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Author note - Welcome or welcome back, readers! Whoo, Season 2 started off with a bang, I can’t wait to see how things pan out. Thanks to everyone for the kudos, comments, and subscriptions for the last story, they are well appreciated and I hope to see your names pop up for this one as well!
This probably goes without saying, but is a sequel to my first story “The Dealbreaker Demon.” Many things won’t make sense if you haven’t read that one, ha ha. Enjoy!
Chapter 1: The Hazbin Guarantee
Hell, a supernatural realm inhabited by demons either indigenous or dead humans who had their souls sent down for their misdeeds. As one can imagine, what passed as “law-and-order” was at best inconsistent, and most commonly nonexistent. But despite this, a crude hierarchy existed defined by power and fear. And in the Pride Ring, where Sinners dwelled, the name of the game was the ownership and subsequent exploitation of souls to increase the dealmaker’s influence and strength.
While conceptually both parties of the deal could take advantage of their side, more often than not the relationship was overall negative, with the dealmaker abusing their power with little restraint — and even fewer recourses for the owned soul short of the dealmaker releasing them or erasure by Exorcist angels. It made for a grim reality, to say the least.
But one day, something extraordinary happened. Among the thousands that plummeted down from the world above, a Sinner arrived that could break such deals and take the power for themselves. Their own soul chained to a monstrous fiend, this faint ember within the shadows took to reside at the Hazbin Hotel where the Princess of Hell was trying to find a way to redeem souls. A place where their muted dullness, their grays as the world’s colors rushed by allowed them to feel hope after the betrayal they endured.
Latching onto that promise, the fiery-haired soul led a double life: one where they took part in the Princess’s experiment, slowly opening up again and pledging themselves to the denizens, a family they chose; the other targeting abusive dealmakers, freeing the souls under their control and giving those a fresh start. Their successes — and their strength— grew, as did their notoriety with the sovereign Overlords of the Ring, all vying to eliminate or use their unique ability to their advantage. All this as the fire demon’s dealmaker tortured them, their maltreatment growing more severe as time went on. But the spark of defiance never went out.
One such Overlord, a weapons dealer by trade, came across the princess’s patient, and her and her daughter’s worlds would never be the same again. As unlikely as it might’ve seemed, the four developed a bond, grew fond of each other’s presences, and in time, the fire demon found themselves with a second new family to call their own, and they began to feel genuine happiness. But the weight of their secrets grew heavier by the day, the fear of rejection becoming suffocating, much like the smoke the royal who kept their soul bound in an iron-clad grip exuded.
The decision would ultimately be taken out of their hands as they were found out and publicly outed in the most brutal fashion, falling into a despair-filled rage and nearly razing the city in the process. But true agony was yet to come, as what they feared came to pass: the weapons dealer wouldn’t hear their pleas and apologies and cast them out, leaving the fire demon utterly destroyed and saddened.
The Princess of Hell kept them from locking their heart away forever, showing them forgiveness and compassion that bordered on saintly — much more than the Heavenly court the fire demon called out for their hypocrisy. It came time to ask for the weapons dealer’s help against the angelic legion, and when the fire demon laid eyes upon her, ruby red eyes once filled with regret, anger, and hurt were filled with love again, having missed the lost piece of her family. They were complete once more.
Before the weapons dealer knew it, it was time for battle. And her fiery child was ready, newly freed from their oppressor and prepared to fight for all they had painstakingly found in Hell. The weapons dealer though, brimming with love but frightened of what they might do, that she might lose them, begged and prayed for them to stay with her, with her daughters. But the fire demon asked for her to have faith, promising that they’d find their way back to her, no matter what.
Tragically, what the weapons dealer had been afraid of came to be; while the fire demon decimated hundreds of angels alongside their friends, fought hard to take down the Goetia that returned to subjugate them once again, and bravely brought down Adam the first man, they could not stay unharmed. Died, in her arms.
She and her daughters screamed, mourned, and cried for the loss of their adoptive child and sibling, resigned to carry the burden of guilt by not standing at their side in the battle from the start for forever. Until something drew her back to where her loved was laid to rest, at the newly rebuilt Hazbin Hotel. And they stood before them all, redeemed, holy and alive. Bargained their way out of Heaven, serving to keep the sinners of Hell in check. All worth it to be back in the arms of the ones they loved. A miracle in the most unlikely of places.
Carmilla Carmine’s black painted lips curled up as she flipped through the book Charlie had written for Taylor, drawings and all. Well, to give her some credit, the drawings were much better than the ones she used for… other important presentations. But in certain depictions, there were tell-tale signs of the princess’s tears, if the smudges akin to watery blooms were any indication.
