A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

by Crimson_Soldat

Summary:

The Hunt and Nightmares are over. Leaving Yharnam as it is, the Hunter pulls the Workshop to a new realm. One filled with Demons and Sinners that are at odds with Heaven. Will he be able to keep Yharnam's secrets to himself as well as being an Eldritch being? And more importantly, will he be able to help Charlie Morningstar run her hotel?

Chapter 1: Painfully Familiar

HH: Redoing the first 8 or so chapters to fit the rest of the story. Also, word of note, the story takes place in a combined setting, not a separate one. Things from one are things in the other. It'll make less sense soon I promise. :)

This fanfic was inspired by 'A Hunter's New Home' by AgeOfAngels and 'The Night Unfurls' by StaffSergeant. It took me two days to write and edit. Please don't mind the title, I know it sounds so isekai-like. Wanted it to sound like this famous book 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy'. There are going to be a lot of pop culture references in this story.

If you have problems, then deal with it. I ain't exactly good in Hazbin Hotel lore. (HH: Same story, but I'm really good at pulling shit from my ass and calling it gold.)

Word of warning: This fanfic will contain graphic violence, strong languages, sexual themes, travesties against nature, the GAY, and many things the Christian Religion would spew blood at. Viewer discretion is advised because it's FUCKING Hazbin Hotel and FUCKING Bloodborne. Also, I can say whatever I want whenever my editor's possessing me like a meat-puppet. (HH: Ignore that last part. Enjoy the re-written first chapter of…)

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

I

Painfully Familiar

'We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood…'

Those words defined the lives of the many Hunters of the cold, lifeless, bloody city of Yharnam. To be born of blood, was to become something other than yourself, in exchange for the potential of great power. To be made by the blood, was to cut your teeth on the Beasts that stalked its streets, learning the tools, tricks, and varied weaponry that the Hunters had made and mastered during the confusingly long nights that plagued the old city.

And to be undone… was to become one of the very Beasts they slew in droves. Nameless, nonhuman, forgotten. This was the fate of all Hunters. Save one.

He had faced uncountable foes, reigned triumphant over improbable challenges, yet he had prevailed, and more importantly, survived. He had become so much more than a mere human, but it had cost him everything. To say his time in service as a Hunter had touched him was barely scratching the surface of his many newfound problems. He had spent over two centuries gestating as one of the things that had caused the downfall of Yharnam, and it had disgusted him. But that was the past. The present held a different, yet no less strange and grim story.

He stealthily peeked around the brick wall, stalking three Angels. Exorcists, to be precise. Uncoordinated, sloppy, but deadly and numerous. Akin to the addled people of Yharnam, who had taken it upon themselves to pick up the Hunter's slack when their bodies had begun to pile higher than they could be disposed of. These ones were fresh, lacking the decorations of the slightly skilled veterans whose numbers had begun to thin over the years. All were armed with Angelic Weapons, so the Hunter had to be cautious, as a single touch would burn his very existence. He'd already slaughtered a few dozen squads, and had collected whatever he could salvage to repurpose. He had to hurry if he wanted to get more of the rare, sacred metal.

It was nearly the end of Extermination Day, after all. He had to make this quick, lest he lose his bounty.

He was in luck. The Hunter's attire he had donned oh so long ago proved to be effective in hiding in dark and shadowed locations. His dark trench coat with the standard leather cowl provided a miniscule amount of armor, alongside the thick vest, gloves with armored bracers, and tough heeled boots. His entire head was covered, his face hidden behind a cloth mask, and his hair was underneath a tattered tricorn.

He held his breath as they passed, a serrated throwing dagger in his off hand. Once they did, he carefully stepped from the shadows, and followed them unnoticed, his bulky Saw Cleaver in its shorter configuration strapped to his thigh. As the three doomed souls scanned the branching alleyways, he used this opportunity to fling his first knife to the one on the left, then lunged for the rightmost one. The knife sunk into the back of the Exorcist's head, dropping them and causing the Angelic Spear to loudly clatter onto the ground, grabbing the attention of the yet-to-be targeted angel. The Hunter grabbed his prey by the base of the neck and the mouth, which yelled a muffled scream, before a near-silent *crack* made them limp, their neck cleanly snapped.

The remaining Exorcist turned to see their brethren die in an instant, and saw their killer holding the body of their most recent victim. Enraged, they readied their weapons and immediately rushed at the Hunter, who had dropped the corpse, and was waiting for the perfect moment.

It stabbed at him, a wordless scream of rage bubbling from its lips, cut short by the Hunter's well-practiced sidestep, followed by a wickedly sharp saw gutting them vertically. The Hunter wasn't finished, and had quickly turned, swinging the blade into the exposed neck of the angel.

*CRUNCH*

There was no grace to be found in the blade. No quick and clean decapitation. Instead, the neck was only partially cut, and instead had been crushed by the weight of the blade, before the Hunter ripped the weapon back, messily tearing the head from the body as he glanced around for incoming combatants.

None came. The hunt was over. The Hunter collected his knife, took his prizes, and cleaned the blood from his weapon.

When that was over, he looked over the three bodies with a critical eye. He dragged the two intact Exorcists by the feet, and carried the mutilated one on his shoulders, kicking the head along as he went. He took them into an area where the bodies of over a dozen dead Exorcists were piled onto a large tarp in a butcher's alley, all from this Hunt alone. Not just this one, but many, since he had a trade agreement with a number of meat shops that didn't question him where all the meat came from, but were willing to meet his simple demand for silence regarding him. About two hundred, no less. Not that any were of particular notice, they were no different than the blood-crazed Beasts back in Yharnam, their over aggression so easy to exploit. Over his years in Hell, he had hunted what would have been an uncountable number for some, but he knew was, including these last three, one thousand exactly.

This was the third time he survived this annual day of slaughter, fear, and blood. Sometimes, it reminded him of his Night of the Hunt, though where there had been Beasts borne from Hell taking to the street to be slaughtered by the people, here the Heavens themselves sent their hatred down to slaughter the Sinners. In the same vein, he often wondered why he had picked this in the first place. After what he's been through in Yharnam, was this any better? He had already survived Hell on Earth, why would he choose Hell itself to venture to next? Well, he had chosen randomly, in his addled state. The surface world had been far too advanced for his liking. And recently, he had heard a tiny, tiny voice telling him he didn't deserve to be with other humans, after what he had done to the ones he had known. He had listened to the voice, and found himself here.

He moved to another part of the area, where his eyes landed on the crate of Angelic weapons that he had piled up, and were ready to be sold. He had collected an obscene amount of what used to be rare (rare to him in any regard) metal, and now he had some business to attend to in regards to the overflow of material.

Before he could do anything else, his ears picked up rang the tolling of the gargantuan bell. Extermination Day was over.

Now, he has to wait another year to collect more.

That is if the Princess of Hell, Charlie Morningstar, didn't mess things up with the diplomatic meeting that he had seen on the news.

-Scene Change-

The Hunter, after cleaning his equipment and moving to his contact's predetermined location, carefully sharpened his Saw Cleaver, watching the two women inspecting the neatly piled and sorted weapons he had purloined. One of them, Odette, was writing on her clipboard as she inspected the weapon's condition, markings and general material worth. A sharp, clean and practically unused weapon would be sold as-is to various black market vendors, while a worn, dull and tarnished weapon would be smelted down and repurposed. The other, Clara, watched him maintaining his blade with interest. "Fine-looking weapons you got there. Are these the secrets to your quadruple-digit killstreak?" Her mom had asked her to try and get something out of him that could help them up the ante when it came to their production. While this guy might have been one of their best sources, at the same time her mom was worried that he could become competition if he so chooses. The weapons he used spoke to that, the abomination of a saw having torn through the ranks of Hell's fodder, like school kids in front of a particularly drunk driver.

The Hunter hummed at her words, continuing to sharpen his tool as he faced her.

"You aren't really the talkative one, mister?" Clara commented on his lack of verbal communication, hoping to break the glacial wall and get him to talk.

"Correct." He uttered emotionlessly, before focusing his attention back to his weapon.

Getting nothing from her unsubtle attempts to question him, Clara looked around, and saw five angelic weapons leaning on the wall. These ones were the dullest, most worn down spears she had seen in a while. Who knows how long they'd been in service, but they had no value aside from scrap. But why would he want these? She looked at him, intrigued. "So, what are you going to use them for?"

"Trophies," He responded back, voice perfectly monotonous.

The Demonic Arms Dealer raised an eyebrow at that. In all her encounters with this guy, he had never been the type to collect weapons for display. He had the sort of "Use every tool at your disposal" mindset that her mom appreciated, having told them all about how little he wasted in terms of equipment and energy. "Clara." She turned to look at her sister, who walked to her side. "108 of the weapons are in perfect condition. I found 38 with minor scratches, 27 with noticeable wear and tear, 19 with damage resembling veteran weaponry, and 8 that are only fit for smelting" She focuses her attention on the Hunter. "Mother will be pleased with the amount you present.."

"I am fulfilling my part of the deal," He stoically responded, voice not belying any emotion.

Odette nodded in acknowledgement, before handing a small briefcase to him. Her sister did the talking for her. "We appreciate you've stayed true to what we agreed on. As for your hard work, mom wanted us to give you this."

"Understood," He responded before gently taking the small briefcase from Odette. He gave a silent nod to the two sisters, who waved back at him, before turning away, and traveling to his 'safe haven', which was hidden within the outskirts of the city of the Pride Ring.

He took many confusing and misleading paths down dark alleys and rundown buildings to lose any potential stalkers, and eventually the Hunter arrived at his destination. A small, rundown shack that had absolutely nothing inside but a bed and basic accommodations. It wasn't good-looking, hiding anything, or even big enough to be a hideout, and that was the point. Who would expect this to be his abode? If any had managed to follow him here, and saw the inside, they'd assume this was a fake, and look for him elsewhere. As he sorted his scant belongings that weren't tucked away in some unknown space, he heard ghastly groans behind him, and turned to see those tiny, deformed, creepy Messengers reaching to him while babbling. He smiled behind his mouth cloth at them as he put one knee on the ground.

"Did you miss me?" He asked while stroking one of the Messengers' chins, a few nuzzling against his hand. He'd remembered how distrustful and disgusted he was towards them at the start of his time in Yharnam, but he grew fond of them as time went by, finding their company, however scant, better than the alternative. They had aided him in Hell for the past three years by providing ammunition, repair tools for his weapons, and giving him blood vials while collecting the empty ones when they had been discarded. How they acquired any of these, he thought better than to ask.

"I brought you something," He presented the Angelic Weapons he had collected, as well as the briefcase he was given. The weapons were the most storied ones he could find, with countless Sinners having bled on them. The conflicting elements of Holy steel and demonic blood were apparently delicious to the Messengers, who had no problem eating the decades old weapons like particularly large pretzel sticks. The briefcase contained a custom order of Angelic Steel coins soaked in blood, which the Messengers were quite fond of. Perhaps he was spoiling them, but alas, his hands were tied.

They let out a happy groan as they took it from him. All looked at him, and he knew they wanted his Saw Cleaver as well, to transport for him so he would not be burdened with it at all times. So, he handed it over, at which point they disappeared into blue mist.

Now that he was alone, the Hunter wanted to rest. Walking to the crude chair and table, he sat down, carefully balancing on the three wobbly legs, before placing his worn notebook onto the table covered in various stains. It had been by his side for a long while, and had been his only company during his darkest times. He didn't care that it never ran out of pages.

That was good for him.

He had a lot of things to write about from this day.

-Scene Change-

Charlie felt pained, as she looked from the viewpoint of her room with a frown. She overlooked the city's ruins due to the recent Extermination. This has become a yearly occurrence to combat the overpopulation of Hell, or so Heaven had claimed. Really, she only saw misguided people hurting other, differently misguided people. This is why she started her passion project of opening a place where people can be redeemed and go to Heaven, so that no one would feel hated again. Ambitious? Absolutely. Possible? Of course! She just… needed some time. And help. And…patience.

She wasn't alone, though. She had help from her girlfriend, Vaggie, the cynical Bartender Husk, the Housekeeper Nifty, and the Facility Manager Alastor, also known as the Radio Demon. She even had her first resident recently, in the form of the infamous Pornstar Angel Dust. Together, they ran the hotel in hopes of attracting demons and sinners all over Hell.

Lately, it hasn't gone well, and she has become a laughingstock for both Demons and Sinners. This didn't deter the Princess of Hell, as she was determined to prove that Redemption was possible. But, sometimes, it felt like she had to move a mountain with her bare hands.

That was until recently. She had heard rumors a while back, of a particularly…hurtful…Sinner, that had a…rather impolite reputation. She knew a bitmore after hearing Angel's recount of how he and his friend witnessed him 'beating the dicks off' of twenty-eight sinners at a bar, before disappearing. Apparently, Angel had thought it was 'really fucking hot', and had talked to (pestered for a full day) the mysterious figure, which had given her a name. The Hunter. Specifically not 'Hunter', THE Hunter. Charlie was raised to be polite, and not disrespect anyone just from their name, but c'mon, 'The Hunter' was the type of name a Sinner gave themself before they ended up dying a stupid, more permanent second death. There was one a long while back, some toad sinner had named himself 'The Master', and had tried to make a 'League' of Sinners to 'cleanse the filth' of Pride. He had died horrifically on Extermination Day, alone and outnumbered.

Yet, she had also heard from Angel how he had saved many from the Exorcists during the annual Extermination Day, and that he definitely had the skills to back up his claims. He might have had some knowledge of the arcane arts, because if Angel was telling the truth, there were chunks of the city where crime just didn't happen, not because of intimidation, but because he had said so. It was now physically impossible to commit a crime in those areas, your body just wouldn't let you. Angel said he tried to litter, and instead he had walked half a block to find a trashcan to toss his cigarette butt in. The kind of power to just curse ground like that would put him squarely with Overlords, and he might even rub shoulders with a few noble families.

Other sinners were jealous of it, but there weren't many that could do anything about it that wanted to. Though, to her, there was something about him that gave her thoughts. From what she gathered from Angel, he seemed…sad. He didn't partake in the fruits of sin that were everywhere, instead just disappearing whenever he wasn't needed. Maybe he wanted to be useful?.He may be beneficial to help with her business. Not helping with the customers, of course, but rather as a resident. To turn such a soul as troubled as his would prove redemption was possible. But as much as she wanted to speak to this Hunter, he was very hard to find.

"Charlie?"

Hearing her name caused the Princess of Hell to spin around, seeing who had shown up when she was lost in thought. "Oh!" She turned to see a familiar figure entering her room. "Hey, Vaggie…"

Her girlfriend chuckled at her, always thinking too hard for her own good and nearly walking into things for it. She shook her head while chuckling, and walked over to her. "I know that look, got something on your mind, babe?"

Charlie turned back to the window to see the ruined city. "Yeah. Been thinking about that rumor recently."

The one-eyed woman sighed, as she turned towards her girlfriend. "You mean the guy that Angel knew for only three years, and decided that he was his 'best bud'?"

The Princess of Hell nodded in response. "Yes. I'm thinking about who he is rather than what he is called. I want to help."

Veggie thought about it, but she had a bad feeling about where this was going. "And what do you mean by that?"

Charlie looked her directly in the eye. "I'm saying that, despite his name and whatever he's done in life, I feel he's lost. Lost and alone, with no one there to save him." She explained. "Do you know what I am thinking of?"

It only took Vaggie a second to realize what she was suggesting, and another to fully comprehend what she said. "What!?" She stood up with a mortified look on her face. "No, no, NO! Don't even think about it, Charlie! I let Alastor in because he's semi negotiable, but this puta is a fucking maniac! Do you know what could happen to this hotel's reputation if you brought him here?!" Vaggie, master of the "worst possible outcome" mindset, had taken it upon herself to do a bit of digging (light bludgeoning and threats towards innocent info brokers) into her girlfriend's fascination, thinking she'd find a past murderer or a genuine wacko.

She found a monster.

Every source (brokers being beaten within an inch of their lives) confirmed the same thing: the Hunter, whoever he was, was a threat to almost every Overlord that operated near him. He had wiped several from the board when they had displeased him by being rude. Specifically displeased! Those were the exact words he had told her most useful contact (She had asked Angel if he knew anything, and had gotten more useful info than every other source combined), that the Overlords had 'left him displeased with their rudeness', and then erased several gangs in a single night! The power vacuum was still empty, due to all the stupid ones dying the same night, and no one smart wanted to fill the gap.

If that level of violence was for a fucking inconvenience, she didn't want him anywhere near her girlfriend, and there was no way she agree, and that's final!

The other girl knew what her girlfriend was talking about, and understood. But at the same time… She looked down at her hands folded across her lap. "I know he's a bit of a fixer-upper, but we have Angel Dust here, and he hasn't ruined this hotel's reputation. And the same can be said for the Radio Demon, and all the…help he brought." Charlie looked her in the eye 'no, no,NO, NO, NO TE ATREVAS-' "Please, Vaggie. I know I can make this work, I promise. Just…give me a chance?" The puppy eyes were on full power now.

Vaggie let out a sigh, her will to fight back deflating like a fat Imp shot full of holes. 'Fuck. I can never say no to her.' At the same time, her girlfriend did bring up a valid point when she mentions the Hunter not ruining the hotel's rep.'Not that it can get any worse, we're already circling the drain as it is' "Fine, I'll take your point into consideration, Charlie. You can…try."

Charlie smiled and jumped form her chair, her beaming attitude back where it belonged. She leaned towards her girlfriend and hugged her, practically picking her up from the floor. "Thank you. Thank you so much, Vaggie!"

Her girlfriend patted her on the back, feeling better already. "There, there. Don't get too excited, we still have to find him, then he has to agree."

The hug broke, Charlie letting go with a curious expression. "Where could we look for him? I mean, he's only active on Extermination Day, he's practically a ghost for the rest of the year."

The one-eyed woman, regretting this immediately, had an idea for finding him. "I think Angel Dust can help with that."

-Scene Change-

Twenty plates were stacked up as the Hunter, who was, as per usual, seated alone, at a restaurant in a Victorian-Styled District, devoured his twenty-first Salted-Beef, lettuce, and tomato sandwich. His rigorous 'workout' built up an incredible hunger, and, considering he had survived off of rations and whatever questionable food he could find for far too long, he didn't care if his manners were a touch ravenous. Eating new foods had always helped him with stress during his younger years, and he had grown fond of finding restaurants such as these to visit with several friends. Considering he had nearly cleaned out the kitchens several times over this same week, he was pleasantly surprised that he kept his hard-earned physique, but that could be due to his aforementioned workout, his deceptively large attire, or that he wasn't quite human anymore. Bah, enough about that when he's got delicious food to eat.

Scooping up the last bits of bread crumbs and meat, he set the empty plate down on the stack, and rubbed his mouth with a tissue before raising his mask. He hailed the server to let them know that he had finished, then stood from his table and walked towards the counter to pay. He counted through his money, then placed enough bills down to compensate for the food that he ordered…plus a little extra. "I believe this should cover it."

The peacock cashier accepted his money, then frowned while counting it. "Uh…you overpaid? By like… a lot?" And indeed, the Hunter had given her the Hell equivalent of half a grand for a meal that cost fifty dollars.

The Hunter was insistent. "Keep it. Think of it as payment for the hard work you have done. I don't want you to be left with an empty pocket." Truth be told, he simply had too much of the stuff lying around due to his deals with Carmille, and he could scarcely deplete his overabundance of wealth before it started piling up again from one thing or another Had he had this 'problem' prior to discovering his illness, there was a possibility he wouldn't have had to- 'Stop. Not now.'

The cashier looked at him, then at the stack of cash in her hands, before facing him again. She smiled, nervously at the Hunter. "Um, sure. Thanks." She chased the necessary amount in the cash register, then pocketed the hefty sum that remained. Once that was done, she looked back at him. "Thanks for that, really. This restaurant would have been out of business three years ago if it weren't for you."

The Hunter hummed in interest upon hearing this. "Is that so?"

The cashier nodded in confirmation. "Yes. Turns out, food from our era isn't as popular as the kind of stuff these modern cooks and machines can churn out, and we've barely been hanging on due to a few nostalgic nobles with big stomachs. But since you came around, that's finally changed. Now we don't have to worry about affording enough fuel just to keep the lamps on."

This particular Sinner had been alive during the Renaissance era, and had been a server then too. The entire staff used to work at the same diner, before they all died of lead poisoning. She'd seen quite a few things in her time, and couldn't care less about her favorite regular's activities or appearance, so long as they stayed in business. There was one other regular, but the peacock hadn't seen her in a while. She hoped to see her again, the crow always had the most fantastic stories to tell.

"I see…" He muttered, pleased that he had finally done something right in life, however small. He waved goodbye as he picked up his weapons, before heading out into the night. As he entered the streets of the Old Silver district, the Hunter looked around the area to see a much calmer scene than it had known in a lifetime. Years ago, the Silver district, which was part of an "old fashioned" city, became home to many Prohibition Era era gangs, from New York to Chicago during the end of the Great Depression. Most were just run of the mill mobsters and bootleggers, who had waited for their bosses down in Hell after carving out a spot for them in the (at the time) wealthiest city, smelling opportunity. A few of the bigger names had made it, and had continued right where they left off on the surface, but had found that their power topside was worthless down here. What was the point of smuggling weapons when you could get better guns at a grocery store? What was the point of bootlegging when the convenience stores sold stronger booze cheaper? Hell may have been a den of sin and vices, but when your trade was in the same sins and vices that used to be a rarity, what was the point? So they had gone back to gunning each other down in the streets, like tiny nations at war. When they had found out they didn't die easy, well that's where creativity came in. What was once the Silver district, a shining display of wealth and power that didn't exist topside at the time, was now the Iron district, of harsh laws and harsher punishments, where not abiding by any of the dozen-odd rulebooks each gang wrote could get you chopped into bits and buried in concrete. They were still digging up people to this day.

It was like that for nearly seventy years until the Hunter arrived three years ago. When he had first arrived in the dangerous area, he had been, admittedly, a tad out-of-sorts. First he had awoken to find himself a monster, then he had discovered that almost three centuries had passed, then he had been threatened by no less than five separate groups for his choice of attire. His first Sinner proved to be a challenge. Not in skill, but the fact that they wouldn't die. When his weapons had failed to end their life permanently, he had instead cut them into the smallest pieces he could, then went out in search of whatever weapon he needed. This is how he had met Carmille, with him carrying a screaming gopher head in a bag, asking people if they knew how to kill them, and her watching as he kept sawing off the slowly regrowing neck. This was how their first deal was struck, with her giving him the secret of killing Sinners in exchange for the wealth of the Iron families. The Hunter, fully absorbed in the mission, agreed. One very bloody night later, he completed his mission, and Carmille was a hundred million dollars richer.

Then came the hard part: actually fixing the district. The people that lived there were bitter, suspicious, and paranoid. That's how they had survived for so long, after all. But when a new player showed up, whacked all five heads, then didn't start making rules? They were getting a taste of a new future. He had tried, genuinely tried, to make things better the normal way, but it was obvious his standards of living were woefully out of date. So, he made use of the curse that afflicted him. He simply ordered peace, and therefore there was. He couldn't do so for the entire city, but what was once the Iron district was now a true neutral ground, and had slowly begun to breathe again after so many decades of stagnation. But, the district had changed in more than just a metaphorical atmosphere. Rather, the physical atmosphere had changed as well, and was shrouded in a thin but enveloping mist that was achingly familiar to the Hunter.

The calm environment allowed him to be deep in his thoughts. Bitterness came to mind; having lost far too many of his brothers and sisters-in-arms during his Night of the Hunt, yet he had found himself alone in this strange environment, an ascended Hunter who lost everything in Yharnam. His sins, his murders all came with him however, Beasts, humans, and humanoids alike, drowned in a dark and fetid lake of blood. It didn't matter who or what he killed, it had changed nothing. Yet even after his failures in life, he had kept killing during these three years in Hell.

It was still an unknown territory to him, after all. It was easier, and often more beneficial, to simply do what came instinctively. The Hunter had to always be on guard wherever he went and could take no chance, regardless of the people he was talking to.

Especially to the two people that were following. One of them, given the scent of blood and perfume, was a particularly brutal woman. 'She's carrying something of Angelic nature. Spear, knife, or just a trinket?' The other was the scent he had the misfortune of smelling far too often. It seemed that the 'porn-star' known as Angel Dust had decided they were friends. While he wasn't the sociable type, any company that wouldn't attempt to swindle, bribe or endanger him was preferable to none. He turned to greet his company, a spider and a one-eyed bomber that carried a spear by her side.

"Yo, Hunter!" Angel greeted him with a flirtatious smile. "Did ya miss lil' ol' me?"

"No," The Hunter nonchalantly replied, already exhausted from this exchange.

The pornstar dramatically reeled back and gasped at the other man's response. He turned to his compatriot, a beaming smile plastered across his face. "See, Vaggie? I told you he's an enthusiastic fella."

"I can see that." Vaggie flatley answered, before shifting to the Hunter. "You got quite a reputation around here, or so I've heard."

"So it seems," The Hunter spoke, not caring about the mentioned reputation at all. If anything, he was more often than not reminded of his opposite reputation, where every other hour he was harassed in the streets by begrudged members of now-defunct gangs and fighters looking for the 'Iron Breaker'. All factors considered, this one might be one of the latter. Although…perhaps it was time he didn't go for violence from the get go. Since it was someone Angel knew, maybe he could trust them, if only for a minute.

The one-eyed woman glanced at Angel, who merely flashed a thumbs up at her, before focusing back on her target. "You're doing great!" Angel whisper-yelled at her. She resisted the urge to break his neck, before sighing. Alright, so-

"What is your purpose here?" The Hunter was getting tired of this. She wasn't trying to fight him, but at the same time, she wasn't getting to the point.

Angel and Vaggie looked at each other. 'Alright, to the point then' "Charlie- as in Charlie Morningstar, the princess of Hell, would like to invite you to the Happy Hotel, and blah blah blah redemption blah blah I didn't finish the script." The pornstar (poorly) explained, hoping that they could finish up quick so he could visit his favorite diner around here. One of the things that had survived the Iron years and the Hunter's rampage had been authentic 1920's era Italian cuisine, and he was itching for some authentic pasta that he didn't have to slog through family territory to get. Linguine tasted best when a family member wasn't screaming in your ear.

"The Princess of Hell?" The Hunter spoke, a slight hint of surprise in his voice. He knew of her, he had seen the broadcast, and while it hadn't painted her in a good light, he understood the idea. However, the same idea that the denizens of Hell scoffed at and mocked found favor in his eyes. He had learned that not every problem needed blood spilt, nor bones broken. He had thought, for a moment, what it would be like, to be redeemed, until the reminder of what he was sunk in his chest. He would never be allowed near the gates of Heaven, no matter how hard he tried. But, he didn't expect her, of all people, to come find him.

"Yes," Vaggie nodded, "She heard about your reputation from your…let's say, questionable actions here over the past three years."

The Hunter lowered his head slightly. Actions do indeed have consequences. Still, he lifted his head and began to ask a single question. "What does she want?"

"Charlie wants you to join the Hazbin Hotel, find redemption, and go to heaven." Vaggie answered, hoping he declined.

Again, he was slightly more surprised than last time. "She wants me to stay at her hotel?"

Again, the one-eyed woman nodded. "Yes. She has the idea that, if you can be redeemed, then anyone can go to Heaven." Her words were laced with uncertainty, which the Hunter could understand. While he wasn't above the idea of a better life, he truly did not deserve anything better. "So, what do you say?"

The Hunter thought long and hard about it. On one hand, he could simply deny and just walk off, returning to the life he understood. But that would mean he would never be redeemed, and he would have personally slighted the highest of Hell's nobility. While he couldn't care less about the politics of Hell, he was not willing to test the mercy of the daughter of Lucifer. On the other hand, he could simply comply, change his life for the better, then…what? There was no future in Heaven for him, he knew that much. But if someone actually believed he could change for the better, what could he lose? There was a clear answer. He drew in a deep breath of the misty air, then released it. "Very well. I shall travel with you."

Vaggie couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration. He wasn't supposed to say yes! He was supposed to decline, spout something stupid so she had an excuse to punch him, then she'd go home. Uuh, whatever. Puta. Here's hoping he didn't fuck things up anymore than they already are. "Alright then. I'm headed back, Ang-" She lost Angel. Whipping around, she realized he had ditched her in the fog, and was probably off doing Hell-knows what, while leaving her with the potentially unhinged maniac. Damnit.

HH: Alright, take two. Most of the legwork in this story is looking up random historical things because I'm an uneducated American.

The Hunter has begrudgingly joined Hazbin Hotel at the request of the Princess of Hell, Charlie Morningstar. Also blink and you miss it cameo

Probably gonna revamp a lot more chapters, see if I missed anything the first time around

Sorry if there were any Out Of Character Moments or any lore I fucked up, but I want to satisfy those who wants to read it. (HH: If we got it wrong, fuck you reality is what I make it. In this story two characters are fucking nasty everytime they're offscreen and there's nothing you can do about it.)

See ya all in the next chapter, motherfuckers!

Chapter 2: A New Purpose

HH: I am wanted by McDonald's for my crimes against food committed in the kitchens of South Carolina, Delaware, Kentucky, and Quebec. They will never take me alive.

CS: Right….I'm gonna be ignoring that. Let's return to the rewrite.

Word of warning: This fanfic will contain graphic violence, strong languages, sexual themes, and things against the Christian Religion… Actually, with every Religion. Viewer discretion is advised because its FUCKING Hazbin Hotel and Bloodborne.

A Hunter's Guide for Running A Hotel

II

A New Purpose

'Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, a misguided path to redemption!' -A quote by The Radio Demon regarding said Hazbin Hotel

At the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie couldn't help but to bounce up and down in her seat excitedly after getting her confirmation text from Vaggie. She is reading it for the twentieth time, giddy as can be. "Got the Hunter for you. I'm bringing him back alone, Angel ditched me."

Reading this only caused the Princess of Hell to get even more excited, to the point that her smile was threatening the Radio Demon's. She was waiting in the lobby area, as well as the rest of the staff, for Vaggie's return with the infamous individual. Husk, already bored, couldn't help but fire off a dry comment after emptying his second bottle. "So, you're telling me you're bringing a killer here? Specifically, the one known for breaking the Iron district? The same guy with a grudge against angels, having the highest kill count after only three years of activity? Jury's still out on the count, but I'd wager my best bottle he's buried at least a small town's worth." Husk wasn't one to make idle bets either, the last one he made costing him everything.

Charlie was simply too excited to care, and looked at the bartender with her beaming grin, the glare from her teeth causing Husk to squint his eyes. 'Damn those are some pearly whites.' "Uh-huh. Sure, he spilt a lot of blood, sure, he's wiped out a few families, and yeah, I'm a bit worried about his temper, but don't you see some good in him?"

"Dear, while I'm no saint, I don't believe anything he's done could be called 'good' by even the most brainwashed cultist." Alastor chimed in with his radio voice. After all, every time he had 'saved' someone was when he had used them as bait. One particularly unlucky sinner had claimed he had been getting chased by a pack of ten, and the Hunter had waited until twenty were following before cutting them down like flies. Not quite a savior, but an opportune assassin. A scavenger too, if the delectable new meat shops were not lying about their source. And more angelic weapons were passed around after his involvement, hinting at his role as an arms dealer. All in all, quite a list to carry, especially if he sought the impossible goal of redemption.

Charlie nodded quickly at her facility manager. "I know! He's perfect! If he can get into Heaven, then who can't? I just know this will work."

The bartender didn't see it in the same light as her. "More likely it won't, and you've invited a serial killer with the only weapons known to kill the likes of us into a place full of easy targets."

Niffty saw the same light Husk did, but a different view. "I hope so! I heard he ripped organs out of people while they were still screaming, and strung up their bodies like Christmas lights! Oh, he's so dreamy. Ooh, do you think if I ask nicely enough, he'll show me how to do it using my bare hands!?"

Husk, Razzle, and Dazzle shifted slightly away from the tiny demon, reasonably uncomfortable with her fascination with the Hunter and his brutal ways. Niffty was lost in a red and screaming wonderland, and was just as excited as Charlie for his arrival. "So, when do you think he'll get here?"

THUNK THUNK

"I'm back Charlie! As for you, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel."

She and everyone else saw a very worn out Vaggie, standing in the doorway, along with…

A man in a strange outfit walked in from behind the ragged manager. The rest of the staff had already known that the Hunter was old-fashioned in dress and appearance. It's what they had heard from the numerous rumours: the same dark coat and capelet, the tattered tricorn hat, the mask that concealed the face, and the red eyes that matched every other sinner's. Charlie, having not known beforehand, was surprised that he had a (generally) human appearance, despite his reputation in Hell. She was expecting some wall of muscle with spikes, huge teeth and flaming eyes, but this was admittedly better.

The Princess of Hell, realising that the room had become awkwardly silent upon the person of interest's appearance, immediately hopped to her feet, and practically ran up to him in an attempt to make conversation. "Hi! I'm Charlie, you must be-"

"The Hunter we have heard so much about?" Alastor smoothly interrupted as he stepped in front of said individual, holding his hand in front of him. "The name's Alastor! You might have heard of me before, yes?"

The Hunter looked down at the offered hand and to Alastor before answering. "My apologies, but no, I have not." Alastor, unfazed by the Hunter's refusal to touch him, he simply brought his hand back and stepped back, amused. Also a bit miffed, because who hasn't heard of him? What kind of rock was this guy living under if the Radio Demon was an unknown?

Charlie cleared her throat to grab their attention, now that she had a bit more control of herself. The two men turned to face her, and the infamous Overlord, knowing what he had done, and not caring, expressed his 'apologies' "Oh, forgive me for interrupting. But I may have interrupted her introducing herself." Alastor told him.

The man of interest looked at the Hotel Founder. "There is no need for that. I already know you, Miss Morningstar."

The Princess of Hell felt a bit disturbed about that. True, having someone know about her beforehand made it easier to explain her point of view, but the way he said it made it seem like he knew too much. Seeing her girlfriend getting uncomfortable, Vaggie shot a glare at him. "Mind your manners, this is a princess you're talking to!" She had been dealing with him for far, far too long, ever since Angel disappeared, leaving her to rely on her guest's navigation to find the exit of the labyrinthine district. She had tried, for what had felt like several hours, to leave using what she thought was the path Angel had taken, only to run into three dead ends and somehow end up where they had started. And when they had gotten out, it had turned out to have only been fifteen minutes, yet she felt like she ran up a mountain backwards. Suffice to say, she couldn't care less who he was, only that it had been a bitch and a half to get him here, so she wasn't taking anymore bullshit from him.

Knowing the acute suffering of wandering cold, dark streets with no end in sight, the Hunter had a twinge of sympathy for her, and so did as she said."I apologise," The Hunter said, "I do not wish to cause any misunderstandings, I just mean to say I knew who you were from the papers."

Boisterous laughter came from the door, as Angel, who stood at the entrance of the building wiping the last bits of linguine from his mouth, heard the Hunter's genuine apology. (seriously, who actually meant it when they said sorry? This guy was a riot.) "Oh don't worry, you didn't. She's just protective of her girlfriend, and you always find a way to poke at people's sensitivities."

That statement caught the man off guard. He didn't know that the Princess of Hell was in a relationship with a girl. Bah, it didn't matter. He immediately restored his stoicism as he straightened himself and looked at the one-eyed woman, still frazzled from her trip through the Old Silver streets. "I see. Forgive me for my unacceptable attitude towards your partner."

Vaggie wanted to pinch the bridge of her nose, or punch in someone else's. The fact that he was actually attempting to be polite made it very hard to be mad at him, and she really needed something to be mad at right now. However, it would not be now, considering that he was still technically a guest. She sighed, and turned to the couch, eager to flop onto it and rest her screaming everything. "Charlie, do what you have to do. I'm not in the mood for this right now."

Charlie beamed, now that it was her time to shine, and turned at the Hunter confidently. "Alright, let me introduce you to everyone else!" She gestured to each staffmate as she introduced them to her soon-to-be guest. "You already know about Alastor and Angel Dust. But…" She set her hand on her tired lover's shoulder. "This is Vaggie, my girlfriend, and the manager of this hotel." She then pointed over to Husk. "This is Husk, our concierge and bartender."

"Yo."

"And this is…" She noticed that someone was missing from the group. She turned around and scanned the area. "Has anyone seen Niffty?" The members of the hotel felt a bit worried (terrified) knowing that the most energetic (psychotic) staff member was out of sight.

Husk tilted his head back to take a swig of his beer bottle, then spotted the missing member. "You know how to look up?"

Charlie raised her eyebrow at the cat-like demon, and was about to ask when- "HI!" Niffty had, apparently, scampered across the ceiling like a cockroach, and had dropped from said ceiling directly in front of the Hunter, who was bewildered at a child (or what looked like a child) being in Hell. "I'm Niffty, the housekeeper here! I deal with pests here by sometimes killing mother bugs in front of their children as a warning to others! But I've heard you skin and mutilate people with your bare hands as a warning! Can you please teach me those brutal skills!? Pleasepleaseplease!"

The Hunter didn't know why, but he felt uncomfortable with this minor demon's request. But, not one to make children cry, he decided it couldn't hurt to tell a small lie. He lowered to her level to look her in the eye. "One day. If I am granted permission."

"Which you won't," Vaggie chimed in, lying on the couch. One moderately psychotic maid was enough, she didn't need her to be 'taught' anything by another, more dangerous psycho.

The Princess of Hell sat next to two floating goat-like demons and gently petted each one as they nuzzled against her. "These two are Razzle and Dazzle, the Hotel's mascots, and my personal bodyguards, they've been with me ever since my childhood." With the introductions finally done, she focused her full attention on the Hunter. "Now that you know everyone here, are there any questions?"

The Hunter looked around the Hotel, studying the interior architecture. It was surprisingly elegant and well-kept for a building in Hell, but there were a couple answers he wanted first. He turns to look at The Princess of Hell. "Considering what this place is known for, what you promise, who I am and what I am known for, you wish for me to seek redemption, so as to show that if a monster such as I can be granted access to Heaven, then anyone else can stand before the gates as well. Correct?"

Charlie blinked. 'Oh. Well, at least I don't have to explain it to him.' "Yes, actually, that was what I was hoping for. So… are you in?" Charlie did her best 'convincing grin' that her dad had taught her how to do when she was young, hoping it worked.

It did. Partially. But he couldn't be hasty, he needed to find out if he was hearing things correctly. She wants him to stay at the Hazbin Hotel. She wants him to find redemption. Why? Mulling over his thoughts, "Are you sure that my presence here ruin this place's unfortunately dismal reputation? Would it not be detrimental, for the rumors to say that this place is now the den of a monster?"

Husk groaned, feeling this back and forth starting to grind his nerves. "Oh for fuck's sake, this is going nowhere! If he doesn't wanna stick around here, fine, but don't force him to stay! He's right anyway, we'll gain infamy instead of reputation if the word on the street says the baddest motherfucker in town took over this place."

The Princess of Hell internally cringed at hearing Husk's retort. She knew he had a point, but she was firm on her reasoning. She could do this. She looked back at the Hunter. "While all that's true, I truly believe that you are lost. You don't have a single goal, and you've wandered aimlessly the last few years, trying to find something to fill that dark hole inside. I know things may be scary, but I can promise that they can get better!"

"What are you trying to say, Miss?" The Hunter inquired, curiosity increasing nominally.

"I'm saying that you have a place here, that you deserve a shot at Heaven" she responded with a smile. "I know staying at a hotel isn't your niche, but I know you can make it, all you have to do is try. While it's definitely a work in progress, I'm not saying you have to do this, I'm simply offering it to you. What do you say?"

