7. Blood, Death and Jazz.
Hell's Gate City buzzed with its usual nighttime chaos, the busy streets complicating the blind demon Kain Longheart's journey through Hellquiem. Veildark Records was located further within the district, and at night, the distant hum of the Sea of Pride factories was almost inaudible. Yet, the vibrant sounds of the city's nightlife persisted, painting a complex soundscape for Kain to navigate.
"Caw! Now you'll turn left, to the bridge." Greasy said, perched comfortably on Kain's head,his crimson eyes scanning the chaotic streets around.
"Thanks, GPS," Kain quipped, smirking as he turned left toward a bridge.
As he continued walking, Kain passed demons of all shapes, sizes, and colors-some on foot, others zipping by on bicycles or roller skates, each contributing to the city's lively, chaotic rhythm. For Kain, that was all that mattered: The smell of food wafting from the boats on the river made Greasy perk up with excitement. The aroma mixed with the smoke drifting from the alleys and drains, bets made on the streets, the transportation of illicit objects and even some demons offering 'services' to Kain creating a distinct ambiance. The sound of flowing water and laughter surrounded him, who felt a certain comfort under the warm yellow glow of the city lights brushing against his skin. Yet, a part of him remained uneasy as demons passed by. Most ignored him, but a few stopped to stare, their gazes heavy and palpable-even to someone blind.
This was nothing new for Kain Longheart. The legendary rhythm demon always drew attention. Being a musician who had stayed in the limelight for over 70 years was a rare feat, even in Hell. He had grown accustomed to the curious stares of fans and strangers alike, and while it didn't faze him much, it still bothered him on occasion.
Kain ignored the attention, continuing his walk while whistling one of his many compositions. Unbeknownst to him, a demon perched atop a nearby building observed him through a pair of binoculars.
The demon was short, dressed in leather, with protruding wings and the slightly yellowed scaled skin typical of prolonged exposure to Hellitia.
"It's him!" the demon declared triumphantly, his voice brimming with pride. "Who would've thought a demon this famous lived right here in Hell's Gate City? How did we not know this sooner? Those eyes... they're going to fetch a fortune."
He let out a sinister laugh, the sound carrying faintly into the chaotic night. The demon pulls a radio from his pocket, bringing it to his mouth. Pressing a button, he speaks:
"Hey, guys, the rhythm demon's heading the right way tonight. Get the ambush ready. The collector will like this."
With that, he spreads his wings and takes off, vanishing into the shadows of the city.
Kain continues his walk through the district, gradually leaving behind the noisiest part of the city. The music and urban sounds fade, replaced by the quiet presence of a few apartments, the wet sidewalks, and the constant sound of water running through the canals. Adding to this are the faint hum of industrial noise and the infernal cacophony of the city in the distance. His footsteps, steady and deliberate, break the stillness, ensuring the environment is never completely silent.
"Caw! We're almost there... Hmm, I can already taste the hot dog," Greasy said, sticking his tongue out.
"Do you ever talk about anything other than hot dogs?"
"Of course! I can talk about pizza, ice cream, pasta, hamburgers, canary seed... Hmm, canary seed."
"Now you're really sounding like a bird."
"Caw!? And how else do you expect me to sound? Like a dromedary? I'm a crow."
"You're a demon, Greasy. The crow part
is just the packaging."
After a few more steps, Greasy spoke up.
"Kain, I have a slight feeling that something's wrong."
"Must be boredom, Greasy. Relax," Kain replied casually.
"No, Kain, that's not it." Greasy shifted uneasily, looking around before adding, "I think we're being watched."
"I'm always being watched. It's one of the consequences of having been on stage 70 years ago," Kain said with a dry chuckle.
"If you say so," Greasy muttered, settling back into Kain's hair. Meanwhile, Kain, now slightly more wary, tightened his grip on his cane and quickened his pace, his senses sharp.
With that, Kain continues walking, following the direction his crow indicated. After a few more steps, he stops at the edge of the sidewalk, pausing as the sound of water reaches his ears and the scent of hot dogs fills the air.