She smiled into her mug when two sets of footfalls echoed down the hall.
“Good morning, mijas.” Carmilla greeted happily as the girls joined her in the kitchen.
The bespectacled demoness simply walked past her. If not for Odette’s small hum of acknowledgment, she might’ve assumed her daughter hadn’t noticed her presence. Clara shuffled over to the island.
Carmilla shook her head. Unlike herself, neither Odette nor Clara were ‘early risers,’ with both girls needing a full cup of coffee in them before they fully awoke. “Taylor prepared some breakfast, even brewed coffee for you sleepy heads.”
Finally noticing their adoptive sibling’s absence, Odette glanced around. “They’re not here?”
“Afraid not. They had business on their turf before dropping by the Hotel for the grand re-opening, remember?” She informed as she rose from her seat and gently guided her youngest to one of the open spaces. Clara let her, simply hopping onto the empty barstool before promptly leaning forward, resting her forehead on folded arms.
There was a loud, deep roar in the distance and the trio turned their gazes out the balcony windows to the horizon. A wall of fire erupted from the ground, cloaking a portion of the Pentagram in a dome of flames before it went out, an invisible wavy effect still present in the air that evidenced that a barrier was successfully in place.
Black eyebrows furrowed as Odette observed the fire demon’s work. Since coming to reside with them, it wasn’t often that Taylor left without seeing the sisters off. “Why didn’t they wake us?”
“Yeah, we would’ve gone to help them before making our deliveries.” Clara mumbled into the countertop, not bothering to move.
“Don’t worry,” Carmilla assured as she affectionately patted Clara’s white puffy hair before setting a steaming cup of coffee at her side. “I made it clear that if they needed anything, that they should let us know.”
Clara huffed as she finally sat up and pulled the coffee mug towards her. “I just wished they would let us help.”
“You know how they are.” Odette sighed as she sat by her sister. The ascended fire demon was at times on par with their mother, feeling like they needed to take everything on their own.
“Then we should be vigilant in keeping on eye on them, just like they do with us.” Carmilla explained, divvying up the food Taylor made onto three plates and setting them in front of her daughters. Only once they both lifted their silverware did she take her own seat. “It’ll be up to us to make sure we aren’t pulled apart again.”
“I mean, it’s not like we can just go on jobs with them.” Odette muttered as she pushed the eggs and potatoes around on her plate.
“Maybe you should.”
“Really?”
“Who else could I count on to watch their back? I’ll let Taylor know they should expect some highly recommended backup to accompany them.”
Clara beamed. “Yes! Thanks mom! You’re the best!”
- x -
On one block of Pentagram City, among the endless sea of city sprawl, the denizens of the Pride Ring shuffled, strolled, and scampered about.
“C’mooonnn, you can’t bail yet!” slurred a drunken demon to a group of demonesses, his similarly inebriated buddies swaying behind him with cheeky grins. The ringleader staggered forward before holding onto her arms. “There’s no place a taxi would pick you up in this part of town anyway!”
The demoness pushed him away with a roll of her eyes. “Pfft, save it! If you really gave two shits ‘bout me, you’d pay my cab fare!”
Undeterred, he stumbled closer with a leery grin. “Aw, then why don’t I book us a suite at the Jackpot? A good fuck would loosen you right up! Eh? Eh?”
Teetering back a few steps, the tipsy demon’s back collided into a solid force, knocking him to the ground.
“What the hell!? That fuckin’ hurt, man!” He called out to the form continuing down the sidewalk, stride unchanged by their collision.
His buddies didn’t take well to the demon’s unfazed reaction, chasing after them. “Yo, get your ass back here!”
But when the posse stood in front of the figure, hazy drunken eyes widened in terror.
The sloshed demon clamped a heavy hand on the stranger’s shoulder from behind. “Hey, asshole. You just gonna walk away after plowing into me like that?” When he got no answer other than a stiffening of posture, he grew more agitated. “You owe me a fuckin’ apology! Get down on your knees, punk!”
“Dude, don’t.” One of his comrades hissed, voice serious. “Not this one!”
“Huh?” The drunkard drawled, not understanding his friend’s change in demeanor.
That’s when he felt it, a buzzing sensation thrumming along this palm as the air around him grew stifling warm. The figure turned partway, and his face fell.
It was like a platinum-hued fire took on sentience, with short, cropped hair flaring upwards like gravity wasn’t a thing and two blue-toned antennae traveling from their crown to almost touch their shoulders. The slender build and facial structures were juxtaposed against their masculine tones, making for a refined appearance that floated the line between male and female, leaving him momentarily bewitched. But that quickly took a back burner to the scathing glower locked on him. Golden eyes glowed eerily against black sclerae, an almost feral look that seemed to be looking right through him, into the deepest corners of his mind.
