard not to after spending three days together, trying to teach the kid the most basic facts of life. He cared about her safety, worried for her, and Alastor had latched onto that small attachment immediately. He’d taken to summoning Husk with increasingly inane excuses, just to gauge his reactions and see if he could glean some new material to taunt him.

Asshole wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore. They both knew the real reasons for the increased summonings, even if Alastor refused to ever admit it. At least this lightbulb stunt was mundane, if petty and dumb. Husk had been called for more fights in the past six months than his entire stint as an Overlord, short as it had been.

Initially the realization of Alastor’s intent had scared Husk, aware he now had a new weakness for the other to exploit. By now, he was just as numb to it as everything else though. He knew Alastor wouldn’t hurt Nixx; twisted as he was, the bastard did have a moral code, and kids were strictly off-limits. His amusement came purely from Husk’s reactions to him poking and prodding at the potential vulnerability.

Now that Husk had fully called him out, Alastor gave a small shrug and let the dumb act finally drop. “Mm, I did see her drop a rock on someone yesterday. That makes three deaths that way so far.”

“I am not watching a corpse again,” Husk said monotonously. “I’ve already babysat three fucking bodies, boss. Get someone else to do it.”

“Yes, yes, I know, your poor nose can’t take it,” Alastor huffed with an eye roll, as if he found it to be a childish excuse. “But she didn’t touch the body beyond stealing the wallet, and we already figured out from the second one that she needs to actually touch it. So there’s no need to watch over this one!” Pausing, he added, “Well, probably not. Maybe I should assign someone else...”

Husk just grunted, walking over to his bag to pull out a can of beer. He usually didn’t go for the cheap canned shit, but he needed an emergency stash for stress and now was as good a time as any. “Is Nixx hiding near here?”

“I don’t believe so, no.”

Tchk. He cracked open the tab, guzzling down the contents as quickly as he could so that Alastor couldn’t try to spook him into a spit-take with some other news.

Good call, because the bastard was already rambling again. “She took it straight to a man in a white van to trade for candy. She’s finally getting the hang of economics!” Another distracted hum from Husk as he drank, which got Alastor to pause. “Hmm. I thought you would react more strongly to that, given the lectures you’ve given her about that very topic.”

Husk raised a single eyebrow, the most emotion he had shown thus far. “You realize Nixx can sense people’s intentions, right?” he drawled.

Crack. Alastor’s neck bent as he tilted his head. “Come again?”

Husk opened his mouth to answer but then paused as he considered it. Huh. Actually, he supposed Alastor probably wouldn’t know since most people would run away upon seeing him. So he had far less opportunity to see Nixx dealing with foolish predators.

Again, if he had any fucks he might be amused or even smug he knew something the egotistical deer didn’t—but once again, he ran out of fucks long ago. “It’s pretty dang obvious when you look at the patterns. There was the artist creep, you remember him right?”

“Yes, he made a delightful snack to gift Susan once he revived!” Alastor crowed. “Couldn’t have chosen a better hag to receive such rotten meat.”

Husk didn’t know if the rotten meat referred to the guy’s decomposition, or just the fact he was a creep. Probably both. He didn’t really care either way.

“Yeah, so Nixx totally knew he wanted to do something to her,” he started, but then paused as realization struck him, eyes narrowing. “Wait a second. I told you back then.”

Alastor’s grin grew a touch more mocking. “Did you? Hmm, thinking back, I suppose I do recall you sharing some unfounded speculation back then...”

Asshole’s tone made it clear he’d never forgotten it. He was playing dumb just to let Husk go on, probably so he could make later fun of his memory or some other stupid shit. Good thing Husk hadn’t actually felt smug at having some knowledge Alastor didn’t, or he might have been a little disappointed.

...Probably not, actually. He’d be more annoyed at whatever the deer would do upon revealing the ruse.

Still, he could take some satisfaction at disrupting whatever mind game Alastor had intended, and pushed on. “Yeah, well, it might’ve just been a hunch back then, but I’m sure of it now. Based on what I’ve seen the kid do since then, she was absolutely going along with him for an opportunity to kill him.”

“Hmm, interesting.” Alastor drummed his fingers along the top of his microphone as he considered it. “And what else have you seen?”

“Well, there was that one creep with the candy, which you saw. Then there was this woman who was talking about how small Nixx’s teeth were and how she could get a bunch of money from the tooth fairy. Pretty sure she had a thing about baby teeth.”

Husk grimaced at the memory. He had spied the encounter while grocery shopping, some fairy-like woman bending down and smiling at Nixx way too wide as she talked about hiding teeth for the tooth fairy. It wasn’t the usual kind of creepy interest Husk saw directed towards kids, and she wasn’t being overtly threatening, but it was still gross in its own right.

The tight corners of Alastor’s mouth indicated he felt the same. “Disgusting, I’m sure. And how, pray tell, did Nixx react?”

“She bit off the woman’s nose.” Nixx had moved so fast and abruptly that the woman barely seemed to register what was happening before her nose was torn off. Her shriek had drawn plenty of attention.

Alastor perked up and raised a finger as he opened his mouth. “No, Nixx didn’t swallow it,” Husk said before he could speak. “She spit it right back out, right in the woman’s face.” The Radio Demon’s shoulders slumped in mild disappointment.

“Well, probably for the best. I will give her credit for spitting it right back at her though, nothing quite like having your own freshly severed body parts thrown right back at you!”

Husk wasn’t going to even touch that. “Then there was this guy selling jewelry who offered her a free necklace. I’ve seen him around and he looks and acts normal enough, but he likes to cut people up to make talismans and charms and shit. I only know because he ended up going after one of my neighbors and she ran into my place on accident when running away. She almost got her foot chopped off.”

“Her foot?” Alastor echoed curiously.

“She’s a rabbit.” She was hardly a nice woman despite how soft and meek rabbits seemed, usually speaking more swears than words. Seeing her actually crying with fear as someone tried to hack at Husk’s door with a butcher knife had been a novel experience.

“Ah, I see! What an intriguing idea, to use sinners for those superstitious little charms.”

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure he was thinking the same thing with Nixx,” Husk huffed. “He wasn’t acting weird or anything when he was talking to her, just saw her looking at his stuff and said he had a necklace he was gonna throw out because it wasn’t selling. Didn’t sound creepy about it at all or try to push it on her when she said no. Only red flag was him staring a little too hard when she flew off.”

Husk genuinely wouldn’t have noticed anything off if not for his prior knowledge of the man. His tone had been relatively normal as he offered Nixx the gift after noticing her lingering curiosity, and he didn’t try to insist when she shook her head. Even that lingering stare on her departing form could have easily passed as curiosity rather than anything sinister.

The slight slump to his shoulders was really the only thing to validate the bad feeling in Husk’s gut.

“Then she circled back and dropped a rock on him and smashed his head open,” he finished.

“Ha!” Alastor barked a sharp laugh, delighted at that. “Now we’re at four deaths by falling stone! So simple but apparently effective. What a pathetic way to die.”

Husk just hummed absently. “Then there was—”

“Another sighting?” Alastor interrupted. “You seem to see Nixx quite often when we’re apart.” His tone was light and airy but his gaze was sharp, probing and alight with dark amusement. Searching for weaknesses to exploit as always, such as Husk caring enough to specifically search for Nixx.

Once again, it had no effect on Husk. “I don’t go out of my way looking for her, she just hangs out around my neighborhood sometimes. Not all the time, but I tend to see her at least once a week when I’m running errands.”

“Oh? How interesting! And why ever would that be, Husker?” His smile was smug and taunting as he leaned forward, hinting at Husk encouraging her visits so he could keep a better eye on her.

Husk was having none of it. “You’re the one who told her where I live,” he pointed out flatly. “I don’t even talk to her half the time I see her, she’s usually busy doing her own thing and doesn’t even notice I’m around. I’m pretty sure she just hangs out there so she can go to my place for baths if she gets dirty.”

That was enough to make Alastor pause, his expression losing that mocking edge as he shrugged. “Hmm, fair enough. By the way, when she goes to your place, does she—?”

“Fifty-fifty on whether she waits for me or is already inside somehow when I get home. I still have no fucking clue how she gets in, she’s not using the key. At least she doesn’t try to start the bath when I’m not around.”

“So teleportation may still be on the list. Anyways, please resume your original story!”

“Right. So, I’ve seen a couple other incidents. There’s lots of creeps down here in Hell, you know? But the one that really convinced me was when she met the neighborhood creep. Like, no one talks to him because he just gives off creepy vibes—not your kinda creepy, just... creepy. He’s always just breathing heavily and barely ever talks, just stares at people WAY too hard. Feels like he’s dissecting us with his freaking eyes. Pretty sure he got his house because whoever lived there before just blew town after he spent a week staring at their place.”

Alastor hummed at the description. “You’re not doing a good job at selling her noticing his malintent as particularly notable.”

Husk huffed. “I’m getting there. So I was minding my own business late one night—”

“Were you returning or searching for a bar?” Alastor piped in.

“Doesn’t matter. Anyways, so I saw her following this guy into his house. About gave me a heart attack. So of course I went in after her. By then I already kinda figured she had that sensing thing going on and could probably handle herself, but I wasn’t just gonna leave her alone with the guy, y’know?”

“Of course not.”

“So I break down the door, expecting the worst, and you know what I find?”

“Nixx sitting with his rapidly cooling corpse?” Alastor guessed, sounding faintly amused Husk even bothered asking.

“Nixx and the guy sitting on the floor of his living room weaving flower crowns.”

The little jolt of surprise Alastor gave was almost satisfying, as was the record scratch cutting through the air. “Flower crowns?” he repeated, as if doubting his own ears.

“Yep,” Husk confirmed flatly. “Flower crowns. They weren’t real flowers, they were made of fabric and wire I think, but the guy was teaching her how to weave the stems the same way the hippies do. They’d just gotten started, but it was pretty obvious what they were making. I was ready to kick some ass so seeing that just left me standing there confused for a second. And then Nixx actually got mad at me.”

Alastor’s eyes practically lit up, his smile growing wider. “She got mad at you?”

“Yep. Huffed and scolded me for breaking down the door. Said he was a nice man and I was being mean to him.”

It had been a bit surreal, to see the tiny little bat child put down her fake flowers so she could glide over and chastise him. “He’s nice!” she had said. “He doesn’t have the ick Husker! Breaking his door was mean!”

“From the way she talked about it, she thought it was obvious he was a good guy,” he huffed in the present. “And, well, it’s really, really not. But she was right. I got to talking with the guy, and turns out part of the reason he’s down here is because he killed some guy who was abusing his kids. They lived in the apartment next door, and the kids were the only ones who’d give him the time of the day. Said Nixx reminded him of the daughter a bit.”

Alastor’s head cocked to the side. “He actually told you all that in your first meeting?”

“He kinda had to, given the bastard started screaming for help from his basement. He’d tracked the asshole down a couple years after ending up in Hell and has been keepin’ him locked up in his basement ever since. Just torturing and killing him endlessly. Actually asked me to play with Nixx while he went down there to shut him up and apologized if it scared her.”

Alastor was silent for a moment as he processed that, eyes large with surprise. “I think I want to meet this man!” he finally declared, and Husk rolled his eyes.

“Sure, do whatever ya want.” Should he mention the dolls? Nah, Alastor could find out himself. “Anyways, the way she talked about him just cemented that she can tell when people have bad intentions. Pretty sure she thinks everyone can do that.” Nixx had looked at him like he was an idiot for trying to tell her to be careful in the future while the guy was in the basement. He had never known a small child could look so judgmental.

He pushed aside the memory and continued, “So between that, and all the bodies we’ve seen her leave behind? I ain’t too worried about her. She’s built for survival more than most sinners.”

“Built for survival, hm?” Alastor repeated, one claw resting under his chin as he considered it. “That’s quite the apt description. She certainly has a strong survival instinct even before taking her mysterious powers into consideration. She’s really quite well suited for Hell.” He turned to the window, gaze distant as he mused more quietly, “Really does make you wonder about her life.”

“Yeah,” Husk muttered grimly, popping open another can of beer. He drank slowly this time, gazing out the window at the blood red sky.

Then promptly choked when a blur of lavender dropped past the window.

He squeezed the can hard enough to crush it as he hacked, uncaring of the beer now spilling onto his hand as he darted to the window. Just before he reached it the same lavender blur soared upwards, followed by another darker blur. His jaw dropped as he looked outside to see a familiar bat girl being pursued by a demonic raven.

“What the hell—Nixx!? ”

“Ah, yes, she’s been fighting with that bird for the past, oh, fifteen minutes or so,” Alastor said cheerfully as Husk watched her avoid the bird’s lunges, beak unhinging to reveal sharp teeth snapping at her tail. “I think it stole some pretty doodad she found, but they seem to have forgotten about that now.”

“I thought you said she wasn’t here!”

“Ah-ah, you asked if she was hiding,” Alastor pointed out smugly. “And I would hardly call aerial combat hiding.”

“And you didn’t mention that?”

“Well, I intended to, but then I got sidetracked by your stories. They were quite enlightening, if I do say so myself!” Even as he spoke the raven gave a big lunge and managed to snap onto the end of her tail feathers, making her jolt with a pained-looking wince that nearly made her fall. Alastor tilted his head as he watched her swerve wildly in an attempt to dislodge the creature. “You know, she actually passed by the window three times during your reminiscing! I didn’t want to interrupt you though.”

Nixx twisted around mid-air and bared her fangs at the bird in a snarl, legs kicking out and hitting it in the face. That was enough to finally free her tail from its grip, though not without drawing some blood in the process. It went plummeting downwards and Nixx dove after it, tackling it from above.

Husk yelped as the pair went plunging downwards towards the street, his hand reflexively slapping the window. Somehow they both recovered from the plunge before hitting the ground though, sharply angling up and now wrestling in the air. “Ooh, an impressive recovery!” Alastor crowed, clapping politely. His smile then sharpened as the bird bit onto Nixx’s ear and the girl responded by sinking her teeth into one of its wings. “And a truly vicious counter attack!”

That was enough to snap Husk out of his shock, jaw clamping shut as his mouth twisted into a scowl. “Oh, fuck you! This ain’t the time for stupid commentary!” He rushed to the trapdoor and threw it open, barely remembering to use the hand not currently crushing a half-empty can of beer.

“Don’t let her know I’m here!” Alastor called from behind him. “I don’t think she’s actually noticed me yet, and I’d rather not have her become a regular visitor. I get the feeling she will try to visit me if she realizes, and I don’t want her interrupting my broadcasts.”

“Fuck you, boss!” Husk growled as he jumped down, his own wings spreading as he dove towards the fight. He tossed the can and hit the raven square on the head, making its head rear back with a pained shriek. Nixx didn’t waste the opening and promptly shot her head forward to chomp on its exposed neck, drawing another screech. In the process she forgot about using her wings though, and the entangled pair began falling.

Alastor watched from the safety of his radio tower as Husk snatched Nixx by the back before they could plunge into the pavement. Even then she continued to latch onto the desperately flailing bird, shaking her head like a rabid dog to do even more damage. The viciousness had him chuckle, sipping from a wine glass filled with fresh blood with a satisfied smirk. “Yes, built for survival indeed,” he mused to himself.

This had been a very productive and entertaining summoning.

Chapter Text

Sightings of Nixx became an enjoyable part of Alastor’s routine.

There was no rhyme or pattern to their encounters. One day she might be looting corpses or unconscious bodies. Another she might be playing with some toy she pilfered from who knows where. More than once Alastor got to see her dragging bodies into alleyways. One time he found her seated outside a burning bakery gnawing on a sweet treat, the picture of innocence as dying screams filled the air.

Never did she give any indication that she was responsible for whatever deeds she benefited from. Her eyes lacked the glint of mischief that usually accompanied such acts, the only hint of her potential culpability in some incidents the occasional blood splatter staining her fur and clothes. Always, always looking like a fortunate bystander.

These unexpected encounters were always pleasant little diversions to his outings whenever he’d come across her. Alastor usually kept their interactions rather brief, content to just see what sort of antics she would get up to on her own before heading on his way. These small glimpses of her daily life gave him plenty of entertainment just from speculating over the preceding circumstances.

One particular detail that tended to draw his attention were her clothes, and not just to search for bloodstains. Street urchins like herself had limited options to clean their clothes, forcing them to salvage new clothing quite often, and Nixx was no different. Each time they met was a dice roll on whether she’d be wearing something new, always trying to wear something as long as possible before finally switching.

The simple gray dress, for starters, had been quite dirty and tattered by the time she ditched it. Her next outfit had been a dirty skirt meant for an adult, probably salvaged from a garbage can, with the drawstring tied around her neck to wear it like a halter dress. Then came a dark red halter top clearly intended as a shirt for clubbing but fitting her tiny frame like a dress. That one had some noticeable rips, the worst of which later got patched over by some kind soul.

Throughout the wardrobe changes, Alastor had quickly picked up on the pattern of backless clothing. Her wings got in the way of regular tops so she couldn’t just steal one from any old body, and even if she had money, most stores didn’t sell clothing for such a small frame and wings. He could have helped by pointing her to his own tailor with some spare scratch, but where would be the fun in that? Her creativity in working around those limitations was interesting in itself!