In front of him is a simple metal boat moored to the sidewalk, tied by a rope at the bow to a metal post. Kain smiles and carefully steps forward until his foot touches the wooden deck of the boat.
"The boat was low, with benches set in front of a counter. The roof covered only the seating area and the counter, leaving the rest of the boat open. The benches were red, and the roof was a worn shade of brown. Behind the counter, a tall, rotund demon was busy cooking sausages on a stove.
He wore a white shirt stained with sauce and an apron tied around his waist. His light green, scaly skin shimmered under the dim lights, and his gill-like features twitched with every movement. The demon grinned, revealing sharp teeth. He had black hair, glowing yellow eyes, and no shoes, his thick green tail-also covered in scales-expertly stirring the deep fryer as he simultaneously flipped the sausages.
"Kain took a few steps and sat down on the bench in front of the counter.
"Good evening, Tom," he said, folding his cane and slipping it into his suit.
A Hellhound sat down next to Kain, his orange coat giving him the appearance of a coyote. White markings dotted his fur, and his striking blue eyes widened as he glanced at the figure beside him. He wore casual attire-a black jacket over a striped black shirt and heavily worn black jeans-with a camera hanging from a sling around his neck.
Tom turns around, his smile widening even more.
"Look, look who came tonight. I didn't expect you to show up here, Mr. Longheart."
"Neither do I, but my crow insisted, so here we are," Kain replied, leaning his shoulders on the counter.
"The usual?"
"Of course, but with plenty of ketchup."
"Got it," Tom said, turning back to the frying pan, focusing on his cooking.
The Hellhound closed his mouth and cleared his throat before turning to the blind demon. He leaned on the counter, resting his head on his hand with the tail swinging from side to side, and said with a slight smile, "The rhythm demon."
"Who are you? A fan? If you're looking for an autograph, I'll let you know I can't write very well," Kain replied, lightly tapping the wood with his index finger.
Tom turned around, placed a glass on the counter, opened a bottle of beer, and filled it as he listened.
"Maybe, but no. Although I really admire your work," the Hellhound said. He paused before continuing, "I heard that a famous demon shows up around here from time to time. My original goal was to find him, but I ended up liking the place, so I became a regular. I just didn't expect to actually find you."
"I'm not a ghost," Kain said, taking a sip of his beer. "My record label is nearby."
"I don't like disturbing others at work. Let me introduce myself-" The Hellhound suddenly noticed something moving in Kain's hair and pointed.
"There's something in your hair."
"That?" Kain asked. "It's just my crow. Greasy, come on out."
The Hellhound's eyes widened as a bird's head emerged from Kain's hair.
"Caw! Is the hot dog ready yet?. I'm hungry... again," Greasy said, flapping his wings and landing on the counter.
"He speaks!? How does he speak?" the Hellhound asked, astonished.
"It's a long story. He's my guide."
"Caw! And I do it very well," Greasy said, puffing out his feathers in pride.
Tom noticed the crow and grinned. "Oh, good evening, Greasy. How's the most dangerous demon in town?"
"I'm fine, thanks, Tom," Greasy replied.
Tom chuckled lightly and returned to cooking.
"So, as I was saying," the Hellhound continued, turning back to Kain, "Mr. Longheart. My name is Shadow Dusk. I'm a journalist and an amateur photographer in my spare time."
"A journalist? Where do you work? 666 News? HellCorp Television?"
"Neither," Dusk said, his gaze shifting forward as he rested his hands on the counter. "I'm an independent journalist."
"Independent journalist? In Hell? With all this power struggle? Heh, that's a new one. How come you're not dead yet? Let me guess-you publish whatever version they pay you to."
"I wouldn't feel right doing that. I work with the truth," Dusk replied firmly. "It's good not to be tied to the big media conglomerates in Hell. My tail isn't bound to anyone. This is what I love to do, and I know how to do it well. Besides, I always find my way."
"Okay... but you still haven't told me what you want from me," Kain said.
