Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The Game
The lights were spinning with him as Angel circled the pole, he only had his boots and hot shorts left on and the audience was really digging the show. He continued to climb the pole fluidly, before he kicked backwards, supporting himself with only his top set of arms as he slowly tumbled off of the pole, bending his back with it. Just another night, though maybe he'd had one too many hits. The world was blotchy and spinning even when he wasn't. Just no puking on stage. He could manage that. It had never happened before and it wouldn't now. Still he danced, abandoning the pole, and slunk down to the stage, crawling forward to the beat. He couldn't see the end of the catwalk, so trusted his pink hands to lead the way. For his next move he would be kicking into the air behind him before he shook his ass some more.
'C'mon, Angel,' he thought, 'Just do the move!' He would just kick into the air behind him-
Valentino growled from where he sat in his corner, keeping company with a few other Overlords: Velvette, Carmilla, and Husk. "Angel Dust!" he bellowed and the music stopped. The spider was laying face down on the stage, not moving a muscle, hands stretched out in front of him. Even the shout didn't wake him. Valentino shoved a waitress out of his way as he marched to the stage. "Angel!" There was still no response from his favorite pet. He climbed up onto the stage via a nearby chair he'd thrown a patron out of, and grabbed a fist-full of the spider's hair. "Passing out on my stage, puta?" He yanked him back, finally rousing him. "Ruining my show?!"
"Val...?!" Angel was still coming to, the pain in his scalp waking him up quickly nonetheless. "W-What?"
Valentino wanted to scream at him, but instead made his way up the stage, dragging Angel behind him by his hair. Angel shouted in pain, gripping Val's hand in two of his own. He kicked, trying to free himself, and tried to grab onto anything with his bottom set of hands, but the moth was way too strong. He wasn't gentle as he took him backstage, over cords, against furniture, around corners. In fact, it was almost like he went out of his way to slam the spider into them.
"Val! I'm sorry! Please!?" he screamed over and over, until they made it to their destination: the dressing room of the club with Angel's name on the door. Valentino threw him inside and he crashed against the metal table before he hit the ground. "I-I'm sorry, Val! I took too much...! I-"
"¡Cállate!" Angel flinched back against himself, nowhere to retreat to. "Passing out during a performance!? ¡Puta!"
Angel tried to keep the tears out of his eyes. He nodded, afraid to speak now that Val had ordered his silence.
"You're trying to ruin me!? Cost me money?! Huh!?" He grabbed Angel's hair again, hoisting him up against the table, belly down, slamming his face into the cold metal. "If one single person asks for a refund-!" He slammed Angel's face into the table again and again, accenting every couple of words with a new hit. "You'll get even worse!"
"I'm sorry, Val...!" Angel's voice cracked.
He swiftly snapped one of Angel's fingers, as a warning, and Angel stifled the cry instantly. "Not as sorry as you will be!"
Valentino pulled out his pink zebra-striped gun, Moneyshot. Angel closed his eyes. He hated pistol whips, and the damage Moneyshot did with them lasted days, much longer than any of Val's other guns. Valentino never released the painful grip he had on Angel's hair. He pulled Angel's shorts to his knees, and so the spider was expecting a spanking. At least the customers wouldn't be able to see all of the bruises and scrapes that way. Angel sat silently now, eyes shut tight. He bit his lips, preparing himself for this punishment. He wasn't sure if being so high was making it better or worse. It usually made it worse.
"Now, hold your ass still," Valentino growled.
He put his cigar out on the back of Angel's neck, causing a hiss from the spider's lips. He waited, sure of the horrible pistol-whipping his literal ass was about to take. But it was worse than that.
Valentino moved one of Angel's ass cheeks aside and shoved Moneyshot right in, breaching his anus in the most agonizing movement Angel had ever experienced. He screamed from his stomach, having no choice but to take the impalement. Val ripped the gun from him and when he shoved it back in, he switched to the other hole. Every time Val pulled the gun out, he would just shove it back in back and forth between his holes, fucking him with it, blood splashing back onto his light purple trousers with every thrust. Val was very obviously hard beneath them. Angel could only keep screaming. The tears he'd been forcing back broke free, the dam breaking. He knew better than to plead, but in his mind he begged and begged to be set free from this torture. Between the sharply-filed edges and rhinestones bedazzling it, this rape could only be compared to a cheese grater against his insides. Angel couldn't even breathe now, his screams losing all of their volume as his body tried to take in air. Valentino gave one final thrust of the gun, moaning in the back of his throat.
