Chapter Text
The V Tower penthouse reeked of ozone, expensive cologne, and Vox’s mounting hysteria.
“Twenty fucking minutes!” Vox snarled, pacing in front of the wall of screens like a caged shark. Blue sparks snapped between the antennae on his head. “Twenty minutes of dead air across the entire entertainment district. Do you have any idea how much money that cost us? How many contracts I had to renegotiate on the spot?”
Velvette lounged sideways across a sleek black couch, legs kicked over the armrest, scrolling through footage on her tablet. Valentino reclined opposite her, blowing a lazy pink heart-shaped smoke ring toward the ceiling. He wasn’t even pretending to pay attention.
“Relax, baby,” Val drawled, voice syrupy and bored. “It was a blackout, not the extermination. Power came back. People will forget.”
“They won’t forget if I don’t make them forget,” Vox hissed. “Find me the fucker who did this. Now.”
Velvette sighed theatrically but tapped faster. “Fine, fine. Security feeds are a mess, but—” She sat up slowly, eyes narrowing at a single frozen frame. The corner of her mouth curled. “Hold on, I think we got her. Now tell me this doesn’t look like a fuckin’ Alastor mini-me.”
The room went dead silent.
Vox teleported across the space in a burst of static, leaning so close to the tablet that his screen face nearly touched the glass. “What? Where? Show me.”
Velvette turned the tablet toward him. The image was grainy but unmistakable: a slender figure with long, light-pink hair, delicate brown antlers branching from her head, and silver-white fur that caught the emergency lights like moonlight. She stood half-shadowed in the server room, one clawed hand pressed to a console, eyes glowing a soft, eerie red. Even in the still frame, the resemblance was uncanny—same sharp smile lines, same unsettling grace, just… softer. Girlier.
Vox’s left eye glitched hard, pupils shrinking to frantic red slits. “No. No fucking way. That’s impossible. Alastor doesn’t have—he can’t—that’s not—”
Valentino finally looked up, leaning forward as he studied the image. A slow grin spread across his face.
“Damn,” he purred, low and appreciative. “She’s hot as fuck.”
Velvette snorted. “Of course that’s your takeaway.”
“I’m serious, baby. Look at those legs. That little waist. And the antlers? Cute.” Val snapped his fingers at her. “Send that screenshot to my phone. Right now.”
Velvette rolled her eyes but did it anyway.
“You two have fun playing detective,” Valentino said, standing and turning toward the door. “I’ve got a shoot in twenty. Angel’s coming, and if I’m late he gets whiny.”
Vox hadn’t looked away from the frozen image. “Val, this could be connected to Alastor. If she’s related—”
“Then she’ll be even more fun to play with,” Val called over his shoulder, voice dripping with lazy malice. “Imagine the headlines. ‘Radio Demon’s secret spawn gets railed on camera.’ Ratings would go through the roof.” He laughed, pink smoke trailing as he disappeared down the corridor.
Velvette watched him go, then glanced back at Vox, who was still staring at the girl like she’d personally murdered his mother.
“Fuckin’ hell, here we go,” she muttered under her breath.
“He’s mine to destroy,” Vox whispered, claws digging into the edge of the console. “If she’s his… then she’s mine too.”
Angel Dust slouched against the headboard of the oversized bed, four arms lazily draped over his knees, trying to look bored instead of exhausted.
Valentino sat in his director’s chair at the foot of the set, barking orders at the crew in-between ramblings. Cherry-vanilla cologne and cigarette smoke wafted off him every time he gestured.
“So anyway,” Val continued to no one in particular, “the girl looks like a cute, pink, mini Alastor. Antlers and everything. Can you fuckin’ believe that?”
Angel’s eyes snapped open. “Wait, what?”
Valentino grinned, turning the phone toward him. The screenshot was exactly what Val described—and then some.
Angel whistled low. “Damnnn. She’s hot.”
“That’s what I said!” Val laughed, and the nearest crew member flinched. “Hopefully the boys track her down soon. I could use a fresh face. Even if she isn’t Alastor’s cursed spawn, we could still milk the blackout angle.”
Angel forced a smirk, but his stomach twisted. He knew that tone—the one Val used when he was itching to break someone slow.
“Yeah, well… good luck with that,” Angel muttered, already mentally checking out. “She looks like she bites.”
Valentino’s grin widened, gold tooth flashing. “Mmm. I hope so.”