"I admit our meeting here was a coincidence," Dusk began, pulling a notepad and pen from his jacket. His face lit up with a wide grin. "But since fate brought us together, could you answer a few questions for me? I know Kain Longheart doesn't usually give interviews, but in this charming atmosphere of Hell's Gate City, could you make an exception?"
Dusk leaned in closer, his face almost brushing Kain's. Feeling his breath on his cheek, Kain slammed his hand on the counter, the sharp noise making the Hellhound flinch and retreat slightly.
"Sorry," Dusk said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "Guess I got a little carried away."
Tom, who had been quietly finishing up, turned to the counter and set down two trays. One held a hot dog with two sausages drowned in ketchup, a side of fries, and a cup of soda. The other had a more modest hot dog, a larger portion of fries, and a glass of beer. Tom placed the first tray in front of Kain and the second in front of Dusk.
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"Caw! Caw!" Greasy cawed with excitement, shuffling eagerly toward Kain's tray. He gripped one of the sausages in his beak, pulling it out of the bun until it tumbled onto the tray, where he immediately started eating.
"Hahaha!" Tom burst into laughter. "Let me give you a warning, coyote-you won't get anything out of this grumpy musician."
He leaned on the counter, grinning widely. "I've been trying to figure out for ages when this guy, will find someone for this lonely dick. But he always gives me the same excuse."
Tom brought his hands dramatically close to his face, mocking in a high-pitched, exaggerated voice, "Ahh... B-But Tom, you need to understand that no one wants to be with a b-blind demon." He waved his hands theatrically, clearly enjoying his imitation of Kain.
"Fuck you, it's not my fault," Kain said, picking up the hot dog with one hand and the soda with the other.
"Caw! It kind of is, Kain. Just last week, you spent almost an hour talking to a demoness after a gig-about Robert Johnson, of all things."
"Hey! There's nothing wrong with talking about the Blues Devil," Kain replied, taking a big bite of the hot dog.
"I've never seen anyone roll their eyes so much," Greasy muttered before returning to his meal.
Meanwhile, atop a nearby building, two demons conversed while one of them opened a briefcase. They both wore identical black clothing and face masks.
"Y-You need to be precise with that shot," the first demon said, putting his hands to his face. "OR ELSE SHE WILL PICK OUR EYES OUT-"
The second demon quickly clamped his hands over the first one's mouth, knocking him off balance.
"Shut the fuck up, he's blind. He must have sensitive hearing or something. Are you trying to reveal our position?"
"Sorry... I'm nervous. Whatever, go ahead."
"She ain't gonna rip our eyes out man, she ain't got no interest in them."
The first demon refocused on the briefcase, pulling out a heavy crossbow.
"Now, that's top-notch equipment."
"Wouldn't it be better to bring a sniper rifle?"
"And get the attention of half the district? Yeah, sure, keep dreaming," the first demon said, taking a telescopic sight from the case and attaching it to the crossbow.
The demons positioned themselves on the building's sill, and the one with the crossbow aligned the sight with Kain's chest.
"Can I shoot now?" he asked.
"Wait for confirmation from the rest of the team. This is supposed to be an ambush," the second demon replied, pulling a walkie-talkie from his pocket and pressing the button. "We're in position, copy."
After finishing his meal, Shadow Dusk turned back to Kain.
"Come on, Mr. Longheart, just one, maybe two questions. Please," he said eagerly, looking ahead. "It's not every day I get this kind of opportunity. Imagine putting this on my blog-an independent journalist in Hell interviewing Kain Longheart!" He finished with a wave of his hands, clearly excited.
"Can I at least finish eating before you start grilling me?"
"Yes, sir, I apologize."
Once Greasy finished his sausage, he climbed onto the soda cup, his bird feet gripping its edges. He looked ahead and noticed something strange. On the Hellhound's left hand, the ring finger was cut in half. The wound had long since healed, with fur already growing over it, indicating it was an old injury. Greasy, curious, asked before dipping his beak into the soda.
"Caw! What happened to your finger?"
"This?" The Hellhound glanced at his hands. "Oh, that was an accident in a wrestling ring in Cannibal City. A guy ended up eating part of my finger. But I don't complain, because he gave me a brand new camera."
