Choke (Starring King Isroh and Uzma)

Saturday nights were always booming in the great Hell Hound bar. The music was pounding as demons crawled in the club as if they were normal people. The king, however, rather than upon his throne in his office, was currently sitting at the bar, glued to his phone.

He was dressed a bit more formally than most would be for a night in a booze joint, his black slacks clinging to his body in a manner that screamed they were custom tailored. A dress shirt the color of a smooth red wine, cuffs rolled up a good half an inch above where they normally would be, with golden cufflinks in the shape of a small skull. His perfectly shined shoes, showing their scarlet soles as he had them propped up into the barstool next to him. One arm rested on the bar, tangled through his curly hair like ink as he leaned over. Lilac eyes focused on a tiny screen is much amusement.

The king ignored most of the party around him, in favor of the newest episode of Hell’s Kitchen.

The bartender has been supplying him a healthy supply of rocky margaritas, extra rim salt, with top shelf tequila. As soon as one was empty, another replaced it. The king seemed fully absorbed, however he did perk as a rather beautiful woman made her way toward the bar. He notes he was currently resting his feet on the only open stool and moves to a more socially acceptable position, crossing his legs under the bar.

A bit went by, enough for him to suck down his 5th fish-bowl margarita before there seemed to be a bit of a commotion at the front door. A mousy looking man squeezes by the bouncers, cutting the line entirely. His clothes were disheveled, his nose a bloody mess and both eyes dark with bruising. The bouncers had made a light attempt to stop him, but at the first touch, they backed away, choosing to hold back the annoyed crowd instead.

This doesn’t do much to draw Isroh’s attention, but the young man stands sheepishly until the king looks up from his phone, pulling a headphone from his ear and just staring blankly.

“I-I I’m so sorry I-”

Isroh raises an eyebrow tentatively as the man shutters, almost breaking down into tears before him.

“Jesus, calm down.” Isroh waves to the bartender who passes a shot of vodka over, to which the king then passes to the sniveling man.

After downing the alcohol and coughing profusely, he finally manages to talk in a somewhat coherent manner. “I got robbed! Everything I have is gone.”

The stare Isroh gave could kill, violet eyes flashing crimson for a split second, sending the man back into a craven panic. However, one deep breath later, and a sip of booze has the demon king cooling off once again. First week on the job, everyone gets shaken down eventually. I’ll send someone to find the fucker and send him back into the pit from which he came.” Isroh groans.

“About that... “ The man returns to his sheepish demeanor, averting his eyes once more to stare at the floor.

There was a brief awkward pause as Isroh handed him another drink just to get him to spit it out.

“They were humans.”

The silence was deafening.

“Gotta be fuckin kidding me. How much did they take?”
“All of it.”
“How much is all of it?”
“About 5 bags of speed, 3 rocks, some grass and about 50 doses of Nepenthe.” The man’s voice begins to shiver into a whimper as the king grows more and more annoyed.”

“Between how many people?”
“4. Two women and two men… does the dog count?”

Isroh just pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, his shadow dancing along the counter from the strobe lights morphing a bit more into the insidious.

“Wh-what’s gonna happen I-”
Isroh holds up a finger to silence the rambling man.
“What’s going to happen is you are going to sit here, have a few drinks and then we're going to talk about a change in positions. I’m going to try to track down a bunch of humans before they do 50 doses of nempeth and end up killing themselves or something.” The demon stands, groaning in pure disappointment.

The dealer blinked in confusion as he was pushed into Isroh’s vacated barstool. “So… you aren’t mad?” He stammers.

“Oh, I’m absolutely furious.” Isroh chuckles in a nonchalant manner. “Just at the situation, not particularly at you.” He pats the man on the shoulder before turning to work his way through the crowd.

Although Isroh had downed roughly 7 fishbowl margaritas, absolutely loaded with booze, he was not even remotely shaken. Demons had a liver of steel, truth be known, he drank mostly for taste. Those margaritas tasted amazing.