Charlie's heartfelt proposal gave the Hunter pause. He, an ascended Hunter, last of his kind, who had endured the horrors of Yharnam and beyond, has been offered something that required no violence and no bloodshed, with promise of a better future. No death or destruction. No nightmares, no monsters. For once, he saw a ray of light. But, simultaneously, he can't help but feel that something had to be wrong about this, it was simply too good an offer. 'What am I meant to do? I am a Hunter who only lives for the next Hunt, who only fights to survive. What could I possibly do to be redeemed, what can Miss Charlie Morningstar offer me? I don't want to upset her, given her status, nor do I believe that I deserve redemption. And yet… I wonder… can a soul as black as mine can truly be forgiven?' A defeated sigh escaped through his lips, and he looked back at Charlie. "I accept your terms."

Charlie squealed in pure excitement, because she was right. A large smile split her face as she rushed the Hunter, crushing him (or attempting to, sweet Hell was his torso rigid) in a big, tight hug, causing the strange outfit to creak under the pressure. "THANK YOU THANK YOU! I KNEW YOU WOULD SAY YES I KNEW IT!" Unknown to her, due to his time there and his self-imposed exile following his awakening, he hadn't felt any form of intimacy in a long, long time, and was unused to things as simple as a hug. He really wanted to push her away, but knew that would be incredibly rude.

Vaggie saw his pain, and couldn't help but think about the cold, dark streets she had blindly stumbled through while her guide didn't say a word to help. No way would he get the better end from her girlfriend tonight. "Hey Charlie, he doesn't look so hot…"

Said girl looked at her before shifting back to Hunter, who was very uncomfortable with her being close to him. She immediately let go and took a few steps back. "Oh, I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright." He interrupted her as calmly as he could. He looked at the others. "I suppose that since I am now a guest here, is there anything specific that must be done?"

"I'm glad you asked!" Alastor spoke with a broad smile as he once again moved in front of the Hunter. "While you are a strong, strapping young lad, you're also known for being fast and efficient! Since every other base is covered, you can help by being an extra hand wherever it's needed."

"Is that so?" The Hunter was a tad huffed about that. Him, a powerful fighter, relegated to being an errand boy. 'Oh well, such is the path to redemption.'

Charlie decided to be the one to talk. "Basically, since we're kinda full in every other field, I was thinking that you could just help out when needed instead of having an official 'job'. I know it probably isn't an exciting job, but at least you have a place here."

"I…see…" The Hunter spoke with uncertainty. "Very well, should I start now?"

Charlie immediately shook her head. "No no, you only just got here, and I don't think it's the healthy option to start right now. How about you take the rest of the day off, and we'll see what needs done tomorrow?"

The Hunter silently considered it. He stood still while processing Charlie's words, dragging out an uncomfortably long silence. He nodded his head. "Very well, I shall put my things away."

Charlie smiled and clapped her hands together. "Okay then!" She looked over at her girlfriend. "Vaggie, would you take the Hunter to one of our guest rooms?"

The one-eyed woman slowly, agonizingly peeled herself off of the couch, beckoning the Hunter to follow her. "I can do that, alright come this way." As she trudged up the stairs, she let out a sigh. Things would change, and probably not the way Charlie hoped they would. "Este cabron causará cualquier daño que venga?" She muttered under her breath. Unknown to her, the Hunter heard her due to his enhanced hearing. Also unknown to her, he didn't understand a word of it because he couldn't speak Spanish.

-Scene Change-

Charlie let go of the breath she was holding as she saw her newest member walking away. She looked at the others, who hadn't left the lounge yet. "So, what do you guys think of him?"

Angel already had a response to give, even while scrolling Sinstagram. "Still the same badass I've known for three years running. Seriously, that's the kinda attitude that needs the power he's packing to back it up. There's a reason no Overlord's tried setting up 'shop' in the recently vacated Iron district, and it's 5''10 with a bigass sword-thingy. If he can get into Heaven, I'd be a fucking Saint."

Husk, like before, took another swig of his fifth beer of the hour before answering. "Quite a character that one is. While I couldn't care less about who he was, who he is is a whole other story. He isn't really such a sociable guy, thank fuck for that, but something about him makes me feel ickier than a nun in a strip club.."

For once, Niffty agreed with the gruff bartender. "Uh-huh! He's such a bad boy, with such terrible manners! I really want to learn other things from him, like how he skinned that jackal Sinner with a chunk of glass!" She said this with a gleeful tone, remembering the pictures she had taped to her headboard.

Alastor still had that smile on his face as he sipped his cup of tea, not letting his lips touch at any point. "It's as the rumour says, the Hunter is the type of person that is very difficult to find. I applaud Vaggie for her efforts, but he's the kind of man where, if he doesn't want something to exist anymore, it doesn't. Though, there is much more to him than what he shows." Chuckling at a joke no one else understood, Alastor sipped his tea again.

Charlie was about to ask him what he meant, when Vaggie stumbled into the room. She looked exhausted, but dutifully carried out her task. "Hunter is resting in his room, and apparently he already brought everything he had with him. Should have fucking known he'd know, motherf- Anyway, he told us to not interrupt him until tomorrow."

Charlie smiled at her girlfriend, planning on treating her tonight for her efforts. "Thanks, Vaggie." She noticed that she had a troubled look in her eyes. Well, more than usual at least. "What's wrong?"

Vaggie turned to her, yawning before she spoke. "Something about his eyes."

Every person in the room looked at one-eyed woman, some confused, some uncaring, some curious. Charlie thought to ask what was on everyone's mind. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that there's something up with his eyes. Pretty much everyone else I've known has got something going on behind their eyes, but his eyes just don't look…real. It's unnerving."

"I know what you mean, dude's got some fucked up shit that makes lookin' him in the eyes hard, but aside from that, he's a real swell guy, once you get past the bricked-off poker face and violent empty personality." Angel had, admittedly, been creeped out the first coupla' times he'd made the mistake of looking at dear ol' Hunter directly in the face, but had come to relax in the feeling of not being visually dissected by every guy he met. Aside from that, the Hunter was a champ when it came to not lookin' at someone's money makers, and he could despise that. That was where his money came from after all! He's put a feast before the guy and he didn't even snack!

Vaggie begrudgingly agreed with the pornstar's comment. "I guess so, but it just makes him look…apathetic to everything. Maybe I'll get used to it but, maybe not." There was also something else that was plaguing her mind. She kept to herself for the sake of not having everyone call her crazy. 'Where did he come from? He seems early Victorian, but there's no way someone like that can hide for so long without detection. I don't think he's from Heaven either, if Adam had someone like that, he would parade them around like a show pony. And his gear too, I've never seen anything that exotic. Somehow his stuff is really well made, while looking makeshift as a pipe shotgun. I'm gonna have to 'ask around' some more, but not tonight.' She let out a sigh and gave the staff, who had already started another verbal battle while she was distracted, a warning. "Tomorrow, we just have to watch him a bit, since we don't know what he does in his spare time." Next time, she's just gonna tell Charlie no, no matter how hard it may be! (Yeah she's gonna lose the next time too.)

-Scene Change-

Night was approaching, as evident by the great pentagram in the sky beginning to dim. Naturally, everyone was still wide awake, with only a few sickos actually trying to sleep. While it was usually a time of peace topside, it only brought painful memories for the Hunter. Memories that could drive one to insanity.

He sat down at a small table, with more functioning legs than any piece of furniture he had previously owned. He was updating his journal, and recorded everything that had happened recently. He had (politely) told Vaggie that he wanted some alone time, and would like to not be disturbed for the rest of the night. Especially Alastor, who was already starting to give him signs that he couldn't be trusted. A short time and only six distant explosions later, he finished writing his journal, and placed it back into his pocket. A tired sigh escaped from his lips. Starting tomorrow, he'll be a guest of the Hazbin Hotel, where people like Angel, or monsters like him, can go for redemption.

If he was to be honest, the Hunter didn't truly believe in Charlie's idea. He knew what people's true nature was, and that some didn't truly deserve redemption. His thoughts pondered on the Great One, Kos, and those who had cursed themselves by desecrating her corpse, and killing her unborn child in the Fishing Hamlet, just to 'ascend' to some higher plane of being through the methods of using their pilfered blood and eyes. Due to their greed and lust for power, the city of Yharnam, once a wonder of the world, became an accursed place, faded from memory.

Even having scoured the libraries of Byrgenwerth, even after reading experiment after experiment, even after witnessing horrors that were disgustingly within comprehension, he still didn't understand, what were they trying to do? Why try to make life more than it needs to be? Was one not enough? What would this 'higher plane' even provide that life itself could not? What answers did the torture and mutilation of their own people provide that was deemed necessary for progress? Even now, having been changed beyond his very soul, he still didn't understand the fuss. They wanted to be gods, yet did not question if the gods themselves wanted this power.

Still, the staff were, overall, decent. However, there were slights against each. Alastor, because of both his twisted grin and deceitful soul. He seemed to thrive off of the chaos and confusion that went on around him. Vaggie, due to both her temperament towards him, and a small itch at the back of his brain whenever she was present. What could it have been? Was it because of her relationship with another woman? No, because he didn't feel the same way about Charlie, nor did he truly care. What about her spear? That was a genuine Angelic Spear, so- no, the weapon itself had never truly made him feel threatened, even when held by a veteran Exorcist. Hmm, perhaps… bah, he'll deduce it at a later date.

For now however, he had to check on things over there. Having no one else around to see this would make it much easier to avoid detection.

The Hunter got to his feet, and turned towards the far side of the room. There was enough space that he wouldn't bump into a wall while walking, so he began his trip. About halfway across the floor, mist started spilling from him. By the time he reached three quarters of the way, he was encased. And when he should have touched the wall, the Hunter disappeared into the fog. And he awoke in a Dream.

HH: Alright, take two. I fucked with the setting a bit, and 'tragic backstories that everyone can somehow detect' has been nerfed into obsolescence, as well as 'everyone being edgy as fuck at all times' and Fire damage. Sorry Pyro mains, you're shit outta luck.

Bravo to me, I guess. Now, insert sarcasm, this deserves to have a fanart. If only you had the right funds. Goddamnit. Though, a TV Trope won't be that bad.

Why do I sound like an egoistic prick when saying that? (Brain worms) No, I shouldn't have them. Yet.

Anyway, excitement aside, the Hunter has finally joined the Hazbin Hotel. Though, he doesn't trust some *AHEM* Alastor and Vaggie. But it'll work itself out soon. It looks like he is heading somewhere. Either way, get ready for the next chapter because a familiar face from Bloodborne will appear. I assume you all know who I am talking about? HH: Fuck y'all it's gonna be Goku

Since no one had mentioned anything regarding what can change with the Good Hunter's involvement in Hazbin Hotel, I decided to do the opposite. Any complaints you have will have the opposite effect, and things will get worse for everyone. Me included. No porn though.

HH: Dog I'm tired of picking lemons out of the story, please just let me write some sloppy yaoi

CS: Okay. That can be two characters from the spinoff series. That is really popular, you know?

HH: These are veteran degenerate fingers, prepare thyself

Sorry if there were any Out Of Character Moments or any lore I fucked up, but I want to satisfy those who wants to read it.

See ya all in the next chapter, motherfuckers!

Chapter 3: Welcome Home, Good Hunter

No warning this time because it's just between two characters.

HH: Just kidding they make out sloppy style in between frames. I mean sloppy sloppy, against doors, walls, floors, they make out so hard Hunter dies from asphyxiation, then again from having his face ripped off from the sheer force of the Doll's suction. There's sweat, saliva, possibly blood flying through the air, the Messengers are traumatized, Gerhman's there in a dress

HH: Ignore that last part, I ate an entire box of expired cereal before realizing it was bad. Possibly have food poisoning.

HH: Anyway, part three of retooling this story, hope it turns out like it should. What does that mean? Fuck you I don't know either.

HH: Only warning about this story is me, the menace with a (can't think of anything that rhymes with menace pretend I said something cool)

Speaking of which…let's get onto it before I continue on my unnecessary rambling.

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

III

Welcome home, Good Hunter

'What is it you desire?'

A heavy fog, the scent of mist-soaked flowers, and the ever-present chill, these are safe and familiar senses that blanketed the Hunter, as he awoke in a field of pale white flowers. He was much more relaxed here than he had been in Hell, which was understandable given the nature of the cities, but also considering that this place was entirely impossible to invade, and quite possibly the safest stronghold in existence. This place, this dream, had always given him a breath of peace in between Hunts, and had grown accustomed to the once-dreary atmosphere, and was comfortable with the ever-present mist and slight chill. His mind eased out of the constant near-combat state he had been locked into, as he was knelt down to pay his respects to his late mentor, Gehrman, whom he had slain to free him from the chains of this Dream, and the thing that had been it's master. A gravestone, pure white marble, letters carved by his own steady hand, was erected by the side of the large tree overlooking the field. To the side of it was his wheelchair, the wheels ensnared in vines, as it was left as it was when Gerhman arose for the final time. After paying his respect to the First Hunter, he cleansed the tombstone from creeping vines with his combat knife, before turning back to the memorial again. "Goodbye for now, Gehrman." The Hunter turned around, and made his way towards the stairs.

He glanced to his left to see the trees. Not the trees that were dotted around the field, no. The trees that were titanic in size, each tall enough to reach the sky and wide enough to carry a mansion. Sometimes, he wondered, if the mist was not present, if he could see the vast canopy above, or the great roots burrowed into soil at an unknowable distance below. It could simply be for aesthetics, or to hold the Dream together, or both. However, he was not the one who designed this place, so he could never know. It was admittedly pleasant to view, as opposed to some vast pit or endless stormy sea.

As the Hunter reached the apex of the stairs, a melodic humming reached his ears. His attention turned to the source, knowing what he'd find. Or rather, who. Kneeling in front of one of the many tombstones scattered throughout the workshop's graveyard, a wet cloth was in her right hand with a bucket on her right side, the Doll carried out her duties. The Hunter watched her in awe as she cleaned the part where the grime was particularly thick. It was like magic, the Doll's cleaning capabilities. He had known many housewives and butlers that would have killed for the skills she possessed. No stain, no spill, nothing could stop her. He had thought that she was damaging the floors, but instead her skilled hands could pull the offending detritus from the surface, and toss it to the side. Most likely magic, but she had surprised him many times before with her capabilities. Then again, considering who she was designed by and after, it was nothing too shocking.

The Doll had finished with erasing the last spots of green when she heard footsteps behind her. She gently placed the cloth onto the edge of the bucket, then raised to her scarily tall height, smoothing her elegant dress and skirt flat. She turned to face the Hunter, her face expressionless, before bowing down with a slight smile. "Ah, welcome home, Good Hunter."

The Hunter returned the gesture, a habit built from his experiences with other Hunters. He had a smile hidden underneath his mouth cloth, a rare sight both inside and outside this haven. "Good to see you, old friend. I sincerely apologise for not visiting you for so long, but that has changed as of late."

The Doll gave a sympathetic expression as she nodded. "No matter, so long as you are safe. How was your journey in the waking world? Was there anything interesting?" Her tone carried a note of enthusiasm as she knew that since her dearest Hunter had been away for a bit longer than usual. He would have fantastic tales of the waking world. Or, at least, a part of it.

"A few things of note, although thankfully nothing has changed for the worse," The Hunter replied in a neutral voice, "Though there is something I wish to share with you." He glanced down to a small, bubbling hole near her feet, from which the Messengers crawled out. They raised their arms out to the Hunter, as they were happy to see him once again. He knelt down to scratch the little creatures on the head, while looking at the Doll. "I believe we should take this inside. Quite a lot has occurred since the last time we spoke."

The Doll didn't seem to mind his proposal. "Very well, let me put away my things before I do." The Hunter nodded, then carried the bucket for her.

They walked the short pathway to the workshop, where the Hunter deposited the bucket in the washroom to be cleaned later. Once they entered the main room, the Hunter let his eyes roam across the hall, and the many tools and weapons he had collected, tested, (heavily) used, and organized. He had the Doll to thank for many, many mercies, and his entire weapon stash being completely cleaned of blood was one of them. At times, he'd simply watch and admire how she could clean every nook and cranny of the interior, leaving no survivors. The Hunter, being polite, doffed his tricorn, and hung it on the rack alongside his heavy coat, leaving him with his hardened vest as he walked to one of the empty chairs facing each other next to the fireplace, and sat down. He pulled down the cloth over his face, and rubbed at the slight stubble growing. (Only slight, and did that ever cause him grief. How old was he, and still his chin was not graced by his father's full beard that he had been envious of for so long? How much more could he suffer before he could be seen in public with a respectable length?)

As he patiently waited for the Doll, he made the mistake of looking into the mirror, into his face. His face…his face wasn't real. None of him was technically. When he had become who he was, he had lost his human form, stuck in the form of a strange mollusk, vaguely resembling the last monster he had slain . It had been one of the first things he had done when awakening, constructing this shell of a body that resembled the one he used to be. 'Resembled', because while it looked like a human's figure, in truth nothing about it functioned as it should have. His flesh was of the same material as his…hide, as pliant as leather yet stronger than most metals. His hair was some sort of filament, and the few hairs he had plucked for study were stronger than they had any right to be. He had no bones, his structure was kept as it was simply because he willed it to be. No organs, no other orifices, and no skin. Akin to a wooden puppet he was, dancing on the strings he had connected to whatever and wherever his mind was, form without flesh, body without soul. The eyes were the worst part. The sclera was akin to plater in texture and appearance, and no matter how many times he had tried, he couldn't remember what they were colored. The worst part is, they had been his mother's eyes, so their loss stung even more. The only eyes this body was willing to accept were the crimson eyes that stared back at him now, reminding him of his sins.

His eyes trailed to the side as the Doll approached, handing him a recently brewed tea. Shaken from his stupor, the Hunter returned to the present. What he was didn't matter, what he did was. The Doll sat in the other chair, across the chair where the Hunter sat. As they settled, the Doll began conversing with him, beginning with what she knew from his previous trips. "You survived through another Extermination Day? Was this one any special?"

The Hunter took a small, measured sip, then looked at his dear companion while his hands were around the cup. "I did, and I slew two hundred Exorcists this time. They lack situational awareness, are completely dependent on their one single weapon, and have no plan besides wild attacks. It was disgustingly easy to ambush as many as I did. However, I doubt it would have gone unnoticed."

"Don't be so dismissive of your own skill, good Hunter. And while an abundance of bodies would normally be difficult to dispose of, the mouths of Hell ever hunger." The Doll reminded him, out of comfort rather than scolding. "They hunger, and you provide. While they may not be the Yharnamites you were sworn to protect, your role has changed very little." She had never seen an angel, but from what he had described of them, they matched the nameless Hunters who were reaped like grass, unskilled and unable to comprehend the horrors they faced.

"I am aware, my friend." The Hunter acknowledged rather solemnly, the weight of a thousand stolen lives was a drop in the sea of blood that was his sinful past. And yet, in taking a thousand lives, he had saved ten thousand more, no matter how 'good' or 'evil' they were. He had learned there was no such thing as pure good or pure evil, both in the Church's experiments, and the Hunter of Hunters' self-imposed penance. In addition to that, he also had to confine her to what else he had been doing.

"I have tried to make amends within the Old Silver district, and I feel as though I am making significant progress. Although, I do have some groups targeting me for it." He let out a sombre sigh as he stared at his tea. Truly, he had been busy with the chunk of the city that had fallen under his protection due to his impulsive actions. Before it was a district of pain and punishment, it had produced the largest amount of precious metals, jewels, and other such fineries, as well as being the maker of Queen Lilith's finest jewelry. It was what had attracted the attention of the outlaws of the time, who had plundered it for all it's worth, leaving a hollow shell behind in their wake. When he had arrived, the gangs were beginning to run out of things to steal, starting to poach and pilfer from the already impoverished people that were unfortunate enough to live there. When he had arrived, the people were all suspicious of him, which was understandable, yet he had been doing his best to revert the damage done, slowly returning the breath of life to the once great district. There was still very little for them, but the changes were evident, as some of the jewelers and smelters were beginning operations again. In a few more years, the district could finally thrive again. But as for him…

An old, weary sigh escaped from between his lips, his posture slumping slightly. "I grow weary of the Hunt. I tire of having to use my blades, of dodging death and catching wounds. I tire of the secrets I keep finding, the sins I keep uncovering. Can I not just be at peace?" When he had come here, reborn anew and stained by sin, he had thought this place would be different, having survived one Hell already. Yet, even in this strange undeath, he had found no peace. Until now.

The Doll can understand the feeling the Hunter displayed. Where he goes his past tendencies seem to follow him wherever he goes. She looked at him with her glassy blue eyes. "Indeed, Good Hunter. You have suffered long, and endured much, yet the long night never ends. Perhaps the end is near, when the Hunt ends, and rest comes easy."

"Perhaps." The Hunter quietly spoke. Perhaps indeed. With the formalities out of the way however, it was time for the main topic. "Something else you need to know, something important. It is an incredibly intriguing tale."

"Oh?" This must be the interesting news he had mentioned earlier. "And what is it?"

"There is a place known as the Hazbin Hotel, and I'm starting my first day after I wake up." The Hunter answered, then took a sip from his tea. His friend had a touch of confusion on her usual serene expression, and he elaborated. "It's a new building, where people undergo rehabilitation for the various addictions of Hell, and possibly be redeemed of their sins, and granted access to Heaven. It is a lofty and quite frankly naive idea, my friend, yet Miss Charlie Morningstar wishes to combat the overpopulation problem in Hell, without resorting to mass murder disguised as a solution."

The Doll hummed, contemplative. "Ah. Knowing her heart, the Princess of Hell would be the one to wish for such a thing." She knew of the Princess, due to the Hunter providing her with the information whenever he visited here after his long excursions in Hell. Unlike the Hunter, she lacked a paranoid heart, and could instead see the Hellborn Royal's intentions were genuine, if a bit smothering.

"Her goals, while idealistic, aren't reasonable." The Hunter explained with a bitter tone this time. "Miss Morningstar seems to forget that not everyone deserves redemption. There are those who have rightly earned their place in Hell. I believe she knows this, yet chooses ignorance. Her staff, however… I am not entirely sure how I feel towards them."

"What are they like?" The Doll asked. She could give her Good Hunter some advice if she wanted a picture of the others.

The Hunter silently mulled over each member and their respective quirks. He wanted to give his honest opinion of them to the Doll, so he had to push past his paranoia in order to truly understand each one. "The first one is Angel Dust, the first person in Hell who was genuinely non hostile. As of now, he is a guest at the Hotel, the first one in fact."

"Yes, I remember you mentioning his name to me." The Doll spoke with a hint of mirth. The spider sinner was always a consistent source of amusement for her, and his interactions with the Hunter could have brought her to tears, if she was capable of doing so.

The Hunter continued. "There's the Radio Demon, Alastor, one of the Overlords of Hell and somewhat of an advisor to the hotel. I do not trust him, he disturbs me. There's Vaggie, the manager and Charlie's girlfriend. She doesn't seem to like me very much, which is fair. I don't know why, but I have an odd feeling about her." He took a sip of his tea before resuming. "Husk is the hotel's bartender. He drinks far more than he serves, and seems tired of everything. Niffty is the housemaid, who seems too infatuated with myself and my methods. Lastly, there's Razzle and Dazzle, Charlie's childhood pets, and what may be the security of the Hotel." He let out a tiresome breath after finishing his explanation to her. "They are a unique crew with an uncommon goal, that are paradoxically common in Hell." Indeed, in Hell there were so many unique personalities that they all sort of blended together in his mind.

"Indeed they are." The Doll wholeheartedly agreed with him. "I believe it would be best to truly get to know them. You may not fully trust them yet, but it will help towards that. In turn, they will start trusting you more." That brought unpleasant memories for the Hunter as he remembered the efforts he had made with some surviving Yharnamites, only for them to die, or betray him, or go mad.

Still, the Plain Doll made a valid point for the Hazbin Hotel staff. What else can he do aside from spilling more blood? He breathed in, then out through his nose. "You are right, my friend." He looked at the fireplace, and watched the fire crackling, even though neither of them had set the blaze. "I suppose I will do what Miss Morningstar tells me to do." He placed his empty teacup onto the table that wasn't there before, then stood to leave.

Just then, a puddle of murky blue began bubbling from the floorboards, and the Messengers rose from the depths. This time, they had donned hats, and were wearing hats with wide brims. They presented him with his freshly cleaned Saw Cleaver, and a number of bullets for his Firearm. "Well, what do we have here?"

The Hunter took the handle of the Saw Cleaver, pocketing the bullets. Once it was fully in hand, he inspected the Messenger's work. The blade, once a pitted and slightly blood rusted chunk of metal, was now a gleaming, pure silver, and the handle had fresh wrappings. "I see…" The Messengers had an uncanny gift, whereas they could interact with the holy material, while he could not. He had been unable to use any of the Angelic metal he had previously hoarded before realizing it's worthlessness to him, but the Messengers had granted him this gift after his most recent offering to them. He looked down at the proud and gleeful creatures, a warm feeling in his cold heart. "Thank you. While I tire of killing, I also tire of having to resort to less familiar means in order to keep the demons at bay." The Hunter remembered what Miss Carmine had given him, a knife with a strange glow that burned his bare hand. It burned those that he stabbed worse, but he had given it back after the night, because it wasn't a Hunter's proper weapon. He may Hunt ruthlessly, but he will never kill slow.

The Doll nodded at the Hunter's new tool. "The Littles Ones became aware of this, Good Hunter. They wanted to use the metals from the weapons of the Exorcists you had collected, and forge your weapon anew. They hope you will find it to be useful now." The metal itself clashed fiercely with the blood deeply set into the Saw Cleaver, so they had wanted the metal tarnished and soaked in demon's blood to bridge the gap, similar to welding the two metals together using the blood.

The Hunter transformed his weapon from the Saw to the Cleaver, the once jarring sound of metal clanking was now a whisper smooth click. A smile formed on his lips before attaching it to his belt. "It will be. Until the day I hunt no longer, this shall remain by my side." He looked to the ornate timepiece on the wall, realizing how long he had been here. "Forgive me, my friend. Dawn is approaching, and I will be required soon."

The Doll nodded, as she collected the cup the Hunter had drank from. "Farewell Good Hunter. I wouldn't wish for you to be late on their first day."

The Hunter chuckled, as he stepped towards the door. "Don't worry, I won't be." He raised his mouth cloth, and donned his tattered Tricorne. He then grabbed his coat, feeling the weight settle upon his shoulders once more. Before he went, he looked back at his friend once more. "Is there anything you wish for, when I return?"

"Yes," The Doll replied with a plain tone. "Once you trust the staff, and they trust you, what will you tell them?"

The Hunter tightened his hand into a fist, then released it, letting out a firm breath. "I…I don't know. Too much of it must be hidden, while too little I can truly discuss. It would probably be best if I simply told them nothing."

The Doll had expected this. She didn't know either, but she knew it would come to light eventually. "If that is what you wish. I bid you farewell, Good Hunter. May you find your path in the waking world."

The Hunter waved to her as he departed from the workshop, descending the stairs. Once he reached the lamp, he touched it, and began to wake…

…

…

…

The Hunter woke up in the same position he slept in, leaning back in a chair, with his feet giving him support. He felt his weapon pressing hard into his back, despite him not having it when he fell asleep. Taking his feet off and unslinging his weapon, he inspected it once again, and eyed the polish under the dim light of the brightening world. He would have to remedy that, wouldn't want something to catch him because his weapon was gleaming. Perhaps a paper of sorts, or a proper sheath for it. Despite his current task, there was something else that was plaguing his mind. The Hunter looked out of the window, to see day dawning.

'This is the first day of my 'new life' I suppose. I wonder what Miss Morningstar has in mind?' He thought, walking to the door. As he got closer, he could feel that someone was standing on the other side, likely in an attempt to startle him. Unfortunately, he knew they were coming. He opened the door to reveal…

"Good morning, Hunter!" Alastor greeted him with a wide smile, leaning as far forward as possible for maximum personal space breaching.

Unphased, the Hunter greeted him in kind. "Good morning Alastor."

Despite his failed scare attempt, the Radio Demon wasn't letting him go easy. Only he could be the mysterious figure at this hotel, and there wasn't room for another! "Scared you, did I?"

"No." As he attempted to wear down the Hunter's patience, a glint of light caught his eye, and he glanced over to see a strange weapon on the table. A strange weapon… made of Angelic Steel. "Ooh, what have we got here? Does that happen to be yours? A bit on the large side, don't you think? Overcompensating, hmmm?"

"It is," The Hunter replied, which question he was answering was unknown. He stepped back towards the table, originally planning on leaving it behind, but thinking better of it now. "I do not want anyone touching it. That includes you. I don't want any accidents to happen."

'Ooh, tough guy huh? Fine, we'll see how long that lasts for.' Alastor accepted his warning. Maybe. "Well, they're your personal belongings, after all. I promise you that I won't touch it." He said through his creepy smile. "Now, since you are awake, how about I give you a tour of the hotel?"

The Hunter didn't care about what the Radio Demon was talking about, all he wanted to do was to get the day going and start helping around the hotel. If he had to appease him to get it on with, so be it. "Very well."

HH: HAH I fooled you it was THREE! Bet y'all feel dumb now huh!?

Now, it looks like the Hunter is about to start his first official day at the Hazbin Hotel. Will he kill Alastor in cold blood? Will Angel finally push him to alcoholism? Will he figure out how a cell phone works? Find out next year, when I forget my password again and Crimson has to write the entire chapter by himself!

Now, I just want to focus on the positive side. Let's see the stats of the Hunter. NOTE, this is what he was as a human before the end of the game.

Origin: Milquetoast

Name: TBA

Alias: Hunter

Appearance:

Medium Length Black Hair (Greying)

Hazel Eyes

Default male appearance, but very worn and tired

Vitality: 58

Endurance: 36

Strength: 50

Skill: 54

Bloodtinge: 10

Arcane: 8

Main Weapon: Saw Cleaver

Secondary Weapon: Most preferred Burial Blade, Whirligig Saw, and Holy Moonlight Greatsword

Main Firearm: Hunter's Pistol

Secondary Firearm: Varies, but favors the Repeating Pistol

Main and Favored Outfit: Hunter Set (capped version)

These were my stats on my run with this character, but the current story's Hunter has higher stats due to his new existence.

I want all of you to give constructive criticism and feedback to help improve this story.

I also want to thank gregorian12 for allowing me to use some of his ideas. He is a better expert on Bloodborne and Helluvaverse lore compared to me.

Sorry if there were any Out Of Character Moments or any lore I fucked up, but I want to satisfy those who wants to read it.

See ya all in the next chapter, motherfuckers!

Chapter 4: Surveying the Grounds

Word of warning: This fanfic will contain graphic violence, strong languages, sexual themes, mentions of suicide, excessive attempts at humor, and things against every Religion. Viewer discretion is advised because its FREAKING Hazbin Hotel and Bloodborne.

HH: I ran out of funny things to say.

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

IV

Surveying the Grounds

'Here we offer fun things'- A Description of what the Hotel can offer

The Hunter followed behind Alastor, the demented Sinner's 'tour' leading him around the hotel. While he had tuned him out a few floors ago, he kept glancing at the Radio Demon, in the faint hope that he would cease his prattling. Despite his best efforts to appear engaged, the demon caught him. "Something in your mind? You keep staring blankly at me, I was wondering if I had turned invisible."

"Just curious about something," The Hunter 'admitted', not wanting to be rude to one of his hosts. "This is definitely a strange place, even in Hell. I'm used to the goings of a more violent world, so something this quiet feels… strange."

Alastor hummed in interest, having found a new piece of the incredibly complex puzzle beside him. "Is that so?" 'So he's no stranger to blood and death? Useful to know.' He kept smiling, as if he could do anything else. "Well, it won't matter here. There will be a significant lack of blades and teeth near your throat here." He then put some thought into it, and looked back at the Hunter. "Apart from Vaggie. She doesn't seem to trust you."

"She has every right to be suspicious of me," The Hunter said blandly. "I am, after all, a suspicious individual."

"I will not deny that" The Hunter's blank gaze made his smile stretch even further, somehow. "But you can forget that for now." The Radio Demon reminded him with his signature wide smile. "Just focus on what's currently in front of you."

"Hmm." The Hunter muttered, nodding his head. He then nearly fell down a flight of stairs, as the Radio demon had had his full attention. He decided not to tell anyone about it, instead focusing on the important part. "Why are we still on this floor? I thought the tour was across the entire building."

The demon looked back at him, mockingly sighing, as though he was an ignorant child. "I'm showing you everything, and that takes a bit of time. We're currently heading towards the most important location of this hotel." As Alastor finished, he and the Hunter arrived in front of a door, the same as all the others in the hall. The Hunter could not tell what made it so special, yet before he could ask, Alastor knocked on the door. A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing a bedraggled Charlie in her pajamas. The Hunter instantly turned away, to preserve her dignity, his face burning red. He had seen her ankles! Her eyes were half shut from sleep, and she yawned, slowly waking up.

"What are you doing this early, Alastor? Is there anything-" Her eyes shifted towards the Hunter, who had gotten control of his face and was now looking off to the side, causing her to wake up fully. "Oh! I didn't know you were up too! Good morning Hunter!" She looked back at her Supervisor. "Is there anything you need?"

Alastor looked at her with that usual expression, amused he caught the Princess so off-guard. "Oh, I'm just giving him a quick tour, so he knows where everything is."

A groggy groan was heard in Charlie's room. Said person moved away as she turned to look at her girlfriend, who had just awoken and rubbed her right eye as she stumbled into view. She was also wearing pajamas, but the Hunter was even less ready for this. 'Her shoulders are showing!'

"Charlie, it's like four in the morning, who are you talking…" She immediately looks to see Alastor and the Hunter standing in the doorway. She snapped awake, her hand going out of his sight, behind the door, where the Hunter was sure a spear waited. "Alastor!? What are you doing with the Hunter?!"

"Why, I'm giving him a tour." The Radio Demon explained while nudging at the Hunter. "He is a guest now, what's the harm of letting him get to know the place better?"

The one-eyed girl was about to retort when her girlfriend beat her to it. "Right, it's his first day here, and he'll need to know more than our names." She stretched a few times before eyeing the two. "I'm… I'm going to sleep for a bit more before doing anything. It's too early even for me."

Knowing he had more free reign with the newest member made Alastor's smile grow more prominent. "Very well. Once I have given him a tour, I'll leave him in your hands."

Charlie tiredly nodded, before closing the door and trudging back to bed. Waiting until he heard her thump back down, the Radio Demon shifted to the Hunter with that wide, creepy grin. "Shall we continue?"

Despite the Hunter feeling like he'd seen too much already, he nodded anyway. "Sure."

-Scene Change-

The two had found themselves in front of another door that led to a room of one of the staff. This time, the Hunter had the same…feeling he'd had whenever he'd passed by sweet Arianna, regardless of her career. He missed her dearly, even now. Alastor noticed his expression, yet he couldn't care less. "Now, this room belongs to a certain individual you already know by now."

The Radio Demon was about to knock when, all of a sudden, the door opened, and something exited the room to stare at the two. In an instant, the Hunter's blood ran cold. The horror of horrors had found him, and now his fate was sealed. What looked at the two was a small pig, who, curious about the newcomer, trotted up to give them a sniff. The Hunter's body began to tense, the Maneater boar was bearing down on him, he had no time to run, he couldn't dodge, he was going to have to endure the blow and hopefully-

"Fat Nuggets, don't run off!"

The Maneat- no, the small, non threatening pig was picked up by its owner, a six armed spider wearing even less than the other two he had seen. However, he was, unfortunately, accustomed to the sight of Angel's skin, so it had little effect aside from snapping him out of his delirium.

"You know you shouldn't just go and stare at..." Angel looked to see who the pig was looking at. His expression immediately changed, from fussy to devious. "Oh, heya Hunter. I didn't expect you to be standing at my doorstep." Leaning against the doorframe, trying to look sexy with a small, chunky pig in his hands, "Unless you're here for m-"

"The Radio Demon was just giving me a look around the hotel." The Hunter told him with a hard expression, his eyes fixed on the pig for some reason. "Is that thing your pet?"

The pornstar blinked at his words before he looked down to the pig that he had in his arms. "You mean Fat Nuggets? Yeah, I've had him for years." He noticed the Hunter was still glaring daggers at the pig, who began to huff at his owner. Angel looked at him with an unimpressed look. "Can you stop staring at my pet like that? You're scaring him. And it's not a thing. It's a pig." Seriously, why did he hate pigs of all things? Pigs made great pets! And bacon, but Nuggets didn't need to know that.

The Hunter realised what he was doing, and closed his eyes for a moment, to get the memories out of his head. He opened them and looked back at Angel Dust with a surprisingly remorseful look. "Apologies, I didn't mean to scare your pet like that. I have…bad memories with pigs."

"Same here, I was still alive and wounded when they started eating me!" Alastor said gleefully. Angel and Hunter, of course, ignored him entirely.

"May we please return to the matter at hand?" The Hunter demanded, though his stoic expression had slight cracks, exasperation seeping through. He didn't want to discuss that topic any longer, and he did not want to talk about pigs.

The two glanced at the man, annoyed he had stopped their fun. They knew that something had troubled him, but they didn't really care. It may be personal, and neither were willing to find out what the Hunter considered a warning. The Radio Demon chuckled, now knowing a weakness. Maybe. Pigs weren't exactly easy to work with, after all. Bad memories for him as well. "It seems like I made you uncomfortable, my dear Hunter. My most sincere apologies." The Hunter didn't respond, knowing the Radio demon was, aptly, 'full of shit'. "But as I was going to say, this is the domicile of Angel Dust."

The Hunter was both grossed out and not surprised by what Angel Dust's room looked like. Despite having a vanity, mirror, a place to put multiple wigs and a bed, there were many questionable things scattered across it. He shifted back his attention to the pornstar. "Interesting decor."

"Yeah, I know, that's why I put it up." Angel said in agreement. "By the way, Hunter, what dirty little secrets do you have hidden in your sock drawer?"

"None, since it's unchanged from when I arrived. Plain and simple," The Hunter responded with honesty. "I have little plan of actually changing it."

The pornstar was about to reply when Alastor barged in again. "I sincerely apologize, my feminine fellow and new member. I'm afraid we have to move on now. Work starts soon, and we haven't even covered all the rooms within this hotel. I don't want our new member to be confused on his first day." He gestured his microphone stick to the Hunter, who didn't react.

"Oh, don't sweat it," Angel said, heading back to his room. As he turned to close the door, he looked the Hunter in the eyes. "Feel free to talk to me whenever you want." He gave a flirtatious wink at him.

The Hunter didn't care. "Sure."

The pornstar slumped his shoulders and gave a tired look to the Hunter. "Is that how you respond to everyone?"

"Yes." He answered.

Angel sighed at the man's response, then chuckled. 'Never change, you crazy creature.'

"Anyway, I'll be taking him to one more location before everyone meets in the main lounge." The Radio Demon spoke as he put his hand on the door.

Angel looks at the two once more, a look of confusion morphing into worry. "Wait, does that mean that I—" And the door slammed shut, cutting the pornstar off from finishing what he was about to say.

Now with that out of the way, Alastor looked back at the Hunter. "Now then, shall we get going, my silent fellow?" The Hunter nodded his head, making the Radio demon walk on ahead to the last location.

-Scene Change-

An old door knob, completely different from the others, smoothly turned as Alastor opened the door to his room. He moved out of the way, and mockingly bowed to his guest. "This is my room. I hope you don't mind the mess, I haven't had time to freshen up the place."

The Hunter ignored him, but he did look at the room. Red wallpaper with french crosses dotted in black, a lavish study complete with red furnishings. The other half was…a swamp. There were reeds up to his waist, alongside a old, twisted willow that touched the ceiling with high branches, long wispy leaves reaching down to head height, and strange insects darting across the surface of the water.