“Oh… well, uh…” There was a tense moment as he retracted his hand, the intense stare not leaving him. “S-Sorry. I should’ve been more careful.” He uttered, trying to smooth things over. The devices and lights around the street seemed to flicker and glitch out, and he felt his hair stand on end. Oh shit. He did his best to brace for whatever was to come, now feeling fully sober.
But instead of incinerating him on the spot or doing some heinously violent thing, the fiery face started to relax. The glow in their eyes faded as did the electrical disruptions and heated atmosphere, their clenched jaw giving way to a wry grin.
“Don’t sweat it, happens to the best of us.” Taylor said with a shrug, “But I think you should call it while you’re ahead, pal.”
“Uh, yeah, sure…”
With that, Taylor turned back, the wary group parting like shoals of fish as they resumed their trek.
For the sake of keeping the peace, Taylor let slide the manhandling, seeing as the responsible party was apologetic about it. While generally apathetic toward other demon’s threats and name calling, the ascended fire demon hated being touched. If it was from a loved one or someone they trusted, it was much more tolerable — dare say they even enjoyed it — but unwanted contact was a surefire way to get on their bad side.
Shaking off the lingering tension, they decided to cut through the entertainment district to get to their destination quicker. They were already running late, the barrier they erected over their territory taking a lot out of them. As a result, they opted to hoof it to the Hotel over flying, keeping their four wings and halo hidden when out on the street to discourage any more attention they got being an Overlord — or wandering hands. Passing by the main plaza, they pressed on, not paying heed to the anglerfish demon and a clawed bag across the street headed in the same direction as the two anchors for 666 News began to air on the big screen.
“Good morning, Pentagram City!” Greeted a humanoid demon in an expressive gas mask and blonde side-swept hair.
“This is Katie Killjoy.” His counterpart said chipperly, another humanoid demoness with pale skin, a blonde bob, and bright red eyes.
“And I’m Tom Trench.”
“Bringing you the latest in Hell’s hottest news.” Katie introduced as a crude drawing of Charlie decapitating an angel appeared between the two. “Tonight’s top story: what the fuck is going on at the Hazbin Hotel?”
“That’s right, Katie. It’s been a while since Heaven attacked Hell and Charlie Morningstar and the Hazbin Hotel brutally slaughtered the invading angels and kinda-sorta saved us from the Extermination.”
Katie proceeded to kick Tom off-screen. “When you’re done sucking toes, Tom, I’d like to remind you that Heaven still hasn’t made their next move.”
When Tom achingly climbed back into frame, Katie kept eye contact with the camera as she ruthlessly crushed his hand with her fist and he fell once more. “Are they coming back for revenge, or is this yearly nightmare finally over?”
Bandaging his hand, Tom chimed in as he took his seat. “Morningstar has declined to come on the show to comment,” He gave a fake cough and muttered under his breath. “Pussy.”
Katie slammed a hand on the desk. “But we will keep asking until we break her. Because the world needs to know, Tom...”
She grabbed Tom by the collar and dragged him closer, the camera panning to her intense look. “Will she stop at angels?” She pushed Tom aside before pointing into the camera. “Are you next?” She pulled up a quieve and a cat in each hand. “Is your dog or cat next?”
She shamelessly lobbed both animals at Tom, the gas masked anchorman screaming as he was being mauled. “Will her bloodlust ever be satisfied?”
The camera zoomed in on a crazed Katie while Tom threw his assailants away and limply leaned against the desk. “Who’s at the top of Charlie Morningstar’s hit list? Maybe it’s ME!”
Katie’s eyes glowed in exaggerated fear for a beat before abruptly calming down and sitting down. “This segment brought to you by…”
The two news reporters waved their hands cheerily, speaking in unison. “VokTek! ‘Trust us with your everything!’”
- x -
“This’ll be great. I’m looking forward to getting in there and fucking up some angels.”
“I love murder. I can’t wait to kill some angels.”
Taylor leaned against the railing of the second-floor mezzanine overlooking the Sinner-filled lobby, the line going out the door. Spying the crowd, they took the long way around to get inside, needing to mentally prepare themselves before jumping into the fray, so to speak. KeeKee hovered down and walked along the railing, head poised to receive pets.
“Hey KeeKee,” Taylor sighed as they scratched the one-eyed cat’s ears, rubbing their temple with their other hand. “I’m proof that redemption is possible, but something tells me it’s going to take one hell of a pitch to get these folks on board.”
