Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: A Wayward Deal

When it comes to the transgressions of time, it was difficult to say who or what caused it. Let alone how the passage of times deals with the multitude of different cultural impacts, the many citizens in that time period and so on. Everything was always changing. Many who wished they could turn back the hands of time.

But there are few who manage to stand against it. Mastering the ability to not fall or crumble under time’s pressure. To be flexible enough to embrace the many changes that follow with it. Changes… that many hoped to exploit.

And that was something that the underground crime was well known for.

With change comes information.

Knowledge.

A very valuable asset.

And to those in the organized crime business, knowledge was a very powerful tool.

It was something that Henroin knew all too well. The Ragno Mob-boss had been down in Hell for a long time. He’s seen it all. Made many connections. But there were some limits that not even he could obtain.

His reputation for one.

He was known for being a cruel, angry, and mean sonofabitch. If you didn’t want to end up feeling his wrath, it would be best to stay clear. So those resources often stayed out of reach from him.

But there was one person that did. 

Overlord Zestial.

The lanky, spider demon had been in Hell for several hundreds of years. Considering how he spoke, his best guess is that the Overlord died in the 1500s. A very long time to be alive down in Hell. Especially when it came to the Exterminations.

He had been trying to get an attendance with Zestial for a very long time. But something always came up.

But he had a trick up his sleeve. This time, it wouldn’t be him that would show up. He was sending his least intimidating family member, but one that still knew how to hold his ground.

His own son, Arackniss.

Standing at 4’5, thin as a twig. his child was far from being the most bulky or frightening at first appearance. His resting bitchface could be something less desired, but without much his boy had to put up with, he couldn’t blame him.

He heard a familiar knock.

“ Entra.”

The door opened to reveal said spider.

Once the door was shut, Arackniss put his arms behind his back, looking up at him.

“You called for me, sir?”

“Nick, I got a special job for you. I’ve finally got a meeting with Overlord Zestial.”

The smaller demon nodded.

“So I assume you will be leaving for it soon?”

“Not quite.”

That caused him to raise a brow at him.

“Zestial is a very private individual. He’s also very powerful and a wrong word or phrase could cause him to cancel the deal I planned to propose.”

“Okay… and what does that have to do for me?”

“You’re going to the meeting.”

This caught the younger mobster off guard. Him???

“I… are you sure?”

“I've got other obligations to meet with. Which is why I’m sending you.” He tossed a file over at him. “Zestial is the best informant in Pentagram City.”

“I thought he was the Overlord of the brewery industry?”

“He is. Give a man enough alcohol, his loose lips will incriminate himself. Which is why this meeting is top priority for you. I want you to get into Zestial’s good graces so he’ll agree to be partners with us.

Arackniss wasn’t quite sure. Zestial was the most powerful Overlord in all of Hell. Not to mention, he was good friends with Overlord Carmilla. If they end up pissing the elder demon in anyway… Carmilla could easily kill the entire syndicate at a drop of a hat.

This was a very serious job…

He tucked the folder under his arm.

“What time?”

“Tomorrow, noon on the dot.”

“I’ll reschedule all my other meetings and reports afterwards. I’ll be sure to let him know that you send your regards.”

Henroin nodded.

“Then that’ll be all.”

Arackniss gave a small nod in acknowledgement, then headed back out. He glanced down at the file once more. Looks like he had a lot of work to do to prepare…

When it comes to surviving in Hell, many, while through many misconceptions, assumed he had some strange sixth sense or was in arms with a more powerful demon. Though, if he had to be honest, it was through luck and his own personal wit. While he enjoyed seeing others respect and fear him, it often did quite leave him feeling a little bit lonesome.

Thankfully he had his dear friend, Carmilla and her daughters, as well as his many, many spiders. But still, while he can be on polite terms with some of the other Overlords, he still wished he had more people he could communicate with.

“Penny for your thoughts, my dear friend?”

Zestial looked over to see said friend come up to his side.

“Tis nothing of great importance. I have a meeting with Henroin by noon high. I have little faith thou will be delightful company.”

She hummed in agreement.

“Noon will be approaching in a few minutes. I heard he has quite a temper on him. I don’t fault you for being cautious on his arrival. His lack of self-control can be quite detrimental should he perceive things not be going his way.”

“Aye, that is what I perceive as well.”

“I have qualms with you conducting the interview here. But I do hope that if he does any damage to my home, you will be paying for it.”

“Do not fret, thyself. I will ensure no such ill will shall be displayed.”

She gave a small nod.

“I trust you, Zestial. But it’s him that I am worried about.”

“I thank ye again for your hospitality.”

“It’s no trouble my friend.”

A knock on the door was heard. Carmilla checked the time. Fifteen minutes before noon. He was early. At least he was punctual.

“You may enter.”

The creaking of the door echoed through the foyer. Though from what the two could see it wasn’t their dreaded guest that they were expecting.

Instead… it was someone much, much, much smaller.

“Are you lost, little one?”

The small sinner looked up towards them. He glared up at them.

“I’m Arackniss Ragno. Don Henroin sent me on his behalf for the meeting with Overlord Zestial. The Don sends his regards. He sends his apology for not being able to meet. His mother had gotten ill and she is needing his assistance.”

The weapons dealer's eyes narrowed at him.

“Then why Henroin send one of his lackey’s to do his dirty work for him?”

This caused the fur on Arackniss’ fur to bristle. Lackey??? He was no lackey! He was the heir to the Ragno drug empire! He was tempted to give her a verbal lashing. Though that wouldn’t be a very smart idea. His father trusted him with this deal.

And he wasn’t going to disappoint him.

“I’m not a lackey. I’m his son. He sent me as his replacement. He wanted to be here, but unfortunately, my nonna can be… very hard-headed.”

Zestial merged into the shadows, quickly making his way to stand in front of the Ragno heir. The small arachnid didn’t jump. Strange. This one was not intimidated by him. How delightful. Someone so small yet wasn’t that fearful of him.

Truly a rare specimen. 

“Thy’s father, ye say?”

Arackniss nodded.

“I am sorry thy grandmother is unwell. I shall send my regards at a later date.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it, even if it’s not needed. The Don insisted that you carry on the meeting with me instead. I know it’s not ideal, but I have cleared my schedule for this as a top priority.”

The taller demon smiled at him.

“Tis no trouble at all. I am curious on what thou has in mind for the meeting. Would thee be delighted in some tea as we converse?”

“Uh… sure.”

The elder demon straightened.

“Marvelous! Let us commence! Would thou be interested in some tea?”

“I’m not much of a tea drinker… but I’ll have some.”  Once they were all set up, Zestial and Carmilla couldn’t help but take note of how unusual their guest was. The Ragno heir was cordial, very guarded, stiff, no nonsense, and cold. 

It caught the older demon’s intrigued. 

He looked so much like his father, but acted nothing like the man. The small sinner placed his suitcase on the table. 

“I thank you for allowing the meeting to happen. If I may get straight to the point, I am aware that you are Hell's best informant. We are needing a new one as our last one… is no longer available due to some unforeseen circumstances.” 

The two Overlord's shared a look. They didn't know if that was an implied threat that they offed their last informant or not. If it wasn't a treat… then they best not bring it up.

“And dost thou require of thee to beseech my services?” 

The mobster said nothing, just popped open the suitcase to reveal it was full of cash. 

“Right now, we got word that someone plans to sell our drug research secrets. We just can't figure out who. I'm offering 900k for every or anything you can find.”

Carmilla frowned. 

“900k in total? That's-” 

“900k per meeting .” 

Her eyes widened. 

“That's a lot for just a meeting. How would you be able to afford-” 

“The Ragno Syndicate have been in Hell as long, if not, longer, just as Overlord Zestial has. Our drug business brings an inflow of 75.8 billion figures a year and climbing. We're not strapped for cash if that's what yer implyin’.” 

The larger arachnid hummed as he sipped his tea. While he didn’t really want to do business with Henroin… he couldn’t deny that his heir had caught his interest. He was nothing like his father. While Henroin was brutish, rash, and unpleasant, Arackniss was the complete opposite. He was quiet, calmer, professional.

Truly an enigma.

Though 900k was a lot for just a tiny piece of information…

“I have pondered over your offer, and thus would like to give ye a counter.”

Carmilla raised a brow at him. Counter offer? She had a feeling that Zestial had a trick up his sleeve. But she didn’t know what that trick was.

“450k for instead.”

Arackniss squinted at him with suspicion.

“That’s half of what I’m offering you. What’s your angle?”

The Overlord placed his hands together after setting his cup down.

“There is no angle. I just feel 900k is too much for thou. I too am in no need for that much. I am an Overlord.”

“I can just hear a ‘but’ being added to that.”

“I only request that ye be the one that handles our transactions.”

That… caught the smaller sinner off guard. But it wouldn’t be the first time that he was specifically asked to handle drop-offs. He didn’t know if it’s because demons knew he wouldn’t fuck them over, or if it was some weird powerplay due to his small size. But considering he got Zestial to agree….

“Alright. I can agree to that.”

He started to shut the suitcase…Only to see that a hell-spider had sat itself on top of it. Both Overlords waited to see what he was going to do. Zestial’s eyes watched as he waited for his guest to do something.

If he harmed the creature he would-

“Hey, no, that’s not a place for you.”

Both Overlords were caught off guard when the tiny mobster gently scooped the hell-creature into his hands, then gently sat it down on the table.

“You sit right there. Last thing you would want is for me to accidentally kill you.” 

Zestial watched in awe at how this strange little sinner was so gentle to one of his beloved spiders. Most people immediately reacted by killing them. But this one…

This one treated them with respect.

Satisfied now that the Hell-spider was out of the way, the sniper turned his attention back towards the taller demons. He closed the suitcase and shoved it towards them.

“Keep the full 900k. Consider the other half as an advancement payment for the next meeting. If you need to call, my business card is in the pocket. A presto.”

Without another word, the mobster left. Once he was gone, the female Overlord turned to her friend.

“Zestial, are you sure about this? Getting entangled with the Mafia is dangerous business.”

He patted her hand.

“Do not fret, my dear. Tis nothing I can’t handle.”

Her eyes moved towards the door.

“I do trust you, my friend. But it’s him that I worry about.”

He gently scooped the hell-spider onto his hand. The little creature walking across his fingers as he kept them spaced out so it could.

“The little sinner is not like his father. He has demonstrated that he has a kind nature under that cold demeanor.” The spider used a string of silk to travel from Zestial’s finger back down to the suitcase. He gave her a small smirk. “Afterall, anyone who cares about my spiders is a worthy investment.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: A New Endeavor

The meeting, from what his son said, went better than Henroin could expect. He was surprised that Zestial was only interested in 450k per meeting, instead of the 900k promised. The ancient overlord was normally one for such niceties unless he wanted something. What he could want was a mystery.

But he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Zestial agreed to be their informant, that’s all that mattered.

After the meeting, his son went on with his many other meetings and paperwork. How his son could stay holed up in his office for days on end he’ll never know. He didn’t know when the last time his kid even bothered to touch some grass.

Whatever.

He’ll worry about his son’s lack of a social life some other time.

Right now, he had a limited amount of time before his best scotch was all sold out. He didn’t trust any of his siblings to bring his booze to him. Knowing them, they’d drink the shit before he got a chance to.

Bastards.

Normally he would just drive there. But recently he felt the need to walk. It wasn’t that far. Only a couple of blocks outside of their usual community. Plus if anyone fucked with him, he got his personal tommy on him.

As the large scorpion made his way through the busy streets, he couldn’t help but feel that something…

Or someone was following him. 

Deep in the shadows.

Either it was a rival family following him or just some crazy drugged-up fucker. He’ll just have to keep an eye out.

Henroin continued to make his way down the street.

Making sure to go through alleyways, busy streets, and such to slow down whoever the fuck was following him.

Until a shadow swiftly moved in front of him.

“Fuck!!”

“Hark Henroin. How fair thee on this delightful day?”

Zestial. It was fucking Zestial.

The Ragno Don placed a hand on his heart.

“Fucking shit. Warn a guy will ya?”

The elder demon chuckled.

“Pardon me, my dear friend. But tis not often I get to grace in thou’s presence.”

“Yea, no shit.” Henroin calmed himself down. Fucking pyscho Overlord…. “So what can I do fer ya?”

“I wanted to give my regards for thou’s mother. Thy’s son stated thou was not well.”

Ah right. That old excuse.

He waved him off.

“It’s nothing. Crazy old bat. She gets in a tizzy about the most minor shit. Died in her eighties and still acts like she’s in her damn thirties. It’s nuts.”

The lankier demon hummed.

“Yes… being in Hell for so long can hath that effect on people.” He smiled at him. “But since she is doing well, than ye would like to disclose other matters.”

The scorpion raised a brow at him.

“And that would be…?”

“Thy’s son.”

“Be specific. I got two. Arackniss or the disgraced fairy-slut that’s my youngest?”

“Arackniss. I hath no idea Angel Dust was thou’s son.”

“Family’s biggest disappointment. So what’s this about Arackniss? Did he fucked up the meeting with you? Cuz my boy told me that everything went well on his side of the tale. Or was my brat lyin’?”

Zestial quickly shook his head.

“No, no. Calm thyself. Arackniss hath not done any wrong.”

“Then why bring him up?”

“Hath he told you of my requirements?”

“That you cut our offer in half and request him only for future meetings. Why?”

The mysterious spider demon hummed. He could tell that the scorpion demon was on guard. Most likely suspicious of why he would offer half then what they first offered him. Understandable. 

But as a father, Henroin is probably just making sure he won't get his son into a bad situation. He already lost one child to one Overlord. He probably worried he’d lose another. 

“Calm thyself. I just merely find your child of interest. He is…  a very peculiar creature.”

The Mob boss snorted.

“Peculiar huh? Not the words I describe him. But sure whatever ya say.”

The lankier demon gave him an amused look.

“I just wanted to give the disclosure of the next meeting place. Two weeks is quite the timeline til thou’s presence is required. Hath, thy son meet me at Moonglow Cavern by the witching hour. Good morrow Henroin.”

With that, the terrifying Overlord slunk into the shadows once more. Henroin did his best to suppress a shudder. If they didn’t need his intel in gathering information, he would never have allowed his son to meet with the fucker.

But there was no going back now. He just hope the chit-chat with the fucker didn’t cost him a good bottle of scotch.

Two weeks just flew by then the time came for Arackniss to meet with Zestial. Arackniss made sure to have the money, 450K, along with his Tommy gun just in case. From the first impression he got from Zestial, he didn’t seem as bad as he thought. 

But never assume.

The spider sinner prepared himself for the meeting. He despised any means of social interaction but this, this was for the mob. Now to head to Moonglow Cavern.

He’s heard of the place.

It was a creepy forest grove on the edge of town.

It was a place where many suspected that Overlord Zestial resided. The woods stretched for miles. It always looked like it was stuck in the autumn season. Crisp, and cold, with leaves falling off the trees. Fog forever creeping in the area. Owls and bats shrieking in the night.

It was haunting.

And Arackniss actually found it kind of serene. He liked it. 

Arackniss walked inside. Sitting on a wooden bench.

