Chapter Text
Husk searched in one of the many bars throughout the mansion for a drink that wouldn't make him unconscious at the first sip. You'd think it would be easy to find something along the lines of 'social drinking' instead of 'I want to forget my own name in the next five seconds', but when the house belonged to the First Fallen and the First Woman with thousands of years of drink resistance, it was not surprising that most were concoctions prepared by the Lady of Gluttony herself.
Finally he found a wine that seemed mild enough. Not his usual drink choice, but it would do.
His muscles relaxed at the first sip of alcohol and Husk sighed, clenching and unclenching his hand. There was still some of Charlie's blood on his fur. He should go take a bath and rest a little, but his mind wouldn't leave him alone.
If you asked him who the scariest person in this place was, Husk would say without a doubt that it was Queen Lilith. It had been terrifying and awe-inspiring several months ago as everyone tried to shake off the shit storm that Adam's death left in its wake (aka cult fan revenge), but in that moment, when she saw her daughter wounded, Husk felt a fear that would easily enter the list of the most terrifying situations in his life. And for once it wasn't even fear for himself, but for the damn bastard that possessed his soul.
Charlie had tried to argue that she was fine, that it was just a shoulder injury. No one else seemed to think the same or want to dwell on Charlie's screams that he was still on her side and hadn't meant to hurt her, just incapacitate her. But Husk had been there, his head spinning after Alastor threw him against a wall (close to the bar and furniture, with enough room to hide and stay out of sight while he caught his breath). He had heard Alastor's strange tonal changes as he seemed to talk to himself. And he was also the one who patched up the wound.
Alastor had been the first aid instructor at one of Charlie's activities. She and Vaggie had argued with him whenever he became too explicit about the type of injuries that could be sustained, but Alastor continued to complain that they took away the fun and focused for a few minutes on the really important issues.
The man's wounds were relatively non-lethal, damn painful, quite incapacitating at the time, bled profusely, and were also easy to patch up and heal. Husk doubted Charlie realized that Alastor was actually telling her where to aim in case of need for a person who was so reluctant to cause permanent damage.
‘ Poor little thing, you're shaking like a leaf.’ The tone was mocking, echoing and with a syrupy cadence, but it didn't have the dark vibe that the Radio Demon's threats carried. ‘ Stay still, dear. I promise this won't hurt you much. Trust me .’ The warm cadence mixed with mockery that Alastor used when he wanted to reach people, the lower tone and, beneath that, a taste of sincerity.
Alastor mixed truth and lies, seriousness and mockery, in a way that Husk always found maddening. It was like seeing a slightly curved mirror, making it difficult to see the true reflection.
The wound wasn't as deep as it looked, although Charlie's wide movements threatened to make it worse, and it was a clean cut. It wasn't the kind of wound Alastor would do if he really wanted to hurt his prey. And Husk knew him. Alastor did not hesitate to inflict damage when he wanted to. He had seen more than one torture carried out by an Alastor with a wide smile and mocking comments. He had also once feared that he would find himself on the end of one of his knives or claws.
The problem with Alastor was that he was mostly reasonable and it actually took a lot to get him to the point of violence despite his seemingly mercurial behavior. It was easy to forget that Alastor could destroy your soul, pull on your leash like a dog, and make you feel like trash under his polished shoe when Alastor mostly left you alone, gave his orders under the guise of requests, and listened to what you had to say even if you were calling him a narcissistic asshole. It was easy to forget the threat until you accidentally pressed a bruise that had been hidden and Alastor lashed out with the fury (and desperation) of cornered prey.
For decades Husk had carried the ever-present weight of the chain around his neck, choking him to the same extent as the pride of having Alastor's trust softened that shame and pain.
Angel had once lashed out, pointing out that their situations were different, Husk didn't know what it was like to love and forgive the one who possessed his soul. Husk had remained silent, but only because it was always difficult to explain his relationship with Alastor. They were not lovers like Valentino and Angel were. Husk did not love Alastor the way Angel had once loved Valentino, nor did Alastor desire him with the crude, cruel need that drove Valentino. But, in a twisted way, Alastor and Husk had also developed their own codependency. Alastor listened to Husk's advice, took his opinions into account, had allowed him to mend his wounds and protect him when he was vulnerable.
That didn't stop Husk from fantasizing about his freedom, from regretting the deal he made five days out of seven, but now that he finally had it...
Husk felt empty. Abandoned. Lost and adrift.
Alastor would never call him again.
Alastor would never ask for his advice again.
Alastor would never trust him with his vulnerability again.
Why wasn't knowing that he would never again be forced to humiliate himself by the capricious demon any consolation?
Husk was now free. He could make deals again without the souls he won going to feed the power of the Radio Demon. He could once again exalt himself to his former glory. He could do and go wherever he fucking wanted without his soul being pulled at any moment by a narcissist with a diva complex.
