Big Brothers is Back part 7

from /hhg/ Helluva Hotel general #683
other storys: https://pastebin.com/Fq1VgnC6
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Okay let's see if I can't wrap this up tonight


>Moxxie's face betrays more than a little relief when he finally sees you emerging from the mist
>Perhaps because he's glad that everyone's come back in one piece, or maybe more because you being back means he no longer has to wait around, freezing his tail off
>You pile into the transport and feel the pinprickly sting as the heaters begin to aggressively force warmth back into your extremities
>There's a general ruffling of fabric and a clicking and clattering of buttons and zippers as everyone relieves themselves of their heaviest insulation
>Solagne puts a hand down on the seat beside her to keep her balance as the vehicle lurches into motion
>Her mouth opens and closes several times as she struggles to articulate a thought, or probably several
>Eventually she reduces them down to just two words

>"Thank you."

>Charlie says nothing in return, she simply turns and looks out the window as the dim, frost-encrusted landscape rolls by
>The remainder of the journey passes in silence, just as before
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>Paimon greets you and Moxxie warmly at the door
>His delicate features show nothing but cheerful hospitality
>You're still not how he can remain so unflinchingly calm, so consistently
>If you had the demoness who was the last official "enemy of the crown" and who is supposed to be long-gone plotting a coup from down in your cellar, you'd be just a little bit high strung
>And yet, the former royal tutor remains as playfully jovial as he ever was
>It must be his age
>Although his dusky, feminine features seem totally unblemished by time, you have to remember that he's almost as old as your father was
>He's had ample time to build up a solid bulwark of calm, one layer at a time, century by century

>"I take it your visit to the ninth circle was productive?"

>Depends on one's definition of the word
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>Paimon nods sagely and presses the topic no further

>"And our illustrious monarch?"

>Went straight into her office as soon as you'd arrived at Pandemonium Palace, shut the door, and still hadn't come out by the time you'd made ready to pay a visit to Paimon's estate

>"I see."
>"Well, in any case, dinner will be served in a few hours."
>"I sent your friend the spider down to the cellar to fetch a suitable wine."
>"Why don't you go check after him? He's been down there a good while."
>"I suspect he's just gotten lost, but then, there are quite a few bottles down there."
>"I'm sure I don't need to tell you I had to get a special dispensation from The Central Ministry to keep my cellars, I'll be none too pleased if I find he's emptied them out."

>Paimon winks at you as he speaks
>His estate has been checked and rechecked for any means of monitoring those occupying it thrice over, but he's a smart enough fellow to err on the side of caution and keep up his facade
>The hidden partitions in the cellar, newly (and surreptitiously) constructed and therefore least likely to have been compromised, are the only places that "business" is discussed
>You assure him that Angel will get a stern talking to if you catch him sneaking a nip before meal time and stroll down to the staircase under a heavy cloud of casualness for any prying eyes that you might have missed

>Left at the first intersection
>Left at the second
>Right at the third
>There we are
>The only rack in the whole labyrinthine cellar with an unlabelled bottle on it

>You turn your back and lean against it
>You drum your fingers against the wood
>The cadence of an old song
>...one that Charlie used to sing
>You're not sure why you settled on that of all things for the signal
>Just happened to be the first thing to come to mind when it came time to decide
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>There's a moment's hesitation, then the panel begins to move
>Slowly, to minimize noise
>The mechanism was designed to be as smooth and silent as possible, but discretion is the better part of valor

>Once the panel is open just wide enough to accommodate your frame, a pair of hands reaches out to usher you in

>"Were ya followed?"