"So you're a fighter too?" Tom asked.
"Everyone needs a hobby," Shadow Dusk replied.
"You don't look like the type."
"I don't use anabolic steroids or artificial muscle growth methods," Dusk said with a smirk. He paused, smiling widely at Kain before continuing. "Actually, Mr. Longheart, I'm investigating something very interesting. Did you know there's illegal trafficking of anabolic steroids illegally manufactured in the sea of pride? It's so big and secretive that it even involves Heaven. Pretty wild, right? I even know that the use of these hormones has different side effects on humans and demons because of their biology... though I'm not sure exactly what those side effects are." Dusk leaned in closer to Kain as he spoke.
"Respect my personal space, okay?" Kain said firmly.
He picked up his glass of soda and immediately noticed the change in weight and the sound of Greasy drinking. With his other hand, he gently grabbed the bird and brought him close to his face.
"Greasy, don't drink so much soda. You'll be hyperactive at bedtime."
"Caw?" Greasy tilted his head to the side. As he did, his sharp eyes caught a glint of white light moving toward Kain-possibly the reflection of a weapon.
"KAIN, GET DOWN!" Greasy screamed. Startled, Kain fell out of his chair, instinctively trying to move quickly.
"Greasy? What do you mean?" Kain asked, still on the ground.
"There's someone on top of the building aiming at you-" Greasy began, but his warning was cut short as a crossbow bolt slammed into the counter, narrowly missing Kain.
Meanwhile, on the rooftop, the two demons looked down at the scene.
"Damn, he moved too fast, I lost my aim."
"Dude, man i think they knew you were gonna shoot," said one demon nervously.
"What do you mean? Look where we are..." The second demon trailed off, noticing the Hellhound below staring directly at them. "Wait, fuck, I forgot the lens reflects light!"
Immediately, the second demon's walkie-talkie crackled to life. He quickly pulled it from his pocket.
"The target is on alert. What have you done?" a voice demanded from the other end.
"Uh... Physics," the demon muttered.
"You guys forgot that the scope lens reflects light, right?"
"Maybe."
A brief, awkward silence followed before the voice broke it.
"Impressi-"
"Oh, shut up and attack already!" snapped the demon with the crossbow, readjusting his aim.
Suddenly, six other demons, dressed in similar attire to those on the building, emerged from the water. They climbed aboard the boat, which rocked slightly under their weight before stabilizing.
"Wow, what a dramatic entrance..." Tom said, grabbing Kain with one hand and tossing him behind the counter.
Suddenly, a demon landed on the boat with a thud, his scaly, slightly yellowish wings flapping as he let out a piercing scream.
"Look, look, look-Kain Longheart, in flesh and sin," he said with a wide grin.
"Mercenaries... Let me guess, you were hired by the Eye Collector?" Kain called out from behind the counter, his voice steady.
"Wow, you hit the nail on the head. But come on, there's no need for a fight. You're already blind-what difference does it make to lose those unique eyes of yours? She'll pay top dollar for them," the demon sneered.
"Hold on! You can't just show up out of nowhere and demand to rip out the rhythm demon's eyes," Dusk interjected, raising his hands in protest.
"And who the hell are you?" the winged demon asked, narrowing his eyes.
"I'm a journalist," Dusk replied confidently.
"Oh, whatever," the demon said dismissively, waving a hand. "You're getting beaten up too. Boys, capture him!"
The masked demons draw their weapons-clubs and knives-and begin advancing toward the counter and Shadow Dusk. The Hellhound narrows his eyes and takes a deep breath, slipping a pair of brass knuckles out of his pocket and fitting them discreetly onto his left hand. As the first demon lunges forward, attempting to stab him with a downward strike, Dusk reacts swiftly. With a sudden left-handed jab, he lands a powerful blow, sending the assailant flying to the other side of the boat. Blood splatters from beneath the demon's mask, evidence of the force behind the punch."Wouldn't it be better if we used firearms? Look, Jeff just got punched," said the second demon, peering through binoculars at the fight below from the top of the building.
