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Fizz had lost track of all the surgeries he'd undergone, the physical therapy was nothing to sneeze at either. All this because Blitzo wanted to spice up their act. He hadn't even consulted Fizz beforehand and then he had the audacity to leave him there to die.
It had been months since that fateful disaster and he still had no idea who was paying for all of this. He'd been told someone was and even though he didn't trust it one bit, any attempt at refusal was simply ignored. Given where he was and how well made his robotics were, it had to be someone rich and powerful, which only fueled his paranoia.
What the fuck did this person want with him? With an imp who had been as good as dead? Who had no limbs or horns left?
Today was the day he got to find it.
He had his few belongings in a duffle bag the rehab place had given him. Some clothes, a water bottle, his hell phone, and medications. Most of his stuff had been burned in the fire, so he didn't have much left. The hell phone wasn't even his, the person paying for his medical bills had gotten it for him. It was not cheap.
He stepped out of the rehab center, stopping dead when he was met with a limo that he was certain was his ride. He'd been told they were waiting for him outside. A pit filled his stomach, he was terrified at the prospect of what they wanted from him.
"FizzaRolli?" the imp standing by the back door asked, pocketing his phone. Fizz nodded and walked over. The man opened the door.
Fizz hesitated. "Who's is this?" No answer. Fuck. He had no doubt running was a bad idea, there's no way someone would pay for all this just to let him get away now. "Right." He tossed his bag in before taking a seat. The door shut and locked behind him.
Fizz felt very out of place in something as expensive as this. He dared not touch anything he didn't have to. Fuck this couldn't be good.
He jumped when they started to move. "Fuck fuck fuck." He pulled his legs up and wrapped his stretchy arms around himself a few times. Being in the lust ring on top of all this didn't bode well. This could only end poorly.
When he was finally let out of the limo he found himself at the back of a club that was bustling with activity, judging by the sounds inside.
"Follow me." The driver locked the limo before leading Fizz in through the back door. There were several people back there, most of them in various states of dress. Fizz simply followed the imp up some stairs and into a room down the hall.
It was a dressing room, he assumed, though it was a decently extravagant one. It had a bed for fucks sake. He was ushered inside by the imp after standing dumbfounded in the doorway too long.
"You've got half an hour."
"Half an-for what?"
"To get ready, you have complete freedom of expression as far as appearance is concerned. Your instructions are on the vanity."
"Instructions for what?"
"You're tonight's announcer."
"I'm what!?" He'd just gotten out of rehab and he was already on a job? He didn't even know where he was!
"Half an hour, be ready." He shut the door, leaving Fizz by himself. Fizz collapsed on the bed, taking it all in for a moment.
So, he was an announcer for a club in the lust ring. No idea what club it was or who he was working for, though it had to be the person who paid for everything. Probably how he was going to pay them back. Fuck.
Okay okay, instructions. Fizz went over to the vanity, grabbing the booklet that was sitting there. He sat down and gave it a skim. Okay, so the place was called Ozzie's, which he knew little about but given that he'd heard about it at all while living in another ring and generally not giving a shit about anything in the other rings meant it was popular as fuck.
His job wasn't too complicated. Announce the acts they had for the night and keep the audience entertained in-between, shouldn't be that hard. He'd have to change his vibe though, since this was a lust ring club and not the circus.
He went to look at his closet, there were a lot of different outfits. Should he pick something to fit in or stick out like a sore thumb? A sore thumb could work, making him stand out, but it could backfire. However, he had a feeling confidence was everything in lust, and he really only felt confident in one thing.
He closed the closet and went over to his bag, opening it and pulling out the jester costume he still had. He'd fixed it up pretty good, though it was still worse for wear. He laid it out over the bed before going over to the vanity.
He did his usual makeup, which didn't take long, before putting on his costume. He definitely stuck out like a sore thumb. A part of him felt ridiculous but he'd made up his mind. He still had some time left and he decided to spend it practicing using the stretchiness of his limbs. He had a feeling it'd be a hit.
He jumped when someone pounded on the door. "Ten minutes!" Fizz went over the list of acts one last time, memorizing every name before he headed out.
"That?" The driver raised a brow at him. When Fizz didn't respond he just shrugged and pointed. "Down this hall, the door on your left marked 'balcony one', that's your entrance."
