Notes: This chapter features a lot of world building, the Vees being meanies, and Hell politics. Liberties are taken with the origins of the Cannibals, too. Mistakes will be corrected at a later date, if any.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
An Hour After Extermination Day
Unsurprisingly, every news channel on television is talking about the canceled Extermination. Not only because it barely lasted an hour, which is both hilarious and sad in itself, but because no one expected the Hazbin Hotel staff to actually win. Or for their previously absent king to join the fray.
Rosie, and more than a few of the Cannibals watching the news, gasp as the screen shows his real face. It has been a very, very long time since Lucifer left his palace, so not once had she and her Cannibal crew—or anyone in Hell for that matter—had seen their reclusive leader. Whatever images they have of him are from magazine interviews, art, and monuments, but no one is actually naive enough to assume that that's what he really looks like.
Yet here he is now—in the flesh. Or on television, anyway. Looking almost exactly like his media depictions… except, perhaps, for a few details. For instance: she isn't sure why, but Rosie had always thought Lucifer would be… taller?
'I guess Princess Charlie gets her height from her mother,' Rosie thinks idly, blinking her wide black eyes at the large screen mounted to the wall. After a few beats (and more stolen shots of Lucifer), she smiles a little as she cups her blushing cheek. 'But goodness gracious, the apple definitely doesn't fall far from the tree! At least in terms of looks.'
Because sweet Charlie is almost an exact copy of her father, that's for sure! Down from the glowing blond hair to the rosy cheeks!
Rosie's quiet gushing is interrupted when Katie Killjoy's annoying voice cuts in, providing the same old disparaging commentary as more footage of Lucifer fighting against the now late Adam flashes on the screen. Despite her insults though, no one is actually dumb enough to be swayed by her attempts to belittle the King of Hell.
"—and if that's not enough, folks," continues Katie, pushing poor Tom Trench off-screen when he tries to get a word in. "It seems the so-called Radio Demon isn't much to look at, either! So much for the fastest sinner to rise up the ranks. This is why you don't take the nobility seriously; they're just all a bunch of in-bred, irrelevant, attention-seeking whores—"
Katie's tirade gets cut abruptly, and her footage is replaced by a replay of Alastor's fight with Adam. His rather humiliating defeat gets shown multiple times, showing his bleeding form in different angles. Rosie frowns as the Cannibals in the parlor boo at the blatant smear tactic; rightfully indignant that their honorary Cannibal is being slandered so unjustly.
This is no doubt thanks to that sleazy Vox, Rosie thinks. She doesn't know much about Alastor's past with him and the Vees, but she knows that it had been… complicated. Alastor's reputation had already taken a hit after his years-long disappearance, but after this…
'I wouldn't be surprised if I don't see him for a while,' Rosie thinks to herself, sighing. Alastor has always been extremely prideful—even when he was just a simple sinner—so his loss being broadcasted throughout Hell isn't going to end well for everyone involved. As much as she wants to check on him immediately, Rosie knows she should probably let him cool off and wait for him to come to her, like always.
More shots from both the Voxtek Voyeur Scopes and citizen cams show Lucifer doing loops in the air during his fight with Adam, then flicking the First Man away like a gnat after the princess stops his attack. The parlor erupts into cheers when Adam hits the ground, and even Rosie can't help but beam proudly at seeing a glimpse of the previously downtrodden girl fight for her hotel and kingdom.
The next few clips are closer shots of their king taking flight in his demon form, and most of the young ladies (and men!) start giggling and swooning. Even Rosie can't help but whistle in appreciation. With a face like that, it's a wonder why he chooses to hide it!
"Is that really Lucifer Morningstar, mommy?" a child watching with them tugs on her mother's skirts, gnawing on her thumb with her growing, sharp teeth.
"It sure looks like it, sweetie," says her mother, running a hand through the child's loose hair. The little girl blinks up at the screen a few times before hiding her face in her mother's lap, causing everyone nearby to laugh. "Why? Do you think he's handsome? Definitely better than the photos, huh?"
"Noooo," she denies vehemently, but from the way she keeps taking quick peeks at the television makes everyone laugh even harder.
"Well, it's nice for him to finally show up! After dooming us all in the first place, that is," one of the elderly Cannibals in the room pipes up. The laughter quickly dies, and he harrumphs and sneers at Lucifer Morningstar's grinning face on the screen. He turns to the rest of the Cannibals and says, "Don't be fooled by his fuckable looks, my people! This man is the reason why we get slaughtered by those pesky exorcists every year!"
Rosie frowns as the room fills with murmuring, the Cannibals facing each other and either nodding or shaking their heads. Her normally united people look conflicted, and it hurts her heart to see them so unsure.
"Bah, who cares about blue bloods!" old Susan cries out, brandishing her cane like a sword. With wobbly steps, she approaches the TV and squints up at it. Lucifer's visage fills the screen, as well as some headlines Rosie can't really read properly because Susan is blocking it with her large, ugly hat. "The king looks more like a doofus than the pictures! Is this really him? It could be another one of those body doubles. Like those hoaxes and conspiracies that's all the rage these days!"
"Ma, those things have been 'all the rage' since sinners started coming in." Susan's son, Jeremy, stands and gently pulls her away from the television, which she is still glaring at disdainfully. "Now, let's not block the TV. Other people want to watch the news, too."
