The trek back to the hotel was a long walk. The taxis fair wasn't an issue, but after the… Well, to not call it a disaster would to be a lie. Right, after that disaster of a meeting Adam needed an hour alone in his thoughts, especially after he mailed the missive to Trench. By this time tomorrow it will have been all over the news, and everyone was going to be in a panic prepping for another extermination half a year early. Panic buying up their supplies. Adam sighed and made a mental note to get some bread, milk and plenty of toilet paper.
"Seriously, why is it always bread, milk, and toilet paper everyone buys up when there's a looming disaster?"
Further musing was interrupted as Adam passed by a construction site. Every year, on top of killing any sinner not in a bunker or basement, some exorcists also found it fun to destroy everything they felt they could get away with, which usually added to the kill count, given the usual targets. For weeks after each E-Day, Hell was gridlocked with construction work, making the Hell that was traffic in Hell even… More Hellish. And every day of those weeks the roads were filled with the sounds of construction.
CRACK!
"AUUGGGHH!!"
And the 'choir' of the poor lost souls enslaved in the employ of whichever Overlord was Voluntold to be in charge of repairs. And among the cracks of whips and screams, there was often a song or three, spawned from the misery of the souls at work.
Ahhh-AH
Ahhh-AH
Ahhh-AH Ah Ah-ah-ah
As was the case more often than not, the work music was from the heart and new, like so much spontaneous music was, away from the physical realm of Earth. But the souls were once men and women, from all walks of life. Which meant Theater kids, and some songs were just too perfect
not to be adopted as some sort of official soundtrack.
Look Down [CRACK!]
Look Down [CRACK!]
Don't look 'em in the eye
Look Down [CRACK!]
Look Down [CRACK!]
You're here until you die
Adam paused, and did as bid, looking down into the great crater, watching a now exposed subway tunnel was being repaired, looking at the souls, his multi-great grandsons and granddaughters. How many centuries after Hell had been emptied that one day had it been, since he stopped seeing the suffering, stopped seeing souls like these as his own? Was it the first time he despaired to the point of being an Overlord himself? Or the second?
A soul that had taken an aquatic form paused to wipe his brow, looking absolutely miserable.
The sun is strong
It's hot as Hell below
And the chorus replied.
Look Down [CRACK!]
Look Down [CRACK!]
It's Eternity to go
The next to be compelled to sing out was a soul with rainbow dyed hair, wearing a shirt with a shirt that spelled out some political movement or another.
I've done no wrong
Sweet Jesus hear my prayer!
And the chorus replied.
Look Down [CRACK!]
Look Down [CRACK!]
Sweet Jesus doesn't care.
Adam looked elsewhere, seeing a soul that had taken the form of a corpulent turtle, overly burdened by a load of bricks, steel rails, and cement bags.
I know she'll wait
I know that she'll be true!
And was then crushed to a bloody smear under the mass while the chorus replied.
Look Down [CRACK!]
Look Down [CRACK!]
They've all forgotten you
One of the slave driver souls above, a huge bulk of a man, twisted the whip in hand hatefully
When I get free
You won't see me
Here! But! Dust!
Look Down [CRACK!]
Look Down [CRACK!]
Don't look 'em in the eye
The last was a birdman, in tattered priest robes.
How Long
O Lord?
Before you let me die?
Adam could no longer stomach the sight, and proceeded to continue his trek to the hotel.
Look Down [CRACK!]
Look Down [CRACK!]
You'll always be a slave
Look Down [CRACK!]
Look Down [CRACK!]
You're standing in your grave…
After stopped at the store, and taking note of how few of the staff were at work today, and picking up the items he noted earlier, Adam finally made it to the Hotel. What he found wasn't chaos, but it was clearly coming, going by the aggravated expression on the pale woman's face, tinkering with the prosthetic arm in her lap.
"What happened Lute?"
The woman looked up, and once again he noticed the range of expressions on her face as she looked up, ranging first from surprise and other expressions before settling on frustration.
"Your new PR Manager is trying to film that commercial," she said as she slipped the arm onto her stump.
For a brief second Adam again pitied the poor sinner's bad luck to have died on the same day as Extermination Day, but brushed it off.
"Right, I asked you guys to work on that when I went to the Embassy…" he sighed, "What did he do?"
Lute scoffed.
"You mean other than ignore my input for the script? Or spend most of the runtime taking shots at the VAV? Or go beyond 'Sex Sells' and rocket straight to Sexploitation?"
