Never Fully Dressed Without...
Stitches locked the door behind her, pressing her ear against it and waiting for Charlie and Vaggie's footsteps to fade away completely as they left. Only once it was completely silent did she let out a shaky breath and turned, leaning her back against it and sliding down to the floor. The tour of her new room had been short, but gave her enough time to take it in. It was designed simply, with a full-size bed and nightstand with a lamp on one side, very simple and not fancy at all. On the opposite side was a desk and chair, and a short, long dresser with 9 drawers total. A short hall led from the door to this area, and the bathroom door was just around the corner of the hall, with the door facing the bed. It had a shower/tub combination, a small vanity and mirror, and a clean, simple toilet. There was an organization rack over it, with some fresh towels waiting for her.
Charlie had briefly mentioned that she was more than welcome to redecorate or rearrange it as she saw fit, with absolutely no limits, whatever would make her comfortable, before leaving her to settle in. But she couldn't focus on that right now, not with her mind racing, finally alone and somewhere safe enough to really think about what had happened in a matter of less than a day. She had died in one world, found herself reborn as a demon in a familiar yet fictional world, and was now faced with so much uncertainty and danger in every corner. One wrong move could be the end for her, and it disgusted her how much that didn't seem like such a bad idea. Certainly less stress for her, if this time death fucking worked.
But what if it is just worse? I already did this once, well, successfully, at least. Now I am here. What if I just isekai somewhere else? What if it's a million times worse? She paused. What if it's what I deserve?
She started shaking, and she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her legs and burying her head into her knees. It was suddenly so hard to breathe. So hard to think, to live. The walls started to feel like they were crowding in, and as she fell into her panic attack, ears ringing, heart running a marathon, the spiral of dark thoughts taunted her, encouraging her to run. If she was careful, she could easily slip out of the hotel without anyone really noticing. Even if someone did notice, few would think much of it. She was a Sinner in Hell, and simply a guest at the hotel. No one would think twice about her suddenly disappearing. Maybe she could stumble back into the city. Charlie had left a map of the city on her desk, along with information about the hotel. She could find Cannibal Town, and it probably wouldn't be hard to tempt someone into attacking her. It would hurt, as they tore her apart, and ate her alive, but then, it would be over. Maybe she would fade away into nothingness. Or maybe she would respawn, and she could do it all over again, again and again, suffering for an eternity until her sanity broke and she could just hide in her own brain. She could never erase her sins, but maybe it would be enough to punish her, to make her feel... justice.
She shook her head, forcing herself to let go of those dark thoughts. It was a plan, a terrible, horrible plan, but should only be a last resort. She still hadn't really given this hotel a real chance yet. She hadn't even met everyone yet, hadn't given her new environment and situation to really digest. Angel had risked his own safety to bring her, and would probably face Valentino's wrath for it, so it would be incredibly rude and unfair for her to just... throw that away. No, if just for him, she had to hold on, to get a grip and figure out her next move. She just couldn't seem to concentrate on one right now, because her head was throbbing, her lungs were constricted, and her heart was so off beat and fast, it was driving her insane. At least she hadn't put her foot in her mouth too much since getting here, right?
She groaned and smacked her head. She had DEFINITELY slipped up multiple times while talking to Charlie; it had been so hard not to. Charlie was just so kind and warm and talkative, and she found herself way too excited to resist matching her energy. She had been good at covering up her mistakes, and even Vaggie hadn't looked that suspicious. But what if someone else had noticed? What if Alastor...?
"Fuck... I hope no one noticed..." She groaned, hitting her head against her knees in frustration.
"Noticed what, my dear?"
Stitches yelped, startled out of her spiral, staring up at Alastor, who was nonchalantly leaning forward on his cane, smug grin barely hiding his threatening undertones. FUCK! How long had he been standing there? How much had he seen? Why is he here?
"Al-" she started, but quickly remembered they hadn't been introduced, "er, um, alright, what are you doing in my room, sir? Don't you know not to enter a lady's room unannounced?" She felt a bead of sweat roll down her neck. She had forced some indignation into her voice, but even to her own ears, it fell flat, too layered under her own terror. Don't panic, don't panic...
"Ha HA, nice try, my clever vixen." He chuckled at her, each word dripping with insincere compliments, as he jovially tapped her on top of the head with his cane. "But-" his voice dropped lower and his red eyes glowed a little brighter "-your little Freudian slips can't be hidden from me."