A balcony? Must be expecting him to use his limbs and show off. Fizz nodded and headed that way, finding the door easily and walking through. The smell of alcohol, drugs, and sex hit him hard.
Fuck that was strong.
He shook it off and looked around the club. Plenty of things to hang off of and around, he could definitely make this work. So long as he didn't fall flat on his face at least. He spotted a figure chilling in the balcony across from him. He had a feeling that was who he had to impress in order to keep living tonight.
He checked the time. Seems he had just three minutes left until showtime. He took a deep breath and stretched out his limbs and torso. His torso wasn't as stretchy as his limbs but still.
The clock struck ten and that was his cue. "Deep breath, channel the confident, horny asshole persona. I am a horny asshole." He launched himself off the balcony, hearing someone shriek in surprise. He almost fell but grabbed into one of the hanging poles with his hand and swung himself around to the stage, landing easily on his feet as if it'd been practiced.
Everyone was gawking at him but he pretended not to notice as he grabbed the nearest mic, tapping it for a sound check. He heard the telltale ring and strutted forward. "Welcome, welcome to Ozzie's! The lust ring's number one joint for all kinds of twisted debauchery. How we feeling tonight?"
Silence.
Fizz made a face. "Sheesh, didn't realize I'd be working a morgue tonight." That got him a few chuckles. "C'mon people, never seen a jester before?" He tossed the mic into his other hand, flicking one of his bells to make it jingle. "Let's not lie to each other, I can see some of you are weirdly into it. We've all been traumatized by a clown as a kid and we all know trauma is just a one way ticket to kink central."
Laughter. Loud, table slapping laughter. He grinned. That was his in. He worked the rest of the evening flawlessly after that. The crowd loved him, that much was clear. He'd wormed his way into their hearts easily with his quips, bendy limbs, and sharp teeth. Especially that last one, apparently. A few people asked to be bitten by him.
He'd said no, obviously.
As he changed out of his suit and sat in his boxers removing his makeup he thought the night over. Clearly, this was going to be his job for a while, so that persona was going to be his life. He was going to have to live and breathe this shit.
He still had no idea where he was staying after this. Here, maybe? There was a bed after all, but it was a sex club so maybe that was just in case things got, spicy.
He leaned in close to the mirror as he carefully removed the makeup around his eyes. The door opened and he scowled.
"I see we've never heard of knocking, in the lust ring. If you're one of the guys that asked to be bit, I will throw you out my window." He put some more makeup remover on his cotton ball and worked on the other eye. "You're still here. Can I fucking help you?"
The door closed and every muscle in his body tensed as he froze. Not a good sign. He whipped around, fully prepared to fight his way out, only to be met with a thigh.
Oh. Oh no.
He slowly looked up until he finally found the face. A very easily recognizable face, even if he'd never been the lust before. He was suddenly thankful he'd peed after the show because otherwise he'd be relieving himself right now.
"Y-Your majesty." He jumped when the King let out a bellowing laugh that shook the room. He sat on the providing bed, grinning at Fizz in a way that was almost predatory.
"My name is Asmodeus, though those that work here call me Ozzie." Oh, oh this was his club. Oh fuck.
Wait.
"You," Fizz muttered. "You paid for everything."
"Guilty as charged, dollface." Asmodeus rested his chin in his palm. "I saw your little act a few times, loved the energy. After your disaster, I just had to fix you up and keep you."
"K-Keep me?" Like a fucking pet? Shit.
"That's right. You're gonna be working here for a looong time, dollface. Better get comfy." Asmodeus stood up. "James is waiting for you in the lounge, he'll take you to your new home when you're finished." He reached out with a giant hand to run a finger along Fizz's chin, making him shudder. "G'night, sweetheart, see you tomorrow."
Fizz watched him leave, then silently went back to removing makeup. He was much shakier now, not sure how to process all of that.
Before he knew it he was standing in a very uppity apartment that apparently belonged to him. He wasn't even a block away from the club, not that he was surprised.
He tossed his bag into the couch and headed straight for the bedroom. He removed all his clothes except his boxers and collapsed on the bed, pulling the covers around him. They were really soft.
He spun himself around and screamed into his pillow. He was really stuck here wasn't he? Fuck, fuck . He cried until he didn't have the energy anymore, until his eyes and throat were sore.
He was so damn tired. He turned back over and stared out the window at the neon lights until he passed out from exhaustion.