The only time he felt tempted to intervene had been when she’d worn a lime green clubbing shirt with pink stripes, the bright color painful on his eyes against her soft lavender fur. Thankfully it got traded for a less offensive navy blue dress by their next encounter, which she cheerfully proclaimed came from Husker. And yes, Alastor absolutely hung that act of kindness over the grumpy feline’s head even if he agreed it was necessary.

Eventually, though, it happened.

The day finally came where Alastor could no longer leave her alone.

Why?

Because she was wearing the most atrocious rag of a shirt he had ever seen.

His eye twitched as he stared down at Nixx, the child currently wearing a butchered dark blue t-shirt. It wasn’t the first time she’d worn one. At some point, someone had taken the time to teach her how to alter t-shirts by cutting the back out while leaving the collar intact so it would stay up. The result was a series of oversized shirts with jagged and uneven cuts to create an opening for her wings.

Thankfully those shirts didn’t tend to last too long, and the effort needed to create them seemed to deter her from favoring them. This time though was the messiest one yet. It was larger than any other she’d worn, practically reaching her ankles. Unfortunately she’d cut off only a little less fabric from the back than she usually did, the resulting hole just a few inches shy of indecency.

Worst of all though, it had the VoxTek logo.

The moment he processed the sight he felt his mind blank and smile strain, and mentally cleared any plans he had for the afternoon. “Nixx, darling, let’s go on a shopping trip!” he announced cheerfully, and her ears perked up.

“Shopping?” she parrotted. “Candy? Toys?”

Let it be known that for all her oddities, Nixx was still a child and had the priorities of one.

“If you behave, then sure!” he said, not above bribery. He twirled his cane and tapped her chest (pointedly above the V-shaped logo, he refused to touch it) as he added, “But first, we need to get you some proper rags to replace that nasty old thing!” Alastor did not quite reciprocate the picture box-headed moron’s level of enmity, but he drew the line at any associates of his wearing the damn company’s logo.

And so, that led to his current conundrum. Because while Alastor had every intention of getting the girl some decent rags to wear, he also had a reputation to uphold. The Radio Demon taking a small child sinner to go clothes shopping? Tongues would wag faster than a dog’s tail when presented with a rib-eye steak! Not to mention his particular tastes might not appeal to the little doll, or be practical for a young girl living on the streets in Hell. Besides, he’d still rather not influence her too much.

So, after a bit of thought, he decided to take her to the Cannibal Colony.

The quaint turn-of-the-century town was delightful as always, cannibals strolling around with big smiles and feasting on the unlucky fools who’d been dragged past its borders. Nixx’s head turned constantly as they strolled down the street, awe painted on her features. Most of Pentagram City was rather modern and urban, so the town was quite the novelty.

Each time she got sidetracked and slowed down Alastor casually swung his cane behind him to nudge her along, preventing her from getting separated. The cannibals seemed equally curious about her after all, particularly the younger ones. And curiosity in the colony tended to lead to one very particular outcome. He doubted Nixx would struggle to defend herself, but it was better to avoid any fights here.

He led the way to Rosie and Franklin’s Emporium, the shop bustling with activity like always. Rosie was in her element behind the counter, happily chatting away with customers about their woes. Her black eyes flitted towards the door when the bell tinkled to signal their arrival, her charming hostess smile growing wider as she spied Alastor through the crowd.

“Alastor!” she called warmly with a wave. “It’s been too long!”

“It’s only been a week, my dear,” he replied as he strolled over to the counter, voice equally warm and fond.

“And that’s a week too long!” she laughed. “So, what brings you by today?”

“By any chance, are you free at the moment? I need a little assistance with something that I thought you might enjoy.”

“You know I can always make time for you! Franklin can handle the store just fine without me. Just give me a second to wrap things up with this customer.”

“Of course, take your time,” he replied, ever the gentleman, and moved to step back only for his legs to brush against something. He glanced down to find Nixx standing directly behind him, as close as she could get without clinging onto him. Her awe had apparently worn off and she now had a look of wariness as she regarded the cannibals around her, some of their gazes a bit more hungry than curious.

Noting their looks, Alastor’s shadow rose up from the ground to help shield the child while he flashed the gawkers a sharper smile. The small display was enough to get them to turn away, and he tapped Nixx’s shoulder with his cane to get her attention. She looked up at him, mouth still pulled into an adorably cautious pout and wings tensed and ready to take flight.

“Come along, we’ll wait in the back,” he told her, and she scurried after him on all fours as he strolled to the back room. A bit presumptuous to go directly there without Rosie, but the distance from her customers was necessary. They usually listened to her rules, but now and then one would act out anyway. While she would punish them, that could only happen after the fact, so better to just act preemptively and cut their risks.

Nixx immediately relaxed once they were alone, no longer pressing to Alastor’s side. Then she began her curious explorations with a warning not to touch anything, darting around curiously. The room was rather plain, with a sitting area and a shelf full of tins of snacks to serve guests, but there were plenty of charming decorations to occupy her attention.

A few minutes passed before Rosie joined them, clapping her hands together. “Sorry about the wait, her problem was a little more complicated than I expected. But we got it figured out and we’ll be eating good tonight—oh?” She stopped upon noticing Nixx, the tiny bat girl now staring up at a taxidermy deer head hanging on the wall.

Delight lit up Rosie’s face as she gasped, immediately charmed by her cuteness just as Alastor expected. “Well well well, who’s this cute little thing?”

“Rosie, this little doll is Nixx,” Alastor introduced, the usage of her name earning the child’s attention.

“Well hello there, Nixxie!” Rosie cooed, bending down to be closer to eye level with the little girl. “You can call me Auntie Rosie! Why, you’re so cute, I could eat you right up! Ha, don’t worry, I’m just kidding!” She giggled and waved a hand as she added, “You’re way too little, you’d be too tender for my tastes.” Her smile showed off all her thin, needle-like teeth, an intimidating display when paired with her words.

Predictably, Nixx just blinked up at her with more curiosity than anything.

The lack of fear did not go unnoticed, and seemed to win Rosie over even more. “Oh my word, you are just a peach!” she exclaimed gleefully, scooping up the child to pull at her cheeks. Nixx squeaked in dismay, wings flapping as she struggled to get out of the cannibal’s grasp. Rosie allowed her to slip free, the little bat girl quickly putting distance between them while she turned to Alastor. “How’d you end up with such a cutie-pie, Alastor? It’s not like you to pick up little strays!”

“I found her on the streets a few months back and have been keeping an eye on her ever since,” he said. “She’s just been so delightful to watch, she gets up to so many silly little antics!”

“Oh, I can bet! Children are such rambunctious little things! Though I have to say, her clothes could use some work,” she added with a small grimace as she side-eyed the t-shirt hanging on Nixx’s petite frame.

“Yes, it could, and that’s why I came here. I must admit I’m rather lacking in knowledge of suitable fashion for little belles like her. So I thought, why not consult an expert?”

The way Rosie’s face lit up made the inky voids of her eyes seem to sparkle. “Ooh, you want me to help dress her up? Oh, Al, you know me so well! She’s such an adorable little thing, and it will be so fun to work with someone who’s a little less humanoid! I don’t think I’ve ever worked with someone with wings before!”

She turned to regard Nixx as she spoke, but then paused when she found the spot empty. Alastor perked up a bit, having also not noticed the little girl move. Rosie began looking around as she called out, “Nixx? Sweetie? Where are you?”

They glanced around before quickly locking onto the taxidermied deer head, Nixx now clinging to one of the antlers. She froze upon noticing their gazes, mouth currently closed around one of the ears.

The two adults stared in silence for a moment before they burst into laughter. Nixx glared at them in offense, though the effect was weakened by her coughing and spitting up some of the fur. “Oh, honey, that’s a decoration, not food,” Rosie giggled, reaching out to grab the child and lift her off the antler. “Come on, let’s get you down from there.”

Nixx did not take kindly to being held, squirming until she was released. Her wings spread to let her smoothly glide towards Alastor, touching down and scurrying behind him with a little pout. “Bleh,” she muttered, rubbing at her tongue to try to rid it of the stray hairs.

“Here, maybe this will help,” Rosie said, walking to a nearby shelf and grabbing one of several colorful tins. “A nice treat can help get a nasty taste out of your mouth!” Nixx perked up when Rosie lifted the lid to reveal several colorful wrappers, quickly scurrying over only to droop in disappointment at the sight of eyeballs inside.

“Aww.” She pouted. “Not candy.” She poked at one of the eyeballs, as if that would make it something else, and pouted harder when it remained just as soft and squishy.

“I don’t think she shares our tastes, I’m afraid,” Alastor commented, plucking one and popping it into his mouth. “It is quite delicious though, thank you for sharing!”

“I figured not, just couldn’t resist checking!” Rosie laughed, placing the lid back on and returning the tin. “Well! We’ll just have to grab something else for her after we’re done shopping! Now let’s go!”

Shopping took a lot longer than Alastor expected. Which was saying something, since he’d already expected it to take at least an hour.

While he knew Rosie would delight in having a little doll to dress up, he’d underestimated just how much she would enjoy it. The cannibal queen took her sweet time having Nixx model outfit after outfit, gushing over each and every one.

“Oh, you look so darling!” she exclaimed as Nixx modeled a dark red dress with puffy sleeves and a black sash tied around the waist. “Give us a twirl, honey! Come on!” Nixx spun around, fascinated by the way the skirt flared with the motion. She kept spinning around and around until she made herself dizzy, stumbling awkwardly before tripping over her own hooves.

Alastor’s shadow caught her before she could fall, gently pushing her upright as she swayed on her feet. “Careful, dear,” he called. “If you get too dizzy, you might get sick!” Nixx nodded, or maybe her head just bobbed with her swaying.

“He’s right, sweetheart. I know spinning is fun, but don’t overdo it, okay?” Rosie gently placed her hands on Nixx’s shoulders to help steady her, and directed her towards the changing area. “Come on, let’s try the next outfit!” Nixx followed obediently, Alastor’s shadow offering them a wave before returning to his side. When they vanished from his sight he sank into his plush seat with a sigh, letting some of his tiredness show itself.

Contrary to his expectations Rosie had led them to a tailor shop just a little distance away from the colony. She’d reasoned that its selection would be much more suitable for their purposes, given the modest fashion trends favored by the colony didn’t work well with wings. It turned out to be a good call, as the tailor had experience with winged clients and even had some existing stock that could be easily modified for Nixx to try.

Frankly, he was shocked at how many options were on hand. Some outfits had been tried on more to check the style and cut for a potential custom order, but even then there were a surprising number that could be taken home today with minimal alterations. Rosie had quickly determined that Nixx should avoid softer desaturated hues, as they’d wash her out, and that bright or neon shades were a no-go. By hour two, she’d leaned towards richer, darker colors, mainly darker reds and dark pinks.

They were now on hour three with no sign of it ending anytime soon.

The door to the changing area opened and Alastor quickly sat upright, masking his waning patience with a bright smile as Rosie returned. “Okay, so that dress was a little too tricky for her to remove on her own, so probably not a good contender,” she said as she sat next to him. “The buttons above the wing hole were a little too small for her to really undo. The next one should hopefully be easier.”

Alastor hummed as he leaned his face on his hand and twiddled with his cane, letting her ramble. By now, Rosie had to pick up on the fact he was getting bored, she knew him too well not to. Either she was enjoying herself too much to care, or she was doing this on purpose, her own sadistic nature bleeding through as a form of harmless mischief.

 A glance at her smile showed the corners turned up a little too high, her inky eyes a bit too narrow as she watched him.

Definitely teasing him then.

His own eyes narrowed back at her, and her smile widened. Oh, she would drag this out for hours if given the chance. It looked like he would have to find a reason to wrap this up then, or Rosie might keep them here all night. 

Their stare-off broke off when the door opened and Nixx emerged, now wearing a thin-looking white dress with hearts along the bottom. His eyebrows raised as he glanced it over. The garment looked rather simple compared to the rest, like an apron sans dress—

“Oh my gosh!” the tailor suddenly squeaked from the corner. “S-sir, please look away!” He obliged by rotating his head to face her directly, taking note of the way her yarn-like hair was now sticking straight up in shock and horror. Though that horror was directed purely at Nixx.

“Is there a problem?” he inquired, tone polite but brisk. He didn’t like being ordered around after all.

“ She’s only wearing the apron! ”

Ah. He now understood the tailor’s panic, and quashed any potential insult at her order.

“Oh, that’s the apron from one of the dresses we had back there!” Rosie exclaimed, leaping to her feet and darting over. “Nixx, what happened to the dress?”

“Looked itchy,” the girl grumbled. Then, “I like this.”

“No,” both Overlords immediately chorused, one getting a brief flashback to the naming fiasco, followed by Rosie saying, “Let’s go back and get you dressed in something else. Alastor, keep your eyes away!”

“Don’t need to remind me, dear,” he called, still gazing at the tailor who now noticed his attention and winced. He listened to Rosie usher Nixx to the changing room, watching the tailor the whole time. She was a ragdoll-like thing, suitable for her career choice. She seemed quite familiar and friendly with Rosie, but naturally was a bit timid around Alastor.

Even so, as the door to the changing room closed to leave them alone, she seemed to steel her nerves and took a breath. Oh? This could be interesting. “Um, sir, I have no problems at all serving you three for as long as you want,” she began, voice just slightly shaky. “I don’t have any plans for tonight, and Rosie’s always brought me good business.”

“But?” he pressed, tilting his head curiously as he wondered just where she was going with this.

To his pleasant surprise his little push seemed to embolden her rather than scare her, her voice a little steadier when she responded. “Well, I might need time to finish the orders if you want to take them home today. It’s currently four, and while, again, I don’t mind extending my hours, I usually close the shop around five, which Rosie knows...”

She trailed off, and his grin widened as he picked up on her meaning. Clever woman, she’d picked up on his growing boredom and was providing him with a ready excuse to end this fashion show!

“Well, that just won’t do,” he said. “What sort of gentleman would force a woman to work past her hours?” Almost on cue Rosie returned and he turned to her. “Rosie, I was just informed that the shop is supposed to close in an hour. We should probably finalize the order now so she can finish it for Nixx today, it would be quite rude to keep her overtime.”

“Oh, is it that late already?” Rosie asked. “I had no idea!” Bushwa, there was a perfectly legible clock on the wall which Alastor had been using to count the hours. He just hadn’t been aware of the store’s hours. Rosie turned to the tailor with a smile. “Sorry Tilly, time just really flies! I guess we should narrow it down so we can get out of your hair!”

“It’s no problem at all, Miss Rosie!” the tailor responded with a smile. Amusingly her teeth were a metallic silver with serrated edges, the way they fit together reminding him of double-edged razor blades. A sharp contrast to her otherwise soft appearance. “Just say the word and I’ll get it done in a jiffy!”

“Will do!” Rosie replied as she turned to Alastor. “Alright, how many outfits should we go for? She’ll need something for playing of course, maybe a couple tops and those red shorts she liked. The dresses are all so adorable, but maybe we should go on the simpler side for them. She’ll also need a coat in case of rain, and—hmm, does she have a nightgown?”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm Rosie, but I think she can get by with just one outfit,” Alastor told her. “She doesn’t exactly have a place to store an entire wardrobe after all. We just need a replacement for that filthy rag we burnt!”

Rosie regarded him for a moment before her smile fell and was replaced by an exasperated look, the change enough to send an electric jolt up his spine. Rarely did she openly display disappointment, and even more rarely did she level that look at him. His smile grew a bit more strained under her now-sour gaze. “What?” she asked flatly. “Alastor, are you saying you’ve left this sweet little angel of a sinner on the streets? ”

As she spoke she turned to gesture at Nixx, who had just stepped out of the dressing room in a berry pink dress with black buttons and a black bow around the waist. She twirled around in it, just once since the skirt didn’t flare as much as the other dress. Still, that was enough to make her nod in apparent approval.

“You look swell, darling,” Alastor told her, quite sincere. “That dress is berries on you! I think we’ve found the one!”

“No,” Rosie said. “I mean, yes we’re taking that dress, it’s just perfect on her, but no, we’re not getting just one.” She strode over to where Alastor sat, the deer reflexively leaning back as she leaned forward into his face. They were quite close in height, but with him seated and her standing she loomed over him easily. “Young man, you are not leaving that sweet little thing on the streets!”

“I hardly think she’s in any danger, Rosie,” he replied smoothly, giving no sign of his discomfort at having her frown inches from his own face. “She’s handled herself just fine thus far. Why, we’ve seen her take down multiple full-grown adults! Though we still don’t know how for some of them,” he added in a grumble, a bit of irritation seeping into his tone as he averted his gaze. As amusing as it was to speculate, he was really starting to get frustrated at how he still had yet to figure out much about Nixx’s powers.

“I’m sure she can handle herself fine, but Alastor, you can’t just leave a little girl out on her lonesome if you plan to be involved in her life!” Rosie scolded. “I mean, look at her!” She pulled back to gesture at Nixx, who was now sitting on the floor gnawing on a big hunk of meat which she had not been holding a second ago.

She paused under the sudden scrutiny, eyes narrowing and beginning to swirl with black spots as she bared her fangs. “Miiiiiine.” Her wings folded around herself, a violet cocoon shielding her and her meal from the world.