Resuming their watch, Razzle took a suitcase up the stairs as Lucifer passed the dragon-goat butler, brushing his teeth while clad in a bathrobe, duck slippers, and hair curlers. At the top of the stairs, Alastor glared between his crudely fixed staff and the crowd, Taylor narrowing their eyes in return when the two momentarily locked eyes, a silent warning to him to not try anything. They chalked his sour mood up to frustration to having Lucifer living at the hotel full-time and losing to Adam.
Casting their gaze downwards, they overheard a guest bemoaning losing their room key while Vaggie stood at the reception desk, registering guests.
“Hello and welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. My name’s…” she paused for a second, thinking. “Uh, changing. For now, call me Vaggie. Have a lovely day, here’s your room key, thank you so much for staying with us.” She handed another guest a key. “Thanks for signing the guest book.” She was hit with a bit of déjà vu, voicing the sentiment to herself. “This is like being in the army.”
The former Exorcist then scowled at the empty space at the reception desk and called out to a certain deer demon. “I know you’re here, Alastor, could you help out, please?”
Teleporting through shadow, he leaned in mischievously before zipping around Vaggie. “Mm, this seems like a you problem, Vagene.”
Vaggie handed another guest a key with a smile. “Here you go.” Leaning out of reception, she narrowed her eye, asking pointedly. “And you. What happened to the whole ‘host of the hotel’ thing?”
Alastor just gave her an impish grin before teleporting away just as Vaggie was mobbed by reporters.
“Where’s Charlie? Where is Charlie Morningstar?” A horned female reporter with brown puffy hair that obscured her eyes asked. “Is it true she drinks angel blood to improve her ‘gay powers?’”
Among the crowd of potential guests, Lucifer downed a cup of coffee before Alastor appeared next to him, the two silently glaring at each other.
A monochrome cartoon character like reporter brought his camera close to Vaggie. “Is she killing off more angels? The public has a right to know.”
All the while, the squabbling intensified, Lucifer wildly swiping at Alastor as the taller demon held him away at arm’s length, much to his amusement. When the Radio Demon laughed at him, the King of Hell angrily threw a rubber duck at his face. Offended, Alastor glared scathingly before both walked or teleported away.
Back at the reception desk, a reptilian reporter with three eyes inquired further. “Is it true this hotel is recruiting a hellish army? And should I divorce my wife?”
Vaggie blinked, confused. “Um, no. What?”
Seeing that Vaggie needed a lifeline, Taylor made their way around to get Charlie, passing by the hotel bar on the way to the lounge. Poor Husk was working overtime pouring drinks for a gaggle of demons, all of whom seemed determined to get wasted on the double. He set down a tray and called out orders.
“I have three ‘Torments and Tonics,’ four ‘Virgin Sacrifice’ Piña Coladas,” the winged cat demon held up a red drink in a martini glass, unsure. “And something called a ‘Harder Daddy?’”
Having plopped himself on one of the barstools, Lucifer watched in vague disgust at the moniker before Angel Dust plucked the glass from Husk, Fat Nuggets revealed to be eating from a small bowl on the counter.
“Oh, that one’s for me. My favorite drink and life motto.” The spider downed the cocktail with a satisfied cheer. “Whoo! That’s a hard daddy.”
Husk huffed, eyeing Fat Nuggets. “Angel, how about you help me serve these drinks instead of letting your pig gobble my nuts.”
Angel Dust gasped, tossing his glass aside. “Husk, don’t say it like that!” He reached over to cover his porky pet’s ears, speaking lovingly. “He’s little. Besides, I am workin’. I’m celebrity endorsin’ the hotel.” He cleared his throat, posing with his legs outstretched across the counter. “Who wants to come,” he ran his fingers up his legs to his chest fluff suggestively. “Stay at the Hazbin Hotel with me?”
The bargoers went wild.
“I love cum!”
“I-I’ve seen all his movies! I’ve jerked off to all his movies!” Cried a slug sinner, pointing excitedly to the porn star.
“Take it off!”
Annoyed, Husk walked past Angel’s adoring fans to the other end of the bar to a pink-haired cyclopean demoness sitting with a drink in hand. “Cherri, how about you? You’re part of the hotel now, right? Why don’t you help out?”
The bombshell demoness was quick to correct him. “Whoa there, pussycat. I’m,” she made air quotes. “‘Hanging’ at the hotel. I’m not staying at the hotel. Big difference. I ain’t booked a room or nothin’.”