After analysing the room, he looked back at Alastor. "Tasteful decor."

"Yes," The Radio Demon replied, humming a mid-pitch radio tone. "It was incredibly tricky to get the perfect temperature for the reeds to thrive while also keeping the wallpaper from becoming damp, but I made some alterations to make it happen."

"Is that so?" The Hunter hummed, not interested in the Sinner's gardening in the slightest. He continued to gaze at the other side of the room, into the placid, murky waters. "This fits you." He did not care to elaborate on how a literal swamp fitted Alastor.

"Indeed it does, Hunter." The Radio Demon brushing off the other man's words. He didn't care if the Hunter was apathetic to his efforts, it had taken time and effort to make this room a reality. He put his free hand in his blazer pocket, and pulled his pocket watch to read the time. Still early, but he had a few more minutes to spare. "Ah, we still have a bit of time left."

"For what?" The Hunter questioned, starting to lose interest. He had seen all there was currently available, after all. What more was there to show?

"For you to spend that bit of time however you please, although hopefully not all in one place." Alastor responded, snickering at his little joke. "Knowing you however, feel free to sullenly stare at the wall in the main lounge while I gather the others to prepare for their jobs. How does that sound to you?"

The Hunter didn't sullenly stare, he mysteriously gazed. There was a substantial difference, after all. Instead of biting back, he did admit this half-hour of sociality was too much for a single morning. Some personal time would be well within reason. Perhaps getting acquainted with his new to- weapon could be done in the time he had left. "Very well, I shall see you then."

The Hunter broke from the incredibly annoying social interaction, towards the central area. Once he was out of sight, the Radio Demon huffed unamused despite having that broad smile on his face. 'Not a single crack in that stony face, not a single bit of worry. I have to up my game, I can't let him take my crown. Whatever, his attitude will change once Charlie really gets her claws in him.' He chuckled to himself, knowing that their newest guest wouldn't survive Charlie's unbending determination without a few scratches. Oh, he couldn't wait.

-Scene Change-

The main lobby was silent, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the scratching of a fountain pen on coarse paper. Seated on one of the couches, the Hunter wrote in his journal, jotting down his notes on the day so far. While initially a pain, Alastor's tour had provided something he would never decline: Information. He now knew some of the more complicated hallways, and was writing a map on one of the pages opposite the page detailing the Hotel's function, current staff, and size. This was a useful habit, having prevented him from becoming lost in the dark catacombs or the dank sewers he had waded through. What was also useful was detailing each individual's room of choice, since their chosen surroundings dictate the constitution of their heart. For instance, he noticed that while Charlie's room had a lot of decorations and bright colors, the side that Vaggie had slept on was devoid of decorations, spartan save for a few weapons within easy reach. Charlie's young heart contrasted with Vaggie's soldier mentality, yet coexisted in the middle, with a strange painting of a fire-breathing unicorn directly above the bed. He already knew of Angel's character, but the needles that most could not see hidden underneath the bed confirming the suspicions he'd had for a long while. His…'friend' was having substance issues, likely as a result of his work. Alastor's room was a much more interesting conundrum, however. While the swamp was definitely strange, what was no less strange was the preservation of the other side. Nothing was touched, nothing was used, it was like he had it just for show. The swamp, however, was much more 'lived in', with footprints and marks on the tree. He had spied a hammock high in the branches, and a small, unlit lantern hanging beside it. Alastor's act as a man of class was merely that: an act. He was much more familiar with his old life's trappings, and didn't seem keen on forgetting.

As the Hunter was finishing the last paragraph detailing Alastor's lack of taste (The books on the shelf were fake, and he'd bet money on it), he was interrupted by one of the members he hadn't greeted yet. "Whatcha writing in there?"

The Hunter paused writing in his journal, and looked at his side to see Niffty peeking out from one of the cushions of the couch. He closed the notebook and pocketed it with his old ink pen back into his deep inner pocket. "Just my thoughts, Niffty."

"OOOOO! What kind of thoughts? How to kill someone with a toothpick? How to skin a man with a cheese grater? How many people it takes to clog a meat grinder?" Niffy can't help but ask out of curiosity (and mild bloodlust).

"Nothing important really, just some things I wish to be kept private." The Hunter responded bluntly, though he didn't want to appear rude.

Niffty was slightly disappointed, but wasn't done yet. "Have you managed to kill anyone recently? I want some pointers from the best!"

"Maybe," He responded half-honestly, not wanting to go further. The cyclops demon behind him was starting to eye something on his back with a concerning level of intrigue. "What is it?"

"That." She responded, pointing at his Saw Cleaver slung onto his back, the angelic edge glinting in the light. "That looks like it can kill a lot of people really painfully! Can I hold it!?" She had the enthusiasm of a child for handling one of the deadliest weapons in his arsenal, her eyes shining with its reflection.

"No." The Hunter wasn't taking any chances.

"Ah, why not?" She asked, like a child told it couldn't have sweets before supper.

"That blade is a hazardous tool, and I don't want any accidents to happen because of it." He explained. He didn't want her to nick her finger on the edge, he didn't know how she'd react.

"But I like dangerous," she whined. "Can at least touch it, please?"

"No means no, Niffty." He responded, as stern as he could.

"Pretty please?" Niffy begged, her puppy eye in full effect.

Now, the Hunter was a strong man, and was aware of the danger his weapons presented to any that didn't understand them. Mostly, he was cautious of his weapon falling into the wrong hands due to its new form. Especially since it sometimes acts on its own, like it could think for itself. But, strong as he was, and cautious he may be, he was weak to the begging eye of the demon before him. After a long pause, a sigh escaped his lips as he unslung the Saw Cleaver from his back, and handed it to her handle first. "Fine. But don't hold it for long, don't swing it around, and don't touch the edge."

Niffty didn't seem to care about his warning. All she wanted was to hold that brutal, beautiful weapon with her own two hands. "Just gimme!" The Hunter sighed as the Saw Cleaver was taken from him, the excited midget more ecstatic than a child on Christmas. Despite the Saw Cleaver being the same size as her, she lifted it like it weighed nothing, and greedily drank in its appearance. "Ooooh! Now, this is something! There's so many things I could kill with this!" She spoke with glee when all of a sudden…

'Beast! FOUL BEAST!'

'CURSED BEAST!'

'…Beasts all over the shop…'

'Our eyes are yet to open...'

'…Fear the Old Blood…'

'Ooh! Majestic! A hunter is a hunter, even in a dream.'

'A great terror looms!'

'A corpse…should be left well alone.'

Blood, terror, death. This was all she could see, smell and hear. It was everywhere, it was nowhere. She felt herself dying a thousand gruesome deaths, each more bloody than the last. Blood made her, blood coated her, and blood ended her. As she stared deeper into the bloody reflection, it started to look back, impressed by her fortitude. It told her what it wanted, what it needed. It wanted carnage, death, it was never enough, the blood thirsted evermore, for blood sweet and bitter, for gore that spattered and spurted, for bones that grinded and crunched, for blood holy and unholy, for death that rent flesh and soul, for pain that burned and pain that cut, for no blood was ever enough. It demanded MORE.

And Niffty… was in heaven.

"I am taking this back." The Hunter snatched his Saw Cleaver from her stiff, frozen fingers and slung it back onto his back. He looked back at Niffty, who was staring into space, drool leaking from her lips. His heart beat fast, fearing that the blade had broken her somehow. Had he doomed another soul with his foolishness alone? "Dammit! I should have resisted! Will she ever wake?!"

"Hunter…" He was broken out of his thoughts as he snapped at Niffty. He was taken aback as he saw her face not marred with grief or horror. She was…smiling? Her breathing was getting heavy, and her face was flushed red, had she become ill? "Can I do that again?"

His heart settled, knowing she was alright, if only barely. After a few seconds, he managed to calm himself, shaking his head. "Are you okay?" He asked, concerned for her mental being

Niffty nodded, dazed, still flushed red in the face. "Yeah, I'm…I'm fine. I just… I'm gonna go to my room for a bit." The Hunter was utterly caught off by this, as the small Sinner got up and started walking to her room, her hands balled into her skirt and her breathing still heavy.

'Is she going to be alright? Maybe I should… No, she'll probably be fine.' He didn't know what had happened to her, but-

Footsteps on the staircase, the others had arrived. Nifty could wait.

"Ah. It's good you arrived here on time, Hunter!" Charlie greeted him warmly.

"I do my best to do so," The Hunter admitted, getting his mind off of the tiny maid.

When Vaggie entered the room, she immediately noticed the Hunter's weapon attached to his back. "Hey Hunter, is that by any chance a weapon?" She asked, knowing what the answer was gonna be.

"Yes," The Hunter responded.

'Gotcha bitchass' "Sorry to say, but unless you're me, no visible weapons are permitted in the main lobby." She pointed off to the side, where a sign of simple rules hung. 'Unless you're a staff member, no fucking in the lobby, no killing in the lobby, and no visible weapons in the lobby.'

"Vaggie, it's his first day here, don't be so harsh on him," Charlie chided her girlfriend. "He gets a few days to get his bearings, so give him some slack please?" Puppy eyes again, Vaggie's 0-2 now.

She couldn't say no dammit. "Fine, I concede. As for you..." She glared at the Hunter. "You're lucky that this is your first day, so you get off scot-free for now. But, if I ever see anything bigger than a knife on you again... you know what, forget it. You'll probably find some bullshit loophole anyway. You can keep them for now, but if you ever bring harm to anyone here." Instead of saying anything, she lifted her spear and tapped it on the ground, making it ring. "Do I make myself clear?" She warned him, a bitter look in her eye.

"Noted," He nodded his head nonchalantly.

Charlie clapped her hands, and the two turned their attention to her, breaking the tension. "Alright, alright. Let's not get into an argument here." She focused on the Hunter. "Now, from this day, you are officially a guest of the Hazbin Hotel! Welcome to your new home, Hunter!" For some reason, the Hunter felt an odd warmth spread throughout his body upon her proclamation. He couldn't place it, but it felt strange.

Charlie and her friends were friendly to him. All except for Alastor and Vaggie, but that's besides the point. From this day forward, he would seek redemption, no matter how naive it may seem.

The Doll had never led him astray, so he would do as she said to. Hopefully, it will end better than other things have.

It's official. The Hunter is now a guest of the Hazbin Hotel. But it seems like he has some unresolved trauma that is affecting him. I wonder how he would fair without his trauma playing up.

This is why he starts writing his thoughts on a journal he kept ever since the events of The Night of the Hunt. You can thank Mugiwara N0 Luffy's The Gunslinger for inspiring me to execute that concept. That way, it makes a ruthless killer like the Hunter be more human.

Hopefully, he would take the Doll's advice and start warming up to them. Even towards Alastor though he has to be cautious about it.

Sorry if there were any Out Of Character Moments or any lore I fucked up, but I want to satisfy those who wants to read it by making a chapter the best I could while checking for any errors. Please feel free to slap my ass and call me Sally.

NN: I'm fighting the Texas power grid to get these edits to you, so you best enjoy this steaming slop we worked so hard on.

See ya all in the next chapter, motherfuckers!

Chapter 5: Making a Commercial

I am back baby! And there is a lot to unpack!

First off, HOLY sweet mother of Nevada! A Hunter’s Guide for Running a Hotel now as over a hundred followers and favourites! Thank you, THANK YOU SO MUCH! This means a lot to me considering that I took the opportunity to be the first (at least I hope so) to write a Bloodborne and Hazbin Hotel crossover. Now I am thinking of doing something once this reaches over the three hundred marks.

Be patient, I’m not going to risk anything just yet.

I apologise if I was a dick. That always happens to me whenever I get criticised. So, without going on a rambling, I decided to take a week off from writing fanfiction and rewrote some bits of the chapter I had just wrote. I do hope you understand.

And also, how I already fucked the lore by going to the typical Fanfiction route without knowing. God, what have I done? Well, at least I may have a solution.

Anyway, let’s begin the story.

Word of warning: This fanfic will contain graphic violence, strong languages, sexual themes, mentions of suicide and self-harm and things against with every Religion. Viewer discretion is advised because its FREAKING Hazbin Hotel and Bloodborne. There will also be lyrics from songs that are ONLY used a little bit or are parody versions of it to avoid copyright.

A Hunter’s guide for Running a Hotel

V

Making a Commercial

"Well, hello there, you wayward Sinner! Do you like blood, violence, and depravity of a sexual nature? Of course, you do; that's why you're in Hell! But what would you say if I told you there was a place to stay that had none of that? Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, a misguided path to redemption! Founded five days ago by Lucifer's delusional daughter, Charlotte Morningstar!"

"Come place your fate in her inexperienced hands as she tries to work through her daddy issues by fixing you! Here, we offer fun things like functional staff and 24-hour pest control. Custom rooms, and just look at this tacky parlour! Enjoy riveting conversation with our singular resident. Wow! All this and more at the Hazbin Hotel! Your last desperate attempt at salvation starts here!"

The TV was turned off, and Alastor looked at Vaggie and Charlie, who sat on the couch. "So, what do you think?" He asked.

The two were silent as they were surprised at how the commercial had been poorly misleading and offensive to their ideas. This caused Vaggie to shout at the Radio Demon. "I'm sorry. What the fuck was that?"

Charlie had to add her own thoughts along the way. "Uh, Yeah. One note, Alastor, I mean, thank you so much for making this seriously amazing, but maybe the tone is a bit off. We want people to want to come here. This makes it look, um..."

"bad." Her girlfriend finished with a blunt tone. "The word you're looking for is bad."

"Funny. I was going for hilarious." Alastor commented.

"It didn't explain anything about how we're trying to save demons from extermination," Vaggie reminded him, "which is the whole fucking point."

For once, her girlfriend agreed with her. "Vaggie is right, Alastor. The commercial lets sinners know we are trying to help them."

The Princess had a point. That commercial was off-putting. "Well, my dear, I haven't been active in hell for some time, and everyone remembers me from my radio show, the proper medium to express oneself." The Radio Demon admitted. "But you insisted on this noisy picture box advertisement." He taps the television twice with his Microphone staff. "So, I had a little fun with it."

Vaggie needed to find out if those were the right words to say. "Oh, fun? You had a little fun with it?" She stood up and glared at him. "Well, this is not what we want to represent us. When you showed up here a week ago, you told us you would help run this hotel. Instead, you're mocking us. Nobody's gonna wanna come to a place that a powerful overlord like you thinks is a waste of time." She glanced at the side to see someone putting their hand up, which caught her and everyone's attention. "What?" She asked.

"If you're filming a commercial, can I suggest you take better advantage of the talented celebrity you have right here?" Angel suggested as he took a bottle with one arm before pointing all three arms at himself.

Though that seemed a good option, the one girl didn't like it. "Angel, you're a porn star." She reminded him.

"A famous porn star," He clarified with confidence, "I'll have the horniest sinners knocking these walls down to get in."

"We are not filming a porn as a commercial." She told him.

"Why not? Sex sells, doesn't it? If you film me going at it with Mr. Fancy Talk's creepy voice here, you'd be rolling in participants willing to stay at this tacky hotel." He commented before looking to see the new member to ask his opinion. "What ya say, Hunter?"

The Good Hunter stared at him with a deadpan look in his red eyes despite the tricorn and mouth cloth covering most of his face. "She is right, Angel. We are not going to film one because this is a place for rehabilitation, not for debauchery."

This caused the one-eyed girl to look at him with a disappointing look. "See. Even the Hunter disagrees."

The porn star groaned at Hunter's blunt words. "Oh, come on, Hunter! This body was made to be exploited. I got the arms, I got the stamina, I got the legs. I got the lung capacity." He laughed at hearing his own words. "Oh, I got the legs. The gag reflex, the holes, the chest fluff everyone thinks are ti—"

"That's enough!" The Hunter warned Angel with a stern tone, causing Charlie to be startled at his tone. "This is a place where people seek redemption. Bring that in here, and this place will lose its purpose." 

Upon hearing his words, Angel decided to be playful. "Ooooh! We got a feisty one here!"

The Hunter was irritated at the demon's words and wanted to hit him. This thought caused him to curl his right hand to a fist, which Charlie immediately noticed. She clapped her hands to grab the two’s attention. “Alright, let’s not start a fight here. This place is meant to repair people’s faith on redemption, not the other way round.”

As soon as she said that the Hunter slumped his shoulders in relaxation. He’d felt bad for almost lashing out at Angel, who seemingly tried to provoke him with a playful manner. “Sorry. It seems like my anger got the better of me.” He shot a quick glare at Angel, who seemed to playfully smirk at his anger.

Seeing the tension dying down, Charlie can’t help but to release a sigh of relief. Though, right as he saw about to respond, her phone suddenly rings. This made her pull out the device and looked who had called her. She immediately looked at everyone. “Hold that thought! I'll be right back.” She immediately picked up the phone and walked away to talk to the person calling her. “Hello? Dad?”

As the Princess of Hell was talking on the phone, the rest stayed in the lounge when one of them decided to ask the Radio Demon something. “Hey, I have a question. If freaky face over there is so powerful, then why can't he just make people stay here?”

“Oh, trust me…” Alastor said as he smiled with a mischievously, creepy look with dark magic emitting. “I can.”

“Why do you think I'm here?” Husk asked from the bar. “You actually think I'd be cleaning bottles and listening to you fucks bitch and moan all the time if he wasn't forcing me?”

As he cleaned a bottle, Niffty pops up from behind the counter and had a hand raised. “I like being forced.”

“Keep that to yourself, Niff.” He coldly reminded her.

Angel can’t believe the attitude of the bartender. He looked at the other man. “What? You don't love being here with me, Whiskers?”

The bartender took offensive of that nickname. “Call me Whiskers again and I'll jam that bottle down your throat.” He pointed at the bottle that Angel held.

Just like the Hunter before, the porn star decided to be playful. “Kinky. Come on, keep talking dirty.”

Vaggie sighed at the sight as is currently witness sing. She thought to break it up just like Charlien did before. “Angel. Let Husk do his job. And, no, we can't force sinners to stay here. They need to choose to.”

“I'm choosing to be here, and I think it's all stupid.” Angel said. “We're in hell, toots. That's kind of the end.”

“Well, Maybe it doesn't have to be. Just because nobody has made it out before doesn't mean it's not possible.” She remarked.

This causes the porn star to place a hand on his co-worker’s shoulder and gave her a deadpan look. Vaggie gave the same facial expression. The Hunter watched this from the sideline and can’t help himself but to shake his head. This wasn’t the way of how his first day would go out. He’d rather be roaming around Hell and doing odd jobs. Though, it only has been an hour since his shift started. “Yes…YES!” He turned around to look at Charlie, who giggled in excitement for some reason before calling her girlfriend in gibberish, which freaked her out. “Vaggie! Holy, shit!”

“Ah! what?” Vaggie asked.

It seemed as though Charlie got too excited for some reason and excitedly mumbled, “Get over here!”

Vaggie happily sighs and goes over to where Charlie is, who seemed up be acting like a child by jumping out and down. As soon as she got closer to her girlfriend, she immediately asked, “What's going on?”

Charlie breathes in and out to calm her nerves so she can explain. But she was doing it so fast due to her excitement. For the Hunter, he can clearly hear what she is saying. “My dad just called; he said that the leader of the Angel Army wants to meet. He asked if I could go instead.”

She begins to hyperventilate and grabs her girlfriend to get up close. Speaking of the other girl, she was left confused to what she heard. “But-but the Extermination just happened two days ago. What could they want this soon after—”

Her words fell on deaf ears as Charlie is in a happy mood to get her hotel project to work and remains hopeful that she literally started to sing.

Insert Hazbin Hotel OST: Happy Day in Hell

I can do this! Somehow, I know it!

I'll get Heaven behind my plans.

While the Princess of Hell sung, Vaggie tried to get her attention. “Charlie, hold on…”

There's just no way I could blow it.

Not this once-in-a-lifetime chance! 

“It’s just a meeting.” Her girlfriend tried to call out but to no avail.

To change their minds

And touch their hearts

Or... whatever angels have! 

Upon hearing that, Vaggie can’t help but to voice her concern. “This could be bad…” Charlie grabbed her by the hands and starts to spin around with.

Cheer up, Vaggie!

This could be swell!

Something tells me that today will be a happy day in Hell! 

Charlie let go of her girlfriend, who was sent tumbling backwards with the set of stairs behind her. She stopped herself from falling to what was behind her and immediately pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, but just don't... sing to them.”

Despite her warning, Angel, Alastor, Niffty, and the cyclops-like cat Keekee were already at the window. They can see their Manager singing out in the destroyed Pentagram City. The porn star looked back at Vaggie as he informed her to where Charlie is. “That bitch is halfway down the street!”

“Is she—?” Vaggie was about to ask.

“Oh, she's dancin'!” He immediately informed her before putting the alcohol bottle near his mouth.

All Vaggie could do now is to groan. “Ugh, no…” All the while, the Hunter just rolled his eyes as he never expected this to occur. Then again, the Princess of Hell is known for singing when it is at random, or it may be during the important day.

Hazbin Hotel OST ends

-Scene Change-

The Hunter did not expect to be immediately called into the main longue with the others by Vaggie to discuss their poorly misleading commercial. He saw that Angel constantly looked at Husk with a seductive gaze while the Bartender glared daggers at him, to which he had no reaction. His attention focused on the one-eyed girl, who had been pacing in front of them. "Okay, so Charlie is dealing with something very important, so while she's gone, we are making a new commercial. One that represents her vision and what we're doing here. So, we need a camera." She turns towards where the Radio Demon sat. "Alastor?"

The Overlord snapped his fingers to conjure up a camera for Vaggie. However, it seemed like an old folding-type camera from at least a hundred years ago that could not record anything. This didn't amuse her as she looked at him. "A video camera?"

"Hmmm." He hummed before clicking his fingers again. The device on her hand conjured up a modern video camera that had been poorly used with pieces of tape stuck together.

Still, this managed to satisfy the one-eyed manager. "Alright! Let's do this!"

As Vaggie started recording for the commercial, the Hunter patiently waited for his turn while he leaned on the wall to see the interior of the main room. He had his journal on him and drew every detail he could see on two empty pages. It seemed flawless in a way that had little to no mistakes made. Too bad the sound of horny moaning coming from the bar caused him to stop drawing. He glanced at the source of the sound and already knew who had done it while being recorded. "Oh, yes!"

This caused Vaggie to stop shooting. "Cut!" She put the camera down and looked towards both Angel and Husk. "Okay, Angel, I need you to be less horny if possible, and Husk, can you maybe not have a script in front of your face."

"I ain't no actor!" The Bartender pointed out with a lace of anger in his voice. "I can't memorize this shit!"

"Well, we could improve this shit, baby cakes," Angel spoke as he got closer to the cat-like demon's face before purring in a rather seductive way.

This causes Husk to get irritated and shove his co-worker painfully hard out of the counter. He'd looked at Angel with an apathetically look on his face. "Whoops." He muttered sarcastically before grabbing a bottle from the counter and drinking it.

"Husk, come on," Vaggie spoke to her co-worker, wanting to get the commercial sorted.

"How about you do the Hunter first?" Husk questioned after taking a drink from his alcohol bottle.

She was about to respond when she had a thought to what he said. The New Member has yet to do much so far, and this would be the first task he could be doing. "Fine, I'll do him first. But once I finish with him, ensure you have read your script." With that thought, she turned around and walked away from the bar to where he stood. "Hunter." 

Said individual looked at her. "Yes?"

He saw her handing over a paper with words on it. "Read what's on the paper. Once you do, please say it in front of the camera."

The Hunter took the paper off from her and began reading it. Not a single second went by before he gave it to her. "Here you go."

Vaggie was caught off guard by how quick the Hunter read it. "That fast! You sure you have definitely read it?"

"Yes," He simply responded.

The one-eyed woman was uncertain about his statement. However, his tone convinced her to start recording. "Alright then. When I point the camera at you, just say your line." She told him, and he nodded. In one instance, she pointed the camera at the camera and started recording. "And Action!"

As the camera was pointed at him, the Hunter knew what to exactly say. Despite being apathetic to all of this, he knew he had to slightly shift his tone to do this task. He can already tell that Vaggie won't be impressed by this. "We can also provide you any necessary needs during your stay."

"And stop!" Vaggie stopped recording and put the camera down. She looked at him, surprised at how flawlessly he had done his line and how he managed to do it in one take. "I have to say, you managed to say that all in one go."

"I was only doing what I was tasked with," The Hunter simply responded as he shifted back to that apathetic tone.

This didn’t make the girl be displease by this. “Still, you actually did you part. Now, it’s others to do their part.” She’s only hope that it would go well as she had intended. Charlie is currently in a meeting with Heaven right know and she will try everything in her position to make it the way it had been intended.

-Scene Change-

After Vaggie managed to record all of the members doing their part, she saw down on a seat in front of a broken TV, which was the only source of light in the room. She groaned in frustration as everyone, except for the newest member, had messed up the script or, in Niffty's case, just stared at the camera. She didn't seem to notice a particular individual entering the room. "Seems like you're having some trouble there, hmm?"

She let out a sigh upon hearing Alastor's voice. She wasn't in a good mood to speak to him. "Ugh, este pendejo…" She turned to face him. "Why are you even here?"

"For the entertainment." He simply responded as he took a seat next to her. His shadow slips out of his form before reappearing behind the couch, making laughing gestures. "I came here because I love seeing wasteful souls struggle to accomplish something meaningful and…" The shadow disappears, "fail spectacularly like you are doing now. Good job!"

Now Vaggie got ticked off by the Radio Demon's carefree insult. She stood up with the camera in hand and pointed it at him. "And here is Alastor, the egocentric piece of shit that—" The video camera glitches violently from green to red, causing her to freak out and drop it that was now static onto the ground. "UGH!"

"I wouldn't try that, my dear." He told her while pointing at his face. "This face was made for radio." His pupils turn into the shape of radio dials, and the surroundings go nearly static before it fixes itself back to normal onto Vaggie.

Said individual had enough of his insults and began to walk up to him. "That's it. I don't care who or what you are. If you're staying here, you're going to make this work because it won't be so "entertaining"," She imitated his voice before shifting back to her normal voice, "to watch over an empty hotel, will it, shitass?"

She walked back to her seat and sat down. This did stop Alastor from approaching her. "Fair enough. I'll tell you what. Let's make a deal."

Hearing this made Vaggie think about this. "Pfft, you think I'm that stupid making a deal with a demon like you?"

Alastor was clearly aware of what she said. Luckily, he had no malicious intentions planned. "Not for your soul, just a simple deal. I do this for you, and you never ask me to engage with this frivolous television technology ever again." He shifted over to Vaggie's left shoulder. "Isn't that right, hmm?"

Vaggie turned to her left to see the Hunter standing there. She was taken aback by how he managed to sneak by her without making a sound. "Hunter?! When did you get here?"

"When Alastor arrived," He replied before shifting his attention to Alastor. "This is for the commercial, right?"

"Indeed," The Radio demon replied with a broad smile before looking back at her. "What do you say? We either do it, or otherwise; Charlie gets nothing in return."

The one-eyed girl glances away briefly, thinking about what Alastor and the Hunter said. It took a few seconds to decide. "Fine." She spoke after sighing. Picking the camera from the floor, she handed the camera to Alastor with the sound of a clap.

"Now then!" Alastor spoke, snapping his fingers that transformed the hotel into an entire movie set with Ink Demons being the filming crew. The Hunter saw the other members present wearing clothing that wasn't too similar to his, except that it was a bit modern. Angel seemed flam boyish when he got into apparel, Niffty did a rather famous feminine pose, and Husk was just himself. 

For some reason, the Hunter had somehow got into clothing that were similar to them with a all-black tuxedo, a mouth cloth and a black fedora. He looked down at himself and was baffled by what had happened. “What is this?!”

“Alright everyone, “ He turned to Vaggie, who had the look of determined confidence in her eye and mouth. “…let's make a fucking commercial.” She was now in her film set attire.

…

The group begins filming in front of the hotel.

Then, it was onto the central area.

Angel Dust was the first to do his part. He manages to deliver his lines appropriately. Though he almost slipped into being honey, he was stopped when the Hunter gave him a death glare.

Next, it was Husk, who had done his part with an apathetic tone.

Niffty…she just stared at the camera.

Then, it was the Hunter’s turn. Unlike last time, he delivered with great confidence and added things Vaggie wanted him to say before she ended the commercial by asking the viewers to visit their hotel.

It seems like luck was on their side so far. Hopefully nothing would distract the commercial from being distracted.

-Scene Change-

Once the film had wrapped up, everyone was back into their regular clothes. The Hunter looked down at himself to see him back in his Hunter's attire. It felt good to be back in it as he had felt utterly naked, wearing different clothing. Still, the Hunter wondered how Alastor overcame the attire's sense by making him wear other clothing as the man was alone in another part of the area. "How did he manage to do that? I ensured anyone who touched it would drive a sane person mad." He made a note of the list of his suspicions of Alastor.

His ear picked up the doors opening, and he looked to see Charlie entering the hotel. Looking at her face, she was visibly upset about something that happened at the meeting with Heaven's Army Leader. He tilted his head as he had an obvious guess as to why she was like that. "Looks like it didn't go as she intended?"

The Hunter saw Vaggie coming into the picture and immediately hugged her. "Charlie! How did it go? Did they listen?" She asked and let go of the hug.

"Oh, they sure did hear it." Charlie sheepishly replied. "But-"

"Oh, come here; we have something exciting to show you." Vaggie interrupted as she dragged her girlfriend to where the others were. On the way, she eyed where the Hunter stood and asked, "Are you coming?"

The Hunter shook his head. "I'll be fine, thank you."

Vaggie wanted him to join. But the look in his eyes told her he wanted to be left alone. "Alright. But come join us soon after, okay." The man nodded as he gestured to urge her to take Charlie to where the others sat. When she did, she looked at her girlfriend to explain how they got on TV. "Alastor pulled some strings, and it's about to air."

"I pulled a few limbs, too, hahaha!" Alastor clarified before releasing a small laugh.

Charlie was surprised by this. "Wait, the commercial? You all made a new one?"

"Yeah, one of my better performances, if I say so myself," Angel responded while sitting in his seat.

The Princess of Hell beamed upon hearing this. "That's... that's amazing."

As much as the porn star had to silence her by putting a finger on her lips. "Sshh, it's starting."

Everyone turned to the TV and saw everyone in their film set looking at the camera. Vaggie was the first to talk. "Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel—" It was immediately interrupted mid-way when the ‘666 news' logo was seen on the TV.

This caused everyone except Alastor and Niffty to get annoyed and angrily complain. Charlie released a bit of her demonic power with horns prejudging out of the top of her head, which was immediately felt by the Hunter as he was at a distance where he could see the screen. There, he saw a familiar man in a gas mask and a woman sitting down at the news desk, and after seeing how it interrupted the commercial, he decided to listen. "Breaking news in Hell today! We have just received word from the Heaven Embassy that the next Extermination is happening sooner than ever. "Katie announced with a lace of a man's voice as she looked over to her partner. "Do you know what that means, Tom?"

"No, what does that mean, Katie?" Her reporter partner asked with sarcasm.

This caused the female reporter to twist her head to the left with each word. "It means we're all royally fucked!" Her eyes started to twitch as the screen switched to the clock tower. Sinners were heard in the background as it reduced the days when the next Extermination Day would occur.

92

Seeing the numbers on the clock tower causes some of the members to widen their eyes at this.  "Wait, what? Why?!" Of all people, Angel was the one who spoke that question aloud. Unknown to all, the Hunter looked down as he thought of the three Extermination Days that he partook in. He had a gut feeling that he was solely responsible for this but didn't want to voice it out.

Just yet.

-Scene Change-

A golden drone patrolled a desolated area of the Pride Ring when it hovered above a headless Exorcist before being scanned. The photo was uploaded into a projectile where two figures could see it projecting onto the screen. One was a female from the Exorcist outfit she wore despite the blood stains, while the other dawned on a white and gold robe with a mask with longer, smoother horns and a golden ornamental attachment on the tip.

"We found the body, sir." Lute told her commander. "They've never managed to kill one of us before. Not to mention that two hundred had disappeared this year, making a total of six hundred without a trace. We should just go down there now and destroy them while executing the one who keeps making us disappear with extreme prejudice!"

Hearing the immense anger in her tone, Adam put his hands up in assurance. "No, no. We can't risk them catching on. But don't worry, when we return, a demon won't be left alive to pull a stunt like this again! That includes the individual." He remembered how all of this started.

Three years ago, after mutilating and banishing one of his top soldiers for sparring a demon child, two hundred disappeared without a trace. He remembered his lieutenant getting angry about how many Exorcists vanished and wanted to move it to six months. However, Heaven disapproved of it as it would only wage war in Hell, which would cause a massive scandal with its government.

In retaliation, the Exorcists became more merciless and brutal as they managed to kill more Sinners on the next Extermination Day. However, that only caused two hundred more to disappear with no signs of the bodies and weapons.

This only caused more scrutiny in Heaven as more Angels joined the Exorcists to refill their ranks. And though they managed to kill ten times this year, only two hundred were missing. Adam had negotiated with Heaven, and they agreed that they were going to reduce it to three months rather than six months to utterly destroy Hell for causing a thousand of their kind to be gone.

Whoever this person was, Adam knew it couldn't be someone who was a sinner. An outside force who is merciless, ruthless, and calculated to pull something like that. When he or she were found, he would like to offer him a place in his ranks, which Lute had absolutely disagreed with before she begrudgingly changed her mind, as that would mean fewer Exorcists dying.

These thoughts caused him to pound the projector, causing the room to go into complete darkness. The only light source that remained was his mask, which glowed an evil smile.

Remember what I said about fucking the lore? Here it is.

I also discussed it on a forum, which explained how the Hunter’s action would actually lead to an all-out catalyst event. But hey, it’s fanfiction where people tend to fuck every lore up.

Anyway, it seems like the Hunter’s killing of a thousand Exorcists had only reduced the next extermination day to three months, making it a canon divergence from the original.

It seems like he needs to talk to the Doll now regarding his actions.

Sorry if there were any Out Of Character Moments or any lore I fucked up, but I want to satisfy those who wants to read it by making a chapter the best I could while checking for any errors. Please feel free to give me a constructive criticism to make further improvements.

See ya all in the next chapter, mother—

???: Hello!

Wah! What the-CABOOSE!? The hell you’re doing here?!

Caboose: Oh me, well I went through a door and ended up in here. Weren’t you going to make an announcement. Like, in case this Bleedbon fan ficy is not going to work?

*Sigh* Fine, I’ll be making an announcement.

*Clears throat*

So, I made a backup plan in case this Bloodborne/Hazbin Hotel will be fucked up, which it will not happen, I want to introduce it. Caboose's Guide to be in Hell.

Caboose: Yes. I cannot wait to see all of you in my adventures with Charlotte Mobinstern and Bing!

It’s Charlie Morningstar and Blitz, you idiot!

Caboose: Yeah, I was referring to them. Which reminds me, are you going to introduce—

DON’T SPOIL IT!

Caboose: But you did mention it to a handful of people?

*Sigh* You know what, I’ll end it here. I’ll see you all in the next chapter.

Chapter 6: Becoming the First Hunter

So, this chapter will be extremely short because it's only going to be focusing on the Hunter's reflection of his unintentional consequence of his killings of a thousand Exorcists.

Yeah, I fucked up the lore. But as some people said, as quoted by HalfWitHillbilly, " you did what you could with the knowledge you have. Many fics out there have completely detached from the main source yet are still pretty good. It's all on what you yourself believe would be the best for your story. And if a few people disagree, incredibly rudely? Fuck em, they ain't writing the story, you are. It's all on you."

Him, along with jousemode, Imaginary Guy 117, Librarian343, ricky117, Ishouldbeworkingnow, lovedalton, Hi22485, RomanWolfEater, triscythe59, and Khristopher Blade. You guys/gals have inspired me to continue.

One more thing to note is that this fanfiction will only be focusing on the Hazbin Hotel part. So, if some or most of you are expecting "Helluva Boss" then no it won't be here. It'll be on my new fanfiction, Cabooose's Guide to make Friends in Hell, which is a three crossover with Red vs Blue and the mentioned two series before.

Now then, onto the chapter.

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

VI

Becoming the First Hunter

Ninety-two Days until the Next Extermination

The Hunter opened the doors to the workshop in the Hunter's Dream and saw the Doll wiping the altar to get rid of dust. He stood there until she noticed him standing in the doorway. His friend turned to him. "Welcome home, Good Hunter."

"It's good to see you again, friend," He spoke. "But I am not here to rest." He started to walk over to her. "I am here as I need a word of advice."

"Anything I can give you," She spoke as the Hunter stood when he was near her. "What advice do you need?"

"What do you do when an entire civilisation is doomed because of your actions?" The Hunter asked suddenly.

The Doll hummed at his words. By hearing his voice, she could tell that it was urgent. "Why are you asking me?"

"Remember what you said about how 'killings never go unnoticed'?" The Good Hunter reminded her, to which she nodded. "I fear as though I have just doomed the entirety of Hell because of me killing a thousand Exorcists in three years."

"Ah, is that why you asked me that question, Good Hunter?" The Doll questioned him with a bland tone.

The Hunter looked at her, and his red eyes confirmed it. "Yes. Although it going to satiate my yearning for blood and the Thrill of the Hunt, I completely disregarded the safety of the people of Hell. Now, they will do another Extermination day in three months." He let out a solemn sigh. "I'm always causing problems because of my nature." He bitterly remarked.

The Plain Doll could hear the remorse in his tone. She can tell he had already reflected on his actions during his three years in Hell. Despite being so harsh and formidable, she knew that deep down, he felt guilty for dooming an entire nation. Even if it was unintentional. She placed a hand on his hands and gently held them. "You carry a lot of burdens over your shoulder, Good Hunter. Are you going to fight for the people of Hell to make amends for your actions?"

"If I can find another purpose other than making more tension between Heaven and Hell that will lead to an all-out Genocide, then I will." The Hunter confirmed. "I am willing to give my life even if I protect those who did bad things."

His smile gave him a small smile. Seeing him determined to fix the problem he caused made the Doll want to support him unconditionally. "If you are willing to protect Hell from the Exorcists, then you shall take up Gehrman's mantle. As the First Hunter."

The Hunter looked at her upon hearing what she said. That title symbolises a Hunter who taught those under their guidance everything they knew. Gehrman was the first, and after the Hunter slayed him to set him free from this Dream, the end of the Last Night of the Hunt. Now, he is up against the Forces of Heaven that would only kill all the people of Hell because of his actions. Knowing this, he'd only look up to Charlie Morningstar for advice.

He looked back at the plain Doll. "Do I use my full strength to protect them?"

"You may have to whenever it doesn't go how you intend." His friend advised him.

The Hunter was delighted to hear the Doll's statement. He gently freed his hands from her grasp and touched her right shoulder. "Thank you once again for your advice, my friend. I must return to the waking world."

He put his hand down and turned to the open doorway. He started to walk out and headed back, but only after stopping when he glanced at the Doll again. "You should visit me in the Hazbin Hotel at some point. I think they'll be happy to meet someone like you."

The Doll gently chuckled at his comment. "If that is what you wished." The Hunter exited from the workshop and into the waking world.

Hope you guys enjoy it.

And it looks like the Good Hunter is now officially taking the Mantle of the First Hunter? I wonder how that goes?

Sorry if there were any Out Of Character Moments or any lore I fucked up, but I want to satisfy those who wants to read it by making a chapter the best I could while checking for any errors. Please feel free to give me a constructive criticism to make further improvements.

If there's any suggestion, then please feel free to put it down below.

See ya all in the next chapter, motherfuckers!