The three adults stared in silence for a moment. “Nixx, where did you get that meat?” Rosie asked. Another hiss sounded, the noise trembling with demonic power as the lights seemed to dim.

“Rosie doesn’t want to know so she can steal it, dear,” Alastor assured her. “She has her own food back at home. We’re just wondering where you were hiding it this whole time!” The wings parted enough for one eye to peek out suspiciously, the bits of red not speckled with black glowing in the shadows.

Then another hiss sounded, even more demonic and distorted than the last, and the wings wrapped around her once more.

He hummed before turning back to Rosie. “We’re not getting any answers.”

His voice was bright and chipper as always. His eye twitch was less so. “This is really bugging you, isn’t it hon?” Rosie asked with a raised eyebrow.

Alastor barked out an exaggerated laugh, his microphone hamming it up with a matching laugh track. “Ha, don’t be silly! It’s just another unexplained power is all! Why in the world would that bother me?”

“Because you’re nosier than half the old ladies in the colony,” Rosie replied wryly. “You hate not knowing stuff, Alastor. But also, don’t think you can change the subject!” She jabbed a finger at his chest, his body involuntarily twitching at the contact as his smile strained. “You’re obviously taking responsibility for the little dear and care for her or you wouldn’t have brought her here. You can’t leave her homeless!”

Thankfully she immediately retracted her finger so he didn’t have to push it away, but he glared up at her. “Rosie, I’ve hardly adopted her. I’m merely acting as a sponsor of sorts and watching her from afar. Half the fun is seeing how a child goes about living on their own in Hell! If I get too involved, I’ll influence her development too much.”

Rosie looked unmoved by his argument, her expression perfectly flat and a stubborn glint in her narrowed eyes. He squinted up at her defiantly, determined to win this fight.

Rosie won, and Alastor gave in.

He secured Nixx an apartment near his radio station in a relatively nice building that was mostly empty due to being near his radio station. He reasoned that if she could survive on the streets for over half a year, she would be fine living on her own in an apartment. It was a simple two-room affair with a basic living space and a bedroom, plenty of space for her new wardrobe and any other prizes she might find. He even furnished it with the basic necessities, ensuring everything would be appropriately sized for her.

“Just don’t touch the stove,” he told her lightly, pointing to the appliance in question. “You don’t yet know how to cook, and you don’t want to start a fire!” She bobbed her head in silent affirmation, and he’d just have to trust she would listen. “Good. Now I need to go prepare for my evening broadcast. If you want to listen, just turn on the radio!”

He gestured towards the radio in question, sitting on a low table against the wall to be within easy reach. It was a classic cathedral radio, made from a violet-tinted wood with the front facade carved to resemble a featureless head with large, branching antlers. Nixx’s ears immediately perked as she beelined for it, her eyes lighting up with delight. “How?” she asked eagerly as she looked it over, and he bent to point to the central of three knobs on the front.

“Just turn that knob to the right to turn it on!” She did so immediately, twisting it with enough force to make the radio rock. When only static came from the speakers she sagged in disappointment though, which made him laugh. “Silly girl, I’m still here! There’s nothing for it to broadcast right now.” She still pouted, and his smile softened as he patted her head. “I’ll start one soon, so just leave that on and you’ll hear it soon enough!”

“Okay,” she mumbled with a nod, though she still seemed a little pouty.

That just wouldn’t do. Alastor bent over and pressed his fingers against her cheeks, the contact making her jolt in surprise. “Now, dear, wipe that sad, pitiful look off your face,” he said. He pushed upwards to pull her mouth into a smile that matched his own as he told her, “You’re never fully dressed without a smile!”

Nixx blinked up owlishly at him, but when he pulled his hands away her smile remained. “There, see? Much better.” He straightened and discreetly wiped his hands on the edges of his overcoat. “Now, I need to go finish my preparations! And while I’m gone, don’t forget to smile!”

“Okay, Alastor!” she chirped, still beaming up at him. Then she turned and scurried over to the bookshelf, curiously poking at the little bits and bobs he’d conjured so it wouldn’t be bare. He took advantage of her distraction to slip into his shadows, reemerging in his radio station. Once there he all but collapsed into his chair with a sigh.

This was more involvement than he’d hoped, but it didn’t have to change their dynamic. All he’d done was give Nixx a place to stay more permanently, something she likely would have eventually acquired on her own. If anything, this would just make it easier to check in on her and provide more entertainment. Her decorating choices and tastes would surely be interesting! Who knew what treasures she would bring back to display?

Still, he quietly scoffed at Rosie’s notion that he cared for the little dear. Nixx was a curiosity, their acquaintanceship a way to pass the time and nothing more. The main value she provided was a break from his ever-growing boredom. He had no reason to care for her beyond that.

A muffled grunt from behind him broke him from his thoughts, reminding him that his studio wasn’t quite empty tonight. A sadistic grin spread as he turned to his console and flipped the switches, leaning over the microphone.

“Good evening, Pentagram City,” he crooned almost sweetly. “Apologies for the delay in starting my broadcast tonight, I got sidetracked with some errands. I do have quite the show planned though, we have a special guest tonight...”

Across the street, one little bat girl perked up as an ever-familiar voice sounded from the radio, sitting in front of it with an entranced look as the show began.

Chapter Text

Nixx looked up at the burning building.

She looked down at the muffin (!!) in her hands.

She tilted her head, and then turned to walk away while nibbling at it, ignoring the panicked shouts and running people around her. She had no idea why the building was on fire just from someone throwing a bottle at it (didn’t those usually hold water and gross-smelling juice?), but because of that she got a muffin (!!), so it didn’t matter. Muffins were nice and soft and chewy, and she had yet to find one she didn’t like. This one was no different, the fluffy top melting in her mouth.

Today was a good day.

“Hey, girlie.”

She stopped at an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see a man looming over her. He was a tall one, almost as tall as Alastor, with shiny gray skin and a horn on his forehead, and had a nice-looking smile. She cocked her head as she looked up at him, watching black mist waft around his body and bubble around the edges.

Ah.

This man had the ick.

“That’s a nice muffin you got there,” he said. “You like sweet stuff?”

Nixx narrowed her eyes and bared her fangs with a hiss, wings stretching behind her threateningly. Food thieves were the bane of her existence. Ick alone didn’t tell her they’d want to steal food, people back then didn’t have ick but would take it anyway. So the fact he had ick and talked about her muffin was a bad combo. Bubbly black ick, too, that was really bad ick.

He held up his hands. They were big and had sharp claws. “Woah, calm down, girlie. I ain’t gonna take it, I got muffins back at my place. If ya like them, you can come over and have some!”

Another hiss, her tail flicking behind her as she held the muffin (!!) closer. Why did he even bother trying to pretend to be all nice? It was so obvious he was a bad man! He should just go away! But she knew he wouldn’t, people with black ick never left.

Fight then? Ugh, he was so tall though, and his neck was the same shiny gray as his body. She had noticed that most shiny gray things tended to be hard. It was hard to cut or bite them, and she didn’t know if shiny gray skin would be like that too. She didn’t want to touch him to check, not with that ick all around him. Nixx knew she was small, and her best bet was to take people down before they could attack. So if it didn’t work, she’d lose.

Fighting him was too risky. He might take her muffin (!!) and hurt her too.

Leave. She should leave. She took a step back as her wings flapped in preparation to fly, her mind made up. “Woah, hold on girlie, don’t go just yet!” the icky man said, taking a step forward. He didn’t even flinch when she hissed again, just smiled down at her. “Come on, why are you so paranoid?”

Because he had the ick, duh!

“What are you doing?”

A new voice cut in, and they both turned to see a woman with scaly skin and snakes instead of hair. Gray mist wafted around her as she glared at the man with a hand on one hip, the wispy ends drifting towards him. “Picking on kids now, huh?” she asked with a smirk. “Guess you’re finally finding someone on your level!”

The shiny gray man growled as he turned to her, wisps of dark gray drifting from the black ick to wave towards her. “Oh, shut the fuck up, bitch!”

“Oh, like you can make me.” She flashed a vicious smile, all sharp and jagged and gold.

Nixx tilted her head as she looked at it, and decided Alastor’s smile looked better.

The woman didn’t seem to care about Nixx, and the other guy forgot about her, the black ick fading to gray and aimed at the lady. Gray ick still meant bad things, but not as bad as black, and more importantly that it wasn’t directed at Nixx. That suited her just fine, and she took advantage of his distraction to make a hasty retreat. A quick kick had her airborne, soaring high up and across the skies while nibbling her muffin (!!).

Flying was really fun and convenient. It took a bit to get the hang of it, but Nixx had learned to use every advantage she had, and it made it really easy to get away from bad people and get to places. Walking was so slow, and the streets were so dangerous. Even if people didn’t attack her directly, there were so many fights she could get caught up in. Not many people could fly so the skies were mostly safe.

Too bad there were still birds though.

She narrowed her eyes as she saw her Rival flying in the distance. It was a black bird with red eyes that Husk called a raven, but she just knew it as her Rival. She could tell it apart from all the other ravens because of the red band around its tail feathers. It had been the bane of her existence since it first tried to steal a shiny necklace she’d found, and since then they had fought plenty over other shiny things or just being in the same area.

Right now it was facing away from her doing its usual afternoon patrols, and hadn’t noticed her yet. She shoved what little remained of her muffin (!!) in her mouth, lest it try to steal it, and then swooped low before it could notice her. She would rather not get into a fight today, it kept biting at her ears. They got better fast, but it was still annoying.

She glided below the rooftops but still kept above the streets, even though they were pretty empty around here. She made a beeline for the metal tower, a now-familiar sight and landmark. Just beyond it was a tall brown building with reddish columns and window frames, and she swept upwards to glide along its side. She landed on a windowsill on the third floor and nudged open the window, slipping inside and closing it behind her.

She relaxed as she crossed the room to a pile of pillows, throwing herself on top of them with a content noise. This was her home. She hadn’t lived here long, Alastor had given it to her, but it was hers.

Nixx liked her home. She finally had her own bath! And a fridge to store food! Alastor had even gotten her some furniture that was her-sized instead of giant! It was nice to not have to climb up onto every single chair, or fly onto the shelf to turn on her radio—and she had a radio!

Her own radio!!

Just thinking about it made her roll over on the pillows so she could admire it on its shelf.

It was a pretty radio, with kinda purple-y wood. The front had holes shaped like big tree-like horns, kinda like Alastor’s when he made his scary-face. It was by far her favorite thing here. Even more than her bath and her flower crown and even the Toy-Husker that Big Friend gave her. And that was saying something, because Toy-Husker was so soft and squishy.

Anyways, she loved her radio, a lot. Her only disappointment was that it almost never had the screams. She missed the screams on Alastor’s radio, there were so many different voices and they blended together so nicely. No other radios seemed to play it though. At least sometimes this one played Alastor’s voice.

She stared at the radio, and then drooped when it did not crackle to life with his voice.

Darn, sometimes he seemed to talk on it when she just thought about him. She thought maybe it was part of his magic, but maybe it was just luck. It was kinda early for him to be on it anyway. There was always one station playing music though, so she got off the pillows to turn the little knob.

The speakers crackled to life, soft music echoing and a deep voice crooning softly. “I don’t want to set the world on fiiiire... I just want to start a flame in your heart...”

Her nose wrinkled as she tilted her head. Why set a heart on fire? Did the singer not like whoever he was singing to? And didn’t he know it would smell bad? At least she assumed it would. Nixx had smelled burning organs before, like intestines and livers and kidneys, but never hearts.

She hummed as she glided over to her kitchen, looking at the stove. A quick swipe at her wing produced a single lung. It was a weird lung, all soft and gooey and more yellow and black than pink. It had been pink when she found it, but the more she took it out the weirder it got. She held it a bit away from her as she looked between it and the stove.

Should she try to burn it so They could have a taste of sweet air? It was the whole reason she’d grabbed it, it had seemed like such a waste for a lung to just be left on the street.

But then, no one else seemed to care about that. People here seemed to prefer eating organs, which... Ew.

Nixx frowned, and then frowned harder when some gross started dripping down her fingers. She used her tail to open a drawer and stab a towel to drop on the floor, carefully putting the lung on it. Then she shuddered at the gross on her hands, and flew up to the counter to use the sink.

Sadly, the kitchen was not her-size, but at least she could fly so it wasn’t a big problem. A nudge from her tail turned on the faucet, and she shoved her hands under the water to wash away the gross. The faucet was in the middle of the sink though, and she had to lean forward a lot as she scrubbed at them.

Then she leaned a bit too far and fell in with a yelp. And that made her fall on her hands and the gross get on her shirt and ew ew EW—

And at that moment she heard a telltale fwip and static. “Nixx?”

“Alastor!” she called, hopping up to try to look at him. Unfortunately that just had her bump her head on the faucet, making her fall with a pained yelp. A moment later a familiar red-framed face was looking down at her, eyes and smile glowing a bit with how the light was right behind his head.

“I believe you have a perfectly serviceable bathtub, my dear,” Alastor said in amusement.

Nixx huffed, of course she knew that. “I know. Hands were gross and I fell.” She huffed again as she stepped out of the water so she could hop onto the counter. She was now sopping wet and soggy, and still had a bunch of gross on her dress. That made her nose wrinkle in disgust. If Alastor wasn’t a man and thus in-appro-pit (??) to undress in front of, she’d be peeling it off.

He tilted his head as he looked at her, humming n thought. “Hmm, that looks uncomfortable.” He snapped his fingers, and suddenly the dress was all dry and clean, and so was the rest of her fur. “Much better!”

Nixx blinked down at it before beaming up at him. “Thank you!” She would have hugged him, but she knew he didn’t like being touched.

He reached forward to turn off the sink, and then used one finger to push the faucet. It spun closer to the edge, making her pause. “There, now you won’t have to reach so far and risk falling in again!” He smiled at her, and a red mist gently swirled around him, the color deep and dark.

Nixx stared at him in awe for a moment. Then she lunged, all mental promises to not hug him forgotten.

His shadow jumped up to grab her before she could crash into him though, neatly sweeping her to the side. It set her on the floor, her hooves touching the tiles with a soft clack, and she craned her neck back to look up at Alastor. She kinda wished it put her on the counter so they were closer to eye level, but he bent over anyway so it didn’t matter too much.

“Happy to be of help, my dear! Now onto more important matters, what is that?” He pointed over her shoulder, and she twisted around to see the lung.

She eyed it for a second before turning back with a judgmental frown. Alastor should know that. He and Auntie Rosie even talked about how one of the dresses was lung-colored! Oh, but then again, this lung looked weird now though. Maybe he just couldn’t recognize it?

Realizing it was no fault of his own, she relaxed her judging look and helpfully told him, “A lung.”

“I thought so!” Wait what? Then why did he even ask? “Now, why do you have a lung on your kitchen floor?”

She hummed as she considered it, tilting her head. Why did she pull out the lung again? Oh yeah! “Should we burn it?” she asked. Adults were always in charge of burning organs anyway, so he should do it right? Plus, Alastor and the nice tree lady next door said she shouldn’t use the stove alone anyway, so he’d have to burn it instead.

Now Alastor’s head tilted. “Oh? You want to cook it? I’m all for trying new things, but I’m afraid it won’t taste good when it’s that far gone!”

“No, burn it,” she corrected him with an eye roll at the bad joke, but her nose wrinkled as she looked at it again. It would probably smell pretty bad... “Okay. No burning. The air wouldn’t be sweet anyway.”

“Burning organs are rarely sweet, my dear,” Alastor replied lightly.

(His eyes narrowed, then, when he noticed Nixx shoot him a quizzical look. As if he were missing the point.)

“Yeah,” she said after a moment, nodding slowly at his bad attempt at a joke. “But lungs are full of sweet air, right?”

He didn’t respond right away, merely gazing down at her with an unreadable expression besides that smile. “Yes, they are,” he said after a moment, and she nodded back with a sense of satisfaction. Good, so he did know. “That said, I think this particular lung would be full of rather rotten air.”

Another slow nod from Nixx, more thoughtful this time. “Yeah,” she murmured, glancing at the lung with her nose wrinkling. “Rotten.” Maybe that’s why it looked so weird. She’d never known lungs could turn rotten. The thought had her turn back with a look of sudden horror. “Wait! Can our lungs get rotten like that?”

“Only if you smoke!” Alastor replied cheerfully, and her confusion only grew. Smoke? Like fire? That song earlier had talked about setting a person’s heart on fire, so would that make smoke and make lungs turn rotten? Was that why he wanted to set the heart on fire? But wouldn’t burning their heart kill them anyway?

Nixx was so confused.

“Would you like me to take care of that for you, dear?” Alastor asked, breaking her out of her daze.

“Mmhmm.” She nodded, and he snapped and the lung suddenly lit up on fire. She jumped, eyes wide as she watched the green blaze quickly consume it within a few seconds, leaving nothing behind on the towel except some ashes.

“There we are!” Alastor said brightly. “All gone!” Nixx stared at the empty towel a moment longer before turning back with a frown.

“But Alastor, you said the air was rotten!” she pointed out. “Why would you send Them rotten air?”

