Just A Friendly Kidnapping - Tumblr Posts

for @poisonedspider - continued from here, because we love Angel Dust and cleeaaaarly never want anything bad to happen to him

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"Oh, it's plenty fuckin' sus," Striker agreed, his voice calm and his eyes steady as he studied the spider. "Business like this always is, ain't it? "I hope you'll forgive me for tyin' you up. I plan to keep you that way until you give me some assurance you ain't gonna try to kill me, because I'd hate to have to put you down in a way that sticks. Can't have you respawning and going off to warn your pet Overlord." Although there was some heat to his words, everything about his body language was calm, self-assured. The imp didn't seem worried at all about things going badly, nor did he seem to have any actual animosity towards Angel. If he had to kill the beauty, he would, but it wouldn't be personal.

"I ain't the one that took you down, by the way. Someone else knocked you out, delivered you to me. And now, you're way outside'a your boundaries, kiddo. You get free of me, you'll be loose down in Wrath, and I don't think that'll end well for you." They were in a dingey little motel room, or so it seemed, but there was a distinct lack of noise. Up in Pride, in Pentagram City, there was always noise. Whether it was gunshots, screams, cars backfiring, or hotel residents fighting Heaven, Pentagram City was always bustling. One had to actively seek out silence, find solutions like noise canceling headphones or soundproof privacy booths.

But here?

Outside of these walls?

It sure sounded like there was nothing out there. Not another soul. No roads, no shouting. Nothing. Wind whistled and shushed around the building, and bits of dust filtered in through a small crack in the window, the precursor to a slowly approaching sandstorm.

Now that he'd given the spider at least half an understanding of what was going on, Striker picked up a bottle from where he'd left it on the sink. He unscrewed the top and took a swig to show that it wasn't poisoned, then poured a bit out so Angel could see what it was. Water, sure, maybe boring, but it was good and clean, and didn't smell like sulfur the way damn near all water in Hell did.

"So. What's it gonna be?" He crouched down and offered the bottle, tilting it so Angel could drink if he chose to. "You gonna cooperate with me, behave yourself?" Something in the dryness of his tone, or maybe the way his eyes never so much as strayed down the rest of Angel's body, implied that whatever Striker actually wanted from him, there wasn't going to be any sexual coercion or misconduct here. "Or do I leave you tied up here 'til you ain't useful to me anymore, then give you that long sleep you Sinners got robbed of?"

Striker's cheek twitched at the daddy thing. Why did everyone always jump to sexual humor? Not that he really minded it, at a certain point he just grew accustomed, but still. Did people really think every situation had to lead to sex? Did--well, no. Apparently, this guy was some kind of sex icon, so maybe that made sense. In Angel Dust's world, sex was probably an extremely common occurrence--common enough to be used as a ploy and a threat. The thought left the imp cold, so he calmly put it away. Time to unpack all of that later.

Or never.

He sat down, leaning against the wall, just out of reach of the tub. If sex was such an integral part of Angel's world that he immediately referenced it to handle danger, Striker damn well didn't want to give the impression that that was how he wanted to play. He wasn't going to abuse the guy like that--not that Angel looked in the least bit frightened. Thankfully.

He took a drink of the water himself.

"You may've still been coming out of it when I told you. You've got yourself an ally. They'd like to remain anonymous for now, but they're... interested. In you. Want you to break your deal with Valentino, and apparently," his rough voice warmed with amusement and he shrugged, "they're pretty confident they can snap your chain like a twig.

"But they want assurances. Like that if you're interested, you'll play nice. That you ain't really Valentino's pet. That you won't go running off to him the second you get free.

"Me? I think you're better off letting me put an angelic-steel jacketed bullet between your eyes. But then, I don't know what your whole..." He made a lazy, vague gesture with one hand, "deal is with Valentino.

"So. You tell me. You interested? Cause like I said. My contract on you can be fulfilled one of two ways. Either I take you to your new master and you two do... whatever it is you're going to do. Or I take you out, bury you, and nobody ever finds out what the fuck happened to Angel Dust.

"Choices are shit, I know." Striker shrugged and glanced up towards the bathroom window; the light was fading, the storm growing nearer. "But this is Hell. For you, guess it's supposed to be shit."

None of this made an absolute lick of sense, and he wondered if this was some sort of fever dream. No, he'd been on the strongest of drugs before, and he had never had visions of being kidnapped by imps that were literally half his fucking height. He'd definitely been kidnapped, not only in the afterlife - it kind of came with the territory of being a mobster. Normally though, he had more sense of what was going on. People threatening him or his family for the actions they'd done.

This all seemed to be a fucking big misunderstanding.

Especially with the comment about his pet Overlord. Angel couldn't help but to laugh out loud at that, loud and obnoxious while being light and airy, a genuine laugh about the situation. "Ah' think yeh' confused, shorty." He pointed out, eyebrow raised as he rolled his head to look at his assailant. "Ah' could give two fucks if somethin' bad happens tah' that prick. In fact, ah'd welcome it. Especially if it gets meh' out of that stupid fuckin' - wait....Wrath?!"

Add that to Angel's even bigger list of confusion. As far as he knew, Sinners couldn't leave the Pride ring. Not without very special reasons, such as being asked or invited, and even then, it seemed fairly challenging. He must have been incredibly important for him to even make it out here, though he still couldn't put two and two together. He didn't know who had knocked him out. He didn't know what he was supposed to be agreeing to.

He looked at the other with weary eyes, shaking his head at the water presented to him. Not because he didn't trust it - he'd put way worse shit in his body, he knew he could handle anything - but because he wanted answers more than anything else at this point. "Yeh' ain't even tellin' meh' how ah'm s'posed tah' cooperate. Can't exactly make a promise that ah'm gonna be a good boy f' daddy if ah' don't know what ah'm agreein' tah', can ah'?"