>If you had been, there'd be a dozen enforcers and twice as many Overwatch troopers swarming you like ants on a sugar bowl right now

>Angel emits a sort gallows-chuckle and steps aside, clapping you on the shoulder as you pass before carefully sealing the secret entryway back up

>You proceed past a handful of modest storage rooms, the humble kitchen/mess area, and into the 'main room'
>The insurrection's headquarters is decorated with various maps, both printed and hand-drawn, on every wall, and heaps of half-assembled explosive weapons on most of the tables
>Only three members of the ersatz rebel army are present at the moment
>Angel Dust, Paimon's newest permanent guest, ostensibly just to be closer to his brother and sister. He returns to his seat and resumes threading fuses and loading magazines.
>Husk, ostensibly just visiting for dinner on an invitation from the former following their recent rendezvous at the palace. He greets you with a nod only, as both of his clawed hands are occupied with measuring out some of the slosh that's been trickling out of his slapdash pot-still
>And of course, Cherri Bomb, the architect of the revolt, 'Enemy Of The Crown #1' herself
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>The pale cyclops offers you a sarcastic salute as a greeting before smoothing out the creases from what has become the rebellion's unofficially official uniform
>The best you'd been able to give her initially was a couple of the dull grey outfits that every sinner got to wear while they awaited their due date, in the general neighborhood of her size
>Which she'd promptly torn down into the "immodest" thigh and midriff-baring style that she'd preferred before both her first and second deaths
>Once you'd "accidentally" requisitioned a few uniform coats a bit too small for you, she'd accepted those as well
>After defacing the insignias that adorned them and ripping off the sleeves, of course
>The boots were the only article of clothing spared from any modifications, evidently she finds them quite comfortable

>You return her greeting with at least as much disdain for the gesture as she has
>You inquire as to how things went while you kept the queen's watchful eye off of The Pentagram
>The enforcer units at the main hanger?

>"Sabotaged as many of those shitty wind-up toys as we could without raising any alarms"

>The weapons depot?

>"Made off with everything we could that wouldn't be missed"

>The surreptitious recruiting efforts?

>"...we have as many as we need"

>You can tell from her tone that she didn't manage to net as many anarchic loons as she'd probably hoped
>Ah, well
>That's just the state of things at this point
>The cyclops frowns, looks you over, then forces a wicked and cocksure smile onto her face

>"So, how much longer before we can roll all these dice we've been collecting?"
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>A week or two
>The powers that be "upstairs" are all in a panic
>Solagne really overstepped the limits of her power when she agreed to your terms, no one was ready to fulfill the demand
>It seems they're all scrambling to put some kind of safe procedures or somesuch in place for your audience with The Creator
>...and that not a single one of them really has a concrete idea as to what should be done
>The likes of you and your sister have never set foot in Heaven before, and they're all at a loss as to how to handle you, in spite of their ambassador's endless supply of advice
>Part of you feels just a bit of contempt for the whole farce
>Say what you will, you brought Solagne down to The Ninth Circle, where no angel had ever tread for millenia, in short enough order
>Cherri and the others shrug
>That's not part of their problem

>"Well, looks like we'll just be sitting around with one hand on the TV tuner and the other down our pants for a while"

>Indeed

>"Just keep your head down, Your Highness"

>More sarcasm on those last two words, but a cheerful, friendly sort of sarcasm

>"You do your thing, and we'll hand the rest when the opportunity comes knockin'"
>"Until then..."

>Cherri rises from her seat and struts over to where Husk is laying down glasses of white lightning
>She snags two, and hands one off to you
>Angel grabs another, and finally Husk puts the bottle aside and takes one for himself
>A dull clink and a wet slurp of harsh, burning liquor on parched lips as you all drink a toast

>Here's to high treason, may it swiftly topple the neat and ordered system you're all living in

And that's what I'll call the end of my contribution. Sorry it took forever, I'm busy with a new job.
Pastebro: you can probably just tack this on to the part that was already extant instead of making this a new entry, I didn't add all that much
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can't, it won't let me.
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h ttps://archiveofourown.org/works/29345562/chapters/74073411
K here's a link to the chapter on the alternate archive. I might do a another De-Conditioning story that takes place in between this and whatever CUDdle Anon is going to do for his part in the future, but right now I'm going to focus my attention on another Fallen Exterminator chapter.
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Great! Looking forward to it!
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Nicely done!
I'll try to get the story wrapped up with the Heavenly visit, juxtaposed with Cherri's revolution.
I think I already shared the idea for the ending and epilogue before, so some of you might have an idea where the story will go.
In either case, I intend to wrap up the re-introductory greentext about the anons before starting any of that.