The rest of the shoot dragged by in a haze of lights, moans, and Val’s barked commands. Angel barely registered any of it. By the time he stumbled out of the studio, all he could think about was the strange, fragile safety waiting back at the hotel.
The lobby of the Hazbin Hotel was unusually lively for a slow afternoon.
Cherri Bomb lounged on the couch, one leg kicked over the armrest, popping bubblegum. “It was only like twenty minutes, what’s the big deal?”
Vaggie stood nearby with her arms crossed, spear propped against the bar. “The big deal is nobody knows what caused it. If the Vees are planning something—”
Angel pushed through the double doors, still half-dressed in his work coat, and flopped dramatically onto the opposite couch. “What are we talking about?”
“The blackout in the entertainment district this morning,” Cherri answered, sitting up.
Angel grinned, wide and easy, the kind that usually got him out of trouble. “Oooh, I got insider info on that.”
Vaggie raised an eyebrow. “Spill.”
Angel leaned in, voice dropping. “Apparently it was some girly-Alastor knockoff. Val showed me a screenshot. He wants her for a shoot. Bad.”
A sharp crackle of radio static sliced through the air.
Alastor materialized behind the couch, tall and grinning, his eyes flicking toward Angel with sudden, sharp interest.
Husk looked up from behind the bar, absently polishing a glass. “Alastor knockoff? The fuck you talkin’ about, Angel?”
Angel suddenly looked a lot less comfortable. He sat up straighter, glancing sideways at the Radio Demon.
“Exactly that. You know…deer-like features, creepy red eyes, but pink hair and silver fluff. Not to mention a clear hatred of the Vees.”
Everyone’s eyes turned to Alastor.
The Overlord tilted his head, ears perked with apparent delight, but his crimson eyes gleamed with something colder. Calculating. Possessive in a way that had nothing to do with his usual theatrical hunger for entertainment.
“My, my. A miniature version of myself causing trouble for our dear Vox?” His smile sharpened by a fraction. “Tell me, Angel dear… do you know if they learned the young lady’s name?”
Angel shook his head quickly. “No clue.”
Alastor’s antlers grew a single, subtle inch, shadows flickering behind him. He chuckled softly.
“How intriguing indeed…”
Elizabeth woke strapped upright to a small, uncomfortable couch, heavy chains binding her wrists and ankles. Her long pink hair stuck to her sweat-dampened silver fur. Brown antlers throbbed where they’d been zapped.
The smell of ozone and cherry-vanilla cologne hit her like a train, and her eyes snapped open.
She was in a dimly lit room, somewhere high in the V Tower. Cyan neon tubes buzzed softly along the obsidian walls, throwing harsh blue light across the cold black tile. Security cameras glowed red in the corners like eyes, while a monitor on the side wall flickered with live feeds of the city.
Valentino lounged next to her, legs crossed, one arm resting on the back of the couch, the other three resting demurely in his lap. He stared at her, grinning like he’d already caught her in his teeth.
Velvette stood off to the side, arms crossed, scrolling on her phone with obvious disinterest. “She’s awake. Great. You two handle your little science project. I’ve got actual work to do.” She swiped once, changing her own outfit mid-step, and sauntered out without a backward glance. The door hissed shut behind her.
Elizabeth felt the cold claw drag along her shoulder before she saw him. Vox appeared in her vision, his screen face flickering with static and barely-contained rage. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at his glowing eye.
“Alright, little deer. How the fuck did a low-tier nobody like you fry my district grid for twenty minutes? That kind of power surge shouldn’t be possible without Overlord-level backing.” His left eye spiraled into hypnotic rings. “Tell me everything. Now.”
Elizabeth felt the pull—the sick, oily command trying to worm into her skull. She bared sharp teeth and spat in his face instead. “Go fuck yourself, flat-screen.”
Vox’s eye glitched hard. The hypnosis bounced off her like arrows off a shield. He snarled and tried again, voice layering with digital distortion. “Tell me how you got into my servers.”
Her eyes widened, her mouth parted. Vox’s smile began to curl in victory.
“By fucking your mom.”
Vox’s smile dropped like he just got slapped. “What the—? That’s not—! How are you resisting you little bitch!”
Elizabeth threw her head back in a laugh, completely unfazed.
Valentino uncrossed his long legs beside her, shifting closer. “Relax, Voxxy. Brute force never works on the fun ones.” He took a long drag from his cigarette, and exhaled a slow, thick puff of pink smoke directly into her face. The smoke curled sweet, sinking into her lungs. “Let’s try my way. Tell us everything, baby. How long you been in Hell? What makes a pretty thing like you tick? And most importantly…” His voice dropped into silky venom. “Are you Alastor’s? Because you sure as fuck look like his secret shame.”