Chapter 7: Suspicious New Client

This version will be a revamped version of the previous iteration of chapter seven. You'll see the difference.

HH: I'm being gangstalked by gnomes. I barricaded my house with pure iron bars, but if I start asking about my SSN then they've taken me.

CS: Too bad they're not the gnomes that Pull his beads on Love, eh?

HH: YOU CAN'T TRICK ME I KNOW YOU'RE NOT REAL.

Alright, that was a bad joke. Let's go onto the chapter!

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

VII

Suspicious New Client

As the Hunter opened his eyes and rubbed the lingering traces of slumber from them, unnatural bones popped and creaked in unnatural ways, as an unnatural creature awoke, once again, in an unnatural land.

'A new day dawns. Or does it? Does 'dawn' truly exist in a land without sun?' As his still waking mind pondered this, he shook the thought from his head. 'Bah, save the philosophy for men with wide eyes and snuff addictions.'

Standing up from the chair he napped on, as his body contorted itself back into some semblance of a (slightly taller and more compact than usual) human's skeletal structure. 'Charlie must have returned by now. I wonder how it must be, to speak with angels as equals? Perhaps not pleasantly, the ones I've seen tend to have a temperamental side.'

Time to greet the day, the staff, and whatever humors and horrors awaited him. By the time he arrived at the main lobby, the others had already arrived, and it appeared things weren't as well as he had hoped. Everyone seemed tense, no moreso than Miss Morningstar.

Charlie paced back and forth with her cat, KeeKee walking next to her. Her troubles must have been great, her eyes were bloodshot and she was slowly pacing a hole through the plush carpet.

"Okay. So the Extermination is coming in three months instead of a year. No big deal. Just a little setback. Nothing we can't handle. Just Angels cutting our timetable to a quarter. But who needs a whole year to save souls, right?!" The Princess of Hell was, to put it bluntly, not handling it well. "And next time when they cut the time in half again, and again, we'll just handle it, right?!"

Troubled indeed.

Her girlfriend must have had enough of her downward spiral, and grabbed her on the shoulders to calm her down. "Yes, we will." She assured her. "We'll deal with it, and even if they cut that time down to one month, or one week, we'll find a way."

"Oh, please, ya had less than half a chance when you started all this salvation bullshit." Angel commented from where he sat, scrolling through Sinstagram. "And now? Hah! Ain't no silver lining this time toots."

"Sure there is! We just...have to look a little harder for it!" Charlie declared.

"Well, while you're lookin', the rest'a hell's already goin' nuts. Look at what's happenin' in the Doomsday District!" Angel said as he excitedly waved his phone in their faces.

As Charlie slowly recovered from her admittedly reasonable reaction, the Hunter was already making plans. Not out of fear, but out of necessity. His services would be in high demand much sooner this year, and for the years to come.

While the Extermination occurring sooner would give him much more in terms of resources and the ever-precious Angelic Steel, the attacks would likely ramp up in intensity as well, and the number of his prey would likely become too much to handle using ambushes and traps.

However, these would mostly be fresh recruits, easy to bait and easier to put down. His hunt would become an endurance trial, his skills, tactics and trick weapons against the unending legions of Heaven. Thankfully, endurance had become a non-issue ever since-

'No. Not here. I will not think about it here.'

But it did raise a fair question: When had his faith become so corroded?

When had it become so easy to see the Father's soldiers as enemies to murder and pillage, demons as allies at best and annoyances at worst, Sinners damned to eternity as people to be only mildly cautious about?

When had consorting with the daughter of Lucifer mean nothing more than speaking to a new friend?

When…

When had he last prayed?

He…couldn't remember. When had he last prayed to his Father? Thinking back, he had entered the clinic in Yharnam with a rosary around his neck and a prayer on his lips.

At some point, the rosary had dulled the claw of a Beast, but had been rendered in two as a result. He hadn't the time to retrieve it, because he was run through a moment later. He couldn't remember the last time he prayed, however, he could remember the most he had prayed, following the defeat of the creature that had once been Ludwig.

A man of the church, reduced to a monstrous, dismembered head, still tormented even in his final moments. He had given the once-human a lengthy and intense prayer, in the hopes that God would find mercy on one of his most faithful.

But beyond that, he had been too deep in the mires of madness to consider worship. Now, far away from the darkest nightmare of his life, he could only look back with the same detachment one felt for a deceased relative they never knew.

When had his heart died?

When had he stopped being-

'ENOUGH. I will think of it no more.'

A distraction, thankfully, reared its big and ugly head. Just outside, a group with hostile intent were standing- no, floating, above the hotel.

'Ah, something interesting. I should let the others know, so they aren't startled by the arrival of this new foe.'

"May I have everyone's attention?" Since the Hunter rarely started dialogue, and had picked a time when all had been silent, he did indeed have their attention.

"Brace for impact."

Then the wall exploded.

As the dust settled, and the residents recovered from their shock, the sound of mighty engines hummed from overhead, and the largest flying machine the Hunter had ever witnessed loomed over the hotel. A ship he was familiar with.

'This one again?' He thought to himself, disappearing from the others in order to directly confront the pilot.

He knew the snake, not for a bond shared as allies or enemies, but for the lives they had lived. While he had been alive before the snake's time, it was close enough that they could relate on certain things.

They had on several occasions, but too often their encounters became hostile for one reason or another. They were each too different to truly understand the other, and what could have been a good friend turned into an annoying pest that was best ignored.

Although this could be a good test of his newly modified Saw Cleaver, he didn't need to use it. While he knew he would never have to see the snake again if cut by the jagged teeth, he had learned that not every problem needed spilled blood and burned souls as a solution. All that was needed was a few words…and probably a few warning shots (scarily accurate gunshot wounds) if needed.

Going for the non-lethal solution would also do well by Charlie's eyes, and might even help his admittedly deteriorated mental state. Who knew not killing things would do wonders for the soul?

The main issue with one's target floating a few dozen meters above them was that they could not actually reach it, short of miraculously becoming capable of flight, carrying a hundred pounds of rope and hook, or teleportation via a lantern he had hidden within a room that was never used.

It was a wonder what his option was.

The waypoint in question was in a guest room, the implications of which were as sad as it was useful to him. It was a room that had never been used by any in the ship, and the door had only been opened whenever it was to be cleaned, once every month.

Thankfully, they still had not found the lantern on the nightstand suspicious in any way, so the minions had left it be.

Now that he was on the ship, it was time to see if the snake had gotten better locks since the last time he had been here.

A few minutes later, near the end of Pentious embarrassing himself in front of Alastor

*click*

*click*

The snake had indeed, not changed the locks, and made what could have been an annoying slog through the admittedly stiff defense system an easy route directly to the commander's deck.

Deep in an argument with the Radio Demon, it was child's play to walk up behind him unnoticed, the minions having grown accustomed to his presence the last few times and now seeing him as a strange, argumentative guest that sometimes made their Boss happy when he was here.

As Pentious became more incensed, a hard boot to his ass sent him flying from his commander's deck, through the glass, and on the lawn in front of the five he had been pestering. Recognizing the boot print stinging his tail, he bounced from the floor, rubbing his ass as the person that gave him the mark landed hard on his feet a moment later. "You!?"

The Hunter, who raised to his full height, glared at the snake demon. "You have chosen an awful time to appear, I'm afraid. As it is, I am currently a resident of this establishment, and I will not tolerate you damaging the premises or harassing the staff."

"You really have got the nerve to show your face after what you have done to me!" the snake Sinner spat at him bitterly, somehow more hateful than facing Alastor.

The Hunter huffed, knowing how this was going to go. "That was three months ago, and if I remember correctly, I was only defending myself when you overreacted during what should have been a polite, civil conversation."

"Oh don't you get me started." Sir Pentious snarled at him. "You know exactly why you deserved death then, and I certainly haven't forgotten now!"

The Hunter raised an eyebrow, as if daring the snake to air out the fetid grudge they shared. "And what, pray tell, was so offensive that a barrage of ordnance was a measured and reasonable response?"

"You insulted my hat!" The snake sinner shouted, painting both arms towards the oversized top hat on his… head? hood?...head, the mono-eyed face scowling at the tricorn on the Hunter's head.

The Hunter stifled a grimace as he tried not to imagine the same hat adorning the Blood Minister's brow, splitting grin and glaring eye above a bandage covered, gaunt face. "I had merely stated that this," Gesturing at his own hat, "Was more common in my days, with top hats being reserved for men of stature."

Good Lord, how had the world of fashion become so atrocious!? Short pants of dubious material replacing breeches? Loose and garish T-shirts replacing waistcoats? And what was the deal with all this skin being shown? (Or fur or scales or whatever.) Truly, he was in a Hell he had never expected.

"Ugh! A tricorn? Puh-leassse, that's lame!" 'Ah, agony, bitter be thy name.'

This public display of fashion-aggravated homicide caused Charlie to gasp while Angel shook his head in disappointment. To be judged as 'lame', even by Pentious' backwards standards, was akin to suicide for the more socially reliant Sinners.

However, the Hunter didn't even have a phone, so all it meant was his heart clenching in agony as he remembered the multitude of times he told his grandfather how out of date his soldier's uniform was, or how 'boring' his war stories are. Granted, the old man was as interesting as dried moss, but hindsight made him want to gouge his impulsive tongue from his jaws.

'Wait, why do I care? He is still an intruder.'

"Regardless of what you believe to be correct, there must still be civility, even in this dark pit of Hell." (Looking around, this 'pit' was both well lit and not actually a pit) "This place is not to be of violence or suffering, but-"

"Yes, yes, spare me the moral high ground speech." Pentious rudely interrupted. "However!" The snake clicked his fingers, and a rope ladder unfurled from the zeppelin above, the end cracking on his head. Rubbing his head, he grabbed a rung as the ladder began to raise back up. "Remember this, I shall have my revenge!"

"Until then." The Hunter muttered dryly as he watched Pentious sloooowly turn his Zeppelin before leaving at the speed of a healthy jog. How had the fool survived as long as he had? Brazenly going after one of the most dangerous Overlords in Pride, with no plan aside from slinging insults and grandstanding, was not something that gave one a long and healthy life.

As Pentious left, the Hunter heard a certain cane tapping nearby, Alastor arriving on scene with his iconic smile. "Seems you are acquainted with him, hm?" The Hunter didn't feel the need to explain his troubled and annoying relationship with the snake. Which was fine for Alastor. "Well, I'm sure that will be sorted anytime soon. Though, it looks like I might have business elsewhere today!" Alastor spoke, as he tapped his way to the gate. "Best of luck, chums."

Vaggie was more than a little irritated that Alastor was leaving them to clean up what was technically his mess, and let him know just what she thought of that. "Wait, you're leaving?! Alastor! We need your help! Do your job!"

The Porn Star gestured to the wall absentmindedly, already uploading the video of Pentious getting his ass kicked to Sinstagram. "We kinda need a wall."

Alastor looked back at his colleagues, his smile not growing or shrinking. "Of course! Can't let my new project fall into disrepair already, what would the papers say?!" He snapped his fingers, and soon black ink demons appeared with construction tools, getting to work as he left the premises.

Once the Radio Demon left, the Hunter turned to look at the others, as if truly understanding this current lot he had been given. He would never again call anything 'hopeless', but this cause? This scattered troop? It was certainly close.

Six Hours Later…

Charlie and Vaggie walked back into the Hotel's main longue, practically layng on each other's shoulders, before the former threw herself onto the couch, completely exhausted. Angel looked up from his phone at his technical host from the other couch. "Soooo? How'd it go?"

Vaggie released an explosive sigh in response. "Not a single taker."

Angel, completely unsurprised, went back to scrolling. "Yeah, well, who would wanna use their last days not fucking and fighting?"

The Hunter internally agreed. 'It is improbable for someone foolish enough to believe in all people, while also mimicking the Princess' wide-eyed idealism to last or even exist here.'

'Truly, it is unlikely anyone would willingly come here.'

Then, someone knocked on the front door.

After a moment of surprise, Vaggie, the least exhausted of the main pair, dragged herself off the couch with a groan, and went to answer the door, only to find Sir Pentious behind it, holding his hat shyly. "Why, hello, my dear—" He was immediately punched in the face by her, knocking him onto the ground for the second time today. On the way up, he was met by the tip of Vaggie's spear, as he hastily begged for mercy. "Wait, wait, wait! I come in peace!"

"What are you doing here!?" Vaggie demanded, the speartip edging closer to his throat.

"Vaggie, what's the problem?" The Princess of Hell asked as she also reached the doorway, her exhaustion evaporating as she tried to find out what had spooked Vaggie so much. "Oh! Hello again!"

"I didn't come looking for a fight. I uhh…I…heard you're helping people who want to be better?" Pentious informed them nervously, as if it was a question.

Having gone through quite literally Hell and getting nothing so far, being presented with a golden opportunity, the Princess of Hell loudly gasped, stars in her eyes, before she grabbed his hand and practically dragged him through the door of the Hotel. "You heard right! Welcome to our home of healing, our resort of restoration, our—"

"Are you fucking nuts!?" Angel immediately cut her off from the couch. "This chump was trying to kill us a few hours ago! And now you wanna bring him in here to live with us?!"

"Absolutely!" Charlie answered confidently, "This place is about second chances, and who deserves one more than this slithery…slippery…special little man!"

The Porn Star looked at Vaggie with pleas in his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to protect this place?", he said, gesturing to the damage the snake had caused.

While they bickered and argued over a foregone conclusion, the Hunter saw something they didn't. His eyes were darting around, seeing something in the shadows of the room. His breathing was heavier, as if he had been much more active recently. He was wringing his hands, something he did whenever he was nervous.

The snake was a bombastic creature, all of his emotions on full display despite his lot in the afterlife. And yet, the Hunter had never seen him so…down, before. Withdrawn. Repressed. Afraid.

Something had spooked him. Someone had sent him here for a reason. By threat or by warning, the Hunter did not know, but stalking a paranoid opponent was second nature by now.

…perhaps this therapy someone mentioned might be beneficial.

-Scene Change-

The rest of the day went by uneventfully, and Charlie introducing Sir Pentious to the Hotel went much smoother than anticipated. She was a bit overenthusiastic about it, and while it should have made the snake shy away, he was bearing it the best he could.

Which was suspicious, since by all rights he had no reason to even want to be here. He had a strange but not terrible life in Hell, he had no true enemies aside from minor spats and slight grudges, and he had attacked this place the same day, but he was acting like this was the only thing he had left.

Someone had a metaphorical ('or perhaps, literal,' The Hunter thought, eyeing some of the wider windows the snake was standing in view of) gun to his head, and the snake had no choice but to dance on the strings.

Truth be told, the Hunter did not hate the snake. He did not truly hate anything, personally believing hatred was poison for the mind and acid for the soul, having seen what hatred did after death. That did not mean, however, he was merciful. If he tried anything nefarious, even under orders he could not refuse, the Hunter would have no choice but to respond in kind.

What that response was, depended on the Sinner's actions. If he was simply seeking asylum from an enemy he could not face, then the Hunter would protect him as an ally. If he was here on another's orders, then the Hunter would 'solve' his problems for him.

There was no doubt that the snake had anything truly malicious planned. While he may be sentenced to Hell, he still had some semblance of a heart. (That and he wasn't known for his mind)

Even as the Hunter watched the snake be overwhelmed by the maid's equally vibrant nature, mind abuzz with possibilities and potential plots, the wheel in the sky kept turning.

The Princess of Hell hosted a play that Pentious and Angel participated in, to help mesh their personalities. Suffice to say, it was a very poor performance. For Christ's sake, that was worse than the opera he had performed in in his boy years. And someone had sicked on the floor then!

But the play ended, the time went on, and it was time for bed. The snake had been guided to his room, where Charlie had very nearly talked his head off before wishing him goodnight, and dozing off in her room.

The night was only marginally quieter than the day, but that was the best you were gonna get in Pride. If Pentious was truly up to something, then now would be the time to strike. Unsurprisingly, at midnight exactly, the Hunter heard a door slowly open, then slowly close, then the hushed sound of a scaly tail on carpet. He heard this, because he had hidden within the broom closet across the hall from Pentious.

Quietly exiting the room, the Hunter began to follow his prey from a fair distance, keeping far enough back so that the snake could not detect him.

As the snake slowed down, the Hunter peered around a corner using a trick he learned in his early years: a mirror held at a good angle allowed him to see without being seen. And what he saw was the Sinner sneak into Charlie's office.

The normally locked office, that had been unlocked by the key the snake must have swiped from Charlie while she had led him to his room. Clever. But not clever enough.

Forgoing the distance between them, the Hunter entered the office behind the snake, who was busy fiddling with something on a bookcase.

Closing the door slowly, the Hunter made sure that the door *clicked* as it closed, startling Pentious, who was not expecting the Hunter to appear behind him (like he did pretty much every time the two interacted).

"W-what are you doing here!?" Shocked by being both caught and by being caught by him, Pentious didn't do anything about the Hunter brushing past him to inspect what the snake had been doing.

The Hunter's intro to 'cameras' was a strange affair. A metal box that could make a perfect image of anything before its glass eye? And they were everywhere? He had imagined, for a time, just how the people of his time would have used such an astounding artifice.

A painting could take multiple hours, and there were always noticeable 'flaws' that were unavoidable with paint and brush. This device, that created images made beyond human quality, and with but a single instant of time, would cost more than small countries combined and could cause wars to be fought over anything it produced.

And now they were commonplace? Truly, he had been spared a dark fate.

But after a time, they had grown commonplace to him as well, so he could understand this one's purpose, if only partially.

It was small, boxy, and no larger than a paperweight, making it difficult to find when placed among the books that Charlie had gathered but never read. Nestled between a beginner's guide to pottery and an instruction manual for an oven that hadn't existed in half a century made it incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to find when one was not searching for it.

However, the stylized golden 'V' on the back told the Hunter everything he needed to know.

Pentious was working for (or being forced by) the 'Vee' Overlords to spy on the hotel. The Hunter had his answers, now he needed to solve the problem.

"While we may have our differences," The Hunter began, picking up the small camera and turning to Pentious, who had recovered from his shock and was now sweating bullets, "I cannot and will not do anything to disrupt what little stability this hotel possesses." At this, the snake relaxed a touch.

"Nor will I allow others to do the same." And with that, the snake tensed up again, as the small camera was crushed in the Hunter's gloved fist, circuitry and scrap metal spilling from his clenched fingers.

"I will allow you merely once to cease. If you are being forced to do this, then I shall aid you. If you came here by choice, then leave. This night never happened, I saw nothing and neither did you. But you must prove this Pentious" He stared into the Sinner's eyes unblinking, trying to make the snake realize he was going to help him.

"Prove your honor, and no harm will be done to you."

Pentious was a prideful creature, who feared little and cared even less. When he had his egg bois with him, he felt like there was nothing he couldn't do.

Yet, here he was now, alone and was facing an enemy that he could not beat, could not escape. The dark room, the dark figure, and the dim red light behind the figure painted a terrifying picture to his fraying nerves. Fear he had not felt in decades clouded his mind, twisted his senses. His fears warped the words he was hearing, turning (poorly worded) offers of help into threats of fates worse than death.

And when the Hunter reached out with his hand, offering a handshake, Pentious panicked.

"STAY AWAY!" By sheer reflex, he tried to use his hypnosis on the Hunter, his hood flaring out and the fake eyes pulsing rhythmically.

The Hunter stumbled, his eyes widening in shock. He was in the Nightmare, following the path to the school of Mensis. But the Eye was watching. Always watching, forever changing, driving him mad MAD MAD-

The Hunter reacted poorly. A punch landed in Pentious' stomach, causing him to crumple backwards, spewing blood and causing his hypnosis to fail. He didn't get the chance to catch his breath when he was kicked hard in the face, causing his head to snap back against the floor.

Then the shit got kicked out of him. At some point, the beating stopped, and Pentious was able to clearly raise his head, only to freeze when he saw something he hadn't seen in a century.

The barrel of a large, ornate flintlock, aimed directly between his crossed eyes. Instincts honed from a life he had nearly forgotten made him hold as still as possible, overriding his years in Hell telling him that whatever damage it would cause would be temporary at best and a headache at worst. Then a boot crashed onto his chest, and he was pinned. As the adrenaline slowly faded, he heard the Hunter's heavy breath, and dared to look at his face.

He was living a nightmare. His eyes were wild and shaky, but his grip was as stable as a statue's. "Foul creature..." The Hunter grinded out in a voice that wasn't his, saying words that held no sense. "You shall haunt me no more"

Just as the Hunter's trigger finger tensed, he heard a yawn from behind him. Charlie had arrived at the office, rubbing sleep from her eyes while Vaggie walked from behind her, carrying her spear in a soldier's grip despite her drooping eyes. As Charlie processed what was happening, the Hunter 'awoke' from his madness. He was not in Mensis, he was not in Mensis, he was not in Mensis. "What's going on?"

"As unfortunate as it may seem, the snake's intentions towards us were ill, Miss Morningstar." The Hunter informed her, keeping his gun aimed at the snake, even as he turned to address her.

"Preposterous! I would never betray you!" Pentious claimed, completely denying the things he had actually done. Now that his pride was on the line, he began to do what he did best: thrash desperately. "You...are my best—" He was rudely cut off when the Hunter twisted the leg that pinned him.

"He planted this camera that now lies in pieces, by order of the Vees." He spoke with a measured, carefully neutral tone, nodding at the pieces of the camera that he had dropped, the small embossed plate lying face up in the center.

The trio were shocked at this revelation. Vaggie was angry that she had been right, Angel was both worried that the Vees were after the hotel, and relieved that the Hunter had caught Pentious before the Vees saw Angel here.

Charlie was heartbroken. The pure emotion in her eyes made the Hunter's fraying temper boil, and distracted him long enough for the snake to make his move.

With the weight on his chest lifted for a second, the snake slipped out from under the boot, touching his watch at the same time as he backed into a corner. "Ah! Ah! Abort! Abort! Agent Pentious in need of immediate evacuation!"

Whoever was on the other end immediately picked up. "Pentious? Wait… you were caught?! It hasn't even been a day! And you already look like hammered shit!" Vox yelled, surprised that things had gone to shit so quickly.

"Please! You've got to get me out of here!" The Snake-like Sinner pleaded, voice filled with despair.

The Hunter was realizing what was happening now. Pentious wasn't here by choice. He was merely a victim. One he had nearly brutalized

"I can't believe we thought you could handle even something this simple! " His handler spoke, disappointed and disgusted in the same breath. "Do us a favour, if they don't kill you, go ahead and do it yourself! You MISERABLE FAILURE!"

The watch then fizzled and popped, turning into a useless hunk of metal and silicone. There was silence for a moment, then, the snake began to shiver. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes. "I...I…just make it quick I guess…not that I deserve it." He spoke remorsefully, defeated, before falling backwards onto the floor.

The Hunter no longer faced an enemy, but a broken man. Hearing him beg for his life, then break into tears…

He holstered his gun, then turned away. As he passed by Charlie, who still seemed unsure of what was happening, he stopped for a moment. "I will be going to bed now. It has been a long day. Goodnight." Stiffly, awkwardly, he left the office and turned the corner.

As Charlie looked over the weeping snake, Vaggie and Angel looked at one another, bewildered. Something Pentious had done had riled up the Hunter badly, enough to beat the living hell into him then draw a gun. "So, uh, what the hell happened?" Angel asked as he eyed the snake. "Why do you think Ol' Leathers tenderized this guy?"

Vaggie didn't know either. She didn't think the guy was even capable of emotion, let alone having an outburst like that. "Not a clue, but he didn't look too hot when he left. Hopefully he doesn't do anything else like that tonight."

Charlie, the ever-bleeding heart, turned to her girlfriend, even as she held Pentious. "I'll go and check on him, but I'll let him calm down first." Vaggie sighed. "Look, you can go to Hunter, I'll handle Pentious, you can't deal with two guys at once."

"I can handl-"

"Shut up Angel."

HH: Fixed it. Again. I'm gonna cry if I can't make them (anyone x anyone at this point) fuck like wild animals.

If there's any suggestion, then please tell us. I want this to be good and I'm not sure what is really wanted.

See ya all in the next chapter, motherfuckers!

Chapter 8: Bitter Blood

Before we start, I must admit that the previous iteration of this chapter was, in fact, the weakest of the entire story. For that, we decided to make adjustments. Hope you'll like it!

HH: Yeah this sucked dick. However, I'm unchallenged in a gas station bathroom, so we're working through this.

A Hunter's Guide For Running A Hotel

VIII

Bitter Blood

Had he kept it, his heart would still be thumping in his ears, as the shock of adrenaline slowly bled away, and the weight of his actions started to press in. A deafening silence pounded at his ears as he sat against the wall of the room, staring at his weapon leaning against the wall opposite, darker than shade yet gently glowing. He had pulled down his cloth so he could breathe, but he had no lungs to draw breath. Regardless, the familiar action helped him ruminate on his actions, while he stared at his shaking hands. 'You went too far. Again.' He cursed himself for his moment of weakness, but those eyes...

Yharnam had done him no favors, but it had cursed him with shaky hands and wild breath, whenever things got just a bit too much for him to handle. Since his surprisingly willing arrival in Hell three years ago, the walls that encased his heart were denser than diamonds, and every interaction he had with its inhabitants were filled with doubt and suspicion of their true intentions. Even now, after knowing and working with many colorful characters, he was a man tainted by evil. Tainted by suffering. Tainted by…

His hand slipped into his left pocket, drawing a glass vial containing one of the last remnants of Yharnam's great and terrible knowledge. The Hunter stared into the dense red liquid, feeling its warmth even through his leathered right hand. For while the form may change, while its power may wane and dim, a curse never truly dies. He could never be rid of this, always finding a single vial on his person, begging, demanding it be opened, it be consumed. At one point, he had almost given in, almost handed it off to another, so he may be free from it at last. He hadn't, but because he nearly had made him doubt his free will for a time. And now, it seems, he had nearly run dry.

'I can never be free of you, can I?' The blood didn't respond, not that he hoped it would. If he was ever able to converse with this blood, then he was truly beyond saving. 'Even when I cannot hear your laughter, even when I cannot feel your thirst, you find ways to cloud my mind.' His fingers, of their own free will, began to close, sending light cracks crawling across the glass within his grip. The blood within became more active, as if he were shaking it. 'Even when you can no longer hurt this world, you find a way to hurt me.' The vial sounded like it was screaming in agony, while the blood within was singing to be released. 'You cost me everything. My humanity. My soul. My mentor. The life I knew, the country I loved. And now, my chance to leave my past behind and start anew.'

It was about to break. The Hunter was uncaring of the consequences, far beyond reason or understanding, drowning in his grief. The curse was about to be free. It would have been, if a knock had not distracted him, snapping the Hunter out from his thoughts. Pocketing the suddenly roiling blood, and raising his mouth cloth, he rose from the floor, and walked to the door to open it. At the door was Charlie, fidgeting with her hands, nervous. "Hey Hunter. I just wanted to check if you're okay after that…incident."

He was not, but she didn't need to know that. Pentious, while admittedly a little sketchy, wasn't truly harming anyone. He had overreacted, and he felt awful about it. He shouldn't lie to her, so a half-truth would suffice. "I would like to apologise to Pentious, Princess. I overreacted, and it was wrong of me to go so far as to nearly kill him." He wasn't one for apologies, and it felt a bit insincere, all things considered... But he wasn't clearly thinking right now.

Charlie recognised the state he was in, and while it answered a lot of questions, it still opened one that made her wonder how this stoic badass got PTSD in Hell. First things first though, he was having a flashback earlier. Now she has to calm him down before he either goes on a murderous rampage or chop his own head off. "It's okay, you can tell him in person later. I know you might be dealing with stuff you don't want to talk about, but I just want to know what Pentious did that caused you to get riled up." Hopefully this was working, since he would be focusing on her words instead of what was going on in his head.

The Hunter was caught flatfooted. "I…" Fear filled his mind at the thought of telling her about Yharnam, and the Eldritch Truth. To understand one was to fully comprehend the other, after all. And Lucifer's spawn she may be, he wasn't willing to hurt her with that knowledge. Yet or ever. Eventually, he got the proper words to say. "I will…need some time to think about it. I am not…entirely comfortable yet. Sorry."

The Princess of Hell spotted the conflict burning in his eyes. He was hiding something from her. But, she wouldn't pry. That wasn't her place to do so, and it could be a bad mark on the Hotel's reputation if she did. "That's alright. Take as much time as you need, if you ever feel like it." An idea popped in her head. "Say, what do you say you take a week off and go have some fun wherever?" It may not have been the best option, but this was the only choice she had when it came for the sake of the Hunter's mental state. For better or worse, he and Pentious needed space after their last encounter. "I'll tell Pentious you're sorry, and I'll make sure he knows you mean it too!"

Mind clearer and more focused, he nodded in confirmation. "That would be good, Princess. Although, I am unsure if I should make a decision so quickly."

"Then how about we decide tomorrow?" She suggested. "For the rest of the day, take whatever time you need to get your thoughts in order."

The Hunter thought of it, decided it was satisfactory, and responded to her. "Seems like a reasonable option to me."

That was all the Princess of Hell needed to hear. She smiled, knowing that, at the very least, he was stable now. "Thanks, and I'm glad you're feeling okay, Hunter." She closed her eyes and let out a yawn, then slumped a bit, the weight of the day setting on her shoulders. "Now, let's have some rest so we can talk tomorrow."

The Hunter calmly nodded at her proposal. "Of course." With that, she sleepily walked back to her room where her girlfriend slept on her warm bed.

As he was left alone, the Hunter thought back to what she had told him. "Telling her what troubles me." He morbidly chuckled. "Not a chance in Hell." He closed the door, then turned to the bed he had long-since neglected. Perhaps sleep would help him. Perhaps. Sleep took him shortly after his head touched the pillow, like a thief in the night. While he slept, he dreamed of finding himself-

-THE HUNTER'S DREAM-

-in a field of flowers. He breathed in deeply, then let it leak out shakily. The gray sky and familiar scents gave him slight reprieve, as did the lack of electrical buzzing that occurred in the cities of Hell. He needed some time to recover, and to think. More importantly, he needed a plan. His good friend was here, and she could give him a few words of advice.

The Doll heard the Hunter's approach, and rose from her maker's gravestone, setting the cloth onto the rim of the washbucket. She turned to greet him, and immediately noticed the troubled look in his eyes. Not the sort of trouble that implied he had died a violent death, but the kind that would require tea and a warm fire. "Ah, welcome home, Good Hunter. Is everything okay in the waking world?" She, of course, already knew otherwise, but it was good for his sanity to let him talk about these sorts of things willingly.

He bowed to her, a pained stiffness in his limbs belying his turmoil. "Hello, old friend. I am…no, no I am not alright at the moment. Something occurred within the hotel, of which the fault can be placed upon me. And with the next Extermination Day approaching, I feel as though I am running out of time. Most importantly," He hesitated for a moment, steeling himself, then continued, "I wonder if I should tell Charlie the truth.

"Oh." This was new, but not completely surprising. Someone would have likely found out someday, so it was best someone the Hunter could trust. "And which parts of the truth would you be willing to tell?"

"It's not merely how much I tell her it's…" The Hunter lost all bravado. He looked down at his feet, his voice a whisper, "I don't know if I'm ready."

The Doll knew there was little she could do here, but she had to try. He was referring to, of course, his time as a Hunter, and what he had learned from Yharnam. The events were scars upon his mind, each deeper and more painful than the last. He had pushed the majority of the memories away, so they could not harm him, but it was no way to live when you could not remember why you cried.

That was the simpler problem. The harder one was that there was truth, and there was Truth.

The truth was that mankind had sinned, had defiled and desecrated for an intoxicating power that boiled into a foul disease. The truth was the horrific acts that had been committed with the blood, the countless crypts and graves a testament to man's folly.

The Truth was who they had violated, who's blood they had used, and who's last act was cursing the fiends with the knowledge that why had sinned.

For it was one thing to murder man, it was another to kill a god.

However, to know one would be to understand the other, so potential recipients of his cursed tale were few and far between. To finally find one? One that could understand, one that could care, and didn't lust for the promise of ruinous power? He had hoped against hope it would happen, yet he never planned for it.

"This sounds like something to be discussed over tea." But other things first. The safety of the Good Hunter was her top priority.

"Agreed. But first… may I help you with this?" He gestured to the bucket and stone, which had a slight film of green from the humidity of the mist. "It has been some time since I have done this, and I believe it would help focus my mind." The simple monotony of scrubbing stone would be a welcome reprieve from the constant pressure he had faced all day.

"Of course, Good Hunter." The Doll felt a spark of joy as they silently cleaned the stone, his large hands covering a greater area than her fair, dainty hands did. She wondered what he could feel through the 'leather' coating his hands, if he could even feel at all.

Some days she wished she had his hands, so that she could feel as he did. Gehrman, while skilled, had seemingly neglected the senses used everyday yet rarely cherished.

He had granted her sight and hearing, yet neglected to grant her touch, taste, or scent. She could never know the smell of fresh grass, nor could she smell powerful blood. She could never taste the tea she brewed, nor could she consume the flesh of still-living creatures. She could never feel the chill of cold stone, nor could she feel the prick of a filled needle.

In some ways a gift, in others a curse. Yet, some things had received her attention, after a time.

How strange it was, that she lacked the senses that doomed many Hunters, leaving razor-sharp vision and perfect hearing. How interesting it was, that she was designed after the most lethal Hunter, yet trained as a maid.

How curious it was, that the blade of the late Maria, when cleaning the Hunter's arsenal, fit perfectly in her slight, flawless hands. How fascinating it was, that it had spoken to her of memories old and new, of dark catacombs and moonlit oceans, seen through the rose lens of a blade. How intriguing it was, that the same blade had told her what she had been made for, and how an old man's regrets and grief prevented her true flame from being lit, leaving her as a simple servant in a land lost to time.

How sad it was, that she had been denied her purpose. Yet, she was glad for it. For if she was not who she was today, then she would not be here, cleaning the last patches of moss with her only friend, a faint smile on her face.

"I believe I can finish from here my friend, would you kindly brew us some tea?" The Hunter was willing to do the rest, so that the Doll would not be forced to do all of the work. While many in his past would have done so without a second thought, the times had changed, and him with it.

"Of course, Good Hunter." She responded before she went and brewed some tea.

As he finished the last few stubborn spots, and the Doll set the kettle, a silent tranquility guided them both. It was not until they were both seated that the Hunter's tension began to climb again. It never felt right to talk about his problems. It was a man's duty to keep silent about what troubled him, so that he would not inconvenience another. But… maybe it was alright just this time.

"So, you said that there was an…incident?" The Doll wanted to start slow, small, so he had time to brace himself for whatever troubled him.

He let out a slight nod to his friend, still in a state of confusion and uncertainty. His red eyes were dull now, full of conflict and regrets. "Yes. It seems I haven't adjusted to my new life very well yet. There were warning signs, which I had foolishly ignored."

"Oh? Tell me about them." She asked.

"The first was when I saw Angel's pet pig, named Fat Nuggets. Just seeing a pig brought up memories of that poor child back in the sewers, causing me to freeze on the spot." He shuddered in twofold grief at that unforgiving memory, as well as disgust at his perceived weakness. He was scared of a tiny, harmless pig! He who had slain gods, afraid of swine! There were painful memories, and there was foolishness. "Angel, of course, noticed my reaction and wondered. He had not asked further, but now knows I fear them."

"There had been other events, things I had not considered or had simply become a habit. I would not enter any room with less than one exit, in case it became blocked or an enemy I could not face appeared in front of it. If I could not see all corners of a room before entering I acted as if they potentially housed hostiles. Small rooms and tight hallways were avoided, in case I had to run. I avoided sightlines to the main road, in case of marksmen." He had finally puzzled this out himself recently, why he only trusted the main lobby and no other room. "I acted as though I would be attacked at any moment, without warning, as if the danger had never passed."

He moved on to the other part that was important. "Most recently, I overreacted against Sir Pentious, a new guest at the Hotel. Although I had fought him in the past, and he had attempted to, for lack of a better word, siege the hotel, he returned, claiming to seek redemption. Unfortunately, it was a ploy, as he worked for the Vees, one of the city's gangs of higher capability. For his perceived betrayal, I didn't think properly, and attempted to convince him to cease his actions, lest he face the repercussions. But, fearing my admittedly brash and aggravating demands, he tried to hypnotise me with his multiple eyes…"

"I attempted to stop him. But due to my previous encounters with him, he attempted to hypnotize me with his multiple eyes to stop me…"

His cuffed, leathered right hand curled it up into a shaky fist, before he released the pressure. "And I beat him. My mind was…clouded, at this time. I wanted to kill him for his trickery. Fortunately for the both of us, Charlie and the others arrived before I had any further lapses in judgement, so I left him to what I had assumed to be, at the time, his just punishment. It was only after I returned to my room that I realized what I had done, and the shame bore down on me as a weight I could scarcely fathom. Right after, Charlie came to me, to see if I was okay. I gave my answer, but I doubt she believed it. She decided that I should take a week off, and spend some time elsewhere. But I am unsure of what to do. I do not have a plan."

The Doll was mentally sorting what she heard, and deciding what the best course of action was. The best option was…difficult to decide. The Hunter was clearly scarred from this encounter, which was both good for his humanity, and bad for his mental state. It was good in the sense that he cared about the consequences of his actions, instead of thinking himself above empathy. It was also bad in that his current state of mind was barely coherent enough to recognize that he wasn't ready. While definitely not ideal (ideal being there not being a writhing horror of indeterminate age and sanity inflicting great harm to the world outside of this Dream), it also gave an opportunity. "Good Hunter," She spoke softly. "If you are unsure what to do, reflect on what Miss Morningstar said on your first meeting."

The Hunter wasn't so sure where she was going, but was focusing regardless. "Miss Morningstar?"

His friend nodded. "Yes. On the first day, she treated you kindly, and told you and the others what her plans were to have your tortured souls unshackled from the sins that scar them."

He could remember her declaration still, that she could save him. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. "While Miss Morningstar is a much more gentle heart than mine, with several centuries on me, she is still naive. She truly believes she can save everyone. Including me." The Princess was bold to declare such a thing, in the home of men made monsters. Such a thing could be laughed at for the sheer nerve, yet she believed it. She was hellbent on the redemption of himself and the others, and refused to see reason.

He was too far gone.

"My friend, why tell me this?" He was also utterly confused as to why she decided to bring her up.

The Doll only placidly stared at him. "Has she ever doubted you? Why should you doubt her?"

Silence. What could he say? Charlie had never done him wrong, she had never led him astray. And, she was one of the few people who wore their entire heart on their sleeves. In Hell, those who held their cards tight to their chest were common, with fear and suspicion marking their every move. There were few he did know by heart and soul, but those were the sort who didn't care what others thought of them. Charlie, however, was a different soul than most. She had a golden heart that shone through every storm, a veritable lighthouse for those that called her friend.

But he doubted nonetheless. Not for fear of his sake, but fear for hers. The Doll knew what he was doubtful of, however. "I know you fear, Good Hunter. I know your scars ache and burn you, and the path to peace may be clouded and uncertain, but..." There was a moment of silence, as she considered what to say. "There is more hope for you than you may believe, Good Hunter. I just hope one day you might be able to see it."

"I…" The Hunter opened his mouth before shutting it. What could he say in response? Could he even deny it? That it could get better? That he deserved it? He eventually let out a sigh. "You're right. You've been right all along, my friend. This…pain has stuck with me for so long. I don't know what the future may hold but..."

A pair of cold hands held his. The Doll was looking at him as though he were a hurt child. "Do not fear for the future, Good Hunter. Live through the present, and forgive yourself for the past."