"Hmph! Like we wanna hear more about some royal twink!"
"Ma, what did I say about speaking for everyone else?"
"What about the other Cannibals? Is the news going to talk about them soon?" Rosie turns to face one of the young ladies sitting on the settee. Her friends turn to her and rub her arms and hands as she wrings the fabric of her skirt, biting at her lip so hard it draws black blood. "I'm worried about my wife. She went to fight with the princess but we haven't heard anything about her yet. Or any of the others, for that matter."
"I saw corpses in the background of some clips," says another Cannibal quietly, and they all turn to him. His bottom lip wobbles and he turns away from the group. "My son went to that fight, too. I'm worried about him."
The chatter in the room grows louder, with the occasional raised voice and panicked outburst. After several beats, Rosie stands up to calm her people down, but old Susan beats her to it by crying out and brandishing her cane again.
"This is all Morningstar's fault!" she proclaims, standing in the middle of the room. The tip of her cane loudly strikes the tile floor as she walks around to approach small groups one by one. "You heard old Marty! He's the reason we're in this mess in the first place."
"Not that old!"
"Are we really going to act all excited just because he decides to step up and protect us for a change?" Susan asks, brandishing her cane. "Don't make me laugh! If anything, Lucifer has a lot to answer for, at least for us Cannibals! We get mixed up with the Exterminations all the time, but we're not even sinners!"
A young man raises his hand. "Technically, we're descendants of a sinner and a hellborn who loved each other very, very much, or at least that's what my Mama used to say—"
"Shut up, Georgie! We're still not fully sinners! We've been here since forever!" Susan then points her cane at Rosie, who jerks back in shock. "We even have our own form of nepotism. Dear Rosie here's, what, the 7,304th Cannibal Overlord? I used to play teeth tag with her great grandmother, for fuck's sake!"
"You know, old Susie's got a point."
"Yeah, we're not supposed to be executed with the Sinners, yet here we are."
"They used to play teeth tag! Teeth tag!"
"What should we do? Do we file a complaint?"
"I say we put an end to the monarchy once and for all—"
"Okay, that's enough, Susan!" Rosie laughs, waving her hands as she blocks Susan from the Cannibals' line of sight. She makes a little hand gesture behind her, and she maintains her wide smile as poor Jeremy drags his screaming hag of a mother away from the center of the room. When she faces the crowd of Cannibals again, she clasps her hands together and says, "You know what? I think the excitement of today's events is getting to all of us, wouldn't you say? We should all take a break from the news and try to relax."
"But what about the Cannibals who fought? Aren't we going to check for survivors?"
"Yeah, I want to know if my wife made it out safely!"
"Why isn't the Princess here? We contributed to her victory; she should at least let us know that our people are safe!"
"Everyone, calm the fuck down!" Rosie screeches; her hulking, demonic form manifesting for a brief moment. When everyone hushes, she shrinks back to her normal self and smiles sweetly at everyone. "That's better! Now, don't you lovely people worry about a thing; I'll handle it. It's my job as your leader to make sure that everyone is accounted for."
"And get compensation, yes?" Rosie turns to one of the older, more affluent-looking Cannibals emerge from the crowd. Standing a few feet away from Rosie, Watson adjusts his bowtie and coughs into his fist. "Surely you didn't agree to just help the princess without some kind of boon thrown our way, Rosie? We could use a bit of leverage, what with all the sinner Overlords taking up most of the territories here in Pentagram City."
Rosie blinks. She looks around to see that the other Cannibals, having settled down, are staring at her curiously. After a pause, she says, "Well, there wasn't any formal agreement, if that's what you're trying to ask. But Alastor was the one who brought the princess to us, and he hasn't done me wrong before."
Watson raises a white brow as the crowd of Cannibals descend into murmurs. After a few beats, Watson sighs and turns to leave the room. "May I have a word with you, Rosie?"
Watson's exit causes the murmurs to increase in volume, and Rosie stands in the center of the room, her black eyes sweeping the crowd as they look at her with uncertainty. Suppressing a low snarl, she just smiles at everyone and follows Watson out of the parlor.
Rosie turns down the hall where it leads to the front door, which is slightly ajar. She exits the building and sees Watson staring up at the pavilion in the village square. Sighing, she stands next to him, staring at the flowers and vines snaking their way up the columns and eaves.
A flash of Charlie's determined face enters Rosie's mind as she eyes the stage. She starts to smile softly, but it quickly falls when she hears Watson sigh beside her.
"So Rosie," he begins, turning to Rosie who doesn't meet his gaze until he clears his throat. "I understand that nothing… formal was agreed upon with the Princess in exchange for our participation in the fight against the Exorcists. That's not particularly bad; a favor is still a favor, after all, and the Princess doesn't seem to be the type to turn her back on those who lent her a hand. Still, I must urge you to seek some form of compensation. For our people and territory, if nothing else. The Sinners—"
"Are taking over territories left and right. I know." Rosie bristles, crossing her arms over her chest. She looks away and says, "And I'm telling you I've got it under control. Currying favor with the next ruler of Hell is a very sound strategy, and if Alastor fulfills his end of the bargain, our people will—"
"So this is Alastor's plan all along," Watson says, raising a brow.