The toxin hit like warm honey laced with razor blades. Elizabeth’s limbs grew heavy. Her head lolled. She blinked, gritting her teeth against the haze. Shadows lashed at her feet, itching to strike. “Fuck… you...”
Valentino let out a deep, throaty laugh and exhaled another controlled plume, this one slower, more intimate, curling around her nose and forcing her to breathe it in. The cloud enveloped her completely. Her ears twitched. A soft, involuntary sigh slipped from her lips as the edges of her vision turned hazy and pink.
“Mmm, that’s it, cariño. Lean into it.”
Elizabeth’s resistance melted with each breath. The shadows at her feet curled weaker at her ankles like sleepy snakes. Her head drooped onto Valentino’s shoulder.
“Ohhh, would you look at this,” Vox purred, voice dropping into a low, buzzing hum that vibrated through the air. He tilted her head back up, forcing those half-lidded eyes to stay locked on his display. “The little shadow slut is playing friendly now. Val, you beautiful bastard—your stuff never misses.”
Valentino dragged a single clawed finger slowly up Elizabeth’s thigh, squeezing the soft silver fur. “See? You play nice and they play nice back.”
Vox traced a claw over her bottom lip, parting it gently. “Let’s try this again, shall we? How did you get into my servers?”
Elizabeth’s mouth moved before her mind could catch up. She nipped playfully at his claw with a dazed little giggle. “I teleported into your server room… Then I infiltrated the interface… found the fragile little tether that connects you to your grid… and coaxed it into shorting.”
Valentino rewarded her immediately with another deep puff of pink smoke, his hand squeezing her thigh harder, inching higher. “Mm, good girl. Breathe it in deeper, princesa… let it melt that pretty little brain.”
Vox, meanwhile, wasted no time. He dragged a small console closer on rolling wheels, wires snaking out like living things. “Replicate what you did to my servers. Show me exactly how you did it so I can make sure no one can ever do it again.”
Valentino’s hands grew bolder, one feeling up her side, the other inching higher on her leg. “Or maybe we skip the questions and just have some fun first. She’s already giggling like a cheap whore. Bet she’d look real pretty on her knees.”
She tried to shift towards Valentino, chains clinking.
Valentino laughed darkly and obliged, pulling her into his lap until she was straddling one thigh, her back resting against his chest. “Aw, look at this! Can we keep her, Voxxy? She’d make such a perfect little co-star.”
Vox snapped his fingers at them both. “Hey, can we focus?”
Valentino pressed a kiss to her neck, then locked eyes with Vox as he whispered in her ear. “You heard him, baby. Be a good girl and demonstrate for us. Give Daddy Vox what he wants.”
Elizabeth’s hands moved on their own. Shadowy tendrils seeped from her palms, flowing into the console. A second later, sparks flew. Vox’s screen lit up with data, greedy and triumphant.
“Now onto my questions, babygirl,” Valentino purred as he took another slow drag from his cigarette. He tilted her head back and blew the toxin directly into her mouth. “Tell me who your daddy is.”
Her hips shifted against his thigh, a soft, needy sound escaping her. “Mm… you,” she answered cutely, voice breathy and dazed, ears twitching.
Valentino chuckled, low and delighted. His lower set of arms slid down to grip her hips, guiding her into a slow, rolling grind against the hard muscle of his thigh. His upper hands gently turned her face toward his. “Not what I was asking, mi cariño, but I’ll take it.”
He kissed her like he already owned her, one clawed hand gripped her jaw firmly, tongue sliding past her lips. The taste of him was overwhelming—sweet artificial cherry mixed with sex and nicotine. A low, amused hum vibrated from his chest into her mouth as he tilted his head, changing the angle so he could kiss her even deeper, fucking her mouth with his tongue until she was whimpering into it.
Vox finally tore his gaze away from the console, screen flickering with static and hunger. “Val, we need more than flirtation. If she’s connected to Alastor—”
“Shh,” Valentino waved one hand lazily, never stopping the steady grind of Elizabeth’s hips. “Let me soften her up first. She’s so much sweeter like this.” He nipped at her neck, teeth grazing silver fur. “Come on, princesa. Tell Daddy Val the truth. Is the Radio Demon your real daddy? Did he hide you away all these years like a dirty little secret?”
