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There’s an emotion one gets intimately familiar with after spending a lifetime (or a dozen) addicted to gambling. Husk had never put a name to it. A name would legitimize it; make it real. But it was something akin to complete hopelessness. A heavy, visceral sinking that dragged down your throat and settled deep in your stomach. A void that ate up everything inside you and left you a, well, husk. It made the edges of your vision bubble up in black while the sight in front of you shook in and out of focus.
Watching the hit go over 21. Watching a bad roll of the dice. Landing on black when you had everything on red. When there isn’t a dollar left, no way to claw yourself out of the pit. Nothing to do but bend your ears back, tuck your tail between your legs, and crawl on home, with no idea what you would do to survive tomorrow.
It had been a long time since Husk had felt that feeling. Power helped quash it. Owning the casino kept it at bay. And as much as he hated to admit it, having a place to call home and a family of assholes waiting for him there made him feel immune.
He came close once, to hitting that memorable rock bottom. Watching Angeldust give up on himself and go back to the tower all those months ago. Cherri’s presence next to him was the only thing keeping him standing. He spent a couple weeks trying to convince himself not to concern himself with it. But the more he returned behind the Hazbin bar without Alastor tethering him to it, the more he understood that his home was irrevocably missing its centerpiece.
After Pentious’ grand show the hotel saw a boom, which meant Husk saw a boom too. He wasn’t as devoted without Alastor over his shoulder, but even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, he was thriving with a purpose to his afterlife. It was another late evening after the usual hustle and bustle that he decided he needed to right things.
With the lightest of growls rumbling up his throat, the rag he was using to sop up the bar top slapped against the wood. Cherri started from her seat across from him, her back shooting straight and a dribble of her martini missing her mouth. She’d been off in her own world as per usual, her eye glistening as she tried to hide the fact that she was completely engrossed in the First Redeemed portrait across the hall.
“Alright, bogan,” she scolded, wiping her chin with the back of her wrist. “No need to chuck a wobbly. What’s the problem?”
Husk was already stalking out from behind the bar, shoulders hunched in frustration.
“I’m sick of this shit,” he said. “I’m done letting that asshole wallow in his little self pity party. He’s supposed to be here, with us. I’m going to get him.”
His ears were already back, hearing Cherri’s movement before he felt her hand on his shoulder. He knew what she was going to say. They had had this conversation already. Over. And over. And over.
“Husk, I know you miss him. Fuck, of course I know how bad you miss him! But I know that you know that you can’t drag him out of there. Angie needs to decide for himself. He’s always been that way.”
“And look what being that way got him,” Husk spat, shrugging off Cherri’s touch. “He’s spent every waking moment down here trying to make his life worse, I’m through with it.” He looked over his shoulder, eyes silently pleading as his voice stayed level. “I’m doing this with or without you. But with would be easier.”
Neither of them spoke another word. Cherri averted her gaze in silent rejection, frustration and regret evident on her brow.
So Husk turned back around. With fists clenched he stalked to the door, and as soon as he was through it, took flight to the skies.
Vee tower wasn’t the deathtrap it used to be. With Vox safely contained on his network of wall-mounted-TVs-turned-viewscreens, he only had two Vees to avoid. And Velvette and Valentino both had prolific careers and ambitions (besides world domination) to take up their attention. They weren’t sitting around waiting for opportunities to meddle in things like Vox always had been.
It was late at night. Husk knew Velvette was out of the picture, busy with a runway event on the other side of the ring. God knows he and everyone else had been hearing the commercials for weeks. Valentino though didn’t need to leave for his work, so he would be around somewhere.
Avoiding Vox’s viewscreens meant travelling by vent. Luckily Vox’s hubris of being able to be in any room at any time (and having nothing better to be doing) meant the tower had been saving some money on other security to redirect to the brands. Husk was small enough that finding an entrance and traversing the cramped space was feasible. It was slow, and the tuft of his tail was completely webbed down which caused a lot more disorientation than he would have liked, but he managed to stumble along and get a view of the main studio from the ceiling. It was dark and empty, devoid of even a cleaning crew. That meant private quarters, which hopefully meant Val’s signature drunken haze that would keep him from drawing attention.