FUCK, I am SO about to be murdered... "I-" she began, but he put a finger against her lips, silencing her. He tutted softly, like a mother scolding a petulant child.
"Now, now, my dear," his voice quiet and laced with venom, "I am giving you one chance to come clean, or else..." His face started glitching menacingly. "I will become quite unpleasant."
Stitches swallowed slowly as he removed his finger. He slowly leaned back, both hands on his cane, staring down at her expectantly. She had to play this smart, or he could easily kill her. She wracked her brain, trying to remember details from his character and show scenes. He was crafty, charismatic, and a serial killer, with a flair for showmanship and good manners. He hated men, especially abusive men, and those were his usual victims, as he was often softer and kinder to women. He had an aversion to touch, thought smiles were the most important weapon and abhorred lies. However, he loved making deals and often practiced half-truths and subterfuge himself, meaning that there had to be some leeway in his morals for the same response in others. She just had to be very careful to not push it too far, because what was okay for him to do may not necessarily be okay for her, especially since she was a stranger. Also, threatening him or mentioning his own chains could easily lead to him just lashing out and killing her without hesitation.
She forced a smile onto her face. He raised an eyebrow but stayed silent as she finally found her voice. "W-... What do you want to know?"
He stared at her silently for a moment before he straightened up and walked to the desk chair on the other side of the room, sitting down with a flourish. He motioned for her to come sit on the end of the bed closest to him. She felt like her whole body was jelly, but she eventually managed to stand and wobble to it, sitting precariously on the edge of it, as far away as she dared without making him upset at her blatant disregard for where he told her to sit. Her eyes never left his, terrified to look away, unsure when he would pounce. Because this was Radio Demon Alastor, who was as fickle as he was elegant and as lethal as he was charming. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this on edge, but the delicate nature of the situation had her hyper-aware, pushing the darker thoughts of her spiral from her mind. She straightened her back, and blinked, resolve and determination settling into her like a balm against the desert that was Alastor's gaze.
"Why, everything there is to know about you, my dear!" Alastor laughed cheerily, his staff playing an audience laugh track. "What brings you to the hotel, your thoughts, your motives," he narrowed his eyes, "your fears." He grinned at her, clearly thinking he had won. But she wasn't going to let him intimidate her that easily. She wasn't playing checkers, not with a man like him. No, she was playing chess, and she would not take anything less than a stalemate.
She smiled and leaned back slowly, her eyes never leaving his. "Everything is a lot to ask of a woman, especially when the gentleman asking rudely entered her private chambers." His eye twitched, but otherwise, he maintained his gaze, as though trying to read her soul. Like I would allow that. "However, I suppose I can be forthcoming to your questions, should you offer some form of apology for the slight against my honor." Her heart pounded in her ears, but she refused to let it show on her relaxed features. Come on, take the bait, you smarmy bastard. Or kill me for mouthing off, dealer's choice.
Alastor burst out laughing, his head thrown back and his uncaned hand flying to his forehead. "Oh, what an enigma you are!" he finally chuckled, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "Oh, you are truly entertaining. I would usually remove a limb for attacking my etiquette, but just this once I am going to let it slide." He looked back into her eyes, and then bowed his head, hand over his heart. "I deeply apologize, madam, for my intrusion into your humble quarters. Shan't happen again, I assure you."
She felt her eye twitch. Over the top and absolutely not genuine, but I didn't ask for it to be anything sincere, so that's on me. "Very well, sir. I accept your apology, prodded though it was. I wonder if you would be open to a game? We take turns asking questions, which the other must answer honestly or say 'pass'. We can go until one or both of us says 'stop'."
Alastor narrowed his eyes. "And why should I entertain your wants?" That wasn't a no...
She smiled wider and made a showman flourish with her hands. "Why, for entertainment, my dear! Surely a few rounds of information exchange is a welcome relief from a tedious routine as a hotelier?" He was close to agreeing, she could taste it. "Afterall, you can stop at any time, and if you are displeased, I suppose you could always add me to your riveting broadcasts." Bingo!
He chuckled and leaned forward. "You are truly fascinating, vixen." He leaned back and waved for her to start.
"What is your name and title in Hell?" It was not a probing question, she already knew the answer, but that would cease any more faux paus in that area.
"Alastor, charmed, I'm sure. I am known as the Radio Demon, and am an Overlord here in Hell. I also am the manager and business partner of this fine establishment."
Huh, that was simple. Surprised he didn't gloat...
He leaned forward, voice lowered conspiratorially. "But you already knew all that, seeing as you brought up my broadcasts."