Rosie pauses. "He didn't say so specifically. We didn't exactly get to chat much while the Princess was here. But he's right about her having potential, directionless as it is. I'm guessing that Alastor has something up his sleeve—"
"You're guessing?"
"Alastor isn't the type to kiss and tell, Watson. Or kiss at all, for that matter. He's not—"
"Rosie, focus. Are you trying to tell me that you don't know exactly what he's planning?"
"Well…" Rosie pauses, tapping a finger on her chin. At Watson's disapproving stare, she growls and raises her hands in the air. "Oh, for crying out loud, Watson! It's Alastor! You know him; he's got our backs since day one! He helped me get rid of that son of a bitch Franklin, remember?"
"I do remember. Your late husband had almost started a coup within our quiet little town." Watson turns his head away as Rosie growls lowly, as if daring him to continue. He stares up at the pavillion quietly for a few beats. "Alastor had uncovered the plot, no? If memory serves me well."
"Indeed, he did!" Rosie nods, huffing. "Alastor has done so much for this town, and so far he hasn't led any of us astray, Watson. I understand that you're part of the generation that looks down on sinners, but he's… well, not a good guy, obviously. He's in Hell. But a pretty helpful fella."
"As long as he benefits, of course."
"Well… yes. But no one does shit for free, Watson. Even you know that."
"I would do anything for my fellow Cannibals. Benefit or no," Watson says, huffing. He turns to raise a brow at Rosie. "And what about you? Do you only serve the Cannibals because you have something to gain?"
Rosie gasps loudly; her black eyes going as round as they can go. She places a hand over her chest and wags a finger in Watson's face. "How dare you, sir! Council or not, that's not how you should be speaking to me! I'm the leader of the Cannibals. I would march towards death if it meant saving one of us."
"Precisely." Watson nods. He turns around and sweeps his hand over the near-empty square, saying, "Because unlike the barbaric, anti-social sinners, we Cannibals were taught to value community and loyalty above all else. How do you think we've thrived for so long under the rule of the oppressive, sinner-loving Lilith?"
"Sinners aren't all bad," Rosie ventures softly. At Watson's blank stare, she backtracks and says, "Well, fine, they're all horrible people! It's why they ended up here in the first place. But you know what? People make mistakes. Isn't that what the Princess' hotel is all about? It's about redemption and becoming a better person!"
"And that is also true," Watson says, nodding. "But do you think the same applies to all sinners? Even Alastor?"
Rosie pauses. "Well, he's…"
"Look, Rosie: Alastor is a fine gentleman, and for the most part I like him. But he isn't technically one of us. And I don't think he even wants to be." Watson interjects gently; his white mustache twitching as he speaks. "The man has his own agenda—something even you, his longest and closest friend, don't know much about. Did he ever tell you why he vanished for so long?"
Rosie looks away, frowning. "Well, no. But to be fair, I never really asked. It's… his thing, see, and I don't want to force him to say anything out of a sense of duty or obligation."
"So he's free to do whatever he wants while you perform the duties of a friend?" Watson asks. At Rosie's stunned silence, he sighs and places a hand on her shoulder. When Rosie looks up at him, he looks unbearably kind. Rosie kind of hates it. "Listen. I understand that you just want to help Alastor, Rosie, but make sure you establish some boundaries, especially when it comes to your people. He has his own territory anyway—though I daresay I haven't seen much activity from his part of the city in years. He is a welcome guest in our little town, but that's all he is.
"He isn't our leader, Rosie. You are." Watson takes his hand away, but not before lifting Rosie's chin to make her look at him. With a soft smile, he adds, "You call the shots here. All right?"
"... Yeah. All right." Rosie nods, sighing. Looking up, she sees Watson walking back to the Town Hall. Sighing again, she turns to look at the pavilion where she, Charlie, and Alastor stood to rally her people. She closes her eyes as a memory of Alastor flashes through her mind:
"She has a lot of potential that I could guide," Alastor sings, flexing his claws as he stares after the Princess—an almost hungry, desperate look in his gaze.
"I concur," Rosie agrees, sending him a quiet look. He simply smiles at her, and both of them sing: "Stick with her, and you're on the winning side!"
Rosie shakes her head and smirks, waving a hand in dismissal. Alastor has always been the sneaky, scheming type. Whatever he has planned, she's sure that he has it all under control. What can go wrong?
After several more beats of staring at the pavilion, Rosie turns around to return to the Town Hall. If the noise coming from the building is any indication, her people are arguing again, and it's up to her to unite them and keep the peace, as always.
A Week After Extermination Day
The Cannibals of Hell are a peculiar, mysterious sort that are, contrary to popular belief, native Hell denizens, rather than an old line of sinners that have somehow managed to form a tight-knit community over the centuries. Their exact origins are unknown—sadly lost to time and irrelevance over the millennia, but their existence had been recorded by Fallen scholars to predate mortal souls in Hell. If that is not a strong indicator of them being Hellborn—if not actual proof—then Rosie doesn't know what else to think.
Though to be fair, Rosie thinks she can understand how most sinners get confused. After all, unlike other Hellborn, Cannibals resemble sinners the most in terms of shape, size, and mannerisms. Her people have even adopted bits of human culture over the years, making them resemble sinners more and more. Because of this, newly-spawned sinners approach them a lot, hoping for sanctuary in this Hellish landscape, or at least some sympathy. Alas, sinners are often left disappointed and fearful when they find out the truth, and sometimes they even wind up double dead because… well, they're cannibals. What did they think was going to happen when they walk up to them during lunch hour?