His stony heart was cracking. The Doll's advice hit him as hard as a kirkhammer wielded by a Beast. He still wasn't sure, but he gave a response that would please her. "I will do this then, my friend. Though, there is one thing that I am certain of. She will need to see to believe it. While Hell is uniquely vast, Yharnam was one of a kind."

His friend still saw that look in his eyes. She felt as though there were a handful of things that needed to be sorted. "Will that include the Eldritch Truth, which is something you promised yourself that you would keep it away from all the denizens of Hell?"

He paused at that response as he remembered what he said to her. True, it would lead to Hell's Princess an ugly truth. Yet, for some odd reason, he felt as though it was necessary to tell her. "I regret saying this; but… you're right. She needs to understand in order for her to help me. I have a feeling that she may not be the only one who knows about it."

The Doll wasn't expecting that response coming from him. Yet, she knew why he had that thought. A question came to mind. "And how will you explain it to her, Good Hunter, if you can't explain it in your current state?"

He replied by gently pulling his right hand off from the Doll's grasp and got his journal from one of his flack pockets. "I will be giving her this so she could read what I have been through in Yharnam and beyond. It's…not exactly an ideal choice. But it will be the only way to let her know what my problems are."

"Good Hunter." He looked back at his friend, who still had that calm, small smile retained on her expressionless face. "It is entirely up to you. It is your decision to make. I won't pressure you about it. However, I will point out that Miss Morningstar won't properly help you unless she is informed."

"You're correct as always, my friend." He spoke with acknowledgement while staring at his journal. He didn't want her to hear this, but he let out a chuckle that aligned with his pure cynicism. He thought for a couple of minutes before he came to a decision. "It looks like I've made my choice." He knew he would come to regret it. If it's for the same as being healed; then he has no other option but to do what is needed.

-THE NEXT DAY, BACK TO THE WAKING WORLD-

The Hunter exited his bed and immediately knelt to see the Messengers near his feet. These were not ordinary messengers, but spectral beings bound to him by a mysterious pact. "Once Miss Morningstar reads it, there is a chance that it will go to someone else's hands. If she is unconscious, make sure you grab it and return it back to me. You all got that?"

They let out a happy, ghastly groan before disappearing from the misty, . He grabbed his Saw Cleaver and Hunter's Pistol, which he holstered. Once his equipment was with him, he exited the room and quietly shut the door behind him. Now, it was time to go to Charlie's room and give her his words.

He trekked for a little while until he went in front of Charlie and Vaggie's room. Just as he was about to knock, he breathed in while his eyes were closed. The Hunter was unsure if this was still a good idea. Nonetheless, he did what was clearly necessary for him and the Princess.

After some thought, the Hunter proceeded to knock on the door. As expected, Charlie opened the door, now wearing her usual outfit. "Oh. Hello, Hunter. I didn't expect you to be bright and early. I hope you feel better after what happened last night"

"Is it?" He questioned with a lace of dry sarcasm. "I'd like to apologise for that. I tend to be a person that likes to wake up early."

Charlie can't help but laugh slightly at his comment. "Oh. I never knew that." Her face turned serious as she knew why he had come to her room. "So, have you decided to take my offer?"

The man shook his head. "Yes. I'm going to heed your words and take the week off."

Again, the Hellborn Princess chuckled at hearing her title. Never had she heard him being so formal. "Oh, alright then. I guess I'll see you next week."

"Likewise," The Hunter responded in his cold yet empathetic tone. He saw it as an opportunity to give his journal to her. "Oh, and I want you to have this." He handed his journal to her.

Charlie looked at the object in interest. She raised an eyebrow at that. "What's this?"

"My journal," He retorted back in his usual tone. "If you want to understand why I acted like that to Sir Pentious, then you'll have your answers here."

"Oh…" She uttered in realisation. Without anything to say, she grabbed the Hunter's Journal and now had it in her hands. As she did, she sensed something wrong with it. "I could already feel something heavy within here, Hunter. Are you sure you want me to read it? It may contain some of your personal secrets."

"As I said before, you'll get your answers as to why I acted maliciously to Sir Pentious," The Hunter assured her.

The Princess of Hell looked back at him before looking at the journal she was carrying. "I…see…" She shifted her gaze to the Hunter. "So, when do you want me to read it?"

"Whenever you feel like it." He told her with a tinge of caution. "But there is something I must warn you. Once you read through it, there will be many questions you want me to answer." That raises suspicions for Charlie. She wanted to ask that but felt she needed to do it once she read his journal.

"Um, sure. I can do that," She said with uncertainty before she realised something she needed to tell him. "Oh, Sir Pentious will stay here while you're away."

The Hunter looked at her calmly. "Is that so?"

All Charlie could do was to nervously smile at his question. "Yeah… I think you'll get used to it once you're back. For now, I should allow you to get going. I will say that you're sorry after you're gone." The Hunter nodded before turning around and walked away, heading to the exit of the Hotel to go to who knows where.

Charlie was left alone in the doorway. She can't help but think about what he said earlier before looking at the journal he gave her. It was rather strange for someone to do such a thing. Then again, this was the Hunter, and he always tends to be vague. She looked at the book before looking over her shoulders to her empty room. Since Vaggie was busy doing some paperwork in her Office Room, the Princess knew she had some time to read his journal. She looked back at it but couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread and misery. "What kind of journal is this? Why does the Hunter carry this around?" She asked herself as she went back to her room and sat on her bed to read what was in his notebook.

Ninety-One Days remaining until the Next Extermination

Well, it looks like the Hunter may or may have made a decision that he is going to regret or not regretting it by giving that Journal to Charlie Morningstar. I wonder how that would go.

Next chapter, oh boy. It's gonna be a heavy one. I wonder what Charlie is going to read about the Hunter's Experience in the Night of the Hunt. Will she be taken back by the sins he committed? The horrors that the Healing Church and other factions had inflicted to the Yharnamites? Will she be unconscious where she somehow ends up in the Hunter's Dream?

HH: Heads up I don't know jack shit about proper PTSD treatment or how to help someone suffering from flashbacks. If someone does, feel free to call me a bitch and a liar in the comments, since I'll know you know what you're talking about.

HH: And our dear Hunter is one of the most unreliable narrators ever btw. He sees things differently than others do, so his POV differs greatly from everyone else. He's got the 'Master of Misery, Shadow the Edgehog' vibe, while everyone else is seeing Hell through their own colors of glasses. He thinks that his traumatic reactions are a weakness on his part, not knowing what PTSD is since Shellshock, the first time stress response was researched in a post traumatic situation, wasn't discovered until WW1, and even when it was first discovered they thought it was cowardice on the soldier's part.

HH: Also the vial in his pocket is currently all that's left of the curse of Yharnam. Why does he keep it in a fragile glass in his pocket, instead of just throwing it away the first chance he gets? Because the curse wants to be a fragile glass in the pocket of someone that's notorious for getting in fights that end with both him getting hit and blood getting everywhere, and it's bound to him by virtue of him consuming the majority of Yharnam's power, along with the creator of the curse in the first place. However, it failed to account for how bullshit-deep and waterproof his pockets are, so unless he himself opens it, there's not a chance it's going anywhere he doesn't want it to be.

I apologise if there were any Out Of Character Moments or any lore I fucked up, but I want to satisfy those who wants to read it by making a chapter the best I could while checking for any errors. Please feel free to give me constructive criticism to make further improvements.

With that said, I will see ya all in the next chapter, motherfuckers!

Chapter 9: Discovering

Planned this for a while. Also, I want to thank HalfWitHillbilly (mainly him) and Echo129 for their suggestions in a certain bit of this chapter. They are good at helping me. Now onto the chapter. 

A Hunter’s Guide for Running a Hotel

IX

Discovering

It was time for Charlie to finally read that notebook that the Hunter gave her not long before he left. She inspected it,  but the outside cover didn’t paint much of a picture aside from it being worn with use and stained with old, dried blood that she was able to sniff out.

The symbol on the front reminded her of a rune, but it didn’t match any of the ones she had ever seen. That made the insides questionable. But questionable or not she was doing this for the Hunter’s sake. She could only wonder what dark things the contents would be, to have made the Hunter who he was today.

The first page was already throwing flags.

To whoever reads this,

These are the sins I committed in my time in Yharnam.

Yharnam. So that was where he came from. But where exactly was Yharnam? Charlie could faintly remember hearing that name, but she can't place her finger as to where. She continued to read.

The place where I was going to find the cure for my illness, I did not expect the city to be so dark in the light of the cursed moon, but the sewers were darker still. This city was a bad idea to come to look  for my treatment. There were Beasts everywhere.

Charlie felt her brain pulse, then saw a vision of the Hunter, who was wearing some foreign garb, his face hidden with a hood, stop writing in the notebook. She could see it like a memory. He was in what looked like some strange medical clinic, abandoned and dark. There, she saw what looked like a werewolf devouring a corpse. It was… wrong. It was somehow less human than the Hellhounds, yet something about it made her eyes itch.

I died.

That monster pinned me to the ground and devoured me. I remembered screaming in pain…

 

She let out a gasp upon looking at what he wrote. "The Hunter…died?" If that was the case, he would have been in Hell by now. This story doesn’t add up, where did his equipment come from? Her mind pulsed again, then she saw.

But then I woke up. From a nightmare to a dream. I awoke in a field of flowers, with a workshop in front and graves all around. I saw these… creatures that offered me weapons and this notebook. I didn't know what to do with it. Gilbert, a man I met later, suggested that I write my thoughts whenever I have a bit of time. ‘To keep your mind’ he said. I would need it on this Night of the Hunt.

Charlie raised an eyebrow at the last part. A night of the hunt? What where they hunting? There was definitely something wrong and she needed to persist in reading the whole thing. Even if these visions were giving her a mild headache.

She flicked to a random page. As she did so, she found herself in a cemetery where the Hunter stood over a recently deceased Beast.

Killed him. Or whatever that could still be considered a human. He turned, right in front of me. From a deranged Hunter to a wild Beast in the blink of an eye. It's terrifying. To see what the Hunt can do first-hand... I pray that wherever this place leads me to-- I won't suffer a similar fate.

I confess I did not know what to make of him the first time-- but I've come to know he was the father of the same little girl I talked to at the window. 'Find my mother', she said... A Red Jewelled Brooch. Lord, what will I tell her? That her father went mad? That the only one she could trust this Night killed her father?

Charlie could feel her head start to pound. Turned? Beast? Was it like werewolves? But that thing from earlier was no wolf, something was not right.

Flicking through the pages, she saw another note. But the ink seemed scattered, like the Hunter had been crying when he wrote this entry. She found herself in the dark sewers of Yharnam, where the Hunter, who was completely covered in blood in his unique attire, held onto a blood-soaked white ribbon.

She's gone. Unable to believe her parents' death... I should've been there—No. I simply shouldn't have given the Brooch.

What an infection this is. To twist men's minds and flesh alike.

The Princess was pained to read this. She didn't know the Hunter had felt such heavy guilt in Yharnam. As much as she wanted to stop reading, she knew she couldn’t stop now.

Flicking a couple of pages…

An endless tomb of a dead civilization and their maddened queen…

A brief image of a strange, ruined dungeon appeared before her, and she bore witness to its many monsters. A great flaming hound, rotting giants covered with sharp blades, and a queen in white, stained in red. “Yharnam…. The Lost Queen!” She remembered now. An entire civilization had just… died. No one knew what had happened, and they never came to either Heaven or Hell. It was like they died, but their souls didn’t leave. From what she saw and read, that might have been the case.

Cold stone, but colder blood…

Charlie gaped at the size of a castle situated somewhere in the freezing cold. Yet, despite it looking abandoned, she saw the ghosts and corpses of the people that used to live in it roaming the palace before finding herself on the roof. A Martyr sat upon the throne, and behind the throne she saw a queen with a ragged dress and a metal mask. “Vilebloods… vampires in all but name. None of the ones I know look this bad though, how long have they been without fresh blood?”

I Finally learned what cursed this city. The Blood of a G̶̲̽r̵͕̽e̴̼̊a̸̩̚t̵͖͊ ̸̫̆O̵̠͠n̸̋ͅë̵̠́

Charlie’s headache spiked upon reading the last line of the notebook. However, being  the daughter of Lucifer, she was able to understand Eldritch. "Great One? What is that?" It reminded her of some of the older Sinners in Hell, who had rambled about dead Gods and eyes and rivers of blood. People thought their minds had finally cracked from their age, but Charlie saw it in a different light. Maybe, having been around so long, they started seeing things that others didn’t. She shuddered at the memory of some of the more… graphic descriptions.

ђє รקเ๔єг ฬคร ђเ๔เภ Շђє๓ Ŧг๏๓ ๓๏гՇคɭ єץєร, ๒ยՇ ภ๏ฬ เ รєє

She got her answer when she found herself on the surface of an endless, misty lake... Her eyes darted to a bloated, spider-like creature with many more eyes than it should. "So…this is a Great One?" She uttered in awe. It was barely comprehensible to Charlie, but she could feel that it was more than just a strange, unfathomably old creature. So this was one of the beings the older Sinners had seen. This was what cracked their minds for good. But… how did the Hunter survive? She turned to another page.

ฬђคՇ ฬє ฬєгє ภєשєг ๓єคภՇ Շ๏ รєє...

Charlie witnessed as, before her very eyes, all of the Kin that had been hidden by the Spider were made visible. There were hundreds, on the buildings, in the air, just watching the world below. However, she could sense that they weren’t quite Great Ones. They seemed Lesser in comparison. She could feel her headache begin to pick up even more, but she was in awe. “How did his mind not snap? I’m resistant to Eldritch, but even Dad wouldn’t be able to be here for long!” She would have to reevaluate him, there’s no way a mortal man could have survived this. With her head throbbing, she turned another page.

вяαιη σƒ α яσттє∂ gσ∂, мα∂∂єηιηg ιη αρρєαяαη¢є

This one was disgusting to look at. It was a gigantic rotting brain, covered in eyes and hair. "Just what am I looking at?! Another one of these Great One!?" Her headache intensified to a pounding drumbeat, but she persisted.

T̵h̴e̸ ̸m̵o̵s̴t̴ ̷a̵b̴o̷m̵i̸n̷a̷b̷l̸e̴ ̵b̶e̵a̸s̷t̵ ̵w̷i̷t̴h̸ ̵t̷h̷e̴ ̸m̸i̶n̸d̸ ̷o̷f̶ ̴a̴ ̸m̷a̴n̶

The Princess of Hell was horrified by what she saw. It was a large being that is a mixture of a man, beast, and horse. What unnerved her was the second mouth of the right side of its neck. It opened to reveal a set of multiple eyes. This was the fate of clerics? It was ironic how the holiest Hunters turned into the vilest Beasts. And somehow, it had regained its sanity in its last moments. The willpower required... Not wanting to look at this page anymore, she quickly flicked to yet another unfortunate one.

T̸̛̛̗̦̜̑ḩ̸̼͎̉̚e̸̢͔͔͑̑ ̸̱͛̔͂R̴̩̈e̸̯͑͝s̵̘͒e̴̦͗ä̷̘̜́̊̕r̵̯͚̓̇͝ḉ̴̗̼̈́h̵̫͖̽̂̾ ̸̙͔̮̂͐͘Ḧ̴̪̯́̕a̵̧̪̎̑̍l̸̢͊͜l̸͈̼̹͑̔̋.̵͉̆

̶̘͚̔̿͆H̴̗̹̬̄e̸̳̟͙̋̃r̵̖͇̯̾e̵͚̭̳̐̈́ ̷͖͛͗̑Į̷̬̰̆͂̈́ ̶̠̠̈̈́͜l̶̤̟̉͝e̶̡͈̥͐͌͂ȧ̵͍ŗ̴̛̊n̵͉̙͎͗ë̴̬́͒͗d̵͈̹̔̕̚͜ ̷̩̜͔͒̀t̶̘̥̽̆h̴͙̰̏͋e̷͓̲̗͆̓ ̸̳̕i̸̪̜̟͋͒̆n̴̳͖̺̉̓h̸̟̾͝ṵ̴̓m̶̩͉̞̂̏͘a̷̧̭̘̽n̷̹̺̂e̶͉̒̊̿ ̶̛͉͒͌a̸͈̙͒͆͒c̷͙̦̊̀ṭ̷̛̫͒͝ĭ̸̬̯͓̈́o̴̢̒n̷̻̄̌š̷̮̕̚ ̷̨̭̈͑͝ͅẗ̴̖͈͈́h̸̡̫̍̽͆a̵̢͑t̴̼͋ͅ ̶͎̍t̵̝͚͌̿h̵̡͗̾͠e̸̺͉͎̾͠ ̶̩̂̉C̷̟̽h̵̡̏̐̿u̸̢̜͛̒r̶͉̥̔c̶̩̮̞̈́̎h̸̳͝ ̵̨̫̒̒t̴̥̉̍̕a̷͖̾k̷͕͕̹̋͝e̴̢̜̐͠ ̵͕̅͗͘t̵̩̓̈́o̷̦̍̃͜ ̵̹͖͂͒â̸̻̈́͗c̴̨̿h̴̦͕͓̋̍i̷̟̟͓̋ë̷̙͓́v̷̛̞̠̐ẻ̵͕̱̪̍̋ ̵̰̞̀̕͠a̵̢̩̍s̸͇͊c̵̥͓̆ẹ̴͉̘̽̔͘ṅ̸̦̫̝̂ṡ̸̗͓ͅi̸͈̗̇̆̆o̸̥̜͒n̸̫̰̈́.̵̙̲̗͂͂ ̵̤̞̖͊ ̷͖̊

̸̮͇̇̍͝Ț̷͓́͂͐ḩ̷̬̻̓̊e̸͇̹͇͊ ̵̡̤̣̌͝p̶͖̯͒a̸̮͌͑t̸͍̘͘͠i̸̞̗̊̀͝ͅe̷̙̣͑n̵͔̐̎̈́t̷̨̲̞͂̈́͘s̵̥̓̒̚ͅ ̶͚͇̐̓t̶͇̟̑̚ḧ̷͎́ĕ̷̡̄̏ȑ̴͇̞̘ẻ̶͇̮̲̎ ̴̱͚̏́͝ḥ̶̂̕a̵̤͛d̵̰͇̣̿͛ ̴̢̹͗̚͝t̶̺͙̲̅h̶̯͖̱͐e̵̡͂ì̷̬r̴̞̆̓͘ ̶̞͚̊h̷̩̥̻́͝ë̴͔̰̠͋̀â̴̳̗̆̕d̷̺͌̓͝s̵̡̤̔͌ ̴͙̑̓̈b̸̝̀̊l̶̰̈̽ͅơ̷͍̼̾̊a̵̯̯̝̔t̶̤͒̍e̶̥̲̐d̵͖̀.̴̰̼̙̏̍͘ ̶̞̄M̷̺̪̏o̷̥͝s̶̟̜͋t̷̰̭̄̇͒ ̴̩͓̈o̶̡̳̓͗͝f̷͎͇̿̿͑ ̴͎͆͊͊t̴̜̰̱͛̒̋h̵̛̻͗͝e̸̤̓m̸͍̯̫͗̄ ̴̫̼͆̂ŵ̶̘͙̲̓e̵̞̠̭͒r̴̫̭̩͊̍e̸͕̘̎͊ ̸̬̫̚ͅm̷̳͖̊̀ͅî̶̙n̸̟͐d̸̡̡̡͛l̸͙̄͆͋ë̵̡͎̩́͝s̸̘̀ṡ̴͖̹ ̶̟̿ḧ̴͚̘́̎͋û̷͎̱̚͝s̵̢͂̏͘k̷̥̼̉͐̽ṣ̴͇̉.̴̨͇͈̍

T̴̞͚̰̎̉h̵͔̄e̷̩̽ ̶̜̦̈́̏̈́c̸̩̬̠̐̋à̵̹ṵ̸̾s̷͔̺̎̑̉e̸̩̪̍̂͜ ̴͕̅̕o̸̙̲̥̾̅̉f̸͉̺̽͝ ̶̖̪̩̍͐͘o̵̫̬͋ư̴͔͐̿r̵̡̦̱͐͗̚ ̷̛͉̀̀w̵̹̎̃ö̸̙̻́̂ḛ̵̹͍̔s̷̹̀͋͂,̷̣͆ͅ ̶͖́̈́t̷̰͓͒h̵̢̩͂̽ḛ̶̿ ̶͚̺͛ṣ̸̛͛p̸͔̠͑͛̌͜ő̷̥̱̄ì̶̛͙̜͖l̸̗̿̔͜͠ë̶͖́́d̵͉̃ ̸̨̯͎̆͂b̸͕͇̅͊̀ḹ̵̅̇o̶̡͚͔͗̐ö̴̱̟̭d̶̖͓̘̿̄ ̶̡̺̘̒͌o̸̱̒͠f̶͈̖̱͆̍͝ ̵̫̆̈́͠a̶͕̹͑͝ ̵͚̂d̷̪͖̿̚e̸̟̖̯̾͊̆a̵̠͋̐d̵̛͎͙̺͊͘ ̶̦͚̪̑̀ģ̸̗̟͒͒o̸͓͖̒̇͠d̴͇͂͌̐

Charlie began to hyperventilate at the words she read. This Eldritch or whatever was becoming too much for her to handle. But she had to persist. she managed to flick through one more page. "One more…just one…more…"

M̴͎̟̭̓̑̀y̸̧͎͐ ̴͚͈̆͠f̵̣̽͜a̷̮̼͍̋u̷̳͐l̸̞̦̏̿̚t̴̳̻̋͛ ̵̩͍̑m̵̜̳̹̂̄y̸̥͙̳̔̈͗ ̶̳̟͆̉f̶̣̫̫̐̍͊a̶͈̿ū̴̹̣̦͝l̴̢̠͎͑͑͛t̷̞̯͐̒ ̸̺͗̐͘a̶̳̅͂͠l̸͎̍̒͝l̴̟̝̕ ̴̧̺̒m̴͇̦͘y̸̨̧͚̾̏̃ ̵͈̄̋͠f̵̖̙̬̿̾̂a̵̳͔͂̇͝ŭ̷̧́l̷̦͍͊̚t̶͖̮͗̒̒!̶̢̙͆ ̵̰̦̋̊̈Ț̷͗̆͜h̴̘̩̳̓̽̔ĕ̴̢̛̅y̸̗̓̂'̴̫̓͛̾ḓ̶̨̛̺̾ ̸̯͒̽s̴͚̪͉͝t̷̳͆͠i̸̞͌̒l̷̳͌̋̇l̴̨͕̅̍̒ ̵̯̗͌͂̚b̷̭͚̓̏͌e̸̜͓̻̽͂ ̶̱́̐ą̵̉̈́̌l̴̹̮̂i̶̱͋v̸̡̹͔͌͊̌e̵̝̿̏͝ ̵̪̽̍i̴̺̚f̴͇͋ ̵̖̜͖̓̿́i̸̢̻̗̊ṫ̷̡̙͕̎ ̷̧͑͑w̸̖̌̋̒ẽ̸̖̜̜̈̅r̴̘̗̆̋̒ȩ̸̖̋n̷̢͆'̴̯̲͐t̴̼̀͂͑ ̶̛͎̭̃͠f̵̙͘ö̸̟̞̲́̓́ŗ̴̳͉́̈́ ̸̫̘̓m̷̱͍͓̀͊ḛ̴̳̐.̷̣̼͔̓̔

̷̢̌I̸̞̝͌͘ ̸͖͛͘ͅc̶̛̗̊̐a̴͈̲̣̋n̷̘͕̽́'̴̼̃͒̂t̴͛̋͜͜ ̸̜̐ḡ̵̰r̶̻̪̈́i̴͓̤̾̀ͅe̸͍̳̓ͅv̷̦̋͑̀͜e̶̟̤̹͘͝ ̵̺͆t̶̞̳̅̕h̴̛̻̹̓̋e̷̫̥͛ḯ̵̩̬̚r̸͚̬̾́͝ ̷̗͕̐͗ͅd̶̼̹͒̓̈́e̶͔̬͙͗a̶̮͙͔̋̌ṱ̴̨̫͂h̶̰̔͗s̴̠̖̈́ ̷̥̙̘̅̐̉r̶̰̲̿̂ͅȉ̸̖́͝g̶̳̼̹͠h̷̲̎t̷͙́ ̸̯̝̊̓n̴̤͑͊́o̸̖͓͊w̴̭̻͉̐.̶͙̰͐ͅ ̸̺̳̦̾̽̈́D̸̺͈̖̑̃a̶͖̚w̶̢͉̻̿ṇ̸̩͉̐ ̷̬̎̋̊ì̵̮̭s̷̜̫̯͂̆͐ ̷̢͙̤̓̄̒a̴̲̋p̵̜͚͊̊p̸̢̆r̸͉̄ỏ̴̡͝ā̸̬̫͈́c̸͕̲̋̕h̴̯̗͇͐͑ï̷͈̐n̷̜̻̱͗͒g̴͔̜͇̋,̸̣͍͇̔̈ ̵̫̼̋̈̄å̶̡n̵̰̈d̸͓̰͈̈̌ ̷͉̰͆Ǵ̶͈̙͝e̸̞̹͑̑̕ḧ̷̪̼̺́r̴̞̗͉̅̃m̵̮̄́̒ả̴̰̹͇̊n̷̥̻̈́̂͜ ̵̧͈̜͐ä̴̯̎͊ͅw̸̗̑̈́̌ã̸̢̡̞̀i̶̼̎̅t̷̡͕̎̄͝s̷̗̹͓͑̀̆ ̶̠̼̊̃̀m̷̙̂̽͛e̷͓͔͒̏̕ ̴̯̃ă̶̫̚t̸̪̎̀̕ ̴̻̱̦̎t̶̢̬͛̇ḩ̸̫̞̌e̶̝͚͕̐ ̵̪̌̄͘G̵̘̼̈͒̓r̶͙̒e̴̫͗͜ä̶͎̣͍t̶͍̔ ̴̮̝͗̈́T̴͍̲̏̐͑ȓ̶̤̈́͂͜é̴͕ë̵͚́͂.̶͍̆̀

This memory was too much. The pain was too much.

The Princess of Hell slammed the book shut and set it down firmly. She felt her headache, a roaring pain, settle into a mild throbbing. She felt like there was something moving in her head from the things she had read. Trying so very desperately not to think of eyes popping up like daisies on her brain, she refocused on what mattered.

 "The Hunter… he's been through so much pain. He’s lost so much. How could anyone smile through that?" She had to help him. Charlie got up from where she sat and walked to the door. "I…need to…see him…now…"

She managed a few steps, then dropped to her knees and fell unconscious. A few minutes later, Messengers popped up on the side of the Hunter's notebook and saw her lying motionless on the ground. They eventually left to inform him what had happened, but not before taking the notebook with them.

-Scene Change-

Vaggie yawned as she walked into the lobby. The paperwork always made her feel tired, but it was finally done. Entering the main room, she saw Angel lying on the couch scrolling Voxtagram as per usual, Husk at his bar attempting to kill his immortal liver, Niffty cleaning every corner of the room, and Alastor outside having his cup of coffee, somehow keeping that tight, lipless smile even while taking a sip. Two people were missing. "Has anyone seen Charlie and Hunter?"

The Porn Star knew where one was at least. "Nah, just missed him. Hunter left the hotel, but said he'd be back in a week." The manager felt he needed time to cool off after the stunt he pulled yesterday. "As for Charlie… no clue. Probably still asleep."

Vaggie was concerned by this. "Charlie never oversleeps! She is always up at this time."

Husk, just wishing they'd shut up, took another swing of his alcohol. "I wouldn't say so. Why don't you check up on her then?"

"She is your girlfriend, after all," Niffty said as she popped out from a cupboard. “Imagine how dreamy it would be for her gallant knight to swoop in while she sleeps, vulnerable and—" Vaggie kicked the cupboard closed, but could still hear Niffty giggling away, quietly joined by Angel, and (the traitor) Alastor.

The manager scoffed at their words, but they did bring up a point. "Fine. I'll go check on her." She left the lobby to head to her destination.

Vaggie may be putting up a strict and disciplined individual, but Husk knew she was both concerned about her girlfriend and upset that the Hunter hadn't informed her of his suspicions beforehand. "Vaggie would have shown her true character by now."

Angel agreed with him. "Yeah. Viagraboobs uses that façade to keep Sinners like us in line. That includes Mister Hunter."

The clean-freak maid giggled at that. “Mister Hunter is a bad boy. I doubt she'd ever give him to her demands."

Husk knew those two would be butting heads for a while, but still felt that he was missing something. Their animosity seemed a bit mire… instinctive. Like they felt wrong around each other. At first, he thought it was simply due to their personalities, but the Hunter had his hackles raised too when they first met. Something about those eyes… Vaggie needed to be careful around him, the Hunter was something else entirely.

Speaking of the girl, she was on her way to Charlie's room. Along the way, she was deep in her thoughts. "Why would she oversleep? She wanted to speak to the Hunter after he nearly killed Pentious this morning." She already knew that the strange, infuriating man left but didn't see the reason why the Princess would go to her room. "But that isn't important right now. What is important is to get Charlie up, and today's activity going,” she said aloud. 

She approached the door that led to the room. It was utterly silent. Which raises concern. Charlie, the angel that she was in a figurative sense, snored. Loudly. And if she wasn’t snoring, she was talking to herself or reading aloud. She opened the door. "Charlie! Are you okay, Hon? Everyone is waiting—"

She didn't finish. Charlie, on the floor, motionless. Her heart stopped. Time stopped. Then it started again.

“CHARLIE!” The Hotel Manager rushed towards the Princess's side and knelt down to her before shaking her. "Charlie, Charlie, wake up! What happened, who could have done this to you?!" There was no response from the Hellborn, she wouldn't wake up and it was scaring her. 

She scooped Charlie up as quickly and gently as she could, then rushed to the main room and cried out for help. While almost everyone gathered around, she could barely keep her thoughts straight. "What happened who did this Charlie Wake up please Charlie WAKE UP WAKE UP.” 

In the haze of her panic, one name rang clear. Hunter. He did this, he had to. She had to find him, NOW.

-Scene Change-

Charlie had her blazer taken off and was laid on the main couch. Vaggie was tending to her with a blanket and ice pack given from Razzle and Dazzle. She felt the Princess’ forehead with the back of her hand. Hot. Bad. She placed the ice pack on her forehead, then leaned back to give her some room. As she tended to her girlfriend, everyone was watching with varying levels of concern.

Razzle and Dazzle were beside themselves with worry, whining by Charlie’s side like dogs. Angel was worried about Charlie’s safety (but his free crash pad being compromised). Husk was worried about Vaggie’s reaction (and his stash of alcohol disappearing). Niffty was too busy laughing at something no one else could see, and Alastor straight up did not care. If anything, this was good for him, maybe the Fallen Angel will make a rash decision he can capitalize on.

Angel couldn’t help but crack a joke to ease the tension. “Y’know, it would have been unfortunate if the Hunter–” 

Vaggie snarled at the Porn Star. “DON’T even bring it up! I’m already stressed enough at the moment!” Angel slowly put his hands up and walked away like she was gonna tear out his throat. She might have if he riled her up anymore.

 “Aren’t we all?” Husk chimed in while pouring several shots of whisky.

Alastor seemed to join in the wagon as he leaned on his microphone-cane. “Seems like Miss Morningstar has had a nightmare of some sort in her sleep.”

Nifty added something. “More like a wet dream!” This time no one kicked her, but she still ran away laughing.

The Manager scoffed at the Radio Demon’s claim. “Sí, como si eso importara!” She muttered sarcastically. Then, Vaggie heard a pained groan, and turned to see her girlfriend twitching in her sleep. She grabbed one of her hands with her own and held it close. “Just hang in there, hon.”

-?-

Charlie’s eyes stirred as she looked up to a…gray, cloudy sky? 

She sat up slowly and looked around. She saw white flowers and tombstones, and trees so large she couldn’t see the tops. A strange, burned building was in the distance. “What…is this place?” Already, she got goosebumps being at this place.

The Princess turned to the burned building, hoping to make sense of this place. At it’s side, under a great tree, she found a new tombstone at the top of the hill next to an old, abandoned wheelchair. She noticed that, while worn, it still had its metal finish and was not rusted. Walking towards the tombstone, the Princess of Hell saw a name she recognized.  Leaning closer to the tombstone, she read what was written.

HERE LIES GEHRMAN, THE FIRST HUNTER

A DEAR FRIEND WHO WAS CURSED TO WATCH THE DREAM

NOW HE DREAMS NO MORE

As Charlie read it, she failed to notice a pair of light footsteps closing in. 

Then…

“Greetings, good Princess.”

Looks like the Princess of Hell is in the Hunter’s Domain, The Hunter’s Dream. And looks like she is about to meet a dear friend of his. 

Crimson Soldat: Can;t believe this took a little while to write. I can’t believe I got some help with someone who knows much more than more. Still, I am grateful for his help. 

HalfWitHillbilly: Crimson writes the words, I make the edits. Chapters 7 and 8 had edited bits by me, and me and Crimson practically co-wrote 9 and this chapter. Glad to make a difference.

CS :Damn, I am going to like the next chapter. I feel like we’re going to have some lore dump. And how it will affect the rest of the story.

HH : Aye, the Doll has patience and sanity(?) The Hunter lacks. She’ll gladly answer Charlie’s questions.

With that said, I will see ya all in the next chapter, motherfuckers!

Chapter 10: A Princess and A Doll

Whoops! Just published the wrong chapter on the wrong story. Don't worry, it's fixed now!

Sorry about that wacko12!

Now then,

Lore dumping, here we come!

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

X

The Princess and a Doll

Charlie, who was distracted by reading the tombstone, jumped upon hearing the voice. Whipping around, she saw someone she didn't expect. The Princess of Hell recognized this woman, who was about an inch or two shorter than her, was not a human or sinner. She was a Doll, just like all of her father's creations.

"Oh, uh…" She spoke nervously to her while letting out a frightened wave. "Hi!" She took a few seconds to register what the Doll had said. It freaked her out. "Wait, you know who I am!?"

"I do. The Good Hunter has told me so much about you. Miss Charlie Morningstar," The Doll responded. Charlie noticed her accent was Slavic with a melodic uptilt.

Now, it was the perfect time to get some questions answered. "Who are you? Where am I? What is this place?"

Despite her panic, the Doll calmly responded. "I am a Doll and you found yourself in the Hunter's Dream. This Dreamscape where Hunters can seek refuge." Charlie's eyes widened as she remembered this was the exact same place she learned from the Hunter's notebook. Including this Doll.

Naturally, the Princess blinked a few times. "A refuge for Hunters?" She was reminded of her hotel. Unlike it, this Dream was... Calmer. Less violent. Still, there were more questions she wanted to ask. "What were the Hunters? What was the plague that created the Beasts? What are Great Ones? How many were there? How many times did he die?"

The Doll didn't blame Charlie for asking that many questions. "Good Princess. If you are tense, then how about having a cup of tea? It could help with your stress"

The Princess of Hell thought on it and immediately accepted her offer. "That would be lovely. There's so many questions I want to ask. You are his best friend, so I trust you."

The Doll chuckled upon hearing this. "Well, we shouldn't be here. Come. The Workshop isn't far from here."

-Scene Change-

Inside of the reconstructed Workshop, a table had been set as Charlie sat on a chair placed by the Doll. She scanned the room and saw many things. A table to modify weapons, an altar, a set of bookstands. What made it relaxing was the sound of fire crackling near the fireplace.

The Doll placed a teacup right in front of her. She poured the kettle to fill the teacup before placing it to the side. She walked to the opposite site and sat. "Your tea is ready, your majesty."

Charlie held the warm cup in her hands and stared at the liquid. It seemed to be Green Tea by the looks of the color. She put the teacup close to her lips and blew a few times before taking a sip. As she did, she suddenly felt calm. "This…tea is good!"

"I'm glad you like it, good Princess," The Doll commented plainly. Now, it was the right time to resume their discussion. "Now, what are the questions you have asked me before?"

She had so many. Who was the Hunter? Where was Yharnam? What were the Great Ones? How did the Hunter get to Hell? How many times did he–

Charlie took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. "Let's start small." She looked at the Doll. "Who are you?"

The Doll smiled kindly. "I was created by my master, Gehrman, in the likeness of one of his closest students. From what I heard, he was greatly pained by her choice to leave the Hunters."

Charlie, trying not to think about the implications of an old man with a doll of a young woman, moved on to the next question. "Where is this place?"

The Doll looked around the surprisingly clean cemetery while responding. "This is the Hunter's Dream. Originally, Gehrman was the host for many years, but it has been the Good Hunter's for quite some time now. It is from here that he can recuperate after a long day."

Charlie was surprised to hear that the Hunter was capable of resting. She didn't think he'd ever taken a day off. Wait, neither had she. And she had essentially passed out in her room, meaning that if Vaggie went looking for her- "Oh no!"

The Doll heard her speak. "What is it?"

"If I'm here, then Vaggie would have found me on the floor by now." The Princess said, suddenly worried.

"The manager?" The Doll inquired.

"Yes! She doesn't like it when anything harms me. She'll overreact and want to personally deal with the Hunter." She started to panic "How can I–"

Ghastly, gurgling groans were heard in front of her. She looked down at the table and was mildly startled to see a cluster of disfigured creatures spawn from a pool of blue liquid, holding out a pen and a paper. "Who are they?"

"Ah, the Little Ones," The Doll said with a joyous smile. She reached her hand over to them, and a few wrapped their tiny, wet, misshapen hands around her fingers. "Inhabitants of the Dream. They are the Good Hunter's personal Messengers who often delivers him goods and supplies during his trip in Hell. Speak words they do not. But still, aren't they sweet?"

Charlie didn't respond to that. To her, these Messengers reminded her of her great aunt's ugly cats…wait. "Hold on…" She looked down at them. "Messengers? You can send anything from here to Hell?"

They clapped in response while letting out a chorus of happy groans. Without a second to think, she grabbed the objects presented and immediately started writing. After a minute of furious but dignified writing (Dad wouldn't be too happy if her first message from a different realm had poor handwriting), she folded the paper and handed it to them.

"Here, give this to Vaggie." The Messengers grabbed the paper and disappeared into the blue liquid they sprouted from, which receded upon their departure. Once that was over, she looked back at the Doll to resume their conversation.

MOMENTS LATER…

Vaggie had held on to her girlfriend's hand for about ten minutes now. Her twitching had subsided, but all the same she wasn't waking up.

All of a sudden, something poked her feet, making her look down. There, she saw a folded piece of paper that appeared out of nowhere.

"The Hell?" She uttered under her breath as she picked it up and unfolded it. There she could not believe what she saw.

Vaggie,

I know this looks strange.

But I need you to listen.

Whatever you are going to do,

DON'T make a rash choice of finding the Hunter.

I know I sound vague,

But I need you to listen to me once I wake up.

Charlie

The Manager couldn't believe what she read. So she didn't. The Hunter was going to pay no matter what.

-BACK TO THE HUNTER'S DREAM-

The Doll smiled serenely, not at all phased by the brief moment of panic Charlie had. It was then she decided what to ask. "How do you know the Hunter?"

The Doll looked off to the side, as if in remembrance. "He is a close associate of Gehrman. As such, I take care of him whenever he visits the Dream. He has been doing it even after freeing Gehrman from his binds."

So, she had known him for a while. Charlie decided to move on to another question. "Why did the Hunter go to Yharnam?"

The Doll smiled sadly at that question "He was seeking medication in the great city of Yharnam to treat his illness. He found it, but it came under the condition that he would become a Hunter under the contract and was given blood ministration treatment."

As she mentioned it, Charlie continued. "Blood Ministration? What is that?"