"On your back." Angel obeyed, shaking. "Retract."
"N-No... Please...! I don't think-"
"No! You don't think!" He pressed the bloody barrel to Angel's forehead. "Now, retract it!" Angel obeyed again, retracting his penis inside of himself, creating a third hole. "Hold your legs."
Angel used his bottom hands to keep his thighs spread. Valentino didn't use Moneyshot this time, at least. He freed himself and plunged into the spider, using only the blood that had dripped earlier to lubricate. All Angel could do was lay there and take it.
"Clean it," he demanded, while still raping him. He shoved the gun into Angel's mouth. "And don't miss a single spot."
Angel sobbed, nodding, and while his arms had no strength, he still held the heavy gun in his mouth. It was covered in his own blood, but clean it off he would. He licked all over the pistol, nicking his tongue and the inside of his mouth in the process. He'd barely finished the task when Valentino snatched it away from him. He hadn't finished with him yet, and continued the rough movements until he came inside of the spider.
"That's a good boy." Val stroked Angel's hair gently. "Have we learned our lesson, Amorcito?"
"Y-Yes, Val," he hiccuped, finally able to try and wipe his tears from his cheeks.
"You have three minutes to get back to that pole. We're starting that dance from the top, got it?" He growled the last two words.
"Yes, Valentino."
"Good." He took Angel's hand and kissed his palm. "Don't disappoint me again, baby."
Angel nodded and Valentino left him to collect himself. He stood, shakily, putting himself back to normal and pulling his shorts up over his bleeding backside before he headed to his vanity. There was a package of make-up wipes there and he used them to clean up his smeared eye make-up, the fallen tears, and the blood from his mouth and hands. He drew on fresh eyeliner and brushed on more mascara. He chose to fix his hair while he walked as speedily as he could. Travis met him at the edge of the stage, nodding to him and the backstage crew in one motion.
"And now, back for your pleasure," Travis announced into his headset, the speakers projecting his voice smoothly, "Angel Dust!"
The applause wasn't as rapturous as his first introduction that night, but it wasn't like he deserved any at all after passing out during his performance. He strode out with a big smile across his lips, and the music started up from the beginning. His dance was just as good as before, in his opinion, as he acted through the agony. The audience was glad for the performance, but it was soured now, and not because the star had fainted only ten minutes before.
Husk looked away from the stage, visibly uncomfortable. Carmilla had left during Angel's absence and Velevette was scrolling through her phone, bored. Valentino's smile was even wider than it had been before. Husk didn't know how any of these fuckers were enjoying this now, with blood caked and dripping down the back of the spider's legs, over his boots and now it was even making it to the floor. Somehow the spider managed not to slip in it, but soon he had it on the rest of him when the floor work began. The circular burn mark on the back of his neck, the swollen finger, and the long bruise forming on his back were all too obvious as well. How the dancer was ignoring it all was beyond the Gambling Overlord.
"I'm gettin' the fuck out of here, Val. I don't know how you enjoy this shit."
"Not having a good time, Husky baby?"
"I'm gonna head home and drink some actual good liquor." He popped his top hat on his head.
"Want to take anyone home tonight? I have a couple of girls who are free that I don't mind sharing. No charge~"
"When have I ever taken you up on that offer?"
Val shrugged. "Always worth a shot. Is it so bad for me to want a friend to get his dick wet every now and then?"
"My sex life is none of your damn business. Later Val."
"Bye baby," Val waved with his fingers.
Husk's limo was nearby, and as soon as his chauffeur saw him he ran over and opened the door for his boss. Husk rode along in silence to his sector of Pentagram City, allowing his mind to wander. He'd seen some shit living in Hell, especially being an Overlord, but this was a lot. Even for Valentino. Now, he knew Val was horrible to the souls he owned if they so much as blinked at him wrong, but to mutilate a worker and then make him perform after? What the ever-living fuck was that about? Surely he had other girls to dance if Angel couldn't after his punishment.
He stayed silent, ignoring calls of "Hey, Boss", "Need anything, Boss?", "Hey, Mr. Husk is back!" as he stomped to an elevator just on the other side of the lobby of Ace of Spades Casino. He grumbled the word "Penthouse," to no one and it sped up to the top floor.
