Chapter Text
The Game.
...What the fuck.
Those three words rang through Alastor's mind as he stared down at the cards.
How did he lose? How? He made sure everything would work in his favor. He bribed the card dealer to specifically deal Husk the worst cards possible. He played a good poker face. He sent his shadow to spy on the cat's gameplay, in case Husk cheated.
But, no, apparently, all that wasn't enough. If his full house vs Husk's royal flush was anything to go by.
He recalled just minutes earlier how cocky both of them were.
Husk guffawed. Inside the cat's office at his most famous casino, The Lucky Cat, he and a certain deer were having a heavy debate over who was the better gambler. The mahogany wooden table suffered some pounding from his fist as he cackled.
"Okay, then, Bambi. You think you're much better than me? The Gambling Cat?"
Alastor nodded curtly. His smile seemed set and determined.
"Why, yes! In fact, how about we make a deal?"
The cat was about to take a swig of whiskey before stopping himself. Deals were essential to him, and every other Overlord as well. And this cocky deer thinks he can do much better in his domain?
"...What is it?"
"We play a match, or matches, if you prefer. Whoever wins gets the other's soul, and all his properties."
Husk's eyes widened. This deal was risky. Common sense told him to reject it. If he lost, he'd lose everything he worked for. His resorts, his bars, his casinos... his empire.
But there was no doubt the deal seemed appealing. Alastor was powerful and feared. Taking down an Overlord who took down other Overlords meant glory, respect, and fame.
He smoked a drag, inhaled the fumes, and faced the deer. The latter didn't seem to be any bit nervous or concerned about his proposal. As if that by the end of it all, he would come out victorious. As if he knew that in advance.
"...I accept."
The deer's eyes brightened, his smile growing wider 'til it reached his ears. He quickly stood up from the plush leather chair, extending his hand.
"Ohoho, splendid choice, my dear! I trust you will not back out of this as we play..."
Husk narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the deer. Finally, he took his hand and shook it.
"Oh, I won't."
And, now, Alastor was looking down at the turned-over cards. He lost. He dared not make eye contact with the cat across him, who was grinning. Just as wide as he was just minutes earlier. Alastor's own smile was crooked.
"H-how-"
"You thought you could cheat, huh? I saw you pay that little bastard dealer before you came up to my office."
Husk sighed in some comedic tone. Yeah, he was cocky, but he was observant. If someone tried to cheat him, he cheated back. What goes around, comes around, after all.
Alastor nearly wanted to break down in anger, flip the table, and release a slew of slurs, insults, and profanities. But the last thing he wanted was give Husk the satisfaction.
Husk summoned up the contract. A golden contract with too many terms and conditions for Alastor to count at one glance, but all he looked at was the blank space at the bottom of the contract.
This contract states that the signatory below fully consents to being under the ownership of Timothy "Husker" Nox, and that their soul is theirs. Signed, _______.
Husk pointed at the blank.
"All you gotta do is sign here now, dear, and we can finish this."
Alastor wracked his brain for anything, anything, that he could try to do in order not to sign that contract. Maybe if he asked for another round? Maybe if he said that they'll discuss the terms of this over drinks, and hope that Husk got drunk enough to forget this, like he normally does. Maybe if he turned into his full demon phase, trash the place, and wreck it just enough for Husk to allow him to go home. Or better yet, what if he killed Husk right then and there.
But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to do any of those. Amidst the clinking of chips, the sounds of gambling machines having their levers pulled, chattering, laughing, toasting, and the occasional scream of frustration from someone who lost, he just stood still. His eyes darted around for an exit, but a sea of sinners had already formed around the table, all murmuring to each other and eyeing Alastor, waiting for his next move. They, like him, were in shock that Alastor had been defeated and now sold off to another Overlord.
Husk patiently tapped his foot, a grin on his face that never left for as long as he held the contract up.
"I'm waiting, deer."
With nowhere else to turn that didn't make him look weak, Alastor sighed under his breath, picking up a pen, and very slowly, wrote down his name on the space.
"Signed, Alfred Green."