"It is a process of curing disease and ailments in Yharnam through blood transfusion and bloodletting. The Healing Church had attracted many. Even outsiders like the Good Hunter." She solemnly responded.

That name made the Princess question it. "What is the Healing Church?"

"A group that aimed to help Yharnam through bloodletting. They were founded by a Byrgernwerth Scholar, Lawrence, who, unfortunately met his end." The Doll informed her. "That wasn't their only speciality. They also had Hunters to deal with the Beasts plaguing Yharnam."

Charlie was surprised to hear this. "The Church had Hunters too?"

The Doll nodded. "Yes. And they were led by Ludwig, who was the First Hunter of the Church."

The Princess of Hell shivered at that name. She clearly remembered his appearance. "Ludwig? Wasn't that…that… thing that the Hunter fought under the cathedral?"

"Yes," The Doll replied, seeing the horrors in the other girl's eyes. "He was the best Church Hunter and led others to hunt Beasts. It is said, however, that clerics turn into the vilest Beasts."

There it was again. It was at this time the Princess decided to ask a big question. "I keep hearing that word, but what is a Beast?"

"They are people that have been badly affected by Yharnam's blood. It eventually became a plague that ravaged throughout the city." The Doll spoke, her tone getting a bit serious. "It warped them, both in mind and flesh, until they were no longer man but slavering, starving Beasts."

Charlie gulped at the description. She was almost afraid to ask. But she had to anyway. "What kind of disease is that?! That sounds closer to demon magic!"

This time, the Doll's tone became serious. "Yes. The Beast plague was at the hands of the Great Ones. A curse to remind them about the consequences of using stolen blood."

Again, that gets the Princess interested. "I keep hearing that term, what is a Great One?"

Charlie wasn't ready for what the Doll was about to say. "They are unique gods that exist outside our realm. Some watched over Yharnam and did as they saw fit to it. They would alter space and reality to their own will."

That was enough to let her blow a raspberry. "Why did they want Yharnam so badly? What was so important about it?"

"The Great Ones have a… complicated past with the city of Yharnam. Their personal grudge for the new residents, mainly the Healing Church, mismanagement of their blood, clashes with their love of the Pthumerian people, their old cults, and... well, I suppose sheer apathy with the whole situation. They are very long lived after all. Any grudges and favors would simply be forgotten. So, instead of burying it further or helping the people, they simply watched the city crumble to ruin."

The Princess of Hell was caught off guard by this statement. "That's… insane. What about the one that caused the plague?"

Here, the Doll had a pinched expression. A troubled answer. "The one known as Kos washed ashore to a fishing hamlet, where the people, for a time, worshiped her dying form. In return, Kos' pained breath granted them talent in the Arcane, along with the love of the motherly god. When the Hunters came, they took many things with them, including the lives of Kos and her children, the arcane gifts they were granted, and the secrets of her blood."

Charlie was flummoxed by this answer. She didn't think it was possible for those of Eldritch nature to die. But it seems the Hunter subverted her expectations once again. Still, she had more questions. "So the plague was caused by Kos dying?"

"In a way. Her blood, as the Scholars of Byrgenwerth found, carried great power within it. Anyone that carried even the tiniest drop would become healed of the many afflictions that plagued the lands. For a time, Yharnam was the capital city of blood ministration, and many became drunk off its power."

"But the Great Ones became angered by their frivolous use of what they had stolen. So they cursed the blood, and all who carried it. It became the Beast plague, affecting all who dared partake in the blood. The Holy Church was cursed the most, due to their unspeakable crimes with the blood, and their many attempts to become Gods themselves." She added.

"From that point, all clerics became cursed with the most horrific Beastly appearances. While there were many in Yharnam that did not partake heavily of the blood, they were not safe either. Their changes, while slower, still affected their minds and bodies. To say that there were few truly horrific monsters in Yharnam would be a lie," The Doll solemnly finished. "The Good Hunter told me how he died many different ways during his time there."

Charlie felt as though it was the right time to pop that question. "You say he died, but then he came back? How does that work?"

Seeing the confused look in her eyes, the Doll eventually gave her answer. "Some Hunters, like the Good Hunter himself, have been chosen to be resurrected by Flora, a surprisingly merciful Great One. They would die in some horrific way, and wake here, as if they had a nightmare."

Again, the Princess gulped at the thought of the Hunter dying over and over. Ripped apart by claws, punctured with many teeth, decapitated, eaten alive, cut and stabbed and bruised and burned countless times. That led to one final question. "So much pain… How did he do it?"

"Persistence," The other woman responded plainly. "No matter how many times he died, he continued to trek through the night until it reached dawn. Over time, his mental fortitude and his tolerance for pain hardened, and his skills with the many weapons he acquired became second nature."

Feeling the rush of questions depleted, she'd felt that Charlie wanted to know about her Good Hunter personally. "You seem to have thought about the Good Hunter. Tell me, please, what do you think of him?"

"The Hunter," The Princess suddenly spoke while staring at her teacup. "He…He isn't the kind that socializes with the other guests, and I initially thought he was a lost sinner. There are times where his temper got the best of him, like him attacking Sir Pentious yesterday. I know he didn't do it for his own entertainment. Rather, he seemed rattled, as if he remembered a painful event." Her voice turned sad. "After reading his journal, I finally understand the pain and sadness he carries." She looked at the Doll with remorse in her eyes. "I should not ask this from you. But what do you see within him? Who is the Hunter?"

The Doll sighed fondly. "He is unrelenting in his actions and ruthless to his enemies. He is paranoid by everything he sees. He has spent more time alive fighting for his life than he has with civilized people. He has a tendency to react harshly to perceived betrayal. Even to the point of brutality." Charlie knew most of this, but still couldn't believe she was hearing all of this coming from her mouth.

"Yet, from what I know of his heart, he is a kind, humble, and gentle soul who has been tortured and broken by his long night in Yharnam. He wishes to change his ways, yet his crippling paranoia and the potential that the bloodlust returns always haunt him. Even to the point that he will distance himself from people he trusts if he thinks he could endanger them," the Doll finished.

The Princess of Hell took the Doll's response piece by piece. He seemed as though that deep down he is a good person. Yet, he is haunted by his past. "I see…" She empathetically muttered.

"The Hunter told me about this Hotel you set up. Where it potentially offers redemption, and how you offered him a job." The Doll inquired.

"What are you trying to say?" Charlie asked.

"I am saying that the Good Hunter is grateful that he is offered to be in such a place." The Doll spoke with gratitude.

"But the Hotel is trying to redeem Sinners to go to Heaven." Charlie clarified. "Why would the Hunter think that it would help him?"

"The Good Hunter seeks redemption nonetheless." The Doll plainly answered. "His guilt, his pains, his losses. He yearns for his past chains to be unshackled. After all, doesn't your hotel embody the concept?"

"I…" The Princess was lost for words. This Doll was right. She had an ambitious goal of redeeming Sinners. But redemption from past traumas, especially the ones the Hunter has? That is going to be difficult. But she would try her best- no, she would make him smile again. Along with the rest of the Hotel, she would get them all into Heaven.

"Um, Miss Doll, how do I exit from the Dream?"

The Doll looked over her shoulder, making the Princess look at something she hadn't noticed before. A strange purple lamp at the top of the stairs. "You may use that to return to the waking world."

"Thank you dearly," Charlie bowed in gratitude despite the confusion she had suffered. Before she left, she had one more question. "Will I be able to return here? I mean, this is the Hunter's place after all."

"That depends on the Good Hunter," The Doll assured her. "Now, you should go. Your friends will worry that you won't wake."

"Thank you. I will think about what you have said." She said before approaching the strange lamp. For some odd reason, she felt as though she had to put her hand in front of it, and a bright purple light shined from the lamp, making her close her eyes. Then, she turned to mist.

-?-

Angel and Husk tried to talk down Vaggie, who had her spear in her hands, from leaving the hotel to find the Hunter. "Look, Vigana. I know you're all hooked up at the Hunter–"

Vaggie didn't let him finish. "OUT OF MY WAY! The Hunter is responsible for this and I will find him and tear the answers out of him if I have to!"

Husk didn't see it that way. "With what? Your strength?! That spear?! You know what he has, that monster of a blade and his guns! You've seen what he can do with them, there is no way you're going to subdue him with that!"

"I have to try, he will pay for this." She spoke through gritted teeth, which would have popped from the strain if they were anything less than steel.

As this was happening, both Alastor and Niffty couldn't help but chuckle at the scene before them. "Seems there is a ruckus now, hm?" The Radio Demon commented.

The clean-freak maid laughed at this. "More like a family drama, Alastor! HAHAHAHAHA!" She laughed insanely.

Suddenly, all heard a groan coming from Charlie. All heads turned to face the couch, where they saw her slowly and groggily sitting up on the couch with blurry eyes. With a few blinks, she woke up fully, and saw everyone in the lobby. "Uh, guys?"

"CHARLIE!" She turned to Vaggie, who dropped her spear to the ground, and hurled herself towards her girlfriend. As she landed, she tightly hugged her while trembling with worry and barely containing her tears. "Charlie! Thank God you're awake! I was worried that you wouldn't wake up, I found you on the floor and the Hunter had left but you were the last one who saw him and-"

The Princess smiled back at her lover's panicked stammering before she proceeded to hug her back, cutting off her worried voice. This lasted for a bit until the other girl let go and had a serious look. "Charlie. What did the Hunter do to you that caused you to be passed out?"

Her question caused Charlie to look away despite the seriousness of her girlfriend's voice. Her eyes were filled with regret as she was about to inform what occurred. "No, the Hunter technically didn't cause me to pass out. Reading his journal made me pass out, turns out he writes in Eldritch but after I read it…" She let out a breath "I always knew the Hunter was carrying some deep emotional pain and trauma."

She looked back at Vaggie. "But now I've come to realize just how much worse it actually is."

Everyone caught wind of this. Husk raised an eyebrow. "What was in that journal that spooked you so bad?"

Angel couldn't agree more with the Bartender. "Yeah. We knew he went through some shit, but you're telling us now that Mister Hunter was through the shit to end all shit, what didja see?"

Charlie wouldn't dare tell them the contents of the journal, not after she barely survived reading it. "There are some things that should be kept secret. But all I can say is it's something beyond our comprehension."

The Radio Demon hummed in interest. This certainly caught his attention. "Something beyond our comprehension you say." 'My specialty,' he thought to himself.

Again, Vaggie didn't believe a word to what she said. "Well, whatever the Hell that means, the Hunter still needs to pay for–"

"I won't let you."

Her girlfriend was surprised to hear this response. "Charlie?"

This time, the Princess placed her hands over Vaggie's and gripped them firmly. "I won't allow you to go after the Hunter. He's been through so much and I don't want any of us triggering his trauma. I know this is all confusing. But please, DON'T go after the Hunter. You don't have to read the journal!" After what she'd been through, she didn't want Vaggie to suffer the same fate.

"I…" Vaggie tried to protest but knew Charlie had a point. She let out a stressful sigh. "I see your point. I promise that I won't go after the Hunter, but I am going to talk to him about his actions." Guilt bloomed across her face. "Still, it is hard to believe that he didn't cause you to pass out, especially after disappearing like that."

Charlie frowned at hearing this. She knew that her girlfriend was being overprotective. But at least now she won't be violent towards him. "I know." She glanced at the door and wondered where the Hunter would go to calm down for a week. 'I should probably talk to him in private once he gets back.'

-Scene Change-

SOMEWHERE IN PENTAGRAM CITY…

MOMENTS AFTER CHARLIE WENT UNCONSCIOUS…

The Hunter walked for who knows how long. He needed this after the fiasco he pulled last night. Those eyes on the snake… it was too similar to the Winter Lanterns for comfort. To feel something poking around in his head, even after the Nightmare was gone for good, was enough to trigger some bad memories.

He had been tempted, for a moment or two, to simply rip off the snake's hood entirely. That thought had been buried under the knowledge that Charlie would be disappointed in him if he did. And just that. It's because of her that he even gets this chance to redeem himself, he wouldn't throw it away on impulse.

As he passed by an alleyway, he heard a noise. His days in Yharnam caused him to tense up in preparation to jump away. He expected many things to happen. A mugger lunged at him. A prostitute also lunged at him. Hell, a prostitute mugger lunging at him. It was not the strangest happening he'd suffered in Yharnam, but he'd be ready for it nonetheless. The Messengers sprouting from their cloudy pool of water was not one he expected but was more welcome than the alternatives (He still remembers that prostitute mugger).

The Messengers carried his journal, which he had asked them to retrieve once Charlie had finished reading it. He knew what this meant. "So, Miss Morningstar finally read it?" The Hunter grabbed the notebook and pocketed it. He breathed through his nose as he knew that she was unconscious from reading it. He knew this would happen of course. As the daughter of Lucifer, she had a higher natural resistance to Eldritch influence than most other denizens of Hell.

He had only noticed in re-reading his journal that his writing had slowly shifted from English to Eldritch over the course of the Night. His best guess would be the amount of Insight he had amassed during his stay in Yharnam. It had accumulated to the point where his own speech had been an abomination of English words and sounds combined with unholy screeches and transcendent groans during his first few months as an Old One. As a human, reading his journal would require a will stronger than the toughest castle walls just to survive.

But Charlie was different. She could read it without dying. She could be trusted to not become mad with power upon seeing the secrets he guarded within. She was able to understand him, understand his pain, even if the book had a mind of its own. "I would like to talk with her once I have managed to calm down"

As the Messengers retreated back to the Dreamscape, the Hunter resumed his walk. Right as he was about to head towards a potential place to rest for the night, he sensed that yet again someone wished him bodily harm. This time from a distance. Looking up, he could see from a distance that someone was indeed aiming at him. Unfortunately, it was a familiar sight. "Not these guys again." He instantly drew his Hunter's Pistol and fired a single shot.

It looks like we are about to get some action.

Crimson Soldat: I really should stop publishing chapters at an alarming rate. There is going to be something that I may miss. Whether it is lore or paragraphs

HalfWitHillbilly: True, how about once a week on Friday? Gives us more time to flesh out the chapters, while also making our upload schedule realistic.

CS: Yeah. And the Hunter may have created some enemies (?). Don't worry, characters from Helluva Boss will be appearing soon.

HH: I wonder what those 2 sentences together imply. Also we  might  do a series of one-shots that are in a more comedic light. Problem is, I want to show that the Hunter is still human enough to fuck around without making it too ooc. A difficult balance when he's a prime example of Trauma and Coping mechanisms.

Since there weren't many last time, I want all of you to give constructive criticism and feedback to help improve this story. Or, any suggestions.

Sorry if there were any Out Of Character Moments or any lore I fucked up, but I want to satisfy those who wants to read it.

With that said, I will see ya all in the next chapter, motherfuckers!

 

 

Chapter 11: Unprofessional

I hope you have enjoyed the last chapter. It wasn't exactly the best. All I can say there will be a lot of actions which will be done quick, and certain characters that will be introduced. Who will it be? You're about to find out.

Also, thank you, Der Kaiser, for beta reading. This story would have many errors along the way if that never happened.

Now, onto the chapter we go.

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

XI
 Unprofessional

'A band of misfits that offers the unique service of eliminating living targets still on Earth as a form of settling the unfinished business of Hell's residents. ' - Description of I.M.P

The Hunter fired a single shot at a target that a normal person could barely see, let alone hit with a smoothbore flintlock pistol. The Hunter, however, was not normal, and neither was his weapon, so his bullet pierced the scope of the sniper rifle manned by two Imps. 

Even though they were nearly a hundred meters away, he was able to sense them. Although with how loud one of them voiced his complaints, a normal person could hear them well enough. “God damnit, Mox! What the fuck did I say about keeping your sights on him!?” The aforementioned Imp yelled at his fellow. That scope was expensive as shit after all.

“How was I supposed to know he’d notice us from this far away, Sir!?” The other yelped at him.

He heard the Hunter begin to run away. “Nevermind.” He picked up his phone. “Mills. We’ve been spotted! You’re closer, so deal with him!”

The Hunter was able to run for a short amount of time before he had to duck under an attempt to tackle him. His gaze turned to a female Imp that landed on the road beside him wielding a large battle axe. ‘Great. Her of all people,’ he thought, cracking his knuckles and steeling himself for a fight. 

His newly modified Angelic-Steel Saw Cleaver would have been perfect here, but not on her and her colleagues. He didn’t want them dead after all, just battered and bruised enough to get the picture and leave him be. Unfortunately, it seemed that would never happen.

“Hey Jackass! Lose that weird sword of yours? Dang, I wanted a trophy. I guess that hat of yours will do instead,” she said, whirling her gigantic axe like a baton. 

The Hunter was already tired of this encounter. These jokers were the equivalent of mercenaries in Hell, which lowers the bar for all other guns for hire. They called themselves the Immediate Murder Professionals, but the Hunter had found that every word in the name was incorrect. 

For starters, they couldn’t be any farther from Immediate if they tried. Every time he’s had the displeasure to run across them, they always take at least thirty minutes just to set up some of the worst ambushes he has ever seen. Not including how much they seem to enjoy showboating and letting their target monologue. And the time limit they gave themselves. What kind of Immediate took a maximum of twenty-four hours? The longest it had ever taken him to hunt something was two.

Which brings him to his next point, Murder. They rarely do. From what he's seen, a lot of his targets simply die due to some unfortunate circumstance, or by someone’s else's hands. Gang leader someone wanted dead? The sniper sneezed, and the shot missed, but the gang leader choked to death on an overheated ravioli. Cheating husband’s mistress? Car bomb didn’t go off, but she drove drunk off a bridge. Past life’s murderer? twelve attempts on his life failed, but he hung himself after the guilt became too much. 

All of these grievances together means that they are not in the very slightest Professional. Especially their boss, who seemed to have it out for him personally. All he had done was mentioned their lack of a proper outfit, which was apparently enough to warrant many (completely and utterly futile) attempts on his life. 

But here he was anyways, fending them off in the vain hopes that they’ll just go away instead of making him do something rash. He doesn’t want to kill them, for several reasons. For one, they weren’t sinners. They hadn’t lived the lives of sin and decadence that would warrant them being cursed here. They were Imps, meaning they were the lowest of the low, the dregs of Hell as it were. They barely scraped by day to day, and this group somehow managed to become (for the lack of a better word) successful in what they did. To cut them down over a small grievance would make him no better than those Hunters that had degraded so far, they acted on impulse alone. 

Secondly, it would gain a lot of bad attention. Blitzø, while one of the worst killers he had fought with that wasn’t completely feral or brain dead, was the lover of Prince Stolas, a high noble of Hell who happened to dabble in ancient history and had a fondness of Eldritch entities. He did not want to gain his attention for any reason, because if he found out anything from the Hunter’s time in Yharnam, he would come after him with all the power he could. 

Simply put, Prince Stolas would never let him have peace, always trying to talk to him more and more, so that he might get some secrets out of him. And the Hunter could think of many that the Prince would froth at the mouth for. Blood ministration, the Arcane arts of Kos, the Old Ones. He would get nothing, but that didn’t mean the Hunter would be left alone. He’d find a way to annoy him further. He couldn’t kill the Imps for that reason.

Thirdly, it would make Charlie a lot more disappointed in him than if he had killed a Sinner. While Sinners were bound to Hell, Imps were born in Hell. It was their home after all, so if the Hunter killed essentially an innocent(ish) person, Charlie would be so cross with him. So he had to be careful when fighting them.

While the Hunter was internally lamenting the fact he had to let them live, Millie took the initiative. Kinda. She burst forward, axe raised high, ready to bring it down hard enough to chop a car in half… then yelled at the top of her lungs. “Eat this you jackass!” 

Sneak attack ruined, the Hunter reacted quickly. Not instinctively, because if he had Millie would have a broken neck. Instead, he used a trick Eileen taught him when facing human opponents. When she told him about it, he wondered how it was so effective. Then it was used on him, and he understood.

Millie found herself flying through the air again, this time not by choice. The Hunter was an absolute bitch to fight, she had found out, because he didn’t fight. He never stopped moving, he dodged everything, and he would just chuck her into walls, cars or into the air for a while until the other two showed up, then throw her at them hard enough to wind all of them, and then beat all three while they were in a disoriented heap. Sometimes, if he was in a hurry, he’d cut certain tendons, then throw her at them, then run away. 

But this fight would be different. She had a plan.

After pulling herself out of the crater she made, she enacted it. She’d seen footage of him using some kind of blade that turned into a chain on an opponent from a distance, and it had given her an idea for how to beat him. What she lacked was reach and speed(and tactics, and planning, but she didn’t need those), so she needed something to fill the gap while also being fast enough to connect. Which she had made, with a welding kit, a spare axe, and quite a few bits and pieces around the house. 

All in all, her new weapon was strange in appearance, exorbitantly expensive, abysmal in close range, and constantly had to be repaired, but it was really tricky to fight against.

With a grin bordering on feral, she rushed him again, coming in low while swinging horizontal. The Hunter made to do the same move he’d done damn near a thousand times already but didn’t get the chance. 

With a twist of the handle, the axe head split off from the body, connected by a few feet of chain. Millie stomped her left foot down, and pulled her axe as hard as she could to her left. The Hunter, not expecting this revelation, missed the grab completely. He didn’t have enough time to dodge either. The axe head swung wide, then bit deep into his side. For the first time in all of their brawls, something had managed to hit him. Dark red blood leaked from the wound. Millie’s grin split her face even further than it had before. She had done it. She had finally got him good after all these battles. “Hah! Finally got you, you weren’t tough at all!” She was ecstatic.

“Millie? Is he dead yet?” And there was her husband. Boy was she gonna peg him tonight. It had taken way too long to do this, but now she could fina- She was punched in the face.

The Hunter was… not quite impressed, but he did feel a small twinge of approval while viewing the fighter’s own, custom-made trick weapon. It reminded him of a mix between the Hunter’s Axe and the Beast Cutter, but with a dual headed blade. It hit hard enough to chop a few of the thicker demons in Hell in half, and with a bit of practice, could potentially be swung one handed one standing still. It seems they could learn a few things after all. However, the fight was still going, and he didn’t want to be here. “Millie? Is he dead yet?” Oh look, his getaway. He punched her in the face, then grabbed her by the neck and flung her into the other two Imps as they rounded the corner, causing them all to tumble down a conveniently long flight of stairs. Over their surprised squawking and Moxxie’s cries for her wellbeing, he turned and ran as fast as he could. 

Stopping at the hotel he had seen earlier, he ignored all the sounds he heard coming from upstairs, thinking about that weapon she had used. It was… strange to see the weapons of Hunters being copied by such…amateurs. He hadn’t made them, he didn’t hold any loyalty to the organizations that created them, and there were few he could truly claim as his instead of being picked from a corpse or found in a place he wasn’t supposed to be. And yet… watching her use it, with such a lack of planning or strategy… rankled him deep inside. He wouldn’t stand to watch her mindlessly flail around with such a weapon, or Gehrman himself would start turning in his grave.

Perhaps he should visit them at their base. Right after his bleeding stopped. So he simply willed it to stop. Being an Old One was useful at times.

-Scene Change-

Blitzø, Millie, and Moxxie, after scraping themselves off the bottom of the stairs, dragged themselves through the door to I.M.P’s reception. There, they found a certain Hellhound sitting on her desk. She was drinking a bottle of beer while looking at their sorry state. “So…what’s the damage this time?”

The couple threw themselves on the couch while Blitzø crumpled to the ground. That alone already gave her answer. “Seriously, after all this time, you’re still getting your asses whooped? C’mon, be over with him.”

Being the prideful imp that he is, Blitzǿ jumped back to his feet and sneered at the Hellhound. “As if, Loonie. That aggressive fashionless fuck has done nothing but steal our contracts!” He was still mad that the Hunter was able to garner more client’s attention than him. And his comments about their outfits. This is what professionals wore, it was in their name!

 “I think he’s getting more clients because he is better than you, Sir.” Moxxie reminded him as his wife leaned on him for support. “At the very least, he’s better than us.”

Millie could say things were different with their recent encounter, but she knew it wasn’t enough. “At least I was finally able to make him bleed with that customization I made for my weapon.” She bitterly sighs. “Even though I got him good, he was still able to get away.”

Loona saw otherwise. “Well, maybe you should try talking to him? But that won’t happen now considering that you made him bleed. Instead he might just take your heads off.”

 

“Or visit you at work.” A familiar voice chimed in. Everyone in the room froze. Loona dropped her beer.

All eyes turned to the doorway to see the Hunter standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. “I have decided to finally end your foolish grudge”, he said, staring directly at Blitzø. 

The three imps and Hellhound reacted immediately. All four stood in front of the Hunter with their weapons out. Millie, having (somehow) learned from the last battle, prepped to quickly switch her weapon to strike from a distance. Loona was all down on fours growling at him. “You may be strong, but this is our home turf!” Millie yelled in an aggressive tone. 

They weren’t ready for this, but they had to try. Each one’s reactions were similar, but the same in purpose. 

Blitzø readied his guns, but was internally panicking, because unlike the other times they went for this guy, Loona was here in the crossfire. They had to win this.

Millie raised her new axe, was internally panicking, because unlike the other times they went for this guy, Moxxie was here in the crossfire. They had to win this.

Moxie held his gun in surprisingly steady hands, but was externally panicking, because unlike the other times they went for this guy, he’d made it clear that this would be the last time they tangled. They had to win this.

Loona crouched low, ready to pounce if he even twitched the wrong way, but was internally panicking, because her new jeans might get ripped, and her phone might fall out and get smashed. They had to win this.

None expected for him to hold his hands up to signal he wasn’t threatening. “Easy there. I am not here to fight.”

Blitzø didn’t believe that at all. “Oh yeah? Well, why else would you be here if you didn’t want to get your ass mulched!?”

The Hunter knew it would be difficult to talk to them. Especially with the three who were about to jump him. And that Hellhound… too similar to Yharnam’s wolves, He couldn’t act impulsively here.  ‘Just say what you came here for.’ His eyes darted to the female imp. “You…” He walked over to her, making her husband aim his gun directly between his eyes. Stopping about three feet away, he gazed at the Axe in interest. “May I look at your weapon?”

Millie, after looks from her boss and husband, very reluctantly handed over her new toy. Which was swiftly taken apart by the Hunter. She had spent days designing it. It had been her greatest work ever. And now it was in pieces. Forgetting that it could be put back together, she nearly jumped at him, if she hadn’t been physically restrained by her husband silently begging her not to do anything rash, while still somehow keeping his gun leveled at the Hunter’s head.

While this had happened Blitzø had not-so-subtly stood directly in between the Hunter’s line of sight and Loona, causing her to snap out of it. “Hey what’s the big idea!?” she whisper-yelled at him. 

“The big idea is making sure you won’t be hurt!” He yelled-whispered back (The difference between the two is that Blitzo wasn’t actually whispering and was in fact talking at a normal volume).

 “I can handle myself! Just because he kicks the shit out of you guys doesn’t mean he’ll be able to get me!” She regular-yelled at him, now that their volume was being ignored. 

Both groups, consisting of Loona and Blitzø arguing about ass kicking, and Millie and Moxxie crying about her lost baby (It had been a very expensive and unique toy after all), didn’t seem to phase the Hunter in the slightest, who was lost in his own world. This was one of the few things he actually enjoyed about his time in Yharnam: Weapon inspection and customization.

‘Let’s see here. This one seems to have been a spare, it doesn’t have the markings of a well used weapon. Reinforced shaft, cut in two pieces, seam is just under the head. Decent metalwork repairs on the head and shaft, but the weight balance is off now that it’s been hollowed out.’

His inspection transitioned to the trick part of the weapon. ‘A simple crank and clamp to reattach the head? Crude, and it will take too long to re-wind the chain, but I suppose it suffices here in Hell. Definitely wouldn’t have in Yharnam. Wrought iron chain? It won’t last too many fights without snapping, unless she intends to frequently replace it. Cheap and efficient I suppose, but not designed for attrition battles.’

Further along the weapon, to the changes she’d made to the handle ‘Hmm, this trigger will need work. She’s modified the grip so that twisting it in different directions will pop the clamp, but aside from having a running start like she did the first time, you’d need to waste time spinning it up in order to hit with any significant damage. Not to mention the skill required to spin it in the right direction at all.’

The final part, the head of the axe. ‘Still has some dried blood on it.’ He idly thought while wiping his blood off of it. (Not the first time he’s had to clean his own blood off a new weapon) ‘She didn’t get enough time to clean it before she got here. Too much blood caked on a serrated weapon affects how well it can cut, but the blade being this large is enough to mitigate the issue. The other issue is with its bulk. It will be unwieldy for her, unless she trains extensively with its length, weight, and maneuverability in mind. She might, she might not, but who knows what could truly happen if she wasn’t careful. I suppose I should teach her how to truly utilize this properly. It would be a shame if she chopped her own head off.’

Inspection complete. It would fail in almost every category in the Workshop, and the prototype would be melted down and recycled, he decided. But what to do now that he was here?

 

While carefully reassembling the weapon, he turned his options in his head. 

‘I could let this shoddy weapon go back into untrained hands, let the Imp decapitate, disembowel or dismember herself or others, and wash my hands of the whole affair.’

Connecting the crank back to the pommel, he slowly spooled the chain while considering another option.

‘Or, I teach her and her colleagues some skills in weapons, so that they don’t immediately fall apart during a proper mission. In return, they leave me alone.’ Finished with the chain, he reattached the axe head and clamp to the mechanism while considering his third choice 

‘Or, and this one’s risky, I work with them. They need help in terms of skills and training. I can ‘show them the ropes’, so to speak. I have some wisdom from the Hunters thanks to Eileen’s teachings and Gehrman’s writings, along with my own experiences. I can make them professionals. But they will have to earn it. In return, I get their promise that Stolas will never become aware of my existence, as well as their aid if required. Is this how Gehrman felt about the first Hunters?’ As he pondered over these things, he reconnected the last few pieces, then finally made his choice on how to help this band of misfits.

Returning to the world outside of the coffee table he had been working on, it seems the groups’ coherence had devolved even further. The couple were actively making out on the couch, Blitzo had somehow procured several bottles of alcohol, and was sobbing incoherently into the table, where Loona had gone back to her phone to avoid Blitzø’s attention. 

It was like they had forgotten he was there.

Perhaps a reminder was in order.

He clears his throat to grab their attention. The couple seemed to remember they weren’t alone, and (reluctantly) ended their makeout session. Blitzø somehow instantly sobered up, and Loona only briefly looked up before going back to her phone, seemingly recognizing that he was here for business now. “I have made my decision.” The Imps tensed up again, and Loona looked up for more than two seconds before losing interest again.

Blitzø, despite the alcohol in his system, was feeling ice crawl down his spine. “And what would that be?”

The man looked at the imp. And after a drawn-out pause, where the tension felt too thick to pierce even with a Stake-driver, he simply said “I will work with you to make you true professionals.”

I.M.P was completely blindsided by this revelation. Millie had finally noticed her baby was intact again and had grabbed it from the coffee table. Moxie, noticing this too, was relieved that they wouldn’t have to buy more parts to make a new one. Loona actually put her phone away this time, to give her full attention. Blitzø’s jaw had fallen open in shock, relief, and the lingering traces of the spirits he had consumed.

 

The Hunter, seeing that he had hooked them, continued. 

“Your group needs a few things in order to be ‘professional’, like you claim to be.” As he began his speech, he turned to the whiteboard and grabbed a marker. Loona, who had always hated school, dreaded where this was going. “The first is training. I can help the four of you become better in all aspects of your individual fields. This will improve your work efficiency and keep you from relying on luck or your own target’s stupidity to win.” 

Filling in the relevant information on the whiteboard, he turned to see his (students?) potential co-worker’s reactions. Millie was watching him while absentmindedly rubbing a rag on the blade to polish it. Moxxie was taking notes. Blitzø was also writing something down, but from his lack of focus, it seemed he was merely doodling. 

“The second is the clientele. You normally offer your services in the promise that your targets will be dead within twenty-four hours. Give your customers different prices based on how quickly you can kill. Double for half, quadruple for quarter, and for the particularly rich, tenfold in thirty minutes. When you achieve that, more and more people will begin to hear about how quickly you can kill even the most difficult targets. Richer people with bigger grudges against more important people will hire your services, spiralling outward from there. This way, you will become more than what you had ever hoped to achieve when you started.” After marking this down, he turned back to his audience, seeing something that didn’t surprise him at all.

During this time, Loona had passed out from boredom, and was laying face down, a small puddle of drool forming on the table. ‘Is this how my professors felt?’ Thinking back to his college days, he clapped his hands to wake her up. “Miss Loona, pay attention! You’re part of this too!”

Jerking up from the table, she let out a few garbled noises. “Bluh-whu-ha! I’m not asleep I- Oh, it’s just you.” Loona had panicked for a second, thinking she was back in school. ‘Was he a teacher in his past life? God he’s so boring.’ She groggily thought as she straightened up before stretching.

The Hunter decided to move on to the last topic. “To finish is what I get in return. For starters, you will stop attacking me. On a more personal level, I want to ensure I keep all of you in line. I don’t want Prince Stolas to know I work with the likes of this company.”

The imps blinked in surprise, then glanced at each other. That request was too specific. Was he hiding from Stolas? 

“Give us time to think,” Blitzø said while grabbing each member of I.M.P and dragging them to a corner to discuss.

"Why the fuck is he hiding from Stolas?! Wouldn’t he want that rich asshole sticking his feathered dick in him!?” Blitzø ‘whispered’ to his colleagues.

 

“That’s just you. I don’t think he wants to do anything with him.” Loona assumed, grossed out by Blitzø’s description.

Despite their skepticism or the Hunter’s wariness of the Goetia, the couple thought of taking the chance to be better. “Well, he is offering a deal that we can’t simply refuse.” Moxxie pointed out, feeling as if his marksmanship could improve a bit. He still doesn’t know how the Hunter hits those shots. His personal best with a smoothbore was a ten-meter bullseye, but that’s nothing compared to the Hunter’s earlier shot today.

Millie could say the same. “Yeah. I feel as though he could teach me a thing or two on weaponry. And maybe even let me try one of his fancier toys” She thought about how he was able to disassemble her baby before putting it back together. And she had seen how quickly and easily he switched his weapon’s length, while it took her a good minute to crank up and reconnect the chain on her new axe. 

The marksman Imp looked at his boss. “So, what will it be, Sir?”

Blitzø was deep in thought (somehow). He may have (not) considered his colleagues' opinions. But to him this was one of the fishiest deals he’d ever been offered. Working with one of the (He’d never admit this) best in Hell, getting taught by him on how to be badasses that make millions, but in return he has to keep Stolas away and lie to his face? This wasn’t right and he knew it. But they needed this. He needed this. He didn't want to say it, but some of the past missions had been too close for comfort.

Once they were done with their little discussion, they turned to look at the Hunter, who had crossed his arms while leaning against the wall. 

Blitzø looked the Hunter dead in the eyes. “Are you sure you want this?”

The Hunter, staring directly back, was confident with his words. “I am. If it means you stop ambushing me on the street, then I’ll aid you as best I can.”

The imp looked back to his colleagues, who gave their reluctant nod of approval to him. He then looked at Loona, who only shrugged her shoulders, as didn’t care at all. Seeing how the odds were stacked against him, he let out an irritated sigh. “Fine. You can work with us. But only under the condition that you fill out your end of the bargin first.”

The Hunter saw no harm in that. “Good. We will begin training shortly.” 

While he and Blitzo shook hands (and Blitzo tried and failed to crush him), his mind began racing with ideas. 

‘Now, what should I start with. “Strength training? Marksmanship? Have them run as fast as they can while I chase them with a large weapon, screaming at the top of my lungs? Hmm… Why not all three at once? Oh this is going to be fun!”

This is going to be a rough week for I.M.P.

The Hunter is about to train I.M.P in exchange for the sake of keeping his privacy? I can already see that happening. I wonder how that would go?

Crimson Soldat: So, by taking HalfWithilbilly's advice, I am going to do a short like Helluva Shorts and Caboose's Shorts to make it a bit more comedic. C'mon, the Hunter can be funny at times. And we made some things up for the sake of this fanfiction.

HalfWitHillbilly: Yeah, this isn't another "Hunter in another world", this is combining the two settings with either pre-existing or made-up information. Eldritch (the language) was made up for the sake of the story, but not eldritch beings, since they exist in both settings. The same goes with Arcane arts and magic, just two branches of the same tree. 

CS: Indeed. Now, with I.M.P introduced; you are all wondering about Stolas? Fret not, we have something in stock. We just have to make sure it fits perfectly to ensure he doesn't have his direct attention to the Hunter. At least, for now. We got a lot of things planned for the I.M.P.

HH: Good luck with that, Yharnam is the one thing he knows next to nothing about, so any piece of information will be latched onto like a leech.

Sorry if there were any Out Of Character Moments or any lore I fucked up, but I want to satisfy those who want to read it. And to those who were sad to see I.M.P have their asses kicked in their introduction chapter. Well, it was the only way to think they would do considering the Hunter spent three years in Hell.

If you want anything to be seen within this story, or any character interactions, please, feel free to put them down. It would be really interesting to see what you may have for this story.

With that said, I will see ya all in the next chapter, motherfuckers!

I seriously need to drop that catchy, annoying line. It's getting tiring now.

Chapter 12: Business or Pleasure?

Let's see what the Hunter has in stock for them. Oh, and I have been playing Bloodborne as of lately. Y'know, to help with the creativity for this story.

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

XII

Business or Pleasure?

We start our next scene in a great, empty field of grass. It's akin to the plains of the great Savannah topside, with occasional scraggly trees and a burnt-out car every couple hundred meters. The pentagram's blood-red light as it swept across the land gave a strange if slightly ghostly, air. Hell's fields could be beautiful if there wasn't a great fire sweeping it or a pack of terrified Imps and a Hellhound being chased by a madman. Unfortunately, it was the latter.

"Mox, do you have a clear shot!?" The lead Imp, Blitzø, was frantically screaming to his subordinate as something tore up the ground behind them.

"How am I supposed to get it while we're being chased wearing weights, Sir?!" The Imp beside him, Moxxie, was correct in his panicked reply. Most of the I.M.P. were carrying nearly twice their body weight on their backs, in the form of rocks or large chunks of concrete. At the same time, due to her strength, Millie had one of the aforementioned cars hitched to her waist, and she had to drag the entire body, which was easily half a ton, while also running for her life.

"Because you're the Sniper, fatty!"

"I'm not fat!"

"Just take the shot, Mox!"

These were the frantic, panicked exchanges from each member of I.M.P. to one another. As they were in an empty field far from Imp City, the Hunter explained that he was training them in three different areas within a single session before moving on in just a week. This exercise, he said, was simple. Endurance, strength, and marksmanship. He would chase them around this field, and all they had to do was hit him with one of the (antique but incredibly well-made) pistols he provided: the Evelyn Pistol from the Vilebloods. They could hide and run, but they had to stick together. Anyone who strayed from the pack was hunted down ruthlessly. While it didn't seem much in theory, he added a considerable amount of difficulty by tying a lot of heavy rocks to their backs and Millie's car. Already, Loona didn't like where it was heading. Without any warning, the Hunter initiated his training. While they weren't ready for him to change his attire into a blood-stained orange robe with a rotten mask, they weren't prepared for what he did next.

A good two hours passed, and none had even tried to fire a single round at him. Several things were the cause of this. First, it was his sheer speed that caught them off guard. Though they had attempted to ambush him for the past three years, they had never gotten the drop on him. He dodged every bullet, knife, axe, body, car, building, well-placed piano, and bomb they threw at him. Right now, if they took a shot, he'd just dodge it, and they'd be back to square one.

