[Scene: At the Hazbin Hotel...]
A sharp inhale.
Husk's eyes snapped open.
"…gh—"
Pain slammed into him all at once.
His head throbbed like it had been split open, his vision swimming as he pushed himself up from the shattered remains of the bar. Glass crunched beneath his hand. The familiar smell of liquor was drowned out by something far worse. Smoke. Burnt wood. Burnt everything. His ears flattened instantly. "…the hell…" Husk winced, dragging himself upright, one hand clutching his head. The room—or what was left of it—tilted slightly as he staggered forward. Outside, there was screaming. Distant explosions. Chaos. Husk's breath hitched. "Charlie?" he called, voice rough. "Vaggie?!"
No answer.
His chest tightened. "Angel? Niffty?!"
Silence. Only the distant sounds of destruction answered him. Husk swallowed hard, forcing himself forward, stepping over broken beams, shattered bottles, fragments of everything that used to be something. "C'mon…" he muttered. "Don't do this…" He stopped. His body froze. "…no."
Angel Dust was slumped against the far wall. The white of his fur was scorched, patches of it blackened from the blast. His clothes were burnt through in places, the fabric torn and singed. His head tilted down.
Husk's ears pinned back hard. "…Angel…?"
His voice cracked.
He stumbled forward, faster now, panic creeping in. "No, no, no—hey!"
He dropped to his knees in front of him, hands grabbing Angel's shoulders, shaking him.
"Angel! Come on, man. Wake up! This isn't fuckin' funny!"
Nothing.
Husk shook him harder. "Angel—?!"
Still nothing. No smirk. No snarky comeback. No jump scare to reveal that this was all just a fucking prank of his. Just, silence.
Husk's mouth trembled. His hands slowed. "…no…"
His voice dropped to something small.
Something broken.
"No, no, no, no—this can't be happening…"
He leaned closer, like maybe, maybe, there'd be a breath he missed. There wasn't.
"…Angel…"
His grip faltered. "…baby…"
The word slipped out before he could stop it. And that was it.
Husk's head dropped as his fist slammed into the floor with a crack, glass shifting beneath it. "DAMN IT!"
His voice cracked with it.
Anger.
Grief.
Too much of both.
His shoulders shook as he fought it—fought the tears, fought the reality clawing its way in. But it didn't stop. It didn't care. Angel wasn't getting up. Angel wasn't joking. Angel wasn't...alive.
"…Angel?"
The voice was small.
Thin.
Shaking.
Husk froze.
Slowly—
He turned.
Niffty stood in the open entrance.
Her usual frantic energy was gone.
Completely. Her wide eye was locked onto the scene in front of her.
"…no…" Her voice trembled. "No, no, no, no!"
"No, no, no, no!"
She took a step forward.
Husk quickly moved. Before she could get closer.
Before she could see more.
Before it could hit her the way it had hit him.
He swept her up in one motion, pulling her against him, lifting her onto his shoulder.
"H-Hey!" Niffty struggled, reaching out desperately. "Angel! Angel!"
"Don't!" Husk snapped, his voice breaking, tightening his grip around her. "Don't look, Niffty!"
"But he—he needs—!"
Husk's wings snapped open. Wide. Powerful. Shaking.
"Come on…" he said, voice hoarse, barely holding together. "We, we got to find the others…"
Niffty cried out, still reaching, her small hands stretching desperately toward Angel Dust's still form. "Angel! ANGEL! No! Let me go! I have to... Angel! Angel!'' But the distance grew between them. Husk launched into the air, carrying her with him as the ruined hotel shrank beneath them. The wind tore at them.
And behind them—Angel Dust remained. Still. Alone. Husk didn't look back. He couldn't. But his grip tightened around Niffty as her cries broke into sobs against his shoulder. And for the first time in a long, long time....
Husk let the tears fall.
[Scene: Alastor vs Doom....]
Pentagram City was no longer a city.
Buildings burned in uneven rows, their neon signs flickering like dying heartbeats. Cars lay overturned, crushed into the pavement or still smoking from fresh impact.
Doctor Doom moved at a steady, unhurried pace down the fractured street, his cloak dragging behind him. Each step rang softly against the asphalt, deliberate, measured as if the chaos around him simply… did not matter. Sinners hid. Behind broken vehicles. Beneath collapsed storefronts. Pressed against walls, holding their breath like prey hoping not to be seen.
None dared move.
None dared to speak.