The second Alastor wrote down his name, a sickening yellow aura filled the room, emanating from the cat. Husk cackled as his eyes turned into yellow spades, and he flew up. Alastor's own aura turned from a neon green to a more golden hue. A hue that shouldn't have been around him. It sickened him.
Husk owned Alastor now. And he was gonna have so much fun with his newest... addition.
"And that's another soul for me!"
Husk gleefully added a new card to his deck of soul cards. It was some bull demon who tried to rough him up after he lost. Good thing he taught him his lesson, this suit was new and snazzy!
He snapped his fingers repeatedly. And rather obnoxiously.
"Alastor! Get me a whiskey, double shots, on the rocks."
The deer groaned. Ever since his loss, he had been stripped of his influence and fortune. His clothes, which were once an almost entirely red suit, were now a white long-sleeve shirt, black pants, a black vest, and a golden bowtie. His radio show, which trademarked him as the Radio Demon, had been cancelled per the contract, and instead, was replaced with, in his opinion, a juvenile broadcast. His powers, while existent, were mostly stripped and weakened.
The only thing Alastor was grateful for was not being put into Husk's soul cards. Husk had apparently taken a liking to him, and to commemorate his victory over the once-elusive Radio Demon, kept him fully alive and intact. Yet, with how he was treated, Alastor would rather have been put in that deck. He had become somewhat of an "assistant" to Husk, though he'd rather use slave, considering all he really did was accompany Husk to soul games, get him everything he wanted, and watch as other poor sinners ended up Husk's, just like him.
Husk snapped again.
"Alastor! Did you hear me? Whiskey, double shots, on the rocks!"
Alastor groaned. The bar was so close to him! It took just a few seconds to get up and get his drink himself. He murmured under his breath.
"Why don't you get it, you overweight feline..."
Suddenly, a chain formed around his neck and he was brought down to the ground, hitting the carpeted floor with a thud and an oof. He groaned and looked up. Husk was looking down at him, clear disdain on his face.
"What. Did you say?"
"N-nothing-"
Alastor attempted to get up, but Husk had pushed him down with his foot on his head. Alastor choked.
:"Let me remind you that you are under me from the contract of the deal you proposed. You do what I say, no questions. And don't think you're so lucky because you're the only soul I have that's still in their body. if I hear some shit like that ever again, I will not hesitate to tear you apart and treat you like the rest."
Husk took a blank card, a card where souls he gained would go to. He waved in front of Alastor's eyes. The image of a red deer with radio signals burned into the card. Alastor's eyes widened.
"Do I make myself clear?"
Alastor nodded. The image faded away as Husk took it back and put it in a deck. He released Alastor from his grip, and the deer scurried back up to his feet.
"Good. Now go get me my drink."
"...Yeah, yeah."
"Ahem?"
"Yes, I will... Master."
Alastor gritted that last part, walking away to the 5-foot-away bar. Husk grumbled. Alastor was plenty disrespectful today. He took his staff, a long black rod with golden dice at its tip, and walked back up to his office, deciding to be petty and not bothering to wait for Alastor, who was understandably infuriated after he came back to find his master gone.
In his office, Husk sat down on a plush couch, taking a drag of his cigarette, tapping it into the ashtray beside him. He sighed, looking around his opulent office. A chandelier hung from the ceiling. Lights shone bright. On the wall were paintings and pictures of him or his casinos. On a shelf were some books, other junk, and trophies that he had won for how incredible he was. His floor was carpeted with the most velvety purple he could find. Behind his desk was a window covered in curtains that, if he was bored, he could look down at the workings of his casino and admire how successful he had become in Hell. On the mahogany desk was a letter he was going to send to a certain singer best friend. [4]
He made it.
He got to where everybody wanted to get to.
But for some reason, he felt bored.
Bored out of his mind.
He questioned it.
People always called him lucky. A star. That nothing was missing in his life other than a romance, which Husk thought was stupid. [6]
So why was he so bored?
He took a remote and turned on his TV, not sponsored by VoxTek. Maybe he just needed to take a break from business and Overlord stuff.
Five minutes later, he was proving himself to be bored again.