Now to just wait for the lanky Overlord. The ebony arachnid took out his pack of cigarettes, lighting one. He slowly took a drag. Feeling the burn of the nicotine pool into his lungs. Then he breathed out a ring of smoke.

His eyes scanned the area.

No sign of Zestial yet.

Just leaves, the wind and…

Shit!

Up above a tree, he saw a bat smack into one of Vox’s creepy drones, quickly falling from the sky. He quickly ran over, arms outstretched as he raced to catch the little guy.

“I got you! I got you!!”

He jumped, managing to feel the fuzzy little body against his hands. He quickly curled himself in, doing a small somersault on the ground to decrease his speed. Once he stopped rolling, he checked on the bat.

It had black fur. A long nose. Looked like it could be Hell’s version of a Tomb Bat. It had four eyes, and spikes protruding out from its back. Its wing looked like it was broken.

Shit. Must’ve gotten caught in the drone’s turbines.

It was screeching its head off. Poor thing. It must be in so much pain.

“It’s okay. You’re fine now.” He made his way back to the bench. He gently sat it down, ripping off the coattails of his suit. “You’re going to be okay. Once I’m done with my meeting, I’ll take you straight to the vet. We’re gonna get you all patched up. But for right now, I’m going to wrap up your wing with an amateur splint. It’s gonna be a little uncomfortable, but bare with me.”

The bat let out a cry. Yea. He totally understands how it must’ve felt. He had his arms broken plenty of times before. It wasn’t a fun feeling. He managed to find two discarded popsicle sticks next to a trash can. Gross. But it would have to do. He started to place the sticks along its wings. Securely wrapping them up in the fabric.

“I know. It sucks. You want to go back to flying and eating bugs. I totally get you. Hopefully that will be enough until we get to the Vet’s. I hope there’s one that’s open this late…” 

In the shadows, Zestial watched the spider sinner save and tend to the hurt bat. It was a side of the spider that the Overlord hadn’t seen. He would have thought that the spider sinner would have just abandoned the bat to die just like he had seen other sinners leave bats or spiders that were his. But not Arackniss. There was something about this spider that Zestial could tell that he was different.

“There you go. I know it’s a little shitty, but it’s just until I can get you to a vet, okay?”

The bat settled down a bit. Realizing that the ebony furred sinner wasn’t trying to harm it, but help. Arackniss pulled his jacket off, revealing a white undershirt that was underneath it. He wrapped the nocturnal animal up, sitting it down on the bench.

“There. You’ll be nice and comfortable until I can finish my meeting with Overlord Zestial. You probably don’t know who he is. But he’s an Overlord I’m meeting with. …You probably don’t even know what an Overlord is. Granted, I don’t expect you to. Oh here.” He reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a baggie of fruit slices. “I normally keep these snacks on me for my brother’s pet pig. Don’t let him know that. If he learns that I actually spoil the porcine, Tony will never let me hear the end of it.”

He pulled out one of the fruit slices, feeding it to the bat. It was a very sweet scene. One Zestial hated to disrupt.

But sadly, he had to. The Witching Hour has arrived and he hated to be late for a time he had set. 

So with that, he made his way out of the shadows and into the light.

“Hark, son of Henroin. How doth thee fair on this unholy night?”

The mobster jumped, quickly turning around and instinctively pulling his gun out on him. Only to see that it was the slender demon. Zestial did his best not to jump at the gun being drawn at him.

He had very quick reflexes.

“Ah, apologies.” He quickly pocketed his gun. “I was taught from a young age to draw quick, ask questions later.” 

“Tis nothing of it. Many a demon had this reaction to my presence.”

“Right. I believe we have a meeting to attend.”

Arackniss followed Zestial into the Moonglow Cavern, carrying the briefcase and the injured bat in hand. Once far enough to not even Vox’s drones could access, the elder demon spoke.

“With two weeks, I hath learned of valuable information. Thy mole has been known in court with Mafias in the other Rings. Primarily Greed and Wrath.”

That made sense to the petite Italian. Greed was where most of the Hellborn Mafia was from. While Wrath was well known for their wild western lifestyle. The seediest places for such a demon to conspire in.

“I see. And do you have any word on what this demon looks like?”

“Sadly, I do not.”

Fuck.

Still. They were in the early stages of gathering intel. This guy or gal was no rookie. Most likely they kept their form or nap hidden so that it would be harder for them to be found.

A pain in the ass, but not impossible.

“Okay.” Arackniss handed him the briefcase. “Here’s the next payment. Hopefully we can learn more of what they’re planning. Granted a week isn’t much, but any bit of information helps.” 

Zestial accepted the money, “Course, Son of Henroin.”

His eyes fell onto the bat.

“What is thy’s plan for the bat?”

Arackniss glanced down at his new fuzzy friend.

“Oh, he got hit by one of Vox’s drones. I was going to take him to a vet. I’m sure I can find a wildlife rehabilitation reserve around here somewhere that can take him in.

“Oh?”

“Yea. It’s not their fault we demons have made it almost impossible for them to adapt to our world. I mean, they have, but ya know, it ain’t far how we take over their land and destroy their homes, ya know?” 

“Aye. All too well, sadly.”

With that, Arackniss left with the bat in tow. Seeing the mafia spider caring for the wounded creature early, Zestial’s old heart felt a tiny spark. Something the demon hadn’t felt in a long, long time. But the Overlord could sense that there was a darkness shrouded around Arackniss also.

Could it be from the family that he was birth in? A hidden side that has condemned the small sinner to Hell like many others? Or the weight of something else?

So many mysteries. So many questions.

But he will learn them in due time.

As for now, he better get home. He has much work to do for both his estate and for the Ragnos.

Chapter Text

Paranoia swept through Don Henrion's home; a mole was suspected in the establishment. A drug deal went south; someone had tipped off their rivals about the deal. Arackniss had just stepped into the house with the injured bat tucked away hidden in his coat when he heard his father’s screams of rage. Usually, that meant one of two things; he was drunk or something went wrong and he was pissed.

Oh boy…

Hopefully, he can sneak in without his father noticing…

Wait.

He glanced up at the ceiling.

Technically he wasn’t supposed to be climbing on the walls. But considering the circumstances. From what it sounded like, Henroin was several rooms over. The petite mobster brought out his other limbs. Instantly scurrying up the walls and making his way to his bedroom.

The last thing he wanted was for his dad to take his anger out on him. Or kill the already injured bat he had in his arms.

As he continued his gravity-defying journey, he finally entered the room where his father was in.

“THE FUCKING SNAKE!!”

About the mole. Okay. Just be quiet and get to his room. Thankfully the household staff was making sure to still stay clear of the raging scorpion but also staying close by to clean up any messes that he created.

They really didn’t get paid enough to deal with his shit…

The Ragno Heir made a note to give them a raise in the new year.

A glass was smashed against the wall. Thankfully not anywhere near him. He left the room, hearing his father’s angry tirade fade into the background. Most likely he’ll be adding it for a while. If lucky, he might be able to catch his Nonna or Uncle Nico first. Normally running into them first minimized his father taking his anger out on him.

With a second party there, they typically knew how to reign him in.

Arriving at his destination, he lowered himself back onto the ground. Opening his bedroom door and going in. He instantly made his way to his bed, setting the bat down.

“Here ya are. I’m normally not in here much. Insomnia’s a bitch. But I gotta grab my keys for one of my other cars. It’ll only be a quick second.”

The bat only made a low painful squeak. Arackniss managed to grab the keys to one of his less flashy cars, the Bugatti EB110. He then picked up the little bat and snuck out of the house without being spotted. Which was a first.

He made his way to the garage and then unlocked the doors of the car. The outside of the car was a beautiful midnight dark blue that made it stick out among the other cars he had which were mostly a sleek black. He made a comfy spot for the bat on the passenger seat with his jacket then hopped into the driver seat. 

The driver's seat of all of his cars had to be custom-made due to his smaller appearance. If it was a normal seat, it would make him look like he was a little kid who couldn’t even reach the pedals or see over the dashboard.

Arackniss loathed his small height.

He swore this had to be one of God’s jokes.

If it wasn’t enough for the custom driver seats; the guy had to eat sitting on a high chair or worse, a car seat for when he had to get a ride with one of the other family members. It was humiliating! And it definitely didn’t help when the others in his family would constantly make jeers at his small size.

Fuck did he hate being so damn tiny.

He wasn’t going to think about that right now.

Just… drive to the nearest late-night vet office.

Taking a quick glance at Voogle, he input the address into his HPS. Once the address was inputted, he drove off.

Hopefully, the vet on duty can work their magic. He just wanted the little bat to get better. 

Thankfully the drive didn’t take long. And even more so, was the care for the bat. Probably only took two hours of his time. Paying the bill was no issue for him. It wasn’t going to break his bank. The Ragnos were the top illegal drug sellers in all of Hell.

There was a reason why they garnered about 4.6 billion dollars a year. And climbing!

The vet made her way back out, the bat in a small carrier.

“Here you are, Mr. Ragno. Your little friend should be fine in a few weeks.”

“ Grazie.”

She handed him a piece of paper.

“Here’s a list of instructions for his care. If you feel unable to care for him, there is also a bat sanctuary number on the bottom.”

“ Grazie, once again. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You have a lovely day. Come in two weeks from now so we can monitor his condition.”

“Will do. You have a good night.”

“You as well.”

Satisfied, Arackniss made his way out of the building. He held the cage up to his face to see the bat hanging upside down. His injured wing is in a cast.

“Feeling a little better, bud?”

A squeak was his answer.

“Good. I’m going to see about swinging ta a pet shop ta get ya some grub. I bet yer hungry, huh?”

A few more squeaks.

He’ll take that as a yes.

Now to pull out his keys-

“Hey Niss! Funny running into you so late at night!”

The mobster did his best not to groan at the voice. Please don’t let it be who he thought it was… Please don’t let it be who he thought it was…

He glanced back.

Fuck.

Yep. It was.

Slick Yukaza.

His self-proclaimed “ best friend”. When it was far from the truth, Slick was the eldest son of the Yukuza mafia. A Japanese-based syndicate from up top. Why the weasel insisted on being his friend he’ll never know.

He didn’t have friends. Only acquaintances.

The taller demon ran up to him.

“Slick.”

“So whatcha roamin’ the streets so late at night? Doin’ a nightly job?”

The spider shook his head.

“Nah. Vet visit.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize ya had a pet.”

“Oh, I don’t. But this little guy got hit by one of Overlord Vox’s drones. I was just getting him checked out. Little fella’ has a broken wing.” 

Arackniss tried to walk away but Slick stood in front of him.

“What’s the rush, Niss?”

He frowned.

“I gotta get to the pet store. Slick, it’s late, I need ta go so I can get home.”

“Oh, right, right. You probably want to get to bed, huh? Well, how ‘bout I treat you to breakfast? My treat!”

“I’ll have ta take a rain check.”

“O-Oh sure! Next time you’re free!”

“....sure.”

The weasel grinned.

“Great! Just let me know when bestie!”

“Uh huh…. Later.” The spider got into the driver's side, immediately speeding away the moment his car started. “Fuckin’ social vampire….”

He let out a sigh to himself. Get to the pet store, feed the bat, go home to shower, and hope his father is asleep. Damn, what a night…

In the Moonglow Cavern, news of the mole hidden in Don Henroin’s mafia had reached Zestial. Usually, stuff like this wouldn’t be a matter to him. However, with this new partnership between him and Henroin; Zestial decided to find the traitor as an act of chivalry towards the Don. Plus it would give him the chance to learn more about Arackniss.

That small spider had made his way into Zestial’s curious mind.

Many demons feared spiders and bats, but Arackniss didn’t. If anything he actively helped and comforted the little creatures. Not only that but unlike his father, he didn’t have an explosive temper.

Truly a curious breed.

How could a man of such cruelty and fear raise a child who was so caring and kind towards the smallest of creatures?

Truly an enigma.

The lanky spider demon traversed through the shadows. To find the mole, he had to start working down the pyramid. Arackniss and Henroin were automatically out. He made his way to the office building where the Ragnos conducted their business. As he entered many arachnid sinners moved to and fro. There were even some imps and hellhounds as well.

How queer.

His eyes scanned over them.

Who to speak with first…?

A blue scorpion caught his eye. Oh? Was this Henroin’s father? Maybe a chat with him could help further his mission. He slithered in front of him, causing the man to yelp in surprise.

“Hark, my fine fellow. May I speak with thee on urgent matters?”

The scorpion blinked at him.

“Oh, Overlord Zestial. Uh… Sure. I’m Dante Ragno. Henroin’s grandfather. I’m sure this has to be about the… rat problem?”

The ancient sinner nodded.

“Aye.”

“Follow me to my office.” 

Zetial followed the scorpion with ease. During the walk, he gazed at a few pictures hanging on the walls.

Family pictures of the Ragno Family, all in their sinner forms. Spiders, scorpions, vinegaroons, and many other different arachnids. Paintings and photos of the many centuries that have passed.

“Thou has been in the market for many moons, I see.”

Dante nodded.

“ Si. Our lineage traces to the knights in the Italian Monarch in 1240 A.D. Might even be longer. But that’s the earliest records that we have for our family tree.”

Zestial hummed. Seems the Ragno Family had a more ancient name than his own. No wonder many demons feared them as well.

Then came the hallway that had all of the former Dons. Each one with their names and dates of the time they were in office. They stopped at a door.

“This is my office. Make yourself comfortable.”

The Overlord carefully ducks his head under the doorframe. While the door frame was tall, the Overlord was still two feet taller than it was. A pain, but not too bothersome. Once inside, he went over to a chair, with Dante moving to sit behind his desk.

“So what can I do for ya, Zestial?”

“Thy’s great-grandson, Arackniss, has inquired about my services as an informant. I must ask thou if thou has noticed any stray occurrences in thy’s family members or staff?” 

Dante hummed.

“I can’t say I have. I’d start with associates. The imps, hellhounds, and other hellborns who are not connected by blood. Then work your way up. It has to be someone who can traverse to the other rings of Hell.” 

This did give Zestial something to work with. However, it did make it difficult to talk to them due to Zestial’s reputation as one of the most intimidating Overlords. Every time he tried to talk to an imp, hellhound, or anyone else, they would get terrified and run for the hills.

“I shall do diligence in my quest for knowledge.”

The elder Ragno nodded his head.

“Thank you for your help, Zestial. The Ragnos are in your debt.”

“Farewell.”

The terrifying Overlord sunk into the shadows, making his way out. Hopefully some of the hellborns would be smart enough to use their fear of him to give him any answers that he was seeking. His eyes peered around for any insight.

Ah.

That one will do.

An imp wearing a lab coat, glasses, and freckles going across his face. He quickly manifested in front of him.

“Hark, young hellborn. I wish to speak with thee.”

Imp gave a yelp, cowering in the presence of the terrifying Sinner.

“O-Overlord Zestial!”

“Aye. That be me.”

“W-w-what can I d-do for y-y-you?”

“Prithee, tell, what doth thou think of the Ragnos?”

“O-Oh uh… they’re… good employers…. I-I get paid to be one of th-their lab t-technicians…”

“No ill will?”

“N-No sir? Th-They t-take very g-g-good care of my f-f-family a-and I. E-e-espeically A-A-Aracknis s-s-sir. A-A pay r-raise e-each year.” 

