Hell's Actor-Chapter 98: Brewing Storm

CBC, Commonwealth Broadcasting Corporation, was a British public service broadcaster headquartered in London.

It boasted a rich history that could be traced back to the early 20th century.

Established during the heyday of the British Empire, CBC’s reach extended beyond language and culture.

For over a century, they had been operating across the Commonwealth nations. From Canada to India, from South Africa to Australia, their influence was unimaginable.

They covered the world wars, made drunks laugh with dry humor in the 70s, provided highlights of football games in the 80s, and educated children about the world better than schools ever could.

Radios, podcasts, TV programs, an international newspaper, online articles, magazines—they had their hand in every piece of media that one could possibly name.

They talked about music, sports, news, business, technology, and culture. For their contribution to the British heritage, they were honored by the royal family multiple times.

In the headquarters of this prestigious company, two utterly exhausted employees were having a little chat in the break room.

"Have you heard from Devin?" the ginger man asked, sipping scalding hot tea.

The blonde female employee, who was only recently recruited, nervously shifted.

"His agent called yesterday."

"And?" the man expectantly asked.

"They have refused."

"Seriously?" He reeled back in shock. "After holding talks for over a year? Now, he ditches us?"

His eyes were as large as the bagels in his hand.

"What transpired? We said we would pay!"

"It’s—" The girl sighed. "They think we are trying to imitate OPS."

"What?"

"You know that show they released last year?"

He bit into his bagel and snapped his fingers as realization struck.

"Yeah," the girl continued, "they think we are trying to copy that show for easy success. They think it’s cheap."

"I mean, they aren’t completely wrong." He threw up his hands. "That is what the executives want. They saw their success, and now they want the same from us. Cheap or not, it is what it is."

"It doesn’t present us well."

"Well, fine. But is that wanker blind or what? Couldn’t he borrow his nan’s spectacles to read the synopsis? It has a fun premise. It could be something, I reckon."

"You know how comedians these days have big egos." She nervously tapped on the table. "He has a special with Trinix lined up, and apparently, they are also negotiating a movie."

"Why did the cunt lead us around, then? Does he not like mockumentaries? Does he want me to get sacked? How does a rat from Birmingham get—"

"Don’t say that!"

She quickly threw a glance at the room. Thankfully, no one was around.

"You will get us both in trouble."

"I am not wrong."

He chewed on his bagel and talked with a moist mouth.

"Take a week to look at our options. We will have to find someone funny and charming. I don’t care if it’s an actor, an actress, a musician, or a mule. Just get me someone who looks half decent and knows how to keep himself from being a fool."

***

"What are you doing?" Hyerin asked, peeking over her friend’s shoulder.

Averie did not so much as spare her a glance. "Setting alarms."

"So many?" Her eyes widened. "All of them are set for the night, too. Why?"

Averie quickly hid the phone in his pocket.

"Uh, you know how it is."

"What? No, I don’t. What’s the matter? Tell me."

Averie stared down at her with the seriousness of a man on a toilet bowl.

’How else am I supposed to last 6 hours in Lilith’s Womb?’

He didn’t know how often he would find himself there, but he certainly did not want to spend as long as he did last time around.

So, he took drastic measures. He set an alarm for every hour between midnight and six in the morning.

’Forget the constant danger; I don’t want to die of boredom.’

"Tell me, Averie!" Hyerin yelled. "Is everything alright?"

"Uh, yeah." He looked away shyly. "It’s just... I like peeing in the night."

"What?"

"Peeing while watching the moon is an experience worth gold." He blushed coyly. "It’s so pleasurable."

Hyerin looked at Min-Ha as if she could provide her with some sort of answer. Alas, the poor girl was just as confused.

"Say that—Okay, there—you know what, I don’t know. I—I hope you have a beautiful and prosperous life."

Averie patted her shoulder. "Thank you for not judging me."

"And thank you for ruining my day."

"Come on, don’t say that. You are breaking my heart."

"Yeah, sure."

Averie smiled at her and made his way towards the bathroom, leaving the two ladies to confirm their schedule for the day on a call with Elvin Production.

He closed the door, locked it, and looked at himself in the mirror.

The reflection staring back was unmistakably his, but Averie could see the shadow of a different personality stirring in the depths of his gaze.

’No one will notice, right?’

He was paranoid.

’Do I have to worry about this now?’

He splashed some water on his face and looked back at the mirror.

"If you try anything funny, I will ignite myself," he whispered maniacally.

He unbuttoned his shirt and traced the tattoo on his chest.

Right over his heart, there were now two letters sitting proudly next to each other. Two Ps for two sins.

He tapped on his chest. ’This is so unnerving that I can’t even make a joke about it.’

"Advance payment, did he call it?"

He remembered Lucifer’s exact words:

’You will find it invaluable soon. A Hellion should not refuse out of fear of danger. Your life may depend on it.’

"I don’t fear for my life, old friend," Averie whispered. "I fear for others."

The shadow in his eyes shifted.

"Monsters should be shackled, not released."

***

In the heart of a bustling street in Fukuoka was a bar in the basement of an inconspicuous building.

Even though the walls looked ill-maintained, the interior of the bar was sparkling like gold.

Sitting in the private room of the classy establishment were three middle-aged men, whispering and drinking sake.

"So, what have we heard?"

"We are to move soon."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely."

"Does Boss know about it?"

"Sure, he does."

On the arms of the men, climbing up their necks, were extensive dragon tattoos glimmering in red and green.

The three were dressed in suits, but they looked nothing like office workers. Their arms were large, their shoulders broad, their chests wide, and their eyes determined.

"Did they say when?"

"Today."

The man in the middle sighed.

"They have no qualms about ruining our reputation, huh?" He sipped his cup of sake and banged it on the table. "If the previous boss were alive, he would be ashamed of this."

The one on his left shook his head. "I don’t believe it. He liked making celebrities see reason."

"Not in broad daylight."

"He was smart."

The tattoos on the side of their necks had a hidden symbol. It read:

’Isshin.’

"What, then?" one of them asked.

"Let’s get to it." The man in the middle got up and wrung his knuckles. "Call the men. Get the bicycles and baseball bats. We will do it the old-fashioned way."

He cracked his neck.

"Let’s have some fun."

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