He flew through channel after channel. There were movies. There were reality shows. There were snuff films. There were pornos. Everything he could possibly think of to watch was there, broadcasted for all of Hell to enjoy. Yet, he felt bored. No matter how many times he pressed the next button, nothing ever entertained him.
Husk was about to give up and just sleep when he managed to stumble upon 666 News. Not his choice of news source, but at the moment, Katie Killjoy had been interviewing... was that... Charlie Morningstar?
Husk put down his remote and watched intently. The princess of Hell was on 666 News...
"So, Charlotte."
"It's... Charlie."
"Whatever. Tell us about this new passion project you've been insistingly pestering our news station on about!"
"Well..., as most of you know, I was born here in Hell and growing up, I always tried to see the good in everyone around me. Hell is my home and you are my people. We... we just went through another Extermination. We lost so many souls, and it breaks my heart to see my people being slaughtered every year. No one is even given a chance!"
Husk yawned. They always say that and then do nothing to try. Not that he cared about those weaklings. As long as he was safe, he was happy. Husk got up and opened up a large display of red wine bottles. Tracing his finger across them, he settled on a good bottle of Shiraz, uncorking it and pouring it into a glass. He toasted to non-existent friends and downed the glass.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm opening the first of its kind! A hotel that rehabilitates sinners!"
Immediately, Husk spat out the wine, staining it on himself and the marbled walls. Setting down his glass, he ran back over to the couch.
"Y'know? 'Cause hotels are for people passin' through... temporarily..."
There was no doubt that Charlie was losing her confidence. Obviously, most demons wouldn't believe in it, thinking of it as baloney. He thought it was baloney.
But there was a certain intrigue that washed over Husk. A hotel, owned by the princess of Hell herself, for rehabilitation. Stupid idea, but what if it worked?
As whatever shit went down in the studio, Husk thought to himself.
Sponsors and connections were definitely lacking for this project, and with this public announcement, potential contractors were greatly reduced for the princess and her staff, meaning the road to that hotel was clearer than a bright sunny day. Getting on the princess's good side meant much more power and influence for Husk. If his casinos were great, he could make them legendary with this partnership. Plus, if that kid's crazy concept somehow worked, he'd be gaining front seats and premium access to what might turn all of Creation around.
Of course, people would call him idiotic for working with the princess. Maybe lose some patrons and be branded as a "Heaven-loving" sinner.
It was a risk.
And when have risks never worked out for Timothy "Husker" Nox, the Gambling Overlord?
Alastor groaned as he wiped down yet another table. These people had no class! The usual maid had gotten injured, so he was forced to clean up after their messes, which included disinfecting furniture, machines, and for some reason, even plants, of spilled alcohol, gum, and... suspicious white stuff.
As soon as he finished, he lied down on a booth. He looked around. Nearly no one in this area, staff or customers alike.
Maybe if he took a little nap-
"ALASTOR!"
Ah, fuck.
Alastor sat up immediately. Husk had suddenly appeared by his booth, hands on his hips.
"Why are you slacking?"
"Er-"
"No time for your excuses! I'm headed out."
Alastor softly groaned as he got up. He dusted himself off and prepared to accompany his master when Husk put a paw in front of him, signaling to stop.
"Oh, no, no. You're staying here."
Alastor blinked a bit, but his eyes still sparkled. He... didn't need to go out with him for once?
"I am?"
"Yes! We need someone to stay back to manage all this."
"I'm quite surprised you trust me enough for this."
"Well, you are my assistant. Just keep everything in tip-top shape while I'm out. Cheers!"
Husk took his staff and walked out the front doors of the casino. Alastor stood there in silence. He was in charge of the casino for the time being. For the first time in decades, he felt some form of power and control over others.
He looked at the casino staff, who all seemed to know what they were doing. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to try to... revive his broadcast.
Alastor walked down some hallways to a storage room, unlocking it with a spare key. Inside were some piles of garbage that were either useless to Husk or too big to be put on display in the main lobby. After throwing aside some objects, from a trophy to neon lights, Alastor found it. A black staff with a red microphone-esque object on its end.
Grabbing it with glee, he bolted out the front door and ran.