The imp still shook with fear. Zestial seemed to tell that this imp was being honest then he slipped back into the shadows. 

The next demon he interacted with was a hellhound all dressed like they were from the 1940s themselves. Must be a standard fashion for the Ragnos.

“Hark, my dear fellows. Prithee shall ye give me insight?”

The hound jumped, but seemed to keep his cool at the terrifying demon before him.

“Uh… G-good day Mr. Zestial… uh… sir. What… can I do for you?”

“I wish intel. Pray thee, what is thine thoughts on the Ragnos?”

“Oh uh… they’re like most Mafia families I guess… Pay’s pretty good. The Don can be a right ole bastards but that’s given in this kinda work. Um… Underboss is pretty good at the business side of things. He pretty much keeps to himself… why?”

“How dost thee fair with them?”

“Uh… They’re okay I guess. We hellhound workers are mostly used to hunt down hellborns that owe a debt to the family. But we can take work in other areas. Like the labs.”

“Oh? So thou has no ill intentions?”

“Oh hell no! Yea, this is a shady business, but it’s waaaaay better than say, working for those Goetias.”

“Ah. I thank ye for thy’s services.”

As the ancient demon continued his investigation, everything he learned was pretty much the same. The lowerclass hellborns had no issues with the Ragnos. If anything, they all agreed that the pay was much better compared to what they would’ve gotten at any other job. Though many agreed that it was because Arackniss was the one who approved their paychecks and often gave every worker a salary increase each year.

How strange…

But it’s not surprising as being in the drug business in hell meant big money.

But it looked like he was coming up empty in today’s search.

A pity.

Maybe he can see if Arackniss would be willing to give him a list of everyone who worked under them. While he didn’t want to accuse any blood family members, it wouldn’t be uncommon that blood would betray blood.

Now let’s see if he can find Arackniss’s office… 

The overlord traveled by shadow until he found the office with the plaque that said, Underboss. That was the only thing on the door, no name. Zestial figured that this must be Arackniss’s office.

He gave a few knocks.

No answer.

Odd… was Arackniss not in?

He went to knock again.. Maybe he just didn’t hear him? 

“Arackniss? Tis Overlord Zestial. May I enter?”

Still no response.

How strange….

He placed his ear against the door. Voices. Ooooh… Oh, how rude of him. Arackniss was currently in the middle of a conversation. That wasn’t a problem at all. He just had to wait until he was done.

Though he was a little curious on who he was speaking with.

A family member?

An employee?

A client?  

How could it possibly be…?

The door finally opened with a purple-furred reindeer stepped out. The Sinner bowed as he made his exit.

“Thank you Mr. Ragno! We’ll be sure to have that money for you next Tuesday! I swear on my life!”

“You better, Mr. O’Hara. Tuesday is your deadline. This is your last extension. Our next mean, you will pay with your life.”

O’Hara gulped.

“U-Understood… Thank you again!”

Without another word, Mr. O’Hara bolted away. Huh. How odd…

“You may enter now, Mr. Zestial. I normally have rules on how a person should knock, but it seems no one told you the memo.” 

“Apologise, young spider.”

Arackniss let Zestial come inside. While he walked in, he noticed how organized everything was. Pictures and paintings are displayed on the walls with framed diplomas all lined up in order. Several filing cabinets, selves, and at least a few potted plants in the back up against the wall. 

Two things the overlord noticed was the number of elephant-themed items the spider had in his office. And he noticed that the tiny spider was busy typing away on his computer without looking up at him.

“Did you find anything?”

“Unfortunately, I hath not.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I wish if thou can provide a parchment of names for I to interrogate.”

The mobster finally looked up at him.

“....Sure. Give me a few minutes.”

Arackniss did more typing. Most likely looking through his database of all the names of who is on staff. Zestial decided to take the time to admire the smaller demon’s decore. Many of the elephant items looked very elegant and expensive. His eyes then caught something very… intriguing.

A Slothian Masterdon skull in a case.

“Prithee, where do thou obtain such an… unique object?”

Arackniss glanced over at him.

“Huh? Oh the elephant skull? Wicked Ways. It’s a goth store I normally go to. Only cost me $40,000. Pretty cool, huh?” 

Zestial looked intrigued to learn at least one thing about Arackniss; the spider loved elephants. Zestial wanted to learn more about Arackniss, so he asked a few questions. Just to get to know him.

“Thou are a fan of elephants?”

“ Si. They’re… very majestic creatures.”

“Ah. I see.”

Other than Elephant sinners or in books, Zestial has never actually seen an actual elephant. Nor had he desired to see such a creature before. But from what it looked like, Hell elephants were quite different from Earth elephants.

“May I put an aquire of why?”

The Ragno heir paused.

“Why?”

“Aye. That is what I hath said.”

“Uh… well… It’s… kind of a long story. But uh… they’re family-oriented and very smart creatures. I’ll um… just leave it at that.”

Hmm…. such a simple response but a hidden depth to it. He must learn more. But how to get the spider to trust him with his thoughts is one thing. While yes, they had their weekly deal to meet up for their usual business deal, the Overlord wanted more. 

Maybe he can gather more insight on the other spider by setting up another meeting per week? Though how he could go about it would be the question….

The sound of Arackniss’s printer coming to life interrupted his thoughts. He looked over to see what he assumed were the papers of the names of everyone under the Ragno’s employment. After a minute or two, Arackniss stabled the papers and then proceeded to offer to him.

“Here you are. Everyone is affiliated with our family. Along with a second list of all our enemies. I hope this will aid you in your search.” 

As Zestial looked over at the lists, one name on the list with everyone affiliated caught his eyes, Angel Dust. Of course, he had seen some of the billboards with that white spider who was working for Val. He never thought Arackniss and Angel Dust were family.

“This name? Angel Dust? Thou art family?”

The shock on Arackniss’s face from hearing that name was enough for Zestial to see that his theory was right.

The Italian Sinner huffed, turning his attention back to his screens.

“He’s my dumbass little brother. He ain’t involved in the family business no more. But he’s family. Doubt he’s the mole. He’s an idiot, but he ain’t got no filter. Wouldn’t be surprised if his fat mouth said something he shouldn’t.”

“Thy’s brother?”

“Unfortunately.”

Zestial hummed, looking down at the name. Maybe he could speak to Angel first. Though granted he’d probably have to request his services through Valentino… oh how revolting. To have to go through that perverted fool! Surely there was some other way he could speak to him without going through Valentino….

“Doth thou know of thy’s brother abode?”

“He’s apparently staying at the Princess’s hotel, last I heard.”

Then that’s where he will start. Maybe Angel would also be willing to give him more information on Arackniss.

“Thou hath my gratitude. I shall attend to meeting thy brother in post hast.”

“Yeah, you do that. Farewell.”

“Until then.”

Arackniss shook his head. Weirdo. If Zestial was going to be coming to his office so much, he was going to have to tell him the office etiquette. He didn’t him to interrupt important meetings again like that.

Now to focus on something more important.

Paperwork. (Yeah.)

After leaving the office, Zestial traveled to the princess’s hotel. Of course, he had heard of it from other demons but mostly from Alastor, the Radio Demon himself. Zestial and Alastor were friends; well-respected friends due to demons fearing them both. From the last meeting, Zestial was surprised to see Alastor back after mysteriously disappearing for seven years.

After a long walk, Zestial had finally arrived at the hotel.

Much had changed since the Extermination attack. The Princess and her little cohorts have managed to rebuild her little hotel from rubble. This new hotel looked sleeker, more put together, and modern.

Definitely quite eye-catching for sure.

There was even a statue upfront of one of the Princess’s former dragons. How sweet. A remembrance of his valiant sacrifice.

He knocked on the door.

Hopefully, someone was there and preferably not too busy.

The door opened to reveal… oh the fallen angel! How marvelous.

“Good day fair maiden. Is Angel Dust in thy attendance?”

Vaggie blinked up at him.

“Uh… yeah he’s in.” Her lone eye squinted at him in suspicion. “What for?”

“I am conducting business with Angel’s brother. He hath asketh of me to exterminate a pest.”

A pest huh? Most likely that means someone was playing a dangerous game in Angel’s family. She didn’t remember Angel ever bringing up his family. Most likely due to some bad blood. How bad, she didn’t know.

“Uh… sure. Come on in. I’ll go fetch him for you.”

“Much obliged.” 

Vaggie was about to leave when Charlie came over to the front door. Her warm smile and joyful energy could have covered hell.

“Oh. Lord Zestial. Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! What brings you here?”

Vaggie tapped her girlfriend's shoulder, “Babe, he wants to talk to Angel. He’s here on behalf of his brother.”

“Oh! I didn’t know Angel had any family here. Then again, he never mentioned them. But never mind, why don’t you come inside and we’ll get Angel for you.” 

“Much appreciated.”

While the two women went to bring down the famous arachnid, Zestial took a moment to take in the beauty of the new hotel lobby. It had a spacious open floor plan, with the check-in desk to the left as you came in. The bar was towards the back. The elevator right next door to it. On the far right was a cozy little living arrangement of some chairs, a couch, and a television.

The floors were a pristine gold and white with apples in the center.

The walls a grand and welcoming red with gold accents.

There was a grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling and two large fountains in the center.

Breathtaking.

At the bar, he could see a familiar face.

Husk. The former Overlord of Gambling. Oh? Did he work here now? How curious. He had heard rumors that he had lost his power. But to whom he didn’t know. He made his way over to the cat demon.

“Hark, Husk. How fair thee this fair day?”

The drunken demon’s ears perked at the voice, blinking in surprise to see the elder demon before him.

“....Zestial. What brings you in?”

“I hath acquired an attendance with Angel Dust. Family Matters.”

This caused Husk to blink in surprise.

“Really? Kid doesn’t really like to talk about his family.”

“His brother hath sent me.”

“Ah. Yea…. I don't think he's gonna wanna do anything with his family if ya manage ta get anything outta him. Good luck.” 

Zestial waited by the bar until Angel came down with his pet pig, Fat Nuggets. Alastor was also tailing behind him. He stopped when he saw Zestial here at the hotel.

“Greetings, Zestial,” he spoke in his radio announcer voice, “To what do we owe the pleasure of the oldest Overlord’s presence to grace the hotel?”

“Greetings Alastor. I has't cometh to speaketh with Angel Dust on a matt'r regarding his family by his broth'r's insistance.”

The famous spider quirks a brow at him.

“Huh?”

“He wishes to speak with you about your family with your brother’s assistance.” Alastor clarified.

“Ah. Sorry, I don’t speak medieval dribble.” He squinted up at him. “Though… why is the limp-dick drowned sewer-rat face, pipsqueak of a brother of mine wanting? Cause if he’s wanting to talk, tell him to shove his ass on that elephant head’s tusk of his!”

Zestial blinked in surprise.

That was…. not the response he was expecting.

“Pardon, me.  But is th're reasoneth wherefore thou art so harsh in doubting thy broth'r's intentions?”

Angel Dust scoffed. He didn’t fully understand some of the fancy words he was saying, but he was starting to pick up some context clues.

“He’s a fuckin’ jackass is what he is. He ain’t got no sense of self-worth other than being Pops’ little puppet. He was a shit brother growing up and he’s a shit brother now. Fucker is sending you of all people to come talk ta me. Coward.”

There was… no doubt a story behind the bad blood between the brothers. He’ll have to pry at a later time. Right now, he was currently on a mission.

“I und'rstand.  Coequal so, I wouldst still liketh to speaketh with thee.  Is th're somewh're private yond we can wend to? what I has't to asketh involves thy family business.  And I has't doubts those gents shall beest comf'rtable in knowing such news falleth on ears yond may beest detrimental.”

“....What?”

Husk rolled his eyes.

“He’s wanting to speak with you in private. It’s about your family’s business. He doesn’t want other people to overhear the conversation.”

“Ah. Okay then. But on one condition.”

The lankier arachnid tilted his head.

“Oh?”

The younger spider pointed at Husk.

“Husk is gonna translate what yer sayin’. Like I said before, I don’t speak medieval. I was born in the 1900s. Not the 1300s or whatever period you came from.”

Zestial nodded in understanding.

“Of course.  May we proce'd then?” 

Angel nodded, and then he and Husk took Zestial to the hallway for a private chat. 

“Alright, what does my short stack of a brother want?”

“Rum'rs of a trait'r has't been did spread 'round thy fath'r's mob. I has't off'r'd to assisteth Arackniss in finding the mole.  I did see thy nameth on the listeth thy broth'r gaveth me.”

“He’s saying that…” Husk started.

“I didn’t need a translator to know that part,” Angel scoffed, “Niss thinks I have something to do with a mole in the family. As far as I’m concerned, they are double dead to me.”

Zestial shook his head.

“T's not yond thy broth'r, specifically believes thou art the mole.  But yond thee may has't accidentally reveal'd something without meaning to.”

That… did make Angel feel a little better. Even though the two of them couldn’t stand each other, at least Arackniss didn’t believe he would purposely betray the family like that.

“I see…. I do hang out wit’ the other mob families when I go out drinkin’ on my nights off. I don’t typically bring up the family. Though… Maybe check with the Winter Family. Aka, the Fox Mafia. They’re our biggest rival. There’s also the Yukazas, but Slick, the Underboss of the Yukazas, likes ta claim Niss is his ‘ best friend’, so I doubt they’d do anything ta fuck up with us.”

Kinahan family?

Hmm… That would be a good place to start.

“And thee bethink not any of thy owneth family memb'rs wouldst betray thee?”

Angel shook his head.

“Don’t get me wrong, there are times when that does happen, but I can guarantee ya, my generation of cousins, their kids, and I think grandkids wouldn’t do such a thing. We cousins have always been kinda a tight-knit lil’ group. ‘Nd while something Niss is an anti-social lil’ gremlin, none of us would even dare ta backstab our family. It ain’t jus’ a business. We’re an actual family too.”

Ah that made sense. This was their trade. While not the most noble of profession, it was still their profession.

“I seeth.  Thanketh thee f'r speaking with me.  I doth desire yond the next timeth we doth, t is f'r pleasure and not business.”

The Porn Star smirked.

“Well, Daddy long legs, if yer lookin’ for pleasure, I’d be happy ta offer my services.”

“Angel!” Husk scolded.

“What??”

Zestial chuckled.

“While I am did impress by thy courage and f'rwardness, I sadly has't to decline.  F'r mine own eyes art strictly f'r anoth'r at the moment.  I desire to gain access into his mind and heart as timeth decrees.”

Angel blinked, smirking slyly.

“Oh is that so? Who's the lucky guy? I wouldn’t mind hearin’ all the juicy deets.”

Zestial gave him a kind smile.

“At a lat'r date, I shalt shareth with thee.  But unf'rtunately t is too lief.”

“Ah, I getcha.”

“Thee has't a valorous day.”

As he made his way out, Zestial mused over what he learned. Angel didn’t make any slips to other families while out. So then that must mean the mole must’ve come from one of the rival families. But which one?

Angel said the Winter Mafia was the Ragnos' biggest rivals.