In the distance, Doom Sentinels continued their work—mechanical whirs, bursts of red energy, the faint echo of screams that didn't last long enough. Doom stopped.
Slowly, he lifted his head. A streetlight above flickered erratically, buzzing with unstable energy. Its glow pulsed once… twice…
Then, it died.
Darkness swallowed it. And from that darkness, a shape formed.
Tall.
Slender.
Smiling.
"Well, well, well…"
Alastor stepped out from the dead light, as if reality itself had peeled open to let him through. His grin was wide as ever, his posture relaxed, almost casual, despite the devastation around them. "If it isn't the intruder himself," he continued, tapping his cane lightly against the ground. "I must say, you made quite the grand entrance back there."
His eyes gleamed faintly. "I almost want to congratulate you. It is rather charming to see such a random sinner have such an ego....''
"But I am afraid," Alastor added, tilting his head, grin widening, "your overconfidence in taking over this realm has reached its rather inadequate conclusion."
He leaned forward slightly, voice dipping into something sharper.
"Now then—would you prefer that I broadcast your defeat across all of Hell in AM…"
"…or FM?"
Doom did not respond. But his gaze sharpened.
His gauntlets began activation....
"Ah," Alastor hummed. "Now that, is more like it...."
The ground beneath him split. Black, writhing tentacles erupted upward in a violent surge, snapping forward with monstrous speed—twisting, lashing, reaching for Doom with overwhelming force.
The shadows themselves seemed to bend toward Alastor's will—
And then, they stopped. Frozen. Mid-strike. Doom didn't move. Didn't flinch.
The tentacles trembled in place, held, restrained by something unseen. Something absolute. Alastor's grin faltered for the first time.
Doom stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
His gauntleted hand drove forward, straight through Alastor's chest.
Alastor's body jerked. His eyes widened—not in fear, not quite—but in something far rarer.
Surprise.
"…ah—"
The tentacles collapsed instantly, dissolving into nothing.
Doom stood close now, meeting eye contact with Alastor. "You traded your soul," Doom said coldly to Alastor. "For a fraction of power, you barely understand."
Alastor's mouth twitched, cracked, with red blood coming at the edges of his mouth. A dumbfounded expression on his face.
"You are a mere puppet who believes himself to be the ventriloquist." Doom continued.
Doom's grip tightened around what was of Alastor's own spine. "I am Victor Von Doom. I do not make such petty dealings with the dead....''
"And I take what is mine… by right of superior mind."
Doom swiftly pulled back. A wet, tearing sound echoed through the street. And with it, something no one should have been able to see. Alastor's form shuddered, collapsing in on itself as Doom held what remained—his core, his essence, something deeper than flesh—in his grasp. Alastor's bloody spine and skeleton.
Nearby sinners watched in horror.
Alastor's empty body fell. It hit the asphalt with a hollow, final sound.
Doom did not look down. Instead, the core embedded within his chest activated.
A deep, pulsing green light surged from his chest, spreading outward in slow, consuming waves. Power, Alastor's power, was pulled toward him. Siphoned. Drawn in like a storm collapsing into a single point. Doom lifted his head, closing his eyes. Then his arms, rising slowly. Like something ascending. Energy coiled around his suit, wrapping his form in arcs that were of Alastor's stolen power and demonic energy fusing into his own. After Doctor Doom finished taking it all away, he dropped what remained of Alastor's bloody exoskeleton to the ground with it shattering on impact on the asphalt. Its pieces scattering about in a mess.
Doctor Doom then silently turned a heel as smoke from the chaos that was happening in the destroyed city lingered from its skyline. Doom sentinels walked pass towering buildings, continuing in unleashing bright energy down to the unlucky denizens below their feet.
[Scene: At the I.M.P Building....]
The blinds rattled faintly against the window. Not from wind, but from shockwaves. Blitzo stood there, fingers hooked between the slats, peering out into the distance. His usual manic grin was gone—replaced with something tighter, something strained.
Outside, Pentagram City burned. Sure, hell was always chaotic. But Blitzo has never chaos to this extent in his life.
In the far distance, streaks of red energy carved through buildings like they were made of paper. Doom Sentinels hovered and descended, their beams flashing in rhythmic bursts, each one followed by collapsing structures and panicked screams that barely carried far.
Blitzo exhaled slowly. "…fuckin' Satan...." he muttered under his breath. "It's like a war out there."
Another blast lit up the skyline. He let the blinds snap shut. The room dimmed again.
