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Since the birth of the eternal afterlife, a fiery pentagram stretched for miles across the world’s blood-stained sky, burning bright and unmoving like Hell's North Star. Sinners throughout the ages congregated under her in a vestry of sex and debauchery, like moths called to mating grounds by moonlight. This congregation of sinners worshiped at a church of anarchy for countless centuries until some semblance of society gained a foothold; weaker acolytes devoted themselves to more scrupulous demon overlords, who organized the unholy communion grounds between themselves and gave her a proper name in a common language. Into the rest of forever, the provenance of Sin was baptized by her people as Pentagram City.
Here, the infamous Hat Cat Casino made her grim and fabulous reputation. She stood proudly in the heart of Pentagram’s Casino District, a glittering testament to the power and wealth of the district’s Patron Overlord. Every better, staker, high-roller and gambler in Hell would recognize her sweeping Art Deco arches holding windows which towered from the floor to the ceiling– and, of course, they knew her gigantic golden faux top-hat, which comprised the casino’s shimmering roof fixture. And yet, despite her grand celebrity, her betting halls on that particular morning were almost deserted, and the lunch buffet tables remained untouched except by a few loyal regulars. Unperturbed by the stillness, the PA system doled out smooth orchestral jazz into the empty hallways as though nothing were amiss.
The music selection, although always jazz of some kind or another, was coordinated up high in the casino’s radio tower– an unsightly metal thorn which jutted out of the Hat Cat’s side. The resident radio jockey, Alastor, presently organized his vinyl records into the playlist order for that afternoon. When happy with his arrangement, he turned to his paperwork and struck a red line across his To-Do list. The playlist task joined the company of another crossed-off item, that morning’s announcement– an odd, one-off, sponsored advertisement. Alastor picked up a nearby saucer to enjoy a cup of warm, unidentifiable liquid which he heated by his fingertips- the simple gesture being full extent of his magic granted by the un-knowable powers which governed Hell. He relaxed back into his chair, sinking into his seat, and awkwardly swung his legs over the chair’s right-hand manchette. The jazz played on, uninterruptedly. Only several minutes into his lunch break, however, a hollow, distant vibration rattled his teacup.
Dun
Dun
Dun
Thrum
Alastor’s excitement hitched in his throat as the sound of monstrous, angry footsteps quaked through the twisted metal of his tower.
Dun
Dun
Thrum
Dang
Closer and louder, the thundering clangs swelled. Alastor breathed deeply to calm his obvious mirth as the final BANG announced the Great Patron’s arrival; his arrival party being the stench of alcohol wafting through the room.
“Where the FUCK are all my customers!?” The six-foot tall feathered sphynx shouted into Alastor’s studio– or tired to, anyway: the Great Patron’s voice was hoarse and gravelly from the near constant cigar smoking. Alastor loved it.
Alastor, in question, had already jumped from his radio console and smoothed down his raggedy red suit for presentability.
“I’m honored you think I had anything to do with your business today,” he said, “But might I remind you that this radio schtick is a legally separate enterprise, and has no concern for yours.”
“You don't have to remind me you're a self centered bitch,” the overlord rolled his golden cat’s eyes, but he didn’t sound any more especially upset with Alastor than usual. “If you want me to keep paying your rent to myself," he said, "tell me what the fuck you did this time.”
Alastor bit his lip to keep from smiling too maniacally, “I know we have a special working relationship, dearest Overlord of Casinos-and-Any-Adjoining-Eateries-and-Hotels—”
“You can just call me Husk,” Husk interjected,
“--but I,” Alastor ignored him and turned up the dramatics, “Am just a meek and lowly sinner! I don’t have the luxury to turn down other client’s well-paying ad read. You don’t want to know how expensive my coiffeuse is!”
Husk sighed deeply, “I do know— you bill your stupid dip-die treatments to me, anyway.”
“But do you like it?” Alator shook his locks for emphasis.
“It’s always nice,” Husk said, before choking and immediately changing the subject. Alastor had a generous contract with Husk, but not as Husk’s employee— and only one demon in town could outbid Husk for Alastor’s advertising slots. “Tell me about this ad-read, then. Is Valentino doing that ‘Five Dollar Foot Long’ special again?” he asked.
