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Joyride to hell

The Media Mogul and the Moth’s Mistake

The VoxTek Tower shimmered like a jagged, electric tooth against the bruised crimson sky of Hell. Inside, the air hummed with the literal sound of data—a low-frequency thrum that vibrated in the bones of anyone lucky, or unlucky, enough to be invited to the inner sanctum of the Vees.

Shūtarō Mendō did not feel lucky. He felt like a man whose bespoke silk suit was being violated by the sheer lack of class in the architecture. He stood in the center of Vox’s private office, his hands clasped behind his back, chin held high with the practiced arrogance of the Mendō Zaibatsu.

"I must insist on my immediate release," Mendō declared, his voice echoing off the high-definition walls. "I am a citizen of Japan, the heir to a fortune that could buy this entire city twice over, and I find your lack of a proper concierge service to be utterly barbaric."

Vox, who was currently flickering between three different monitor screens on his desk, let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-static. He leaned forward, his screen-face glowing with a sharp, predatory blue.

"Kid, you don't get it," Vox said, his voice buzzing with a transatlantic flair. "I don't care about your yen. I care about your *brand*. I’ve been watching the data. Your arrival caused a spike in the 'Mortal Voyeurism' demographic that we haven't seen since the invention of the hidden camera. You’ve got style, you’ve got ego, and you’ve got a private army back home that makes my security drones look like toys. I want to collaborate."

"I do not 'collaborate' with electronic appliances," Mendō snapped, reaching for the hilt of his katana, only to remember that Vaggie had confiscated it back at the hotel. He settled for a sharp, dismissive gesture. "My family does not associate with demons. We exorcise them. Or we ignore them until they go away. Now, point me to the nearest exit before I lose my temper. It is dark, it is cramped in this elevator you call a lobby, and I am reaching my limit!"

Vox’s screen turned a deep, irritated red. "Listen to me, you little brat. In this city, I am the news. I am the trend. If I say you’re a star, you’re a star. If I say you’re a corpse, the vultures in Cannibal Town won't even wait for you to stop twitching. You stay here, you give me the specs on that 'Mendō Private Security' tech, and I’ll make sure you’re treated like the royalty you think you are."

Suddenly, the heavy blast-doors of the office were blown off their hinges by a massive surge of blue electricity.

"DARLING! I KNOW YOU’RE IN HERE WITH THAT TV-MAN!"

Lum Invader flew into the room, her hair trailing sparks and her face a mask of frantic jealousy. She was dragging a disheveled and smoking Ataru Moroboshi by his ankle.

"Lum-san!" Mendō cried, his relief momentarily overriding his pride. "Thank the heavens! Please, tell this monitor-headed ruffian that I am not for sale!"

"I don't care about the TV-man!" Lum shouted, dropping Ataru’s leg and hovering in front of Vox. "I felt Darling’s lecherous thoughts toward a 'Digital Diva' all the way from the street! Who is she?! Where is she hiding?!"

Ataru sat up, rubbing his head. "Lum, for the last time, I was just looking at the billboards! The resolution on those neon signs is incredible! I wanted to see if they had any... high-definition close-ups of the local talent!"

Vox stared at the floating alien girl, his screen flickering with genuine confusion. "What is this? A domestic dispute? I’m trying to run a conglomerate here!"

"You kidnapped Mendō!" Ataru said, standing up and pointing a finger at Vox. "Which, honestly, I’m fine with. Keep him. But you also made Lum mad, and when she’s mad, my life becomes a series of painful shocks. So, let him go so we can go back to the hotel and I can find a succubus who doesn't have a tracking device on me!"

"I’m not letting anyone go!" Vox roared, his voice distorting into a deep, demonic growl. "Security! Remove the girl and the pervert! The rich one stays!"

As the VoxTek drones swarmed the office, Lum let out a frustrated wail and unleashed a massive discharge of lightning. The room became a blinding white void of high-voltage energy.

In the chaos, the office floor—a glass panel designed for dramatic views of the city—shattered under the pressure of the blast. Ataru, who had been standing near the edge, let out a pathetic "Gah!" as he tumbled through the hole, falling into the lower levels of the tower.

"DARLING!" Lum screamed, diving after him, but the emergency shutters slammed shut, separating the levels.

Ataru fell for what felt like three stories before landing on something soft, pink, and smelling strongly of expensive perfume and tobacco.

"Oof! Watch the fur, honey. This coat cost more than your life is worth."

Ataru blinked, shaking the stars from his eyes. He looked up and found himself staring into the heart-shaped sunglasses of a very tall, very thin, and very irritated moth demon.