So it looks like he’s got some fox hunting to do.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Into the Fox’s Den

Zestial’s search for the mole had gotten off to a good start. He had one place to start with; the Winter Mafia who happened to be all fox sinners. Taking the whole ‘as sly as a fox’ phrase to heart. Making them the first suspects.

With them in mind, he started to dispatch the main device that landed him as the Informant Overlord.

His spiders.

Yes. These nifty little hell-creatures allowed him to gain intel all throughout the seven rings. Such clever little things they were.

Though it would take him some time to locate which foxes were part of the Winter Mafia. There were many different fox Sinners in hell. So he couldn’t just take a guess at it. Not when Arackniss and the Ragnos were paying him for his time.

He was currently heading towards Carmilla’s place. Requesting assistance from her daughters, Clara and Odette. 

Voxtech wasn’t really Zestial’s style. He’s kind of like Alastor; prefers the simple things to crazy tech from the Vees. Carmilla loathes the Vees too because they weren’t really Overlords to be taken seriously or likeable among the others. More like smug, vein wannabes that don’t take warnings seriously. 

Zestial made his way to Carmilla’s warehouse.

One knock was all he needed before the doors were opened. No doubt her non-VoxTex seeing that it was him. He slipped inside, making his way toward his dearest friend’s living quarters. He knocked on the door.

“Come in, Zestial.”

The elder demon entered. Odette and Clara were standing beside their mother at the top of the stairs. Carmilla’s tough exterior slowly melted, seeing her old friend. 

“Zestial, what brings you here, old friend?” Carmilla spoke as she and her daughters descended from the top of the stairs.

“I am needing help on using the int'rnet. Th're is a sir I wisheth to knoweth m're about, but that gent is quite a myst'ry.  I desire to gath'r some insight.”

Carmilla nodded in understanding. She called for her daughters. They quickly entered the room. Odette spoke first.

“You called, mom?”

Carmilla gestured to Zestial.

“Zestial needs your help in navigating the internet. He wants to look up a man to see if there is any information online about him.”

Clara perked up, heading over to the computer.

“Oh sure! What’s this guy’s name?”

“Arackniss Ragno.”

The two girls paused, sharing a look.

“Arackniss Ragno? The…. Ragno Heir?”

Zestial blinked.

“Thou knowst of him?”

“Not really,” Odette spoke up. “Just that he’s Henroin’s oldest. No one really knows much about him.”

Clara nodded.

“I don’t think he really has an online presence. But we can check The Underground.”

The elder man tilted his head.

“Under…ground?”

Odette went and slid into the chair where the computer desk was.

“It’s what demons called the Dark Web. It is where you can find traffickers, the Mafia Families, and other illegal activities.” 

The older Overlord watched Odette go on the computer and search the Dark Web. He scanned over the screen for any leads on the mole. She typed in Arackniss’s name into the dark web search bar.

Instantly, articles of the Ragno’s mafia popped up.

None specifically using his name.

But there were other aliases that they used for him.

Araña Diablo.

The Black Death.

Whispers.

The Shadow. 

Silent Death

The Petit Reaper. 

Itsy Bitsy….

Though that one seems to be an insult. Though it seemed the newer the articles, the less you heard of the spider. Old articles with photos from the ’50s and ’60s would appear, but each decade, less and less he would appear. Odette whistled low, scrolling through the articles. 

"Man, this guy was a ghost even when he was active," she murmured. 

Zestial leaned in, his crimson eyes narrowing at the screen. 

“He hath been most careful, it seems. The old ways valued secrecy, but this—” he gestured at the diminishing records “—this is more than caution.”

Carmilla folded her arms, scrutinizing the screen. “It’s a deliberate erasure. If his name was feared enough to gain titles like Silent Death or The Black Death, then he was a key player. Yet, someone ensured he faded into obscurity.”

“Or maybe he’s not doing fieldwork anymore,” Clara added. “Mafia families have a hierarchy. Most likely he was so well-known as he used to be a soldier. But as he got higher in the ranks, the less he appeared in the public.”

That… also sounded reasonable.

“I see…”

Well, there was some information. But not as much as he was hoping for.

“What can thou find on the Fox Mafia? I knowest that they be the Ragnos rivals. The Winter Clan.”

Odette put the Winter Fox Mafia in the search bar. More articles appear.

“Let’s see… Winter Mafia. The leader is Finnigan. They’re from a long Irish descent. They’re the longest-standing rivals against the Ragnos. Often trying to copy their drugs but missing a key component that makes the Ragno’s so addicting.”

“Venom-infused drugs,” Clara clarified. “It’s the Ragnos specialty. Made with their own venom each with different properties. Ranging from aphrodisiac to torture.”

How queer…

“Oh, it looks like they just announced a gala for Valentine’s Day,” Odette spoke up. “Maybe you can see about being invited.”

Zestial nodded. “Yes… Being in court will grant many opportunities to assist in Ragnos' endeavors for the mole.” 

Carmila cleared her throat, “Are you certain that Henroin will allow you to come? You know he’s not as open-minded as other Overlords?”

Zestial straightened, fingers brushing over his chin in thought. "A fair point, Carmilla. Yet, Henroin is a businessman first. If ye present myself as an asset rather than a mere guest, he may see the value in thine’s attendance."

She hummed. 

“I can see your logic. What is your plan on securing an invite?” 

He smiled, glancing down at one of his spiders that had lowered from his hat onto his hand. 

“A plus one for court is thine’s scheme.” 

“You want to what?” 

“I wish to be thou’s plus one for the Winter’s court.” 

Henroin stared at the elder demon. 

“A plus one…?” 

“Aye. To gather further intel to the fox den.” 

The Spider Don hummed, leaning back in his seat. The Valentine's Day gala was basically the Fox Mafia’s way to gloat about how many of their spouses or dates they managed to infiltrate higher social statuses by either getting in contact with the Goetias or the Sins. 

Though Henroin himself knew Anthony was personal friends with the literal Princess of Hell. There was no topping that. 

But it also allowed other families to be on neutral ground as they bragged about their accomplishments. While also seeing what their rivals have been up to.

Normally he, his consiliage Nico, Arackniss, and his nonno, Dante were invited to represent the Ragnos. Though his son typically refused to attend such functions. His boy hated parties. Or socializing in general. Half the time he had to drag his ass out. 

However, he always managed to vanish into thin air during the whole party. He had a good feeling he was hiding to avoid interacting. Which was terrible in his mind. The Valentine's Day gala presented a chance for Arackniss to meet and try to charm many single women. Plus if Arackniss didn't learn some people skills, he’ll never be an influential Don when he takes over. 

His business forte was tremendous. But his social skills were complete shit. 

“Alright. But in one condition.” 

Zestial tilted his head. 

“What is thou’s condition?” 

“You go with Arackniss.” 

“Why?” 

Henroin sighed, leaning back in his seat. 

“No offense to my son, but he's not a people person. Anti-social is the word they use nowadays. Not a good look at having as heir of a Mafia family. Not to mention he always vanishes during a party. And that makes us look flaky. So while you scoop the foxes out, I need you to keep an eye on my kid. Also, many of the other families don't respect my kid. Since he's so small. He can hold himself in a fight, but he's got a temper like me. And other families will use his temper to twist his words and claim we disrespected them.” 

“I see.” Zestial said, clearing his throat “Very well. I shall be thy son’s plus one.”

Henroin shifted uncomfortably, “I’ll let Arackniss know. Sadly, he isn’t here. My daughter dragged him out of the house.”

Zestial nodded in understanding. 

“Very well. May thou have a pleasant night, Henroin Shall I expect thy’s metal carriage or provide my own?” 

“Niss will pick you up. He's… very picky particular about who drives him.” 

“Splendid. Have him meet me at Moonglow Cavern. I shall take my leave.” 

He started to leave, only to halted once more. 

“Before you go. No orchids.” 

Zestial blinked, facing him. 

“No orchids?” 

Henroin took a drag. 

“My kid’s allergic. So avoid any cologne or flowers made with orchids, alright?” 

Arackniss… was allergic?? Oh dear. That… that wasn't good. 

He forced a smile, bowing in understanding. 

“Of course. Good day, Henroin.” 

Zestial frowned to himself as he made his way out. No orchids… this would be tricky. His favorite flowers were orchids. But if he wanted to stay in the Ragno’s good graces, then he’d forgo the plants. 

The health of Arackniss was more important than his own personal preferences.

After a long day of spending time with Molly or as Arackniss liked to call it, “A double hell with one of the Trouble Twins” he was ready to head back up to his room. He even went to visit the injured bat at the vet clinic before heading back home. Only when he got home did his father tell him that Zestial would join him at the Valentine’s Day Gala as his plus one? He wanted to refuse but the gala was important, not to mention Henroin wanted the partnership with Zestial. So he agreed to pick up Zestial at his house and then head to the gala.

He went down to the garage, grabbed the keys to his midnight blue Phantom Rolls Royce, and drove off.

He sighed. 

He hated parties. 

There were too many people. It was too loud. Plus it was just an excuse to any hosting family to show off their wealth. He hated it. Everyone was fake and just acting nice to save face. 

He’ll probably do what he normally does and hide out in their garden with the animals. 

No one bothered to ever take notice of him anyway. 

But he figured having Zestial with him wouldn’t be so bad. Plus the twins were gonna be there but Arackniss wasn’t too worried about Molly, it was Angel.

His brother's reputation as Hell’s famous porn star came with a lot of mockery and jeers. Not to mention his brother's queerness was… not favorably looked upon. Many of them and the older generations still didn't take too kindly to those who were in the LGBTQ+ community.

Hell, even he and his own father were just accepting his brother's sexuality. 

Homophobia was still rampant. But they were changing…

Slowly.

It was hard to break the mindset of the culture one grew up in.

Then there was the problem of his brother's fat mouth. He was loud, crude, and overly sexual. Never thinking ahead of how his words or actions would affect the family. Overall, Angel was a dumbass. Plain and simple. So that meant he’d have to play babysitter with him.

Just lovely. 

He appeared at Moonglow Cavern. 

Finally. 

And there was Zestial waiting for him. The man’s large wings wrapped around him. Spider-bat if he recalled the ancient sinner’s form correctly. 

He pulled up next to him, unlocking the doors so he could enter. 

He did so. 

Zestial was surprised at how low and spacious the front seat was. He expected to be cramped up. But instead, he had plenty of room.

He gave a friendly smile to the smaller arachnid.

“Hark Arackniss. How fair thee this evening?” 

Arackniss shrugged. 

“As I do every day. Survive until the day is over and expect the next to be just the same or worse.” 

Zestial blinked at the response. 

“Is thou not excited for thee court?” 

He snorted, heading back towards the city. 

“I hate parties. You do your thing and I'll do mine. The less they see me, the better.” 

That… was not what he was expecting. Why did Arackniss not like going to court? Yes, he knew he was not into large crowds, but surely there was more to it. 

There had to be. 

Henroin was counting on him to keep an eye on the petite Italian. And he was going to keep his word. 

The drive was mostly quiet; none of them talked to each other. By the time Zestial was about to ask Arackniss something, they had arrived at the gala. Arackniss turned to Zestial.

 “You already know my father and brother. So fair warning when you meet my sister, Molly. She’s Anthony’s twin and just as crazy as him.”

“Oh?” 

“Molly's gonna act nice and sweet to yer face. But if ya slight her in any way, she goes psycho. Think of her like Velvette. But she ain't afraid to shoot a bastard in the head or bust his knees in.” 

Yellow eyes widened in surprise.

“Is that so?” 

“Sí. She's a flirt too. Uses it ta gather intel on the other families. She's slept wit' at least one member of each family.” 

That was… quite interesting. 

“I am surprised she hast able to convince ‘em to convey such secrets.” 

Arackniss's grin sharpened. 

“Ragno's specialty. Truth venom.” 

Zestial knew that spider sinners had different types of venom depending on their breed, so he was curious to learn about Arackniss’s venom. “And what of thy’s venom?”

Arackniss stuttered; he didn’t want Zestial to know the truth about himself. So he just shook it off and stepped out of the car. Zestial felt like he overstepped so he didn’t say anything else to Arackniss as he stepped out of the car. 

The two of them stood outside of Winter Mafia’s home, which screamed more like a palace.

That made him curious. Were all the Mafia families like this? With grand homes, luscious gardens, and immaculate decor? It reminded him much of the wealthy merchants, counts, countesses, dukes, and duchesses from when he was alive.

Arackniss had handed his keys to the valet, leaving the two to head on in. He flashed the invitation at the guards, granting them access. Thankfully Molly was there, so he was quick to grab her.

“Molly.”

“Hi, Nicky.”

She took notice of Zestial.

“Oh! Hello Overlord Zestial. I’m Molly!”

He took her hand, bowing as brought it up, placing a kiss on it.

“I am delight'd to meeteth thee mine own lief.  I has't hath heard much about thee. I'm accompanied as thy brother's plus one for the evening.  On behalf of thy father.”

She giggled.

“Oh thank ya, sug.” She eyed her brother. “Plus one?”

The mobster shrugged.

“Business.”  The eldest Ragno sibling motioned headed towards where the Winter Don and his entourage were seated not too far away. “Molls, I need you to-” 

“Speak on your behalf like you always, have me do?”

“...Yes.”

She sighed.

“Ya know Nicky, one of these days I ain’t gonna be here to keep doing this for ya.”

“I’ll fund your next shopping spree.”

“Deal!”

Zestial tilted his head in confusion. Why would Arackniss not want to speak for himself? Wasn’t the point of his role as a mafia underboss and the heir of the Ragno empire to discuss and make pleasantries of his fellow men? He followed them as they headed towards the table. The smallest spider kept his head down as they approached. Molly smiled as she addressed the men before her.

“Greetings Don Winter. On behalf of the Ragnos, we would like to thank you for inviting us to your gala.” She motioned to her brother, who pulled out a small box from his pocket. “We brought a gift as a thank you.”

Arackniss handed the box over to one of their guards.

The guard brought the box over to their leader. He opened it, revealing an expensive watch. He nodded in approval.

“Thank you for the gift.” Finnigan’s eyes landed on Arackniss. “Though I am surprised that your brother, the heir of your father’s business, couldn’t communicate on his behalf.”

Arackniss’s jaw grits, casting a glance at his sister. Thankfully Molly knew how to handle it. She gave a light laugh.

“Oh, you know my brother. He jus’ ain’t a talker. But I’m sure when the time comes, he’ll happily speak when he’s ready.”

“I’m sure.” He caught sight of Zestial. He made sure to keep himself calm. “Overlord Zestial. I had no idea you would be attending. We appreciate you making time out of your business schedule to attend.”

Zestial gave a polite nod.

“I am a representative for the Ragnos tonight. I look forward to the festivities.”

The Irishman gave a tight smile.

“Of course. You all enjoy yer evening.”

They walked off. Arackniss felt the tension leave his shoulders. He hated being in the presence of the other Dons. Speaking with them always brought his anxieties to the surface. He never trusted himself to speak. Terrified that he’ll say something wrong or offensive. And that was the last thing his family needed. For him to sully their reputation all because he couldn’t keep his anxieties under control. It was just easier to rely on one of his relatives to speak for him.  Less likely for him to embarrass himself. 

Zestial kept his eyes open and his ears sharp for any possible signs of a suspect.