Alastor hummed as he tilted his head down at her, a calculating gleam in his eye. “My dear, we’re in Hell,” he told her. “I’d say that all air down here is a bit rotten. Even if that lung were healthy and pink, there isn’t much ‘sweet air’ to be found here unfortunately!”

The remark made Nixx frown harder, her ears flicking uncomfortably. She knew they were in Hell, everyone kept pointing that out. And it was definitely different from the other place. Still, though... “But the air still tastes better,” she mumbled.

Alastor paused. “Does it, now?”

“Mmhmm.” She nodded absently, still so very, very confused. It smelled a bit worse sometimes, sure, and she could always kinda taste blood, but... It still didn’t feel as—as—

She didn’t even have words for it yet. It just felt better. Bigger.

Maybe someday she’d know enough to explain it to him. For now though, she let the thought drop, turning her full attention back to Alastor. Then blinked when she saw he was gone. A glance around revealed he’d moved over to her pillow nest, holding up Toy-Husker by the scruff of its neck as he looked at it with a tilted head and questioning grin.

Nixx perked up and quickly glided over, happily crashing into the toy. Her limbs wrapped around it with a delighted squeal, so pleased that it was so close to her size and thus extra-huggable. Even better, Alastor didn’t drop Toy-Husker like she thought he would! He even raised it a little higher so they were almost eye level. “I don’t remember seeing this before. Was this a gift from dear old Husker?”

“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head. “Don’t tell him. He’d be—be...” She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to remember the word before whispering, “Em-breast-ed.”

A beat. “Nixx, do you perchance mean ‘embarrassed’?” Alastor asked, and she quickly bobbed her head in agreement.

“Yeah! That!” Husk had looked so uncomfortable when he first saw Toy-Husker. If he knew Big Friend gave it to her later, he’d probably be even more uncomfortable. And then she might not be able to keep it anymore, which would be sad because Toy-Husker was so cuddly!

“I see,” Alastor said with a nod. “We can’t have that, can we? Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.” He used his free hand to trace his mouth with fingers pinched together, lips shut so no teeth showed for once. Nixx beamed at him, happy to hear he would keep Toy-Husker secret.

Her smile faded then as she squinted at Alastor, eyes trailing his hair and horns. His hair always looked so soft, in a different way from Husk’s fur. Would those ear-tuft-things bounce if she squished down on them? They looked like they would. She wanted to check, especially since she was actually so close to his hair right now, but she knew Alastor wouldn’t like that so she just squeezed Toy-Husker tighter.

Still, the want was very visible on her face.

Alastor held her gaze for a moment before releasing his hold on Toy-Husker, sending toy and child plummeting to the pillows with a surprised yelp. Nixx rolled around a bit, limbs still clinging to Toy-Husker. “Anyways, I was just stopping by to make sure you haven’t burned down the building yet!” he said as he strolled over to the kitchen. His shadow picked up the towel and carried it to the sink as he added, “Oh, and also because there’s been a bird staring at your window for the past ten minutes.”

Toy-Husker went flying into the air as Nixx jolted upright, gaze snapping to the window. Sure enough, there was a black raven sitting at the window, peering in with glowing red eyes.

“Rival,” she hissed, her own eyes narrowing and flashing venomously. Its beak parted in a muffled caw, white teeth flashing threateningly. She responded by baring her own fangs back with another hiss, uncaring if it could barely hear her through the glass. Her Rival had found her home, it must have followed her! She would need to be careful in the future!

“Rival?” Alastor echoed from behind her in amusement as the duo stared each other down. “Hmm, a bird seems a bit below your station, my dear. Hardly worth your time. Why not kill it?”

That made Nixx pause her hissing and turn back to him. “But that would be boring,” she said plainly. Her Rival was annoying, but it made flying around a little more interesting. Even Nixx got bored flying around with nothing happening, so her Rival kept her sharp and on her toes.

Alastor perked up at her response, the red mist flickering a bit as he faced away from her while stirring a pot on the stove (when did that get there?). “Oh? How interesting! That’s how I feel about my rival!” Gray ick seeped into the mist as he spoke, making her tilt her head. Huh.

“You have a rival too?”

“Yes, though he’s far more invested in it than I am,” he chuckled. “If you ever see a tall blue moron with a picture-box for a head, that would be him. I merely put up with his antics because our banter helps keep the boredom at bay.”

She tilted her head. Picture box... That was Alastor-speak for a TV, right? She didn’t really like them, they tended to make her feel kinda weird, but. Blue? TV head?

“Is he the man from the bus stop?” she asked.

A sharp screeching noise cut through the air. That happened a lot with Alastor, she noticed. So did the way his head rotated to face her, neck bending with a painful-sounding crack as his face bent at a painful-looking angle.

“What was that?” he asked. “You’ve met him?”

“I think so?” They’d barely talked, but... “He was nice. He gave me stuff.” That bag had so many neat little things in it!

“Like that hideous shirt you wore with the red V logo?”

“Yeah!” Nixx bobbed her head. If Alastor recognized that shirt, then that man must be his rival! “Who is he?”

He stared a moment longer before his head snapped upright and turned around. “No one important, my dear,” he said dismissively. “Don’t think about him anymore, he’s not worth your time.”

She frowned, unhappy with him avoiding the question after bringing it up, but didn’t push it. There was a lot of gray ick now, which meant he had really icky feelings towards that man.

Nixx still thought Alastor’s rival seemed nice though. He’d had light gray ick aimed at that big man with the black ick at the bus stop, and it only appeared after that man started looking at her. Before she killed the black-ick man, there was even a tiny bit of pink in there! The gray ick only started getting lighter black specks after she killed the icky man, but that was probably just because she surprised him. And even then, he still gave her that fun bag!

Nixx considered checking the bag, but a glance at Alastor convinced her against it. He looked so happy right now, and whatever was in the pot smelled so good. She didn’t want to sour his mood by showing off more stuff from his rival. Then he might not let her have the food!

...

She would look into his rival more later.

(Meanwhile on the other side of the city, Vox felt a chill run down his spine strong enough to make his screen glitch out for a second. Which was quite irritating since he was in the middle of a business meeting.)

Chapter Text

Niffty was excited.

She was always pretty excited, actually, because there was just so much to see and do in Hell. So many vermin to kill and torture, and people to stab, and things to clean and bad boys to watch—

But right now she was really excited. Why?

Because Alastor had found a child!

A girl child!!

Don’t get her wrong, Niffty loved fawning over bad boys as much as the next girl. And Alastor was easily one of her favorite people ever! But sometimes, she just wanted to have some nice quality time with other ladies. Drink tea and dress up, work on some fun sewing projects together, maybe stab a few people. Nixx was a bit young to talk about boys and the finer aspects of romance unfortunately, but she was still a girl and that was good enough!

Their first meeting had been a bit rough, she was just so dirty, but Niffty took care of it right away! She made sure to scrub down Nixx thoroughly, clearing every bit of dirt and blood until her fur was a nice, clean lavender. Once she wasn’t absolutely filthy and in need of purging, she was so soft and cuddly! It was enough to win over Niffty, no matter how rough the first meeting had been.

Though their next meeting had also been rough.

And so was their third.

And the fourth.

Niffty was starting to get a bit annoyed with how hostile Nixx was, always puffing her wings and hissing. Maybe it was because Niffty kept finding her in weird places. It wasn’t her fault Nixx liked to hang out under dumpsters or inside walls though! They could have talked in nice, open spaces, but Nixx just loved darting to those sorts of places whenever Niffty saw her on the streets.

It made it harder for Niffty to find her sometimes, but Nixx was the one who chose to go to those places in the first place! If she was embarrassed by it, then too bad! The only problem Niffty had was how gross some of those places were, they tended to leave Nixx super dirty.

Which, admittedly, tended to set Niffty off a bit. Which then tended to make Nixx even more defensive.

So, yeah.

Their meetings usually devolved into a little fight pretty fast, up until Nixx would be flying away as Niffty flung knives and needles at her.

(The possibility that Nixx considered her a stalker of unknown intent due to wildly fluctuating ick colors, and her determination to track her down to every hiding spot, never occurred to the cyclops.

The ick part because Niffty had no idea that was a thing. And the hiding part because, well, why would Nixx be hiding from her?)

Anyways! So things didn’t go too smoothly at first, much to Niffty’s frustration. But then! One day Husk mentioned that Nixx liked candy (or rather complained about her trying to attack a candy-themed demon), which was the breakthrough Niffty needed. She got a bag of gummy roaches and bided her time, and then at their next meeting held it out to the little girl mid-hiss. Nixx had stopped hissing to snatch it up and quickly devoured them all.

After that, Nixx dropped the hostility. And even better, she also stopped hanging out in those weird dirty places so much, so there was no reason for either of them to get upset anymore!

At long last, Niffty finally had her very own lady friend. It was a shame Nixx was too young to really talk about girl stuff like boys and stuff, but that could be fixed eventually. There were plenty of other things they could do together.

Which brings us to the present.

“What do you mean you’ve never had a tea party?” Niffty gasped. “That’s like a requirement for girls!” Even though Niffty didn’t drink tea at whatever age Nixx was, she’d still had plenty of pretend tea parties with her stuffed animals. They weren’t actually her favorite playtime activity (that honor went to playing house, so much cleaning and drama with her playtime partners), but still! It was a staple of being a girl!

“I don’t know what tea is,” Nixx said with a shrug, aiming one of Niffty’s needles to throw at a rat. She then yelped and dropped it when Niffty grabbed her and spun her to face her, singular eye wide and manic.

“You’ve never heard of tea?” She was aghast at the notion, and her horror quickly transformed into firm resolution. “That’s it! New plan for today, we need to go now!” She didn’t give Nixx a chance to respond before grabbing her wrist and dragging her away, giggling maniacally to herself all the while. If Nixx struggled a bit to try to wrench her hand free, Niffty didn’t notice.

Thankfully they were only a couple streets away from Niffty’s apartment, having randomly stumbled upon Nixx after picking up some new sewing needles. Nixx had been scrounging through boxes spilled on the road from a crashed delivery truck, but happily stopped when Niffty arrived and took her to a nearby standard shady dead-end alley to talk. They had taken turns looking at each other’s hauls—Niffty showing off her new sewing needles, and Nixx the trinkets she’d salvaged—and talked about fun things to do.

Still, she never expected to hear any of that from Nixx! Niffty had words for whoever had raised Nixx in her life, they clearly knew nothing about raising children! As an adult and the primary female influence on Nixx, she felt it was her responsibility to rectify this horrific oversight.

She threw open her apartment door with a dramatic slam, the effect only slightly reduced by only having one hand free since the other still clutched Nixx’s wrist. She quickly ushered the child inside, switching from dragging her to shoving her back. “Sit down, sit!” she encouraged, pushing Nixx towards the kitchen table. “Don’t move a muscle, I’ll get everything ready!”

Nixx climbed onto the chair obediently, watching as Niffty began rushing around in preparation. Since this was Nixx’s first-ever tea party, pretend or otherwise, she felt it needed to be absolutely perfect. A quick trip to her linen closet had her returning and throwing a lacy white tablecloth over the table. A trip to the kitchen produced a nice tea set made from bone.

“This is a very special tea set from Mister Alastor,” Niffty said as she put the tray with the cups and saucers on the table very carefully. She grinned at Nixx, sharp and menacing as she warned, “Don’t you dare drop these cups or break them, or I will be very upset, okay?”

Nixx whimpered slightly but quickly bobbed her head, and Niffty then scurried off to get more things. Napkins and silverware were set out, a vase was loaded with a wilting flower from her neighbor’s pitiful window planter, and a tray of cookies were loaded into the oven. That one had drawn Nixx over to try to gnaw on the cookie dough, but Niffty quickly hissed and chased her back towards the table.

Once she’d finished a majority of the preparations and the cookies were safely in the oven, Niffty went to her bedroom to fetch some roach puppets. She’d made them a while back for a puppet show, and luckily they were still modeling some nice costumes. She put them on the other chairs, Nixx tilting her head as she watched. “What are those?”

“Guests!” Niffty chirped gleefully. “Tea parties are way more fun if you have more people!” She quickly scurried over to the first puppet, dressed in a fine suit. “This is Sir Roachington the Fourth! He’s an English lord who runs a mortuary!” Then she moved onto the other one, in a torn-up wedding dress. “This is Lady Sybil! She was supposed to be getting married, but ended up killing her groom!”

 Nixx blinked slowly as she tilted her head, and reached out to poke Lord Roachington the Fourth.

Its head fell off, and its body fell over limply.

A beat of silence passed as they stared at it. Then Nixx turned to face Niffty and declared, “I don’t like it.”

Neither did Niffty. Now that the body had fallen apart, the mental filter that allowed her to see it as a puppet rather than a bug had vanished. Now she could only see a dead bug, and Niffty hated bugs. Worse, as a broken puppet it was also garbage, making it just part of a mess.

She quickly scooped up the remains and rushed them to her fireplace, throwing the carcass inside. She then grabbed the can of gasoline sitting next to the fireplace and liberally splashed it over the logs. Striking a match, she tossed it inside and the gasoline-soaked logs immediately ignited in a bright inferno.

Niffty cackle d as the flames erupted into a roaring blaze, the roach carcass shriveling and clothes turning to ash. “Yes! Burn, burn, burn!” she chanted, eye sparkling with manic glee.

Nixx stared at her, and then slowly pulled her feet up onto the chair and wrapped her wings around herself. There was no ick, but she did not trust that expression and laugh.

Not that Niffty noticed, her cackling ceasing as she turned around. The fire backlit her silhouette to cast her face in shadow, her smile and eye almost glowing. “Lord Roachington has been formally deposed and sentenced to death by fire,” she announced. “But now we need another guest to replace him. Oh! Maybe we can have a girl’s night!” But she was out of roach puppets, so that hindered things.

Nixx turned her head to consider the empty chair thoughtfully, before unfolding one of her wings a bit and... sticking her arm inside it? Niffty couldn’t see too well from her angle, but she perked up when Nixx pulled her arm away to reveal—

“Is that Husk?” she gasped.

“He’s Toy-Husker,” Nixx declared with a nod. She’d pulled out a toy version of the winged cat demon not much smaller than herself, complete with feathery wings and a bow tie. The proportions were a bit different with the paws were a bit oversized, but that just made it look way more cuddly than the actual Husk.

Honestly, what awed Niffty the most was the craftsmanship. This was not some crude imitation, this was a high-quality toy version of her friend made with intricate attention to the details. All the feathers were high quality, the wings even having the pattern hand-painted onto them, and the bow-tie was even nicer than Husk’s actual bow tie.

Nixx put the toy Husk on the vacant seat. Then, she reached into her wing again and pulled out a tiny version of Husk’s hat to put on its head.

She nodded in approval, and turned back to Niffty. “Now what?” she asked, but Niffty was considering the toy Husk with her lips pursed. He admittedly looked very nice and stylish, but she had kinda gotten her heart set on an all-girl tea party.

Inspiration struck and she grinned. “Be right back!” Niffty darted off to her room once more, returning with her arms loaded with hats, scarves and other accessories. “This is one of the most sacred teatime traditions,” she declared as she dropped the colorful pile on the floor. “Dressing up!”

She grabbed a lacy black hat with a big red flower on the ribbon, and swapped it out with the toy Husk’s top hat. Then, she grabbed a pink shawl and wrapped it around the toy like a cape. Like this, it looked a little bit more lady-like, and was good enough for her. “This is Princess Huskelle,” she decreed with a nod. “Husk’s long-lost evil twin sister! Say hi!”

Nixx’s eyes lit up, her expression now appropriately awed as she regarded the toy. She didn’t know toys could change from boys to girls! “Hi, Huskelle,” she greeted with a polite nod. Then she yelped when Niffty grabbed her arm and yanked her off the chair.

“And now that Huskelle is dressed, it’s our turn!” Niffty declared, dragging her to the pile of scarves and hats. She grabbed a red bucket cap with a houndstooth pattern and black band, placing it on her own head with a grin. She paired it with a fluffy black boa, twirling around with a giggle.

Nixx, meanwhile, plucked an elegant red cloche hat with a wide brim and an extra big bow. The shade was a bit too bright, but that wasn’t Niffty’s problem. She plopped it atop her head and it slid down over her ears. Then it came to a halt, hovering awkwardly just above her scalp. Her ears twitched, making the hat wobble.

The child sagged with a pout. “My ears are in the way.”

“That’s okay, try another one!” Niffty plucked the hat off her head and placed a red pillbox hat on it instead. It was smaller and fit between her ears, but stood a bit on the tall side.

Niffty rushed back to her bedroom and soon emerged dragging a tall mirror behind her, the wheels squeaking on the floor. “Here, look at your reflection!” she said, giving another twirl herself in front of it. Nixx joined her curiously, blinking as she took in her reflection. She tilted her head, and the hat slipped off.

That was fine. Nixx grabbed another one, a beret-style black fascinator with a bunch of wispy feathers and a black lace veil, and placed it on her head. It fit even better, flatter than the other one so it didn’t stick up as much. She rotated it a bit, curiously peering at her reflection through the wide criss-cross holes of the veil.

She startled when Niffty threw a necklace made with black beads over her neck, followed by quickly wrapping a wide black shawl around her waist like a skirt. Nixx was already wearing a dress with a skirt, but why not, right? “Come on, spin! Spin!”

