[Location: Hell: The First Ring - Pride - Gloutvile - 6hours later.] [Pic]
Hours melted into the backdrop of Hell's unyielding landscape as Tucker rode the stolen motorcycle.
The sky's deepening crimson was giving way to an abyssal black-red, signalling the descent of night, or what passed for it in Hell.
Up ahead, lights twinkled like distant stars, a city sprawling out to greet him.
He drove on, marvelling at the hellish panorama unfolding before him.
Neon signs buzzed and flickered, painting the night in vibrant hues of sin and temptation.
The city's vastness reminded him of Kyoto, yet it was a twisted echo, filled with the unknown and the uncanny.[Pic]
Tucker's entrance into the bustling city was seamless, as he joined the flow of bizarre vehicles and creatures.
His eyes wide with fascination, he took in the sights of a world so alien to the one he left behind.
To blend in and avoid unwanted attention, he adjusted his scarf to cover more of his face, the fabric acting as a makeshift hood.
The streets were alive with activity and anarchy. Sounds filled the air: music, shouting, the crackle of fire, and the clash of brawls.
It was chaos, unchained and raw, and through it all, Tucker navigated with curiosity and caution.
Suddenly, his metal steed sputtered and jerked. The bike shuddered to a halt; Tucker cursed under his breath.
"Seems you're tired too, eh?" he said to the bike, not realizing the issue of fuel.
...
With the motorcycle abandoned, Tucker set off on foot, searching for an inn or some semblance of shelter he could crash in for the night.
He attempted to engage with the locals, but the interactions were less than hospitable.
"Fuck Off!!!!"
"You want some sugar...Ten thousand Souls." A prostitute said as if it was a bargain.
Dismissive waves, curses, and hostile glares were all he received in exchange for his polite inquiries.
As he wove through the streets, Tucker's attention was caught by a flickering lightbox displaying what he soon learned was a television broadcasting '666 News Channel'.
The reports were grim: News of the recent extermination that passed and other disturbing news.
Yet to Tucker, who had seen far worse, it was of little concern. "A week late for the excitement, it seems," he muttered to himself, unbothered.
He continued his stroll through the city before it brought him to a bar, distinct from the rest due to the snaking line of hopeful demons stretching down the street.
They whispered about Miss Valentina and her alluring beauty, clutching their plain white tickets like precious lifelines.
Tucker's hand unconsciously brushed against his pocket, feeling the ticket he had snagged from the imp leader's bike.
Examining the ticket, he noted the golden letters that set it apart from the others.
It wasn't just a ticket; it was an invitation, and his instincts told him it was significant. With a hum, he approached the VIP line, where two burly dog demons stood guard.
"VIP only," one of the guards grumbled as Tucker approached. "Back of the line."
Tucker said nothing, simply presenting his golden-lettered ticket.
The guard scanned it sceptically, only for his eyes to widen as the scanner flashed green. "My apologies, sir," he stammered, stepping aside. "Right this way."
Inside, a small imp with an eager grin greeted Tucker. "Welcome, sir! I'll show you to your seat." Tucker followed, his presence drawing a mixture of awe and envy from those in the regular line.
He settled into his seat, a plush throne among benches, and allowed himself a small, contented smile.
"Not a bad turn of events," he mused, waiting for the show to begin.
...
[Location: Hell: The First Ring - Pride - Gloutvile - The Hellfire Bar]
Tucker reclined in his seat, the throne-like chair setting him apart from the rest of the VIPs.
He glanced around, observing the other tables occupied by a variety of demon nobility.
To his left, avian demons perched, their neon-red eyes cutting through the dim light, while to his right, shark-like demons bared their teeth in a display of intimidation.
One caught Tucker's gaze and snarled, "What the hell are you looking at?" Tucker merely raised an eyebrow and turned away, dismissing the challenge with a sip from his conjured bottle of homemade sake.
The imp waiter, noting Tucker's unique drink, hesitated before asking if he desired anything from the bar. "No need," Tucker replied, his voice smooth as the drink he conjured.
"I prefer my own brew." The imp nodded and moved away to attend to the other guests.
As time trickled by, the bar's atmosphere thickened with anticipation.
Suddenly, the room plunged into darkness, and a single spotlight beamed onto the stage. There she was, Miss Valentina, the siren of the evening.
Her beauty was undeniable; she had a captivating presence that shimmered under the stage lights.
Her skin was a rich, velvet tone, and her multiple arms moved with a grace that was almost hypnotic.
Her dress sparkled, clinging to her form in a way that left little to the imagination, and her eyes held the crowd in a silent thrall.[Pic]
The crowd erupted with applause and whistles, the shark demons revealing their predatory grins.
Valentina simply smiled, bringing a finger to her lips. "Shhh, mes chéris," her voice a melody with a French-Italian lilt, silencing the crowd instantly.
"Thank you for gracing me with your presence tonight. I hope my songs will enchant you as much as your attendance honours me," she announced.
As she began to sing "La Seine," her voice wove through the air, as tangible as the alcohol in Tucker's hand.
The audience was enraptured, swaying gently to the mellifluous notes. Valentina descended from the stage, her song unfaltering as she moved among the guests who seemed to hang on her every note.
When she reached the VIP section, her gaze found Tucker.
He was taking a swig from his bottle when her hand reached out, plucking it from his grasp.
There was a momentary pause in the music, and she sniffed the bottle curiously. After taking a swig, her eyes lit up with surprise and delight.
"Mmm, que c'est bon!" she exclaimed, giving Tucker a flirtatious smile while clutching the bottle to her chest.
Tucker, unfazed by the envious stares piercing his back, simply gestured for her to keep it.
She leaned in, her hand brushing his cheek in a playful stroke. "Merci, monsieur," she whispered before returning to the stage.
The room erupted into cheers and applause as she finished her song. "Thank you, thank you! Please, enjoy the rest of your evening with our next performers," she said, blowing a kiss to the audience.
Then, with a final wink to Tucker, she disappeared backstage.
Tucker sighed, the corners of his mouth turning up in a slight smile as he summoned another bottle of his homemade alcohol.
"Quite the night," he mused, his voice a low murmur lost in the clamour of the crowd's excitement.
...