Many kept side-eyeing him or the Ragno siblings. But from the looks of it, they were all treating each other civilly. But no more than needed. It was obvious the parties were on neutral grounds. A temporary truce so enemies and allies can scope each other out.

It might be best if he went to mix and mingle. To subtly see if he could detect any notions of betrayal from them.

“Arackniss, I-”

He blinked, not seeing the mobster next to him. He quickly scanned the area for him. Where did he go?? 

He caught sight of the shorter arachnid heading into the other room. 

Where was he going? He quickly ushered a few of his spiders to spread out into the venue. Once that was all set, he made his way to where Arackniss was heading. Henroin had told him that he needed to keep an eye on him.  Hopefully, everything will be alright.

Zestial wove his way through the crowd, steps light as a shadow, his keen gaze never straying far from the path Arackniss had taken. The spider moved with intent, shoulders tense, as though the weight of the room pressed heavier upon him than it did the others. Zestial could not fathom why the heir to such a formidable empire would shrink in the presence of these men. Did he not know the power he held? The fear his family name inspired?

Yet, that was not his concern. His task was to observe, to protect, and, if necessary, to intervene.

The next room was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the main hall. Here, the air carried the scent of whiskey and cigar smoke, a quieter space where business was whispered rather than declared. Arackniss had stopped near a table at the far end, facing a sharply dressed man with an expression far too smug for Zestial’s liking.

Zestial approached, keeping to the shadows of the room. He listened.

“Hey bestie, ya made it!” Slick shouted.

“Yea, yea. I’m jus’ grabbin’ a drink.”

“Oh c’mon Nick, live a little. Sit, take a load off. It’ll be like back in ‘44!”

“....fine. Only one.”

“Thatta boy! Bartender! Two whiskeys!”

The bartender, an imp, fixed their drinks and then passed them over to them. The man, some weasel demon, took a sip of his.

“I’m glad yer here, Nick. The party will be much more entertaining with us here!”

“....Kei, please, we both know this is a Valentine’s Day gala. It’s mostly for couples.”

“We could dance if that’s-”

“You know I don’t swing that way.”

“You can dance with friends. That doesn’t mean it’s romantic or anything. Just two pals havin’ a grand ole time.”

The spider sighed.

“I don’t dance. You know that.”

“....alright. Gotcha. I totally get ya. So what’s new on your end? How’s that new pet of yours?”

“The bat isn’t a pet. But he’s recovering well. Once his wing is all healed up, he’ll be released back into the wild.”

“You always had a weird way with animals, my friend.”

A shrug.

“They’re better company than most people,”

“Can’t argue with that.” 

Zestial observed in silence, his sharp gaze flickering between Arackniss and the weasel demon, Slick. There was something about the demon’s easygoing demeanor that didn’t sit well with him. Too smug. Too casual. Words wrapped in honey often hid the taste of poison.

“An old companion, art thou?” Zestial finally spoke, stepping forward from the shadows. His presence alone shifted the energy in the room, the dim light casting a long shadow across the table.

Slick startled slightly before regaining his composure, flashing a toothy grin. “Well, well, if it ain’t the great Overlord Zestial. Didn’t expect to see ya here. What brings you to our little chat?”

Zestial tilted his head, his expression unreadable.

“I seek only to ensure that my charge is well.” His gaze flickered briefly to Arackniss, who tensed but said nothing.

Slick chuckled, swirling his whiskey.

“Ah, so yer playin’ babysitter, huh?”

Zestial did not react. He simply stepped closer, his towering figure casting a deeper shadow over the table.

“A curious word, ‘babysitter.’ It doth suggest helplessness, doth it not?” His voice was smooth, unshaken. “Yet I see no babe before me. Only men… and men shouldst be wary of their words.”

Slick’s grin twitched, but he played it off with a laugh.

“Ain’t no harm meant, pal. We’re just talkin’, catchin’ up.”

Arackniss exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple.

“He’s not wrong. We are just talkin’.”

Zestial studied him for a long moment, then gave a slow nod.

“Then let us keep it so.”

His tone was polite, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.

Slick raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright. No trouble from me.”

Zestial did not step back entirely. His presence remained a lingering force, a silent guardian in the dimly lit room. For even in the company of old friends, one could never be too careful.

Slick snort. 

“Henroin still an overprotective bastard?”

Arackniss shrugged. 

“He like to keep an eye on me.” 

“Helicopter parent.” 

“Pot meet kettle.” 

“It's different in our culture.” 

“Not really. The eldest son takes care of his aging parents. That's how it is.” 

“We don't really age down here.” 

“Not physically.” 

“You speakin’ to that pansy of a brother of yours?” 

“More or less. Mostly less.” 

“You feel weird ‘bout the career he's in?” 

“He was disowned and died before my pops and I did. What my dumbass of a brother did before we arrived is his own business. I ain't his keeper.” 

“Fair.” He glanced up at the ancient Sinner. “Ya buddy goin’ ta join us or keep starin’ at us like a creeper?” 

Zestial did not so much as flinch at Slick’s remark. His gaze remained steady, unblinking, as if he were dissecting the weasel demon with nothing more than his eyes.

“Mine presence dost unsettle thee?” he mused, tilting his head slightly.

Slick smirked, resting an elbow on the table.

“Unsettle? Nah. But ya sure do have a way of makin’ a guy feel like he’s under a damn spotlight.”

Zestial merely offered a slow, knowing smile.

“A most curious observation… for only those with shadows to hide doth fear the light.”

Arackniss sighed, rubbing his temple again.

“Can we not? I already got a headache.”

Slick chuckled.

“Fine, fine. No spookin’ the company.” He took a swig of his whiskey before leaning back. “So, what’s the deal with this guy? Ain’t often ya see an Overlord playin’ bodyguard.”

Zestial clasped his hands behind his back.

“Mayhaps I find mine time well spent in vigilance, rather than indulgence.”

“Sounds like a fancy way of sayin’ ya don’t trust me.”

Zestial’s polite smile did not waver. “Aye.”

Arackniss groaned. “For the love of—Slick, don’t poke the bear. Zestial, don’t poke the weasel. Can we just drink in peace?”

Slick grinned, clearly entertained.

“Fine, Nick. No pokin’.” He tipped his glass toward Zestial. “Just don’t hover too much, big guy. Some of us like our personal space.”

Zestial remained silent for a moment, then gave a slow nod. But he did not move from his spot. The two mobsters continued to converse. Mostly Slick talking with Arackniss responding when necessary.

But it looked like the longer the conversation went on, the more exhausted the Italian looked.

Eventually, Arackniss stood up, causing Slick to stop mid-sentence.

“Nick?”

“Mi dispiace, Kei. There’s still a whole party and I’m sure the other families would like to see we’re not being disrespectful.”

The weasel deflated a bit.

“O-oh uh… yea. I get that. I’ll see you around?”

“Yea.”

Pleased, Zestial gave Slick a curt nod, then followed the mobster out back into the many ballrooms. The elder arachnid was pleased that they were no longer in the presence of the Asian rodent.

He didn’t like him.

He glanced down at Arackniss.

“Lief cousin of thou?”

“No. Slick ‘nd I met in World War Two. He thought I was part of the Tripartite Act.” Taking note of the Overlord’s confusion, he continued. “It’s a treaty between Germany, Japan, and Italy. The German leader, Adolf Hitler was committing a mass genocide against Jewish people and anyone that he didn’t deem fit in his views. Italy was under a fascist dictator of the time and Japan just came out of self-isolation.”

“Aren’t thee from Italy?”

“My Pops and my siblings were born and raised in America. My Bisnonna, bisnonna, Nonna, and Nonno immigrated to America for better opportunities to expand the family business. I was on the Allies side. With Britain, Russia, and the United States.”

Ah.

He heard a little bit about the world wars. 

It was very confusing for him. He was no stranger to war. Europe at the time had many of them during his time alive.

“Anyways, we spent a night at a bar during Christmas Eve. Ever since then, he thought we were buddies. We ain’t. But I’ll be civil for his sake.”

Ah. He understood. It was just mere pleasantries. The sneaky weasel meant nothing to him.

“I understand.”

Arackniss hummed, adjusting his tie as they maneuvered through the bustling ballroom. His exhaustion was evident, though he masked it well behind a carefully composed expression. Zestial, however, was not so easily fooled. The Overlord studied him for a moment before speaking. 

“Thou seemeth weary.”

“Yea, well… these kinda events drain ya, y’know? Too many people, too many eyes. Ain’t my thing.”

Zestial nodded thoughtfully. 

“And yet thou still attendeth.”

“Gotta keep up appearances,” Arackniss muttered, rolling his shoulders. “The other families expect it. Can’t have ‘em thinkin’ we’re slackin’.”

“Loyalty to duty, even at great cost,” Zestial mused. “A burden most heavy.”

Arackniss smirked slightly. 

“Yeah, well, you get used to it.”

They continued in silence for a while, weaving through the lavishly decorated hall. Arackniss took a glass of champagne from a passing tray but didn’t drink it, merely rolling the stem between his fingers.

Zestial’s eyes flickered toward the surrounding guests. He could feel the weight of gazes, some subtle, others not. Whispers trailed behind them like the faintest of breezes.

“Thou art watched,” he remarked, low enough that only Arackniss could hear.

The spider demon chuckled dryly.

“Always am.”

He finally took a sip of the champagne, grimacing at the taste. Too sweet.

Zestial exhaled through his nose, displeased. He had no fondness for these courtly games, the politics of false smiles and hidden knives. And yet, he remained—his silent presence a shadowed wall between Arackniss and whatever unseen threats lurked in the gilded halls.

“Hey, Whispers!”

Aw shit.

The petite demon’s mouth instantly clamped shut. His grip tightened on the glass. Not enough to break it, but enough that it started to crack a tiny bit. Zestial looked over at the voice.

Ah.

It was one of the Winter members.

Arackniss turned to face them, giving a polite nod.

“Aaww, not gonna grace us with your voice this party?”

He shook his head. Zestial tilted his head at the thin mobster’s sudden change. He could literally feel his anxiety spike from here. What could he be anxious about? The fox clicked his tongue.

“Damn. Once again, Slick is the only one to pry your jaws open.”

A shrug. He glanced up at the elder Overlord. He could see in the younger’s eyes that he was nonverbally begging him to speak on his behalf. He motioned for him to lean down, which he complied.

“Tell him that I’m just not a talker.” He whispered.

Confused as he’s seen Arackniss engage in conversation, but decided to respect the younger man’s request. He stood up, giving the fox a polite smile.

“Pardon me. My cohort is not much of one to engage in lengthy conversations.”

The Fox hummed, glancing over at the Ragno Heir. Arackniss said nothing. He hummed.

“Yes… We are all very aware of that. Slick must be something special since he’s the only one to get you talking.” He gave a polite but tight smile at the Overlord. “Sly Winter. A pleasure to have you in attendance, Overlord Zestial.”

“A pleasure as well.”

The small spider gave another lame shrug once the lupine sinner turned his focus back toward him.

“You and Slick are quite chummy, aren’t ya?”

Zestial nodded.

“They hath known each other since their Earthly ties. Tis expected.”

“Uh-huh. How nice.” He turned back to Arackniss. “Well, Whispers, I wanted to say that I hope the Ragnos have a pleasant time at the party. We are also hoping to discuss a new contract with you in the coming quarter.”

Arackniss hummed, motioning with his fingers for Zestial to lean down once more.

He complied.

“Tell him I will have to look at my schedule for when an opening is free. We can discuss contractual expectations over email.”

He nodded in understanding, then faced the fox.

“He shall has't to behold at his scheduleth f'r at which hour an opening is free. Then thee can break with contractual expectations ov'r email.”

“Of course. I expect nothing less. Enjoy the party, you two.” 

Zestial watched as Sly Winter disappeared into the crowd, his presence leaving behind an air of unease that settled heavily on Arackniss’s shoulders. The younger demon exhaled slowly, his fingers flexing at his sides as if shaking off the lingering tension. Zestial did not press, but he took note. 

“Whispers?” he murmured, intrigued.

Arackniss groaned, rubbing his face. 

“A dumb nickname I got stuck with.”

The Overlord arched a brow. 

“Due to thy reserved nature, I presume?”

“Bingo,” Arackniss muttered, grabbing another champagne glass from a passing server but, once again, not drinking it. “Back when I was still workin’ under my pops, I kept my mouth shut during meetings. Listened, observed, and didn’t talk unless necessary. So, y’know… ‘Whispers.’” He scowled slightly. “It stuck.”

Zestial hummed in understanding. 

“A title of mystery and caution. Though it doth seem to hold a weight thou art not fond of.”

Arackniss scoffed. 

“It ain’t that. It’s just… some people like to make a big deal outta nothin’. Some of ‘em—” he gestured vaguely toward where Sly had disappeared “—think it means somethin’ deeper. Like I got some grand strategy or hidden agenda.” He shook his head. “I don’t. I just don’t like talkin’ to people.”

The elder demon chuckled, amused. 

“A sentiment I can respect.”

Arackniss snorted but didn’t argue. His shoulders, however, remained tight.

“…Thou art troubled,” Zestial observed after a pause.

Arackniss exhaled sharply through his nose. 

“I don’t like the Winters.”

A simple statement, but one with weight.

Zestial nodded, encouraging elaboration.

“They’re opportunists,” Arackniss muttered. “Good businessmen, sure. But they’ll stab ya in the back the second it benefits ‘em. Sly ain’t as bad as some of the others, but I don’t trust ‘em. They don’t do ‘friendly’ unless they want somethin’.”

Zestial glanced toward the crowd. 

“And this contract they wish to discuss?”

“I’ll have to see what they’re after,” Arackniss said, swirling the champagne in his glass. “But I ain’t makin’ any deals without runnin’ it by my people first.”

A wise choice.

Zestial placed a reassuring hand on the younger demon’s shoulder. 

“Then tread carefully, Ragno heir.”

Arackniss smirked wryly. 

“Always do.”

And with that, he downed the too-sweet champagne in one go, grimacing as the bitterness of the aftertaste settled in. He sat the empty glass on an imp waiter’s passing tray.

“I’m goin’ out fer a smoke. You do… whatever it is best by scopin’ out the info ya need.”

The elder spider watched him leave. He let out a sigh. Arackniss was quite a curious fellow. But he did have a job to do. He peered through the crowd. He noticed Molly and Angel chatting away with other guests.

…Oh.

And Valentino, too.

He’ll be sure to avoid the perverted fool as much as he can.

His eyes caught sight of a family of badgers. Maybe he can start off with them. 

The gardens were as beautiful as one could imagine. Many rare and common flowers were planted in sections. The look was neat and clean. Trees and hedges were trimmed to perfection. The walkways were made of clean golden-colored bricks.

Almost looked like they were made out of gold.

Grandiose fountains sprayed water to create an elegant air of sophistication.

Some had a small patio chair and table next to them.

Which was where one mobster was currently at. Not at the table or chairs, but near a tree that was next to the fountain. He had traversed far into the garden in an attempt to avoid the suspicious gazes and false niceties.

As expected, the moment he sat down, animals in a radius of fifteen feet went over to him. He smiled at them.

He always felt more comfortable with animals than other people.