Elizabeth whimpered, grinding harder against his thigh as the toxin dragged her deeper under. Her shadows flickered weakly at her feet. “I… I don’t… he doesn’t know…”
Valentino’s grin widened, all gold teeth and predatory glee. “Ohhh, that’s precious. He doesn’t even know he has a daughter? Poor little thing, running around Hell all alone, playing tough.” He blew another long puff of smoke into her face, then reached down with two hands to tug her top higher, exposing her breasts. His claws circled her nipples until they pebbled under his touch. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll take much better care of you than he ever could.”
Vox’s screen flashed brighter, static crackling with arousal as he watched her fall apart. His hand had dropped to palm his cock through his pants. “Keep her talking. I need to know how deep her connection to Alastor goes.”
Valentino grew bolder. He shifted her fully onto his lap so she straddled both thighs, her back pressed tight to his chest. One set of arms held her hips, guiding her to grind against the growing bulge in his pants. Another hand roamed her chest, pinching and rolling her nipples until she moaned openly. The last slid between her legs, claws deftly undoing what remained of her clothes and stroking through slick folds.
“¡Sí, eso es, mi princesita,” he purred hotly against her ear, voice thick with lust. “Fuck yourself on Daddy’s fingers. Look at you—getting so wet for us.” One hand pressed against her front, feeling her grind against his palm. “That’s it… nice and slow. Make it pretty for Voxxy.”
She was panting now, body trembling as pleasure built against her will. The toxin kept her mind soft and pliant, but flashes of shame still cut through—distant screams in the back of her head that sounded too much like her childhood bedroom.
Valentino didn’t let her linger there. He blew more smoke into her mouth, then snapped the chains with a casual twist of his claws. He repositioned her on all fours on the couch, ass raised high.
“Fuck…” Vox muttered. He stepped closer, freeing his cock, one hand shooting out to grip one of her small antlers like a handle. “Open up for me, let’s see how Al’s little spawn takes Vox’s cock.”
Elizabeth’s lips parted obediently. Vox pushed in slowly at first, then deeper, static buzzing against her tongue as she took him into her mouth. She gagged softly when he hit the back of her throat, but the steady stream of toxin kept her relaxed and eager.
Behind her, Valentino freed himself—his cock thick, ridged, already leaking. He rubbed the head along her slick entrance, teasing. “Such a good girl for us. Breathe, baby.” He thrust in with one smooth motion, burying himself to the hilt.
Elizabeth cried out around Vox’s length, the sound muffled and broken.
“¡Coño… that’s it, baby,” Valentino growled, hands gripping her hips, claws digging in deep enough to draw pinpricks of blood. “Fuck her harder, Voxxy. I want to make her cry.”
Vox groaned, static flaring, and began thrusting into her mouth in time with Valentino’s strokes. The room filled with the wet sounds of skin slapping skin and Elizabeth’s muffled moans and whimpers.
“Nngh—! Fuck— yes—!” Vox’s voice glitched wildly. “Suck Daddy Vox’s cock. Deeper—take me deeper. Good girl… such a perfect little whore for us.”
Valentino laughed breathlessly, pounding into her harder. “You’re doing so good, baby. Maybe we really will keep you. Broadcast this to all of Hell—Alastor’s precious little girl, getting railed by his worst enemies.”
Vox’s screen suddenly flashed blinding white-cyan, his entire frame seizing up as the pleasure hit its peak. “F-fuck—!”
His voice shattered into distorted static and warped moans. Claws tightened painfully in her pink hair as his hips jerked forward, burying himself deep in her throat. Electricity exploded outward in wild arcs, crackling across the room and dancing over her silver fur and antlers.
He stayed buried for several long seconds, panting, screen slowly dimming as he tried to regain control.
Valentino watched with dark, hungry eyes, still thrusting deep and steady. “Fuck yes… look at you making Voxxy come undone, baby. But you?” His grin turned cruel. “You don’t get to come yet.”
Before she could even whine in protest, Valentino’s grip turned bruising. He flipped their positions with terrifying ease—pulling her off Vox’s cock and slamming her down onto her back. In the same motion he shoved her legs open and thrust back into her, bottoming out so hard her back arched off the cushions.
She cried out, pussy clenching hard around him.