He shed his hat, jacket, and tie as he walked into his living room, undoing the two topmost buttons of his shirt as he sat on the couch, pulling a bottle of whiskey from the shelf beneath the side-table. He sat in silence, glaring at his reflection in the television, drinking straight from the bottle. He needed to get Angel Dust's soul. He wasn't completely sure why, but something in his gut told him to save the pretty spider. Husk wondered if it was all just make-up or if he really was that gorgeous naturally. There had to be something more to him than sex for Valentino to take such favor to him.
He sat and puzzled, formulating a plan. He'd get Angel's soul, get him away from that monster.
The next afternoon, as Husk headed to his office on the fifth floor, his clawed fingers flew across the keys of his phone. The response was immediate and he grunted to himself, pleased with the outcome. He tapped the small piece of plastic in his ear before speaking.
"Get the first VIP room ready for Valentino tonight. I'll give you the ETA once I have it." He listened, nodding shortly. "No, just him. We're going to play a few rounds." He nodded again. "No, I'm having him bring Vox's deck. Make sure there's hors d'oeurvres. I want Yuri on bar duty." He tapped the earpiece again and sighed, getting ready to dive into that day's paperwork.
~*~*~
Valentino was late, fashionably, as always. Husk was standing at the bar, drinking some bourbon when the moth entered. "Lookin' sexy, Husky baby," he greeted.
Husk rolled his eyes. That's what he got for having his shirtsleeves rolled up onto his forearms. The pimp would take any reason to flirt. "Hey, Val. Did you bring the cards?"
"Of course." He pulled a blue deck from his pocket. "I still don't know why you don't want to use your fancy ones."
"So you can't accuse me of marking them like last time."
Val smiled and sat at the table. "Smart little kitty." There was a small charcuterie board nearby on the bar, he noted. "Cuba Libre, por favor." Maybe after a drink or two he'd dig in.
"Sí," Husk replied, motioning to Yuri, an imp-incubus hybrid he'd hired years ago. "Give 'em a shuffle."
Valentino shuffled the deck messily, nowhere even close to how the feline would have done it, but it would get the job done. "What are we playing tonight?"
"I was thinking Blackjack, unless you have other ideas."
"Ooh, something easy. You're too kind."
"You're the one who refuses to get prescription glasses, Val."
Valentino laughed. "And ruin my amazing style?"
Husk rolled his eyes and took the drinks from Yuri. Val was more than delighted with his and drank happily from it while Husk sat across from him. "You've got me there."
"I know."
"Who's dealin'?"
"I always make a mess of it."
Val handed the cat the deck of cards, decorated with different types of sharks: Hammerheads for Spades, Great Whites for Diamonds, Tigers for Hearts, and Nurses for Clubs. He smirked. Yeah, these belonged to Vox, alright. Valentino's set of chips was already prepared for him with his normal pull. He tossed in a few hundred. Husk raised him an extra two-hundred, so Val matched that. Husk dealt the cards, leaving his first one, an eight of clubs, face-up. Valentino took a look at his, adding them up quickly in his head. Husk raised an eyebrow. It wasn't a tell, unfortunately for Val. It was impossible to read the cat.
"Need a hit?"
"No, baby."
Val had a Queen of Spades and a Nine of Diamonds. Husk revealed his hidden card, never seeing it himself before now. It was like he didn't care if he won or lost. It was a Jack of Hearts.
"Congrats, Val." He shoved the chips over to the moth.
"You can shuffle them, baby. I like watching you."
Husk finished his bourbon and collected all the cards before shuffling them theatrically. Valentino kept his eyes on Husk's hands as he moved, hoping to catch him cheating, but it was no use with those sleeves rolled up and Vox's deck on the table. Bets were placed, both going higher this time than before, but it wasn't outrageous, simply a thousand or so. Husk dealt, his showing card more promising this time, an Ace of Clubs. Still he didn't peek at his hidden card.
'Cocky bastard,' Valentino thought. But he may have been right to be cocky. "Hit me," the moth sighed. Of course he had shitty cards this time, a three and a two. His luck only worsened. It was another fucking three. Husk raised his eyebrow again. If Val hit he might make seventeen. Maybe eighteen. "Again." The Queen of Spades. He rubbed his chin, willing to risk this hand.
