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androgynoussublimeangel · 4 years

Text

The Price of Freedom (Chpt.1)

AO3

Summary:

Alastor isn't sure what's gotten into their resident drug-addicted pornstar but something is different about the determined set of his shoulders and a vengeful glint in his eyes. And just where does he keep slipping off to each day returning with more money than any prostitute could make in a single day.

Alastor is beginning to realize Angel Dust might not be the demon Alastor assumed him to be. And has he always had a trio of strange imps following him around?

But Alastor isn't one to miss out on what could prove to be some very promising entertainment.

Angel wanted his freedom. The freedom that Valentino had stolen before Angel even knew what freedom was. He’d spent his whole lifetime being trapped under someone else's control, first his father’s, then his drug dealers, then his clients. Now that he was dead he’d only traded one pair of shackles for another.

As long as Valentino had power, Angel knew he’d never have more than a gilded cage. And Angel was fucking tired of cages. But the overlord wasn’t going to just give up his throne willingly.

But Angel wasn't going to give up without a fight.

With a final horse scream, Angel toppled to the floor, pained tremors wracking his limp body. Flinching as Vox roughly tore his cords from the base of his skull. The TV demon carelessly kicking the prostitutes' prone form as he stepped over him. Angel could only moan softly in pain, his long limbs curling inwards cradling his still trembling body. Barely aware of the sound of the door opening behind him.

“Sorry for the wait Angel Cakes,” Valentino’s smoky voice prickled unpleasantly over Angel’s still pain addled consciousness. Angel blinked blurrily up at the looming figure of his pimp. “Just took Vox a lot longer to find what we were looking for in that empty fucking brain of yours. Don’t know how you find anything in there babe.” The other demons voice dripping with cruel amusement. Digging the toe of his shoe into Angel’s sore ribs. His sharp smile twisting as the pornstar whimpered, trying to wiggle away uselessly.

“Must be all that shit you’re always snorting, might wanna lay off the angel dust, sweetheart.”

Valentino laughed sadistically, sidestepping his employee’s crumpled body, striding towards his desk with Vox following close behind. The overlord settling into his overly luxurious chair, carved from ebony wood with gold inlays and lined with crimson velvet, auspicious enough to be called a throne.

Angel had always thought it looked less like a symbol of the overlord's power and more like he was overcompensating. Not that he ever dared share that with Valentino.

The pimp steepled his fingers together, propping his feet atop his enormous desk. The TV demon standing to Valentino left, screen flickering as a cruel grin warped his face. The lights leaking through the enormous penthouse windows haloing the overlords in neon colors.

“But Vox is the best at what he does,” Valentino smirked at his fellow overlord, the smirk growing wider as the other demon cackled in response. Angel tried to lift his head, weakly glaring at his boss, eyes still unfocused and vision blurring at the edges. Still fuzzy from Vox’s invasion of his mind.

“Come on Angie, baby, don’t be that way. You forced my hand sweetheart, I couldn’t trust you to remember to tell me everything.” The pimp scolded, voice thick with false sweetness. “Just like I’m sure it slipped your mind to mention your whole little “going-clean” schtick.” His smile dropping suddenly, eyes steely. “I don’t appreciate learning about my employee's apparent plans to quit from those fucking pigs running the news.”

Angel shuddering under the force of the overlord's anger, the air practically pulsating from the power exuding from the pimp. Forcing his aching body upright, legs still too weak to hold his weight. His lower set of arms wrapped protectively around his throbbing torso. Valentino’s enraged expression becoming pleased at the sight of Angel’s pained grimace. His face twisting into a pseudo-sweet smile.

“But you’re ain’t gonna quit are you, Angel?” The pimp crooned. Legs falling from his desk as he leaned forward in his chair. Propping his elbows on the desktop and hooking his chin on his intertwined fingers. Glowing red eyes watching the prostitute expectantly, dark promises flickering behind the tinted lenses of heart-shaped glasses. Angel swallowed back the disgust curling in his throat.