Nixx did as told, the sheer material of the shawl expanding and flaring. She kept spinning, more and more until she ended up stumbling and tumbled onto the pile of scarves with an oof. Niffty appeared beside her, happily dropping an armful of scarves, shawls and necklaces over the girl until all that could be seen was her tail.

A ding from the kitchen had her perking up. “Oh! The cookies are done!”

“Cookies?” Fabric went flying everywhere as Nixx shot upright eagerly, only to freeze when a needle was suddenly pointed in her face.

“No,” Niffty growled. “You stay here! I’ll be right back with the tea and cookies!” If Nixx came along, she’d just devour all the cookies before they could have tea. And you couldn’t have tea without snacks!

Nixx regarded her with wide eyes before giving a quick nod, and Niffty pocketed the needle as she scurried off to the kitchen. Soon enough she returned balancing a tray of cookies and the teapot that went with the cups and saucers she’d already brought out. It was painted with flowers and bones, such a pretty pattern. Nixx had reclaimed her seat while waiting, now wearing a very nice miniature sunhat and an oversized pearl necklace looped twice around her neck.

“I don’t have any actual tea, so I got some fruit juice instead,” Niffty said as she put the tray on the table. “Do you like blood oranges?”

A curious tilt of the head. “I like oranges? Do blood oranges taste like blood?”

“A little bit!” At least they did in Hell, Niffty never had one back when she was alive so she didn’t know if they did up there too. She climbed onto the table to pour some “tea” into each of the cups before settling into her seat. Nixx took her cup, only two of her fingers managing to wrap around the tiny handle. Despite being smaller than Niffty, her hands and fingers were surprisingly large.

She gave the reddish juice a tentative sniff, and then started to tilt the cup back towards her mouth when Niffty stopped her. “Wait! Pinkies out!”

“Pinkies?” Nixx’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“I don’t know, it’s just what you do when drinking tea.” Niffty shrugged carelessly as she picked up her own cup, one pinkie extending elegantly. “Manners are kinda weird like that sometimes. Like, some fancy people are really serious about which forks you use for salad, and which one for the rest of your food.” She never really got why people cared so much about that sort of thing. All forks were equally good for stabbing in her eye!

Nixx just stared at her for a moment. “That’s weird,” she decided.

“It is. But you only need to stick out your pinkie when you drink tea, so I just go along with that one. It’s part of the game.” Her companion nodded and let her pinkie pop out before tipping her teacup back, Niffty doing the same. A brief silence fell as the two drank.

After a few sips, Niffty set her cup down very carefully. “So, have you heard about Lady Rina’s ex-beau?” she asked, and Nixx’s ears twitched as she set down her cup.

“No?” It came out as a question, and Niffty took it as such.

“He was such a dog! Just hours before the wedding she found him in the changing room with her maid of honor! Can you imagine?”

Nixx, who recognized barely any of those words besides ‘dog,’ shook her head. “Nuh-uh.”

“I say she deserved it though!” Niffty said with a huff. “After all, Lady Rina never told Lady Sybil about when her fiancée cheated on her, and she knew about it for a whole month before the wedding!” She sniffed and shook her head. “That was a most well-deserved stabbing, I assure you! Good on you, Lady Sybil.” She sipped her tea with an imperious air, while Nixx turned to the roach puppet.

Lady Sybil made no moves to respond or drink her tea, because she refused to even speak of that harlot.

Niffty was unbothered by the silence, setting down her cup. “Nixx, do you or Princess Huskelle have any juicy gossip?”

“Gossip?” Nixx tilted her head, obviously unfamiliar with the word. This child’s education was so dreadfully lacking, Niffty had a lot of work to do!

“Gossip is when you talk about rumors about other people we know while they’re not around! Usually bad stuff,” she added gleefully. “Like affairs and murders and scandals!”

Nixx recognized exactly one of those words. “Killing is bad?” she asked, genuinely surprised and confused.

“Sometimes, but it’s only worth gossiping about if the reasons are really juicy, like how Lady Sybil’s ex was a two-timing jerkface! Or revenge!” Her grin curled even more at that and grew savage, giggling to herself at the thought. She loved a good revenge story! Especially when it involved jilted lovers, or enemies to lovers teaming up to take down some third enemy!

While Niffty got lost in fantasies, Nixx contemplated this new information on top of what Niffty had done earlier. She was fairly sure Lady Sybil wasn’t actually alive enough to be getting married or stab someone. And Huskelle was a toy, so she had no gossip to share. “So... we make stuff up?”

That was enough bring Niffty back to reality. “Sometimes, but usually we talk about actual rumors. Except, we don’t really have much gossip about actual people right now, so we can just make stuff up about Lady Sybil and Princess Huskelle.”

Niffty actually did have some juicy gossip, but most of the gossip she tended to find interesting enough to retain tended to be unsuitable for Nixx. Not even she wanted to explain to Nixx what it meant that Nails from down the hall liked to go to that new night club, or that Bates really liked wigs and strawberries. Or what kind of stuff went down at that new bakery down the street after closing.

Nope, that sort of gossip just wasn’t proper to discuss with a child! Made up gossip would work fine for a pretend tea party.

Luckily, Nixx seemed to be picking up on how this worked pretty fast. After a moment’s thought, she leaned forward, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. “I heard someone stole Husk’s cupcakes,” she whispered, as if it were one of the most heinous sins in the world.

Niffty gasped with a suitable amount of horror for such a thing, eye going round with shock. “No! Really?”

Nixx nodded, expression grim and somber. “They were chocolate, too.”

That elicited an undignified squeak as Niffty’s hands flew to cover her mouth in horror. “Chocolate? But that’s his favorite flavor! Right, Huskelle?”

Huskelle, predictably, did not respond, because she was Husk’s evil twin and would never deign to speak of him unless it was to insult him.

“Worse,” Nixx said solemnly. “Huskelle told me she saw Lady Sybil at Husker’s place the same day.” She shot a glare at the roach bride, Niffty joining her with another horrified gasp and wide-eyed stare.

“Lady Sybil, did you steal the cupcakes?”

Lady Sybil remained silent, a sign of guilt for sure.

From there, a trial began that ended with Lady Sybil joining Lord Roachington’s ashes in the fireplace. The three remaining tea party guests sipped at their drinks as they side-eyed the burning ex-bride, trading scandalous gossip about the heinous thief now that she was out of their circle. Or at least, Niffty and Nixx did. Princess Huskelle remained silent, and perhaps just a tad smug.

All in all though, Niffty decided that Nixx’s first-ever tea party was a rousing success.

Chapter Text

It was an ordinary day for Vox. He had spent the morning in meetings, culled a couple low-performers, and finalized details for a new show. Because the weather was nice, he’d even decided to leave the Tower for lunch at an actual restaurant with Val. They went to one of those little “hole in the wall” places on a side street that didn’t get much traffic at the recommendation of his assistant. Not as nice or fancy as he usually liked, but damn if the food there wasn’t fucking divine.

“Seriously, remind me to give him a bonus for recommending this place,” he said as he cut into his chicken parmesan. “Like, holy shit, I didn’t know food in Hell could actually taste good outside of, like, the five-star places.”

“Vox, baby, that’s because you always order takeout,” Val replied with... probably an eye roll. Hard to tell when his eyes were solid pink, but after being together for so long Vox could pick up on it from his body language. “Only the cheap places bother doing takeout and delivery, because anyone carrying food from the nice places would just get mugged for it.”

“Tch, like you go to a ton of restaurants,” Vox scoffed. “You spend way more time at nightclubs.”

“Yes, but I do like to treat my toys sometimes,” Val purred with a sly grin. “We can’t hang around the same scenes all the time or they’ll get burnt out. It’s important to spice things up now and then with a scenery change, and besides, it gives me excuses to try out new places for our date nights.”

Now that Val mentioned it, he did tend to pick out surprisingly nice places for the rare times they bothered going out for dinner. Kinda sucked he only found them because he was treating his whores, but, whatever. Maybe Vox should take more work lunches or dinners...

He mentally shelved the thought for later consideration as he focused on his chicken parmesan. Seriously, his assistant needed a raise. This food was nice, and the place wasn’t half-bad either. Quieter and smaller than his usual tastes, kinda like a topside cafe. They’d gotten a table by the front window, not that there was really much to see. The streets of Hell weren’t exactly scenic, and this one was no exception—

Oh fuck the kid was there.

Val paused with his steak halfway to his mouth when Vox suddenly jolted in his seat and nearly dropped his fork with a startled little squeak. “Voxy, baby?” he asked, blinking at the uncharacteristic show of alarm. He noted his boyfriend’s gaze was focused on the window, and he turned his head to see...

Nothing, really. No people fighting or anything. The only soul he could see was a tiny lavender thing on the other side of the road, which didn’t seem to be doing anything.

Turning back to his partner, he asked, “Did I miss something?”

That seemed to snap Vox back to reality, his expression glitching for half a second before he exclaimed, “Nothing! Nothing at all! Just thought I saw something but I was wrong, hah.” He grinned and gave an easy shrug, but Valentino knew him well enough to recognize how fake it was.

“...Right.” He resumed cutting into his salmon, while Vox waited a second before returning to his own meal as if nothing was wrong.

Because nothing was wrong. There was no reason to be freaked out by a kid. Sure, she managed to murder a guy in one of the most efficient and swift takedowns he’d ever seen, and did something to his arm he still didn’t know. But she was still a kid. A kid good at murdering, but a kid. He could beat her in a fight easily if she tried anything.

And right now, there was no reason to worry about her. She didn’t even know he was there, she was totally distracted by the—

OH FUCK SHE WAS RIGHT THERE!

Valentino paused as his partner let out another undignified squeak, actually dropping his fork this time as he nearly fell out of his seat. The moth blinked again as he took in his lover’s reaction, and turned to look out the window to see the tiny sinner was now standing outside.

Huh. Was that a kid? The sinner was definitely smaller than average. He’d never really cared for kids, finding them to be annoying and pests more than anything. She’d crossed the street to stand right by the window, staring inside at something rather intently. His head turned to follow her gaze, landing right back on Vox who was staring outside wide-eyed and open-mouthed with his arms half-raised over his face.

Valentino followed Vox’s gaze and looked out the window again, right back to the kid, before turning back to his still-frozen partner.

“Vox, baby?” he asked after a beat, face twisting with confusion. “Are you scared of a child?”

Vox startled at the question, limbs flailing briefly before he composed himself. “Pfft, what? Haha, uh, no, I’m not scared of a kid!” He laughed as he turned his attention to his meal, pointedly looking away from the window as he cut another sliver of chicken. “I’m an Overlord, Val. Why would I be scared of a kid?”

Val just looked at him and gave an unconvinced hum before returning to his own meal, his movements slower this time. Vox ignored the judgmental look as he chewed his chicken, pointedly not looking at the window because this was fine. He had no reason to be on edge, he was an Overlord. He’d taken on way bigger and stronger opponents without breaking a sweat—

“By the way, the kid’s standing behind you now,” Val remarked nonchalantly.

Several diners looked over when they heard a high-pitched scream, before quickly averting their eyes when they realized it came from the Media Overlord. They then resorted to glancing over discreetly, because one did not last long in Hell without being at least a little nosy.

Vox nearly had a heart attack as he jumped and twisted in his seat, only to find nothing behind him. He blinked and looked out the window to see the kid was still outside, head now tilted curiously. He stared for a moment before his expression went flat and he settled back into his seat, directing a scowl at Val while picking up his fork again.

“Really, Val?”

“Just had to check,” Val replied with an airy shrug and smug grin. “I didn’t expect you to react so strongly, though, baby. You don’t even get that loud in bed.”

The remark got a scoff and eye roll. “Can we not talk about that stuff in public and when there’s a fucking kid watching us?”

“It’s not like she can hear us,” Val said, but let the topic drop as he smirked. “But so you’re actually afraid of a child?”

“I am not afraid of her,” Vox growled, aggressively sawing at his chicken. “I’m just cautious, that’s all.”

“That sounds like you’re scared to me,” Val teased.

“Nope. Big difference, Val. Scared means I don’t think I could handle her. Cautious means I know I can beat her, but also don’t want to get cocky and underestimate her.”

“Why would a child pose a threat at all?”

Vox stabbed his chicken with his fork, briefly pointing his knife at the moth to emphasize his point. “You haven’t seen this kid in action, Val. I have. She took down a guy like five times her size in the blink of an eye. He didn’t even have a chance to react before he was on the ground bleeding out.”

The technological nature of his sinner form meant Vox had saved the scene in high-definition to his memory. That allowed him to study and analyze it vigorously over the last two months, and he’d spent hours rewatching it. His conclusion:

Holy shit the kid was a natural-born murderer.

Her tail feathers had actually sharpened judging by how they suddenly stiffened and glinted, making it basically a built-in knife. Worse, even, because her tail gave it range and control like a whip. Her fingertips meanwhile had also sharpened into claws, though that was pretty standard down here. Oh, and don’t forget the way she kicked the guy with enough force to send him toppling onto his back. And, again, the way the guy’s arm vanished, which Vox still didn’t understand the mechanics of.

Yeah, Vox was justified in being wary. He wasn’t scared of the brat, he could beat her in a fight easy, but he was right to be wary. Not many people could switch mental gears so quickly and just spontaneously murder someone at a moment’s notice, let alone a child. There was zero indication she planned to kill the guy next to her before she did it, no signs of irritation or any of the other usual precursors to murder. Like, seriously, holy shit that was the most 0 to 100 moment he’d ever seen.

That was the bigger problem with the kid than her murder-oriented powers. Who wasn’t vulnerable to a surprise attack?

“So yeah, I’m a bit wary of her,” he summarized with a scoff. “It’s just basic common sense to keep your guard up down here.”

“Right,” Val drawled, sounding unconvinced. “By the way, she’s actually in here now.”

Again? “Really, Val?” Vox huffed. “You think I’ll—”

“Hi.”

Less demons looked over at the second high-pitched scream, in part because many were already discreetly spying on the two Overlords. The wiser of the diners signaled to the servers for their checks, knowing that hanging around too long could end up badly.

Vox almost fell out of his chair this time, staring in horror at the girl who had indeed come inside. She stood next to their table and peered up at him, that same innocent look on her face that she’d had before springing into murder-mode. She was staring directly at him, presumably waiting for a response to her greeting.

“Uh, hi,” he said after a beat, and she perked up, eyes seeming to shine a bit.

“Hi!” she chirped excitedly. “You’re the blue TV man!”

Blue TV man? That was one way to describe Vox. “Uh, yeah, that’s me,” he replied, and let his usual smile spread as his smooth media persona took over. “Vox, CEO of VoxTek Enterprises.”

She tilted her head. “Vox CEO?” she parroted.

...Did she think that was his full name? How old was this kid to not know what a CEO was? “Just Vox,” he corrected, trying not to let his irritation show. Who knew what could set her off? That guy had done nothing but look at her, hadn’t even said a damn word, and that had been enough to make her kill him. Granted, he’d had bad intentions, but still.

Nope. Better to not take any risks, especially when he still had no idea how she did that thing with that guy’s arm.

“Look, kid, it’s nice seeing you again,” he lied, he’d have happily never encountered her ever again, “but I’m kinda in the middle of lunch here with my partner.” He shot a pointed look at Val, making the girl look at him too.

Valentino liked to think of himself as a good, supportive lover. That meant he was very attentive to Vox, and could thus easily recognize the TV-headed man’s unspoken plea for him to agree and back him up in getting her to leave.

Valentino was also in Hell for a reason.

And right now, his amusement at his partner’s uncharacteristic discomfort around this tiny child— who wasn’t even as tall as the table —was stronger than his usual ire at their date being interrupted.

He always had been more into the S part of BDSM.

So he smiled at the tiny child and said, “I don’t mind, Voxy. It’s not like we were talking about work, let her hang around for a bit.” This was far more entertaining than whatever inane conversation they’d strike up. He just grinned at the briefly betrayed look shot his way, Vox’s glare promising retribution.

Which he quickly wiped away as the kid turned back to him, replacing it with his usual professional smile. “Voxy?” she repeated.

His left eye twitched a bit, smile still firmly pasted on. “No, just Vox. Only Val’s allowed to call me that, kid.”

“Vox,” she said with a nod. “I’m Nixx. Hi!”

“...Hi, Nixx.” Vox was still wary of the kid, but she didn’t seem like she’d suddenly spring an attack if given she was, you know, talking to him. Probably. Hopefully. His damn high-def memory kept replaying the bus stop scene without prompt, and she hadn’t given any signs of planning to attack that guy back then.

“What are you eating?” she asked, rising onto her... well, not tiptoes, since she had hooves instead of toes. She gave a little hop, just enough to peek at the table for half a second. “It smells good...”

“Uh, yeah. It’s chicken.” Would she try to attack him for his chicken? Probably not, right? Right?

...Yeah, he could NOT figure out what was going through her head right now, holy shit Alastor was easier to read even with that damn perma-smile.

“Why don’t you go ask a waiter for some?” he suggested quickly. She perked up.

“What’s a waiter?”