Adam felt his eyebrow twitch, but sighed and handed Lute the sack of groceries. The First Man then marched up to the front doors of the hotel, took a deep breath, and shoved them open with a bang. Sure enough, the blank television screen that was the Public Relations and Hiring Manager for the Hotel was sitting in a director's chair, with a beret on his TV head, and a megaphone in his grip, and in front of the camera the lobby couch had been moved in front of the fireplace and was surrounded by spotlights, and sitting on it was Cherri Bomb, with arms crossed over her bust and her eye showing her to be only a few poorly chosen words away from blowing up.
"Listen, it's not like I'm asking you to go all out, I just need you to show enough your fans know it's you!"
"That's what my
face is for you fucking prick!"
At the bar, Husk watched with three parts disinterest and one part amusement, cleaning a glass but doing nothing. Of course.
"Cherri. Vox. The fuck."
And like that the tension in the room was broken as the sinner and ex-overlord turned to see Adam and Lute at the door.
"Finally, took ya long enough to make it home 'Daddy,'" the pornstar said sarcastically.
"Don't call me that," Adam said offhandedly, more by habit than anything, "Lute tells my you guys have hit a struck a snag in the filming." It was a charitable interpretation of what she
actually said, but Adam was trying to build an environment of charity, given the project's mission statement.
"Oh is that right?!" Cherri Bomb groused, pointing an accusational finger at the TV-Headed sinner behand the camera, "
This Fucker wants me to whip out m' tits for the full thing!"
Adam turned his gaze to Vox, leveling all the Fatherly Disapproval of a man who had existed for all his 10,000 years of experience into it. Sadly, Vox had no shame at all. His blank screen showed no expression, but his relaxed pose and shrug of his shoulders showed all the disdain he needed to.
"What can I say Adam? Sex Sells. If you want to see this place flourish you need folks to get interested, and with the hottest piece of Ass in Hell that's not a Succubus staying here, you need to milk her for all she's worth."
"Right! Why didn't I think of that? Let me just get back from a 12 hour shift getting railed for the camera and spend another six hours doing it all over again!"
"Oh quit Bitching woman, I'm asking you to show off your money makers and shake them a bit."
"And I'm telling you that's bullshit!"
And with a growl the lights flickered, cutting off the argument as the two sinners looked back to Adam, whose golden eyes returned to normal with the lights returning.
"So. Cherri. Hypothetically. If we went with this idea of Vox's, where the tv commercial is basically softcore Not-A-Porn, how would Valentino react?"
"Uh… Well for one thing he'd be fucking pissed…" Then what Adam was driving at dawned on her, "because it would be a breach of contract! We'd get crushed by lawyers!"
Adam made a show of exaggerated shock at that.
"Oh my word, you are so right Cherri Bomb! That would destroy us!" and like that the sarcasm went away and Adam leveled a stern expression to the TV Demon, "Vox, I told you that the only reason I agreed to go along with your idea of a TV AD campaign – as opposed to the way cheaper radio ads – was because you promised you could leverage your connections to maximize coverage. Also, Lute tells me you took her script and threw it in the trash?"
The TV Demon scoffed and stood up, walking over to the bar to help himself to a beer – To Husker's clear irritation.
"Please, don't make me laugh. That wasn't a script, it was a farce – and not a good one. No, someone with actual talent and a knowledge of how the advertisement game is played needs to put together a script that will work."
"Uh-huh, well there are more dramatic ways of submitting your resignation I'll give you that."
"Yeah I
am pretty… Wait uh?"
Adam smirked at the ex-overlord's confusion, while to the side Cherri and Husk looked on with more blatant schadenfreude, the former enjoying a snack from the pretzel bowl.
"Well, I know you hate that Alastor took your spot, and that there's no love lost between you two, and the other two members of VAV, so I understand why you would want to get the Hotel's advertisement campaign coverage out from under their influence. But between trying to get us in legal troubles and planning to blow our advertising budget for the year on one commercial, its pretty clear you
don't want to make a commercial at all."
"Now hold on-!" Vox tried to interject, his normally blank dead screen flickering with a flash of glitching, flashing blue, and a hint of a rotting face.
"And for the script not being something you say will work? Sounds like a skill issue. Suck's to suck bro, I guess we're going back to the radio campa-"
"Woah woah woah!" Vox said, suddenly very much the very image of servile, "l-let's not get hasty! I-I mean, I… I
suppose I can… Take another look at Lute's script…?"
Adam smiled, and patted Vox on the shoulder.
