This is a direct continuation of my first book.
(Hazbin Hotel) The Radio Demon and The Doe-Eyed Killer
So if you haven't read that book yet, go read it because you will be VERY confused if you don't!
I know year 2020 has already come and gone for us...
The sky of Hell fit the mood of the days haunting festivities, cloudy, and on the cusp of a rainstorm that wouldn't come until tomorrow for extra dramatics.
Outside of the Gamblers Den...Imaad stood with a sense of unease. He had always known the rumors about this place. It was a gambling house, obviously, but Mammon has a personal vendetta against Frederick over the fact that money isn't the sole reason for gambling inside of that building.
Imaad steels his nerves and walked up to the steps, watching as a wheelbarrow carrying what appeared to be a four armed demon was being carted out in numerous body parts and unceremoniously dumped the dismembered remains onto the steps. The demon who did this by someone who obviously wasn't a croupier of the Gambling Den. No most likely it was the one who won the bet and then exacted the gruesome act as per the stipulation of bet that was made, while the loser...
Imaad winces over the blood that's pooling down onto the once immaculate steps, staining them dark red with viscera and gore.
This is another reason why he's never allowing the twins to come here...
Even so he made his way up the steps and entered the large building. It was loud and colorful and full to the brim with demons.
Demons of all shapes and sizes were lining up to place their bets. Some just watched from the side lines, curious about the wagers.
He saw his target and quickly got to work by fading into the background.
As Imaad watched from the side, casually peeking his head over the railings of the second story to peek down at the ground floor, he saw the demon he was looking for go up and raise the dice cup in his hands.
"I bet my arm to the highest bidder against any of you pansies!" He shouted. Demons and Demoness's from all sides booed.
"No one wants yer' shitty arm!"
"Yeah! What good will that do for any of us?"
"Didn't you see what happened to four armed Huan?"
"It wouldn't even be good for meat! All skin and bones ya 🤬 toothpick!"
"Bet something better or don't bet at all!"
"THE 🤬 IS WRONG WITH YOU DEMONS? THIS IS A GAMBLING HOUSE! I CAN BET WITH WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT!"
"You can—but they're right though in regards to the value of your arm," A calm, even toned voice hummed out a response from below. "From the observations of the general public your arm is just another worthless piece of trash without any true value behind it. To which I agree. If you're going to bet on something then bet something of value."
Imaad's eyes were instantly drawn to look over at the young demon currently sitting on a pillowed throne near one of the support pillars close to a private room oftentimes used for drinking games and other miscellaneous activities.
Imaad remembered the memories Azrael had entrusted into his care regarding an individual that was strikingly similar in appearance to the young demon.
His eyes immediately widened as the breath caught within his throat when a demon girl peeked out from behind the pillar with a smug wink towards the stupid demon.
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