"What do you have, Gatito?"
Husk flipped the card, revealing a King of Hearts. "Rotten luck on that one, my friend," Husk said, gathering the chips before collecting the cards and shuffling again.
Valentino won the next seven rounds, confident that Husk wasn't cheating, though he never once looked at his hidden card, even when he decided to draw an extra. Husk stayed cool as a cucumber, dealing time and time again, bets getting higher and higher. Round ten was up next and they made their wild bets, hundreds of thousands each. Husk dealt the cards, revealing his up card as a Queen of Diamonds. Valentino grinned. He had a Jack of Clubs and a King of Hearts.
"Double down," he chuckled and tossed in his chips. Husk nodded, revealing his down card, an Ace of Spades. "What?"
"That had to hurt, Val. Wanna keep going?"
"Hmm, you know I like it rough, Husky." It was only one loss, after all those wins. "Let's go again." Yuri brought them fresh drinks and Val swayed a bit where he sat. This had to be his fourth Cuba Libre by this point, and Yuri had a heavy hand. Husk was constantly nursing his own drink and had lost track of what number he was on. "Only one more round. I told Vox I'd be home before midnight. We have a date tonight."
Husk checked his gold pocket watch. "Sounds good to me. I have to walk the floor around that time."
"You won't get me again, baby. I've been on fire all night." Valentino bet everything he had, and so did Husk. The cards were dealt, leaving Valentino with two face cards again. Husk had an Ace of Hearts. Valentino smirked. It would be impossible for the little pussy cat to get that lucky again. "Double. Down." He smiled widely.
"You sure about that?"
"I'm more than sure."
"What're you betting? All your chips are on the table."
"Well, if you're so cocky make a new bet too."
Husk shrugged. He grabbed a bar napkin and wrote ‘Hearts’ in his messy scrawl before signing it and slapping it down. "This is one of my casinos. It pulls between one and two million a night." Valentino's eyes sparkled in delight. "Any of your clubs match that?"
"I have something way more valuable than a club," he sang.
"You're really so confident?" he rubbed his fuzzy chin. "It is a twenty," he admitted. "Fine. What's the bet?"
"Angel Dust." Husk's expression didn't change. "He's the best I've got, Gatito."
Husk shrugged. "Fine."
Val took his own napkin and wrote the sinner's name down, his own handwriting flowery and fluid. He signed his name, kissing the paper, leaving a smear of lip gloss behind. Husk really couldn't believe it had been so easy to get the moth to add Angel's soul to the bet. Now he only had to trust his instinct that he had a face card laying hidden on the table. It would be the best luck he'd ever had, especially after losing so many rounds tonight.
"Now, flip that bad boy over so I can go celebrate with Voxy."
Husk did as he was requested, revealing the impossible, a King of Spades. "And that's Blackjack, my friend."
Valentino stood, instantly furious. "You cheated!! ¡Bastardo mentiroso!" (Cheating/lying bastard!) He smashed his glass into the floor. Husk remained expressionless, sipping from his own. "¡Puta madre! How did you do it!? How!? You counted?!" (Mother Fucker!)
"With two people? You realize how hard that would be, right?"
"How did you cheat!?" He threw his chair into the wall. "Another game! I'm winning him back!"
"We agreed on just the one more, Val." Husk handed Valentino the deck of blue cards, not reacting in the slightest to the moth's outburst.
Val threw them too. "No! Another game!"
"I won fair and square." He glanced at his watch. "And look, we finished before midnight. You have time to make it to your date." Valentino screamed in anger, throwing the meat and cheese tray across the floor. Yuri hid himself behind the bar. He wasn't a sinner. That moth could kill him. Husk stuck the two napkins in the front pocket of his trousers. "I want my winnings delivered by noon." Husk brushed past him, taking his jacket and hat from the coat rack by the door. "I'm gonna charge you for anything else you break. And don’t lay a finger on Yuri." And he was gone, leaving Val to throw his tantrum.
~*~*~
Angel had fallen straight into bed the night of the assault. He'd finished the entire show before Valentino had him attend to a few VIPs in the private room. Luckily, Val would only let them use Angel's mouth. His high had completely faded by the time he was done, and dawn was peeking in to say hello. He wanted a cigarette. He knew he should take a shower, clean off the blood and cum, but he needed to sleep, and maybe take some pills. A little snorting nose prodded his foot and he sat up, seeing his adorable piglet.