“No daddy.” He replied obediently. Eyes downcast and posture demure, the perfect picture of compliance.

“Good, good, we wouldn’t want to have to punish you again now would we.” Angel shook his head vehemently, ignoring the splitting headache pounding behind his eyes. Valentino hummed in satisfaction as he leaned back into the plush velvet lining his chair.

“Now,” The overlord purred, the tapping of his nails against the armrest of his chair deafening in the quiet room. “You wanna explain to me what all this ‘redemption’ bullshit is about?”

Angel didn’t reply. Refusing to look at the overlord.

Valentino sighed, rising smoothly to his feet, sauntering over to Angel’s kneeling form. Angel gazed up at the other man, fighting to not flinch away from the hand that began petting his hair. “How ‘bout I make this easier,”

The clawed hand that had been carding through his hair suddenly gripping a fistful of white locks. Angel winced as his head was yanked back, Valentino’s sharp teeth suddenly inches from his face. “What makes you think you’re even worthy of redemption?” The pimp growled, ignoring Angel uselessly clawing at the hand tangled in his hair.

“A stupid, worthless, whore like yourself, whose only redeeming quality is your cock-hungry holes.”

Angel averted his eyes, unable to hold Valentino’s hateful gaze as verbal poison spilled from the pimps lips. A sudden sharp grip on his chin wrenched his face forward, Valentino’s claws digging harshly into the soft flesh of Angel’s cheeks. The overlord forcibly lifting Angel’s body upwards with his tight grip. The pornstar whimpering but knowing better than to retaliate.

“You look me in the fucking eye when I’m talking to you!” Valentino snarled, eyes flashing before his expression relaxed, melting back into a saccharine sweet smile.

“You just can’t do anything right can you dollface?” A drop of blood sliding down Angel's cheek where Valentino’s claw pricked his cheek. “So fucking useless huh, that dumb royal bitch didn’t know what she was doing picking your pathetic ass to be a part of her stupid pet project.”

The bitter taste of copper filling Angel’s mouth as he bit harshly into his lip to stop himself from spitting in the overlord's face. Surprised by the force of his own anger as Valentino mocked Charlie’s dream. Girl was as naive as they came but she genuinely wanted to see the best in everyone, she truly believed demons could be redeemed. She believed Angel could be redeemed.

The overlord noticed the defiant spark in the pornstar's eyes, his grin growing sharper until he was baring his teeth more than he was smiling.

“Oh this is rich,” The pimp laughed through his teeth, still gripping Angel Dust’s hair. Valentino smirked over his shoulder at Vox, shaking Angel roughly by his hair. “This little bitch actually believes in this redemption shit.” Vox’s snickering joined Valentino’s own cruel chuckling.

“Let me make one thing clear, Angel.” Valentino’s voice dropped to a hiss, his face inches from Angel’s. Close enough that Angel could taste the other man’s alcohol tainted breath. “Even if redemption wasn’t a load of horseshit, you’d never have a chance in hell. You wanna know why angel cakes?”

The overlord drew back to his full height, sneering down his nose at Angel. “Cuz your nothing. You ain’t worth nothing to nobody. Even your own family down here doesn’t want you. The only reason you’re not dead in a fucking ditch is because of me.”

Angel winced as the nails pricking his cheeks dug deeper into the soft flesh. “Who do you belong to Angel cakes?”

“You.” Angel’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

“That’s right, and I’ve got your contract to prove it.” Valentino releasing his intense grip on both Angel’s face and hair sending the pornstar toppling to the floor again.

“Now get out, I’m sick of looking at your face.” The pimp spun on his heel, returning to his seat without a backward glance at the trembling demon struggling to stand. Angel tottered dangerously but managed to get his legs underneath himself, one arm still cradling his slowly mending ribs. Angel was half-way out the door hand hovering on the door handle when the sound of Valentino’s voice caused him to pause. “Oh, and Angel?”