He knew petting or interacting with wild animals was technically bad. But he couldn’t help it! Squirrels, birds, and insects gathered around him.

“Hey, guys.”

He knew the animals couldn’t understand him nor could he with them, but it felt comforting to know they wouldn’t be able to scrutinize him for stuff out of his control.

No. Their only thoughts were on food, surviving, and caring for their young.

He was even more delighted when a stray cat and fox had managed to find their way over to him. The two were curled up on his lap. He happily took pleasure in petting them.

Making sure to snuff out his cigarette.

He didn’t want them to inhale his secondhand smoke. Even pocketed his cigarette so none of the animals would accidentally swallow it.

He grinned, taking a few pictures of the creatures. Now, this was more like it! No interaction with other mob families and no pressure of social etiquette. Just him and the animals.

Just as he liked it. 

Zestial had been searching for Arackniss when he spotted him in the gardens, surrounded by a small menagerie of animals. The sight was almost amusing—Hell’s heir to a powerful crime family sitting cross-legged beneath a tree, absently petting a fox and a stray cat curled in his lap. Birds flitted around him, some perching on low branches, while squirrels scurried closer, emboldened by his presence.

Zestial remained quiet for a moment, simply watching. There was a softness in Arackniss’s expression, a rare moment of peace amidst the storm of politics and expectations.

A stark contrast to the sharp-eyed mobster he had been inside.

“Thou dost prefer the company of beasts to men.”

Arackniss jolted slightly at the voice, but upon realizing who it was, he relaxed, letting out a slow sigh. 

“Not a hard choice, really,” he muttered, scratching behind the fox’s ear. “They don’t expect nothin’ from me. They don’t talk behind my back or make demands."

Zestial hummed, stepping forward. The animals, sensing his presence, cast wary glances but did not immediately scatter.

“Thy affection for creatures is admirable,” the Overlord observed, folding his arms. “It speaks to a gentler nature than thou oft let others perceive.”

Arackniss scoffed, though there was no real bite to it. 

“Yeah, well… It don’t matter much in this kinda world.” He gestured vaguely. “Kindness gets ya eaten alive. Better to keep things locked up.”

Zestial tilted his head slightly. 

“Yet, even in solitude, thou doth seek warmth.”

Arackniss frowned, glancing down at the sleeping cat in his lap. 

“What’s your point?”

The Overlord said nothing for a moment, then sighed through his nose. 

“Only that perhaps thou shouldst not deny thyself such moments, fleeting though they may be.”

Arackniss gave a dry chuckle. 

“Yeah, well… moments like these don’t last long.” He carefully lifted the cat off his lap, letting it settle onto the grass. The fox stirred, stretching before trotting off into the bushes.

Zestial took the unspoken signal and extended a hand.

“Come. I suspect thou hast had thy fill of social obligations.”

Arackniss smirked slightly before taking the offered hand, letting Zestial pull him to his feet.

“You got no idea.” He dusted himself off, glancing back at the animals, then exhaled. “Let’s get outta here.”

Zestial nodded, and without another word, the two departed from the gardens, leaving the grandiose party behind. With the overlord’s spiders dispersed, hopefully they’ll learn soon if the Winter’s were the mole or another family.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Meeting the Hoard (Part 1)

Since the party, Zestial had continued checking in on his spiders that he had let loose at the party. He noted that the Santiagos would occasionally stop at a little cafe in the Border Zone between the Mafia District and the Entertainment District. The very same one that Arackniss frequents. 

Strange, as it was out of the way from the office, but still he went. 

The food must be good if it was worth trekking to every morning. Curious, he decided to swing over. 

Hopefully, the employees there can give him some insight on the little black demon that has piqued his interest. However, he didn't exactly know which one was the cafe of Arackniss’s choice. 

He was primarily a tea drinker. 

Coffee didn't really do anything for him. He didn't like the bitter taste. 

There were seven cafes located in the section. 

The first four were a bust; no sign of Arackniss. Zestial stepped out of the fifth café, exhaling through his nose. Another miss. The scent of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries clung to the air, but he paid little attention to the offerings. His focus was singular—finding the establishment that the elusive Ragno heir frequented.

Two more to go.

Adjusting his coat, he continued his search, his sharp gaze sweeping over the streets of the Border Zone. The district was neither as polished as the Entertainment District nor as shadowed as the Mafia District, existing in a strange in-between. A place where both worlds brushed shoulders without fully merging.

ICup.

Peculiar name. 

Stepping inside, he was greeted by the quiet hum of conversation, the soft clatter of porcelain, and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. It was a modest establishment, filled with a mix of patrons—workers grabbing their morning fix, couples lingering over breakfast, and a few solitary figures absorbed in newspapers or their own thoughts. Zestial’s gaze swept the room. 

Until he saw the employees. 

Succubuses and incubuses dressed in very provocative outfits. If it wasn't for their aprons and their very tiny scraps of fabric they dared call clothes, he was sure they'd be naked! 

….No sign of Arackniss.

Not that he would blame the fellow. 

Disgusting place. At least the next shop was literally across the street. 

He made his way over. 

Death After Coffee. 

Charming name. He quite liked it. He slunk in, gazing around the place. 

It was the very opposite of the last cafe. 

This one was very gothic. With deep purple walls, black wooden floors, tables, and chairs. And various demonic and occult trinkets. Different signs hung on the walls.

No sex! 

Sex banned!! 

No flirting with the owner!!

How strange… But considering where he was earlier, the owner probably didn't want their customers to assume they were that perverse establishment across the street. He glanced around. To his left was a moderate fireplace with more comfortable chairs and a small table. 

Laying on an oval-shaped purple rug in front of said fireplace was a winged black cat. It appeared to be napping. 

“Welcome! May Darkness greet thee in Death After Coffee!” 

He turned his attention to the counter….

Oh damn. 

It was a very long line. Not to mention the place was packed. Not only with fellow punks and goths, but many other demons of all walks of life. 

Imps, Hellhounds, Sinners, all of them in line as a… robo-fizz? Was at the counter. 

Oh…

He didn't expect such a… controversial contraption to be in such a place. 

But from the looks of it, the… love doll was only taking orders from the register. Huh. Didn't look like a traditional one either. Instead of a jester theme, it has ears like a bat. With light green see-through material hanging from its arms like a bat’s wings. 

He glanced over the line. 

Was Arackniss…? 

He was! 

Huzzah! He found the gent! 

Oh drat. He was near the front. He thought about saddling up with him, but that would be rude to the other customers. 

Maybe he should step to the side…? 

Nope. 

Several more customers had come behind him and were now waiting in line apparently thinking he was, too. 

“Part the line!” 

The Overlord blinked in confusion. 

Only to see four people step to the side to let an imp through. 

Wait…

Upon closer inspection, he noticed that she was wearing a pair of skates. 

She skidded to a stop at a nearby table, dropping off their drinks. Imp… no. She had wings… nope. A wing. The other was a shredded nub. Her other wing was an unhealthy dark blue. 

She must be a hybrid. 

Half imp, half succubus. 

An impubus.

Her left horn was broken. Her tail was scarred in multiple spots, with the tip of her tail looking like someone had attempted to rip it in half like a piece of paper. 

Her face was almost completely scarred white. 

She had long brown hair pulled in a ponytail, with a long side bang that would partially cover her left eye. 

She wore a dark purple sweater and black pants. 

“Occult Omen, A Ghost’s Toasts, and a Doomeggedon. Once again, you have signed the waiver stating that should you suffer any health complications or death, we are not liable as we have warned you of the consequences.” 

Waiver?

She sold coffee that needed a waiver?

“Yea, yea.” The customer, some pencil Sinner, waved her off. “So you put in a couple of extra shots of espresso. I’ll be fine.” 

The employee hummed.

“Your death wish.” 

She skated off, continuing to pass out drinks or disappear into the back. 

“Buttons!” She yelled at the robo, taking note of how frazzled he was starting to look, “Switch me!” 

In synchronized movement, Buttons the robot and the imp swapped places. Now, she was running the register as he made the coffee. 

“Thank you, Micole!” 

Were… were they the only two employees here??

Three more customers were ahead of Arackniss.

….and at least ten between them. Though maybe once Arackniss starts to head out the door, he can slip out of the door to meet him?

Yes.

Yes, that’ll do…

“Next!”

The next customer, some greasy fish demon, probably from the Envy Ring based on the eyes, slid up to the counter. He flashed her a smile.

“Hey cutie~, I’m friends with the owner. She told me I can have my coffee for fr-”

The imp immediately pulled out a knife, twirling it in between her fingers before slamming it down into his hand. Everyone in the line winced.

“Ow! Bitch! I’ll tell the owner to get you fired!”

She gave him a sharp smile.

“Oh, sure. Give me one moment to go get her.” She turned her back towards him, then did a quick spin around, clapping her hands together once she faced him. “Hello! I’m the owner of the establishment. I don’t know who the fuck you are. Either tell me your order or get the fuck out before I proceed to cut out your tongue for attempting that bullshit in my building!”

He stared at her, then scoffed.

“Ain’t no way a bitch like you owns this place!”

Click.

A gun was placed against the back of his head.

“I suggest,” Arackniss drawled. “That you give the owner her respect after trying to lie to get some free coffee. So you either buy a damn coffee or I’ll put a bullet in your brain right here and now. We ain’t strangers to havin’ blood splattered on the walls in this establishment on behalf of our dear cafe owner. Right, Micole?”

Micole smirked, twisting the knife further into the other hellborn’s hand.

“There’s a reason my blood muffins are called blood muffins.”  

The fish demon didn’t argue after that, probably due to the knife still in his hand and the gun still aimed at his skull.

He grumbled something unintelligible, then hissed as Micole yanked the knife out, wiped it on his shirt, and leaned on the counter like she hadn’t just threatened to gut someone.

“Next!” she chirped cheerfully.

Zestial watched the scene with a neutral expression, but inside, he was amused. So this is the kind of establishment Arackniss prefers. Oddly comforting. Rough around the edges, no tolerance for bullshit. It made sense.

The line thinned. Arackniss was now only one customer away from ordering.

Zestial casually glided to a nearby booth like he had no real purpose in mind—just stretching his legs.

Micole caught sight of him and gave him a quick once-over, eyes briefly lingering on the skulls embedded in his jacket trim. Her eyes appeared to shine in excitement, but she said nothing.

Arackniss stepped up to the counter and gave a small nod.

“Usual, Mimi.”

Micole gave him a mock salute.

“A Brooding Bumblebee, coming up!” She turned to the back as she rang up his order. “Buttons! Coffee Lover Brooding Bumblebee! Breakfast on the go?”

He hummed.

“Go ahead and toss a blood muffin on there too.”

“Got it! Blood Muffin, too, Buttons!” 

Brooding Bumblebee? What was that? The Overlord glanced up at the menu. He didn’t see it on the menu board…

Was that only a special offer for Arackniss?

What was a Brooding Bumblebee?

Arackniss stepped to the side to keep speaking with the barista as she took orders.

“So I need a favor.” He told her.

“What kinda favor?”

“A Vulture Queen favor.”

She glanced at him.

“...I’ll see if I can contact her. Target?”

“I’ll text you a pic to give to her.”

“Alright. Is that it?”

“Did you get the invite?”

“Yea, I got it. Already got my outfit picked out for your fancy party. What cake is your family forcing you to try this year?”

“I told Pops to get a carrot cake for my own personal cake.”

“Oh Satan, I hope he does. I love carrot cake.”

“I think you’re the only person I know who does.”

“Fuck what everyone else says, carrot cake is the bomb.”

He chuckled.

“Yeah. I agree.”

“Are they still doing that stupid theme for you?”

“Yep. I swear if you get me a similar on-theme present-”

“Oh, relax, Mr. Richie-Rich. I know better than that. I’ll just get you a pretty dress!”

“You’re not funny.”

“I am, too. You just don’t have a funny bone.” She handed him a giant cup. It looked like one of those… what were they called? Big Mug… Big Gulp…? Big something cups. “Here you go, Niss.”

“Thanks. See you later?”

“Always.”

“Mmmmrow?”

The black cat that was resting in front of the fireplace had made its way over to Arackniss, rubbing against his legs. He smiled, leaning down to pet her.

“Hey, Peppermint. I can’t stay around all day, I gotta head out.”

“Oh, Ace Meet is next week!” She called out to him. “Don’t forget!”

“I’ll be there.”

Ace Meet? What was that?

“Great. I’ll catch ya later.”

“Later.”  

Arackniss was just about to step out the door when a chill swept through the front of the café. Not from the wind. From presence. A tall, sharply dressed figure stood just a few paces from the entrance, partially cloaked in the shifting shadows cast by the café’s dim lighting. His attire was immaculate—dark, fitted, almost regal—and his eyes gleamed with cold amusement.

“Thou always doth choose the most curious of haunts, Arackniss,” Zestial said smoothly, stepping forward. “A den of caffeine, blood, and bitter sarcasm. Fitting.”

Arackniss exhaled slowly through his nose.

“Zestial. Thought I told you not to sneak up on me.”

“Aye,” Zestial replied with a faint bow of his head. “And yet, here I stand.”

Micole, who was wiping down the counter, looked up.

“Oi, spider boy—this one yours?”

Arackniss gave a short nod.

“Unfortunately.”

Zestial smiled politely. “Fear not, miss. I am not here to meddle, merely to speak.”

She made her way over, a book in her hand. Giving the next customer a quick “One moment” as she did.

“Oh I wouldn’t dare assume such a thing, Overlord Zestial.”

He peered down at her curiously.

“Thou knowest of me?”

She nodded, eyes shining.

“Micole Luvgood, owner of this cafe, soothsayer, and….” She held up a copy of what looked like one of his books that he had written many years ago. “A fan of yours! I’ve been a fan of yours since I was five! May I have your penmanship?”

That took him by surprise. For centuries, people had fled or cowered at the sight of him. There were few that had gained his fondness to develop a friendship. But to know he had an admirer?

He had never encountered such a thing!

He gave her a smile.

“But of course.” He took hold of the book and pen. The pen being black with a purple fuzzy spider on top. How appropriate. He started writing on the inside of the book. “To Micole. May thou’s darkest desires reign true.”

He handed the book and pen back to her. She gave a happy squeal, hugging the book close to her chest.

“Thank you! I will cherish this forever! Can I get you a cup of tea on your way out? I don’t usually sell tea very often, but I have a few bags for the customers that do!”

“What does thou have?”

“Witch’s Brew, Bat’s Breath, Zombie Zest,” she started to name off, then along with their flavors. “Any suggestions?”

He hummed.

“Bat’s Breath sounds divine.”

“One Bat’s Breath coming up! How many sugars?”

“Two, with a splash of milk.”

“Got it! On the house!”

Arackniss snorted.

“You don’t let anyone have anything on the house. Not even a Sin.”

She smirked.

“They’re Sins. I don’t give a fuck about them. This is Overlord Zestial. I’d destroy Heaven for him if he wanted it.”

The ancient spider demon let out a laugh.

“Thou art a charming young dame.”

“Thank you! I’ll be right back with your tea in a to-go cup for you. I’m sure you have lots of Overlord stuff you gotta do.” She skated back over to the counter.