"Aw, hey Nuggy." Angel picked up the pig and cuddled him close, loving the cuddles he received in return. "I had a late night at the club, huh?" Fat Nuggets replied with a decidedly affirmative oink. "You know Val. Does whateva he wants." Angel kissed the pig on the head. "Lets go get cleaned up. I have a photo shoot in the afternoon."
Velvette was one of the better of the Vees to work with. She was mean and rude, sure, but at least she kept her hands to herself, only touching when necessary to help him into an outfit or fix his hair. He had three movies to shoot advertisements and covers for today, and knew he'd be in for a long ride. A couple of his costars, a blonde rabbit sinner and a purple goat sinner who were small and thin like him, were there too. So, they understood at least. His make-up artist was irritated every time he needed his face fixed. He was still bruised all over. They both knew there was nothing for it, but she was annoyed either way. His fuzz made cover-ups a little more difficult to look natural. They would need to use the computer to cover his broken finger.
Vox and Val would be going out that night, so it was a safe bet that he'd actually have an entire day without seeing the moth. He went to dinner with his costars in Godfrey's apartment. It was so much nicer than Angel's, even though Angel knew he brought in more money for the Vees. The little goat must've had a better contract.
It was only ten when he made it home, and gave Fat Nuggets some of the leftover yams he'd brought back. The little pig was delighted and did laps around the room between each happy bite. Angel laughed happily at the little creature and headed into the bathroom. He turned the tub on and sifted through his various bath bombs. It felt like a lemon sherbert kind of night. He unwrapped it from its plastic covering and set it aside before he undressed. He lit a cigarette and smoked it lazily, the pink smoke accenting the lemon scent of the room. These cigarettes had that effect: enhancing other smells, whether that be good or bad. Once the tub was full and steaming he dropped the chalky globe in. He always had fun watching them spin and bubble away, especially after he'd had a line or two of coke, which he'd had. Okay, maybe more that two. Those two liked good blow just as much as him.
He turned his phone to a playlist of some of his favorite songs and slid into the hot water. It was fantastic. He might have another cigarette. So relaxing. He only ever had a night off when Val and Vox had a date planned. He usually spent them with Cherri, but his costars were good company too.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been soaking. All he knew was that the water was getting cold now. He stretched his arms above his head and glanced at the clock. It was still before midnight, just a few minutes to spare. He pulled the plug and stepped out onto the fuzzy hot pink bath mat. He dripped for a few seconds, feeling the hot room against his skin. He hated that he didn't have air conditioning. It made it hard to sleep sometimes.
He reached for his towel and froze, gasping, feeling the shackle around his neck tighten, turning the room pink with it's glow. 'What the-?' Then a second, golden, shackle appeared around his left bottom wrist, just as tight. The room was orange with the glow of them together now. 'What the fuck?!' He fell to the floor and it felt like he was being pulled in two separate directions. Val's shackle was hot and he gasped as it got even hotter, almost burning him. The shackle around his wrist tugged harder, but wasn't hurting him, at least not that he could tell. Val's got tighter and he cried out quietly, reaching for it. Then something impossible happened.
The shackle shattered.
Angel gasped, filling his lungs with the freshest air he'd breathed in decades. There wasn't an ounce of Val's scent anywhere. Not a single pheromone. Just the scent of lemon sherbert, cigarette smoke, and mold. The gold shackle around his wrist got brighter, a chain appearing briefly before they vanished. He was alone again, on his knees in a puddle of water on the floor of his bathroom. What in the Seven Hells had just happened?
Angel didn't sleep well at all. He didn't know if it was the heat, the pain in his backside, or the sheer confusion, but he didn't drift off until he heard people on the streets, headed for work. He couldn't have been out more than three hours when his phone rang loudly. He reached for it automatically in case Val needed him, but it was Vox. 'Huh? Vox never calls me.'
"H-Hello?" He tried to stifle his yawn, but failed.
"Angel," Vox sighed. "You need to report to the Ace of Spades Casino by noon. Val... told me not to say why." He heard a glass shatter in the distance, followed by Spanish cursing. "So, just get there on time. Got it?"
"Sure... Do I gotta wear anythin' special?"