...Okay, what the Hell? Had this kid never been to a restaurant before? “That guy with the red apron,” he said as he glanced around in search of the waiter. He didn’t see the guy though, but he did notice the other diners quickly avert their gazes, making his eyes narrow. Oh, so they had an audience, huh?

He coughed slightly, which got the diners to peek over again. Suckers. He grinned as his left eye opened wider and began pulsing, snagging them in his hypnotic hold. Their eyes turned red and filled with swirls, faces going slack. “Just go back to eating, assholes,” he called, and the crowd all turned back to their plates to resume eating mechanically with eyes still swirling.

Hold on, wouldn’t hypnosis work on Nixx?

Why didn’t he think of that sooner? Vox turned back to the kid who was conveniently already looking at him, so their gazes met immediately and his eye pulsed with hypnotic energy. Unlike the other diners her eyes remained unchanged though, her eyebrows furrowing as she quickly shook her head with a small frown. “My head feels funny,” she mumbled.

Ah shit. Of course she had freaking mental resistance.

“Well that’s rare,” Val remarked lightly while Vox let his powers cease with a small groan. Not many demons could resist his hypnosis, but they existed. That would have just been too easy, wouldn’t it?

At that moment the kitchen door opened as the waiter emerged with a water pitcher, not seeming to notice everyone’s odd behavior as he refilled glasses. “There, that’s the waiter,” Vox told Nixx quickly. She perked up and quickly scurried over to the waiter, running on all fours for some reason.

Val turned to watch her dart past him before turning back to Vox, who relaxed a bit now that he’d diverted her attention away from him. “I really don’t get why you’re so on edge around her,” the moth commented. “She seems like a pretty average brat. Maybe a bit dumber than average.” 

“Val, seriously, the kid’s a monster. You just saw that hypnosis did nothing to her!”

“Please, like she’s the only one who’s immune,” Val replied with a dismissive shrug. “But that’s hardly the only trick you have.”

“Of course not,” Vox huffed, before grumbling, “Would’ve been the easiest option though.” He was still wary of potentially having to fight her. Again, he could absolutely take on a tiny brat like that, but until he knew how she did that thing with the guy’s arm (seriously how the fuck— ), fighting her was risky. He still couldn’t read her to predict if she might try to attack. Besides, attacking a kid unprovoked in public in front of witnesses? Bad PR, not to mention he did have some standards.

Hypnotizing her to make her just go away would’ve been the cleanest option, too bad it didn’t work.

...Wait, wasn’t mental resistance usually tied to people’s own power? How strong was this kid!?

“But you know, seeing her reminds me of this director I had to get rid of the other day,” Val huffed, oblivious to Vox’s sudden revelation. “He was decent overall, had a real eye for shots, but he was really into that Batman character of all things. Could barely shut up about it. Kept trying to push us to do superhero and supervillain themed stories, which can admittedly be pretty hot, but we can’t make only those. So he kept trying work in references somehow, like sex in a cave or stuff with clowns of all things...”

Vox resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Val ranted, humming absently as he picked up his fork to resume eating. He was used to his partner ranting about annoying workers, once he got started he could go for a while. So long as it was just ranting it was easier to just let him go on, especially since it sounds like he’d already probably killed the guy so no need to worry about him going on a rampage. It was actually kind of relaxing given how familiar it was, feeling some of his tension fade.

He tuned out his partner’s voice as he cut his chicken, gaze flicking over Val’s shoulder towards Nixx and the waiter. He couldn’t see her face but he could see how the waiter smiled down at her and gestured for her to follow. Nixx trailed him obediently to the door to the kitchen, and Vox raised a single eyebrow as the two disappeared inside. Why the heck would he take the kid to the back—

Then red splashed onto the window.

Vox stopped chewing as he stared wide-eyed at the blood now dripping down the bottom half of the glass. He saw the waiter’s hand fling through the air above the stain, followed by the elbow which was severed from the body, and the tip of an unfortunately familiar knife-like tail. Nixx’s head briefly popped into sight as she sprung up, her lips curled back to reveal her fangs before she dropped down. Followed by more blood arcing through the air.

Vox just stared open-mouthed, half-chewed chicken rolling down his screen to plop back onto his plate. The waiter’s other hand slapped against the glass, now looking considerably paler and more... wrinkled? It lingered for a moment before slowly dragging down and falling off, bloody trails streaking behind it.

An unfamiliar face passed by the window then, contorted in shock and then anger for a half-second before vanishing from sight. It was followed by a glimpse of a butcher knife being raised before more blood splattered the glass, the blade limply dropping in the process. And then a blob of rippling purple and black appeared, Vox barely having time to register it was shaped like the newcomer’s head before it vanished.

A second later the door opened, giving him a glimpse of Nixx standing beside the waiter’s shriveled form and a now-headless body in a chef outfit falling to the floor. Her gaze seemed to be directed at someone outside his line of view, ears pinned back and fangs bared in a snarl with those inky blots swirling in her eyes. The scene was almost immediately blocked from view by a waitress slipping out the door, quickly shutting it and leaning against it with wide eyes and her chest heaving.

Vox clamped his mouth shut and looked away before she could notice his stare, quickly wiping off the bits of chicken from his screen. Shit, that better not have left any grease marks. “—and then he suggested kites of all things!” Val was ranting, having failed to notice anything going awry during his rant. “Like, what the fuck? How is a kite sexy?”

“Uh,” Vox said very intelligently, still in shock at what he just witnessed.

“Right?” Val shook his head in disgust. He then paused when the waitress appeared at the table with a water pitcher, looking her up and down. “Hold on. You’re not the waiter we had earlier.”

“Sorry, your previous server just got fired for being a fucking creep,” she replied in a perky tone, smiling way too big as her voice briefly dipped with demonic power and an extra set of eyes opened on her cheeks. The flash of anger vanished as quickly as it appeared and she held up the pitcher. “Would you like a refill?”

“...I’m good, but I would like your number,” Val purred with a slowly spreading grin, no doubt spotting some screen potential from that brief display of power.

“Actually, we’ll just take the check,” Vox said quickly, ignoring Val’s annoyed look. “Lunch was great, but we’ve gotta get back to the office and get to work ASAP, got a meeting I totally forgot about, yadda yadda, check now.”

“If you’re in a rush, would you like us to just send the bill to your company, sir?” the waitress suggested.

“Now that is some brilliant thinking, just go right ahead and I’ll have my assistant pay it ASAP,” Vox replied with an award-winning grin, and quickly stood up. “Come on babe, let’s go.”

“Voxy, you haven’t finished eating yet,” Val pointed out as he eyed the half-full plate.

“Let’s go, Val.” Some of his power seeped into his voice, and he didn’t wait for Val to reply before strolling towards the door. His eyes flicked towards the window of the kitchen door, most of the blood having dripped to the bottom to leave just faint streaks— oh fuck she was looking through the window!

Vox absolutely did NOT run away. He just speed-walked outside and then zapped into the nearest streetlamp so he could go straight to the Tower, as far away from the murder-child as possible. Later Val would show up fairly annoyed at Vox for ditching him, but for now he just quietly collapsed in his chair and put his face in his hands.

All he could think about were those bodies. Because that waiter’s body didn’t just look dead in the brief glimpse he got, it was way too pale and shriveled, as if it had been drained of all blood and more.

Yeah, that kid was WAY too much trouble.

Chapter Text

“Help me... P-please, help me!”

A truly wretched sinner crawled along the sidewalk, eyes wild with desperation as he weakly reached towards Alastor. The Radio Demon took a smooth step back before his bloody fingers could stain his shoe, a single judgmental eyebrow raised as he peered down at the wretch. Blood smeared the pavement in a straight line from dragging himself, clearly too weak and injured to even walk given how mangled his legs looked.

Tears welled in the man’s eyes as he stared up at Alastor, the sole demon still on the streets, his voice little more than a raw rasp. “P-please! I, I’ll do anything!”

Alastor of course had no sympathy for the weak man, only disgust and contempt. He didn’t even entertain the idea of striking a deal with the desperate fool. After so long building up his power, he could be selective about who he struck deals with. A pathetic, broken worm who could barely speak had absolutely nothing to offer him, not even a fraction of entertainment. He wasn’t even worth killing or devouring as an easy meal, his miserable state doing little for Alastor’s appetite.

Red eyes flicked upwards from the cur, more interested in the approaching figure. It was a tall man with a rather hulking physique, wearing a patchwork brown-green coat and a tiny crooked top hat that had similar patches. His black hair was rather unkempt and hung over his face, but his yellow eyes glowed between his bangs, clearly focused on the man on the ground.

He cast a large shadow over the sinner as he approached, making the man twist his head to look back and blanch. “No,” he wheezed, turning back to Alastor and clawing forward in a renewed frenzy. “No, no, please! H-help! D-don’t let him t-take me back!”

His pleas went unheeded of course, only able to cry out as the newcomer reached him and casually stomped on his back. A harsh crack sounded, the man’s body spasming as the foot lifted away, and the new arrival bent over to grab him by the shoulder and haul him up. A wheezing sob choked out of him as he was held aloft to be eye level with his assailant.

“No escaping,” he growled in a low voice. This close Alastor could see his eyes were sunken deep into his face like hollowed eye sockets, glowing even brighter as he glared at his victim. Then those eyes flicked towards Alastor, a coldness in them that would send chills up a lesser demon’s spine.

Alastor was the Radio Demon though, so he merely smiled. “Friend of yours?” he asked lightly, curiosity admittedly piqued. He could appreciate a good show of sadism, and he rarely got to see such displays from a regular sinner. Most would drop whatever they were doing upon noticing him, so he couldn’t tell whether this man was bold, didn’t recognize him, or just hated his victim that much.

Perhaps a combination of all three, he thought as the man stared him down in silence, intent gaze seeming to search for something.

“No,” he finally said.

“Please,” his victim choked. “I-it’s been years... I-isn’t this enough?”

“No,” the man repeated, glare redirecting to him. He squeezed the shoulder he gripped hard enough to audibly crack the bone, before throwing him over his shoulder. Those glowing eyes lingered on Alastor a moment longer before he turned to stalk off, his broken victim groaning in agony with each step.

Alastor watched him depart in silence, his interest definitely piqued. A tall, creepy man with a gaze that seemed to see right through you, and with a victim he’d been apparently torturing for years. Something about all of that felt familiar to him, for reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps he should ask Husker if he knew him, the old chap lived nearby after all—

Ah!

The man halted when Alastor suddenly manifested from shadows in front of him. “Pardon the interruption, I’m sure you wish to go home and return to his regularly scheduled torture, but I just had to know!” he said. “Are you, by any chance, the one who made flower crowns with Nixx?”

The man regarded him silently for a moment, his breathing heavy. With his height he had to look down at Alastor, giving his gaze a deceptively menacing air. Deceptive, for it was merely a result of the angle rather than any intent to appear threatening. Alastor would know, he’d had the same effect on many Sinners without trying.

“Yes,” he finally said with a single dip of the head, and Alastor perked up and grinned wider.

“Splendid! It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I’ve heard great things about you!” Truthfully, he had only heard about that initial encounter Husker had recounted, but that alone was intriguing enough. After all, how many people kept someone from their mortal life in their basement to torture for years? That was quite the grudge!

The sinner showed no outward reaction as he regarded Alastor. “Are you Alastor?”

The deer’s back snapped a bit straighter in surprise. It was quite rare for someone to know him by his name rather than his title. “Indeed I am, my good man! I suppose Nixx was the one who told you about me?”

Those yellow eyes continued to peer at him for a long, long moment. Then, “...Yeah.” And with that utterance, the man continued on his way.

After a moment, Alastor followed him. The nameless man made no attempt to stop him, so that was as good as an open invitation.

At this point, Husker’s sour expression upon being summoned had become a familiar sight to Alastor, yet it was no less amusing each time he saw it.

“Hello, old chum!” he greeted as the runes faded from the air, popping up right next to his furry pal with an especially big grin. “Good to see you again! I hope you weren’t too busy, I—”

“Can you just skip the flimsy excuse and get to the point?” Husk interrupted tiredly, making Alastor’s smile crack. “I just spent the past two hours listening to some snake oil salesman literally selling snake oil to the whole fucking bar. I’m out of patience for listening to bullshit, so do me a favor and skip it this time, boss.”

A beat as Alastor processed that. “And yet you stayed there anyway,” he teased coyly. “My, were you so desperate for a drink, Husker?”

“Fuck no, I ain’t that desperate,” the feline spat, mouth twisting in an irritated scowl. “The asshole had a posse blocking the doors with machine guns so we couldn’t leave without getting shot up. People tried, didn’t end well. The pricks even cut off the drinks so we couldn’t get plastered enough to try to tune out the damn sales pitch.”

Ah. So Husker was part of a literal captive audience.

Feeling a rare, rare moment of pity for his servant, Alastor discreetly had his shadows swallow up the box and shelf currently behind Husk. He’d planned to ask the feline to return the empty cardboard box to the top of the shelf (which he’d brought to his tower just for the occasion), but he’d be nice just this once. Never say Alastor lacked any sympathy. Even secondhand, Husker’s ordeal sounded more tedious than amusing.

“Well, I suppose that means you owe me for saving you from the boredom,” Alastor mused with a smirk, graciously ignoring the eye roll he got in response. Instead, he had one of his shadow minions manifest next to the furry man, its abrupt appearance only getting an irritated side-eye. That annoyed look quickly faded though upon noticing the bottle of brandy it offered him. Another of his slightly nicer bottles, though not as nice as the one from the first confirmed kill by Nixx.

Husk didn’t take it right away, turning to regard Alastor suspiciously. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“No catch,” Alastor assured him. “I was planning to offer you a drink tonight anyway assuming you weren’t already three sheets to the wind. You see Husker, I happened to run into that friend of Nixx’s you told me about. The one who made the flower crowns?”

“Yeah, the creepy guy,” Husk said slowly.

“He was in the middle of chasing down that victim of his you mentioned! Quite a show, zero hesitation in stomping on the bloke’s back! We exchanged greetings of course, though he’s not much of a talker. Barely batted an eye when I followed him home.”

As he spoke Husk relaxed his guard, finally accepting the brandy and uncorking it to drink straight from the bottle. “I’m guessing he was as interesting as you thought.”

“Oh, even better!” Alastor replied cheerfully. He lost some of his energy as he added, “Though, there was one detail that you neglected to mention.”

“The dolls?” Husk guessed.

“The dolls,” Alastor confirmed crisply.

Hundreds of glass and fabric eyes stared at Alastor as he stood frozen in the living room, more out of surprise than anything. Dolls and stuffed animals covered nearly every surface of the room, sitting on furniture and shelves. They were not cheap or mass-produced toys, either. Each was finely crafted with a meticulous eye for detail, ranging from soft felt things to more classic porcelain-style creations.

All of them positioned to face the doorway where any visitors might pass.

It was a good thing he’d never been afraid of dolls or mannequins, he imagined others with such phobias might be catatonic. As it stood, Alastor merely felt his eye twitch.

“Yeah, it just slipped my mind,” Husker said with a shrug.

Alastor absolutely did not believe him, but chose not to call him out as he barked out a laugh. “Well, it certainly made for a delightful surprise! I never would have pegged him as the type to be into that sort of thing. Appearances really are deceiving sometimes!”

Husk grunted in agreement as he guzzled more brandy. “Yeah, definitely threw me for a loop when I saw it,” he said when he finished. “Gave me the heebie-jeebies, felt like I’d stepped into a bad horror movie or something.”

“I didn’t take you to be the type to be scared of some silly little toys,” Alastor remarked, his smirk growing devious.

As expected, Husk just rolled his eyes and didn’t rise to the bait. “I’m not. Remember how I mentioned him always staring at people? Turns out the reason is because he likes to make dolls based off them. From what he said, he never really liked people when he was alive but liked making toys. And sinners tend to look a lot more interestin’ than humans, so he just started using the neighborhood as inspiration. And he’s really particular about the details.”

“So you thought he had some powers to turn people into dolls,” Alastor summarized in amusement, and got an affirming grunt in response as Husk took another swig. He’d already realized Nixx got that doll of Husk from the man, but hadn’t realized the rest of the toys were also modeled after actual people.

Which reminded him! “By the way, Nixx was there too!” he announced, making Husk almost choke on his drink.

“Alastor! Big Friend! Hi!”

His shadow intercepted the flying bat as she flung herself at the two demons, the little girl wiggling in its hold while Alastor continued to stare down the toys. “Nixx?” their host grunted in surprise, indicating he hadn’t known about her presence.

“Big Friend!” she repeated enthusiastically, and then peered at his victim. “Who’s that?”

“...Nobody. Stay here.” He went stomping off to the basement to deposit his groaning victim. Who Nixx now probably believed was, in fact, named Nobody.

“Who’s Nobody?” Nixx asked Alastor, confirming his suspicion.

“An unimportant pathetic worm not even worth thinking about.”

“Oh.” A beat. “What’s a worm?”

“...I really can’t tell if her asking about worms is weird or not,” Husk groaned as he dragged a paw down his face. “I’m used to her not knowing basic shit, but I can’t figure out if worms should count. That kid’s screwing up with my sense of normal kid development. I’m starting to think she got half her knowledge in Hell.”