"I've told you before and I'll say it again-are you trying to alert the entire neighborhood? Besides, gun control in Hell's Gate City is surprisingly efficient," the first demon replied, adjusting the crossbow's scope. "And anyway, we outnumber them. Now excuse me, I need to aim at that pesky coyote."
"Yeah, but don't forget Kain Longheart is down there too," the second demon muttered.
Meanwhile, the boat rocked violently. The fryer oil sloshed dangerously, and the shouting and pounding of feet disoriented Kain as he struggled to stand behind the counter. The movement of the boat made it even harder to find his balance.
"Hahaha! This is so much fun! A good fight to break up the monotony of life, right?" Tom laughed as he stepped out from behind the counter to join the brawl.
"Maybe," Kain murmured, steadying himself against the counter. He then called out, "Greasy, are you there?"
Greasy landed on Kain's shoulder, visibly worried. "Caw! Are you okay, Kain?"
"I'm fine. You said there were snipers aiming at me, right?"
"Yes."
"Do you know where they are?"
"Yes."
"Can you throw them off balance?"
"I can try."
"Then go."
With that, Greasy's expression turned determined. He spread his wings and took off, flying toward the building with swift, purposeful movements. Meanwhile Kain got out from under the balcony and raised his head while grabbing his cane.
"Look! He came out of cover-quick, load another bolt," said the demon with binoculars.
"I already did," the demon with the crossbow replied, adjusting his aim. "Now you can't escape me, rhythm dem-"
He stopped mid-sentence, confusion spreading across his face as a black bird suddenly landed on the crossbow, blocking his line of sight.
"Shoot," ordered the demon with binoculars.
"I can't-there's a bird on my scope!" the crossbow-wielding demon growled, waving his free hand at the bird. "Shoo! Get off, you bag of feathers!"
The crow tilted its head, a glint of mischief in his red eyes, and suddenly lunged forward, biting the demon's finger.
"Aaah! Let me go, you stupid bird!" the demon screamed, shaking his hand in pain as the bird bit harder.
"Holy shit! I'll help you," said the other demon, dropping his binoculars and lunging at the bird. But the crow was faster. It released its grip on the finger and flew straight to the second demon's face, pecking ferociously.
"AAHHH! Get it off me!" the second demon yelled, clawing at the air.
"Hold still, you idiot! I'll get it," the first demon said, abandoning the crossbow and lunging at the bird.
What followed was a chaotic scene: the two demons flailed wildly, trying to catch the nimble bird, which darted in and out of the darkness, using its black feathers to blend with the night. Greasy pecked and clawed relentlessly, leaving both demons bruised and battered.
Finally, the bird struck the second demon so hard that he fell to the ground. Seeing his chance, the first demon aimed a punch at the bird, but Greasy dodged at the last moment, and the blow landed squarely on his companion's head.
"Ouch! You idiot, we're on the same team!" the demon on the ground groaned, blood dripping from his mask.
"Sorry! I was aiming for the bird!" the standing demon stammered, helping his partner up.
As they both stumbled to their feet, clutching their heads in pain, they froze. Greasy hovered outside the building, crossbow in his claws.
"No! Nice bird, don't do that!"
"Caw!" Greasy taunted before releasing the crossbow.
The demons scrambled to the edge of the building, watching helplessly as the weapon plummeted into the water below, disappearing into the depths.
"That crossbow was very, very expensive..."
The two demons exchanged a defeated look.
"If anyone asks, we were attacked by a huge, terrifying demon," said the first demon.
"Agreed," replied the second.
On the boat, the fight raged on with unrelenting intensity. Shadow Dusk demonstrated his impressive combat skills, landing precise blows that would make any MMA champion envious. Meanwhile, Tom reveled in the chaos, his booming laughter echoing as he effortlessly subdued a mercenary in a headlock and wielded a hot frying pan to fend off others.
"HAHAHAHA! This is so much fun! Only Kain could attract this kind of excitement!" Tom bellowed, swinging the pan with gusto.
