The applause reverberated through the club as the next act took the stage.
Tucker, feeling the evening's events weigh pleasantly on him, decided it was time to seek out a place to stay.
He approached the bar, manned by a bear demon whose demeanour was surprisingly void of malice.
"Excuse me," Tucker began, his voice steady and clear, "Would you happen to know where I might find a decent room for the night?"
The bartender, wiping a glass with a cloth that had seen better days, looked him over. "Sure thing," he grumbled, but not unkindly. "There's the Hellfire Inn down the road, decent rates, and cleaner than most. Avoid the Underbug Motel though, unless you fancy bedbugs."
"Much appreciated," Tucker replied, offering a nod of gratitude as he placed a generous tip on the counter—a 50 Soul bill accompanied by a clatter of Limb coins.
Returning to his table, he noticed the absence of the shark-like demons and felt the tension that had left with them.
He was escorted out by the imp who thanked him profusely for his patronage.
Tucker simply nodded and stepped outside, only to find the door guards missing and a scent in the air that caught his attention—blood mixed with the oceanic tang of sushi and the damp musk of wet dog.
A sudden commotion erupted.
A limo flanked by a convoy of SUVs tore through the gates and onto the street, indifferent to the bodies in their way.
Tucker inhaled deeply, picking up the familiar trace of his own alcohol among the metallic scent of blood.
With a subtle hand gesture, he vanished, leaving nothing but a swirl of leaves where he once stood.
......
Inside the speeding limo, Miss Valentina sat bound by a rope emitting a holy glow, rendering her helpless and powerless.
Across from her sat a hammerhead shark demon with a smug grin plastered on his face. She regarded him coolly, unimpressed by the theatrics of her kidnapping.
"So, you resorted to abduction, Mr. Hammerstein?" she said, her voice calm but edged with irritation. "I expected more creativity from Hell's most notorious loan shark."
Hammerstein leaned forward, the stench of his breath competing with the alcohol on his own breath. "Creativity's overrated, my dear. You should've accepted my offer when you had the chance. Now, you'll be mine by force," he sneered, a twisted version of a proposal.
She rolled her eyes discreetly, anger simmering beneath her poised facade. "Charming. Kidnapping and forced matrimony. You're quite the catch," she said dryly.
The caravan finally arrived at Hammerstein's Warehouse, which doubled as a vile den for the city's worst.
As they dragged her inside, her grace was undiminished, drawing admiring and lecherous looks from the thugs.
Hammerstein followed, revelling in the attention. "This is just the beginning, Valentina. Soon, all of Hell will see you by my side," he boasted.
Meanwhile, a mile away, Tucker stood perched atop a radio tower.
His figure was shrouded by the night, the only movement was the fluttering of his scarf in the breeze.
His eyes, though hidden, were locked onto the warehouse, taking in the scene with a predator's focus.
"The night's still young, it seems," Tucker murmured to himself. "And it looks like I've found where I can be of most use."
As the night's chill began to settle over the city, the stage was set for another act in the unfolding drama.
....
Outside Hammerstein's Warehouse, two of his lackeys, shark demons of the dimmest wattage, patrolled with an air of feigned importance.
"Hey, you think the boss'll let us get a photo with Valentina?" one asked, scratching his head with the barrel of his gun.
"Don't be stupid, she's for the boss only. Besides, she wouldn't want a photo with your pig ugly mug," the other jeered.
Suddenly, a crate toppled over nearby. Panicking, they shot at it, only to realize their mistake.
Other sharks converged, mocking their jittery reaction. Amidst the commotion, they failed to notice a figure slip by them and into the warehouse.
Inside, Tucker followed the distinct scent of his alcohol. His path led him to a grotesque shrine dedicated to Valentina.
Plushies, photos, and memorabilia adorned every inch, he really was obsessed with this woman.
In the centre of the room, Valentina maintained her poise despite her predicament.
Hammerstein ranted about his 'love' for her, his voice growing increasingly agitated. "I've watched you for years, Valentina. You were always meant to be mine!"
Valentina couldn't help but laugh, her voice melodious even in captivity. "Oh, mon cher, you are delusional. Your 'love' is nothing but a creepy obsession."
Enraged, Hammerstein slapped her. She didn't flinch, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
She kept slowly letting off some jabs about how she would never love someone like him and how pathetic he was.
But before she could say anymore he started choking her with anger and said" Forget the marriage, how about I just kill you after I fuck your pretty little ass."
Valentina let out a choked voice but even then, she didn't show a hint of fear.
Her consciousness started to fade... but then the pressure around her neck suddenly disappeared...she was able to breathe again.
The hammerhead looked confused as he felt something hit him, he looked down and saw it was a small wooden...ducky?
"Huh!...What the Fu—"
BOOOOOOOOM!!!
His entire face deformed as the back of a fist smacked and hit it with such force that the shark had crashed through multiple walls before having his subordinates stop his momentum.
Valentina looked up, her eyes meeting Tucker's. "Ah, the mysterious VIP," she remarked, a hint of amazement and confusion in her tone.
Tucker extended a hand, helping her to her feet. "You okay?" He asked untying the rope wrapped up around her.
'This rope...this might come in handy in the future.'
"Yes, thanks to you," she replied, rubbing her neck. "But what are you doing here?"
"I smelled trouble. And my alcohol," Tucker joked.
Her laugh was genuine, a rare sound in Hell. "A sinner with a heart. How unexpected."
'He isn't lying either...otherwise, I would have picked it up with my power...what an interesting man.'
Their moment was cut short as Hammerstein's goons closed in, guns blazing.
RATATATATATATATA!!!!!
Tucker scooped Valentina up, princess-style, and made a beeline for the middle of the warehouse. "Hold on tight," he instructed, teleporting them safely to the ground.
With Valentina clinging to him, Tucker raised his bokken high, then drove it into the ground.
"..."
After a few seconds, nothing happened and the sharks started to laugh.
They laughed, mistaking it for theatrics, but their laughter died as a tornado suddenly ripped through the warehouse.
SWOOOOSH!!!!
"Mon Dieu!" Valentina exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock and awe.
He...he created a literal Sharknado...
"Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!"
"Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuuuuuuck..."
"Mommmyyyyyyyyyy..."
"Just a little trick I picked up," Tucker said with a grin, readjusting his grip on her. "We should probably get out of here."
Miss Valentina looked up at Tucker in amazement...
'Who was this man...'