“I’m sadly inclined to agree,” Alastor said with a shrug, his smile thinner than usual. Every interaction made it increasingly clear that whatever life Nixx had led before her untimely death had been... Well, “sheltered” was a genuine understatement. Not understanding the concept of names had only been the tip of the iceberg.

At this point, he was shocked she’d seemed to know what a radio was back then, given she’d called it by name. Never would he think he’d be surprised someone knew of them, given how esoteric radios were to his entire being, but here he was.

He shelved the thought for another time. “Anyways, so I decided there were more important things than explaining something as insignificant as a worm—”

“You had no clue how to answer, didn’t you?” Husker interrupted.

“Have you seen any worms in Hell, old pal?” Alastor asked in reply.

“Actually, yeah.” Alastor blinked, genuinely surprised, and the feline shrugged. “Went drinking by some docks one time and saw some imps fishing, they had some for bait. Worms down here are fucking weird,” he added with a shudder. “They’ve got mouths on both ends, with teeth.”

Well, that was a fascinating image that Alastor would banish from his mind forever more. “I see! How interesting!” The raised eyebrow made it clear Husk picked up on his masked revulsion, but his old pal wisely kept any remarks to himself as he chugged from the bottle once more. “Well, back to the story! As I was saying, there were far more interesting things to do than explain about worms.”

The basement was exactly what one would expect of a dedicated torture chamber. Racks lined with various tools and torture implements, chains on the wall, a cold metal table with straps and belts. Why, he even had all sorts of antique torture tools Alastor had only heard about, including an iron maiden! He knew from Zestial’s snide comments that iron maidens weren’t actual torture devices but a more modern invention made for show, but seeing the crusted blood made it clear this one had been used.

Alastor watched from the corner as the man got to work, grinning all the while at the show. He may not have been invited, but his host offered no protest so he took that as approval. He could see the way the man’s victim trembled in fear as he was strapped to the table, spitting out broken apologies and pleas for leniency as his host picked up... a spoon, of all things.

Oh, how interesting! This man was more creative than he expected!

“Wait, you went to watch him torture the guy?” Husk cut in wide-eyed. “Don’t tell me you took Nixx with you!”

“Of course not!” Alastor refuted with an irritated huff, his permanent smile closer to a scowl as he glared at him. “Nixx is a child! Just because she’s in Hell and has killed numerous adults so far doesn’t mean I would subject her to such a grisly sight.”

“Oh, thank Satan,” Husk groaned, his entire body sagging with relief—which, rude. Just how lowly did he think of Alastor’s standards to think he’d take a small child to watch someone be tortured?

“I am offended you would think that,” he sniffed, though he didn’t act on that offense. Not yet, anyway, since the story wasn’t over.

“Then what did you do with her?” Husk asked, looking a bit more relaxed and curious. “Because I can’t see Nixx just standin’ around waiting while there’s a guy screaming in the basement. I had to hold her back from going down there the first time.”

“It was only a short visit to help settle him back in, so we left her upstairs with my shadow to supervise her.”

Nixx crawled along the floor slowly, tail swishing behind her right before she pounced. Alastor’s shadow easily moved out of the way, a mocking grin splitting its face as she collided with empty floor. She hissed in dismay and lunged after it, slapping her hands on the wood as the shadow continued to easily dodge each strike.

Perfectly oblivious to the two adults watching her from the doorway in silence.

She was just like a cat, focused on one of those silly laser pointers—

Alastor tipped his head to the side to dodge the now-empty brandy bottle thrown his way, grin unchanging in the face of Husk’s wrath. “Oh, FUCK OFF!” the cat roared. “You agreed you wouldn’t talk about that fight!”

“Only to others!” Alastor sing-songed. “Can’t let people know my top servant can be distracted by a simple red dot, that would be such an embarrassment for me!”

“That asshole had hypnosis powers and you know it! I’ve never been distracted by a stupid laser pointer before or since!”

About five more minutes passed of Nixx chasing the shadow like Husker and that laser—

“Fuck you.”

“No thank you!”

—until his shadow finally slid onto the wall and crooked a finger towards their audience. Upon noticing them, she naturally invited them to a tea party, which turned out to be quite the event with such a large pool of potential guests. It was easily the grandest pretend tea party Alastor had attended. Their host was largely silent throughout the affair, just as he was the rest of the visit, but that just made him a good listener.

Nixx had quite the vivid imagination as she recounted various awful scandals. Mister Pinkpaw had been seen eating Miss Hattie’s cookies! Lady Testine had held hands with Lord Dink while engaged to Mister Bluenose! Princess Huskelle might have framed Lady Sybil and gotten her killed!

“Wait, Princess who?”

“Hush, Husker, I’m telling the story!”

Miss Spidercake had stolen Miss Woof’s hat! Lord Catman had burnt a rotten kidney! Nobody had bitten into Big Friend’s favorite muffin! Oh, the HUMANITY! How could the poor man ever recover from such horrid betrayal?

And—worst of all—Mister Beaker was a nonbeliever of the Great Leader Yomel!

“Death to the heretic!” Nixx chanted as the stuffed crow swung from a satin blue ribbon tied around its neck like a noose. “Death to all who dare besmurr the great name of the Great Leader Yoma! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! We love you Yoma!” She changed her voice to match the voices she’d assigned all the other toys with each cheer, the imaginary guests going wild.

The two real guests just looked unimpressed.

Husk was equally unimpressed at the recounting. “She ran across that stupid cult, didn’t she,” he asked flatly.

“She did,” Alastor confirmed crisply, his mouth pressed into that thin-lipped smile usually reserved for dealing with frustrating individuals like Susan. Cults unfortunately had a way of popping up in Hell with believers still clinging to whatever silly beliefs they had in life, and trying to convince others to join their numbers. Supposedly whatever figures they followed would surely manifest in Hell to wrest control from Lucifer himself!

Last he’d heard, this particular group had been quite zealous about executing “heretics” in public, not that death really stuck without angelic weaponry. Probably where Nixx got the idea for the hanging.

Husk looked like he had a headache as his face soured. “Of fucking course she stumbled across them,” he grumbled under his breath as he massaged his face. He looked to be in heavy need of a drink, but Alastor had already filled his daily quota of kindness towards his old pal and had no intention to provide more.

Besides, he hadn’t had any alcohol to get himself through that travesty. If he had to put up with all that hokum sober, Husker could deal with hearing about the aftermath in the same state.

“Well, that explains the broadcast this afternoon,” Husk finally muttered, making Alastor brighten.

“Ah yes, that! I’d thought about calling you to help, but I decided it would be more fun to handle it myself!”

Husk had been on his couch just aimlessly surfing channels when the stupid radio Alastor had ordered him to keep around suddenly burst to life. He jumped as it shrieked with static, cursing loudly as he put a hand on his chest.

“Greetings, sinners and hellborns of Pentagram City!” Alastor’s grainy voice proclaimed cheerfully. It echoed through the thin walls around him, all the other radios in the building joining the broadcast at top value. “I interrupt your day to bring you all a special broadcast with some special guests! Isn’t that right?”

Husk scoffed and rolled his eyes. He was getting real sick of Alastor doing these random broadcasts to torture people on-air, their screams were so grating—

“LORD YOMEL WILL PUNISH YOU FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!” some woman screeched. “YOU WILL BURN IN THE SEARING ASHES OF HIS WRATH FOR ALL ETERNITY!”

Okay, never mind. Husk had zero complaints about this one.

“Ooh, what a delightful suggestion!” Alastor replied cheerily. “Not often I have guests give me recommendations, so we’ll start with that!” Husk just settled back and continued channel surfing with the TV on mute, listening to the screams in the background.

“I’m so glad you caught the show!”

“Boss, I’d have to be living under a rock to not hear it,” Husk replied dryly. “You had all the radios screeching at top volume. And then Vox actually had half the channels stop the regular shows to play real-time reenactments of whatever the fuck you were doing. Pretty sure it would’ve had the audio, too, if it wasn’t on mute.”

“That’s because he’s never had a single original thought in that silly box he calls a head!” Alastor replied airily. He paused before adding, “And also because those morons thought they’d try to challenge several of my colleagues today. I just got there first.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow at the trembling winged sinner hovering in front of the window of the radio tower while his current victim screamed behind him, holding up a sign with shaky hands.

‘LEAVE SOME FOR THE REST OF US, THOSE PRICKS TRIED TO SEND BOMBS TO HALF THE OVERLORDS & BLEW UP MY LOBBY’

Then, in slightly smaller text below that, ‘also Carmilla called dibs on the one with the rat face. He hit on her daughters’

Well, he could hardly ignore that last request! Maintaining good relations with his fellow Overlords was so important when it was the one who built a business out of selling angelic weapons.

The others... Eh, he could spare a couple souls for them too, he supposed.

“All in all, I think this was a very entertaining day!” Alastor finished. “And I only got to enjoy it because of you telling me about Nixx’s ‘Big Friend!’ If I hadn’t recognized him from your story, I would’ve let him walk right off with that victim of his and missed out on all the fun.” It would have been tragic if the other Overlords got to that cult first!

Well, not really. Alastor really didn’t care about them that much. He was rather miffed about having to correct Nixx on quite a number of things though.

“That said, it seems that Nixx’s intention-detecting powers don’t really help her with identifying... certain unsavory individuals,” he remarked dryly, feeling some of his amusement fade in favor of mild irritation.

Husk thought it over before sighing tiredly. “Yeah, I guess that tracks. Seems like she mainly knows when people want to hurt her. And if they’re just crazy zealots or cultists spouting bullshit...”

“There would be no intention of dealing her physical harm, so her powers wouldn’t activate,” Alastor finished for him. “Which is fine, except she is incredibly impressionable at whatever age she is.”

Husk winced. “How bad was it?”

“This is Yoma!” Nixx told them, eyes shining as she held up a pamphlet she retrieved from who knows where. She pointed at a drawing of a human man surrounded with rays of light. “He’s the Great Leader who will come down to bring light to Hell and overthrow Lucy-fur!”

“Lucifer,” the two adults corrected tiredly, and she paused.

“Who’s that?”

This might be the first time her ignorance was actually reasonable.

“Unfortunately, I was too distracted to see where she got the pamphlet,” Alastor said dryly. Which was his way of saying he was too busy fighting the urge to bang his head on the wall to notice Nixx retrieve the pamphlet, which she had most definitely not held moments prior. He was certain she had some sort of pocket dimension, he just had no idea how she accessed it.

“Hold on, she had a freaking pamphlet?” Husk asked incredulously. “Can she even read?”

There was a brief pause as his question sank in for them both. “Shit, she definitely can’t read,” he groaned in dismay as his shoulders slumped. Alastor could only hum in agreement. Given her track record with everything else, he really should have realized that sooner.

“A shame, but luckily we have all of eternity to rectify that,” he said smoothly.

“Maybe you can get that ‘Big Friend’ of hers to teach her,” Husk muttered.

“Well, if he wishes to, I certainly won’t stop him!”

“What, you got anything better for him to do?”

“Hmm?” Alastor tilted his head. “Whatever do you mean?”

Husk raised an eyebrow. “Have you not made a deal with him yet?”

“A deal?” Alastor repeated, and laughed. “Why, Husker, why ever would I bother doing that?”

“Wait, what?” Amusing how that got more a reaction from the chap than nearly everything else, his face twisting in confusion. “Hold on, I thought you found this guy interesting!”

“Very interesting!” Alastor confirmed. “He’s quite the entertaining individual!”

“Then why don’t you want to drag him into a deal?”

“Because there’s no point. The very thing that makes him so entertaining makes a deal rather pointless.”

“What?”

Alastor merely chuckled at his friend’s confusion, red eyes twinkling with dark amusement. “You’re not usually this slow on the uptake, Husker!” he teased, lightly tapping the feline on the head with his cane. Husk batted it away with his usual scowl, but Alastor didn’t give him a chance to speak before asking, “You never asked for his name, did you?”

The seemingly random question seemed to throw Husk for a loop, his ire replaced by a more cautious sort of puzzlement. “Uh, no, I didn’t.”

“Mm, thought not,” Alastor replied, which seemed to frustrate his pal.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“He doesn’t have one,” Alastor said nonchalantly.

It seemed to take a moment for Husk to process that, and once he did his face went slack with surprise. “The heck? He never bothered picking a new one?” His scowl returned when Alastor chuckled again, the deer’s smile settling into a more smug smirk.

“Oh, Husker, the fact you still don’t get it just shows you’re not quite as hopeless as you believe,” he crooned, voice mocking in its sweetness. Husk looked almost bewildered with how confused he was, and Alastor merely hummed as he turned away. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, I doubt you ever will, old pal.” He could hear an annoyed huff behind him as his companion realized he had no intent of clearing it up.

Nixx’s friend was indeed quite interesting and unique. Most people who fell into Hell chose to give into their most selfish desires and impulses if they had the power to do so, living only for themselves. A sinner who devoted their afterlife to bringing punishment to another from their own life—one whose life they had already ended—was thus quite rare. And even rarer was one who so thoroughly devoted themselves to that act.

The man was like a living embodiment of the archetypal image humans had of demons in Hell, bestowing eternal torment onto some truly wretched soul as punishment for their crimes in life.

And in the process, he lost all traces of what made him human in life.

His eyes may glow within the sunken sockets of his face, but they lacked the spark of life that others had. They were empty and hollow, his face void of any true emotion. Even his anger and cruelty towards his victim was more mechanical than passionate, a deep-rooted instinct that had simply become routine.

When Alastor had inquired about his name, he learned the man hadn’t just neglected to choose a new one. He had forgotten his human name entirely.

This man was more suited for the name “Husk” than his furry friend, for even Husker still had some life and emotions beneath that pathetic drunken exterior. This nameless bloke had rendered himself nothing but an empty shell, operating on not even spite but simple habit. Making the toys was an extension of habits built while alive, the masterful craftsmanship a result of years of practice and attention to detail rather than passion.

Even Nixx herself couldn’t muster any true feelings from him. His expression softened the slightest bit around her and he indulged her whims, but Alastor could tell that was all the result of instincts carried over from life rather than any true fondness. Should he see her being threatened Alastor had no doubt he would protect her, but that would be out of a simple compulsion to protect all children rather than Nixx specifically.

Upon seeing all of that, Alastor knew there would be no value in trying to strike a deal. He struck deals these days not for power, but amusement. He enjoyed finding desperate souls at their lowest points and tempting them to take his hand, watching the hope gradually fade from their eyes as they fell deeper and deeper into his manipulations. To see the utter despair break them as they realized the futility of their situations, their escape routes closing off before their eyes one at a time.

And Nixx’s friend couldn’t feel anything. Not anymore.

Alastor had nothing the man could want, nothing he could offer. The man had condemned himself to an eternity of a hollow existence until his eventual second death, mechanically torturing his victim over a grudge he no longer felt. Alastor still intended to visit him occasionally to observe him in action, but only because he was a curiosity in his extremity.

Revenge was an ugly thing. Left unchecked it had a tendency to consume people, devour them from the inside until nothing was left. This man was a prime example of it, having given up everything to become the truest incarnation of a demon.

No Overlord would feel compelled to strike a deal with someone that empty.

Chapter Text

“Only one week remains until the Extermination!” Katie Killjoy proclaimed, smiling wide as video clips of panicking sinners played in the upper corner of the screen. “The annual scramble for shelter has already begun! Fights have broken out in desperate bids to secure bunkers! Stores are being raided for all supplies! Overlords are also already putting out lists of which sinners they want to bother keeping around for another year and which ones they’re throwing to the angels!”

“Why didn’t I make the cut!?” her co-anchor cried, pulling at his hair with a frantic look on his face. “I don’t want to die!” 

“Then you should have been better at your job, Phil!” Katie said blithely, smiling at the camera even as she shoved him off his seat. “Good luck to Phil and all others who didn’t make the essential employee cut in finding safe shelter this year! And as a reminder, we do NOT audition for new anchors so don’t bother applying if Phil bites the dust!”

Nixx just tilted her head as she watched the TV in the store window alongside a small crowd. Her ears flicked as they picked up distant yells and explosions from all directions, the noise drowning out Phil’s choked sobs. Hell had been getting extra chaotic lately, so it must be because of this Extermination thing. Looking back it had been like this last year too, though she hadn’t understood anything back then.

Now she did though. Alastor and Husk had made sure she understood how dangerous it was, and how even being at your own home wasn’t always safe. No wonder people were acting so weird.

She withdrew from the crowd and took to the skies, avoiding the fighting on the streets below. Her gaze turned towards the clock tower in the distance, glowing bright gold against the red sky. Alastor had pointed it out to her and explained how the numbers below the clock showed how many days were left until the next Extermination, getting smaller each day. From here she could see 006.

“Weeks have seven days,” she mumbled to herself, reciting what Husk had told her when explaining about clocks and time. She held up her hands and started ticking off her fingers. “One-two-three-four-five... six.”

Nixx frowned as two fingers were left folded down. Six was less than seven. That lady had lied about there being a week left, that might make people even more scared and panicked if they didn’t know about the tower. Which would make the streets even more chaotic.

Ugh. Finding food would not be easy this week. Maybe her neighbor would have some spare food to share.