Unless of course they end up being cannibals too, like Alastor had all those years ago.
The memory makes Rosie shakes her head with a small smile on her face; the flowers on her hat swaying with her movements. She walks down the bleak and burning streets of Pentagram City, using her parasol as a walking stick. She vaguely notices sinners keeping clear of her path, but occasionally, she would meet their wary but curious gazes and flash them a sharp smile. The terrified shrieks that follow after make her smile even more—that is, until she reaches her destination.
The office building looks about the same as the last time she visited, as well as the many other times before that. Rosie thinks that Overlord Carmine owns this building outright, as she has an entire office to herself inside, but Rosie isn't entirely sure. Despite having the same title, Rosie doesn't actually know her fellow Overlords that well, so who actually owns the building can be anyone's guess.
Not that any sort of camaraderie among them is necessary. After all, they were all given their titles because of their power, not their sociability.
'Well, not all,' Rosie thinks as she enters the elevator and patiently waits for it to take her up to the top floor. Unlike the rest of her fellow Overlords, Rosie had inherited her title from her mother, who inherited it from her mother, and so on. It's another testament to Cannibals not belonging to the same group as sinners, as they can pass on titles and properties to their next of kin.
Which sinners cannot do, as they are all woefully sterile, and therefore cannot create blood-related heirs.
Rosie quietly exits the elevator, nodding idly to a pair of Overlords gossiping in the hallway. She wonders if that is why most sinners appear so lost and hopeless. A society that cannot naturally replace itself is a doomed society, after all, and children are the future. What is the point of striving for a better tomorrow if there is no future in sight?
She enters the conference room and looks around. Zeezi is already seated at the table, chatting boisterously with Vern, the fiery-maned deer Overlord who Alastor often glared at for having shared characteristics.
("His antlers are not bigger than mine, thank you very much," Alastor grouses, glaring at the other deer demon all the while. "And as you can see, I have better fashion sense. Look at that small, ghastly bowtie, Rosie. Goodness!").
Rosie smiles and laughs at the memory, and her little chuckle alerts the two of her presence.
"Rosie!" Zeezi greets loudly, waving a large hand in greeting. "Where ya been, girl? We've been waiting for hours for someone else to come in."
"Actually, you just got here, Zeezi," says Vern, looking a little perplexed at her statement. "And the others have chosen to wait out in the hall while Carmilla hasn't arrived yet."
Zeezi sighs and rolls her eyes. "It's called exaggerating, man. You gotta lighten up a little. No pun intended," she says, pointing at his fiery hair and snorting.
"Where is the pun?" Vern asks. After a beat, his eyes widen and he nods. "Oh, you are referring to my hair. Yes, it does indeed produce light, as my hair is made up of fire, and fire is—"
Zeezi groans loudly and hangs her large head back. "Vern, just shut the fuck up."
"Hello, Lady Zeezi. Lord Vern." Rosie curtsies with a nod, as she has been taught by her mother when greeting fellow Overlords with whom she is cordial. After a few beats, she looks around the near-empty room and asks, "I suppose Lady Carmine has yet to make an appearance?"
"She hasn't arrived yet, as far as we know," Vern answers, nodding. "Though it is possible that she is in her office. No one here is brave enough to knock and check."
"That's 'cause the last fucker who tried ended up disappearing," Zeezi says, resting her chin on her hand. Her large tail swishes behind her, and it sweeps away the potted plants that are lined up by the windows. "Remember that spiky-headed bigmouth Leroy? Poor bastard just knocked on her door to ask when the meeting's gonna start. Then poof, he was gone the next day."
"Ah, yes. There was an Overlord with that name, wasn't there?" Vern is mostly talking to himself, frowning at the table. "But did the rumors not say he was murdered? There were witnesses who saw him being consumed by some kind of sentient shadow. At least, that's what I heard."
"Who knows," Rosie says, smiling softly to herself. She takes a seat across them, frowning when she turns to the empty seat beside her. She sighs and straightens her skirt. "Well, I hope Lady Carmine doesn't make us wait long. We have territories to run, and things have been a little hectic since the failed Extermination last week."
"I'll say!" Zeezi exclaims, crashing her fist on the table and laughing. "Man, who would have thought that little miss Princess had it in her? Maybe that hotel of hers isn't that worthless, after all."
"A laughable notion still," Vern says, shaking his head. "And not to mention, extremely counterproductive to our line of work. Our powers stem from the deals we make with sinners and living humans; redemption is the last thing we should welcome in our circle."
"I said it wasn't that worthless," Zeezi says, shrugging. "Not that it wasn't stupid."
Rosie frowns as she listens to her fellow Overlords continue to talk shit about Charlie's hotel. While she wants nothing more than to defend the Princess' dream, she understands that making certain allegiances around this crowd can lead to devastating consequences to her reputation and her people.
And that is because, quite understandably, majority of the Sinner Overlords are now part of what is known as the Opposition Party, which was founded by the Vees when Lilith lost favor and went into hiding. Rosie herself and a few other Overlords have aligned themselves as neutral, while others who comprised of the Pro-Infernium Party are…
They lift up their heads when the doors suddenly open, and Rosie watches as a crowd of chattering Overlords come into the room. She blinks her wide, black eyes when she realizes that there are a lot more in attendance today than last time.