Husk waited until he’d reached Val’s door before leaving the safety of the vents. He managed to land quietly and nimbly to the floor below, on all fours. Guess he really had been drinking less without Angel around. He gave himself a shake to knock off some of the cobwebs before he stepped forward to open the door.
Three familiar scents wafted from the crack he peered through. The most potent being Val’s usual pheromones, muggy and sickeningly sweet, almost as if it wanted you to know you were in trouble before the effects really started to settle in.
Mixed in with the sweet was the sharp bite of gunpowder. Normally Husk wouldn’t worry himself over that- he knew Val’s weapons of choice after the last time they met. What really caused the concern was the third smell. The unmistakable metallic burn of blood.
A lot of blood.
Panic setting in, he gave up on the sneaking and tossed the door open. To the left Val was sitting up on the chez, blood splattered across his chest. As he cradled his head with one set of arms, the other propped himself up and held his pipe to his lips. He hardly even startled at the sound of Husk entering, his eyes barely twitching as he struggled to figure out who he was looking at.
To the right, the remaining haze was dissipating. He saw Angel’s legs first, and his eyes followed them up to his body, six arms sprawled to his side, tommy guns discarded. He was completely still, and the lack of agitation made it take an extra moment for Husk to realize that it was Angel’s blood he was smelling. Pooling under him like a gleaming silhouette.
The edges of his vision went black, threatening to erase the image in front of him. He stumbled as the hopelessness he knew all too well clawed his throat and laid to rest deep in the pit of his stomach, dragging his heart down with it.
Angel sat alone in the studio, fixing his stockings, righting his gloves, patting down flyaways in his hair. He was supposed to be shooting tonight, but there was nary a costar or a camera operator to be seen. That small part of him that he could never bother to be ashamed of was disappointed. With Vox out of the picture he was beginning to feel more straight in his head–HA!– and was getting back into the groove of work. And who was he kidding, it was difficult to act hard done by that he got professional dickings three times a week.
But the rest of him just longed to go home. It might even be safe now, with Alastor out of the picture and his spying days done. But would they even want him back? Would his friends forgive him for letting all of that happen? Would he ever forgive himself for not figuring it out sooner, for not fighting back harder? He wanted so badly to be wasting his days scrolling the socials cuddled up with Cherri and getting annoyed at Fat Nuggets for hogging his blankets and…
He sighed, catching his own reflection not in the giant, lit up mirror staring him in the face, but the bottle of vodka that sat dusty in the corner of the vanity. Before he had a moment to think on it longer, he heard the studio door bang open. Up went the facade, a bright, sultry smile pulling up his face as if lifted by marionette strings. He made a show of crossing his legs, spinning on his stool.
“About time! Lube doesn’t last forever, ya know.”
But it wasn’t a crew coming towards him. It was just Val. He looked high strung, irritable. Angel’s stomach sank and his smile faltered. Val looking tense never meant anything good. Angel’s eyes shot to the TV on the wall behind Val, which flickered the telltale blue of Vox sneaking around on his viewscreen network. Only a split second- He wasn’t eavesdropping, just keeping tabs. But he was going to be angry that whatever spat they had led Val directly into Angel’s care.
He found it a threat.
“Shoot’s cancelled,” Val spat, eyes squinting in Angel’s direction. He smiled, that wide, dangerous smile that sent ice running through Angel’s veins. “Let’s go to bed.”
Angel imagined himself– No, a better version of himself, tearing this room apart. Even if that contract meant he had to go, he would make the biggest mess in the world and go down kicking and screaming. It was a therapeutic thought as he stood up, head down, shuffling toward the door that Val was directing him out of.
The bedroom door had hardly finished sighing closed when Val barked, “Take your clothes off. I want you tonight.”
Angel was skulking backward, hands up defensively. “Look, Val. I can tell you’re upset. Did something happen with Vox? Why don’t we just sit and talk about it? You know I went to therapy a lot when I was at the hotel and-”
The sting was immediate, sharp on his face, making his vision go white. His body went limp as he felt Val pull him over and up by the fronts of his shirt.
“Don’t you ever bring up that hotel in front of me!”
Angel cried out as he was tossed unceremoniously on the floor, into the makeshift futon of pillows and blankets. Val’s wings spread threateningly, the precursor to the mind numbing pheromones he used to get his way. Angel reached in every direction for something to grab, to pull himself away and back to his feet, but it was nothing but slippery silk- his favourite.