Husk gave her a knowing look. “Sure. Anyway,” he turned his attention back to Angel Dust. “Get your pig off my bar.”
Angel Dust picked up his pet and glared at Husk, the latter smirking mirthfully. Vaggie flew over with her wings.
“Has anyone seen Charlie? Or Taylor for that matter? There are reporters here asking some fucked up questions.”
Angel Dust spoke up. “I think I saw her in the lounge.” He smiled, petting Fat Nuggets. “She’s been keeping Pentious’ little egg company.”
“Thanks.”
“Uh, when you see her, can you ask if she’s still up for the therapy session today?” Angel requested, petting a content Nuggets in his arms, mismatched eyes softening. “I’m kinda gettin’ used to talking about my feelings and junk.”
Meanwhile, Taylor arrived outside the lounge, noticing the door was slightly ajar. Their hand paused, poised inches from the handle when they heard soft sniffling on the other side. Peering through the crack in the door, their heart sank.
Charlie was with Frank the Egg Boi, sobbing on the floor in front of a shrine dedicated to Sir Pentious.
Frank pointed to a series of progressively more dramatic crying Pentious busts, explaining each in turn. “And here’s when Pentious cried after he was caught spying. And here’s when Pentious cried after you forgave him. And here’s when Pentious cried when he first lost to Cherri Bomb. And here’s when Pentious cried after telling me I’m the most handsome Egg Boi he’s ever seen.” He made an admission as he handed Charlie a tissue. “I made that one up.”
Absolutely moved, Charlie cried as she agreed with Frank. “He truly was the best of us. Or at least the most snake.”
Frank fished out a familiar-looking device, though it was severely damaged. He held it out to Charlie. “This is Pentious’ death ray. He’d want you to have it.”
Charlie sobbed harder, clutching the ray gun to her chest. “He invented the best things. Even though a lot were scary weapons that hurt people.” Her voice rose in pitch, eyes welling up again. “But we were working on that.”
Taylor lingered for a moment, then gently stepped away from the door when footsteps sounded down the hall. They left Charlie to her grief, silently wishing the blonde would have the courage to bare her heart out to someone like she had done for all of them.
Wandering down the dim corridors, the soft glow of the enchanted lanterns painting gold across the walls, their thoughts lingered on the truth.
Sir Pentious wasn’t erased after the battle on Extermination Day; he was up in Heaven, redeemed and alive — they hoped. Taylor had told everyone they were sent down to keep an eye on Hell on behalf of Heaven, but that wasn’t true. They had fled when Sera, in her fear of what their ascension would bring, for killing Adam, for possessing celestial fire, ordered that they be reincarnated. Reborn on Earth but stripped of their memories, the person they were erased from existence. The High Seraphim had called it a mercy, but it was a fate worse than Hell, in their opinion.
Worse yet, Taylor might’ve condemned Sir Pentious to the same fate. The possibility ate at their conscience, and they vowed not to let anyone know until they could find out either way for sure. For if Charlie or the others discovered that the reward for redemption was reincarnation, it’d destroy her, lead her to think she was leading her people to ultimate betrayal instead of salvation.
So they would keep Hell in line, show Heaven they had nothing to worry about so Sera would reconsider her ways in the face of real evidence. The only person who knew their secret was Lucifer, and he agreed to keep quiet for Charlie’s benefit.
Back at the lounge, Vaggie pushed open the door, her girlfriend looking up in shock. The blonde kept her back to Vaggie.
“Charlie, there you are. Did you maybe want to come down and say hi to the new guests? We could really use your help. There are reporters here and…” she noticed her girlfriend quickly cleaning herself up. “Are you okay?”
She turned and gave a strained smile, eyes slightly red-rimmed. “Uh huh. Everything is great.” She chuckled nervously when Vaggie closed the distance. “Great great. What wouldn’t everything be great?” She hugged her girlfriend as her voice grew tense. “We beat Adam, and the hotel’s packed,” she spoke quickly, voice dark and frantic. “Even though lots of people died,” she then perked up, voice back to normal. “But-but it is so great.”
Vaggie pulled back, sensing the Charlie’s distress. “Babe, I feel like you’re still processing what happened. If you want, I can handle the hotel duties, talk to those reporters?”
Charlie was aghast at the notion. “Wha…? Pfft, it’s fine. I’m perfectly calm. Calm and fine. Fine and calm.” She assured before grabbing Vaggie. “Let’s talk to those reporters. I bet they want to know all about how redemption works, just like everyone else who’s staying here, right?”
“Right. Yeah.” Vaggie replied nervously.
- x -
After sidling past a group of guests watching Niffty wiping the floor, Taylor gravitated toward Cherri Bomb staring at Sir Pentious’ memorial painting.