"Whoa, big crowd," Zeezi comments, whistling. She shares a nod with the butterfly-esque Overlord who sits next to her before turning to Vern and Rosie, "What, is this meeting actually serious, or something? I thought we were just going to eat and talk shit about the poor."
"Did you not read the email?" Vern asks, raising a fiery brow. "This meeting is about the thwarted Extermination last week. A lot of Overlords had gone into hiding to protect themselves and their contracts, so I assume many are interested in what Carmilla has planned for us."
Zeezi snorts, waving a large hand. "She's probably just going to talk about numbers again, as usual. Or maybe try to convince us to come together as a unit, or some other cheesy, patriotic shit. Who fucking cares?"
"She did assist the Princess during the fight against the Exorcists," Vern says slowly, nodding to himself. "But that is to be expected, as Carmilla Carmine has always been Pro-Infernium."
"So she's gonna tell us we have to suck up to the Morningstars now?" Zeezi asks, groaning. She leans back and places her legs on the table, making the floor shake and the nearby Overlords squeak in surprise. "Fuck my life."
A familiar, shrill laugh diverts Rosie's attention from the two Overlords, and she suppresses a scowl as the Vees enter the room. Unlike last time, all three of them are present, and they all sit at the far end of the table, laughing and chattering like they all didn't just escape being massacred by a hair.
'All thanks to the Hazbin Hotel's efforts, by the way,' Rosie thinks, smiling outwardly. Velvette shows her two friends something on her phone, causing them to all descend into hysterics. Rosie, as well as a few other Overlords, roll their eyes at the immaturity of it all.
"Settle down, everyone." The chattering (and laughing) all stop at the sound of a clear, assertive voice. They all watch as Carmilla Carmine enters the room along with her daughters, and Zestial quietly follows suit, nodding his head at any Overlord respectful enough to greet him.
"So, are we all here?" Carmilla asks, standing at the head of the conference table. She shares a look with Zestial once he takes a seat, and at his nod, she addresses them once more. "Good. I find it reassuring that more of you have come to attend this meeting. It appears there's more hope for our people yet, if their Sovereign Overlords are willing to make an effort."
"You said there'd be free food!"
"Yeah, and that the Exoricsts are coming back and we're all going to die!"
"I just came here because I have no friends…"
Carmilla's eyes narrow as her eyes shift from side to side. She coughs into her large fist and says, "Apologies for the duplicity, but I had to make sure that most of you would attend this meeting. You must all understand that things could have gone very badly for us all last week, and it's high time that we all make an effort in keeping our city and people safe from future retaliation from Heaven."
"I thought the Princess defeated the Exorcists?" asks the Overlord next to Rosie. They both share a look before she continues, "And the First Man is dead. Who is going to lead angels into battle when their only militarized member is gone?"
"Thee shouldst not assume yond only Adam is capable of fighting 'mongst the Heavenfolk," Zestial's deep, reverberating voice bounces off the walls and sends shivers down some Overlord's spines. He pours himself a cup of tea and takes a sip before adding, "They art an ancient people. Not even I am as ancient as some of those folk—"
"HA! That's a good one."
"... and I doth believeth they has't the means to wage a war if't be their wish," Zestial finishes, narrowing his gaze at a certain trio snickering to themselves at the far end of the table. He sets his teacup down gingerly and interlocks his fingers. "T'would beest foolish of us not to prepare for the worst."
"Lord Zestial is correct," Carmilla says, nodding. She sets a hand down at the table as she shakes her fist. "We have been passive for too long. The last extermination has taught us that even Heaven is not above going against its word. We cannot trust that they will remain peaceful, not after many of their numbers were killed in the fight."
"So what do you propose we do then, old hag?" Everyone turns to the end of the table where Velvette is boredly scrolling on her phone. "Don't tell me you had a change of heart and want us to fight now! But then again, you did help the Princess by arming her with your secret stash of angelic weapons."
"The Exorcists freely leave their broken weapons after every Extermination. Is it my fault that none of you have thought to take some, as I have?" Carmilla asks, raising a brow.
Velvette looks up at her phone, flushing. She snarls. "Well, that's—"
"And the reason I was hesitant to fight back before was because any attempt to retaliate can bring devastating consequences to our city," Carmilla interjects. She stands up straight and looks every present Overlord in the eye. "The Exterminations kept getting brutal after every single one, but at the very least they were all controlled and predictable. If we had fought back and showed Heaven that we can defend ourselves, who is to say that they won't send more ruthless soldiers to guarantee their victory? The last Extermination had been pushed forward because one of them had been killed last year."
"And who killed that Exorcist, I wonder?" Valentino asks, grinning sharply as he blows red smoke in the air. "Surely it had to be one of us? Or maybe you would know, since apparently angels can only be killed by their own weapons."
Carmilla narrows her eyes at Valentino and stays quiet for a few beats. Then, she turns away and says, "Whoever it was, I'm sure they were left with no choice. In any case, what's done is done, and the last Extermination has changed the course of Hell's political landscape forever. As Sovereign Overlords, it is your duty to stand against—"
"Wait, hold on," Zeezi interjects loudly. "Our duty? What do you mean it's our duty? This is Hell, for fuck's sake! We became Overlords because we own souls. No one said we actually had to do shit."