“No coming, babygirl,” he growled, voice dripping with dark amusement as he started fucking her with punishing force. Each thrust jolted her body, the couch creaking beneath them. His four arms pinned her down: two holding her wrists above her head, one pressing hard on her stomach to feel the bulge of his cock inside her, the last gripping her throat just tight enough to make her gasp for air.
For several long minutes the toxin held. Elizabeth’s mind floated in hazy, overwhelming pleasure, tears of overstimulation slipping down her cheeks as she clenched around him.
But the smoke wasn’t endless.
Valentino got lost in the rhythm, hips snapping harder, chasing his own release. The steady stream of pink toxin thinned. One breath. Two. Clarity began to bleed back in cruel, jagged edges.
The crushing weight on top of her. The hands gripping her like property. The mocking words about the father she never knew.
Tony’s face flashed behind her eyes—the same heavy press, the same laughter while she cried and begged.
Her eyes snapped open, wide and terrified.
“Stop—” she tried to say, the word garbled and desperate. Tears spilled freely now. “Please—stop—”
Valentino didn’t slow. If anything, he laughed, slamming in deeper. “Aww, listen to that. Begging already? What’s wrong, baby? You were taking it so well.”
He leaned closer, voice dropping into that same cruel, sing-song tone from her deepest nightmares.
“Come on, little victim. Cry for us. It makes you tighter.”
For a moment, it seemed like nothing changed.
Then she started to laugh—loud, manic, unhinged.
Valentino stuttered mid-thrust, confusion flashing across his face for half a second before he realized he’d fucked up.
Shadows exploded from the girl beneath him like living blades of pure night.
One massive tendril slammed both Overlords backward into the wall with bone-jarring force. Another surged into the console like a dagger, finding the tether that connected Vox to the entire grid and shredding it apart.
The tower, the district, and the entire city plunged into sudden, suffocating darkness.
Vox screamed a string of glitching curses, fighting against the dark.
Elizabeth’s antlers twisted and branched grotesquely, growing sharper, more monstrous. Her crimson eyes were the only light left for miles. When she spoke, it was with the layered voices of a hundred damned souls.
“My name is Elizabeth LeBlanc. You will not touch me again.”
She melted into the shadows and was gone, leaving both Overlords sprawled and cursing on the floor.
Elizabeth stumbled out of the shadows onto a rain-slicked rooftop, chest heaving, silver fur matted with sweat and worse. The city was eerily silent—every neon sign dead, every billboard dark, every streetlight extinguished. The blackout she’d caused stretched for blocks in every direction.
But she knew it wouldn’t last.
Her legs shook as she teleported again, landing on another rooftop two streets over. Then another. Each jump sent fresh pain lancing through her core and between her legs. Every shift of her hips reminded her of Valentino’s bruising grip, Vox’s static buzzing against her tongue, the mocking laughter still ringing in her ears.
Little victim.
She shoved the memory down with a snarl and kept moving.
Cameras everywhere. Dead for now, but the moment the backup generators kicked in or Vox clawed his way back into the grid, every lens in Pentagram City would be hunting the pink-haired deer who’d just embarrassed two Overlords.
There was nowhere safe.
Almost nowhere.
Her gaze snapped toward the far end of the city. A single red radio tower still glowed faintly against the blacked-out skyline—its old-fashioned antenna blinking like a stubborn heartbeat. The Hazbin Hotel.
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted violently.
No. Not him. Anyone but him.
She didn’t want to see Alastor. Didn’t want those knowing red eyes looking at her, dissecting her, realizing he’d sired such a pathetic, broken thing. He’d probably laugh. Or worse—he’d look at her with polite disappointment and then dismiss her completely.
But the ache between her thighs throbbed with every heartbeat, and the phantom taste of Vox’s electricity still coated her tongue. She could already feel the city’s power humming back to life in the distance.
She had seconds. Maybe a minute.
Clenching her fists until her claws drew blood, Elizabeth gathered the last dregs of her shadow magic. The air around her thickened with darkness. Her antlers crackled.
A half-sob, half-snarl tore out of her, and she teleported.
The world folded in on itself in a violent lurch. She reappeared directly in front of the Hazbin Hotel’s grand double doors, knees buckling the instant she touched the ground. The red radio tower loomed overhead like a judgmental sentinel.
She took one stumbling step forward, hand outstretched toward the door handle.
Then the world tilted.
Elizabeth collapsed hard against the steps, pink hair fanning across the stone like spilled blood. Her body gave out completely—sore, trembling, coated in bruises shaped like claws and fingerprints.
Darkness swallowed her before she could even knock.