"Thank you, Vox. The Hotel is all about new beginnings, and finding the good in each soul. And that counts for you too. Be a real shame if we're successful in redemption, and you get stuck here because of how you helped us succeed."
The TV Demon grumbled, but pulled out Lute's script from the trash and sat on the couch to read it over again. Cherri Bomb laughed and went up to her room, while Adam and Husk shared a smug smirk at Vox's expense. Crisis averted; Adam walked to the kitchen where Lute had been putting away the groceries he bought.
"Agh! Fuck!"
Correction. Lute had been
trying to put away the grocerys. And now her fourth-hand prosthetic had jammed again, while in the middle of opening or closing the cabinet door. And now the hand had dug into the wood of the door and she was stuck, tugging fruitlessly against the hand that suddenly decided it needed to make a deathgrip. The poor woman pulled harder and harder, and Adam was about to help when… Well, either the hand forced through a full power grip, or the wood just gave way, or both, and Lute fell back in surprise. Adam rushed over and caught her, his arms around the smaller sinner's waist.
"You okay?"
Lute didn't answer with words, just with a wordless hum of affirmative. Adam couldn't see her face, but she tended to get a blush whenever this sort of thing happened. The First Man smirked and squeezed her tighter, eliciting a panicked
squeak from the sinner woman.
"If you wanted me to hold you, you need only ask."
To his amusement the poor lost human soul jumped out of his hold and, face red like an apple's, and let out a stream of words that were rather inarticulate, trying to tell him she didn't want what he implied, but also that she didn't think him repulsive, nor that it was an invitation. It was cute, though the picture was ruined by her prosthetic arm being stuck in position. Taking pity on Lute, Adam gently took the prosthetic in hand and guided Lute to the table. He pulled out the screwdriver from his pocket and pried off the covering of the mechanism in the forearm and started unjamming the clockwork mechanisms, cleaning more of the gunk that had worked itself out from deeper in the machinery, and applied fresh lubricant. The pair moved into comfortable silence as Adam worked, first relaxing the hand, loosening the wrist, and then restoring movement to the elbow. Finally, Lute broached the elephant in the room.
"How did you meeting go? I admit I was surprised you could send a message to get them to give you the time of day."
"Eh, God's invite upstairs is still good, since I was here before the Resurrection. So some poor receptionist is waiting for me to call for a pickup. Helps get me the option to arrange an audience without relying on Hell's bureaucracy. As for the meeting… Well, the Head Exorcist, Vajie or Vaggie or whatever," under the table Lute's remaining natural hand clenched, "wasn't all that enthusiastic. She was more than willing to let the Head Prosecutor speak for her. And isn't that insane. Get this, Lucifer and Lilith reproduced, and not only is that brat somehow allowed into Heaven, but she has Lucifer's first job as The Accuser."
Unseen by Adam, being focused on his work, Lute's expression became one of panic, guilt, and distress.
"That's… Really weird…" she managed to get out.
"I know right! I mean, with some thought I guess since she's not one of
my descendants, I guess it works? But still its…" Adam sighed, "It's also not the important thing."
"Heaven isn't going to back our hotel? God has truly abandoned us…"
Adam paused and looked into Lute's eyes, seeing the depression there, and sighed.
"It was always a long shot. However, I don't think they bothered to tell Him in the first place. The buck seemed to go no further than the Morningstar brat. But it gets worse… Extermination Day is going to be twice a year now. Next E-Day is in six months."
Lute gasped, shock clear on her face.
"They-! They can't do that! The Annual Extermination is more than enough for population control-! Or, so I understand. God can't have signed off on it, He hates it enough as is, he would never…!"
Adam looked to Lute, confusion clear on his face. Horror plastered all over hers.
"What do you mean by…?"
"So, Heaven isn't willing to play ball, eh? Or Middle Management is being obstructionist at least."
At the Kitchen door, Vox was leaning against the doorframe, Lute's script and a pen in hand. His TV Screen face was, as always, black, dead, but his body language oozed a smug smarm.
"Sounds to me like you need to try the other end. See if Hell can help you with showing these background characters the door, forcing the issue."
Adam looked from Vox to Lute – who suddenly seemed unable to meet his gaze again – and back to Vox.
"And how do you expect to pull that off?"
The TV Demon buffed his nails on his white shirt.
"Oh, I have a
few strings left to pull. A few favors left in the rolodex. Before Vel and Val
raw fucked my ass to get Al on the team, I managed to make friends right at the top… Someone you know well, almost Biblically."