Valentino leaned back in his velvet armchair, a long, thin cigarette held between his fingers. He looked Ataru up and down with the clinical detachment of a man inspecting a new piece of livestock.

"Well, well," Valentino purred, his voice like velvet dipped in poison. "What do we have here? A little lost lamb falling from the sky? You’re a human, aren't you? I can smell the mortality on you. It’s... intoxicating."

Ataru, true to form, ignored the predatory aura and the fact that he was currently sitting on an Overlord’s lap. He looked at the room—a lavish, dimly lit studio filled with red satin, cameras, and several beautiful demonesses lounging on sofas.

"Is this... a film studio?" Ataru asked, his eyes widening. "Are you the director? Because I have a very flexible schedule and a wide range of... emotional expressions. Especially 'longing' and 'desperate'."

Valentino let out a puff of red smoke that formed the shape of a heart. He chuckled, a low, rasping sound. "A director? In a way, sugar. I’m a creator of fantasies. I make people into stars. And you... you have a very interesting look. Very 'innocent-meets-idiot'. My audience would eat you up."

Ataru scrambled off Valentino’s lap, smoothing down his tattered school uniform. "I knew it! I knew Hell would recognize my potential! Forget the hotel, forget the 'redemption' crap. Sir, I am at your service! Do I get a trailer? And are the co-stars as... well-endowed as the lady in the corner?"

Valentino’s smile widened, revealing his sharp, golden fangs. He reached out a long, gloved hand and tilted Ataru’s chin up. "Oh, we’ll get you a trailer. And we’ll get you plenty of 'co-stars'. But first, we need to sign a little contract. Just a formality. It says I own your image, your time, and every little thought that pops into that thick skull of yours."

"Sign? I love signing things!" Ataru chirped. "Back home, I sign for packages all the time! Where’s the pen?"

Valentino pulled a glowing, crimson scroll from his coat. "No pen needed, darling. Just a little drop of blood. Or a very firm 'yes'. It’s all the same to me."

Meanwhile, back in the penthouse, the battle was reaching a stalemate. Lum was currently playing a violent game of 'tag' with Vox’s drones, turning them into molten scrap metal with every pass.

Mendō, seeing his chance, scrambled toward the emergency exit. "I’m leaving! I’m going back to the hotel where the only danger is a hungry nurse and a creepy radio! This 'modern' Hell is far too stressful for a man of my breeding!"

"You’re not going anywhere, Mendō!" Vox shouted, his face appearing on every light fixture in the hallway. "I’ve already mapped your brainwaves! I know your passwords! I know about the octopus obsession! You’re mine!"

"I will never surrender to a man who can be defeated by a power surge!" Mendō yelled, finally finding his way to the elevator.

He slammed the 'Down' button, only for the doors to open and reveal Sakura. She was calmly eating a box of 'Hell-Fire Donuts', her expression as unbothered as if she were waiting for a bus in Tomobiki.

"Sakura-san!" Mendō cried, nearly collapsing with relief. "You’ve come to rescue me!"

"The hotel ran out of coffee," Sakura said, stepping out of the elevator and stepping over a pile of smoking drone parts. "I heard this building had a high-end espresso bar. Also, the spiritual pressure in this tower is giving me a headache. It needs to be purified."

She looked at Vox, who was currently manifesting a holographic body to block the path.

"You," Sakura said, pointing a donut at the Media Overlord. "You’re making too much noise. And you’re standing between me and the caffeine. Move, or I’ll exorcise your motherboard into a toaster."

Vox hissed, his screen flickering with static. "Another one? What is this, a field trip?! I am an Overlord! I am the—"

Sakura didn't wait for him to finish. She reached into her sleeve, pulled out a stack of purification charms, and slapped them onto the nearest wall. The paper burst into a brilliant white light, the spiritual energy clashing with the tower’s digital infrastructure.

Vox let out a digital shriek as his holographic form began to dissolve. "The firewalls! She’s bypassing the firewalls with... paper?! That’s impossible!"

"Nothing is impossible for a woman on a diet," Sakura remarked, walking past him. "Mendō, find Moroboshi. He’s likely doing something that will require me to increase my medical insurance premiums."

Down in the studio, Ataru was inches away from pressing his thumb to Valentino’s glowing contract.

"Just like that, sugar," Valentino whispered, his moth wings fluttering with excitement. "A lifetime of fame. A lifetime of... 'babes'."

"Babes," Ataru repeated, his eyes glazed over with the promise of a thousand phone numbers.

"ATARUUUUU!"

Lum burst through the ceiling, a literal bolt of lightning personified. She slammed into the floor between Ataru and Valentino, the shockwave shattering every camera lens in the room.