In the midst of the brawl, the scaled demon who had been leaning nonchalantly against the corner of the boat sighed in exasperation. Rolling his eyes, he snapped his fingers and said, "Stop playing around, it's getting late."
At his command, the mercenaries intensified their attacks. Shadow Dusk, despite his experience and precision, was caught off guard. A blade pierced his left arm, and though he showed no signs of pain, the injury caused him to lose his balance. Before he could recover, a hard blow to the face sent him crashing to the ground, where he was swiftly immobilized.
Tom, noticing Shadow Dusk's fall, momentarily let his guard down. This lapse proved costly as one of the mercenaries struck him on the head with a frying pan. The impact knocked him out instantly, his body slumping to the floor in an almost cartoonish manner, the boat trembling under his weight. In no time, both Tom and Shadow Dusk were restrained and tied up.
"It seems your friends aren't doing too well, Mr. Longheart," the scaled demon taunted, stepping forward with a smug grin. "But I promise to release them if you surrender peacefully. Relax, we don't intend to kill you. We just need... an eyeball."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal cylindrical device. With the press of a button, sharp claws extended from its base, glinting ominously in the dim light. The demon let out a sinister laugh before regaining his composure and speaking with a chilling calmness.
"This should have ended with the crossbow bolt earlier, but... unforeseen events happen," he said, snapping his fingers again.
At his signal, the mercenaries pressed their knives to the throats of both Shadow Dusk and Tom, their blades poised to end the fight with a single move.
"Okay, okay, I surrender," Kain said, raising one arm and holding his cane with the other.
"Come here now, and no sudden movements," the scaled demon, who seemed to be the leader, ordered.
"Okay, okay, okay," Kain replied, stepping out from behind the counter and heading toward the middle of the boat. However, halfway there, he slammed his cane hard on the floor with his left hand. Nothing happened, and the demons laughed. Shadow Dusk shot him a serious look, but as the laughter filled the air, suddenly, everyone on the boat - except for Tom, who was still passed out, Kain, and Greasy - screamed in pain. The mercenaries dropped their knives and clutched their ears, collapsing to the ground as the pain overwhelmed them.
"Geez, that took longer than it should have," Kain muttered, brushing the dust off his shoulders and sighing deeply. He tapped his cane three times on the floor in perfect rhythm.
"Caw! I'm here!" Greasy cawed, landing on Kain's head.
"Greasy, go to the journalist on the floor," Kain ordered.
The crow immediately flew to the journalist, cawing as he landed.
Kain followed the sound of Greasy's caw and, amid the mercenaries' screams, he touched the Hellhound's face and whistled a restrained melody. The Hellhound stopped screaming, looking confused.
"Uhh...?" he muttered.
"Put a bandage on your arm, you're bleeding," Greasy said, then turned to Kain, "Caw! And Kain, he was tied up."
Kain then stood up and made his way to the other side of the counter, where Tom had been cooking. He grabbed a pan, went to the edge of the boat, stretched out his arm to scoop up some water, and, tapping his cane, located Tom lying on the floor. He splashed water in Tom's face, causing him to wake up in a panic.
"AAAAAA! I'm amazi-" Tom stopped mid-scream, looking around and seeing the mercenaries writhing in pain on the floor. "Damn, Kain, I didn't know about that trick of yours."
"Tie them up," Kain instructed. "And look for something to release Mr. Dusk from the ropes."
Tom smiled, getting to work, looking for rope to bind the mercenaries and a knife to free Dusk.
"Wow, what was that? I feel like my ears are being blown out from the inside," Shadow Dusk remarked, rubbing his ears.
"It's a psychological effect," Kain replied. "It goes away in half an hour, or I can cancel the effect."
"That's cool. Hey, I took a stab for you. Are you going to give me an interview?"
Kain took a deep breath. "Tomorrow. See if you show up at my record company. Maybe I'll answer two questions."
"Seriously, Mr. Longheart!? This is going to be amazing!" Dusk shouted, struggling against his restraints.
"Tom gathered all the mercenaries, tying them up as they continued to scream and kick in pain. With a knife, he cut the rope that held the journalist.