He wasn’t sure what part of all of this caused the crack in his mind. But he felt it, thunderous like an earthquake, making his vision go red, turning his pupils to pinpricks. The plan came to him in an instant, faster than he knew any person could even think.
The cloud of red was shot his way at the speed of sound with one flap of Val’s wings. Angel sat forward, steeled himself, flinging an arm over his face.
Val was on him in an instant, almost entirely shrouded by the fog. Angel knew well that Val couldn’t see a thing like this. His arms were groping for Angel’s neck, and he only stilled when felt two, cold barrels pressed firmly against his stomach. He tried to look down, but his vision was nothing but red.
“Back the fuck up off me, Val,” Angel spat. He didn’t take a breath to replace the oxygen he just wasted showboating, and his lungs were beginning to tense. His fifth and sixth arms weren’t nearly as strong as the ones he used on the daily, but he put every ounce of strength into his grip on his tommy guns, giving Val a shove with them for good measure.
Val’s grin only firmed up Angel’s resolve as he said, “You can’t kill me. I own you.”
“In the studio,” Angel reminded him. His eyes twitched, vision beginning to blacken at the very edges. The haze was starting to fall to the floor. He just needed to hold his breath a little longer. He could just pull the triggers. But his fingers refused to move. He thought about Charlie, all his hard work, the dream he had of proving he could make it to Heaven. He wondered if it was still possible. He wondered if getting out of this was worth giving all of that up.
“I own your soul,” Val said, though Angel could start to make out an insecurity in his voice. “If you kill me, you take yourself down too.”
“Good thing you’ve taken away everything I was living for.”
Angel’s finger twitched right when a blinding blue light lit up the entire room. He gasped in surprise, certain that was game over, but he tasted only oxygen. The haze was settled around his waist. He’d made it.
“Alright Val, that’s enough sulking,” the viewscreen said, its speakers cracking to life. Vox’s face was spread across it, eyes up to the corner as he invented an apology he didn’t mean. Angel’s brow furrowed. As if he needed a bigger head.
“I’m sorry we fought, but,” Vox finally looked directly at them, his thoughts completely cut off by the sight in front of him. Val, frozen on his knees, looming over Angel, two silver barrels pointed directly up into his gut with Angel’s fingers hovering over the triggers.
Then, Vox laughed. It was a sputtering, disbelieving laugh. Angel felt an offense he was certain wasn’t for himself. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Are you seriously about to get shot by your whore?” More laughter. Booming, sharp laughter ringing off the bedroom walls. “Jesus Christ Val, I knew you’d fallen off, but this is a new low. You call yourself an overlord?” The humour was gone in an instant. Vox’s eyes narrowed and his voice lowered. “You’re such a fucking disappointment. You’re an embarrassment to this company, and you’re an embarrassment to Hell.
“Angel, thanks for taking the trash on your way out.”
The TV flicked off. The room was back to the low glow of lamps. Angel didn’t move. Val didn’t speak. His face was twitching. His resolve was crumbling before Angel’s very eyes. This was it. He could pull these triggers. Blow Val to pieces. Maybe walk out of here, maybe die, who knows what would happen?
But some words he heard once conveniently came to mind.
Cause if anyone around here’s gonna make it, he will.
“You know Val,” Angel said, not daring to move his weapons. “Last time a man laid his hands on me, on my family, I killed him. I took the heaviest object I could lift and I beat him with it until I saw brains. I chose to kill him so he could never hurt me again.”
“Yes, yes, we all know about your daddy issues!” Val yelled, though his voice faltered. He was upset and hurt over what Vox said, Angel could tell.
“After seeing what the fuck you’re already dealing with with Vox, this whole company,” he said, letting out a sigh that felt ancient, unfurling a tenseness in his body that had lingered so long, he stopped noticing it. “You’ve got it bad enough. You’re in your own personal ring of Hell, burning for the kind of person you are. So you don’t need me punishing you too.
“This place,” Angel continued, gesturing with the two arms he could move, “Will be frozen over in an ice age before you would ever deserve my forgiveness for all the shit you’ve put me through.”
Angel took a deep breath, and finally pulled his guns back, while another arm pointed toward the viewscreen.