"I doubt it matters. I swear to Christ, Val!" He heard Vox's voice turn from the phone. "If you break one more of my mugs...!" He spoke back into the receiver. "Just be there on time. Oh, and pack up your shit." He hung up before Angel could respond.
Pack? Why? Was Val moving him back into the tower? Wasn't he mad at him still? What did he need to do at a casino? Did he have a gig? Nuggs was still sleeping soundly. Angel still had nearly two hours to get to the casino, but chose to get up and at least get dressed and start packing some clothes until he needed to leave.
Ace of Spades was thirteen stories tall, and very finely built. It was fancier than even the Vees' tower, but he wouldn't tell Vox that. He went in through the rotating door. He was nervous now that he was inside the large lobby. He was in his usual business clothes, a black mini skirt, pink and white striped blazer, bow tie, thigh-high boots, and gloves, which were hot pink on his top arms and white on the bottom. He hoped it was appropriate for such a swanky place. There was a solitary concierge, so he walked up to her.
"I was told by Vox ta come here," he said when she looked up at him, wholly uninterested. She blinked, waiting for more. "Uh, I'm Angel Dust. Vox didn't tell me anythin' else 'cept ta come ta Ace of Spades."
She typed into the computer in front of her before her eyes widened. "Um, Boss- er sorry - Mr. Husk has an appointment listed for you. His office is on the fifth floor." She slid a guest pass over to him. "Just follow the signs." She looked him up and down. "I assume you can read."
Angel didn't hide the offense on his face. "Listen, bitch-"
"Have a nice day, Sir." She gave him the fakest smile she could muster before returning to her monitor, uninterested again.
He snatched the pass from the desk and flung the lanyard around his neck. "Yeah. Whateva. Fuck you."
He flipped her the bird and went to the elevator, pressing the 'up' button about eight times in quick succession before the door opened. He pressed the '5' and tapped his foot, waiting. Was this thing ever going to move? The door opened and he reached for the 'close door' button before he realized he was on a different floor. He was staring at black and gold wallpaper. He stepped out, almost getting caught in the closing door. The numbers above the elevator were an old-fashioned bronze dial. The number '5' was the largest. Next, he looked for the supposed signage, which was about six feet to the right of the elevator. He followed the arrows that led to different offices before he made it to a large door near the end of the hall.
He was nervous again. What could the Gambling Overlord, of all people, want with him? He knocked, hoping he hadn't missed some fancy doorbell or something. A speaker buzzed beside the door, making him jump.
"Come on in," a deep, manly voice said.
He tested the door, finding it opened out and pulled. It was heavy, but it didn't weigh on him like his nerves did. It was really weird for him to be nervous for something, especially if it involved a nice-sounding voice like that. He peeked his face in before he stepped in. It was a large office with a large wooden desk right in the middle. A drink cart was just off to the side of it, glasses ready to go and a crystal carafe filled with what looked to be whiskey or rum. The Gambling Overlord sat behind the desk, a pair of reading glasses on his nose. He was reading over something. Angel had seen him before, from afar in the club, but never this close. He wasn't super familiar with the Overlords other than the Vees. He'd never been into politics. The Gambling Overlord sure was handsome, wasn't he?
"Um, hello, Sir? Sorry, I'm not sure what to call ya, honey." Angel brushed his short hair out of his face, smiling sweetly. He had to flirt appropriately or Val would have a conniption fit. "I hope I ain't late."
Husk stared up at him, almost as disinterested as the concierge had been. "Have a seat. I'm just finishing this up." He referred to the paper in his hand.
"Sure, baby."
Angel sat in the plush chair in front of the desk, taking the opportunity to look around. The walls had books, decorations, board games, a few really fancy chess sets, boxes of expensive cigars and bottles upon bottles of what looked to be equally expensive booze. There were closed wooden cabinets to match the rest of the built-in shelving. In a corner was a record player, a box of records, and a couple of chairs, looking even more plush than the one he was in.
Husk set the paper down and pulled his reading glasses off, setting them atop a tray nearby. "Now that I have that finished, are you ready to read it over?"
"Huh? Read what ova?"
The cat handed him the paper. It was a fine weight and it had been typed up on a typewriter, which was nearby on the desk next to a black silk top hat. "I just need to make sure everything looks good before we sign."
"Sorry, but Valentino didn't let me know what you were hirnin' me for. He doesn't let me sign nothin'."