Angel Dust glanced warily over his shoulder. “Next time, you answer me when I call, got it, babe?”

“Yes, boss.”

The door closed with a click.

Angel kept his head held high, marching to the elevator. The moment the doors slid closed behind him, Angel all but collapsed against them. Exhaling deeply, wincing as a sharp jab of pain from his protesting ribs, Angel groaned. Valentino had really put him through the wringer this time. Angel knew he’d be sore for weeks but the pimp always made sure he’d still be able to work. Never leaving an injury that couldn’t regenerate in a few hour's time. Didn’t want to damage the merchandise after all.

Mutilation wasn’t Val’s style anyway, the sadistic roach preferred to aim for where the skin was thinnest. He always knew which bruises to dig his fingers into. Valentino was equally as fond of emotional abuse as he was of inflicting physical pain. The pimp overlord was able to ascertain someone's most emotionally vulnerable cracks and once he did, he’d ruthlessly pry those cracks open until whatever was left was practically unrecognizable.

Angel moaned softly as the elevator jolted, his sore body complaining at the rough treatment. He silently willed it to descend faster, he was itching to get the hell out of there before he suffocated under the weight of Val's overwhelming presence.

This wasn’t his first time getting on his boss’s bad side. He’d seen the back of Valentino's hand more than once. It was rare if he was without a bruise or two, either from his clients or his pimp. It was one of the unfortunate side effects of being covered entirely in velvety fur. A lot easier to hide bruises, which Val seemed to take as a challenge.

Angel could handle pain, he even enjoyed it in the right scenarios. Even as Valentino’s punishments grew more and more brutal. Angel could handle him.

Vox was a different story.

Vox was the kind of demon Angel hated the most, though Valentino was a close second. He even preferred Alastor and his creepy smile over the TV demon. Despite Angel’s previous unawareness about the radio demon, Vaggie’s very vivid and detailed story of other demons ventures painted a clear picture.

Alastor was direct, merciless and efficient. Alastor slaughtered demons but his bloodlust was simple and honest. The radio demon even seemed to have some weird moral code about who he killed. Despite his terrifying abilities and rumored cannibalism, he wasn’t a mindless killer.

Unlike Vox and Valentino who enjoyed causing pain just for the sake of pain. Heedless of who they hurt as they made an overblown show of power through senseless and gratuitous killing.

Angel had always found Vox’s unique brand of torture was invasive, cowardly, and unrefined. The TV demon wielded the numerous cords connected to his body and at the slightest inclination could bury them deep in his victims' flesh. Vox’s powers granted him the ability to forcibly search someone's mind, which was painful in it itself. But he could also forcibly create a recurring nightmare of traumatic memories that played on a loop.

Angel had one of Vox’ victims who’d been plugged in for over a week, reliving their darkest moments again and again. They’d been barely more than an empty husk of a demon, eyes empty and blank, completely unresponsive. It had scared Angel badly enough at the time he’d behaved for an entire year.

This wasn’t even the first time Valentino had felt Angel’s disobedience merited Vox’s intervention, but it wasn’t usually as unbearable. Normally Angel was so strung out on whatever cocktail of drugs he was offered it was barely more than a, particularly bad nightmare. A bad dream that would be forgotten easily enough as soon as Angel Dust got his hands on more of his namesake.

But this time Angel had been completely stone-cold sober.

Each excruciating second had been in agonizing clarity. The feeling of Vox forcibly entering his mind had felt like his head was being split open from the inside and left his brain feeling like it’d been scraped raw with sandpaper. Painful memories lingering too close to the surface after being buried underneath the haze of drugs and sex for so long.

Angel shuddered, moments of his past life that he’d tried his best to forget flashing behind his eyelids. Shaking his head, trying to rid himself from the lingering horrors Vox dredged up from his own mind. He only succeeds in further agitating his throbbing headache.