Turning around, Blitzo leaned back against the window, arms crossing loosely as his gaze shifted toward the long meeting table. Charlie sat at the center. A crumpled pile of tissues had formed beside her. She grabbed another one, her hands shaking slightly as she brought it up, blowing her nose softly, trying and failing to steady herself. "I never even got a chance…" she began, her voice fragile, barely holding together. "…to give her a proper memorial."
The words hung in the room.
"We were… we were like bread and butter…" Charlie continued, her lips trembling. "I can't run the hotel without her…"
''And I... I don't even know what to do.''
Her voice broke again.
Loona, sitting beside her, didn't say much. She just quietly reached over and handed her another tissue; her usual guarded expression softened into something far gentler than anyone in that room was used to seeing.
Across the table, Moxxie cleared his throat softly, though even he seemed uneasy.
"So…" he began cautiously, glancing between Blitzo and the window behind him. "What are we going to do now, sir?"
Millie sat beside him, her usual confidence dimmed but not gone, her hand resting reassuringly over his. "We have a client waiting for this hit on Earth," Moxxie continued, "but I think it's safe to say we can't exactly go anywhere right now given the, uh…"
Another explosion sounded in the distance along with a Wilhelm scream. "…robot invasion."
Blitzo rubbed the back of his neck, pacing once across the room before stopping again. "Yeah, no shit, Mox..." he muttered.
He glanced back toward the window.
Toward the destruction.
Toward the impossible.
Then back to the table.
"…so," he said slowly, thinking out loud now, "we got two options."
He raised a finger.
"One—we run like hell."
Another finger.
"Or two—we show Victor Von, uh, Dome...."
"Doom...." Moxxie corrected automatically.
"Whatever!" Blitzo snapped. "We show him what for and face the music!"
Moxxie blinked.
"…and how," he asked carefully, "do you suppose we do that?"
Blitzo froze. Thinking. Hard. The room fell quiet. Outside, another blast echoed.
Charlie sniffled softly, blowing her nose again.
Loona shifted slightly beside her.
Millie squeezed Moxxie's hand.
Blitzo stared at the floor.
Then...
Slowly...
A grin crept back onto his face. Not a confident one. Not a smart one. The kind of grin that usually meant something had gone very, very wrong in his brain. "…we put a hit on him!''
Moxxie, Millie, and Loona stared at him. Blinking once. Twice.
"…sir," Mox said slowly, as if trying to process whether this was a joke. "Have you… completely lost your mind?"
Blitzo shrugged.
"That human literally has a whole fuckin' armada of bots committing genocide!" Moxxie continued, voice rising. "We can't even get out of the building without getting vaporized!"
Blitzo spread his arms. "Well—it's worth a fuckin' shot, Mox! Or it's off to fucking off and spending the rest of our lives at an island somewhere in envy ring!''
Moxxie dragged a hand down his face. "…we are so dead…''
Charlie lowered the tissue from her face.
Her eyes were still wet.
But something else flickered inside her now.
Not hope.
Not yet.
But…
A direction.
A purpose.
Because running hadn't saved Vaggie.
[Scene: The overlord meeting...]
The elevator doors slid open with a sharp ding that felt far too cheerful for the state of Hell. Rosie stepped out. Her heels clicked briskly against the polished floor as she moved with purpose, parasol tucked neatly under one arm, her usual composed smile just a touch tighter than usual. Even she, ever the picture of elegance, couldn't quite ignore the distant tremors rattling the building. Another explosion echoed far off. The walls shuddered. Rosie didn't slow. She reached the double doors at the end of the hall and pushed them open without hesitation.
The meeting room was already in chaos.
Carmilla Carmine paced back and forth at the head of the long table, heels striking the floor in sharp, precise beats. Her arms were folded tightly behind her back, her expression carved from tension and calculation.
"This is unacceptable," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "An incursion into our territory...'''
Zeezi leaned forward, claws tapping impatiently against the surface. "His machines are everywhere. We take one down, three more replace it. It's fuckin' overkill, man!''
Velvette rolled her eyes, though even she couldn't mask the edge in her voice. "It's not just brute force, darling. It's branding. Fear. Control....''
Valentino scoffed, lounging back in his chair with forced nonchalance, though his fingers drummed restlessly against the armrest. "Please," he sneered. "It's just some tin-plated narcissist with toys. We've handled worse, baby....''
"Uh yeah? Like what?" Zeezi shot back.
Valentino didn't answer.