“I’m not gonna kill you. And I forgive you for doing all this crap to me because that guy hurt you first. But don’t get it twisted. I don’t forgive you for you. I forgive you for me. I’m not killing anyone to get out of my problems ever again. I’m going home, and you can figure out your own shit.”
That felt amazing. Angel practically felt like he was floating. He waited for Val to get up, to let him by, so he could race right back to the hotel with his head held high in triumph. He was going to hug his friends. He was going to attend every single one of Charlie’s classes and sessions and weird games. He was going to have a drink with Cherri and tell Husk about all of this. Husk…
Val’s gaze faltered, glancing down to where the guns were no longer an immediate threat. “Oh, Angel,” he whispered, hurt still gleaming in his eyes. “I’m going to miss you.”
Angel almost smiled, starting to sit up, ever so slightly.
Then his eardrums shattered as a single bullet fired. His ears were ringing, deafeningly loud, the room shaking.Val finally sat up, but Angel found all of his strength was gone. He slumped backward into the pillows. The room lit up in blue again and Angel just managed to turn his head, seeing Vox’s outraged, disbelieving face move from one of shock to one of joy, laughing without sound.
He looked to Val, but when they made eye contact, Val grabbed his wrist, using it to unceremoniously toss him off the bedding onto the cool tile. His stomach was warming under his body, his eyes were beginning to droop, and only then did the pain start, sharp and stinging deep in his gut. He was about to die.
Despite it all, Angel smiled to himself, wincing as a laugh left him. He was about to die, but he didn’t kill Val. He wasn’t the same person he was on Earth, he was better, and no one was ever going to be able to take that from him. Satisfied, he let his eyes close on Val and Vox arguing, and drifted off to sleep.
“ANGEL!” Was that his voice? He couldn’t tell. It was as if he was outside of himself, watching his own body run to Angel’s side. He put his hands firmly on Angel’s shoulders, shaking him vigorously. The movement agitated the blood, stirring the smell up fresh. “Angel! ANGEL DUST!”
“Oh, stop screaming,” Valentino whined, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this were all such an inconvenience. “He’s obviously fucking dead.”
There was a rage burning inside Husk’s chest that he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. He imagined himself as one of the Morningstars, breathing fire, growing horns, his fur floating up in the heat.
“What the fuck have you done!”
A rhetorical question, as Husk was already on the attack. Rings shot out of his fist, encircling Val’s body, moving to trap him. But overlord power versus overlord, Valentino wasn’t that easy to capture, jumping free of the weapons tossed at him, readying his wings.
“Oh grow up, this is Hell. People die. And if you’ve forgotten, you’re just the help, pendejo.”
Dice flew from Husk’s hands, exploding on impact and burning holes through Val’s wings. He shouted out from the pain of it, both hands digging back for his guns. But Husk didn’t let up his onslaught. Before he knew it, Valentino was riddled with 52 cards, delicately sliced with the ones that grazed him and knocked back by the ones that hit him headon. He stumbled backward until he landed directly against the viewscreen, shattering the glass.
Husk couldn’t stop the grin on his face, his eyes wide, giving into the mania.
“Did I hit you that hard? Or is that just another quality Voxtech product?”
Val attempted to right himself, but with a wave of his paw, Husk had conjured his favourite trick. Val was trapped in a casket with a guiding cut down the middle. His head popped out one end, his feet another. The casket rotated to lay horizontal as Husk approached, and a saw materialized in his fingers.
“Talk.”
Valentino struggled a while longer. Husk hesitated slightly when bullets started flying out of the wood, splintering it here and there. He winced at the sound, faltering just enough to cover his ears. But there wasn’t enough ammo in the world to shred this trap. Eventually, the guns were reduced to a clicking noise. Valentino turned to the viewscreen desperately, but it was cold and black.
“I said TALK.”
“He was going to kill me!” Valentino yelled, voice shaking. He squinted his eyes shut, desperate to stop looking at Husk’s glistening saw. “It was self defense!”
“You expect me to believe that shit?” Husk barked out a laugh. “If Angel was going to kill you, he would have done it a long time ago.”