And he couldn't enjoy it without feeling guilty!
Punishment, Lucifer punished Alastor. He broke his deals and who knows what else.
(Alastor is vulnerable.
He’s endangered.
)
Husk downed half the bottle taking long gulps and then bitterly let himself fall into a messy pile.
Where was he going to go from here?
(What was Alastor going to do?)
Should… Should Husk come back into the game?
There were three things in the Pride Ring that would get you to the top of the food chain: territory, souls, and money.
The territory gave you a base from which to operate and gather resources, the most powerful monopolizing them when they wanted to make a brand (The Demon of the Radio, The largest producer of pornography in the ring, the person responsible for every media technology produced and distributed, The Lord of the Casinos ). It was how many got started and why there were so many petty warlords fighting over the gray areas or serving an Overlord.
Money was influence. Of course it spun this semi-functional dystopia of eternal life. Capitalism didn't end just because you had died. It could help a warlord like Pentious remain semi-independent, it could help someone like Chery continue her lone anarchist act, it could make you think that if you just had enough your life would get better only to lose it all in a casino that accepted souls instead of mortgages.
Souls, on the other hand, were power. Power to the demon that received them. The most precious currency and the most coveted good.
Anyone who didn't have a deal, big or small (and honestly in hell that was a very small number of people), didn't know what the weight of the chain felt like. It was like an ever-present knot of anxiety, lurking like a hunter in the confines of your mind and ready to drag you down with the weight of your own choices at the least expected moment.
Not all treatments were equal, not all weights were so unavoidable. For centuries, trading with souls had become business and art, protection and danger. Few could afford to run a one-man (or woman in the case of Cherri Bomb) show. There was a certain security in belonging to someone more powerful and meaner, just as there were souls that were sold cheap by the dozen and others that were worth incalculable risks.
The Vees had built their empire on partial deals to get the number of souls they needed. Many, Husk imagined, didn't see much of a difference between giving up your literal soul for an eight-plus hour job and the life they lived on earth. And if there was more blood and abuse this was fucking hell, deal with it . Job offers for a living and some protection for anyone who wasn't a Vee.
Rosie? That woman could be kind and pretend that she was wonderful at listening and advising, but underneath the silk she maintained an iron grip on her people, she had to do it to be able to subdue so many cannibals and keep them united under a single flag. As far as Husk knew, Alastor was the only one who had slipped through his fingers, and that probably had to do with both Alastor's early bloody days and how profitable their alliance was.
She, Zestial and Alastor made deals in very similar ways. Elegant, friendly and charismatic. They would do you a favor, they would scratch your back, you would shake their hand and they would end up ripping your arm off and making you thank them.
There was a reason why almost all Sovereigns traded in seemingly innocuous favors. An exchange, a tit for tat that would make you perch comfortably on the net while they wove it around you.
Husk easily remembered those golden days when he had touched the pinnacle of power. Nights full of liquor, music and games. Money and souls passing from hand to hand, the noise around him making him feel intoxicated and alive in a way that nothing on earth could compare to.
He had also felt a certain pride in the clientele who came to his place. Sovereign Overlords. The most powerful among sinners considered their casino a neutral place, ideal for having fun and negotiating, allowing the illusion of prestige and influence that they so wanted to achieve.
How many gun sales had Carmilla Carmine made in his place? How many nights had he entertained Vox and Alastor when the television-headed demon wanted a good cigar and a stimulating game of cards? How many game nights had he organized for Rosie's cannibals? How many times had Zeezi organized a de-stressing getaway at his place? How many overlords from other cities had come because he was an acclaimed landmark in Pentagram City? How many closed-door meetings had he seen happen in VIP rooms?
Husk used to be important .
Until the losing streak began. Suddenly the House lost more than it gained in bills...and in souls.
It all started after a game with a certain Overlord, one who was said to bring bad luck in his wake. Even after dismembering him and throwing him into a pit of acid that had not ended the curse that apparently afflicted him and all his businesses.
In desperation he had agreed to the game with Alastor. If he could take the soul of the Radio Demon and all his dealings he would have more than recovered. He would enter the big leagues in one move.
Greed had led him to lose everything he had left. Whether Alastor had been better at cheating or Husk's streak was truly unrecoverable, the end result was the same.
He had lost.
Husk was not surprised when at the darkest hour of the night his musings were interrupted. A series of demons crept out noiselessly, all passing by where Husk was hiding. They were the ones Husk suspected still had dealings with Alastor.
(The best thing was to call the souls he still had. Tighten the leashes, ensure loyalty, close ranks so that others would not smell so much blood in the water.)
They wouldn't come back.
(And, despite what Charlie wanted, neither would Alastor.)