The king devil hadn’t seemed to notice he was being tailed as he cleared his way past the crowd with ease. Most people chose to clear the way, some who seemed to be first timers at the bar didn’t seem to pay him much mind. His gate only somewhat hurried, but otherwise he seemed way too relaxed for a man who may or may not be off the go crack some heads. A few of the huge bouncers open the door for the king, upon closer inspection, both men wore the exact same face in slightly different shades. One of the men whispers something in Isroh’s ear as he passes, but he didn’t bother to react. Perhaps he hadn’t heard his bouncer?

Isroh was waiting on the curb for a bit until a valet brought around a loud muscle car. A 1965 Shelby GT 350, painted a glossy red reflecting every light that so much as touched her. The valet pulls this monster of a vehicle to the curb passenger door side first and stands aside.

Isroh opens the passenger side door and leans against the trunk lid. Just as the bouncer had warned, he really had been followed. He had to take the moment to admire the amount of balls it took to follow a drug lord on his own turf.

“Come on, get in.” He smirks, calling out to the woman with the braids. His arms crossed as his head tilts to the side, Hair cascading over his shoulder as the light around his head seems to shift... just for a moment aa shadow of spiraling horns flashes against the street lights. He recognized her from the bar, therefore he only had to assume she wasn’t too drunk or high to not overhear him earlier. She was too far involved just to leave here. “If you want to dance with the devil, may as well lead, right?”

He spins his keys around on his finger, eyes scanning over his surprise companion. He had to admit, she was pretty. At the very least taking her for a spin in the car would be fun. “I’m Isroh.”

He couldn't quite figure out what she was at the moment. She absolutely was not a demon and a cop would not be so brazen as to get spotted by a bouncer tailing him... or to have been drinking under cover. She didn't exactly smell human either. And was that his umbrella? He'd have to ask about that later.

Isroh couldn’t help but blink in light shock that Uzma didn’t have to be coaxed too much into the car. She was definitely not a cop as surely he’d be a gunpoint by now. Interesting. He lazily hauls himself off his car, closing the door behind Uzma like a gentleman.

The inside of Isroh’s car was in immaculate condition, leather on the bucket seats, still soft as if they were brand new. Isroh settles himself into the drivers seat, kranking the key and sending the engine roaring to life… to which the radio flashes up and blares Taylor Swift.

With a surprised jump he quickly spins the dial on the volume to off so that Shake it Off wouldn’t be a distraction from his bubbling rage. “A bunch of delinquent kids and their little dog too.” Isroh groans, putting the car in gear and breaking no less than three driving laws all at once and breaking numerous noise ordinances as if they were nothing. “I’m willing to check out where Raz was selling. His van should still be around where he was working” Isroh groans, pinching the bridge of his nose at the sheer stupidity of his imps.

“So… do you always just get in the car when mob bosses tell you to? Because that seems kind of dangerous.” Isroh shrugs, head lulling back against the seat as he cruises through LA. “I mean don’t get me wrong. I appreciate it, but seems kind of like a bad idea.” He offers, going back to turn up the radio.

“Imma put my hands up and play my song-” Isroh sings along under his breath before realizing that this probably was not the idea for a mob boss to be like. “Sorry. Look, I could care less about the street drugs, I just hope they didn’t take that Nepenthe. Raz was selling the formula meant for demons. I have no idea what it does to humans. Never wanted to find out… currently the goal is not to find out.”

Shaking his head as he turns down an ally way. “So yes, We’re about to give the biggest drug talk a bunch of teenage shitheads have ever gotten or we’re hiding bodies. I don’t know which.” The mustang settles down into a low rumble as Isroh slowly pulls into a shady dead end street and sure enough there was a white van sitting there, back doors thrown open and the whole thing was gutted.

The devil gives a harsh, slow blinbd, face suddenly growing cold, but not with any sort of fear. Rather his jaw clenched up as the slightest fizz of rage began to well up within. “Nepenthe is my own drug, but there’s two formulas. One for humans which really is basically weed, doesn’t do much, very mundane downer. The demon formula, however, requires a bit of the arcane. It’s supposed to substitute the need for human blood, which is why none of the thousands of demons here over run the humans. However… So far I’d done a good job keeping it out of human hands.”

He taps on the steering wheel for a second, giving it some thought. “I have no idea what a demon formula will do to a man. I haven't thought to be cruel enough to test it, Could do nothing, could be really bad.” Isroh throws it into park and groans under his breath at the sight of the little huddled bodies at the end of the alley. “Fuck.” He breathes as he throws the car in park letting the engine die with a huff. Getting out he once again shakes his head before approaching.