“Fuoco, ‘bout time ya showed up!” Angel Dust intercepted, drinks in hand. “Ready for yer grand debut?”
Taylor had buried their worries down deep, giving the spider demon a cheeky smile at his affectionate nickname for them. “Well, can’t be worse than the last one, right?”
The bar was pretty low, considering they got shot and nearly died the last time they were in front of a large audience.
“Hey, ya got us ‘round this time, plus, most folks are scared shitless of ya, the o’ so powerful Dealbreaker Demon.” He nudged them in the ribs playfully.
Chuckling lightly, the two approached the forlorn looking Cherri, Angel gently offering her a drink. “Harder daddy?”
Taking the cocktail, the cyclopean demoness sighed while pacing in front of the painting. “Why’d he do it? Why’d he just go and kill himself to save me?” Looking down at her drink, Angel and Taylor smiled, letting her vent. It was rare when she showed vulnerability.
“We were rivals. Like, all I’d ever done was as fuck with him. But he liked me?” She threw her drink down in frustration. “Why?!”
Angel Dust moved to her side. “I mean, what’s not to like? You’re kinda cool, kinda hot.”
Taylor slid to her other side. “Plus you make the most brilliant explosive contraptions anyone’s ever seen.” They added, using Pentious’ words of admiration for her.
Cherri smirked at the compliments.
“He probably liked your ‘big bombs.’” Angel teased, flicking her chest.
Shoving him away, she chuckled. “Fuck off.” Her smile dropped, an admission slipping out. “I just wish I could see him again.”
Angel Dust and Taylor shared a knowing look before Cherri smiled in embarrassment, quickly pounding her fist into her palm. “To punch him in the face for dying and shit.”
Seeing Charlie and Vaggie coming down the stairs, Taylor waved the two off. “Well, that’s my cue. Wish me luck.”
The Princess gasped at the sheer multitude of people milling about. “Sweet baby demon spawn! There are a lot of Sinners here.”
The reporters spotted her and made a beeline over. “Oh, there she is. Hey, Charlie! Question over here. Come here. Look at me. Charlie!”
The puffy haired reporter stepped up over the clamor. “Charlie, are we at war with Heaven?”
The cartoon reporter lined up a shot. “Charlie, how many angels did you kill personally?” He leaned in with his camera. “Do they scream?”
The reptilian reporter butted in. “Hey Charlie, how do angels scream when they die? Is it like…” he gave a bird-like shriek as an example. “And should I kill my wife?”
Charlie staggered, thrown off and overwhelmed. “Vaggie, can you come, uh…?”
Her girlfriend was quick to jump in, Taylor joining her to keep the throng at bay. “Okay, people, back it up, back it up.”
Backing away to catch her breath, Charlie bumped into someone. Whirling around, a short blue-gray angler fish demon in a dark green-gray lab coat, yellow goggles, and black gloves stood hunched over with a living bag at his side.
“Oh!” Charlie yelped before laughing enthusiastically. “Hello there, I’m Charlie.” She leaned over with a jaunty arm swing. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. And what is your name?”
Recoiling slightly by her enthusiasm, the newcomer straightened out before adjusting his goggles and steepling his claws with a grin. “My name is Baxter.”
“Ooh, Baxter. That’s a fun name. Are you checking in with us?” She asked, hunching down with her hands on her knees to be at eye level with him.
Baxter clasped his hands behind his back. “I intend to, yes.”
Charlie shot up, hands cupping her cheeks in excitement. “Oh, that’s great.” She gasped and crouched down. “Aw. And look at your little lab coat. It’s very cute.” Another gasp as she leaned back, a hopeful thought coming to her. “Are you an inventor?”
Baxter sneered, clearly offended. “Don’t belittle me, woman. I am not an inventor. I am a scientist. There’s a difference.” He brought his fingers together, taking on a sinister air about him, the area darkening around him, the light of his esca illuminating his features. “Some could classify me as a… mad,” he giggled. “Scientist.”
Ignoring his previous statement, Charlie leaned back and turned away, gasping as she made connections in her head. “Pentious was an inventor.” She swiveled her head around slowly, awe in her tone. “That’s so cool. I bet you’re just like him.”
Baxter’s eyes narrowed in frustration. “If you’re referring to that pompous snake, I’d like it known I am nothing like him.”
Completely disregarding his corrections, Charlie excitedly snagged his arm and dragged Baxter to the front with the reporters.
“Hey, everyone, meet Pentious.”
“Baxter.”