“Well, not exactly!” Alastor chuckled, “This morning, Val asked me to tell everyone that his brand new Belladildo Casino is doing two-for-one-spins during the Grand Opening… Today!”
Alastor punctuated the announcement with jazz-hands, which he continued to flutter silently as Husk processed the news. When Husk was sure Alastor was not just fucking with him, his lips turned up into a snarl, “A casino? Opening without my permission?”
At Husk’s low snarling, Alastor’s tone turned suggestive, “Well, it has been a good decade or three since you reminded everyone of your... zoning rights…”
Alastor knew the exact number of days elapsed since Husk’s last turf war, but he didn’t want to seem too desperate for bloodshed by saying so. His statement was a hidden suggestion, a bit of manipulation on his part, but Husk was no idiot: and he silently agreed that Alastor had a point. Husk was the Patron Sinner of Greed, and Pentagram City was due to be reminded of it.
Husk let his snarl fall and calmly took a cigar out of his tailored suit trousers, which he wore without a shirt. He liked the way Alastor's eyes darted up and down from his eyes to his chest fluff rhythmically. “May I use your balcony?” he asked, seemingly just wanting to light his smoke. Alastor visibly deflated.
“Of course,” the DJ gestured to the other side of the tower and dejectedly fell back down in his chair with a thud before moodily spinning around. Husk nodded to the back of his dramatic radio Dj’s head and walked calmly towards the balcony doors. As he did so, his plumage unfurled and filled the tower, casting a shadow over Alastor which he’d surely notice. If a six-foot winged cat stepped onto Alastor’s balcony railing, a sixty foot winged sphinx stepped off of it– as long and as solid as a laden semi truck, with a tail which whipped at the air and clapped thunder. Husk’s first thrash of red and gold wings stirred such a hurricane that Alastor’s notes and half of his radio equipment blew out the tower after the beast.
Alastor caught himself on the frame of the balcony doors to look upon the streaks of red, black, and gold dancing away from his vision. Husk’s true demonic form was a sight to behold, with a wingspan of a modern jet, but Alastor could not spare another moment for admiration. What concerned Al presently was getting down to the Belladildo before it was Belladilgone– Besides, he’d bill Husk for the damaged equipment later. He pulled from the wreckage of his room a small portable transmitter fitted into the frame of a briefcase-- prepared for just this occasion-- and practically jumped from his tower’s staircase into the Hat Cat- Dun, Thrum- with his favorite personal microphone in tow.
As Alastor raced down to the ground floor, the few customers who remained in the Hat Cat that morning pressed themselves to the windows to watch Husk’s demon form in flight. Thanks to the airshow, no one had cause to watch the resident radio DJ stumble down the lobby stairs at speed, like a newborn deer outrunning a forest fire. Alastor cursed the magic duct-tape holding Hell together that he wasn’t granted some ridiculously overpowered demonic power, "like.. portals!" he thought, so he could be with Husk in an instant. By some miracle, Alastor made it to the taxi rank outside with just enough breath to beg the driver to, "follow that giant, gorgeous cat!"
In the speeding taxi, Alastor had a chance to catch his breath. Husk was already flying high over the Belladildo, circling his prey as a warning to innocent bystanders... Try as Alastor might to overcome the cat’s usual disposition, Husk was still ever the gentleman. For Alastor, lazily sharing an expensive cigar with a gentleman like Husk was truly one of his most favorite things, but Husk always being so soft and gentle got a little boring for the poor demon DJ. Alastor supposed he should be thankful, as he got away with too much under the protection of his business partner, but Alastor craved a little blood shed every once in a while. When the first rumors of Valentino's Casino started circling, Alastor saw the perfect opportunity to literally ruffle Husk’s feathers, and had done everything in his limited power to keep the secret under wraps until the perfect, explosive moment… and that moment was fast approaching.
Alastor opened his suitcase and readily checked the equipment for damage as they drove into the shadow of the Belladildo. His tinny radio voice filtered out from the Taxi’s own radio as he spoke:
“Good afternoon Pentagram City. This is Alastor the Radio Demon coming to you live with a special emergency broadcast from the site of a soon-to-be natural disaster. As we speak, the Great Patron Sinner or Greed is circling above the newly opened Belladildo Casino in the southern Styx district!”