“Hey. You guys do this shit?” Isroh growls, resuming his intimidating ruse, arms crossed as he blocks off the exit, keeping an eye on Uzma, only hoping she wouldn’t try to arrest him or some kind of hero stuff. The little group of bodies shifts… almost all in unison as they snicker, ignoring the demon king right behind them, as if he didn’t exist. He looks back at Uzma again, as if not at all expecting this, he decides here goes nothing. Isroh reaches out to one of their shoulders just as a demented dog barking makes him jerk his hand back, for the huddle of teenagers parts for a huge creature that could only be described as some kind of dog.

It was monstrous, with sickly gray and hairless skin. It gave out an otherworldly cross between a bark and whimper as it’s jaw had split open and tentacles surrounded some kind of beak. It’s skull looked much bigger and it’s brain bulged from it’s head, almost as if it were in the process of absorbing it’s eyes. It lunged, tackling Isroh to the ground in pure shock and clamped it’s beak down into his forearm as he guarded his throat. Vines begin to snake forward but not fast enough to stop the group of mind-touched teenagers from turning on him, their transformations, similarly monstrous to the dog. Their jaws split and writing with tentacles, their forms gangly and hair having fallen out in clumps, leaving exposed and bulbous brains. They hiss in unison, as if all centrally connected in some kind of newly forming hivemind.

“Fuck.” Isroh groans, moving to throw the ‘dog’ back, only to find it firmly latched into his arm. He hauls himself off the ground and drives the dog back into the brick wall, slamming it twice before it finally let go. It hit the ground before skittering off to what these four illithids were hanging over, a man, with his head cracked like a coconut… and missing the contents of his skull. “Alright. Good talk. Got anything that can fix these guys? Or do we have to kill them?” He calls as his onyx swords manifest in his hands, his vines snaking in to help raise his defenses before the illithids were able to come to a group decision on an action. Examining Isroh’s arm, he finds himself bleeding, quite alarming as one singular attack shouldn’t have damaged him at all, yet he could feel the muscle shredded under his stone skin. They had to be magic of some kind. This could get really bad real fast if they didn’t figure out what to do about this.

Isroh groans as he tests his grip on his sword, finding himself unable to really clench his right hand. Muscle damage, gotta love it. Isroh’s blood drips down his arm like ink, welling up on the pavement. “oh what the fuck.” Isroh groans as if he were a child who just had more homework dropped upon his desk. Uzma’s glimmering light illuminates the ally, but rather it being dead and empty, it was packed tight with shambling bodies. Standing but completely devoid of any and all cognition. The illithids begin to back away from the pair as people begin emerging from the returned darkness to block their path. They seemed completely normal except for their headwear, each one seemed to have a brain latched onto their skulls, spider like legs burying themselves in the skins and on occasion twitching as the human it is hijacking moves.

“Sorry, toots. Didn’t have these in hell either.” The devil rolls his eyes as he very much acknowledges that technically the person who let these people get these drugs was him. No need to mention that right now. Gripping his swords and lunging at one of the shambling humans slicing clean through it’s raised fist as it moves in for a clumsy attack. Isroh withdraws his hand in disgust as blood hits his hand as he chooses to block the follow up fist with the blunt side of the sword. “It’s warm. They’re not zombies.”

The ball of energy soaring through the slow moving crowd into the hive of illithids, a hellish squeal as they all throw their hands up in front of their eyes to shield themselves from the light. Their skin singes with the energy, two dropping to the ground with the disgusting smell of burnt fishy flesh, stinking blood spilling. However one with a yellow sweater raises her hand to command the rest of the human thralls into full attack mode as the humans all begin sprinting. “You handle hentai-face. I’ll work with this crock of fresh bullshit.” Isroh whirls a sword over the man’s head cleaving the parasite in half and immediately he screams out, clutching the bloody nub Isroh left for him.

He lurches forward into the sprinting crowd, using the blunt side to keep the humans somewhat safe and slicing off brains left and right. Luckily, the parasites weren’t too smart and all the really did was be a meat shield while the other illithids began shuffling off down the alley.