Charlie tried to course correct, her embarrassment making her fluster. “Right, Baxter.” She laughed. “And you’re here to be redeemed, Pen-xter. Baxter. Sorry, sorry. Pentious-bster. Baxter.”
Each time she got his name wrong, the angler fish grew more annoyed. The reporters watched the spectacle in confusion as Vaggie facepalmed in dismay. Spotting Taylor, Charlie pulled them back to stand beside her and Baxter.
She waved her hands. “You heard it first, folks! The first redeemed sinner and the next one in line, Baxter, right here at the Hazbin Hotel!”
Here we go, Taylor thought, swallowing their nerves as the cameras turned to them. With a brilliant show of light, four silvery wings unfurled from their back and what all mistaking assumed was a necklace suddenly rose and settled overhead, the hidden halo shimmering and on full display.
A tense silence fell over the room.
“Yeah, sure buddy.” one reporter scoffed.
“Talk about thirsty for attention…” Another chimed in, unconvinced.
“I’m serious!” Taylor interjected, wings flaring. “Everyone, just listen, redemption is possible!”
“Ain’t you a shapeshifter?” Someone pointed out.
“Well, yeah… but this is how I arrived in Heaven. Halo, wings, and all. There’s nothing I changed to deceive.” Taylor insisted.
“Haven’t you bounced back from a bullet to the head? It took a whole week for my cousin to come back after you wrecked the town!” Another piped up accusingly. “I thought you up and died or some shit.”
“Yes, that happened, but—”
“Show us yer angel powers, then! Go on, shoot a holy light beam like Adam did! Make us a portal to Heaven, poser!”
“I can’t do either of those things—”
Baxter cleared his throat, adjusting his goggles haughtily. “I am here to study this fascinating concept of redemption. My hypothesis is that it’s impossible, but if it isn’t, it must be observed, documented by a qualified professional… Someone like me! Stay tuned for my findings!”
Charlie laughed awkwardly before leaning in to welcome Baxter to the Hotel. After taking his bag and giving him a key, the blonde assured that all guests were considered family. At that exact moment, an ant demon “accidentally” fell onto Angel Dust.
“Hey, perv!” He said, pushing him to the ground and clutching his front in annoyance. “Hands off the chest fluff!” Cherri angrily punted the offensive demon away, sending him flying.
Charlie promised that it was the Hazbin guarantee, mentioning that it was free.
“It’s worth the price.” Alastor commented derisively.
Husk, Cherri, and Niffty all added that the place was full of drunks, cunts, and sticky floors covered in junk. Charlie asked Baxter to not pay them mind — “no one does!” Angel interjected— or the hole in the wall Cherri blew up.
Baxter followed Charlie, the princess commended him on the choice to save his soul.
“You’ll find redemption… I really, really, hope.” She clutched her face in worry. “Cause if I can’t get it right this time, then my life’s a fuckin’ joke.”
Gripping the mantle of the hearth, she slumped down and tearily gazed up at Pentious’ painting, her anxiety reaching its peak. “And my friend died for no reason and I’m never gonna cope from watching him get fucking murdered right in front of me!”
Baxter’s eyebrow quirked. “What?”
Snapping back from her spiraling, she cheerily showed off the bar, Baxter refusing a drink from an intensely smiling Charlie. Vaggie flew down and picked her up, angel and demoness declaring that all could live in harmony — just as Husk shoved a guest off the bar, snarling that no, he couldn’t make a Mai Tai.
Bringing the other guests into the number, Charlie got everyone clapping, having all repeat affirmations of checking in, of seeking guidance for their reckoning, and to never turn to violence!
As Charlie continued her reprise, Taylor noted with dismay that guests began walking out, muttering that the place was lame or sucked ass. By the end of her song, most had left, the reporters and Baxter still around.
The news-hawks were quick to surround the Princess, going back to getting their big scoops.
“Ms. Morningstar, Ms. Morningstar, over here. When will you launch your next attack on the angels?”
“What do dead angels smell like?”
The reptilian reporter chimed in. “Are all the sinners here part of your anti-angel army? I killed my wife!”
Charlie shook her head, taken aback. “What? N-No. No. They’re here to be redeemed. Didn’t you hear the song?”
Vaggie stepped in, looking pointedly at the remaining guests. “Are any of you here for redemption?”
The answers weren’t reassuring.
“I thought this hotel was where we came to kill angels.”
“Yeah, who cares about redemption?” A tree demoness rolled her eyes. “That sounds like work.”
Charlie grew unnerved. “No. I-I know angels aren’t like, the best, but we shouldn’t kill them. We need to be better than them, right?”