Half a block from the front gates, the taxi swerved over to the side of the road and stopped. Alastor rolled his eyes, “I said ‘soon-to-be!” he said. The taxi did not budge. “Fine, I’ll walk!” Alastor relented. He hurried into the War Zone briskly but smoothly to not upset his voice as he continued broadcasting: holding an antenna high above his head in one hand and the microphone in the other. The transmitter in his briefcase was strung around one shoulder with a strap.
“For many listeners, this may be your first meeting with the Patron Sinner of Greed. He’s a private fellow of few friends and even less acquaintances, but he's loved dearly by his clientele. You might know him as one of Pentagram’s Overlords, owner of the Hat Cat Casino. As my personal friend, I shall refer to him as Husker. For those of you not blessed with a front row seat as I am, Husker’s demonic form presents itself as a gigantic gold-and-copper lion with a broad chest and dreamy shoulders– and wings, of course! Wings with gold-tipped, red and black feathers that are shimmering, as we speak, in the light of the pentagram above. His face is otherwise plain, with large cat’s eyes and big grumpy eyebrows. My Husker’s tail could whip a bull in half, and his fuzzy muzzle could crush the skulls of everyone in a medium sized elevator-- all in one go! If that’s not enough, his solid gold claws slice through walls like paper, and his heart-patterned ears are also very cute, I thought I should mention them—”
Alastor paused to gulp a breath as he clambered quickly up the Balladildo’s front steps. Halfway up, a thundering clash signaled Husker had finally landed upon the rooftop, and the first wave of screaming customers streamed out of the front gates. Alastor fought his way through the stampede. Soon, he reached the front door, and saw that the lobby of the Belladildo stretched upwards to the full height of the building. The ceiling had already burst open, littering the lobby with glass and support beams which had crushed numerous patrons on the ground floor. The far side of the lobby supported three balconies which fed back into the main rooms of the casino, but the third floor balcony was torn asunder. Guests who saw the staircases packed tight with bodies and debris jumped from the balconies and built up piles of bodies on the floor, which blocked the escape of demons in the first floor hall. Alastor laughed at the spectacular display. Husk was nowhere to be seen, but it was clear he had entered the main casino halls from the screams resounding deep within the upstairs halls.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the show has begun!" Alastor declared, "Earlier you heard the screams of the souls escaping out the front doors, but there’s already plenty of victims within! The interior of this casino has had quite a dramatic remodel; what were once roof fixtures are now coffins for unlucky sinners who lost their gamble today. All is otherwise quiet in the lobby- save for the running, crying, and screaming- as it seems Husker is already ransacking the main gambling halls! I’ll update you on the casualties momentarily!”
Alastor made a dash for the lower floor’s staircase, and had almost crossed over the rubble in the lobby when the screams fell away into a terrified silence and a shadow fell over Alastor. He looked up. Husk’s demonicly cute cat-face peered over the second floor balcony at him.
“Oh. Hello,” Alastor addressed one large eye looming over his entire vision.
Two paws came down either side of Alastor before Husk tossed his back off the balcony, twisting it rightly as it came down. His rear shocked the building and blocked Alastor- and victims- from the front exit.
“It’s too dangerous for you to be here,” Husk held an even tone but his voice boomed down all the corridors and rattled chandeliers from his sheer size.
“I couldn’t miss your show!” Alastor shouted back up to him petulantly.
“This is not a show,” Husk countered, “I’m only here to give Valentino a little lesson, not to hurt anyone.” A loose slab of concrete fell from the ceiling and crushed a demon fleeing from the halls. Husk gestured to the new abstract painting of blood on the nearby wall, “Demons can’t really be killed except killed by an angelic weapon, but I’m not approving your vacation leave while you reform from a spec of dust.”
Husk heard Alastor’s little “tsk,” and saw his little pouted, so relented a little. He used two delicate claws to lift Alastor off the floor by pinching the back of his suit and stretched up his back legs to place Alastor high on what was left of the third floor balcony.
“Don’t pout,” Husk said, his large face close to watch Alastor’s expression, “If you want to stay, you can’t move an inch from here. Okay?”
Alastor reached over the balcony railing to pet Husk’s nose, which was much bigger than his hand. “Deal,” he said, still half pouting.