A feathered eyebrow went up. "I don't give a shit what that mother fucker wants." Angel still looked confused, holding the paper in his tiny hand, not having read it yet. "Jesus fuck," he grumbled. "Of course... Listen, Angel Dust, I figured someone would have told you, but I don't know why. He's an unreliable son-of-a-bitch."
"Told me what?"
"Valentino bet you in a game of Blackjack, and I won."
Angel stared, the events of the previous night making so much sense suddenly. "You're sayin' Val doesn't own me anymore?"
"That's right. I own your soul now. It's technically official, but I like doing my own paperwork." He gestured to the paper in Angel's hand. "So we just need to get this out of the way."
Angel felt himself smile, a real, genuine smile. "No more Val...?" His eyes filled with tears as relief filled him. He thought he’d loved him once, was used to him, but a weight lifted. He knew why the air felt so clean now. "This feels like I'm dreamin'." A couple of the tears fell free and he smiled. "I mean, my soul still ain't mine, but... No more Val...!" Husk handed him a soft white handkerchief and Angel wiped his eyes, not wanting to ruin his make-up. "Sorry. I just got here and now I'm cryin' in front of my new boss."
"Just... read the contract, Angel."
Angel nodded and read it over. It wasn't all too different from Valentino's. It looked like he'd still have about the same amount of freedom, only really needing to follow orders when it was work, or on Husk's property, or summoned. He had to live in approved housing. That was new. He'd be guaranteed safety on extermination days so long as he stayed inside the Gambling Overlord's property. That was also new. And his pay... Well, shit, he'd be making more money.
"I have a question, if that's okay?" Angel asked.
"Does something need to change?"
"No, it's fine, but what kinda work am I gonna do?"
"I was still trying to come up with that. What talents do you have, other than dancing and porn, of course?"
"Lesse..." He pondered for a moment. What talents did he have that could be monetized? "I sing pretty good. Used ta do it for Val before he found a better place for me."
"That sounds good to me. I could use a headliner in the lounge."
"Do you wanna add that in?"
"Specifics aren't required. It'll be easier for us to move you around that way if we need to."
"Everything looks good then. Are you sure you're okay only being the boss a me when I'm on your property or doing work for ya? I think Valentino really regretted that, even if he managed to find loopholes. Gotta make sure you're happy, Boss. If you're not happy, nobody is, right?"
Husk grunted in approval at that. "I'm fine with it." He held a pen out to the spider.
Angel took the pen, knowing even if he didn't sign that the cat still owned him, this just made it more fair, taking any of Val's stench away for good. It was almost too good. There had to be a catch. He set the paper to the desk and signed 'Anthony' across the space meant for him. Since he still knew his living name, he knew he would be required to sign that. Beside it, though, he added 'aka: Angel Dust' and punctuated it with a flourish resembling a heart. It was how he signed autographs. He handed the new contract to the Overlord, who signed it himself before he slid it into a leather envelope. He stored it in a drawer of his desk, feeling the deck of cards in his pocket grow cold for a split-second.
"So what kinda singin' do ya want me ta do?"
"Whatever you like, as long as the band can learn it."
"W-Whateva I want?"
"That's what I said."
"And what sorta costumes? Will I have a stylist?"
"We have one in house if you need help, but it doesn't matter to me. Just no stripper shit. This isn't that kind of place."
"So... if I wanted ta do drag or somethin' crazy like that?"
"Fine by me. I'll let you know if I disapprove, and you can change." Angel blinked at him, still so surprised with how free he was while still being owned. "You get today to move out of your current apartment and into one in a building I own." There was the catch. "I don't like my people having to worry about making rent. They need to focus on work. Also, you are not allowed to be high when you perform. In fact, I require my workers to be clean. Weed's fine, and obviously booze, cigarettes, but nothing else. I expect you to kick anything else you're on."
"Clean? Like sober?"
"For the most part, yeah."
'Shit,' Angel thought. He'd been on drugs since before he died. It was how he died.
"I don't expect you to go cold turkey," Husk assured him. "We'll wean you off at a safe pace."
"O-Oh..."
"Tomorrow you'll meet the band and stage crew, and you guys can start rehearsals. It's going to take a couple of days to get advertising ready for the show, so you have a little bit of time. Two days enough?"
"That depends on the band, Boss." Angel winked. "I'm a quick study."