She got no answer, the crowd’s attention homing on something else. “Oh, my God!”
Niffty sat on a table, covered in the dead rat blood, the little housekeeper looking up as she continued to stab the thing with her knife.
“Look, it’s Niffty, the Adam slayer!”
“Stab. Stab, stab, stab, stab, stab.” She continued puncturing the rodent, expression unchanged.
“Wait a mo… that’s the ‘I want a word’ Dealbreaker, the Adam destroyer! You’re on the posters!”
“Posters?” Taylor asked as the mob suddenly surrounded those responsible for felling the first man.
“Oh, I get it now! You’re wearing the wings of your enemies!” Someone grabbed one of their wings, shaking it experimentally.
Taylor bristled, snapping their head to the offender. “Hands off or you’ll lose that.”
“Niffty, can I get your autograph?”
“Don’t tell me you dug yourself out of your own grave? That’s so sick!” Another reached for their halo and they recoiled back, jaw clenching tighter.
You can’t hurt them, they’re guests. Think of Charlie, think of Charlie, Taylor thought, becoming hyperaware of the twitch of fingers, the scrape of fabric against their skin, the pricking shock of the hair on the back of their neck standing up.
“Niffty, will you stab me? Someone get a picture of her stabbing me.” The housekeeper complied, much to the fan’s relief.
Charlie moved in, trying to get the rabble to hear her out. “No, no, Niffty and Taylor were acting in self-defense. We shouldn’t celebrate what they had to do.”
Ignoring her, the guests lifted Niffty and Taylor in the air, repeatedly throwing the two up and down and chanting their names enthusiastically.
Niffty laughed at the novelty. “I like being touched.”
“Well, I don’t!” Taylor gritted out, their aversion reaching their limit and they disappeared in a plume of flames, the crowd crying out before a round of awws of disappointment could be heard.
Angel Dust, Cherri, Husk, and Alastor looked to the side as Taylor manifested upon the farthest barstool, leaning against the counter too stiffly to seem truly relaxed. They didn’t even react to Alastor sadistically chuckling at their discomfort.
“Husk,” Their voice was gravely and distorted, one hand rubbing the back of their neck to stop the sensation of their skin crawling. “Peach whiskey… please.”
“I gotcha covered, kid.” Replied the grizzled bartender, pouring shots for everyone after sliding one glass down the counter.
Charlie tried to raise her voice over the clamor. “No, stop touching her! They brought the fight to us. We had to defend ourselves. I never wanted to… I wouldn’t… That’s not what—”
Her words fell on deaf ears as a crowd surfing Niffty laughed while the chanting kept going strong.
“Kill angels! Kill angels! Kill angels! Kill angels!”
Seeing Charlie in a vulnerable state, the reporters went in to wear her down, throwing more questions her way.
“Charlie, is this now officially the Angel Killer Hotel?”
“Charlie, have all your staff killed angels?”
The three-eyed reptile demon from before jumped in. “Charlie, do you have to be a cannibal to sign up for the Angel Kling Army Hotel? And I regret killing my wife…”
Charlie stammered, overwhelmed by the ruckus. “W-we, uh, accept cannibals. I, uhm…”
Vaggie pushed her way to her beleaguered girlfriend. “Charlie, are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m — I’m fine, uh, I-I just…” she uttered nervously, trying to find her bearings in the tumult.
From his spot on the bar countertop, Angel Dust switched his worried gaze between Charlie and Taylor.
“Aw man, Charlie ain’t looking too good under pressure.”
Husk whirled on Alastor in annoyance. “Shouldn’t you help her?”
The Radio Demon tilted his head impishly. “Should I? Perhaps. Will I? No. Do I enjoy being difficult?” He turned his head 180 degrees squarely at Charlie, his eyes turning into radio dials as the area around him darkened. “Most definitely.”
Amidst the insanity going on around her, Lucifer appeared in a puff of red smoke at her side, surprising Charlie.
“Poof! Here I am.” He checked himself. “Did I do that right? There we—” He wrapped an arm around his daughter and pulled her close. “Hey, don’t worry, Charlie, someone,” he shot a triumphant grin at Alastor. “Important is here to help.” He cleared his throat and gasped dramatically. “OH, SHIT!” He pointed to nothing. “What’s that?!”
The two vanished in another cloud of red smoke, leaving behind a small rubber duck with a red bow tie and white top hat in their wake.
The reptilian reporter was bewildered. “Huh? Where’d they go? They were just here.”
“It’s a fucking duck! He tricked us!” Another said, upset at being duped.
Taylor gulped down the drink, the burn helping to center them. Lucifer was right when he called Hell a circus.