She flinched and swallowed, her bravado slipping a bit before she caught herself. Shit, I didn't even catch it this time! "Your turn for a question," she mumbled.
Alastor grinned. "Why are you here at the hotel?"
"For safety and to have a stable environment until I can figure out what to do with my new life here in Hell." She had said it immediately, truthfully, or at least, as much as she could, anyway. There was no way in Hell (all puns intended) that she was going to admit to the fangirling and revolving thoughts of ending this life.
"Hmm, that I believe is the most honest I have heard you be since your arrival." Alastor pondered for a moment. "Yet, you are holding back, aren't you?"
She grinned. "It wasn't your turn to ask a question, so I get to go twice now." He growled, but it didn't hold much threat. Is he... enjoying this? "My first question is: why did you invade my room? Followed up by the second: are you going to tell anyone else about this conversation?"
Alastor was silent for a while, watching her, probing her soul again with his eyes. It made her skin crawl with anxiety. She was almost wishing he would attack instead by the time he finally answered. "I noticed your inconsistent behavior in the lobby and found it suspicious, so I thought it best to investigate." Half truth, okay. "I have no intention of speaking of this encounter to anyone within these walls." True, but worded so he could talk to someone else. Rosie maybe? Or maybe so he can tell someone as long as they aren't in the hotel? Or my room? Damn, he's playing this too well. No wonder he's so good at being a deal-making Overlord! "My question: How do you know about the Hotel and those who reside within it?" Fuck...
Stitches thought for a minute, too long. She looked down at the floor. "Pass."
"No."
Her eyes snapped back up to his, her exhaustion and fear morphing into irritation. "What do you mean 'no'? that was part of the rules of the game!" Alastor glared back at her, the radio static increasing. But now that she was mad, she didn't care, not even enough to shrink back. Instead, she just crossed her arms in defiance. "I am acting within the agreed-upon bounds of the game, so you have no right-"
Alastor smirked maliciously, his aura growing dangerous. "Oh, but I do." He leaned forward, his form starting to grow and his face glitching. "I never agreed to play the game or follow your little rules. I simply motioned for you to speak, and you assumed I had agreed." Fuck... She felt the terror return. She had fucked up, and now, she had pissed him off. What was she thinking? She had been great at out-smarting people, especially men, in her former life. It's how she had survived, she had been so confident in her skill. But this man, this demon, she had not been prepared for. He was now towering over her, more creature than human now, her senses overcome with terror and the waves of murderous intent pulsing from his being in waves. "Answer the question."
Be smart, be cool, don't blurt out anything weird...
"Isekai!"
... Like that, for example...
Alastor froze, shocked perhaps, and the glitching disappeared, and he shrank back to normal. "Ease-a-what-now?"
She swallowed, her mouth feeling like cotton. "I... I am not from here."
"Naturally, because you died. This is Hell." He scoffed, looking at her like she was daft.
"N-no, I mean, I am not from this... world?... at all. I died in a world where this is just a cartoon... a comic book, and now I am here..." She wanted to pull her eyes away from him. He was looking so deep into her eyes, and she was absolutely terrified now. What if he didn't believe her? Oh god, would it be worse if he DOES?
"Hmm..." he continued to stare at her. "Interesting."
"Wh-what?" she squeaked.
"Interesting," he continued, "because you appear to be telling the truth." His permanent grin had become smaller, calculating, still very terrifying. "Or you are absolutely insane, one or the other. But you certainly are not clever enough to lie this well."
"Gee, thanks..." she mumbled without thinking, slapping a hand over her mouth in fear. But he simply watched her silently, until she slowly dropped her hands in her lap. He continued to scrutinize her, and she eventually hung her head, bracing herself. If he wasn't going to kill me before, he will now.
"If you ARE from another world, and I am just a character in the funny pages, then tell me something about myself that no one here would know about."
Stitches froze, eyes wide. She slowly raised her head to look at him, and met his eyes. Cold, calculating, curious.
"Is... Is this a trap? Surely you wouldn't let me live if I knew something about you that you wouldn't want anyone else to know..." she whispered.
"Hmm, maybe you are more clever than I gave you credit for." He paused. "Fine, I give you my word as a gentleman, I shall not harm you, regardless of what you say. But if you ever tell another soul, I will take you on my radio show and broadcast your screams. Understood?"