"So, what do we do with those guys?" Tom asked.
"Throw them in the water. They'll probably float," Kain replied.
"Okay," Tom said, grabbing the mercenaries and tossing them into the water, where they floated away.
At the top of the building, the two remaining mercenaries watched the scene unfold.
"We should probably go after them."
"Yeah, let's go. That was... embarrassing," the other demon muttered.
Back on the boat, Shadow Dusk was cleaning his clothes and checking his camera.
"Wait, but don't you want to know why they were after you?" Dusk asked.
"I already know," Kain said. "Haven't you heard? They're hired by the Eye Collector. A difficult woman. Anyway, I need to make a call."
Kain then took his phone out of his pocket. When he turned it on, a robotic female voice began to speak in response to his actions on the device.
"Home menu, phone, contacts, Ronald, Make a call, calling," the voice announced.
Meanwhile, in another part of Hellquiem, Ronnie was standing inside an atelier. The space was large, filled with various types of clothes in different sizes and colors. The lighting was a calm yellow, highlighting the pieces on display. Nearby, different types of fabric were piled near the cash register, and a large mirror stood beside it. Ronnie stood in the middle of the room, arms open, looking bored, while a cat demon adjusted the clothes he wore - a tailored suit made of fine materials in light colors.
"Is this over? I just want a romantic dinner. I'm not going to walk in a fashion show Claude," Ronnie complained.
"Mon amour, I just want to show your beauty to hell, that's why I can't allow my cupcake to walk around in boring, cheap clothes and radioactive tissues sans classe," said Claude, the cat demon, who wore a flashy outfit and a hat only someone like him would dare to wear.
"It may be, but you've been doing this for an hour and a half."
"Perfection takes time, mon amour. These are imported fabrics, so care must be taken when adjusting them," Claude replied, adjusting Ronnie's sleeves.
"Sometimes I think you care more about these fabrics than me."
"Blasphème!" Claude exclaimed, raising a hand, his tail wagging. "I am willing to spend the most expensive fabrics on you, I want you to feel well-dressed and happy," he said, grabbing Ronnie's tie and pulling him closer. "Because I love you." He then locked lips with Ronnie, kissing him passionately, making the Veildark Records manager hold him tighter.
Claude stepped away and tightened Ronnie's tie.
"Perfect. You look beautiful, Ron mon amour."
Ronnie glanced at the mirror. The light-colored suit contrasted with the bright red of the collar, showcasing both professionalism and the seriousness of a tailor-made outfit.
"Congratulations, it's wonderful."
"The best for mon amour, Claude Bijoux is the best stylist in hell. Now come on, the world needs to see you."
"I'm sure you ar-" Ronnie's phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket. "Give me a second, someone's calling me," he said, smiling.
"Just don't get your clothes dirty."
"Okay, okay." He stepped back a little, bringing the phone to his ear.
"Kain! What do you need? Yes, mercenaries? Collector? Yes, of course, I met her in person, we reached an agreement and made the payment. Did she send people to kill you again?" he asked, his tone light. "Did you kill someone? No? Well, that makes it easier. Yes, of course, I'll call her and sort it out. You don't need to worry. Okay, good night. Bye."
Back on the boat, Kain turned off the phone and put it back in his pocket. He then pulled out his wallet, placed some notes on the counter, and stood up.
"That should be enough," Kain said, walking toward the boat exit with Greasy perched on his shoulder.
"Goodbye, Kain. This night was very lively," Tom called out.
"See you tomorrow, Mr. Longheart. It will be a pleasure to interview you," Dusk added.
Kain simply waved back and stepped off the boat.
"You drank too much soda, Greasy. If you get hyper and end up not letting me sleep, I'll kick you out of the house."
"Relax, Kain, you'll sleep well, I promise. Caw!"
"Okay then, if you promise."
With that, Kain headed to the nearest riverboat port, unaware
of the melody that lurked in the shadows, drawing closer, just waiting for the right moment to return and torment the musician who had already dared to listen.