Husk moved away gently and shot Alastor one last “Behave,” before taking a deep breath and breathing fire down the first floor hall which Alastor was previously heading towards. Alastor gripped the bars of the railing for his own safety as the building shook again with several explosions. Another wave of casino guests made a dash past Husk for the exit, scared of burning to double death. Husk battered them into the floor tiles with giant fluffy kitty paws.
“It’s Whack-A-Mole in the Belladino–!” Alastor continued his broadcast gleefully as he watched Husker slay, maim, and dice up demons for his entertainment. Alastor sighed happily as the piles of bodies and trapped patrons began roasting in the growing destruction of the casino. Husk slowly built a nest of tables and machines so Valentino could not easily establish himself. Husk and Alastor both laughed to see some demons collecting chips from the smashed and broken slots Husk had scooped out of the halls. When the halls fell quiet of the screams and Husk’s nest was to his satisfaction, he hollowed out the second floor entirely and pulled a gleaming vault the size of one paw out of the wreckage.
“Are you ready to go,” Husk asked, offering his free paw to Alastor.
Alastor looked about and saw his small section of balcony was the only place untouched by ruin, and there was no way for him to get down without help. With some patience and much bravery, Alastor swung a leg over the railing and half-jumped, half-fell onto Husk’s big heart shaped paw pad. Alastor gripped two tufts of fur on Husk’s palm as reigns. The sphinx smoothly jumped two hundred feet into the air, through what was left of the Belladildo's ceiling, and then caught his fall with a flap of his monstrous wings. Alastor had never flown before, and he tightened his abs to keep his stomach down from the vertigo. When Alastor had recovered from the temporary sickness, which the cool air streaming past his face did help with, he crawled across Husk’s palm to see Pentagram City from high above. She was beautiful, with unique architecture and warzones glowing prettily with fire. Alastor’s heart soared to see the Hat Cat gleaming like a golden beacon of dignity in an otherwise ruinous city.
Husk saw Alastor hugging one of his fingers tightly to see the view, and, judging Al enamored by it, treated Alastor to a small detour. He flew Alastor south over the River Styx and north to the palaces of Loo Loo World before finally alighting in the evening on the Hat Cat. Husk used one foot to tip open the food fixture’s top hat and crushed the vault in his right paw over the lobby like a gilded egg. Alastor could hear the jubilee as Husk’s loyal patrons rejoiced and danced in the green, paper rain.
Husk presently tossed the empty vault like a soda can and righted the Hat Cat's hat, which Alastor bemused was perhaps the top hat of Husk’s truest demon form, a beast ten times larger than the form he chose today for a small chore.
“Hold on,” Husk said, and Alastor did so. The wind upon another powerful sweep of Husk’s wings caused Alastor to closed his eyes tightly against the battering. When the wind quieted, he opened them to find he was once again standing on the Radio Tower's balcony with Husk’s paw still grasp tightly in his hand. After a moment collecting his bearings, Alastor remembered to breathe.
“You can let go now, ya’know”, Husk said, making no effort to pull his paw away. “I can,” Alastor agreed, also making no effort to let go. Alastor could let go, he reasoned, but he didn’t particularly want to.
“Suit yourself, I don’t care,” Husk said before starting to drag Alastor with him through the radio tower. Alastor went along with him happily, and they were soon striding together up the corridors of the Hat Cat.
“I could use a cigar after all that,” Husk sighed.
Alastor hummed, “I could also use a cigar too,” he agreed.
“Well, no point wasting two perfectly good cigars,” Husk replied, “you can share mine.”
Alastor stifled a laugh, and they presently returned hand in hand to Husk’s penthouse in the brim of Husk’s demonic top-hat. Alastor climbed onto the sofa (and Husk) as Husk lit a cigar with a small plume of fire breath. After cutting the unlit side with his teeth, he turned it towards Alastor, offering the first hit.
“You could have just told me about the new casino, ya’know,” Husk remarked as Alastor sucked gently on the cigar.
“I know…” Alastor mumbled and took a deep hit finally. “... I wanted to ruffle your feathers a bit,” he said with the smoke that left his lungs.
“I wish your insolence was a little lighter on my pocketbook,” Husk muttered before taking his own hit of the cigar.
Alastor chuckled darkly and stole Husk’s exhaled smoke with a kiss.
[END]