Near dawn, when Husk was carrying three more bottles, other demons began to leave. Some louder than others. Husk was sure that some had even stolen some expensive looking items.
There was one that Husk didn't like to see go and she was the only one he stopped. Niffty.
“Niffty?” He called her, slurring his words a little. The small woman turned to him.
“Husk!” She was smiling brightly, her little hands opening and closing, but her one eye had none of her manic joy. “Are you staying?” It wasn't a question.
“Where are you going?” He asked instead of answering, standing up a little wobbly.
“To find Alastor, of course!” Husk took a deep breath.
"Now you're free," he pointed out. "And Charlie would like you to stay." The poor girl was going to have a rude awakening when she saw how many had left, but it would be much worse when she realized that Alastor wasn't coming back and Niftty had followed him. . “Your friends are here and you like your job.”
“I like bad boys~” she said in a low intonation and smiling maniacally. “And I like my bad boy, not the big bad boy that hurt him.” Her eye had a menacing gleam. “I'm going with Alastor. Are you going to stay?”
Husk opened and closed his mouth. He didn't have an answer. Why didn't he have an answer?
“Why shouldn't I stay?” he asked instead. He wasn't expecting a response, he was just saying his thoughts out loud.
“You are pathetic. You both are,” a voice interrupted from behind them. Out of the shadows appeared a demon resembling a coyote, her thin tail moving behind her back.
Lettie. Husk's whiskers twitched apprehensively. Not only because he hadn't heard her coming, distracted as he was with Niffty, but because until now he hadn’t known if she had been one of those who was freed or one of those who remained chained. Either would have been a bad option.
There were some sinners who thought that Alastor had gone soft and decided to find a way to betray him. Every attempt was over quickly , but that did not mean that some didn’t have hopes of going from slave to master. Husk had warned him about Lettie, a landowner whose territory and then soul had ended up falling to one of Alastor's oldest deals.
Husk had felt it, but he hadn't considered, hadn't wanted to consider, that when Lucifer pulled the thread that tied them to Alastor a domino effect had followed that also removed the threads that tied them to their own deals. Alastor's pyramid method of gaining power and becoming stronger had backfired on all of them.
“You're a pathetic little thing who's been that bastard's deranged pet for so long that you run off to obediently put the chain back on. You make me sick . You're worse than one of those bugs you love to chase. You should stick one of your needles into yourself and free us all from your insufferable existence,” she spat at her with shining eyes. Husk remembered that she was once punished for making Nifty cry. She must have been ecstatic to be able to get everything off of her chest. “You know what would be lovely?” she asked in a mocking voice, almost shaking with pleasure. “If I could just stab that big bastard over and over and over again like one of your bugs. Leave his skinny ass hanging from a pole for everyone to see the fucking Radio Demon for the pathetic little creature he really is. I’m sure Vox would love that. Don’t you think, Husker? Don’t you want a little revenge, kitty~?”
Husk refused to answer, his eyes focused on Niffty who had begun to shake in rage. No matter how fast Niff was, Letie was not only a fast and vicious fighter but at this moment she was an animal out for blood.
Her lupine face twisted into an ugly grimace when she received no reaction. Her teeth clenched and she looked ready to jump on Husk and tear him apart with her own teeth.
“ And you .” She pointed at Husk and laughed. “You became his house cat when he took your claws away. No more than his personal ass-licker so you could gossip and he could ruin other lives. Did it make you feel better?”
Husk inhaled slowly. He didn't find it strange that she wanted to be cruel to him. He was actually a little surprised that she hadn't gone straight to violence. It all came down to the way Alastor handled his dealings and the people under his control and protection.
The softest deal Alastor had ever made was with Mimzy.
He guarded her soul so that it would not fall into much worse hands again and could never order her to do anything she did not want. Everything else that happened between them? Mimzy bringing him his problems and Alastor cleaning them up? Completely free and guided by the affection he felt for Mimzy and to boost his own ego by playing the defender of the impious damsel.
Alastor had a habit of helping even more than what his deal said. Many times exchanging small favors, nonsense that was a formality when in reality Alastor did it for his own ego or because it got him out of his boredom. Or, in very special cases, because that soul mattered to Alastor . And it was that special case which led Alastor to become directly involved in that dispute. That particular incident many years ago, the first few months after Alastor won Husk's soul.
Alastor was a terrible winner and a worse loser. When he had won Husk’s soul he had laughed condescendingly. ' Don't worry, dear kitten, you can keep your place,' he had told him, holding him down by his chain and patting his head. Husk was scared, but he was also freed of the life of servitude to which he had been condemned. ' You've already hit rock bottom. I think you'll find that things start to get better. ’
After that he had broken a pin that Husk was wearing, the one he had won from that three-time damned player before his losing streak began. Alastor broke it under his shoe and acid yellow smoke came out.
