Meeting
“Hello, Mister!” Gwen jumped out of a manhole cover and into the path of a random passerby with red skin and striped horns, “Have you seen a Sinner with a fondness for blue and grey and stupid floppy undercuts?” She paused to look at the creature’s perplexed face and added, “Also computers. Probably has something to do with computers.”
Finally, some understanding sparked in their eyes, “Well, if you’re looking for computers, then those demons tend to gather over by the Vees.” The demon’s tail reached up and pointed up through the skyline and towards a particularly flashy set of buildings, all topped with giant blinking Vs.
“Aw, thank you!” Gwen grinned, patting him sharply on the shoulders and skipping away.
She made it two feet before Cecil teleported in beside her, leaving a trail of pixels in his wake, “Why computers?” He asked, combing through his hair with long fingerclaws, “I doubt your brother and I are both tech-based Sinners.”
“That’s just what the youth of today has become.” She clicked her tongue, “But Teddy was a bit of a whiz at these things, you know? He could figure out how to block websites through the modem, and all that sorta junk. If that didn’t bleed into his form in some way, I’m calling foul play.”
Cecil nodded, glitching slightly again, which seemed to be a nervous tell of his, “Should we talk strategy, or do you wanna go in there guns blazing like always?”
“Strategize for what? I’m sure just walking up and asking at reception will get us answers.”
A beat.
“Gwen, you know what the Vees are, right? With the amount of fuss you’ve been kicking up, it’s not going to be that easy.”
Gwen groaned, rubbing her eyes, “Dude, you’ve got to start assuming I don’t know anything about Hell and it’s ridiculous hierarchies of important people and just tell me outright.”
He cleared his throat, “Okay, well, Vox, Velvette, and Valentino are three pretty major Overlords. They’re on the same level as that other one you killed. Actually, no, definitely stronger. They’ve completely monopolized the information technology market of the Pride Ring.”
“Ooh, sounds fun.” Gwen whistled, “Television, social media, that sort of thing?”
“Yeah.” Cecil agreed, “Which is why you gotta be careful. They probably have eyes on us at this very moment, and are preparing for the possibility that you’ll try and attack them. And you won’t succeed. Not in a three-against-one.”
“My, I wouldn’t say that.” A staticky voice called out from elsewhere in the street, “Powerful demon like you? Might have a chance after all. That Vox oversells his abilities like only the best sham salesman can.”
Gwen blinked and looked up at where the voice seemed to be coming from. But something shifted beside her shoulder as she did so, and the voice murmured again in her ear, the static thicker and more distorted, “Boo.”
There was some sort of deer-man grinning at her from over her shoulder, gums dripping with blood and a cane shaped like a microphone held tightly in his hands. She blinked and backed up a bit into the next panel. He made to follow, but the box wall unseen to him blocked him.
“Well, aren’t you full of some dandy tricks!” He nodded approvingly, tapping his nonexistent cage. Panel composition worked its magic and the two panels finally merged into one large one, allowing him to reach his hand forward for a shake, “The name’s Alastor!”
“Gwen Poole.” She returned the gesture, “You know, listening in on other people’s conversations is really rude.”
“I’ve heard the same being said about slicing people in half! Isn’t it fascinating how societal niceties fall to the wayside in this place? You’d expect people to continue to have some decorum.” His smile remained bright and unmoving. A laugh track sounded from around him.
Gwen lit up, swiveling around to look for a source, “So are you living out your dream of being in a sitcom or is this a vaudeville performance to you?”
More laughter.
“Ah, vaudeville. I had a background in that, you know? Except people tended to know your face if you did that, which would put a damper on my other endeavors.” Laughter.
Gwen giggled too, “It was murder, right? You’re fun. We should talk more, I need to initiate a timeskip to get us to those V-towers.”
Alastor snickered, “Ah, yes, I wanted to talk to you about precisely that. Why bother trying to get through to that unreliable picture box when you could instead have all your questions be answered by me-?”
“Sorry, deer man, can’t chat, skipping tiiiime.” Gwen was already flipping the pages of the comic book she knew the world to really be.
Alastor appeared in the hotel lobby looking absolutely furious.
Of course, his trademark smile was still intact – the humiliation hadn’t been that severe – but his ears were pulled back and the strain in his face was reaching physically painful levels.
He had been curious about this new Overlord on the block. Having once been an extremely powerful soul completely ignorant to the ways of Hell, he knew exactly how much of a mess could be left in their wake. And how easily exploited they were.
What he found was pretty much par for the course: going mad with power, attacking random passersby, picking fights with some very high-profile Overlords. She was winning for now, but eventually a limit would be hit. A fight would be picked that could not be won. And her soul would be ripped to shreds with angelic weaponry.
Happened more than once every few years. Alastor had avoided that grisly end, himself, but he was the one outlier. This one took him by surprise, but he also hadn’t gone in wanting to rip her head off. He needed her trust. Some idea what her powers were. A rapport to build up, until he brought out the contract and shook his hand one final time.
The girl’s powers were strong, certainly. A theme which he didn’t quite grasp. Some sort of media related thing, he understood that much, but nothing further. What had caught his attention more while he eavesdropped was that there seemed to be a method to her madness, instead of just having a bloodbath to commemorate her first day in Hell.
She was looking for someone. And it didn’t seem to be a revenge match. A… Teddy Poole, huh? The strangest way of spelling ‘weak link’ he’d ever seen.
“Good morning, Ms. Charlie!” He grinned, stalking up to the Princess of Hell, who was mixing together instant coffee into a mug.
She looked up blearily, and then jolted up more clearly, “Alastor! You’re… has something upset you?”
“Nothing to be concerned about.” He waved off, “You’re the Princess of the People, correct? You should have a full directory on all your charming subjects. I’m looking for someone I believe will make a fun addition to our little group of Hazbins.”
She lit up at the mention of new guests, before regaining her darned skepticism, “And why am I trusting you with this?”
“Call it a juvenile attempt at one-upping the Vees.” He offered, “The person themselves doesn’t matter, I just need to use them as bait to attract another one. You can have your fun with both of them once I’ve got her under contract.”
Now he’d offered her two residents. It was too big of an offer to resist, compared to the progress so far. Which was none. They had had boringly little progress.
“I can ask Dad for access to the paperwork for all that.” She agreed, smoothing out her shirt.
Success!!!
Gwen stared up at the building plastered with screens from wall to wall.
“Think you can hack it?” She asked Cecil hopefully. He screwed up his face and disappeared into the circuitry, followed by flickers of electricity.
The screen he targeted turned red and jolted, throwing him out onto the ground.
“Eugh.” He landed on the floor, “Locked tight.”
“Heist, then?” She offered.
He tried to frown, but it was obvious that he couldn’t hide his excitement, “Fine. Heist. But only if you play spy movie music over it.”
“… Honestly, I don’t watch that many spy movies. Will the Mission Impossible theme do?”
“Deal.” He accepted.
In the corner, a camera was blinking red.
“Whoops, the panels are focusing in on the camera in that corner. The big bads probably know what we’re planning already.” Gwen noted, peering into the wider comic page.
“Gwen!”