Her gaze redirected to the ground, scanning the chaos unfolding below. People were rioting far more than usual, fighting and throwing things at each other as they argued. Gray miasma left the streets looking almost hazy, everyone’s ire and loathing towards one another blending together to create a smoke-like blanket of ick. Rarely had she ever seen it so thick, usually it clung close to their bodies. Dusty purples and pinks mixed in as some people stood protectively near one other, the traces so faint and sparse they were lost in the gray.

There was one stretch of road noticeably deprived of sinners though, the people seeming to give the area a wide berth. She perked up as she saw a very familiar red figure strolling down that empty street, immediately diverting from her flight path to dive towards it.

Below her Alastor barely paused in his stride when he heard a familiar cry of “Alastor!” Perking up slightly, he smoothly took one step to the side, narrowly avoiding getting dive-bombed by Nixx. The little girl promptly crashed into the ground, her tail going ramrod straight in the air above her before limply falling as she groaned.

“Well hello there, Nixx,” he greeted cheerfully as he grinned down at her. “Lovely day today, isn’t it?”

She groaned pitifully as she raised her head, face scrunched up with pain. Crashing into the ground hurt, her whole body was sore even if she wasn’t bleeding. She shook her head as she staggered to her feet, rubbing at her face. She looked up blearily at Alastor, and then quickly brightened upon seeing the telltale red mist starting to waft off his figure.

“Alastor!” she squealed in greeting again, pain forgotten. “Hi!”

“Hello,” he replied, and resumed his stroll. Nixx trailed behind him, briefly dropping to all fours to catch up to his long strides as he spoke. “What brings you out this fine afternoon? Scavenging for scraps? Searching for toys or treats? Visiting friends?”

“Bored,” she replied with a shrug. “Everyone’s acting all freaked out now because the Extermation—”

“Extermination,” he corrected patiently.

“Extermination is next week,” she said. “Lots of screaming and fighting.”

“Ah, yes, it’s quite a fun time, isn’t it?” he asked with a grin. “Panic and despair at all-time highs, each day rowdier than the last as the clock ticks down! There’s a show on every corner!”

They paused then, looking around the empty street. A sinner walked around the corner ahead of them, spotted the empty street and the Radio Demon in its center, and then turned on his heel and walked right back.

“Well, almost every corner,” he amended with a shrug while Nixx darted ahead to watch the sinner flee. Usually just the mere sight of him walking along the streets of Hell didn’t send people running for their lives, but people were jumpier than usual this time of year. It would take another day or two for the chaos to reach the point that they would ignore Alastor walking along in broad daylight, focused on their own dramas. For now, just seeing them run during his daily stroll was entertaining enough!

Nixx seemed equally amused by the reactions, or at least curious as she peeked around the corner to see the sinner break into a run. His terrified screaming set off a chain reaction, other sinners on the next street screaming and joining him in running away despite having zero context.

She watched the road quickly devolve into chaos, two small fires starting in the span of a minute, before looking up at Alastor who had joined her in peering around the corner. Her expression was puzzled, her eyebrows furrowed with a small frown. “Why are those grown-ups being stupid?” she asked, and Alastor barked out a harsh laugh at the unexpected question. The innocent confusion behind it only made it funnier.

And of course, Alastor’s laughter alerted more of the sinners to his presence, which just exacerbated the panic and chaos.

“Ha! A million dollar question, my dear!” He turned away from the pandemonium to walk in the opposite direction, Nixx once again trailing behind. “You see, some people are simply fools who lack a lick of common sense and jump at the smallest thing. You know, like monsters in the closet or under the bed—”

“There are monsters there?” Nixx interrupted in surprise.

“Ha! No. People just think there are. Just as they think there’s some dangerous threat prowling the streets right now.”

“But... why?” she asked. “What scared them?”

“Oh, nothing really. Just their own imaginations.” To Nixx’s eyes, it was quite obvious Alastor lacked any malintent due to her powers and posed no threat. The sinners lacked that ability though, and thus let their imaginations run wild with all sorts of gruesome possibilities upon seeing the Radio Demon enjoying a Sunday stroll.

Come to think of it, was Nixx aware of just how dangerous and strong Alastor was? She had stumbled upon him in the aftermath of a fight once or twice, even caught the tail-end of at least one slaughter, but he didn’t think she’d seen him at his full power. He had no idea how much she knew, and didn’t feel particularly inclined to check and inform her. He doubted knowing would change how she interacted with him, so there wasn’t really much point.

Also, her continued confusion at people reacting to him in terror was just too amusing!

He glanced down at her at the thought, and noticed her ears twitching as her head swiveled around. “Hearing some distant screams?” he guessed, and she shook her head.

“Nuh-uh. I hear... singing?”

Oh? Now that actually was rather rare! Not too rare, Hell seemed to be prone to people bursting into spontaneous musical numbers for some reason, but it was rare to find one outside on the streets. Some anxious soul bemoaning their misery and despair perhaps? Some stressed-out sinner putting their fears of the impending bloodbath into song?

Whatever the reason, it seemed to be interesting enough for Nixx to dart ahead to check it out, Alastor now the one following. He trailed after her at a sedate pace as she disappeared around a corner, and by the time he caught up to her the impromptu musical number must have ended. A blond woman was just sliding down a streetlamp with one hand, taking a breath before she turned to face the small crowd that had gathered.

She pasted on a big smile as she picked up a small, colorful box from a stack piled atop a wagon. “Okay everyone, line up and you can get a free activity kit!” she called, two winged goats flying around to offer people more boxes. “The Extermination is scary, but you can at least have some fun, quiet activities to do while hiding! The kits have snacks, too!”

The crowd initially drawn by her musical number quickly lost interest and began to disperse as she called out. Only a handful accepted a box at the mention of snacks, though even they looked less than enthused. The rest largely ignored her and her two goat companions as they returned to their previous activities.

Alastor tilted his head as he watched her fruitlessly call out to people. He had never seen her in person, but he still easily recognized the Princess of Hell. Charlotte, if he recalled correctly. He’d heard she was a soft-hearted sort who cared for her people, and seeing her trying to hand out activity kits for the Extermination seemed to reinforce that.

That made his gaze flicker to Nixx, wondering how the princess appeared to her with those mysterious intention-sensing abilities. However, to his surprise she was glaring at the scene, ears pinned back and eyes narrowed. When he followed her gaze, he found it was not focused on the princess, but the two winged goats flying about.

“Muffin thieves,” she hissed in a tone dripping with venom and loathing.

It had been three months since she had first encountered the goat twins at a bakery with a broken window. She had naturally been drawn to the muffins, and this bakery had some special ones that looked different from the rest. They had been set apart from the other muffins, with sweet-looking white glaze drizzled over the tops, and she’d been so curious since she first saw them.

And then a stupid goat got in her way to take the entire tray.

It totally ignored Nixx’s protests, didn’t even think about sharing despite there being tons of the special muffins! Even Nixx wouldn’t eat that many muffins in one sitting! It just flew out of the bakery to join the other goat, Nixx in hot pursuit, and forced her to watch them devour all the muffins before flying away.

Then she saw them again a month later at the site of a crashed delivery truck that spilled tons of pastries. The driver was busy being pulled out of the truck by someone, so Nixx was free to go through the spilled goods along with other people. While reaching for a toppled box of beautiful, delicious muffins one of the goats had appeared again, making her instantly hiss and lunge forward.

However, rather than take the glorious muffins, it had scooped up the box of the far-inferior doughnuts beside it instead.

Then, while looking at her, it grabbed two of the muffins anyway.

Nixx could only stare open-mouthed as it flew back to its twin. And they each took a single bite of the muffins while she watched before throwing them away.

Now, she was seeing them for a third time. There were no muffins in sight, but that did not diminish the flames of loathing burning in Nixx’s soul. She just knew they didn’t like normal muffins, but they had taken them JUST to spite her. The fact they taunted her didn’t matter as much as the fact that they did not think of muffins as the highest treat of all.

Alastor, of course, knew absolutely none of this history. He merely cocked his head curiously as he watched the child glare at the goats from afar with a low hiss. One of them glanced their way and paused upon noticing her, its smile replaced by a matching glare. Nixx bared her fangs at the goat which replied with a snarl of its own.

This, of course, drew the attention of one of the nearby sinners. Who turned to them and promptly noticed Alastor, and succumbed to the silly fear plaguing all the pathetic worms of Hell this time of year and screamed. That naturally drew more attention his way, and thus more terrified screams. Within an instant the crowd was fleeing in the opposite direction in a frantic stampede, the princess left watching their departure somewhat lamely.

When she glanced at the corner that had started the commotion, it was empty.

Alastor had retreated just out of sight, his shadow snatching Nixx and dragging her with him. The little girl’s cheeks were puffed in dismay as she dangled from its grasp, arms crossed in irritation. “Oh, don’t give me that look,” Alastor chided lightly, though he didn’t even bother looking at her.

“Alastor, I want to fight the muffin thieves!” she whined petulantly, starting to flail in the shadow’s grip. He twirled his cane and turned to lightly bop her on the head with it, making her flinch reflexively.

“None of that now, my dear,” he told her. “I enjoy a good fight as much as the next fellow, but I think you’re a bit inexperienced to be challenging part of the entourage of the royal family.” Nixx stared at him blankly, and he sighed and rolled his eyes as he simplified his words. “Those goats you were glaring at were with the Princess of Hell, and challenging them would just draw her attention to you.”

Her eyebrows furrowed a bit in confusion. “Princess... Like Huskelle?”

Alastor paused as he considered her. He’d thought she’d known the meaning of the title after using it for that toy version of Husker, but it appeared she was oblivious. So someone else must have assigned it that name at some point. It certainly wasn’t her “Big Friend” who clearly lacked the capacity for imagination in his hollow state. Perhaps one of her neighbors had indulged a request to play with her, and had assigned the name to the toy for some reason.

(It was only much later he would learn that Niffty had started seeking out Nixx by that point and begun planting her influence in the child. Perhaps it was for the best he’d been unaware, Niffty would have been so sad to have their interactions cut off.)

For now he dismissed the thought, humming as he contemplated how to best explain about princesses to her. “Do you remember my explanation about Lucifer?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “He’s supposed to be in charge of Hell because he’s really strong and important, but he never leaves his castle because he’s weird and sad all the time.”

“Correct, splendid memory my dear!” he praised. “If you recall, his title is king, which is the male head of the royal family. A princess is the female child of a king, and that blonde woman back there was the Princess of Hell.” He’d skip over princes since there were none—well, outside the Ars Goetia, but they seldom deigned to interact with sinners so it didn’t matter. This simplified explanation should suffice for now.

“Princess,” Nixx murmured softly, blinking up at him. “Does that make her strong like a king?”

“Certainly stronger than you!” he told her cheerfully, lightly tapping her nose with his cane as he leaned closer. “So you don’t want to upset her by getting in fights with her little goat friends in front of her, lest she try to retaliate on their behalf.”

Truthfully, he doubted the princess would try to harm Nixx—if anything, he expected the exact opposite. That brief glimpse just now just reinforced his image of her as a soft-hearted dreamer who cared for her people despite all their many, many, many flaws. A young child like Nixx who clearly still had some innocence would surely steal her heart with a glance. He wouldn’t be surprised if she decided to whisk the girl back to the safety of her castle away from the dangerous streets of Hell.

And Alastor just couldn’t have that.

Should the princess decide to take Nixx under her wing, he doubted she’d allow the child to return to the deadly streets of Hell unsupervised. That would severely impede Alastor’s ability to see her, as any chaperones would be watching their interactions much too closely for his liking. The Princess’s protective influence would also drastically alter Nixx’s development; she may become a more typical, dull child who preferred typical, dull child activities.

No, Alastor would prefer to keep Nixx to himself for now. Perhaps someday in the distant future he could get some entertainment from their interactions, but for now, it was better to keep the princess from seeing Nixx. “So, no fighting the muffin thieves?” she asked with a frown.

“Not if she’s looking, no,” he replied with a grin. The child started to droop in disappointment before abruptly perking up, eyes sparking with inspiration. She quickly schooled her face into a more neutral expression, with middling success, nodding solemnly.

“Okay, I won’t fight them if she’s looking,” she agreed, and he resisted the urge to cackle. Oh, the girl really had such a bad poker face at times! It was a good thing he’d left that loophole in his words intentionally. She then proceeded to make a laughably obvious attempt at distracting him by bringing up something else entirely. “When are we going to your home? You never told me where it is. Are you gonna get me from my home?”

Well, her questions succeeded in diverting his attention from her scheming. “My house?” he repeated curiously. “Now, why would you be interested in visiting there?”

“For the Extermination,” she replied, and... ah.

“Nixx, dear, while you made for splendid company last year, you have a home of your own now. Your apartment building has a bunker that is more than secure enough to keep out any angels.” He’d checked it himself when inspecting the building’s suitability to host her, and had been suitably impressed by its sturdiness. It further helped that not many people visited the area even during the chaos of the Extermination, so Exorcists didn’t have much reason to check the area.

Hosting Nixx last year had been a rare exception. Usually he liked to spend the day in solitude, enjoying a nice book with a finger of rye while listening to the distant screams and chaos. Perhaps stepping outside briefly to watch it in person. He’d never intended to make her visits an annual practice.

However, despite his intent, the little frown Nixx sported showed she felt very differently. The poor thing looked actually upset. “But... Why?” she asked feebly. “Are you mad at me?”

“Heavens, no!” he assured her easily. “I just think this might be a fun opportunity to get to know your neighbors. That woman next door seems like a real bearcat!”

“But... she’s a tree, though?” Nixx muttered uncertainly. “I think?”

“It’s just a turn of phrase, dear, not literal.” Her neighbor hadn’t been intimidated by Alastor’s presence, and she seemed like a swell gal who didn’t stand for any tommyrot or hokum. She hardly seemed the nurturing or motherly type, but she didn’t seem like the sort to attack a child or stand by as others did, either. So, it should be fine. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of fun, and can tell me all about it afterwards!”

In a burst of inspiration, he manifested a small minion from his shadows while speaking. It scurried off and soon returned holding one of those colorful boxes the Princess had tried to peddle to her disinterested crowd. “Look, you can even play with this!” he said as it held the box to her. “This little box the Princess put together looks like it’ll provide hours of entertainment!”

She took the box and looked down at it, giving Alastor his first good look at the so-called “activity kit” the Princess had cobbled together. The cartoonish artwork on the lid gave it a juvenile impression, suggesting the “activities” within to be similarly childish and banal. It was a hilariously tone-deaf creation that would likely bore and even insult most sinners, but should be perfectly appealing to an actual child like Nixx.

However, Nixx did not seem placated by the offering, her ears pinned flat and her face scrunched with sadness. “But.. but... I want to spend it with you...”

“Now Nixx, there’s no need to...” And he trailed off, because her eyes were starting to grow shiny and her nose scrunched up as her breath gave a shaky hitch.

Alastor froze, the picture of a deer in the headlights, as he realized she was about to cry.

His mind went momentarily blank as he watched her shoulders start to tremble, listening to her shaky breaths. Alastor made no attempt to pretend to himself that he was soft or kind, but he still did not want to see a child cry. He had no idea how to handle such displays of emotions beyond taking sadistic glee in others’ misery, and he would get no joy from this instance.

He couldn’t just leave like this, either. The mere thought of abandoning her to cry on the streets after he caused her tears, inadvertent as it was, left a sour taste in his mouth.

So before the waterworks could properly begin, he sighed to himself and reached out, her whole body freezing as he lightly patted her head. “Now, Nixx, throwing a tantrum when you don’t get your way is hardly proper behavior,” he scolded lightly. “You need to understand that you won’t always get what you want. And besides, tears do not suit a cheerful little thing such as yourself! So wipe your eyes and put on a smile, alright?”

Nixx didn’t respond, just stared up at him with wide, shocked eyes. He was confused by the reaction until her gaze flickered to his arm, making him realize his hand was still resting atop her head. This marked perhaps the first time he had ever initiated contact with her.

Before Alastor could retract it Nixx dropped the box and lunged forward, and he staggered back as she collided with his chest with a delighted squeal that would put dolphins to shame. He stood frozen with arms lifted at his sides as the child squeezed her limbs around his torso in a tight hug, making more happy-sounding squeaks and noises. He swore more eyes appeared on the walls and street around them, all staring directly at him as the small bat girl nuzzled his front.

The thought of an audience to this display, even the disembodied eyes that littered Hell, was enough to snap him out of his stunned stupor. He blinked away his wide-eyed stare while his shadow finally moved to pry her off. Nixx released her hold on his torso easily, still beaming at him even as his shadow held her at eye level by the back of her dress. Her tail was swaying rapidly not unlike a dog’s, a giddy smile on her face.

Alastor regarded her with his usual smile, no traces of his earlier shock visible. “Well this has been fun, but I still have some errands to run today, so tata for now!”

She nodded mutely, still positively beaming, and his shadow set her down before wrapping around him to warp away. The child was left alone on the street, but her smile was no less bright as she twirled around a few times in sheer glee. She snatched up the box in her spinning and shoved it inside her wing as they spread wide and began flapping. She gave a literal jump for joy and flipped through the air, making more high-pitched sounds of delight as she flew off.

Alastor was just as nice to hug as she’d always thought.