"It is true that you received your titles because of the number of souls in your possession," Carmilla says. "But you would be naive to expect that it ends there. There is more to being an Overlord in Hell than tricking human souls into slavery and lording your power over others. You are expected to serve Hell to the best of your abilities—even if it means death."
"Que carajo?!" Valentino spits out, sharing wide-eyed looks with Velvette. "What the fuck does that mean? None of us signed up for that. The fuck!"
"Surely thee didst not be think yond thy power and influence doth not cometh with a price?" Zestial asks with a near mocking lilt to his echoing voice. "Nothing in Hell is free. Yond includes thy titles."
Valentino's face turns red with fury. Rosie thinks the color quite suits him. "What even is the point? Thousands of souls wind up in Hell every fucking day! Who cares if Heaven decides to kill some of them off every now and then? We should be thanking them! We're getting too crowded here, and fresh souls mean fresh contracts!"
"Valentino's right! We don't have to do shit."
"Isn't this Hell? We're supposed to exploit people and care only about ourselves."
"You're just doing this to suck up to the Morningstars, Carmine! You've always been their little bitch!"
"Speaking of Morningstar, wasn't this Lucifer's idea? He's the reason why we had to go through the Exterminations in the first place!"
"Hey, that's right!"
"Let Morningstar handle it! It's his fault!"
"Where is he? We should storm his palace right now and give him a piece of our minds!"
"Everyone, please, settle down."
The sudden, shrill sound of static makes everyone in the room flinch and cover their ears. Rosie opens one eye to see Vox, who had been curiously quiet up until now, standing up and fixing his bowtie. He shares looks with the confused Overlords in the room before flashing them, quite literally, with his sharp and charming smile.
"My fellow Overlords," Vox greets, holding his arms out and looking eerily like a pastor holding a sermon at the pulpit. "The past week has been a traumatic and stressful time for us all, so I understand why you are all on edge. The Exterminations thus far had nothing to do with us, as it is only the small fry and weak sinners who are killed. Many of you believe this is enough reason for us to stand back and let the cards fall as they will, and in part, I do agree with you.
"But Miss Carmine does have a point," he goes on to say, flashing Carmilla a narrow-eyed smile. When she just raises a brow at him, he chuckles and continues. "As Sovereign Overlords, we are at the forefront of Hell's sinner politics. The people look up to us to protect them, and who are we to deny them this small act of service? Most sinners may be weak, but they are certainly not stupid. What do you think will happen when they realize that we Overlords have nothing to offer them? Hmm?"
"We could lose new souls," Vern says, nodding slowly.
"Exactly, my friend!" Vox affirms jovially, lifting his hands in the air. "You see, when it comes to forming contracts, trust is absolutely necessary. If the souls in our… employ do not trust us, who is to say that they won't spread the word and warn younger, newer souls against selling their souls to us? In a way, contracts are a two-way street, aren't they? We have to fulfill our end of the bargain, as well."
"What you say is true," one of the Overlords ventures. "But are you suggesting that we risk our lives for these insignificant souls? I don't know about you, but Double Death isn't worth millions of new souls."
"And are you suggesting that you aren't strong enough to defend yourself against a bunch of pussy angels?" Vox asks with a laugh. He sweeps a hand over Velvette, who waves at everyone with her fingers. "Our lovely Velvette already discovered that an angel could be killed months ago. If we equip ourselves properly and come up with strategies, we can hold our own easily. I'm sure Carmine is more than happy to help us the same way she helped the Princess."
Everyone turns to Carmilla, who stares at Vox for a few beats. She sighs and nods, sharing a look with Zestial. "Of course. I did not come here to tell you to risk your lives without a plan. I plan to develop a new line of angelic weapons that are capable of helping us defend against future Exorcists."
"And that is where Angelic Security comes in!" Vox announces loudly, uncaring of the way Carmilla mutters expletives under her breath. "If you all invest in VoxTek's new product, you can equip yourselves and your loved ones with ways to fight against the heavenly threat!"
"And how much is this going to cost?" Rosie asks. When Vox turns to her, she simply narrows her eyes. "Effective or not, your Angelic Security is worthless if no one can afford it. And there's the maintenance fees to consider, as well."
"Anything worth having is worth investing in, Miss Rosie!" Vox responds through gritted teeth, clasping his hands together. "And I'm sure you'd do anything to protect your people from future Exterminations. Though if I'm not mistaken, don't Cannibals comprise a large number of Extermination victims every year?"
"Looks like someone's not doing their joooob~" Valentino sings with a mocking lilt, laughing at the way Rosie's dark eyes flash with red, slitted pupils.
Rosie starts standing up at the table. "You dare mock me—"
"Aww, what are you mad about, Nepo Baby?" Velvette asks with a baby voice, squishing her cheeks together as Rosie seethes at her angrily. "Why don't you go ask your mummy and daddy for help? Surely they'll do anything for their little girl after giving her a job and title for show!"
"For show!" Rosie exclaims, indignant. "I'll have you know I have millions of contracted souls in my possession—"
"And most of that's passed down too, right?" Velvette snorts, waving her phone in the air. "You honestly want us to believe that you got all these contracts by yourself? A weakling like you? Bitch, please."