A grin spread across Val’s face, though he still kept his eyes shut. “He said he could do it now because he had nothing left to live for. After all, none of your little friends came to bring him home. You abandoned him, and he knew it. It’s too bad you got caught up in rush hour, he probably wasn’t even cold yet by the time you got here. Maybe if he knew you were coming, you could have saved him from himself.”
Husk just yelled in response, diving forward. He felt something feral unleash inside of him. His fists were slamming into Val’s face, over and over and over. His knuckles were bloodied. He wasn’t even sure Valentino was conscious anymore. He let the rage carry him to the center of the casket and he sawed through with fervour. Blood was oozing out of the guide hole he was using. The scent was burning the hair inside his nostrils. Eventually he sawed all the way through, putting a hand on both halves of Valentino’s coffin, and tossing them to opposite sides of the room with an anguished yell.
The room was silent. Val’s head slumped backward toward the floor, the gaping holes of his torso oozing blood and gore. Husk dared a look over his shoulder, hoping maybe, just maybe, Angel was okay afterall. But he was exactly where they left him. Completely still.
Husk’s tail slumped to the floor, and his ears folded back. He stumbled toward where Angel was left, falling to his knees, soaking himself in the blood. His throat was aching from the yelling, and his eyes were beginning to burn. He snuffled as he lifted an arm to wipe the sweat from his brow, then reached to take two of Angel’s hands.
“You did it, Kid,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “No one’s ever gonna hurt you, ever again. You’re free.”
“Husk. C’mon Kitty, let me take you to bed. You’re full as a goog.”
Husk’s head shot up, drool keeping him attached to the bar top. He was surrounded by empty glasses, his rocks long since melted, clattering together as he shifted. Gentle piano music played behind him. As he opened his eyes he was blinded, the bright overhead lights of the casino making everyone inside think it was still daylight.
He turned around to see who was disturbing him, and it was Cherri. But this wasn’t Hazbin…
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He slurred, ignoring her in favour of gesturing to the barkeep. Anywhere else he would have been thrown out a long time ago. But this bar belonged to him. None of the money he gambled with here was his. He got the thrill without the consequences. He got to win and win and win and never really lose.
“It’s five in the fucking morning, you cunt,” Cherri snipped, giving him a firm smack upside the head.
“What the fuck, bitch!” He grumbled, rubbing the spot she had offended. “I don’t have to go no where with you.” He grinned mockingly. “I only have to listen to Alastor.”
“Don’t be such a fucking drongo,” she said, finally sitting up on the stool next to him. “You’ve seen what Alastor is up to. You ain’t even a pawn on his board anymore, Kitty.” She said it almost apologetically, and it made Husk’s throat run dry.
The silence was thick and heavy between them. It was the absence of Angeldust, tangible in the air.
“Then it sounds like there’s no reason for you to be here trying to save me.”
Cherri smirked, bumping his shoulder with her own. “I’m a Hazbin Hotel ambassador now,” she said. “It’s my whole life’s purpose to try and save you. And hopefully save myself in the process.”
Her smile faded. She didn’t really believe she could be redeemed, Husk knew that by now. But he believed in her. He was the only lost cause around here. He sipped at his newly delivered drink, the sting of it going down his throat making his whole body feel venomous.
“This isn’t what he would have wanted for you, you know.”
Husk’s ears folded back, her words hitting him like a bucket of cold water. He was overcome with shame. All Angel did was try and try and try to be better, to be redeemed. And Husk responded by drowning in his vices. Sinning with reckless abandon. Living up to the Pride Ring’s namesake. Killing a man in Angel’s name, which he never would have wanted.
“Doesn’t matter much now, does it,” he replied. Though he didn’t really believe it.
Cherri stood again, taking Husk’s hand. “Nothing worth having comes easy. We got a hard road ahead of us, but we can do it for him, yeah?”
And for the first time in decades, the former overlord of Hell Husk let himself be led, like a child, while he wept, back to his home.
“MAIL’S HERE!”
There was more than one scream echoing through the lobby as Emily made her usual surprise entrance, scaring the shit out of the entire hotel populace. Cherri shot to the second floor railing like a bullet, her cheeks flushing as she grinned ear to ear.
“Up here!” She called, and Emily flew up to meet her, handing her an envelope, the usual (almost daily) correspondence from Sir Pentious. She immediately rushed back into her room with it. Gross. At least she was finally admitting to herself that she had feelings for him. She’d eventually admitted in group therapy that lying to yourself was still lying and “Heaven hates that shit, yeah?”
