The muffled voices grew clearer as Alastor and Angel approached the central part of the warehouse. They pressed against the cold, rusted walls, peering around the corner to see four demons huddled around a makeshift table. Papers and maps littered the surface, and a faint glow from a flickering bulb above gave the scene an eerie ambiance.
"Looks like a nice little clubhouse," Angel whispered, his gun ready.
"Amateurs," Alastor replied, his voice barely audible. "This will be easy."
Without warning, Alastor stepped out of the shadows, his grin wide and menacing. The air around him seemed to hum with energy as the demons turned, startled by his sudden appearance.
"Well, well, well," Alastor drawled, tapping his cane on the ground. "I do hope I'm not interrupting something important."
One of the demons—a hulking brute with jagged horns—snarled and reached for his weapon, but before he could act, Angel fired a warning shot that zipped past his hand and into the table. The demon froze.
"Yeah, I wouldn't try that if I were you," Angel said, stepping out beside Alastor. "We're just here for a little chat."
The smallest demon, a wiry creature with darting eyes, stammered, "W-what do you want?"
Alastor's smile didn't falter, but his eyes darkened. "We're looking for Valentino. And word has it that this fine establishment might hold some answers."
The demons exchanged nervous glances, but none of them spoke. Alastor tilted his head, his grin widening unnaturally. The dim light cast long shadows across his face, making him look more monstrous than usual.
"Ah, silence," he said softly. "How quaint. Allow me to encourage your cooperation."
The crimson glow from his cane intensified, and the room seemed to warp slightly, the shadows elongating and twisting as if alive. The demons flinched, their confidence rapidly draining.
"Okay, okay!" the wiry demon yelped. "We don't have him here, but—"
"But?" Alastor prodded, his tone polite but laced with danger.
The demon swallowed hard. "We—we heard he's being held in an old slaughterhouse deeper in Cannibal Town. Some guy named Richter runs the place. Real psycho. If Val's there, you're gonna need more than guns and tricks to get him out."
Angel scoffed. "Great. Another freak with a weird name."
Alastor took a step closer, looming over the trembling demon. "And why, pray tell, should I trust this information?"
"It's the truth!" the demon squeaked. "Richter's been bragging about capturing someone big. He's got half the town working for him now. Please, that's all I know!"
Alastor's smile finally faded, replaced by a cold, scrutinizing look. After a moment, he stepped back, signaling Angel to lower his gun.
"Very well," Alastor said. "You've been... moderately helpful. But if I find out you've lied to me..." He let the implication hang in the air, the shadows around him twisting ominously.
The demons didn't need further convincing. They nodded furiously, one of them muttering a hasty, "Good luck."
Alastor turned on his heel, heading for the exit with Angel close behind. "A slaughterhouse," Angel said with a grimace. "Real original."
"Indeed," Alastor said. "But if this 'Richter' truly has Valentino, I believe he's about to learn the meaning of poor decisions."
Angel smirked, cocking his gun. "I like the way you think, Radio Boy. Let's go teach this guy a lesson."
The two disappeared into the night, their sights set on the dark heart of Cannibal Town, where the next chapter of this twisted tale awaited them.