The second and most troublesome is his weapon. What he wielded was not his modified Angelic-Steel Saw Cleaver. Instead, it was a-well calling it a weapon would be like calling a mansion a house. It technically was, but it was also something else entirely. Put simply, it was a saw. Put less simply, it was a gigantic, solid, something-metal wheel on a 3-meter-long pole. The wheel spun. Fast. Fast enough to tear through the ground as he chased them, fast enough to rip off parts of Millie's car when she lagged behind once, showing them all their fate if they slowed down.

Thirdly, there was the noise. At first, they thought that the sound coming from behind them was just whatever motor that powered the imminent death behind them, screaming its rage to the world. As the chase progressed, they realized the Hunter was screaming at the top of his lungs like a madman, somehow never needing to draw breath. It was, quite ironically, inhumane. It also quickly cemented the idea in their minds that they had to run away from the thing chasing them. It was easy to panic whenever you were being chased by a crazed man in crazed clothing, wielding a crazed weapon that could tear metal like it was paper.

They managed to (for the time being) lose him in one of the taller parts of the grass in the field. But he'd come back around, and the chase would begin again. For now, they just had to get ready for it. All four members of I.M.P. were out of breath. Despite somehow outrunning the lethal attacks, this was too much for them. "Isn't this overkill!?" Loona can't help but complain about this "training". She thought it was gonna be stuff like actually doing their paperwork and advanced workout stuff, none of this psycho chasing them with a gigantic fucking saw bullshit!

Millie wasn't having too much fun, either. While she had pounced at the chance to enhance her weapon, she felt a small (large) amount of regret. ' After all', she thought, looking at the missing trunk and back bumper of the car she was dragging, ' I don't think this is what we were expecting.'

"Sir, why did we hire this psycho?!" Moxxie was gonna die. He, his wife, his boss, and Loona were all gonna die here because he wanted to be a better shot! Oh Lucifer, why didn't they listen to…to… huh. Now that he thought about it, no one had outright said they shouldn't do it, but they all just thought it really loudly.

"I thought he was training us to be professionals!" Blitzø cried, feeling like this was the worst deal he had ever taken. Whatever his specific complaint was didn't matter because he heard the buzzing (and screaming) go from a distant threat to DANGER DANGER DANGER and had to hit the ground to avoid that saw taking his head off before rolling to the side to prevent the downward swing that turned the rock he was sitting on into gravel. "SHIT RUN!" Who yelled it didn't matter because the break was over, and the hunt was on.

The Hunter had done it.

Somehow, in all of time in Hell, he hadn't found anything fun to do. Everything he had liked as a fresh-faced adult before his disease and subsequent visit to Yharnam was out of date. Hoop play was non-existent, cards were boring when everyone cheated, and no one had even heard of Draughts. And all this new-fangled stuff wasn't fun either. When the Pornstar tried to get him a… "Sinstagram" account, he had simply told the man he didn't even know what a phone was. After a lengthy discussion and some more confusion at several parties, he told them what he had done for fun in his day. Even Alastor looked to have had a heart attack. What the Hell was a radio?

But he had finally done it. He finally found something fun. Maybe a bit too much fun. Then again, Charlie was all about alternative methods of finding peace. Perhaps she was referring to things like not being a drug addict or not shagging everything that moved, but this was neither, so it counted.

That's what he's going to say anyway. He's not going to kill them. Just give them a few bruises and marks. Better than what Yharnam put him through and certainly better than what Eileen would have put him through had she survived the Night. Closing in on the pack, he (lazily) swung the Whirligig Saw towards Loona, who barely ducked under it. Unfortunately, the tips of her hair were roughly shaved off, which (in her eyes) ruined it. This pissed her off, but she still kept running. "ARGH! You're going to pay for that!"

Instead of responding with words, he continued howling in the maddened tone he had taken to increase their fear response. The best way to keep the body moving, he had learned, was to remind it that death was closing in. He swiped at Loona, who dodged to the side this time, before focusing on Millie, who was trailing behind again. While his stamina was honed into long-term endurance from his (days? months?) time in Yharnam, hers seemed to be geared around quick fights, sneak attacks, and one-on-one combat with a humanoid opponent. And that was it. Ideal for her line of work, but more is needed for the Hunter. In every skirmish, when the sneak attack failed, she'd run at him to quickly brain him. When that failed, he would merely outpace her. She merely could never keep up. Hopefully, this would change that.

As he went over this in his mind, he got close enough to Millie that the Whirligig started sparking against the frame again, causing her to panic accordingly and pull further ahead. He decided now was a good time for them to rest, so he fell behind the group ways and pretended to miss them, diving into a tall patch of grass to hide. But not before running right past them, screaming all the while. Best let them remember that they are never safe. Fear was a good teacher when it came to giving people survival capabilities. And he knew its lessons front to back. And this lesson was no different.

You'd have to fight like a Hunter to defeat a Hunter. Or, in this case, shoot him with one of the pistols they were provided to stun him. It was similar to times in Yharnam when he hunted a particularly vicious Beast alongside other Hunters. If one of them managed to shoot the Beast while it was charging at them, then it'd be staggered long enough for the rest of them to hack it to bloody bits or at least make it bleed a little. This exercise was similar in the case that all they had to do was shoot him while he was charging to end the engagement.

As part of the exercise, he wouldn't dodge, even though he knew just how annoying quicksilver bullets were. Hopefully, they wouldn't give him the Maneating Boar treatment, but they'd probably (he hoped) be too exhausted and worn down to repay their wrath on him. And if they did manage to find enough strength? Then, it was simply a lesson in what to do when your target is off guard. He'd heal from it, but they probably wouldn't be able to inflict too much damage. After all, they didn't have their weapons, having left them behind.

He was getting off track. He had training to teach.

Revving up the Whirligig Saw again after letting them have another minute to breathe, he began the chase anew.

– Scene change –

After another lengthy hour passed somehow avoiding the Hunter, the four members of I.M.P finally got a well-deserved break…somewhere in a cave where they barely fit due to their weights on their backs (For Millie, the tow rope around her waist). They were all completely out of breath, and each was feeling their lungs burning. Loona had the urge to throw up, but barely held it in.

Despite barely being able to breathe, Blitzø knew it was the perfect time to come up with a plan. "So, Mr Aggressive Fashionless Fuck is, huff, still chasing us with that chainsaw, huff, thing or whatever the, huff, fuck he's holding. Not to mention these, huff, goddamn weights holding us back! Does anyone, huff, at least, huff, have an idea for a plan?!" Completely spent, he flipped backwards like a turtle, craning his neck to hear whatever plan someone magically came up with while they were running for their life.

He heard none from his colleagues. They had spent too long running and were so out of it none of them could think straight. Well. Most of them at least. Loona, while not as active as others (But still NOT FAT MOXXIE), was still a Hellhound and that meant better stamina than most. The others couldn't come up with anything, so she had to try now. Getting back at that bitch for chopping her hair was mandatory. She looked around at her surroundings, before looking down at the heavy rocks she had to carry. Then up at the rough walls and ceiling of the cave they were hiding in. An idea came to her as she looked at Millie, idly tugging at the rope around her waist. The dark rope that wrapped around the front bumper of the car, leaving a few feet of slack, "How long do you think that rope is?"

The female imp, still dazed from the chase, gave it a bleary look. "About...five….ten...twenty-ish feet." Millie answered but was confused by her question. With this new information, Loona looked back to the entrance to the cave. The way the entrance faced, you would be facing the sun as you entered, making it hard to see anything. Then, she looked to Moxxie, who had tried to hide behind a tree, and still had some of the branches on him.

"Millie, could you take one of these?" she held up a stick she quickly cut down to a stake. "And stick it into the cave walls?" Now even Blitzø was paying attention, seeing as someone had a plan.

"Yeah, I can. Why are you askin'?" Millie, gaining back some of the composure she had lost, was now interested in what Loona was talking about.

As Loona told them the plan, their faces went from exhausted terror to wicked joy. Then Blitzø starts joining in the conversation.

A couple of minutes later

The Hunter decided their break was over and was able to find the entrance of the cave I.M.P had hidden in, while dragging the Whirligig Saw like a madman. Knowing I.M.P were there and had nowhere else to hide, he thought he would end this training Exercise here. If it went on any longer, they might collapse of exhaustion, or fail to dodge one of the incredibly telegraphed swings he threw, just to keep them aware. Not once did they try to shoot him, nor trap him, nor did they even try to distract him so another could take the shot. This was a disappointment, but not unexpected. In truth, he'd be surprised if they managed to pull themselves together long enough to even formulate a plan, let alone execute one. But enough was enough. It Was Time to End the Hunt.

Clearing his throat, he got ready to charge into the darkness, using his saw as a light. Seeing a slight movement ahead, he began his attack.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

The sound of fast, stomping boots echoed as he charged fearlessly forward, ready to end this chase. The saw's deafening buzz seemed only to enhance his maddened cries.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

But he could not see them yet. The cave ahead was beginning to narrow, but looked as if it got larger further in. They must have attempted to hide again. Pity, it was time to find them.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

There! The sparks from the saw glinted off of something ahead in the dark. It looked like they were all hiding behind Millie's car, hoping he'd pass it by. He wouldn't of course, but it would be a good shock when he appeared behind them.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Enough. End this.

AAAAAA

*SNAP*

-auk!?

BANG

Four things happened in quick succession.

Firstly, the Hunter, focused on the car with I.M.P hiding behind it, didn't see the rope strung across the way, at neck height. At his current speed, this would have crushed a man's throat, but since he was no normal man, the rope caught around his neck instead of breaking it.

Secondly, his saw kept its momentum as it leapt from its hand, striking the car to the side to reveal… nothing? I.M.P was not hiding behind the car, but instead was in various positions around the cave entrance, where two were holding the ends of the rope that now wrapped around his throat, while two more were occupied elsewhere.

Thirdly, Millie and Blitzø dropped their ends of the rope, causing the weights they had tied in a complicated knot to fall to the floor, yanking the Hunter up and essentially hanging him. Being launched upwards didn't damage him as much as it would have, but he was certainly stunned from the events that took place in the last second. He didn't have time to recover in a way that mattered, however.

Fourthly, Moxxie, upside down while clinging to Loona's back (who was gripping the stakes Millie had kicked into the ceiling), put a Quicksilver bullet into his skull from 15 meters away.

The deed was done. Blitzø and Millie went to the Hunter's side, and Loona lost her grip, dropping from the ceiling and accidently crushing Moxxie beneath her. "Great job, Mox!" His leader praised him before looking at his daughter. "What a fine plan you set up, Loonie!"

Millie ran to her husband to hug him. It seemed to be a bit too tight. "You did it, Moxxie! I can't believe you!" Her husband, while exhausted, crushed once, then crushed again, still was able to hug her back.

"Now we just have to wait for him to heal from that headache." Loona said, as they turned to the Hunter, still hanging limply from the impromptu noose/garrote. As they all waited for him to heal, and whatever brain damage he was given to fade away, the Sniper, finally able to take a look at what he was given, realized something. It looked like the Hunter hadn't swapped out the bullets he normally used for this gun. And the bullets themselves looked like… uh oh.

"Hey boss?" Moxxie said, while inspecting the gun he was given, along with the ammunition.

"Yeah?"

"These bullets look like Angelic-Steel."

"Yeah."

"I think I killed the guy training us."

"Yeah."

"Soo… Now what?"

"...yeah…"

I.M.P realized their conundrum. They finally managed to whack the guy, but only the one time they didn't want to. So now what do they do? They can't exactly get taught by a dead guy (Sinners excluded), but they kinda needed it. Oops?

"I think we're gonna have to hide his body, he was important after all."

"Damn. Hey boss, can I have his hat?"

"You may not have my hat."

"Dang it. Wait whu-"

I.M.P screamed as one. The corpse-that-was-not-a-corpse had looked up at them; with a bullet wound still leaking blood, and still swinging from the rope.

"Congratulations are in order I suppose, even though it took you far longer than it should have. This exercise was supposed to have been completed 3 hours ago, yet it took you until afternoon to execute your plan." The Hunter began while he was still hanging. Even though this was disturbing, Loona had some choice words for the asshole that ruined her hair!

"It would have been quicker if you didn't chase us like a psychopath! What the Hell is wrong with you?! Where did you get a fucking saw?! What the fuck are you wearing?! And more importantly, why wouldn't you STOP FUCKING SCREAMING!?" Loona 'answered', feeling her fear drain away, and was relieved that this "training" session was finally over.

The Hunter didn't react in a hostile manner, seeing as how he was both hanging six feet off the ground, and had a lecture prepared. "That was intentional." He twisted to where the saw had landed, causing him to swing even more, creeping out I.M.P further. "The weapon was chosen specifically to incite fear, as was the clothing and the yelling. These three things cause terror to sprout in the inexperienced, which gives one the means to run beyond their normal limits. The weight was to give you more of a "workout" and enhance your stamina further. But in truth, there was a large possibility that you would have simply failed to adapt to any of these, however." With this, he gestured to both the hole in his head and the rope around his neck. "Nonetheless, you were able to land a single strike on me, and one that would have been devastating on a normal opponent. I am certainly impressed." His tone turned serious. "However, there is something more to be done."

Everyone tensed at his statement. Whatever was next they weren't ready for, they had been pushed too hard and would collapse if pushed further.

Instead of another 'workout' the Hunter simply said, "Could you get me down from here? I believe this rope is too thick to snap with my bare hands."

Instead of helping him, all of I.M.P passed out from relief, leaving the Hunter, still strung up like a pig, hanging.

"I suppose I will simply have to wait." The Hunter nodded at this, then crossed his arms and continued to slowly swing like a pendulum, slowly bleeding onto the floor. I.M.P could use the time after waking to do a report on what they learned. After all, who wouldn't re-evaluate their skills right after that insane (According to Loona) training!?

-Scene Change-

All members of I.M.P and the Hunter, who was out of that…unique… attire and back in his regular clothing and had somehow removed the bullet in his head, sat under a tree in the grassy field while eating. Well, the pack of Imps and Hellhound were indulging in a lot of unhealthy, greasy food that Blitzø was able to order on his phone thanks to the 'BEE EATS' app. They deserved it after the shit they just went through.

The Hunter, instead, opted for a large bottle of water, to rinse away the Sedatives he drank. Ghastly taste, but useful tool. He no longer had that wound thanks to the Blood Vial he took that healed him while he was hanging. Seeing as though he hadn't truly finished with the lesson, he turned to see what they were eating.

First and foremost is Blitzø. He was stuffing his mouth with a lot of corn dogs, cheese skewers, and loaded fries with a large bottle of coke to drain it all away. 'Greasy, heavy, unhealthy. If his heart functions past his fortieth year, then I will be shocked.'

Then he looked at the couple, who were eating two large chicken platter combos and two boxes of donuts along with water as their drink. 'Same story as their boss, but with water instead of sodas. Still not healthy, but better.'

Then he looked at the Hellhound, who herself, was indulged in a hefty amount of burgers, pizzas, chicken and beef kebabs, ribs, wings, and fried chicken and had five whiskey bottles for her drink. 'I understand what I put them through, but good lord how are any of them still alive?'

They seemed to be scarfing it all down as if they hadn't eaten for a whole day. 'Which they haven't, I suppose. But you won't always be fortunate enough to be able to run on a full stomach.'

As much as the Hunter was interested in eating, he wasn't inclined in the slightest. Being human no longer, he isn't required to eat like he used to. But, at times, he indulges to get that sense of normalcy. If only they still served food like they did in his time, he misses salted beef.

After finishing their meals, he decided to use this time to evaluate their skills. He cleared this throat, which grabbed their attention. "So, what were you going to say?" Millie asked.

The Hunter leaned his back against the tree and thought about it. There was so much he could think of for them to improve on. He looked at the female Imp. "Firstly, you have the strength to be capable of carrying much heavier weights than your colleagues. But you lack speed and decision making during this training. That could be improved on, along with you handling your makeshift weapon." Millie took that compliment to heart.

He looked at Moxxie. "You are good at your aim. Yet, you could have fired at any point, despite the situation I put all of you through. I could help you make you a better shooter."

"O-okay, I got that." Moxxie took that compliment to heart.

Next, he looked at the Hellhound, who was deathly snarling at him due to her hair being ruined. "Miss Loona…"

"What is it?!" She responded rather aggressively, slightly growling.

He let out a breath, knowing how difficult it would be since he did "ruin" her hair. Still, he has no qualms in arguing with her. "You have the speed to outrun everyone, including me. However, you tend to argue with your co-workers and not work in a team. They are essential for becoming professionals and I want you to develop them." This made the Hellhound scoff at his words. But that masked her acknowledgement of this flaw.

It was finally Blitzø's turn to receive his compliment. "You have some qualities of a capable leader. Yet too often you belittle your employees, making them feel lesser. I think we can work on that."

"I think that would be fine." The other male imp spoke rather dismissively before his phone suddenly rang. Pulling out his phone and looking at the caller, he let out an irritated groan. "Well, I better pick up this call." With that he stood back up and walked a bit to not let everyone hear what was about to happen.

-Scene Change-

A good few meters away from the rest of I.M.P plus the Hunter, Blitzo pressed the button and started to converse with the caller. "Heeey, Stolas!" He greeted the caller in a tone that downplayed his nervousness.

" Hello, my big dicked Blitzy!" Stolas greeted him as he usually did. "Are you aware of what today is?"

The Imp pinched the bridge of his nostrils upon the hit of realization. Today is the full moon and he is meant to fulfill the deal with some sweet, sweet bedtime. Normally he would never turn this down, but…"Ugh. Well, I'll be there. But I won't be there in time since I'm…busy." He gazed back at his group, who was still conversing with the Hunter.

"Oh, you don't have time for me, Blitzy?"The Goetia spoke with mock sadness.

Blitzø knew that this rich asshole was trying to guilt trip him into coming to his place at this time. He looked at this group, completely unaware that the Hunter could hear the whole conversation, before looking away. Without a second to think, he groaned to respond. "I do, Stolas. Just give me some time."

The Goetia chuckled. "Oh, Blitz! I knew you are willing to come. I cannot wait to feel your sticky [BLEEP] inside of my [BLEEP] while we [BLEEEEEEEEP] off while in bed! All the while we [BLEEP] each other's [BLEEPS] off! Blitzy, I cannot wait for you to do all of that while you [BLEEP] Squeal LIKE A–"

The leader of I.M.P hung the call. A few seconds later he snapped his phone in half and threw it onto the ground. Footsteps were heard and he turned to see the Hunter walking up to him and stopped once he was a foot distance away. "Stolas called, didn't he?" He wanted to unhear that conversation.

"Yeah" Blitzø admitted while slumping his shoulders. "He wants me to go to his place and…" He shouldn't have told him what he was going to do with him. "We are, eh, 'exchanging a deal' so I can have his grimoire."

"I understand," The Hunter commented, glad the Imp didn't give details. He knew what he meant of course, and had heard the Prince's graphic description, but didn't need any more information than was necessary. "You should go. Night is almost here, and we will all be waiting here for you to come back. Just…make sure he doesn't know what you're up to."

"Okay!" The imp nodded before he went off to get the essentials before heading to Goetia's place.

Seeing him walking off to the distance, the Hunter could only shake his head. "Guess I will stop training them?" Turning around, he saw the rest of I.M.P inspecting his Whirligig Saw with amusement. An idea popped in his head. " Perhaps I should give them replicas of my weapons once training is over?"

Well, looks like Blitz is going over to Stolas's place to "exchange" some sort of deal. All the while the Hunter will keep the rest of I.M.P company.

Crimson Soldat: When writing this, I didn't expect the Hunter to be that insane. Sheesh, perhaps the Night of the Hunt took a toll on him. And I can see Charlie not happy with what he has done to her people.

HalfWitHillbilly: Hey, he's gotta find fun somewhere. Charlie did say violence was bad, but not the threat of violence.

CS: Speaking of fun, the Hunter is going to put them more in hard training. Don't worry, after all of this it will eventually be paid off. We have a chapter dedicated to paying all of that training off.

HH: Hunter's not getting involved in that btw, it's not his job to do theirs. He might stand off to the side and make approving noises every now and then but that's about it.

This story is getting more popular than Dark Souls: Embers of Remnant. I may have planned something for that in the future.

Comment down below what you want to see in future chapters? Honestly, we got something in stock for both I.M.P and the Hazbin Hotel. What is it? You'll have to find out

With that said, we'll see you in the next update!

Chapter 13: Training Continuation

Last chapter was certainly good. The only problem I forgot is the Easter Egg last chapter. The Hunter dressed up as a certain particular horror character from a 1970s movie. C'mon, the clothes of choice were certainly a dead giveaway.

And to someone who wants the Hunter to have some romantic relationships, that ain't happening. Sure, he can have a healthy relationship but not to the point of romance. Trying to shoehorn a romance into the most hamfisted attempt at therapy you'll ever see would feel gross.

Now then, let's resume the story.

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

XIII

Training Continuation

Ninety Days until the Next Extermination Day

Stolas groaned as he opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. Last night was fun once more. He sat up and turned to his left to see his dear imp sleeping while snoring loudly. It was an unusual sight for him, during their 'exchange' under the full moon. He'd normally still be fairly energetic, and often they would continue where last night had ended. But, this time he actually seemed… tired.

This made him suspicious. Blitzø was never tired. He was the most energetic Imp Stolas had ever met. But this time was different. He had shown up tired. While no less enthusiastic, he still remembered the Imps energy draining out a lot faster than it ever had. From the looks of it, he was exhausted from a strenuous activity. It was as if (Stolas' mind started connecting dots that didn't exist) he had recently had incredibly active sex. Now, while Stolas wasn't a pinnacle of matrimonial loyalty, he was particular about his chosen lovers. The difference between Stella and Blitzø was simple. He trusted Blitzø. Stella he wouldn't let anywhere near his heart, and was quite frankly disgusted to have swapped genes with, even if it gave him Octavia. Blitzø was a choice both of them made willingly. But it seemed that wasn't good enough. Blitzø was cheating on him. But with who? He knew of I.M.P, but none of them were potential suspects. The Hellhound was his own daughter, and the other Imps were (surprisingly happily, given how most Imp marriages turned out) married. That left his ex, but they'd recently made (very messy and very public) attempts on each other's lives. Was it someone he hadn't met before? He had to know.

"Blitzy?" The Goetia poked the imp, which made him blearily open his eyes.

"Uggggh…Not noooooooow, Stolas!" Blitzø closed his eyes, turning his body away while tucking himself further underneath the covers.

Stolas wasn't having any of this. He grabbed the blanket and pulled it off the Imp, causing him to spin in the air for a moment before landing in a disjointed heap. "You seemed to be more tired than usual. Almost as if you've had some more physical activities without me. Have you been seeing someone else as of late?"

Hearing this caused the Imp to be wide awake. He froze in place. What was he meant to tell him? The Hunter wanted him and the rest of I.M.P to keep his existence away from this rich asshole, and Blitzø promised to do so. He had to fly by the seat of his pants here. Guessing the best course of action, he lifted his head to look at the bird demon. "W-well, my group and I got ourselves into more workload as of late. Some asswipe has an interest in the business."

"Oh…" The Goetia blinked a few times. "And if this 'someone' started to make advances towards you, my dear?" His tone was now ice cold, dripping with venom.

"I….It's not like that Stolas! It's…uh…." Now Blitzø was feeling the pressure the Goetia displayed. For fuck's sake, Stolas was impossible to hide shit from! He didn't expect to have this kind of conversation with him this early in th- wait what time was it. Grabbing his phone nearby, he saw that it was exactly Eight O'Clock in the morning. "Oh hey would you look at the time! Igottagobye!" 'Shitshitshit!' He could imagine the Hunter getting impatient to wait for him to arrive to continue training him and the rest of his group. Considering what he thought 'light training' was, he did not want to taste any 'punishment'. Without waiting for the Prince to respond back to him, he grabbed his clothes off the floor and rushed to get dressed. Stumble-hopping towards the balcony as he yanked his pants back on, he looked at the Goetia. "Sorry, but I can't explain right now. I have work to do!" With that, he jumped off the balcony, landing on a car and bouncing off into a roll, then sprinting down the street.

Stolas narrowed his eyes upon that weird response his dear imp had clearly shown. He was hiding something from him. But what could it be? Who could it be? This 'asswipe' he mentioned? Another client? Fucking Lucifer?

Stolas would have to dig deep into what Blitzø was hiding from him. Fortunately, he had his ways. Magic was the greatest tool he had ever given himself. Shadow travel was the second.

-Scene Change-

A single gunshot echoed across an empty field as Moxxie fired at a target (a row of empty glass bottles on top of Millie's rusted car frame), twenty meters away while using the Evelyn Pistol. He had found that gun to be more reliable than the ones I.M.P has in store. Well, aside from his Boss's Flintlock Pistol. "This flintlock gun could be an antique. But it's too well-maintained to be anything but. And it's way more accurate than a regular smoothbore gun. No wonder he's able to hit those shots."

"Not bad." The Hunter complimented as he was sitting beside Millie and Loona (who was trying to stay up from the hangover she had from drinking a lot of whisky. Having to do quick side steps for 15 minutes definitely didn't help). He was keeping time for the quickdraw training Moxxie was going through, while Millie gave the signal to draw. "That's better than the shots you've made earlier. However, you took longer to aim than necessary at close range. If you take the normal amount of time to gauge a shot, then your target will close the distance. Speed is key to winning a close encounter, so don't give them a chance to react."

"Right." Moxxie nodded in acknowledgement before he straightened his stance and focused on aiming at his next target, which was twenty-five meters away. The wind, whistling past his ears, quieted to nothing. The sounds of Loona retching behind a tree faded away. All that was left was him, the dry grass under his feet, and the bottle twenty-five meters away. His heart thumped in his ears as the tension grew, and grew, and-

"Now!"

His arm snapped like a whip, yanking the gun into position, and pulled the trigger. The bullet broke the bottle. Broke, not shattered, because while he had taken a chunk out of the neck, the glass was still intact. He let out a frown. "Oh crumbs! I missed it again!"

Despite this sudden upset, his Wife cheered him on. "Don't worry, Mox! You'll be able to get it. Just keep practicing!" Loona cheered in her own way, as she had stopped retching for a moment, weakly let out a 'yaaay', then went back to retching. Moxxie was proud though. Less than a day, and already his quickdraw was faster and more accurate.

The Hunter just watched the couple in silence, .724 seconds. An average draw in Yharnam, but it would be respectable here. Respectable would not be enough, but that's what training was for. Speaking of, their training was going well. 'Although', he thought, watching the Imps celebrate this minor achievement. 'Training isn't everything for them. A simpler life is a better life, after all.' A small smile appeared behind his mouth cloth. As he discovered during his three years voyage in Hell, there are times where there is a small sense of normalcy.

"You okay?" He turned to look at Loona, who had almost recovered from her personal Hell, and was now combing her hair despite its tips roughly shaved off.

"I was caught in my own thoughts." He responded. Just then, he heard footsteps approaching them at a rapid pace. The missing member had arrived. Along with…oh no. What had he told him about not letting the Prince discover his existence?!

Blitzø stopped running before stopping. He put his hands on his knees while wheezing. "Sorry, huff, if I took too long. I, huff, had to run from Stolas's place."

He wasn't aware that the Hunter had disappeared into mist, and another was watching from his shadow. So this was where Blitzy was going in such a hurry? An empty field with… bottles lined up on a burnt car? A Hellhound in a severe stage of exhaustion? And what looked to be weights? What was going on here? Then it hit him. 'Sharpshooting, running great distances, lifting heavy weights. They're training themselves. Makes sense, mercenary skills don't just appear out of thin air after all. But he's never done this before. Someone had to have started this. Maybe this 'asswipe' had the answers. But where were they? Time to intervene and get some answers from Blitzy.'

Loona looked to her adoptive father. "And why the Hell did you do that, Blitz? You know how suspicious that makes you look."

The imp was about to open his mouth… "Indeed it does. So this is where you went, Blitzy?" A familiar voice called to him, making him freeze in place.

Blitzø turned around and saw the Demon Prince, who was glaring at him. It seems he wasn't impressed by this place being more important than some fun times with him. "Oh, heeey there…" He spoke with a nervous tone.

Stolas leaned in near the imp with the expression of doubtfulness. "I knew you were hiding something from me, Blitzy. But this…" He looked at what they were doing (Millie was running laps around a marked path while carrying her axe, while Loona had recovered slightly, and had started tossing bottles in the air for Moxxie to shoot with his rifle) before looking back at him. "This is not what I was expecting."

"Yeah. Sorry if I didn't tell you beforehand." Blitzø spoke, feeling the pressure at the Hunter's immense glare and Stolas's…Well, it seemed more to the latter as the former was nowhere to be seen.

Speaking of, "So, where is this "asswipe" you mentioned to me?"

Blitzø tried to find a way out from here. Luckily enough, Moxxie was his saving grace. "We killed him, he cost too much and was an asshole, your highness. Here's what we got off of him." He showed off his new pistol, Evelyn, the Hunter called it, to the Prince. It wasn't a lie considering what had just happened yesterday. (And that would haunt him for a long time. Sweet shit he was still hanging when they woke up!) "Don't worry, he's not going to bother us anymore. Dumbass gave me Angelic Steel bullets, so there's not even a body left."

"Oh." Well then, it seems Blitzø wasn't cheating on him after all. And he overreacted again. Oops. He'll apologize later. Maybe while wearing leather. But he had other things to think about in the meantime. Like the pistol he was presented.

While he was certainly impressed by the age and surprising quality of the pistol, he can't help but to sense a rather large tinge of malice from it. This weapon had seen a lot of violence and had been held by at least two very violent owners. Where exactly did they get it from? This asswipe must have been one of Wrath's more cunning demons, he concluded. He was at least. He was glad it was over, however. "Well, that wasn't what I expected. I'll just let you, Imps, do your thing." Turning around, he stepped towards the nearest shadow. "And Blitzy?"

Blitzø stood ramrod, hoping that Stolas wouldn't pull a bit of evidence out of thin air to accuse him with. "Y-Yeah?"

"I will be wearing brown next time, as an apology." Then, he sank into the shadow of a tree, and disappeared.

"Hey boss, what d-"

"FUCK YEAH HE'S GONNA LET ME USE THE SADDLE!" Blitzø belted this out to the world, uncaring of the stressful times he had just gone through, or the energy he had lacked. Fuck the Hunter! Fuck Training! Nothing beats riding the Prince, then having the Prince ride him!

When the Goetia Prince left, the Hunter reappeared from behind the same tree. A neat trick, hiding in mist. It meant he could escape the prying eyes of certain people. People that happened to follow the person he explicitly told to be careful of. He couldn't rightfully blame him however. It seems the Prince was worried about his exhausted state last night. The Imp couldn't have known of the Prince's scheme, so the Hunter would be merciful with him. In the very least, Moxxie was quick with his clever response, and gave the Prince a very reasonable outcome as to why he wouldn't be around. He was getting better at these sorts of things. Maybe he'd gift him with some sort of reward later. But for now…

Blitzø turned to the guy he was pretty sure was pissed. Or wasn't. The face mask and his damn near monotone voice made it hard to tell. He was staring directly at Blitzo. Intently. His eyes were narrowed. It seems he was pissed then. "Oh…shit…uh, Hunter. I can explain…"

"Fifteen laps."

"...damn."

"And none of that junk you call food after. I brought oatmeal."

"THIS IS TORTURE!"

-Scene Change-

I.M.P were breathing lightly for once, since they were allowed to go as slow as a jog to their next destination (plus Blitzø doing fifteen laps and fifteen straight minutes of quick side steps) after finishing their meals. This time, they were (forced into) eating bowls of Oatmeal with a mix of blueberries and nuts the Hunter had brought along. It wasn't too bad to eat given how Millie and Moxxie had (somewhat) alright diets (even if Loona's diet was trash and how Blitzø practically had to be force fed), it was just such an old person meal that they were, once again, wondering just when the Hunter died.

"Ah, you're back from your run. Are you feeling warmed up now?" All turned to look at the Hunter, who was waiting for them by a tree. (And had finished 3 bowls of that goop with nothing else. Who the fuck was this guy!?)

"It was fine, but now I'm ready to crush whatever you got!" Millie responded, finally catching her breath, and letting her bravado take over.

Moxxie had an urge to hurl yet held it in. "How the fuck do you eat this stuff *Hurk* daily."

Despite consuming more than her Imp Colleagues (and deciding that it would be alright with a lot of sugar), Loona can't help but make a comment. "Yeah, because you need it, fatty."

He didn't take that comment too kindly. "Hey!"

Blitzø, ignoring his colleagues' daily argument, peered to the side to look behind the Hunter. There, he saw what was basically seen in those Earth Game Shows, perhaps from Ninja Warriors. Except it was ten times worse. "The fuck is this!?"

The rest of I.M.P, hearing their boss, also looked and came to the same conclusion. "This is what I spent the night building, and I finished it shortly before you arrived." The Hunter spoke, turning to face his creation.

"He built this all in one night!? Does he even sleep?!" Most of I.M.P thought.

Moxxie thought differently. "I'm too scared to ask!" he let out a gulp.

"That's what you may call an obstacle course. The purpose of this exercise is simple. To test your reflexes. Either by jumping over it, ducking, climbing, rolling, or swiftly dodging. There will be some easy ones like climbing over a wall and jumping on platforms." They couldn't help but notice he didn't mention what any of the 'not-easy' stuff would be. That didn't give them the encouragement they wanted, but the Hunter didn't seem to notice (or care given his brutal method of "training" them). "So, who wishes to go first?"

In an instant, all eyes immediately turned their attention to Moxxie. Said person knew what this meant yet can't help to keep his mouth shut. "Wha–WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME?!" He can't believe his wife was on board.

"You have keen eyes, Mox." Blitzø reminded him.

"And also it can help lose a few pounds, fatty." Loona commented.

"Oh, I was merely jesting on who's going first. Everyone's going to join in as well." The Hunter added, earning groans from the two.

The Sniper wanted to make a comment. But he knew he was only wasting time. Letting out a sigh, he walked to the starting point of this course, including the rest. "Hope it isn't too extreme."

…

"WHY IS THIS EXTREME!?" Moxxie cried out, clinging to a pole while ducking under the fucking flaming sawblades screaming an inch over his head. Dropping from the pole, he instantly had to dive out of the way of a log pulverizing the ground he just landed on. He didn't have time to recover, as he had to jump over another log (this one also on fucking fire) barreling towards him. That part done, and on a platform that wasn't immediately about to attempt to kill him, he looked a bit ahead, and saw the Hell equivalent of a jungle gym, but instead of pentagram styled bars and spiked corners there were oil-soaked ropes and a flaming pit of death below. The pit of death was normal, the flaming part and the ropes soaked in oil were not. If he lost his grip, he'd… have a mild tan after this was done. Hunter didn't really think this one through did- nevermind there were spikes down there! What the fuck!

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

His thoughts exactly! At the bellow he recognized as his wife's, he turned to her voice, hoping he wouldn't see her impaled on one of the many metal spikes that festooned the deathtrap the Hunter had cobbled together.

Fortunately, his wife wasn't harmed from the obstacle course. However, that didn't mean she was having a fun time (if anyone in any state of mind could call this fun), having sustained some bruises and cuts all over her body. At the moment, she had narrowly dodged out of the way of the same fucking car as yesterday attempting to flatten her. "I THOUGHT THIS WAS EASY!"

"IT'S NEVER EASY WITH HIM AND HIS FUCKING 'TRAINING'!" Loona shouted as she ducked on time to avoid three Axes swinging in different directions. Thinking ahead this time, she had her hair tied to a bun to prevent it from getting cut or burned again. What kind of bullshit was this that could help them train their reflexes!?

"Just focus on the finishing line, Loonie!" Blitzø told his daughter, having some time to breathe after climbing a wall that periodically had spikes pop out of it while random (sharp and heavy) objects fell down at him. "That includes the both of you, Mox and Mills!"

The couple, who was able to get together on a steady platform, nodded at their boss before they dove in different directions, narrowly avoiding the same car that nearly plastered Millie again as it swung back with a vengeance. This time, instead of just rolling into more oncoming traffic, they sprang up and over a pipe that swung just at the right height to give an Imp a concussion (Or a hellhound a very bad pain in the stomach). Once they hit the ground, Millie grabbed Moxxie by the back of his coat to just barely pull him out of the way of another fucking sawblade, while Moxxie had pulled her head down to avoid a flying boot (with a lot of knives strapped to it).

Moxxie could see the finish line. He could also see the Hunter, the smug prick, wildly pulling the various ropes and cables that operated this pain factory like a demented maestro, with sheer unrestrained glee in his eyes. He was enjoying this way too much, they had to hurry before he decided they weren't moving fast enough and started shooting at them. Moxxie saw the distance between them (The aforementioned death pit), and that the Hunter had something evil prepared for them, if the rope he hadn't touched yet was any indicator. He had a plan though. Stupid? Yes. Would it work? Not a chance. Did he have a choice? Nope. This shit sucked. Plans sucked.

"Milie! Throw me! We just have to get one across the line!"

"Ok!"

"Wait I wasn't re- OHSHIT!"

Moxxie flew. Time slowed. And he could see.

For the first time in his life, Moxie could see the world from the top of the playground. His whole life in school, he'd never made it to the top of the jungle gym. He had always fallen, like Icarus, too close to the sun. But now? This was… awe inspiring. Also like Icarus, he was very rapidly approaching the sea. In this case, the sea being, huge fuck-off spikes. Unlike Icarus, the spikes were not stationary, and were in fact approaching him veryfuckingrapidly!

The Hunter had pulled the rope. The spikes in the pit had been blasted upwards via explosive powder, propelling them upwards with enough force to spear buildings. Or a very unlucky Imp.

This unlucky Imp, was lucky enough to have twisted his body enough and had been in just the right spot to not only avoid the bulk of the spikes (one snagged on his shirt's shoulder, giving him some spin), but also get propelled by the blast, straight into the finish line; which was a sturdy piece of rope, so instead of breaking it he was tangled up in the whole length. The Hunter, seeing as the race was over, turned to Moxxie to congratulate him on his (average, in his eyes) performance. Then he got hit by a car.

This car was special. It had seen extensive use by them over the past couple of days in fact. Firstly, it was used as a training weight and a subsequent grinding block during the first day. Then, it was used to keep bottles up, and had taken many potshots in the meantime. Then, it was a main piece in his obstacle course, being a constant threat that could hound the competitors at every move. Lastly, it was used as an impromptu weapon as Millie, scared shitless about her husband being caught in an explosion, grabbed the nearest heavy object she could rip out of its bindings and threw it at the cause of her problems as hard as she could. During this final flight, the abused body broke into shards, a few of which ended up impaling the Hunter. In the time between seconds, when the car began its journey carrying the Hunter to the mess of ropes and wires he set up, he idly thought that this felt ironic, in a sense. Then he had bigger problems.

His entire body got tangled up within the ropes. He didn't have time to notice that a wire was thickly wrapped around his neck, or the spike he was rapidly approaching. Once it came to a stop…

*SNAP*

*RIP*

*TEAR*

*THUD*

*SHINK*

In the finishing line, Millie went by her husband's side and hugged him tightly. "Oh, Moxxie…" She apologized to him while closing her eyes while tears were forming in the corner.

Moxxie coughed a few times and looked back at her. "I'm…alright, Millie… " He assured her before hugging her as well. "And besides." With this, he looked at her with tears in his eyes. Tears of joy. "I finally did it!"

Somehow, even without being present, Loona felt the need to chime in from a distance. "What, finally did something useful for once? Congratulations, welcome to the real-world fatty!"

"No, I mean I made it to the top of the playground! It took me years, but I finally did it!" Moxxie couldn't be happier right now. Millie could kind of get where he was coming from, due to this being something he's personally struggled with for a long time. Blitzø wondered if he was gonna need a new Sniper, cause his current one obviously got brain damaged.