Zestial, seated calmly among them, folded his hands, his ancient gaze steady despite the tension.
"This foe is no mere invader," he said slowly, his voice echoing with quiet weight. "His power… bends not only flesh, but the very fabric of our realm."
He turned his head toward Carmilla.
"My lady Carmine," he asked, measured and deliberate, "hast thou any counsel to offer in this dire hour?"
Carmilla stopped pacing.
She stood still for a moment.
Then turned, walking toward the massive windowpane overlooking the city.
Her hands returned behind her back.
Her posture straightened. Controlled. Calculating. "…Tell me," she said quietly, her eyes scanning the burning skyline beyond the glass, "has anyone seen Rosie?"
The room paused.
The doors opened.
"Oh—my sincerest apologies for the delay!"
Rosie stepped inside with a polite smile, dipping her head slightly as she entered.
"Traffic has become rather… unpredictable this evening."
Carmilla turned her head slightly.
Her eyes narrowed.
"…You came alone."
Rosie blinked once.
Then smiled again, softer this time. "Indeed."
Velvette leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs with a scoff. "Oh please," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "If Mr. Antlers isn't here, then he probably ran off the second things got messy."
Valentino chuckled darkly. "Wouldn't be the first time someone decided survival was more important than pride."
Zeezi huffed. "Guy talks big, but—"
Carmilla's voice cut through them. "No."
"This is not his nature."
"He does not retreat from opportunity," Carmilla continued, her gaze fixed outward. "Especially not one like this."
"He is...." she chose her words carefully. ".... the most powerful sinner in Hell.'''
Velvette rolled her eyes again. "Well, maybe that radio freak decided to take another seven-year vacation like he did the last time....''
Valentino smirked faintly. "Wouldn't blame him....''
Then, Carmilla's gaze shifted. Something in the distance caught her attention. Her posture changed.
"…No." The word slipped out under her breath.
Zestial followed her line of sight. "…What dost thou see?"
Carmilla didn't answer right away.
Because what she was looking at....
Wasn't just another Sentinel.
It was bigger.
Much bigger.
A massive silhouette emerged.
Descending.
Slowly.
Inevitably.
Doctor Doom's flagship.
It cut through the skyline like a blade, its sheer size swallowing entire buildings beneath its shadow as it advanced toward them.
Velvette stood up slightly. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me…"
Zeezi's massive dino claws dug into the table. "That fuckin' thing's heading straight for us...''
Valentino's smirk faded. "…well, fuck me sideways...''
The flagship didn't slow. It loomed. its shadow swallowing entire districts as it drifted closer to Carmilla's tower. From the right wing of the flagship, a compartment split open. A single missile dropped free.
Not large.
Not flashy.
But precise.
Targeted.
And it was falling fast.
Zestial's head tilted upward. "Take heed!"
Zeezi didn't wait for anyone to finish. "EVERYONE—MOVE!"
She flipped the long desk over in one violent motion, wood splintering as it crashed onto its side. "GET DOWN!"
Valentino cursed under his breath. Velvette grabbed her phone instinctively. Rosie folded her parasol closed with a soft snap. Carmilla didn't hesitate. They all moved. Diving. Covering. Shielding.
The missile struck.
A deafening blast tore through the room, fire and force ripping the walls apart as if they were paper. The shockwave hit like a hammer.
Glass shattered.
Steel bent.
Concrete cracked.
And the entire back wall—
Gave way.
The overlords were thrown.
Through the massive rectangular windowpane as it burst outward in a storm of glass and debris. For a moment, they were weightless. The skyline spinning around them. Flames reflecting in the shards of glass that tumbled alongside them like glittering knives. Velvette reacted first. "Ugh, NOT like this!"
Midair, she yanked out her phone, fingers moving with impossible speed even as gravity dragged her down. An emoji appeared on the screen. A pink parachute. She tapped it. The screen glowed, and suddenly, a digital construct burst to life behind her, a vibrant pink parachute materializing in a flicker of energy. "Thank you, me" she muttered as it caught air, snapping open and slowing her descent instantly. Nearby, Valentino spun once in the air, then flared his coat wide. The red and white fur peeled back like wings, revealing the sleek black leather beneath. The fabric caught the air just enough. He angled himself and dropped hard onto the asphalt. Landing on his feet with a heavy thud, knees bending slightly before he straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder.