‘ Ta-Da. Happy night, my friend,' he told him happily. 'I'll see you in a few days,' he finished with a creepy atmosphere before leaving, happily twirling his staff.
In the following days, Husk confirmed with displeasure that his losing streak had actually diminished. He also verified that the souls he now claimed were not going to end up with him, at least not completely. Some of his power seemed to be diverted elsewhere.
Three nights after his departure Alastor showed up and pointed him to a room, starting to walk and only making a slightly threatening gesture when he realized that Husk had hesitated to follow him.
They drank and talked about the last few days. Alastor made it clear that he would call him if he needed him, but until then he was free to follow his hellish life as he pleased. Those first few months were filled with caution as Husk realized that for the most part his life under Alastor's control had not changed as much as he had thought, apart from the occasional occasions when Alastor would come to his place to ask for something or summon him in an out of hand, rude way.
His surprise only increased the first time he lost his temper while discussing some bullshit plan to take over territory Alastor apparently wanted. Or one of his deals wanted, rather.
‘ You heard it, dear. Your plan is not feasible,' he said to the porcupine demon who bristled before relaxing under Alastor's gaze. ' What do you suggest then, Husker? ' Husk gave his opinion tensely, sure that at any moment Alastor would torture him, but that didn't happen. He didn't even get a warning at the end.
In a strange way Alastor and Husk had become closer in the year since he sold his soul to him than in the decade the Radio Demon had been frequenting his place. It was then that Husk noticed that Alastor only relaxed around the male demons to the extent that he saw them as weaker than him, and he could get an idea or two as to why.
But where Husk had grown closer to the unstoppable force that was Alastor by falling into his grip and shrinking into a way that wasn't quite friendship, but wasn't quite servitude either, Lettie had lost everything thanks to Husk's words that day.
He wasn't surprised that she hated him.
(Even if that was just the game)
“And now that you're free, you're going to what? Play house with Valentino's favorite whore? Redeem yourself?” Lettie laughed muffledly. “D on't you really want to take a chance yourself? Think about it, put a leash on the little radio beast~, be the one to pull on the collar and make him kneel and humiliate himself,” she said, salivating with the joy that the idea brought her. “Dominating him or slitting that bastard’s throat, anyone would practically be having an orgasm at the thought, including me, but you, you’re a good-for-nothing little piece of trash that walks around pining like a whore who’s no longer wanted. Is it because you were his favorite? Did you think you were special~?” She laughed obnoxiously, clapping her hands in amusement. Husk bared his teeth at her (he didn’t want to show how close her assumptions were. Husk was really pathetic). “You know, many are going to come for you~ and you no longer have his protection.”
“And neither do you,” Husk sneered back. God, Alastor should have killed the resentful bitch when he had the chance and taken her deals. He shouldn't have kept her around just because he tried one of her stews and liked the idea of having her come over whenever he wanted, or needed, someone to cook for him. Including when the Hazbin Hotel grew big enough to need more hands. Were the multiple poisoning attempts not a red flag? Did he really think that simply forbidding her from poisoning the food that was meant for Charlie and anyone under his protection was enough? Was he so arrogant as to not care that that protection didn't seem to cover him specifically? Or was he a suicidal, masochistic jerk who enjoyed watching her try and fail to kill him and turn other souls against him?
“Didn't you notice?” He leaned towards her, showing his teeth. Husk didn't want to protect Alastor, it wasn't his job or his duty. They weren't even true friends. But right now, with one of the threats against Alastor right in front of him, he felt duty-bound to at least mitigate the damage where he could (Stockholm or Charlie's influence? Husk didn't have the mental energy to delve deeper into the question.) “You have lost all your souls. Do you really think you can handle me like this? Much less Alastor. He’ll eat you for breakfast."
“Someone will do it,” she told him tensely and started to walk towards the exit. “That bastard's days are numbered. When they know that he lost souls and that the king has sworn against him, they will line up to kill him. Someone will be successful. It'll probably be Vox, and I can't wait to see what he and Valentino will do to him. Finally they can use the real one instead of a whore that looks like him," she said with a lewd movement. "I might even help them a little, when Vox knows the places he can go he will surely reward me~"
Husk took a deep breath and cursed Alastor. Damn crazy man who thought about sparing someone's life and invoking her from time to time because you liked the way she made food even if from time to time she added something like mercury as a seasoning.
Lettie knew many of Alastor's safe houses and the souls he possessed.
Possibly she had even heard a lot of information those days.
Husk dug his nails into his palm. It wasn't his problem. It shouldn't matter . It was Alastor's business whether his many mistakes and sins finally caught up with him.
“I will see you at his fune…”
Husk didn't have to do anything.
Niffty had not allowed the walking menace against Alastor to even reach the threshold of the entrance.