In 1947, in the United States, a 37-year-old man named Anthony lived under the shadow of his father, Henroin, the head of a little-known mafia. His life had been marked by violence since childhood; Henroin punished any sign of rebellion with beatings and humiliation, and his brother Arackniss rarely offered support, leaving Anthony to suffer in silence. The house was filled with a dense, humid air, the smell of tobacco, cheap alcohol, and aged wood following him at every step. Narrow hallways echoed with the screams and slammed doors that Henroin delivered as if they were part of the decor.
Anthony had yellow hair and emerald-green eyes that seemed to shine even brighter against the shadows of the house. He always wore a brown jacket, white shirt, black pants, and dark shoes, as if trying to maintain a shred of order in a home ruled by chaos. From a young age, he was attracted to men, something his father deeply despised. Every time Anthony flirted with someone, Henroin beat him, humiliated him, and called him a "faggot," ensuring the young man knew his disdain. The atmosphere was always charged with tension, as if any spark could ignite a fire.
In 1928, when Anthony had reached adulthood, his younger sister Molly was born. The room where he held her in his arms was lit by the dim glow of an oil lamp, the scent of freshly washed sheets and floating dust filling the air. From that moment, something changed in him.
—Hello… little one —Anthony whispered, looking at the girl with tenderness—. I'll always protect you, I promise.
From that moment on, Anthony became her protector. He would not hesitate to confront his own father or brother to ensure Molly's safety. He gave her money for her studies and eliminated any threat that got in her way. The death of their mother at Arackniss's hands only strengthened his resolve. The living room was cold and silent, the dust-covered furniture silent witnesses to the crime.
—What the hell did you do, idiot?! —Henroin shouted, his voice full of rage—.
—I was fed up with her —Arackniss replied coldly, without a trace of remorse.
Henroin made sure the case was closed; he paid to bury the woman in a cheap cemetery and ensured no one asked questions. The family sank into a heavy silence, full of resentment and fear, as if the walls themselves absorbed the despair.
Over time, Molly, now 19, decided to run away from home, escaping the oppression of her father and brothers. While she sought her freedom, Anthony began to lose control of his own life. Consumed by his addiction to "Angel Dust," he could no longer endure Henroin's tyranny. The city seemed to close in around him, with gray, wet streets, flickering neon lights, and the constant feeling of being watched.
—You're a damn disgrace! —Henroin shouted, his voice full of anger—. I heard you slept with a man!
—So what? —Anthony replied defiantly—. None of your business.
Tension exploded in seconds. Henroin beat him to the floor. In a mix of rage and desperation, Anthony reached for his father's gun. Three shots rang out in the room: to the chest, the arm, and finally the head, reverberating against the walls and making the furniture shake.
—Goodbye… —Anthony whispered, as Henroin fell to the ground.
But the tragedy didn't end there. Arackniss, reviewing security footage, filled with resentment, sought revenge. Without Anthony knowing, someone laced his drugs with spider venom. Soon, Anthony suffered convulsions; he tried to reach his phone, but it was too late. He died, leaving behind a life of pain and struggle, in a room that seemed to shrink around him as the light faded.
Upon descending to Hell, his appearance changed. He became a spider demon: tall, slender, with white skin and fur, white hair tipped with pink, four arms and two main eyes accompanied by smaller eyes like freckles. Occasionally, a third pair of retractable arms sprouted from his back. His prominent chest was covered in fur, and his outfit had pink and white stripes, accompanied by tall boots and gloves. He walked through Pentagram City, where the buildings were spiky towers and the streets glowed with red and violet light, illuminated by infernal lights dancing over the black asphalt. The sulfur-laden fog and the murmurs of demonic creatures enveloped him as he tried to comprehend what had happened.
Then Valentino appeared, an Overlord and adult film producer, amid the chaotic bustle of the infernal city. His smooth, calculated words managed to break down Anthony's defenses and convince him to work for him.
—What name will you use now? —Valentino asked, with a smile full of hidden intentions.
Anthony thought for a moment, recalling his favorite drug and the feeling of power it once gave him. The distant roar of the city, mixed with the shrieks of creatures, seemed to accompany his decision.
—Angel Dust… I'll call myself Angel Dust —he finally said, blending defiance with acceptance.
Valentino nodded, satisfied. Thus began the career of Angel Dust, who would become the brightest star in Hell's adult entertainment industry, surrounded by a world as cruel and decadent as the life he had left behind.
The End