"I have thousands of contracts under my name," Rosie snarls; her sharp nails digging into the table. "And what does my family have to do with this? My concern is legitimate. Who knows how much you're going demand of us for these products? Everyone has the right to defend themselves!"
"Yeah, but these things cost money, you know," Valentino says, rubbing his fingers together. "Maybe you should have come up with a more lucrative business than your silly little souvenir shop."
"Ha! Souvenir shop!" Velvette says, and both she and Valentino laugh hysterically. "Fucking good one, that is!"
Rosie growls, and saliva and blood start spilling out the side of her mouth as her teeth grow even larger. "Why you—"
"Come on, you two, don't be so mean," Vox says over their laughing, wagging a finger in their faces. But despite his words, the three of them shared mocking smiles, and Rosie's slitted red pupils flash as Vox turns to face her. "Security products aren't cheap, I'm afraid, Miss Rosie. But rest assured, VoxTek is more than accommodating when it comes to our less affluent clientele. We have payment plans that I'm sure will suit your needs. You and your people have the right to defend yourselves, after all."
"Enough." Carmilla's thunderous voice loudly silences them all. Rosie vaguely registers Carmilla's gaze on her, but she's too busy glaring at the smug-looking Vees to really care. Carmilla sighs and says, "That is quite enough. Vox, you and your colleagues are more than welcome to present your formal product proposal at the next meeting. Right now, we have immediate concerns to address."
"Fine, fine," Vox acquiesces with a smile. He sits back on his chair and leans back, sweeping his hands over the table. "By all means, Miss Carmine, do give us the numbers. I do love statistics."
"Good," Carmilla says. She glances once more in Rosie's direction before nodding towards Odette. Her daughter opens her laptop and shares the screen on the board behind her. "Now, if you will all pay attention to these charts…"
A few Overlords groan in protest, but a sharp glare from Carmilla silences them all. They grumble as Carmilla shows them the data they acquired, as well as blueprints of Exorcist armor and weaponry.
But Rosie doesn't pay attention to any of that. She turns her gaze on the Vees who are quietly listening to Carmilla's presentation. Vox, having felt her staring, turns to her and smirks. Rosie quickly averts her gaze, clenching her fists on her lap. She silently vows that she's going to get back at them for humiliating her so, but her resolve quickly shrinks when she realizes that she doesn't have the means to do just that.
Because as much as she hates to admit it, the Vees are on a whole different level compared to her. Rosie more than deserves her title, but she did not earn it the way these three did. Now, if she has Alastor on her side, she can—
"He isn't our leader, Rosie. You are. You call the shots here, all right?"
Rosie clenches her fists once more before relaxing. She holds her head up high and turns to listen to Carmilla's presentation; silent and dignified, no matter how loudly the Vees snicker among themselves.
Because at the end of the day, the Vees are just posturing idiots who are drunk on their power. As long as Rosie keeps her wits about her as always, she and her people are safe from their schemes.
'Besides,' she asks herself. 'We just survived a near genocide and life continues to go on. What can possibly go wrong next?'
Present Day
Months have passed since that dreadful meeting, yet the sting of the Vees's insults still prickle at Rosie's skin, much to her embarrassment. She had confided what happened with her council, and they were all expectedly indignant on her behalf. Cannibals have always been looked down on and avoided by sinners, mostly due to their own biases. No fancy title, inherited or not, is going to make sinners respect a bunch of freaks like them.
That is, until Alastor came along and helped her give her people a much more sinister reputation. No matter what the council or Watson says, Rosie owes a lot to her friend—ulterior motives or no.
But after months of silence and merely hearing news about him from… well, the news, Rosie wonders if she should try to even the stakes. Just a little.
Rosie sighs and shakes her head. No, that isn't right. Despite the uncertainties, Rosie genuinely views Alastor as a friend, and she believes—no, she knows that he cares for her in his own way.
But Watson is right. If she is ever to be the leader her people deserve, then she is going to have to be more proactive and seek out alliances instead of waiting for them to fall on her lap. Alastor may be powerful, but he is only one man. Relying on solely him is only going to hurt her and her people in the end.
But to whom can she possibly turn? Who is willing to help her and her people when they don't offer the same shiny things that the other Overlords do?
"What about the Princess?" Rosie blinks and turns towards one of her childhood friends, Betty. It takes her a few beats to realize that she had asked those questions out loud. "She has a kind heart, and she obviously cares for her people. We had already made a good impression by helping her with the last Extermination, right?"
Rosie blinks again, and she looks up at the ceiling in thought. "That's true, and that was my plan before. But I haven't been able to get a hold of her at all. There's no telling how soon I can get an audience with her highness."
"Everyone at that hotel does seem busy," Betty says slowly. Then she lights up and places a hand over Rosie's arm. "Then what about His Majesty?"
Rosie blinks once. Twice. Then with a wide-eyed stare, she says, "What?"
"I mean, just think about it!" Betty says, making jazz hands. "If you're worried about making alliances, then why not get the most powerful being in Hell on our side? You already made a good impression on his daughter."
"That's… definitely an idea," Rosie says, perking up a bit at the thought. Then she huffs sadly. "But we don't know what the man is like. He did agree to the Exterminations. Who's to say he even cares about his daughter and her dreams?"