'He can not mean…!'
"Someone like… Lilith?"
"ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT!"
Adam and Vox looked to Lute in mutual expressions of shock at the sinner woman's expression of utter rage. A sort of anger that transcended mere rage and entered the Halls of RAEG.
"…"
"What was that yellin' about bro?"
Aaaannnnnnd now Cherri was in the conversation. And going by the laughter coming from the lobby, Husk heard it all. Great.
"Oh nothing," Vox said nonchalantly, "I just mentioned Adam may need to go crawling back to his first wife for help with the Hotel, nothing big."
"First Wife..? Oh, Lilith!" Cheri said with a laugh, "wasn't she the one you divorced because she wanted to Top? HA! What, you got something against watching the tits bounce Adam?"
The First Man growled, and gold smoke puffed out of his mouth.
"Of-fucking-course
that's the interpretation that went down the centuries. If you
must know," Adam replied with contained vitriol, "the last time Lilith and I talked in Eden, she was screaming at me about being a bad husband because
I wouldn't let
her shove
a banana up my ass!"
"…"
Husk's laughter once again echoed from the lobby, and unnoticed by the rest there, Lute pulled out a little black notebook and pen and made a quick note to her list of-
"And
fuck you, I don't
do butt stuff. You know why?
Because I KNOW WHAT COMES OUT OF THERE!"
Cherri Bomb, to her credit, looked absolutely guilty, covering her mouth and moving her eye left and right.
"…You know what? Personal experience talking? Fair. …Um. I should, go? Yeah, Valentino's got my fully booked for tomorrow sooooo…. G'night!"
The room grew quiet as the one actual guest at the hotel ran off. Finally, Vox coughed to get the conversation back on the rails.
"Yeah, dealing with Ex's will never be fun. Especially when the Ex is super successful and wealthy and you-"
"Watch it."
"…Aren't. However. She
does hold the title of Queen of Hell, with all the soft power and hard authority that comes with it. Such as having
Lucifer's ear. If you can find a way to convince her that this utter shitshow is worthwhile,
she will be able to find a way to help, perhaps even get her husband to help."
"Yeah," Lute said, dripping with sarcasm, "because having The Original Sinner get his grubby little mitts in this plan to get rid of his subjects is a
grand idea."
If Vox was perturbed, there was no way to tell, not even his body language suggested anything. The only thing the TV Demon did was pull out an old flip phone, and offered it to Adam.
A specific phone number was on it.
"And yes, when you offered to Angels, you were turned down. No, 'turned down' implies a polite 'no' and a handshake. You got an announcement of increased exterminations out of it. So. You can either man up and ask help from the Ex, or sit down and watch your children die…"
Adam stared at the device, gears visibly turning behind his eyes as he went over the options. Lute put a comforting hand on his shoulder, her face showing her doubts, but she nodded nonetheless. With clear reluctance, Adam reached for the phone, only to be interrupted by the sound of some sort of abomination crawling through the vents, and then the vent grate fell open, showing the cyclops face of their smallest member of staff, her pupil the size of a pinprick and giggling in an unnerving fashion. And the large mouse – no, scratch that, that was a juvenile rat – sitting dead in her teeth didn't help.
"…Nifty?" Lute asked, "What are you doing in there?"
The deranged little gremlin was silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, then giggled manically.
"Eh-hehehehehehehe!! Tic-Tok Mrs. Frisby! Timmy's dead, how long before your other children are found?"
And with further manic giggling the little….
Thing scrambled back into the vents. This left the other sinners in the room to (presumably in Vox' case) to stare at the vent with nervous expressions. After a pregnant pause Adam swiped the phone from Vox' hand.
"Right let's just ignore that."
------
In a dimly lit room, a telephone rang, and a dainty hand answered.
"Hello, yes… Adam? Adam! What a delight. …Yes, yes it has been some time. September 1939 I believe, I was representing the Royal House at the Ball you and the other Overlords threw in celebration of the start of a new war. …Oh I see, a new project? …Ah, redeeming souls? Adam I- Oh I see… Help you with redemption… Adam you
do understand how awkward a position this would put Lucifer in if he were to play along with this farce. …Need me? Well… Well I suppose I can visit… I need to check my schedule, but I think I can visit… The day after tomorrow? Wonderful. Ta-Ta!"
The Dainty hand put the phone back in its cradle, and the dark room was silent as a tomb for a long time…
"WOO-HOO! ~My Ex Wants me BAA~AAACK! Take
THAT depression!"