Stitches nodded, racking her brain. What could she tell him, that no one else could possibly know? She knew Mimzy had known him in life as well as down here, but she was sure he wasn't counting her, but then again, he was very calculating. There was only one thing that she was sure even Mimzy didn't know about, because that detail would have been before Mimzy and him had ever met in life...
Oh, he is so going to kill me for knowing this...
"Y-your mother was a Creole woman, who was perhaps the only human being you ever cared about. You-" Her words froze in her throat because Alastor was starting to morph back into his demon form, looking more and more terrifying with each word. The air felt ice cold and heavy, the pressure increasing with every millisecond. Before, he had been trying to intimidate her. But now, he fully intended to kill her. She wanted to cower and hide, but she was paralyzed with fear. He was reaching towards her with his shadows. Oh, FUCK, I am going to die, what do I-
Does it really matter? Death was what she deserved, over and over and over, forever.
So she smiled. It was soft and accepting, welcoming her fate like a saint seeking redemption. She wanted it, she craved it, to be wiped out, to not feel, even if for a short reprieve before she had to start over this cycle again. Maybe she would respawn, and Alastor would just keep her in a constant state of pain and death and then pain and death, until he had his fill and she was nothing but a harmless shell, so broken she could never recover...
Alastor froze, staring at her. After a period of time (could have been seconds or hours, she wouldn't know the difference in her state), he snapped back to his normal stature. They stared at one another for a moment, time going by faster and slower than she had ever felt in her life... or afterlife, as short as that had been. His expression was unreadable, but she never dropped her smile, biting her tongue until she tasted blood so she wouldn't whimper in want from the death he was now denying her.
Then he laughed. It was loud and maniacal, but also pure and unfiltered. His laugh is actually kinda nice without the radio filter... She had no idea where that thought came from, but she immediately locked it away.
"My my!" The radio filter was back on. "I never would have imagined a weak girl like you to SMILE while she is about to die! How hysterically ludicrous! I thought maybe those stitched lines on your face were decorative, but perhaps you smiled too much in your life, hmm? How positively entertaining!"
Sirens filled her ears as she remembered her death, and she felt her smile fade from her face as she looked down at her hands. She could feel the bullets tearing through her flesh, and a shiver went unbidden down her spine. Her last moments played through her mind, her last thoughts, her last actions. She had smiled then too. Almost identically to how she had with Alastor.
"No, I... I just have a habit of smiling when I die, I guess."
Alastor was silent, and for a moment she thought he left. But then...
A gentle hand squeezed her shoulder, and she whipped her head up to stare into his eyes. They were still menacing and terrifying, but also... softer? Pitying.
"You have entertained me well, my dear Stitches." Alastor cooed. "As thanks for the laughs, I will allow you to live in the hotel, as long as you bring no... shall we say, threats to this fine establishment. Do we have a deal?"
Stitches scoffed, annoyed by his pity and too emotionally strained to keep appeasing him. Please kill me. "I don't do fucking deals, especially with overlords who enter a lady's chambers unannounced."
"Ha HA! Such a mouth you have on you, madam! Fear not, as I said before, I shall be sure to announce myself properly from the hallway next time."
It took a moment for his words to process, then she whipped her head up. "What the fuck do you mean NEXT time!"
But he was already dissipating away in his shadows, his chuckles echoing creepily as she was left alone in her room once more.
____________________________________________________________________________
Alastor rematerialed on the other side of Stitches' bedroom door, pondering what had just transpired. She was clearly an enigma, not at all what he expected, and rarely had he ever found himself leaving a conversation with more questions than answers. Other world? Cartoons? His life, a mere funny strip in another reality, a caricature of himself being produced for the entertainment of the masses, revealing secrets and private conversations? How revolting!
"I just have a habit of smiling when I die." Her words echoed in his mind, and he remembered his mother, cold in his arms, smile on her lips...
He shook his head, reburying that memory, deep down where it belonged. But he couldn't deny that the woman in there had gumption. She was hiding many dark secrets behind those violet eyes, stories of pain, loss, and, most curiously... Something dark. It lurked deep within her soul, only hinted in the moments of defiance and arrogance, in the way she calculated and strategically maneuvered herself. Had she gone head to head with any lesser person, she surely would have crushed them. But he was not so easily defeated. Admirable though, her efforts.
However, she did not appear to be lying or threatening the Hotel or its residents. She seemed strong and intelligent underneath that beaten and meek exterior, and the potential of seeing that surface, of mentoring and fueling her growth, of cracking her open and laying bare her every sin...
"Mmmm... We are going to have so much fun, my dear."