"Darling! Don't sign that! He’s a 'fuckboi'! Angel Dust told me!"

Ataru blinked, the spell broken by the smell of his own singed hair. "A what? But he promised me a trailer! And the lady in the corner!"

Valentino stood up, his height towering over the Oni princess. His eyes glowed a dangerous, hypnotic pink. "You’re ruining my shoot, you little neon brat. I don't care if you’re an alien; in this studio, I’m the only one who gives orders."

"You leave my Darling alone!" Lum hissed, her horns glowing bright yellow. "He’s my husband! If anyone is going to exploit him for their own amusement, it’s me!"

Valentino let out a cloud of pink pheromones, the smoke swirling around Lum and Ataru. "Oh, I think you’ll find that I can be very... persuasive. Why don't you both stay? We can do a 'Beauty and the Beast' theme. It’ll be a hit."

Ataru inhaled the smoke and immediately felt his knees go weak. "Lum... he’s got a point... the production value here is... top-notch..."

"Darling, no! It’s a trap!" Lum tried to fly, but the pheromones made her feel heavy and sluggish.

The studio doors burst open again. This time, it was Mendō, followed by a very bored-looking Sakura.

"Moroboshi! Lum-san!" Mendō shouted. "We are leaving! Sakura-san has disabled the security system by... well, I’m not entirely sure, but the vending machines are all screaming in Japanese!"

Sakura walked into the room, her eyes landing on Valentino. She took a final bite of her donut and sighed. "A moth demon. And a lecherous one at that. The spiritual filth in this room is thick enough to spread on toast."

Valentino turned his gaze to Sakura, his smirk faltering for a second. "And who are you, sweetheart? Another guest for the hotel? You’ve got a look that’s... a bit too 'cold' for my tastes, but we could work with it."

Sakura didn't answer. She simply raised a hand, and the spiritual pressure in the room tripled. The red satin curtains began to wither, and the pink smoke was sucked into a vortex of white light.

"Exorcism: Pillar of the Seven Heavens," Sakura whispered.

A beam of pure spiritual energy erupted from the floor, blasting through the pheromones and sending Valentino stumbling back into his lights. The moth demon let out a screech of pain as the holy energy singed his wings.

"My studio! My beautiful, filthy studio!" Valentino wailed, clutching his face.

"Moroboshi, get up," Sakura commanded, grabbing Ataru by his collar and hoisting him into the air. "Lum, take the rich one. We’re leaving before the Media Overlord figures out how to reboot his system."

"But the babes!" Ataru cried, reaching out toward the retreating demonesses. "The contract! The fame!"

"You’re getting a 'fame' of a different kind if I catch you near a camera again, Darling!" Lum shouted, grabbing Mendō and flying toward the hole in the ceiling.

As they escaped the VoxTek Tower, the building behind them began to flicker like a dying television set. Vox’s face appeared on the giant external screen, his features twisted in a mask of pure, digital rage.

"I’LL GET YOU FOR THIS, MOROBOSHI! I’LL BLACKLIST YOU FROM EVERY STREAM IN HELL! YOU’RE TRENDING DOWNWARD! DO YOU HEAR ME?! DOWNWARD!"

Back on the street, the group landed in a heap. Ataru was the first to stand up, looking remarkably unscathed despite having almost sold his soul to a moth.

"Well," Ataru said, dusting himself off. "That was a bust. No fame, no trailer, and I’m pretty sure I have a moth-ball aftertaste in my mouth."

"You’re lucky Sakura-san was hungry," Mendō remarked, adjusting his tie. "If she hadn't wanted that espresso, we’d all be part of a very questionable pay-per-view event by now."

"I never did get my coffee," Sakura noted, her stomach letting out a low, ominous growl. "The spiritual exertion has left me famished. Charlie mentioned something about 'Hell-Hog Ribs' back at the hotel."

"I’ll pay!" Mendō shouted, eager to stay in the nurse’s good graces. "I have a gold card that somehow works in the Greed Ring! Let’s feast!"

"DARLING! YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO EAT ANYTHING UNTIL YOU APOLOGIZE FOR TRYING TO SIGN THAT CONTRACT!" Lum screamed, chasing Ataru down the street with a ball of lightning in her hand.

"I was doing it for us, Lum! For our future!" Ataru yelled, his legs moving in a blur of survival-driven speed.

As they disappeared into the red fog toward the Hazbin Hotel, the residents of Hell watched them go with a mixture of confusion and awe.

"Those humans," a random sinner remarked, leaning against a lamp-post. "They’re weirder than use, aren't they?"

"They’re worse," his friend replied. "They’re from Tomobiki."