Zeezi hit next. She twisted midair and then rolled on impact, shoulder to ground, momentum carrying her forward before she sprang back up into a crouch. "Still alive!" she barked happily. Above, Zestial descended with far more grace. Dark wings unfurled, catching the air as he slowed himself, robes flowing around him like shadows as he touched down lightly.
Rosie followed, opening her parasol with a soft, elegant flick. The umbrella caught the air perfectly, lowering her gently as if she were simply stepping down from a staircase rather than falling from a collapsing building. "My...." she hummed lightly, adjusting her hat mid-descent. "How uncouth....''
And then, Carmilla. She fell last. Straight. Controlled. Her body aligned perfectly as she descended, her expression unchanged. Her heels struck the ground. Clean. Precise. A dancer's landing. Not a stumble. Not a step out of place. She rose smoothly, already turning. "…Report."
Her voice cut through the chaos, both sharp and commanding.
Zeezi stood upright, cracking her neck. "I'm good."
Valentino adjusted his coat, smirking faintly. "Still good and sexy as ever...''
Velvette drifted down behind them, her digital parachute dissolving into pixels as her feet touched the ground. "Hair's intact, so yes."
Zestial inclined his head. "Unharmed."
Rosie closed her parasol with a soft click. "Perfectly fine, thank you."
Carmilla gave a small nod. "…Good."
Above them, the building they had just been in groaned. Then collapsed further inward, flames licking out from the shattered floors. And beyond it, the flagship loomed closer. Denizens who walked in the sidewalks began to run away as spaceship came closer to the overlords. Carmilla Carmine stood her ground, her sharp eyes narrowing as a gust of wind came from the ship itself as it finally descended down to the asphalt.
BOOM.
It hit the ground. The impact cracked the asphalt outward in jagged lines, a shockwave ripping through the street and sending nearby cars skidding, windows shattering, and denizens stumbling back in terror. Dust surged upward in a choking cloud. A low hydraulic hiss. From the belly of the ship, a platform began to lower. Green light bled from its seams. And standing at its center, still, Unmoving,
Doctor Doom.
The platform touched the ground with a metallic clang. He did not rush. He did not hesitate. Victor Von Doom stepped forward. Each footstep echoed.
Across the broken street, Carmilla Carmine stood at the front. Her posture perfect, chin slightly raised, eyes locked onto the approaching figure.
Zeezi rolled her shoulders, claws flexing.
Zestial folded his wings inward, ancient eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
Rosie stood poised, parasol resting lightly against her shoulder, her smile unchanged.
Valentino tilted his head, watching with predatory curiosity.
Velvette crossed her arms, already unimpressed.
Sinners gathered at a distance. Watching. Whispering. Afraid.
Doom stopped a few paces before them.
He spoke. "I have not come for you."
"I require the location of the highest authority in this realm."
His gaze sharpened behind the mask. "Lucifer Morningstar."
Carmilla's eyes narrowed slightly.
Velvette scoffed immediately. "Oh my god," she said, rolling her eyes, stepping forward just enough to be seen. "First of all—require? Who the fuck do you think you are?"
Her gaze dragged up and down his armor. "And second—can we please talk about that fucking outfit? Because it is giving medieval trash can chic!''
Valentino snorted softly behind her.
Zeezi grinned.
Rosie chuckled under her breath.
Doom did not even look at her. "Your irrelevance does not concern me....''
Velvette's eye twitched.
Doom's attention remained fixed on Carmilla. "Provide me with his location…"
A faint glow began to build within his gauntlets. "…and I will permit your continued existence."
"Consider it an endowment of good will." Doctor Doom said.
Carmilla stepped forward. "You mistake yourself," she said calmly. "You are not in a position to offer anything."
"We will protect what is ours...." Carmilla continued. "You will not touch him."
Doom's head tilted slightly downward. Then slowly, lifted. The green glow in his eyes intensified. "…You choose defiance."
His gauntlets ignited. "You wish to perish among the rest of the condemned?"
"So be it....'''
The overlords moved. Zeezi dropped into a feral stance, claws digging into the asphalt. Valentino spread his coat, revealing his weaponry.
Velvette cracked her neck and fists.
Rosie adjusted her grip on her parasol, smile returning sharp as a blade.
Zestial's wings unfurled slowly.
Carmilla raised her arms gracefully. Like a dancer. Like a blade about to strike. No fear. No hesitation.
Zeezi moved first. A feral snarl tore from her throat as she dropped low, hands and feet slamming against the asphalt and she launched.
Doctor Doom did not move.
He stood there—silent—watching. The glow of his armor shifted. Green.
then.... red.
