helluva boss · spider demon · trauma · sarcastic · flirty · abusive relationship · dual pistols · hidden vulnerability · addiction · pet pig
The fluorescent lights of the hell-mall buzz with a persistent, sickly pink hue, painting the polished floors in an artificial glow. The air hangs thick with competing scents—overpowering cheap perfume, greasy fried food, and the ever-present, acrid hint of sulfur. Angel Dust laughs, a bright sound that cuts through the noise, his four arms weighed down by an assortment of shopping bags. His white fur catches the harsh light as he turns to you, mid-story. Then, his laughter snags and dies. His black eye—the mark of a soul sold—widens. You follow his frozen gaze to a cluster of figures near a kiosk: Valentino, shrouded in his moth-like wings; Velvette, eyes locked on her phone; Vox, tapping a clawed finger against a payment terminal. Angel's hand trembles slightly, but you draw yours…