Husk continued his work, shaking a martini over his shoulder for his patron, devoid in interest in anything Heaven related. He sure as shit was never getting up there. Cherri may have pulled him out of one bad night, but he was still spending a lot more time at the casino. She was right, Alastor hadn’t called on him at all. He had no other purpose and no other calling.
Emily was chatting with Charlie; they usually caught up on things for awhile when she visited. Lots of logistics in redemptions, especially as Heaven was preparing itself for a potential population boom. The thought made Husk laugh. As if thousands of these suckers wanted to be redeemed, let alone was willing and capable of putting in the work.
Husk poured the martini and handed it over to the woman in front of him, glancing Emily’s way again. To his surprise, she was staring right at him, Charlie pointing him out to her. He stiffened, even glancing around and behind him to see who they must have actually been discussing.
But Emily zipped right over, a too-bright smile on her face.
“Hi there, Mr. Husk!” She beamed.
“Uh,” he stammered. She didn’t wait, thrusting an envelope toward him.
“I was asked to deliver this to you discreetly,” she whispered, with an exaggerated wink. Some discretion, the bar had about five people sitting at it and Charlie had seen her come toward him.
“You’re mistaken,” he said simply, turning around to grab a liquor bottle off the shelf for his next order. “That snake and I barely spoke, he’s got no reason to be writing me. You sure that ain’t for Baxter?”
Emily emphatically shook her head. “No Sir, this was for you, Husk! The kitty cat!”
Husk grumbled, rolling his eyes and finally snatching the envelope from her. He unceremoniously stuffed it in his back pocket, getting back to work.
“Whatever,” he said in thanks, and Emily smiled and took off again, zipping in her little showboating circles before disappearing back into her portal.
Hours passed before he thought about the letter again. He was shutting down the bar, replacing clean glasses, dusting bottles, and he remembered it suddenly, as if someone had whispered it in his ear.
Glancing around the room to make sure he was alone he sat down, flipping the envelope open and pulling out the letter that was folded inside. From the first word he felt his heart seize, leaping in place as if it would burst out of his chest and make a run for it.
Whiskers,
Sorry it took me so long to send this. As soon as I landed up here Emily took me straight to my sister. I don’t think I ever told you about her but she’s been my whole world since the day she was born, so I got a little caught up in being with her again. My bad.
If Cherri ain’t already next to you reading this, do me a favour and keep it between us for now? I want her to hear it from me, I’m gonna write her right after this, promise.
I’m sorry for everything that went down. I know now it was stupid of me to think none of you would forgive me for what happened with Vox, and I regret wasting all that time I could have been spending with you wasting away in the tower. I felt so terrible and I punished myself instead of trusting you, and now I might never be able to take that back.
I want you to know that I’m up here because of you, Husk. You never fell for my shit, you gave me the tough love when I needed it, and every step of the journey you believed I could do it, long before I believed I could. You got me my life back, my soul back, and now my family back. I’ll never be able to repay that, so I’m just gonna appreciate it SO FUCKING HARDER DADDY. ;)
As for the how (Since I’m sure Charlie’s gonna wanna start a case study on me)... You guys already found out my sin was killing my dad. I’m not excusing what I did, but he was a monster. The things he did to me, the things he did to my sister. I would have been fine being a fucked up mess, but I needed to protect her. I told myself I killed him to keep her safe, but that doesn’t forgive the part of me that did it for revenge.
So, when I had the opportunity to kill Val, I chose to forgive him instead. I told him he had it bad enough with Vox and he was punished enough already. Then he killed me. I am kinda worried now that dying is part of being redeemed which is really gonna suck for all the sinners who aren’t sure if they’ve done enough yet but hey, not my problem, I already made it, bitch! Hopefully Val just crashes and burns of his own accord someday. Write me if it happens yeah?
Running out of paper here, so I’ll write to you again another time. Don’t be too shy to write me back neither, I love dirty words. Thanks again for everything, Husk. This is all thanks to you, so I’m sure I’ll see you up here someday.
With love always, Anthony
P.S. - EVERYONE UP HERE IS HOT!!!!!!!