The elevator dinged and Angel stumbled backward as the doors slid open. Catching himself on the wall with a groan, Angel whined unhappily as he clambered back to his feet. Brushing off imaginary dust from his jacket and smoothing back his hair, only for it to bounce forward again.

Beginning his trek down the hall, eyes brushing over familiar faces of other demons trapped underneath Valentino’s thumb. Some offered him sympathetic looks but otherwise didn’t approach. Angel couldn’t bring himself to be offended. After all, they all knew Valentino would only use it as an excuse to punish him again.

Angel took in the tired faces of all the demons that passed him, everyone looking a little worse for wear since he’d been here last. It had been a few days since he was released from house arrest, or would it be hotel arrest Angel wonders, after his little territorial genocide stint with Cherri. Charlie (only after Vaggie’s very loud protest) had insisted there be some kind of punishment for his actions. If it could be called that, Angel would take a few days of lazing around with his pig over Valentino’s punishment anytime.

Angel sure as hell didn’t believe in redemption or any of that “being a good person” bullshit Charlie was always trying to sell him. But looking at the haggard faces of the demons around him he felt a twinge of concern for them. They weren’t good people that was for damn sure but a lot of them weren’t exactly bad people either.

Angel huffed, cursing Charlie for infecting him with her mushy feelings and empathy. He shuddered just thinking the word. This would be so much easier drugged out of his mind and completely unaware of anything besides his own high.

Drawing closer to the rear exit of the studio Angel straightened his hunched posture, the ache in his ribs finally having subsided somewhat as the bones mended. It would ache like a bitch for a few days at least but nothing Angel wasn’t used too. He’d just have to avoid his left side when he was on the pole.

He exited the studio quickly, striding down the alleyway, eager to get as far away from the building as possible. He wanted to get back to the hotel, where he at least had a room that wasn’t monitored 24/7 and he didn’t have to worry about anyone trying to sell Fat Nuggets for drug money while he was gone.

He paused mid-step, eyes catching on a garishly colored image splashed across the alleyway wall. Angel glared up at, what was no doubt the work of one of Valentino’s, admittedly talented, goons. An enormous portrait of Valentino’s sleazy face splashed across the alley wall. It practically dwarfed him, nearly twice Angel’s height and wider than his arm span.

Standing there, glaring up at the pimps painted likeness. Skin tacky from the cold sweat drying on his skin, breathing slowly growing more ragged with each breath. Angel felt a powerful tidal wave of emotion well up inside him. All four of his hands curling tightly into fists, his claws digging painfully into his palms.

A sudden familiar, grating voice boomed over the loudspeaker causing Angel to jump in surprise. Grimacing in disgust as one of Valentino’s many degrading “reminders” that played on an hourly loop echoed through the studio, leaking into the alleyway.

“Remember to serve your customers with a smile, a happy customer is a paying customer. Now go out and make daddy his money you worthless whores.”

Valentino’s voice wrapping tightly around Angel, slowly constricting around him, squeezing the air from his lungs. Just another reminder of who he belonged to.

The thin thread of Angel’s temper finally snapped.

A loud crack reverberated through the alley. Angel’s fist burying itself in the brick wall, directly in the center of Valentino’s smarmy painted smile. Long, jagged cracks spidering across the surface obscuring the image of Valentino’s grinning face entirely.

Angel’s entire form trembled with rage, the fury burning inside him climbing higher and higher. A small flame of indignity that had spent centuries growing into a blazing inferno of hatred and savage determination.

As long as Valentino had power, Angel knew he’d never have more than a gilded cage. And Angel was fucking tired of cages. But the overlord wasn’t going to just give up his throne willingly.

Angel tugged his fist free from the brick and mortar wall, unflinching despite his now bloodied and broken knuckles. They would heal quickly enough anyway. Angel wanted his freedom, but there was only one way to get it. It wasn’t going to be easy, and Angel knew he might die trying, but he’d already made up his mind. A sharp, determined grin spread across Angel Dust’s lips.

He was going to kill Valentino.

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