“Buttons! Bat’s Breath tea, two sugars, splash of milk!”

Zestial smiled, glancing down at Arackniss.

“Thy’s friend is a kindred soul, I see?”

Arackniss hummed.

“Yep. You just made her year. She’s a big fan of you, Alastor and Fredrick.”

“Tis that so?”

“Yep. So whatcha in this neck of the woods for? Any info?”

“My intel reported the Santiagos were frequents at this location.”

He nodded.

“Yep. Are you wanting to speak with Micole? I’m sure she won’t mind. She’s actually friends with Nicolette’s brother, Bert.”

He gawked at him in surprise.

“Is that so? Is she not thy’s friend?”

The younger demon bobbed his head from side to side.

“I… guess you can call her that. Yea. I’ve known her since she first opened this place. We’ve… got a good… friendship, I guess you can say.”

Zestial didn’t like how he was making sounds like they were…. more.

“Does thou… find her… in exquisite company?”

The mobster stared at him. Unsure what he could mean. Exquisite company? What could….? Oh. Of course. Though that wasn’t too surprising. Even his own family had such thoughts before. He shook his head.

“Nah. Micole doesn’t want a romantic or sexual relationship of any kind. She’s not into that stuff. She gets enough flak from being in the Lust Ring. Everyone assumes she’s like every other hellborn from there, and she’s not. That’s why she’s got all the signs up and why she stabs people. She hates all that perverted shit.”

Oh, good. She was only a friend. Wonderful!

“Dost she have ties to the Underground?”

He made a so-so motion.

“Kinda. It’s more for my family than the others.”

“She’s not in arms with the Santiagos?”

“Nah. Her and Bert are just… friends. She doesn’t really get involved with them either.”

 Zestial hummed, fingers curling thoughtfully behind his back.

“A curious placement for one so removed from corruption… and yet surrounded by it,” he murmured, more to himself than to Arackniss.

Arackniss shrugged, lighting a cigarette with a flick of his clawed thumb. 

“She minds her own. She’s neutral, just runs the café. Folks don’t mess with her much—not after that time she slit a Succubus’ throat for slapping her ass."

Zestial let out a short chuckle. 

“I begin to admire her resolve all the more.”

Micole soon skated back, holding a dark purple to-go cup with a black spider sticker sealing the lid.

“One Bat’s Breath with two sugars and a splash of milk, just like you asked!” she beamed, handing it over carefully like it was holy.

Zestial accepted it with a light bow of his head. 

“Thou hast my gratitude, Lady Luvgood.”

“You’re very welcome!” she said with a bright smile. “Hope your errands go smoothly and spooky!”

He gave a small, amused nod at her choice of words before turning back toward Arackniss.

“Now, as to matters more grave. The Santiagos—hast thou seen them recently? Or any dealings of note worth sharing?”

Arackniss took a slow drag before answering. 

“They came by two days ago. Nicolette’s trying to get more control in this district. Probably prepping for some kind of movement.”

Zestial’s gaze sharpened. 

“War?”

“Not yet. But there’s tension. She’s got new recruits. Young, dumb, think they’re invincible. You know the type.”

“Aye,” Zestial said grimly. “The sort who march to death with pride in their eyes and folly in their hearts.”

Arackniss flicked ash onto the tray beside him. 

“Exactly. I’ve kept my nose out of it. But I can get you more info if you need.”

He blinked at him. 

“Thou?” 

The Mafia arachnid nodded. 

“Micole's friend group, the Caffiends we call them in these parts, have two idiots that's been entwined with the Santiagos for decades.” 

“Oh?”

A curt nod. 

“Stephen Hanover and Paint. They're the local conmen in the area. Stephen’s got eyes for Nicolette, and Bert has eyes on Paint. They're regulars in here.”

“What dost the gents look like?”

“Stephen’s a gator sinner. Typically wears a brown suit and small glasses. Paint’s a pangolin sinner. Bigger glasses and wears a blue hoodie. You can’t miss them. If you stick around long enough, they should show eventually.”

He nodded. They were definitely someone they wanted to speak to. 

“I thank you for thy knowledge in this vicinity. I shall inquire the lass. Good day, Arackniss.” 

The tiny demon tipped his hat. 

“I’ll see you around.” 

Once Arackniss was out the door, Zestial swiftly made his way back over to Micole. Making sure to stand to the side so he wasn't interfering with the line. 

“Prithee, Lady Luvgood. May I ask thou a question?” 

She glanced over at him, smiling. 

“Sure.” 

“How dost one get an invitation to the Ragno Heir’s birthday court?”

Arackniss stepped through the heavy iron gates of the Ragno estate, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the courtyard. The air was thick with the faint scent of old leather and burnt cigar smoke — a signature of his father, Henroin. The grand house stood imposing, its red brick walls scarred with decades of history, much like the family itself.

Inside, the low murmur of voices and occasional bursts of laughter greeted him. The house always hummed with activity, especially when Angel and Molly were around. The twins were a whirlwind of energy, as inseparable as they were mischievous.

Angel was sprawled on the worn leather couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table, lazily flicking a lighter. Molly sat beside him, legs crossed, her sharp eyes darting around as if calculating the trajectory of an invisible dart she was about to throw.

When she was like this, that meant she wanted something from him.

“What do you want, Molly?”

“Your birthday is coming up.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“We need the guest list.”

“Family only and Micole. Like always.”

“No one else?”

“No.”

“You need more friends.”

“I don’t need friends.”

“You do too. All you do is work.”

“And I like it that way.” 

She let out a sigh. 

“Plus ones?” 

“I'm guessin’ that's for you and Tony?”

“....maybe?” 

“Fine.” 

She grinned, giving a tiny fist pump. 

“Hell yeah!”

Arackniss sighed. He just wanted to get it over with and not deal with Molly and Angel’s pestering.

“I guess… maybe Zestial.”

“Oh really? Why him?”

“He’s helpin’ us wit’ the mole. As much as I hate ta suspect family…. ya never know.”

She nodded in understanding. In a business like theirs, blood isn’t as thick as water, like many would like to claim. Even family can be consumed by greed, jealousy, and ambition to backstab those they claim to love. It's hard when you have to kill someone who is family, or like family. But in such relations, you have to learn to put those personal feelings on the back burner.

The business was everything, and family was second. Angel finally looked up from his lighter, flicking it shut with a click and tossing it onto the coffee table with a smirk. 

“Look at you, lettin’ an Overlord into the party. Nissy’s growin’ up.”

Arackniss scowled. 

“Don’t call me that.”

Angel chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. 

“C’mon, he’s classy, mysterious, kinda spooky. You could do worse.”

“I ain’t gay, like you are.”

“Wouldn’t kill you try and get your dick wet every once in a while.” 

Molly leaned over, grinning. 

“Zestial seems to like you.”

Arackniss rolled his eyes.

 “He likes information, not me.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied, unconvinced. “Well, regardless, we’ll make sure he’s on the list.”

“Just don’t make a thing out of it,” he muttered, sinking into the armchair opposite them. “I don’t want the party turning into some matchmaking circus.”

Angel gave a mock gasp.

“Us? Start drama at a birthday party? Never.”

“You tried to spike the punch last year,” Arackniss muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Angel shrugged.

“What’s a Ragno birthday without a little chaos?”

Molly laughed.

“That wasn’t even the bad part. Uncle Nico’s band showed up an hour early and scared off half the caterers.”

“Pretty sure the cello player was drunk,” Angel added.

“Pretty sure?” Arackniss snorted. “She fell into the cake.”

All three of them paused before laughing—quiet, knowing laughter only shared between siblings who’d seen too much and lived through worse.

Molly leaned back, smiling.

“Still. I’m glad you’re letting us throw something. It means a lot.”

Arackniss looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment.

“…I don’t care about birthdays,” he said quietly. “But I know you do.”

She blinked, then softened. “Well, yeah. I do. It’s an excuse to celebrate you.”

“You do realize I hate attention, right?”

“Too bad. You’re gettin’ some.”

Angel smirked.

“I already got the sparklers. The loud ones.”

“I will set you on fire,” Arackniss threatened flatly.

His brother gave a cheeky  grin as he posed.

“I’ll look fabulous!"

Despite himself, a small smile tugged at the corners of Arackniss’s mouth. He didn’t fight it. For all their teasing and torment, the twins grounded him. They were loud and chaotic and so very much… but they never asked him to change. They didn’t treat his quietness like a flaw or his discomfort like a burden. They simply existed with him—beside him—and that was enough. He sighed and leaned back in the chair.

“Just don’t let bisnonno start a speech. I swear, if he gets drunk and tells that ‘when your father was your age’ story again—”

“I’ll unplug the mic myself,” Molly promised.

Angel raised his hand.

“Seconded.”

A door creaked somewhere down the hall, followed by heavy footsteps and a familiar grumble.

“Speak of the devil,” Arackniss muttered, glancing toward the hallway.

“You kids better not be plotting anything out there,” came the deep, gruff voice of Henroin Ragno, their father.

“Define plotting!” Angel shouted back.

There was a pause.

“I don’t like that answer,” Henroin grunted, retreating back into his office.

Molly stifled a laugh behind her hand. Arackniss shook his head with a quiet chuckle. In this house, dysfunction was a given. But at least, for now, it was their kind of dysfunction. And that made it bearable.

A poke to his side brought his attention to his sister.

“You know we also gotta tend ta yer hair.”

He let out a groan.

“I hate doing anything with my hair.”

“That’s cuz ya don’t take care of it.” Angel remarked. “Ya ain’t got a hair routine.”

“It takes too long and it hurts to brush.”

“Wouldn’t hurt if ya did it right. Seriously. Night before the party, hair routine.”

“No one is gonna care ‘bout what my hair is gonna look like.”

“It’s still a party,” Molly added. “You should at least let us try.”

The eldest Ragno sibling let out a sigh.

“Fine. But don’t blame me if a brush breaks.”

Zestial made sure that he got Arackniss a good present; he wanted to surprise the spider boy. He wasn’t sure how he got an invitation, but he wasn’t looking to make enemies with Henroin. He headed towards the entrance of the venue. After showing his invitation to the front security, he continued on inside. There were already some Ragno family members present for the party, as to be expected. No doubt more guests would be arriving soon. They looked for where to leave their gifts and spotted a decorative table with a ‘Gifts’ sign.

Zestial made sure to carefully place his gift on the table. Arackniss was going to love it! He was sure of it! Speaking of Arackniss, was he there already? Where, oh where…? Damn, his family really went out with the frog theme. Oh, there he-!

But Zestial wasn’t sure whether to feel bad for the guy or laugh.

It looked to be a main table set-up for Arackniss. Like a mini stage that imitated a pond with plastic lily pads and water lilies. And behind it was a small throne on a display stand. With Arackniss sitting there, dressed up in his nice suit and a small frog-prince crown on his head. 

The poor guy didn’t look miserable.

He’ll go up and give his greetings to the man of the hour.

As for Arackniss, he tuned out pretty much anything around him, other than an acknowledgment of guests coming up to him. Just family so far, though. So it wasn’t too important. It was the non-related guests he needed to pay more attention to. Mostly out of appreciation for them making the time to show. Not that it really mattered to him. He sighed. To make it worse, it was just barely the start of a long five hours...

He happened to finally pay attention to whatever was in front of him. 

And spotted Zestial coming his way.

His breath hitched at the sight. 

Holy shit…

The ancient Overlord was wearing a medieval black suit with silver trim and red embroidery. Though he still wore his patched-up top hat. Didn’t quite fit with his look… Was the hat important to him? 

“I knew not that on this night of yore, there would be royalty come to visit,” Zestial spoke, trying not to make a joke.

“If you were anyone else, I’d shoot ya in the face.”

“Miserable on thy birthday, thou art? I did think thou wouldst cherish it.”

“Not when your family forces the same stupid frog theme party over and over every four years.”

“Then why doth it stand as the theme?”

“Because my family makes the theme every four years. It’s annoying as hell.”

“Is there a cause for such a thing?”

“Leaplings.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s what we leap year babies are called. Leaplings. Like leaping frogs?” Arackniss let out a groan as he slumped in his seat. “I hate frogs.”

Zestial watched Arackniss interact with the guests. He was just polite to them, and they left. Though some cracked annoying frog jokes with Arackniss pretended not to be annoyed by. But even Zestial could tell that Arackniss hated them.

The way his eyes narrow in disgust.

The way his lip subtly curled in a hidden sneer.

How peculiar….

“There’s the birthday boy!”

Zestial peered over to see a pair of similar-looking spiders coming towards Arackniss. Both were white and pink. The male, he knew as the infamous Porn Star, Angel Dust. A demon caught under that perverse moth, Valentino. The other was a female variant of him. A sister?

“Molly. Anthony.”

Anthony? Huh. That made sense. No doubt the sexual spider had changed his name when he arrived in Hell. Not many kept their human names. Often, picking a new path to form a new life to create in Hell. He, too, had done the same many moons ago.

“You look so dashing.” Molly grinned. “Aren’t you glad I helped you pick your suit?”

“Yeah, green looks good,” Angel commented. “Really goes well with your swamp-ass attitude.”

“Fuck you, Tony.”

“Love ya too~”

Were… were they complimenting or insulting each other?

It sounded like a backhanded compliment…

Arackniss huffed.

“You two can go do whatever shit you plan on doing. I saw your ugly mugs. I don’t wanna hear any jokes. I’m sick of hearing fucking frog jokes.”

“Oh come on,” Angel smirked. “You look like you’re just leaping with joy at the sight of us.”

If a glare could kill, Zestial was certain the younger arachnid would be double dead by now.

“You’re lucky Pops confiscated my gun for the night so I couldn’t shoot any of ya in the damn face tonight.”

“Damn. I bet you’re just hopping mad right now, ain’t ya?”

He received a kick to the leg.

“Ow!”

“Nicky!”

“Shut up. He had it coming. Now get. Both of you.”

The Porn Star sibling held up his hands.

“Alright, we’re goin’. Seesh. C’mon Molls. Let the little toad stew in his swamp.”

The mobster looked ready to tackle his brother and possibly strangle him. Instead, his grip tightened on the arms of his mini-throne. His claws are digging into the wood. He was over this shitass party already.

He wanted to go home already. Just go home, hide in his room, and hope that everyone in his family would leave him the fuck alone!

It was just gonna be another shitty party, with a bunch of shitty gifts, along with a shitty cake that he wouldn’t want to top it all off on this shitty birthday!

He glanced over to notice that Zestial was still there.

“Ya can go and mingle. I’m stuck here until all the guests arrive.”

“Oh? Why art that?”

“Tradition.”

He tilted his head. Tradition? He was ready to probe for more information, but a wave of his hand stopped him.

“Yeah. Go… mingle. I’m sure you’ll find something much more interesting than watchin’ me greet guests for the next hour or so. There’s food, games, ‘nd drinks. Enjoy yerself.” 

Zestial unwillingly left Arackniss’s side and left to mingle with the guests. Though some of them were terrified of Zestial and quickly moved away. Zestial had gotten used to demons running from him in terror. He turned his attention to see a plump pink female spider make her way over. Was this his mother? Granted, her pink coloring was much darker compared to Angel’s more pastel pink coloring.