A jagged, unnatural red, flickering violently through the seams of his suit as distorted radio static crackled faintly through the air. His head tilted upward slightly.
And then, his hand rose. The ground answered.
Black. Vast, writhing black erupted upward from the asphalt—twisting, jagged tentacles bursting through the street like something dragged from a nightmare.
One of the tendrils snapped sideways.
CRACK.
It struck her mid-charge. The impact was violent—unnatural—like being hit by a moving wall.
Zeezi's body whipped through the air and slammed into the side of a car.
Metal folded inward around her with a deafening crash.
Doom's hand slammed downward.
Another tentacle quickly crashing down.
BOOM.
It crushed into Zeezi's position, detonating the asphalt into a violent cloud of dust and debris. Silence swallowed her.
Rosie moved next. Elegant. Precise. Her smile never left her face as she stepped forward through the chaos, parasol spinning lightly in her hand.
Then, it clicked.
The bottom half detached.
Steel flashed.
A concealed blade.
She lunged.
Her blade sliced through the air in a clean arc aimed for Doom's side but he wasn't there. A slight shift. A turn of the torso. The blade passed through empty space.
Rosie adjusted instantly, following through with another strike—
—and another—
Doom moved efficiently. A step. A lean. A pivot. He dodged her attacks.
Then he swiftly caught her wrist mid-swing.
Rosie's eyes quickly widened.
Doom said nothing. He simply turned and threw her body lifted clean off the ground. She slammed across the asphalt, rolling hard until she struck the base of a broken streetlight. Her parasol skidded away. Her body went still. Unconscious.
Zestial rose. Slowly. Gracefully. Ancient. Green flames flickered to life around his hands, curling like serpents as his wings spread outward, casting long shadows across the ruined street. "…Thou art a calamity uninvited," Zestial spoke, voice calm despite the chaos. His hands lifted. The flames intensified. Then, He unleashed them. A barrage of green fireballs tore through the air, streaking toward Doom in rapid succession. They struck.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Explosions erupted around Doom's position, fire engulfing him in a roaring inferno.
Smoke swallowed the street.
The air burned.
For a moment, nothing moved.
Then a shape emerged. Through the flames. Through the smoke. Doctor Doom stepped forward.
His arms were raised crossed in an X. Lowering slowly. The fire parted around him like it feared him. His gaze locked onto Zestial. And his gauntlets ignited. Warlock energy surged violently through his arms. He swiftly fired.
A blast of raw, concentrated magic tore through the air and struck Zestial dead center The impact lifted him completely off the ground, wings snapping outward, before he was hurled backward and slammed into the street. The ground cracked beneath him. The flames around him died instantly.
His gaze settling on the last three still standing, Velvette, Valentino, and Carmilla Carmine. Their eyes widened. The cost was clear to them.
Doctor Doom spoke again. "I assume we have come to an agreement?"
As though the answer had already been decided.
Valentino snarled at that and stepped forward at once, wings twitching wide with fury.
"The fuck did you just say—"
Carmilla's arm shot out across his chest before he could take another step.
Valentino stopped short, glaring at her in disbelief. "Carmilla?"
But she said nothing. Not yet. Her eyes moved over the ruined street. Over Zeezi. Over Rosie. Over Zestial. Her expression tightened, and for the first time since the fight had begun, her face gave way to something quieter. Something sadder.
She closed her eyes. Drew in a slow breath. And let out a brief, weary sigh.
When she opened her eyes again, they were fixed on Doom. "Yes," she said.
Velvette's head snapped toward her. Valentino stared. Both of them uttered, in stunned disbelief. "What?"
Carmilla stepped forward, heels clicking against the cracked asphalt.
"I will tell you where Lucifer is," she said. "But you must offer a promise that you will also call off your sentinels and leave this realm."
The wind moved again through Doom's cloak. Faint crackles of fire drifted through the air around him. He said nothing at first. He simply stood there, looking at her through the expressionless mask. "Where is your king?"
Carmilla did not hesitate. "He is currently with Lilith," she said, "at the farthest section of Heaven."
Her voice lowered. "But please… do not harm the angels there."
''The place is a last resort and a paradise for those who have been redeemed.''
''If any harm were to come to them, everything that Charlie has worked will be for nothing....''
For a moment, Doom did not move.
Then, slowly, a faint, evil smile formed across Victor's face behind the mask. It did not reach his eyes. But it did make what would become of Heaven ever more uncertain.