"He fought Adam, didn't he?" Betty asks, tilting her head to the side. "And we saw all that footage of him swooping down to catch her! And him beating up Adam and getting mad for trying to hurt his daughter."
"Well," Rosie says, tapping a finger on her bottom lip. "I suppose we did see that, didn't we? But that footage came from 666 News, which VoxTek owns. I wouldn't trust everything it shows us."
"That's definitely true, but what do we have to lose?"
"Our lives? This is Lucifer Morningstar we're talking about, Betty."
"Oh, come on, that's not the Rosie I know! We won't know until we try, right?"
Rosie stares at her friend for a few beats. She looks down at her hands, and Watson's advice plays over and over in her head. She clenches her fists and takes a deep breath.
"Yeah, you're right, Betty. Why am I acting like such a coward?" Rosie stands up from the sofa, placing a hand on her hip as she raises a fist to the sky. "I'm Rosie, leader of the Cannibals of Hell! I've got rabid, flesh-eating people on my side. People should cower before me !"
"Yeah, that's the spirit!" Betty cheers, clapping her hands together. "That's the Rosie I know!"
"Morningstar wouldn't know what hit him," Rosie says; embers igniting in her black eyes. "In fact, after I'm done with him, he'll be begging to be on the Cannibals' good side!"
"Great!" Betty stands up as well, her hands raised high in the air. "So how do we do it?"
"I… have no idea!" Rosie yells triumphantly, only faltering for a tiny moment. "But I'll figure it out like I always do!"
"Yeah!"
"Yeah!"
"YEAAAAH!"
"YEAAAAAAH!"
Their cheers are cut off at the sound of knocking. Turning towards the door, they notice a silhouette through the frosted glass. After sharing a look, Betty walks over to the door to answer it, as they're currently in her house.
"Oh, Julian," Betty greets, smiling at the young man standing on her porch. "What brings you here?"
"Hiya, Miss Betty. Is Lady Rosie here?" he asks, tipping his hat at her in greeting.
"Yes, Julian?" Rosie stands right next to Betty, with whom she shares a confused look with. "Is something wrong? I closed shop today."
"Oh, it's nothing serious. I think." They wait for Julian to elaborate, as his nervous laugh doesn't sound very reassuring. He points his thumb over his shoulder and says, "Alastor is here to visit. He says he needs to have a private conversation with you. Urgently."
As Betty gasps and fans herself, swooning Alastor's name, Rosie blinks and stares at the young man for a few beats. She clears her throat and smiles, saying, "All right. Tell him I'll be right out to meet him."
"Okay. You better hurry though. He seems a little… agitated," the young man says, laughing nervously again. He tips his hat in goodbye, leaving Betty and Rosie standing by the door. They share a look for a few beats.
"Agitated, huh?" Betty says, humming. "You think it's anything serious, Rosie?"
"I'm not sure. He doesn't usually show his bad moods to strangers," Rosie says, tapping her chin. After a brief pause, she looks up and sends her friend a small smile. "I should see what he needs. Sorry for cutting this visit short, Betty."
"No, you do what you need to do. Just let me know if you need any help, okay?"
"Of course. See you later, Betty."
"Bye, Rosie!"
Rosie waves at her friend and waits for her to close the door before dropping her smile and sighing. Alastor's visits are always a pleasure, but finding out that her friend seems agitated somehow feels… ominous.
She sighs again before shrugging, forcing a smile on her face. "Ah, well. What could go wrong? It's only Alastor."
Notes:Rosie next chapter: Oh shit. :0
And also... lol idk what happened either xD but at least I'm back? *dodges a barrage of rotten tomatoes*
Oh goodness, I'm terribly sorry for the delay ;;; tons of things happened, including conventions, work, going on vacation, getting sick, and a bunch of other stuff. This chapter was infuriatingly difficult to write too, so that didn't help at all xD
I think I mentioned before that this fic is going to feature a lot of world building and politics, so I hope you're not too overwhelmed or shocked by this chapter xD not much Alastor or Lucifer too, but I hope this chapter was interesting enough! Alastor was supposed to make an appearance too but he was being too difficult ;;; also, I realize his scene would seem out of place given the tone and subject of the chapter, so I suppose it's for the best that we push his talk with Rosie to a different chapter.
Speaking of talk: I really hope I got Zestial's way of speaking right HUHU but if any of you who are more well-versed in Shakespearean English than me have corrections, please do tell me! Just do it nicely haha omg. XD
What else? Oh, I don't really like the Vees HAHAHA (except for maybe Velvette because I looove that she has different outfits all the time), but I do feel that they're legitimate villains in their own right. Just wanted to explore that here. Also, fair warning: if you love Valentino, then you're gonna hate this fic. You should turn back now xD
Also aaaaaa I'm really sorry for not replying to last chapter's comments (and the one before that too, I think) ;;; I really do enjoy reading your comments, but I've been bad at replying lately ;;; I'll start replying again for this chapter, but I just wanted to let you know that I read and appreciate every single one (even in the languages I don't know but that's what translators are for xD)!!!
Thank you so much for your patience. This fic means a lot to me so it's very heartwarming to see people still leaving kudos and comments ; u ; I'll do my best to update more regularly in the future. Next chapter should be up in early August! Charlie and Lucifer are gonna have their much awaited talk lol.
Thank you for reading this chapter, and I'll see you all soon <3