“So you’re Overlord Zestial. I’m Arackniss’s aunt, Marie,” the woman spoke.

Okay, not mom. An aunt.

“Tis a pleasure to meet you, Lady Marie,” Zestial said, respectfully.

“Ohhhh…. Quite the gentlemen. Anthony could learn a thing or two from you. Enjoy the party!" 

She walked away.

Zestial looked around and saw that it was mostly family members of the Ragno family, including Henroin himself. Plus, he did see a weasel sinner lurking about. Seems Arackniss knows him.

Though he did notice that most of the Ragno’s including Arackniss and Henroin, had darker colors than some of the other family members. One of the lighter spiders approached him, all white male with bright green eyes. Four arms and four legs. He was wearing a blue suit.

“So you're the Overlord that scared my brother-in-law,” the spider chuckled, “About time too.”

In-law? Zestial figured out that this guy was a relative, possibly from the mother's side of the family. “Thou art…”

“Right. Right. I’m Arackniss’s Zio Philip Lane. His mother’s brother.” Philip stated, shaking the overlord’s hand.

“Thou art most kind to greet me so warmly,” Zestial replied, inclining his head slightly as he clasped Philip’s hand. “Hath thy kin oft been troubled by mine presence?”

Philip gave a booming laugh, his green eyes gleaming. “Troubled? Please. You put the fear of Hell into Henroin without even trying. You might be my favorite guest already.”

Zestial’s brow quirked at that. “Thy words doth amuse me. ‘Tis rare I am given such a compliment.”

Philip leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as though conspiring. “You’ll find this family split in two—some dark, some light, and both equally stubborn. Don’t let the squabbling fool you, though. When it matters, we stick together.”

Zestial hummed thoughtfully, his gaze drifting back toward the small throne where Arackniss sat rigid and unmoving, crown tilted ever so slightly askew. The boy wore his discomfort like a second skin, even if he strove to mask it.

“A curious clan indeed,” Zestial murmured. “Yet methinks thy nephew suffers the gaiety of this day with clenched teeth.”

Philip chuckled, following his gaze. 

“That’s Nissy for you. He never did like being the center of attention. Molly and Angel try to drag him into the chaos, but he’s always been quieter. Thinks too much, that one. Reminds me of his mother.”

The Overlord’s eyes sharpened slightly. 

“And his mother… she is here in hell as well?”

Philip’s smile faltered for the briefest second before he shook his head. 

“Gaia went up. But she died when Anthony, Molly, and Arackniss were still children. Her death… It's a sensitive topic for them. For Henroin.”

“How so?”

“She was the glue that held their little family together. And when she passed, everything went to shit for them. Arackniss did his best to fill her role, but he wasn't his mother. He took on a very big role at a very young age."

That was… interesting to hear.

“So doth thou mean being separated by dark and light?”

“Oh, we Lanes, that’s our last name on Arackniss’s mom side, are on the lighter color spectrum. We’re more of the pastel coloring. Whites, light pinks, light greens, and such. While the Ragnos are on the darker spectrum. Black, gray, dark orange, for example. You can easily tell who is from what family just by going by our colors.”

“I see…”

He glanced around the party.

“So what tis court like among the Ragno Clan?”

“Oh it’s a lot more relaxed and rowdy. We ain’t gotta put up an appearance like we do with the other Mafia families. Just a fair warning, we can get pretty loud.” 

“Oh?” 

“And don't be alarmed if a fist fight breaks out either. Happens all the time.” 

How… concerning.

But then again, the Ragnos were of a different culture and time. He glanced over at where Arackniss was. He took notice that he was finally able to move from his seat. Oh good! Maybe he could work on trying to converse with the Ragno heir in a bit.

But he had another goal to do at the party.

He had to see if he could find anyone inside the family who wished ill on the Ragnos.

From what he could tell, Philip didn’t seem to be that kind of man. So onto the next relative.

“I appreciate thy’s warning. Pray tell, can thou introduce me to thy other relatives?”

“Oh, sure thing.” 

Philip took Zestial to meet the rest of his side of the family before he met Henroin’s family. They finally came up to the smoke room. Sure enough, many Ragnos were clamoring in chairs, cheering and shouting at a TV that was playing a futbol game. Some were even sitting on the arms of the chairs or on the ground. a ghostly white spider with gray stripes with vibrant magenta eyes, much like Arackniss’s. He was a bit on the hefty side. Not as stocky as Henroin, but he had some weight on him. He was sitting in a large recliner. He was Arackniss’s nonno Mordecai.

Philip tapped him on the shoulder to pull his attention away from the game. Mordecai took one look at his son. He then took notice of Zestial and almost had a heart attack.

“Gah!! I think I was just scared into my second grave!”

“This is Zestial.” Philip answered, “Arackniss invited him. He’s a friend.”

“You’re kidding, right? Nicolas? My grandson? The same kid who stays cooped up in his office. Made friends with the scariest Overlord here?”

Zestial looked confused at the name that Mordecai mentioned.

“Nicolas?”

“Oh, right. Arackniss never told you. That’s his living name. Lots of us still call each other by our old names.” Philip stated. “He was named after Henroin’s best friend.” 

“Ah…” Zestial murmured, crimson eyes flickering with recognition. “So Nicolas was the name bestowed upon him at birth. A fairer sound than the sharpness of ‘Arackniss.’”

Mordecai leaned back in his chair, still eyeing Zestial like a man unsure whether to laugh or run.

“Fairer, maybe. But don’t let the boy hear you call him that unless you’re family. He hates it. The only one who could get away with callin’ him Nicolas was his nonna Belladonna. Or his father.”

Philip nodded in agreement.

“That name’s sacred to him. Best to leave it be, unless he offers it himself.”

“Verily,” Zestial inclined his head. “I shall not utter it, lest I trespass upon his wound.”

Mordecai grunted approvingly.

“Smart Overlord. Guess you’ve got some manners after all. Don’t see that much in your lot.”

Zestial allowed a faint smile to ghost across his lips, though it faded quickly as his attention turned to the cheering crowd of spiders hollering at the glowing box. The energy in the room was nothing short of chaotic, a cacophony of voices overlapping, smoke curling thick in the air.

“Such clamor…” Zestial muttered under his breath. “Doth thy clan find merriment in thunderous uproar?”

Mordecai barked a laugh, slapping one of his knees.

“Boy, this is quiet for us. Wait ‘til someone loses a bet. Then you’ll see bottles fly.”

As if summoned by his words, a roar went up from the crowd when the futbol team on the screen scored. Several of the younger Ragnos leapt from their chairs, shouting, fists pumping in the air. One even threw a cushion that narrowly missed Mordecai’s head. The old spider snarled.

“HEY! Watch it, you little punks! You wanna make me spill my drink?”

There was a chorus of “sorry,” but none of them seemed to really mean it. The elder spider rolled his eyes, then turned his attention back to the Overlord.

“Kids. No respect for their elders these days.”

“Aye. The younger generations are, shall we say… bolder than I recall.”

“Yeah… It seems like each new generation that comes in, they get mouthier and more ambitious than the last bunch.”

He nodded in agreement.

“You play games, Zestial? The family has all kinds of games, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy them. Like Scopa! Everyone likes scopa!”

Mordecia wrapped an arm around him, leading him over to the many tables of other relatives that were playing card games. Now Zestial was no stranger to games. He recalled having a few toys in his childhood. Balls, a spinning top, and a kite. As he got older, he remembered card games being enjoyed by his fellow men.

“Oh?”

“Oh yeah! I’m sure you had card games back then, right? I assume you’re from… England, right?”

“Aye.”

“I thought so! You seemed like a Brit. Anyways, scopa ain’t like your British card games. Whatever you call them.  But I’m sure you’ll like this!”

The gray spider was a very… chatty man. He reminded him much like Alastor. Wary at first, but always quite the chatterbox once you got him going. He quite likes this man. He’ll definitely be keeping him in close arms.  Zestial allowed himself to be guided, though his acid green eyes scanned the crowd with their usual calculating sharpness. Mordecai’s jovial energy was almost disarming, yet he kept his guard — ever watchful, ever weighing the temper of those around him.

The elder spider dragged up a chair for him.

“Here, sit! We’ll show you how it’s done. Scopa’s simple once you get the hang of it. And if you don’t, well, we’ll yell at ya until you do.”

A few of the younger spiders at the table laughed, shuffling a well-worn deck. Zestial eased into the seat, his tall frame folding with dignified stiffness. He studied the cards as they were dealt, the painted symbols and suits slightly unfamiliar, though not entirely foreign.

“I see,” he murmured, turning a card in his hand with careful fingers. “A game of wit and of numbers. ‘Tis not unlike Primero, a play of mine age.”

Mordecai leaned back, puffing on his cigar.

“Primero, huh? Never heard of it. Must be one of those old-timey games. Probably played it with Shakespeare or somethin’, eh?”

Zestial’s lip twitched, just shy of a smile.

“Nay, the Bard I knew not. Yet methinks he would have fared poorly at the table.”

That earned a hearty laugh from Mordecai and a few curious looks from the younger players.

The game began, voices rising as cards were laid down, boasts thrown across the table, accusations of cheating already flying. Zestial, to his quiet surprise, found the rhythm of the game swift enough. His hand was steady, his mind sharp, and though he did not grasp every nuance, he played with deliberate calculation. When he swept the table in a round, the room erupted in groans and jeers.

“WHAT?!” one spider, dark orange, with different colored eyes and wild hair, shouted. “The new guy? First game? No way!”

Mordecai slammed the table, laughing so hard his cigar nearly fell from his mouth. “You hear that?! The Overlord just whooped your asses! Hah! What’s the matter, boys? Afraid of a little competition?”

Zestial placed his cards down neatly, inclining his head as though in apology. “Fortune doth favor me this night. Fear not — thy skill surpasseth mine in merriment.”

But the competitive gleam in his eye suggested otherwise.

“Alright, alright, hotshot. Don’t get too cocky,” another spider, dark gray with green eyes and wearing a green cap and a scarf, muttered, reshuffling the deck. “Let’s see you do it again.”

Zestial gave a small smile. This… was more entertaining than he thought. Though as the came continued, his mind couldn’t help but wander back to the main member that this party was for. Hoping to gather some insight, he started a conversation.

“Pray tell, what can thou tell about the Ragno Heir, Arackniss?”

The two younger arachnids that spoke earlier glanced at each other than him.

“What kinda dirt are you lookin’ for?” The orange spider asked.

“Any.”

The cap-wearing spider leaned against his chair.

“Nissy’s an oddball. But a lot of Rangos have oddities, so that’s not too surprising.”

“Oddities?”

Mordecia nodded.

“Oh yes. A lot of the Rangos have them. Take Arackniss, for example, he doesn’t like loud noises, he’s a micro-manager, and he’s very routine-oriented.”

“He also doesn’t like certain foods or clothing.”

“One of his oddities is that if he gets overwhelmed by his routine changing, he screams.”

How… peculiar.

“Oh yeah, and he’s a real neat-freak, too.”

Huh. This is good information on how he can get closer to the small spider.

“I see.” 

Zestial leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful as he turned their words over in his mind. Peculiar, indeed. Such traits could be weaknesses, but they were also windows into one’s soul, small truths that revealed the deeper workings of character. Arackniss, the Ragno Heir… if these quirks were true, then the spider was far more delicate than his hardened exterior would suggest.

The orange spider, clearly eager to elaborate, continued.

“He’s the type who’ll line up his stuff just so. Move one thing, just one thing, and he’ll notice. He gets this twitch in his eye, like he’s gonna pop a vein.”

The cap-wearing one smirked.

“Yeah. Don’t even get me started on food. Nissy won’t eat stuff if the texture’s wrong. Too mushy, too slimy, too crunchy—forget it. He’ll turn his nose up and storm off like a diva. Kinda funny, actually.”

Mordecia chuckled warmly, swirling the cards in his hands before dealing them again.

“And clothing, too. He only likes certain fabrics, certain fits. Tailored or custom, mostly. Anything itchy or too tight? He’ll fuss ‘til the end of days.”

Zestial’s brows arched slightly.

“A creature most fastidious.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Mordecia replied with a grin. “But you know, it ain’t all bad. He’s sharp, keeps things organized. The kind who’ll catch details the rest of us miss. Handy in a pinch, really.”

The other spider shrugged.

“Sure, but when things go off track? Boom. Screaming fit. Like a kettle whistlin’. He don’t like change unless he’s the one makin’ it."

The Overlord folded his hands, nodding slowly. These were not mere “oddities”—they were the makings of a rigid, careful soul. Structure was a shield, and disruption its enemy. Perhaps Arackniss clung to such control because so much else had been wrested from him in life. That thought struck Zestial more deeply than he anticipated.

He glanced at the other spiders.

“Pardon me, but I hath not learned thy’s names.”

“In the Underground, they call me Charge.” The orange spider replied. “To the family, it’s Vinny.

“Caps for me.” The gray spider spoke up. “Columbio also for the family. I’m the second-oldest cousin in our generation.”

Zestial raised a brow.

“Oh?”

“Yep. Vincent and Rhea were just born shortly after Niss.”

Vinny snorted.

“Still can’t believe it took Zio Henry and Zia Gaia so long to have him.”

Mordecia shot the younger arachnid a glare.

“It’s not Gaia’s fault she had such a rough change getting pregnant. The main thing is that we’re glad that she managed to carry Nick, Molly, and Anthony at all.” 

That made Zestial curious.

“Arackniss’s moth'r couldn’t receiveth pregnant? How wast yond possible?”

The silence that fell was heavy, the kind that made even the boisterous card table pause mid-play. Zestial, sensing the shift, kept his posture calm, though his eyes flicked from one face to another. Clearly, this subject was wrapped in grief, something spoken of rarely, if at all. Mordecia cleared his throat, his jovial tone subdued.

“Gaia… she had it rough. Doctors told her she wasn’t likely to carry to term. Lost more than a few before Nicholas came along.” His magenta eyes softened with the weight of memory. “When he finally made it, we thought it was a miracle. Even if he came out small and early.”

Vinny leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face.

“Yeah, I was born a few years after him. But from what I heard and remember. Nick was fragile when he was little. Sick a lot, too. No one ever knew if he was gonna make it past a week, then a month, then a year. Zia Gaia and Zio  Henroin fought like hell to keep him alive.”

The cap-wearing spider added quietly.

“And Nicholas… he clung to her. Like he knew, even as a baby, that she was the reason he was still breathing.”

Zestial tilted his head, intrigued, though he kept his voice measured.

“So the heir is… a child wrought from peril. A flame nurtured in the wind.”

Mordecia gave a sad chuckle.

“That’s one way to put it. Those two poured everything they had into him. Every second. Every ounce of love. That’s why it hit so damn hard when she passed. Either Nicholas or Henroin wasn’t ready to lose her—none of us were. But for him? It was like losin’ the sun.”

He couldn’t imagine the pain. The thought of someone who poured so much love and hard work into keeping their family together… only to be ripped away years later? How devastating…  He barely remembered his own family. It had been so long. He’ll have to find Arackniss when he is alone.

The party was just beginning, and there was so much to learn about the Ragnos.

As well as the beginning of learning about the spider of his desires.