"Whatever, we're finally done!" Both of them broke away and turned to see their Boss and Hellhound reaching the finishing line before collapsing onto the ground on all fours. "I never would have thought I'd get out of that mess!"

Loona was breathing heavily while feeling the cuts and bruises all around her body. At least her hair survived this time. "I…huff…never want….huff…to do that…SHIT EVER AGAIN!" She finally caught her breath. No vomit today. She turned to where the Hunter was and saw a rather disturbing sight. Never fucking mind then. "Oh great, another trauma to bury under alcohol." Then, she vomited her guts up off to the side.

The Imps looked where Loona's eyes were. There, within the mess of ropes and wires was the Hunter's body, hopelessly tangled within the mess. Broken and twisted, it would be a miracle if he survived. It was surprising it was all in one piece. Not his head however, which was pierced on spike from the explosion, that had impacted the ground in a starburst of metal. Blood was slowly pooling out from the neck, and dripping off the end of his obscured nose. Even knowing he'd survive, it's safe to say that it unnerved everyone. Especially Moxxie, who looked back at his wife. "Uh, Millie…"

The female Imp looked at her husband and saw the look on her face. "What is it, Mox?"

The Sniper looked at the Hunter, whose decapitated head was pierced completely through in several spots while having his dark red eyes staring directly at them. Looking away, he turned to face his wife. "I think you want a bit too far?"

She looked back at him with her eyes narrowed. "I think he's got what was coming. Bastard had put us through so much. From yesterday to today, he's done nothing but toying with us." She let out a smile of relief. "Still, at least we were able to finish the course. And now he'll have a little more humility when he wakes up." She looked back at the Hunter's Hat that is still on his decapitated head. "By the way, I'm calling his hat before he wakes up."

"How many times must I say that you're not getting my hat?"

For the second time, I.M.P all screamed in one. They all turned to the Hunter, who was looking down at them despite being decapitated for fuck's sake! "I must admit that you caught me off guard there, Mrs Millie." His eyes twitched to his body, which began to untangle itself from the mess, and in less than a minute, stood up on its own (which freaked the fuck out of I.M.P) and took his patented 'lecture pose'. "Although, I must admit I went too far there and overestimated my expectations from all of your reflexes. For that, I must apologize to all of you."

Here, his body seemed to perform a bow to them, which gave all of them a very close up look to his neck, which was— yup still pulsing. (Loona barfed again, not of disgust, but of sheer fucking exhaustion of what she knew was coming next.)

"Hey uh… Hunter, can I ask something?" Moxxie asked, with his hand raised. It seemed a lot of school memories were being brought up today.

"Yes." The Hunter "nodded".

He put his hand down before responding. "How the fuck are you still alive!? I mean, you're a Sinner or some sort of demon despite having a human form, correct?! First, you manage to survive an Angelic Steel Bullet on your skull, then…" He thought of mentioning the second part, but the results were obvious. "Nevermind. The question I want to ask is how did you survive all of that!?"

All he heard was the Hunter laughing. "Ah, I forgot to mention. I don't waste Angelic Steel in bullets. Too costly to make, too difficult to store. No, instead I use Quicksilver Bullets." With this, the body of the Hunter (and that was still fucking creepy) reached towards his belt, where he kept the various consumables he used in his hunts. Reaching into the correct pouch, he pulled out what Moxxie had incorrectly deduced to be Angelic Steel. Upon a closer inspection, there were several differences. Angelic Steel was a polished silver and glowed faintly in small amounts. This… 'Quicksilver' was a silver that seemed to shimmer in the light, as if it were not a solid substance at all but a liquid being held in the form it appeared in. "Quicksilver bullets are easy to make, easy to load, and easy to fire. They are made of my own blood, so they are most effective when I am the one using them."

His own blood. How the fuck!? Why the fuck?! Hoooooo. Deep breath. Deeeep breath. Sanity would return at some point. Maybe. Hopefully.

"And as for my multiple miraculous survivals," Here he walked over to where his head was (Dontthrowupdontthrowup) and slowly lifted it from the spikes it was embedded on, causing another rush of blood to spill out from his neck, painting the body in his own blood. (This time, it was Moxxie who lost the battle against his gag reflex.) As he freed his head, he continued his explanation.

"I have been cut, bruised, pierced, burned, shot, impaled, crushed, melted, and suffered many other painful afflictions. I have been cut apart so many times I could tell you which limbs come off easiest on which joints. I have been gutted enough that I could draw a perfect anatomical diagram using only the view I have seen from the outside. I have been through the jaws and claws of a Hell far worse than this one and have adapted accordingly." With this, his head was freed, and he raised it to where his neck ended. As they watched, ropey tendrils seemed to shoot out and attach to both sides, and soon the Hunter was whole again. "It took all of that to damage me, and it will take much more than this to kill the likes of me." He wasn't lying, to say the least. But he didn't want this to seem like a boast. He had really been through Hell. All of the horrific ways he had died had slowly changed him into the paranoid, broken mess of a man he now was today. This… incident was nothing compared to being eaten alive.

I.M.P saw differently. Where had stood the strange asshole that had been a menace in the past days, was someone entirely new. The clouds that had covered the skies let a single, burning red beam of light engulf the Hunter, further obscuring his features, but drawing attention to the blood-soaked clothes he wore, clothes that had been torn apart and stitched back together countless times, clothes that had been covered in the blood of countless other beings. How many of Hell's rings had he seen? He must have been terrorizing the lower rings for decades, no wonder they never heard anything about him! This was the best killer in Hell, full stop. He was a veteran. A survivor. A badass. This, this was what Blitzø had been promised. This was what a True Professional was meant to be. This was who they would be someday. The Imps had stars in their eyes. It was like the King of Hell himself had agreed to sponsor them, and then shook each of their hands while smiling. Loona, on the other hand, was terrified. How could anyone say that shit with a straight tone, while pulling their own disembodied head off of spikes!? Something was fucked up with this guy, and it wasn't his training or brutality. It was his mind.

"Now then, who's ready to begin the review?" The tension dropping into the negatives caused them to pass out again. He really needed to stop doing that.

After making sure he had put his head on the correct direction this time (he had done that trick once before, and the Doll had collapsed from hysteria when he had put his head on backwards), the Hunter rolled his neck a few times, before he picked up the various members of I.M.P and brought them to their resting spot. It was during this time he looked at Millie's Modified Axe leaning against a tree and thought of something.

"Perhaps it is time to make good on my promise with the one who was the first to land a hit on me." He thought. "It is only right that she be rewarded for her hard work and diligence."

-The Hunter's Dream-

"Good Hunter," The Doll greeted him as he entered the workshop, carrying Millie's Axe. "How does training the Imps fare?"

"It is going marvelously," He responded, setting the axe on the Workshop's Bench, where a few disassembled weapons were placed around the edges, to give him more ideas for modifications. "Though, I went too far with my methods." He let out a sigh. "I did apologize to them, and they are currently being tended by the Messengers in the Waking World." He stretched his neck a few more times before turning to face her. "I must say they got me three times. Mainly Mrs Millie. Which is why I am modifying her axe as a reward."

The Doll pondered on what he said and she gave her comment, "Ah. I see you are making amends with this group who have tried to kill you for the past three years?"

"Yes." He answered with certainty. "I think I need to stop using my pettiness against them while training. While effective, it is a tad too effective." He let out a remorseful sigh. And it was so fun to make them dodge as he had. All fun must end, he supposed.

His close friend chuckled at his words. The Hunter from the later days of Yharnam would have put fun under 'not being flayed alive' in terms of importance. Slowly but surely, he is starting to recover from his time back in Yharnam. Speaking of which, she told him what had happened before." Ah, I forgot to say. Miss Charlie Morningstar recently visited the Dream."

The Hunter caught onto this with interest. He truthfully hadn't thought the journal would do that much, but had prepared for it nonetheless. Who knows what could happen given the many Eldritch scribbles he had drawn in his free time. "Is that so?"

She nodded in confirmation. "Yes. I did what you requested by telling her about your past. She seemed to be saddened by this revelation. However, she seemed to be determined to help you achieve redemption."

The Hunter softly chuckled by what he heard. "Really?"

"Yes," She plainly answered. "After all, she has the childlike innocence of one only wanting to save others."

He thought about this for a short while, then looked at her. "Do you still believe she would still help those who deserve to stay in Hell?"

"That depends. After all, it is their choice to do as they please." The Doll responded. She looked at the bench and saw the Messengers carrying the deconstructed weapons the Hunter needed but didn't have at the moment. "The Little Ones have brought the parts you requested."

He turned around to look at the bench and saw what they had brought him. He had Angelic steel. The handle and head of Millie's axe, and a dozen odd bits from weapons he wanted to add. The Messengers had brought him the chain of a Beast Cutter, the mechanism of a Stake Driver and a Boom Hammer, and parts of a Whirligig Saw. Now that he had all the pieces, he could get to work.

Losing himself in his work was second nature, and he had theorized it was one of the few things that had kept him sane during his transitional period of human and not-human and back. Sooner than later, the work was done. And as the Hunter looked upon his improvements to the base model, he felt that this would be suitable for Millie in the future.

Its head was edged with Angelic Steel, while the old mechanism had been trashed. The new mechanism was made with parts of the hammer and the stake, utilizing explosive force in both directions to cause a swifter transformation, and a more dangerous recovery if she decided to switch back to close range. The trigger was the same, but having to twist in different directions for each length. The wrought iron chain was replaced with the Beast Cutter chain, to allow for more accurate strikes when transformed. All these parts together meant that Millie could chain together many strikes at multiple distances, while losing none of the same power that had cut into the hide of a Great One. This weapon would require no small amount of Strength but favored Skill with a rank of B. With the weapon completed, he decided that its name would be Millie's Guillotine, after the one that made it.

Picking the Axe up, he slung it onto his back before heading outside. Naturally, the Doll assumed he was going to leave. "Are you going back to the Waking World, Good Hunter? It is too early."

He shook his head. "No, I am not, my old friend. I shall go to the Merchant Fountain to purchase a few things." He felt like he had a lot of Blood Echos within him. While thinking of what to buy for them before modifying it with Angelic Steel, an idea came to him. "They're gonna love what I have for them." And so, another long night begins.

We're coming close to the end of I.M.P's training Trilogy. Don't worry, they won't be going away. After all, they are part of the story.

Crimson Soldat: Indeed. Although the Hunter is the center focus of the story, everyone needs to have their time to shine. Even the side characters!

HalfWitHillbilly: And shine they will. I.M.P is already pretty tough in canon, but when their skulls have been bashed together so hard they can read each other's thoughts? It's gonna be a fucking massacre.

CS: We're planning to bring more Villains in this story. Don't worry, we're going to have one where it makes it challenging for the Hunter. Oh, and expect them (I.M.P) and the Hazbin Hotel to get weapons AND outfits from the Hunter. You may or may not like it.

HH: Considering how particular people are about fashion, who knows what they'll think of this. Who knows what we think of this. Maybe they're all the worst outfits on the worst people, and we're taking the piss out of you. You'll never know. (Niffty gets the Doll outfit fuck any other expectation you had)

We got a lot to unpack in this story. Sure, the timeline is messed up considering it is an Alternative Universe Scenario. Don't worry, we know where it is going.

Comment down below what you want to see in future chapters? Honestly, we got something in stock for both I.M.P and the Hazbin Hotel. What is it? You'll have to find out.

With that said, we'll see you in the next update!

Chapter 14: Sparrin' & Relaxin'

If anyone is wondering if the Hunter went to the other rings, I can confirm that he did not since he has no easy way to enter, and no reason to go. We'll eventually create a side story that dedicates his one singular trip into a different ring, and by complete accident.

Now then, let's resume the story.

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

XIV

Sparrin' N' Relaxin'

Eight-Six Day until the Next Extermination Day

Six days had gone by since the Hunter had begun training I.M.P for the grisly life of a Hunter. It had been a gruelling week (especially for Loona's hair and Moxxie's sanity). Yet, they manage to persevere due to them developing their teamwork (even if they still bickered between each other, they used it to relay information during the witty comments and scathing remarks), their reflexes (They could dodge or catch anything that wasn't a bullet at point blank, which Blitzø abused by tossing his paperwork at them that they instinctively caught, falling for Rule 2 : Whoever touches paperwork second has to fill it out, and their individual strengths.

Loona was suffering from some of these, having cracked her phone's screen by texting too hard. She felt better after she broke a particularly handsy Sinner in half (literally), making all onlookers suddenly allergic to her gaze. It made it even better when the guy came back with friends that she also snapped into pieces and tossed in a dumpster.

Millie was thriving from all of these. She was now strong enough to crush their garbage into shape instead of using a compactor and could catch up to the speeding car to remind them that it wasn't nice to speed off after almost accidentally hitting her on the sidewalk. She had also lost weight, which was the greatest benefit of all.

Moxxie liked some of these, but not all of them. Aside from the aforementioned paperwork (That Blitzø always threw at him, no matter who else was in the room with him), his strength had gotten to the point where he could comfortably 'jog' alongside his wife during her morning runs at a speed that left most athletes in the dust. No way in hell could he keep up to her running, but this was good enough for both of them. The more eh… tasty part was now she could play a bit more rough with him, which their already busted furniture (and neighbors) really appreciated.

The other end of the coin wasn't as great. He could see and hear anything in a mile unaided. At all times. In the most active part of Hell. It sucked hearing gunshots from the other side of the Ring while he was trying to sleep, and it also sucked reacting to random attacks coming from an alleyway two blocks away. He'll need to ask the Hunter how he managed all of the noise when he gets the chance.

The Hunter wasn't present when they woke up after the weirdest individual dreams of a headless corpse teaching them weapon maintenance, and a corpseless head teaching them tax fraud. But he had, however, left a note saying that he 'hath decided to reward them for their hard work and inspiring diligence, yet it shall take time to manufacture and procure the required materials'. (Old English. Of course. Moxxie would bet that somewhere in those pouches was a feather quill and ink pot.) Millie had noticed that her axe was missing and had nearly torn the office apart (literally) looking for it but was informed that he was making adjustments to do it that she would like. While slightly bummed about it, she had seen the way he had easily dismantled it on the fly, who knows what he could do with some preparation. So, to kill time, they decided to use this opportunity to train themselves until he comes back. And to also (Euugh) fix their dieting (in much to Loona and Blitzø's displeasure).

Over the next four days, they have developed their skills using the stuff he had left behind for them as some kind of 'homework'. There was the basic shit, like running a few miles without stopping, climbing up a few thousand stairs backwards or scaling a building with no ledges. Those may have sounded fucking insane in any level in athletics, but they were nothing compared to the tougher shit. Throw knives for an hour. Didn't sound hard, right? Wrong! 300 pounds minimum weights while constantly sidestepping. Take multiple hits in a row without flinching. Just a simple punch in the gut, right? Wrong! The Hunter had made what Moxxie liked to call in his head the 'Shit-Fucker-Upper 3000', which was a kind word for the bars of metal that would beat down at them from multiple angles with enough force to shatter bones. Shatter, not break, because Blitzø had tossed a full femur in to see what would have happened to a normal person, and it was dust in 5 seconds. And I.M.P's all-time favorite exercise, "Dodge". Why Dodge? Because it was simple. You had a hallway you had to get to the end of. At the end was a shit ton of crossbows, flintlocks, flamethrowers, rock catapults, and things that just chucked heavy metal objects covered in spikes. Somehow, all the shit reloaded itself without anyone being there, so it was always on if someone was in the hallway. So all you had to do was dodge the shit. Simple easy, and hair-tearingly frustrating because it never stops fucking attacking and I don't get a fucking chance to do anything other than FUCKING DODGE! This was the rage that I.M.P had felt towards this exercise and vowed to never insult the Hunter's dodging capabilities again, if this was the shit he thought was easy enough to learn in a day. IMP persevered, and over the next few days, the results made themselves known.

Blitzø, who still belittled his colleagues for minor or non-existent mistakes, had improved his reflexes, acrobatics, and athleticism. Thanks to those courses the Hunter had set up for them, he's now better than ever at getting a feel for where his subordinates are. He was also freakishly dextrous, and he could squeeze himself into even more ridiculous spots than his employee's fridge, which he abused by hiding in their microwave instead. Even his marksmanship had improved somewhat, but it was nothing compared to his subordinate's.

Moxxie was an impossible shot. Ever since he started training with Evelyn, there were significant changes in both his reaction speed and accuracy. His draw time went from 0.724 seconds to a tenth of a second, his hands becoming invisible to the naked eye. He could shoot up to seventy-five meters with it and still nail a headshot due to constant practicing. He could actually hold his own in a melee brawl, with a technique he'd never actually learned before. And his sniping was unmatched. Even with the shittiest scope they could find on the shittiest gun they owned, Moxxie could not miss. Not only could he see the individual pores on a Demon's face from half a mile away, it felt like his shots were being guided somehow.

Loona had the second most significant improvements in terms of physical capabilities. Somewhat in part of her Hellhound nature giving her abilities that her colleagues lacked, her reflexes (including her quickstep, dodges, and deflecting questions aimed at her) improved drastically, as well as her strength. She could now move fast enough to blur if she was putting her heart into it. While her strength came with downsides of having to be more careful with her phone, she could slack off twice as hard and still get the work done in a quarter of the time, meaning she technically did more, meaning she got paid more. Also she enjoyed being able to open a beer with just her thumb, though she had to be careful not to flick the top off too, as she had accidentally ruined a few of her favorite tops before getting it right.

Out of the four of I.M.P, Millie was in the spotlight. Her strength had multiplied seemingly overnight, her speed was unmatched on foot (and in some particularly crappy cars), and her reflexes couldn't be beat even when an entire gang tried to attack her (She broke them all. She didn't even break a sweat. While cathartic to snap their bones and crush their spirits, mayyybe she should take that anger management class that Moxxie had mentioned.) She actually caught on quite well to the Hunter's recommendations and training techniques. But she still felt tingly at letting someone that wasn't her husband or coworker hold her baby (even though she knows the Hunter has no ill intention with her axe).

That is how the previous 3 days had ended. On the final day, they awakened in the early hours of the day, and each began their morning routine before heading to the office. Millie and Moxxie woke up beside each other, kissed, started making out, it got sloppier, the rest of their clothes came off, you get the picture (HH : Crimson's holding my nonexistent pay hostage until I make the story lemon-free). They finished up, Millie untied Moxxie from the rocking horse and removed her cowboy outfit, and they began their morning properly. Quick breakfast of bacon and eggs, tossing the fork that Millie bit the tines off into the scrap heap with the rest, and off to work. Blitzø woke up by his alarm blaring directly into his ear hole, causing him to tumble off the couch he was plastered to, onto the floor next to some of the beer bottles from last night. After waking up Loona (and being kicked across their shared living room) they had their breakfast of beer and last night's pizza that he and Loona didn't tell the others about, for fear of being put on an actual diet. Then, they were off to work.

They met in the office and did whatever jobs they got that day. A man with a grudge wanted his landlord's family erased? They finished in three hours. Murdered girl wanted her abuser to die painfully and publically? They took their time, but still managed to finish in a little over one hour. Grandma died, but her inheritance went to the slimy lawyer that wrote the deeds instead of her sickly grandson? Done and done in thirty. When they finished up, they closed down the office, ribbed Moxxie a bit, and headed to their normal spot in the fields for some 'light' workouts.

As they reached the training ground (which was what they called the huge area where the grass had recently burned away), they were surprised to see their missing coworker, who was leaning against the tree of their usual spot in his usual attire. "Hey there you are! I wondered what you've been up to, check out our progress!" Blitzø greeted him. With this, IMP (minus Loona, who was embarrassed and didn't want to) began showing off their stuff.

Blitzø twisted himself into a pretzel, then untwisted himself to immediately begin sidestepping so fast he blurred. He then did five somersaults and fifteen backflips before ending in a perfect split (A single tear rolled down his face).

Millie squatted into a sumo stance, lifted her left leg high above her head, then brought it down so hard the earth shook and cracked below her. She then flipped over and started doing alternating one-handed handstand pushups at a speed that made Olympic athletes quiver in fear.

Moxxie didn't really do much, due to his preferred affinities, but was still able to show off. He tossed a rock high above his head, then shot it without looking, then caught all the pieces also without looking. He then flourished his pistol, blew the smoke of of it, then tucked it into his belt.

After their individual skills were shown, they each began flexing and posing, showing off all of their hard-earned muscles and scars. Blitzø was an allrounder, with steel cord-like muscles giving him his unnatural flexibility and strength. Moxxie was as lean and mean as a whip, capable of supernatural reflexes while being able to hold himself perfectly still, not even twitching when he pulled the trigger. Millie took the cake in terms of bodily strength, however. While her physical size hadn't changed much, the effects of her extra gruelling personal workouts made their marks. Every visible muscle was like chiselled stone, and her abs were forged steel. She could grate cheese on her back muscles if she wanted to (which Moxxie had done late one night).

To this display of sheer power his coworkers had cultivated, the Hunter had a single response. "Good work," he said, while nodding his head. "I am proud of your progress."

After the glow of the Hunter's pride washed off, Moxxie spotted that he had a different weapon next to him, some kind of long curved sword. Naturally (fearing for it being some kind of terror weapon that spewed fire or launched spikes or something), he asked him. "Hunter, what's that weird sword on your back?"

The Hunter looked to the Beasthunter Saif next to him. While not his most practiced weapon, it would serve as a temporary replacement to his Modified Angelic-Steel Saw Cleaver. He didn't want them dead after all. And the next fight wasn't meant to be skewed in his favor anyways, so this was the closest he could do to even the odds without touching garbage like the…Uugh…Wheel. 'How was that ever considered a weapon of any measure?' Shaking away the terrible memories, the Hunter responded. "This is for later." And I.M.P dreaded for what was to come. "For now however, I believe your rewards are in order."

That caught them off guard. Rewards? They thought it'd be another day of pain, but now he was rewarding them? Something was fishy. Before any of them could open their mouths, they Hunter briskly straightened up, then walked behind the tree, appearing a moment later carrying four large boxes, 'Where the fuck did they come from? Those weren't there before!' Once more, Moxxie feared for his sanity.

"Here. Your rewards are right inside." He gave each box to the member of IMP that it belonged to. Once each had their box, he stepped back, and gave his words. "For your hard work and diligence, you have earned these. Now, you can all open it."

It was like Christmas for I.M.P. Weapons and guns! From the looks of them, the Hunter had broken into what might have been his personal collection, since none of them had ever seen the likes of these before. As they inspected their presents, the Hunter explained each one's purpose in turn.

Loona opened hers, finding a claw and a long gun. "That claw is chiseled bone from a rather tough Beast. Its intended use is to rip beings apart, and stab at close range. It is not a weapon meant for graceful hands, so it fits in yours perfectly." Ignoring the (rather scathing) jab, she held it up to inspect it. It was bone, but at the same time, there was something else just under the surface. He was right about it fitting in her hands, it felt like a part of her body, instead of an extension of her. Blinking away the weird feelings, she held up what she thought was a rifle. It was not "This blunderbuss is simple in its utility, yet deadly at close range. Meant to stagger larger enemies, or to disperse a crowd. Range is not something I see you excelling at, so your tools will help with closer enemies instead."

Moxxie opened his gift, which was much bigger and heavier than the others. After opening it, he was in shock at what lay before him. Two huge guns, neither of which could have been held by him before this week. But now? He lifted up the guns by their handles, absentmindedly noticing that these beasts were meant to be fired one handed. Still in a state of shock, he looked to the Hunter, as if begging for an explanation, which he received. "The Cannon and Gatling gun are similar in that they are big, bulky, and powerful at medium range. Range that you possess, should the enemy be too close for comfort. These are meant for any that are unfortunate enough to be in your path, from single fighters to large crowds. As a sniper, if the enemies are close enough for you to shoot with these, then something has gone horribly wrong. These will rectify that. Also, you may keep the pistol. It has grown on you, I believe." And the Hunter was right. Evelyn was now a part of him, as much as his horns and tail were. It felt wrong if he was in the field and it wasn't safely tucked away on his person. He's never had to use it, but he wondered about the day that he would have to.

Blitzø opened his gift, and immediately dissolved into manic cackling. Two of the best things in existence lay before his eyes, excluding sex, pizza, beer, his daughter, etc. Three if you considered that one of these was a pair, which he pulled out to look at. They were a bulky set of guns, with twin barrels and chunky bodies made of solid metal. Each had a wheel on its side, likely for fast reloading. "The repeating pistol is intended for quick and efficient kills, firing twice in a single shot. If modified, I believe you could fire the entire supply of bullets at once. This is a risk, given the ammo intensive nature of them. Which is where your next weapon comes in-"

VVVVVRRRRRRRRRR

"WAHAHAHAHA, HAHAHAHA-HA!"

I.M.P had PTSD from this noise. Moxxie ducked under his cannon while whipping out Evelyn, fearing for his life. Loona had hit the ground, covering her newly grown hair in an attempt to spare its life. Millie, sure she could take it, jumped in front of the others in an attempt to save them. None of this mattered. Because Blitzø had just found his second toy.

"HAHAHA! THIS IS SO MUCH FUUUN!" In a surprising act of charity (or lack of foresight, considering Blitzø's sanity), the Hunter had gifted the same weapon he tormented them with that first day, what felt like years ago. They still remembered what it could do. And now, as I.M.P warily stared at their boss waving around the oversized saw on a pole with reckless abandon, they felt as though the Hunter had given them a fate worse than death.

"The Whirligig Saw," The Hunter began, somehow still being heard despite the wheel of death spinning a foot from his head, "is meant for any and all engagements. It is used to terrorize, to tear, to torture, and to kill. Single opponents of any size cannot escape its teeth, and crowds of any size will melt before it. The only way to survive it, is to run away, or to stagger the wielder. As I'm sure you already know."

As he finished speaking, Blitzø stopped holding down the trigger, and turned to the Hunter. "WHAT?!" he yelled, deafened by his exposure to his new plaything.

Millie opened her box, confused by its insides. A… big chunk of metal? With finger holes? It looked like a really chunky set of Brass Knuckles in her opinion. As she slipped it on, getting a feel for its nonexistent weight (to her, not to whoever's skull she'd be crushing with it), the Hunter spoke up. "The Fist of Gratia is a brutal tool. Closest range possible, meant to crush bones and stagger opponents in place of a firearm. In your hands however, I imagine it will do a bit more than stagger opponents. If any survive it, I suppose what I give you next will help fix that."

With that, the Hunter straightened up, into a pose that seemed to radiate authority.

"I have seen, held, and tasted the lash of many weapons in my days. Many have been insufficient, some were worth further inspection, few have truly given me pause. The weapon you yourself have crafted has somehow managed all of these. It was unreliable, unwieldy, and it would have been best to have been tossed aside for any other weapon. However, you have managed to gravely wound me once with it, and once without. You have gone above and beyond what I expected of any of your caliber. You have proven yourself to be truly worthy of my attention, and therefore, this." With this, the Hunter raised his hand, where a blue pool shimmered into existence.

While Millie was confused about this, several strange, small beings presented her with- "My axe!" And indeed it was. But it wasn't the same as before. It used to be made out of a regular spare axe and some junk metal, whereas now it was almost an entirely different weapon altogether. The handle between the head and the grip had changed, becoming chunkier and had more complex bits around the seam where the head disconnected. The head had been made larger, and the edge was now Angelic Steel. But… the clamp was gone. So was the crank. What did it do now? Confused, she picked it up from the strange creature's hands, which sank back into the pool, which disappeared. As she held her axe, a rush of information assaulted her brain. Suddenly, she knew how to use this, like she had been practicing for years.

She turned away from the group towards a nearby tree. She then planted her left foot down, swung the axe horizontally from right to left, and twisted the grip. The head exploded from the handle, shooting out to at least twenty feet before reaching the limit of what had used to be a chain but was now segmented steel. Each segment was threaded together, making it seem like a rigid object when she held it in front of her to inspect it. As to turn it back… She abruptly turned it over and slammed it into the ground, connecting all of the segments and resetting the trigger mechanism. This also was the final push the tree she had sliced perfectly in half needed to actually fall over, revealing a paper-smooth surface on both ends. Technically it was intended that she just twist the grip the other way, but this worked faster. And was way, way cooler.

She turned back to the group. All of them had dropped their jaws, and Blitzø's eyes were bugged out. No way that junky thing had been made into this! The Hunter could seemingly pull miracles straight from his asshole apparently, as there was more to come.

"And with this gift, comes another. Millie Knolastname (and that caused her to straighten up because holy shit this was serious now), you have created a weapon worthy of the Workshop's attention, excelled at every physical trial presented, and have managed to mark me twice. With these in mind, I grant you this."

And then he handed her something that caused tears to sprout in her eyes. A hat. Rather, his hat. The hat he had doffed, revealing his medium length, graying black hair, then held out in front of him, beckoning Millie to take it. Which she did, but she just held it, wondering just why he was doing this. As all of I.M.P looked on in shock and confusion, he continued. "You have proven yourself to be worthy of much more than just praise. Rather, you have proven yourself to be better. You have proven yourself to be a Hunter, in all but blood. As such, I grant you access to the Workshop, should you ever need it."

With this, he handed her a small piece of leather with a bunch of scribbles on it. At this Millie broke, but she was just barely able to take the piece of leather through the tears. The Hunter then turned to address the rest.

"Hunters you too shall become, should you complete this final task." The Hunter turned away, towards the burned patch of grass. "Meet me at the field when you are prepared." With that, he walked away, grabbing the Saif as he went along. I.M.P looked at one another, before looking at the gifts they received. Perhaps they should practice first. Once Millie stopped crying, and Moxxie stopped retching after looking at the 'leather'.

-Scene Change-

I.M.P spent an interesting hour of 'practicing' with their new equipment. Blitzø nearly chopped off a lot more than the tips of Loona's hair again, much to her horror, then rage, which she retaliated by flinging him across the field with her Blunderbuss. Millie was able to pull herself together enough to properly mess with her new toys, discovering even more fun ways to kill with them. Moxxie tried to fire the cannon and gatling gun at the same time, which wasn't exactly a good idea as he was sent flying backwards. They even figured out how to reload their guns, with the weird Quicksilver bullets that he had given them a bunch of. When they were finished, they all marched to where the Hunter was waiting.

He stood facing East, where the sun would have been topside. Hell's day and night cycle was weird, because instead of having an easily trackable orbit, the pentagram instead grew brighter and dimmer as the day went on. Right now it was late morning, so the sky was slowly lighting up bloody red, accenting the Hunter's still form. His weapons were in his hands, consisting of the strange, curved sword, and his personal pistol. His absent hat had been replaced with a similar tricorn, with it being eerily similar to his original one except it was made out of leather.

The Hunter heard their footsteps and turned to face them. The eyes of the three Imps and Hellhound told him they thought they were now ready for their final test. They were not, but neither was he. He had never been a teacher before; he was always the student. Maybe they would both learn something new today. "I hope all of you are prepared. Because everything I have put you through and all you have been preparing for has led to this moment." Saying this, he exchanged his pistol for a particularly old bone, attaching it to his waist before drawing his pistol again. Unsure of what its purpose was, I.M.P tensed up even further.

"Which is why I give one final proposal to you." That grabbed their interest, and they kept silent to allow him to continue. "If you win, you shall each receive one additional tool from my collection. If I win, however, you shall never see me again." His intention was clear. He was not holding back this time and wanted to see them fight. "Now…" He widened his stance, tensing his legs as if he was about to leap at them. "Come then, students of mine. Dance with me, and B̶̨̮͔̄̊͝l̶̢͓̳̄̄̃̚͝ẻ̴̢̡̛͚̻͛̕ḛ̴͔̣̰́̎̊̓̈̈͝ḑ̷̛̠̤̫̹̠͙́̑͒̚͘ͅ" And the Hunt was on.

Insert Bloodborne OST: Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower (Jaden-Core Music Version)

Wind blew past him, causing his coat to snap and flutter as he watched I.M.P immediately plan their first move for the fight. Each member firmly held their grip on their weapons. Internally going over attacks and counter attacks at a speed most couldn't even think. Though as they are about to make the first move, the Hunter beat them to it. With a single step forward, and a tensing in his legs, the Hunter vanished from where he stood, suddenly moving faster than he had any right to, heading straight for them. I.M.P sprang into action.

Blitzø gave a simple command. "Scatter! Show him what we're good for!" His colleagues and daughter nodded at him, then split into four directions, Moxxie and his boss going to the left and right while Loona and Millie closed the distance.

The Hunter took note of their tactic and quickstepped to the side, narrowly avoiding several wild swings from Loona's Beast Claws, which whistled at the speed they were moving. He lashed out with the saif, scoring a gash on her arm and forcing her to disengage. In the same moment, he had to duck under the axe that nearly split him in half again, but instead whistled over his head. He then had to sidestep again when it suddenly snapped down from where it had been returning to Millie, who had figured out another few tricks to fighting with essentially a fifty-pound chain. A few bullets whizzed past him as he narrowly moved between each one, the Old Hunter's Bone doing its best to keep him alive. Blitzø had seen where he was going to move and had aimed accordingly. Not bad, but it was his turn now. As he started to swing the short version of the Saif downwards towards Millie's exposed head, he didn't have time to react when a Quicksilver bullet struck his left side. The Sniper had expertly fired a shot that staggered him, causing him to fall on one knee in a temporary daze. Seeing him being temporarily down, he looked at his boss. "Now, Sir!"

"Don't need me to be told twice, dipshit!" He joked, rushing in while raising the Whirligig Saw up in the air.

Shaking his head, the Hunter saw what Blitzø was about to do, and quickly stood up just to barely dash out of the way of the attack. He then had to avoid another attack, this time from Millie's segmented Axe that lightly grazed his right shoulder. Already, he figured out what their plan was. "One attacker, and one distraction? A very successful tactic when fighting Beasts. However…" He transformed his Beasthunter Saif into its longer form. "They should switch their tactics now–" He was caught off guard when he felt a cloud of bullets impacting his chest.

This time, it was Loona who had fired her Blunderbuss while covering the wound the Hunter had inflicted on her. "Hey, idiot! Don't get sidetracked by your thoughts!" He let out a chuckle while somehow still out of breath. Of course, his student has to remind him of that.

"If you say so," He casually thought before he quickly dashed towards Loona with his extended Beasthunter Saif, dodging the Sniper's third attempt to headshot him, only to feel a heavy iron weight crush into him, before Millie tried launching him back towards Blitzø, who eagerly held up the saw in an attempt to (play with his toy even more) end the fight quick. The Hunter had seen this one coming, having done it alongside other Hunters once. The easiest way to get out of this was to remind them that he wasn't armed with merely one weapon.

Blitzø almost didn't feel the bullet until it had completely pushed his sternum inwards, propelling all the air from his lungs. As he collapsed to his knees, fighting for breath, the Hunter turned to the biggest problem. Moxxie felt a chill down his spine as the Hunter towards him, then vanished again, leaving the perfect headshot he had made with his rifle miss entirely. "Loona help me!" As she was the closest to him at the moment, he hoped that she would be able to do something to assist. She wasn't much help.

"I can't! This fucker won't stay still!" She bellowed, as the Hunter seemingly phased through her next shot, still approaching way too rapidly for comfort. The Hunter had never been this fast before! Yeah he was a slippery little shit, but not to this extent! He had dodged through some of those swings, and he had managed to move out of the way of most of the bullets they had sent his way. 'Something's up here but what could it be? That weapon? The hat? The-' "The bone! It's the bone! Whatever that bone is doing is making him faster!"

"Loona!"

"On it!" With these three exchanges, the plan had changed. Now the first goal wasn't to pin him down, it was to cut his speed so that they could then pin him down and rip him apart. Millie, understanding what they were up to, helped out by throwing as many wild swings in a row at the Hunter, so as to throw him off whenever Loona got in close. The Hunter wasn't deaf, and knew what they were planning now. He'd play along only until he could get one of them close enough to throw at Moxxie, then rush him while his vision was obscured. He was honestly lucky Moxxie hadn't decided to pull out the big guns early, as all of this dodging could be a lot harder if he was having to evade cannon balls and streams of bullets at the same time. He'd have to rectify that mistake. As Loona drew in close, the Hunter prepared himself to grab her to throw at Moxxie, and then shoot Millie to give him a chance to breathe. This didn't come to pass, due to Blitzø having got his breath back. His grab was cancelled when the entire ammo capacity of each repeating pistol dug into his back, getting him close enough for her to yank the bone from his belt, causing his speed to drop drastically. Another swing from Millie managed to connect, ripping down his front with a spray of blood.

This almost ended the fight. It didn't. The Hunter hadn't survived this long by letting things happen as they did, and Loona was still in range. Having expected the Hunter to still be rattled by the bullets in his back, Loona didn't expect him to suddenly lash out, carving into her side with that wicked blade, then kicking her hard enough to fling her towards Moxxie, who was so startled he barely caught her in time. Both fell over in a tumble of limbs and heavy metal, putting both out of the fight for the time being.

Two were momentarily down. Two remained. The Hunter slammed a Blood Vial into his right thigh, feeling the depleted energy coming back to him, and his flesh knitting together. The tables had turned. Now, he eyed Millie and Blitzø as if they were his prey. Rushing to them while regaining his momentum and ducking under Millie's swing, he swung the Beasthunter Saif across the front of the imp, leaving a large cut on her chest as he also used this time to sidestep Blitzø's thrust, grab him around the throat, and fling him towards his female colleague. Seeing all of them down for at least a few moments, he used this time to catch his breath. This fight thus far was very fun to partake in. Unlike the hunts of Yharnam, there was little chance of death or dismemberment. He now felt like a Beast that had been beset by particularly green Hunters. Looking back at the group that was shakily getting to their feet, he noticed that Moxxie was missing. Before he could wonder–

*BOOM*

A cannonball exploded at his feet, sending the Hunter flying backwards and landing very heavily on his back first a few meters away. Getting up from the ground, he turned to see where it came from. On the sidelines, he saw the missing Sniper, now holding the cannon and Gatling gun on each hand, pointing the latter on him. Seems he remembered he had them. 'Just what I needed.'

Moxxie held down the trigger on his Gatling gun, forcing the Hunter to quickstep repeatedly to dodge the hail of bullets hurling towards him. There were too many, some managed to graze him, slowing him down. It was during this he eyed his wife and Hellhound (despite being so hurt from the Hunter's vicious attacks), who all managed to formulate a rough plan using gestures, face cues, and mouthed words. Moxxie let off the trigger, to begin the next part that partly utilized the bone Loona had stolen.

As the gatling Gun no longer fired bullets, the Hunter used this opportunity to throw himself at the Sniper. If he didn't put him down now, he would be torn apart when they got their bearings. Getting closer, he was about to cut into the Imp when he got tackled by the Hellhound, whose red eyes glowed as she growled at him. In retaliation for ruining her clothes and making her bleed all over her new pants, she repeatedly stabbed him in the sides, ribs, and gut with her Claws. "How do you like that, shithead!?" She yelled in rage.

She got a response in the form of a kick from him, sending her tumbling backwards a bit. The Hunter got up and slammed another blood vial into his leg. A few seconds later, the wound was closed shut and despite being literally covered by his own blood, as well as I.M.P, he could still fight. "I have tasted far worse than that."

He was about to in fact. The second part of the plan had just begun. As the Hunter faced Moxxie and Loona, who stood in front of a still recovering Blitzø (who's lungs had been nearly crushed for the second time today), he failed to notice that one was missing. And then she drop kicked him from behind. Having a Imp made of pure muscle carrying a fifty pound axe would have been enough to send him flying, but this Imp was traveling faster than she had any right to, thanks to the bone clenched between her teeth. It tasted wrong on every level, and she could feel her energy being sapped, but she powered through it. Straight into the Hunter's back, which snapped.

The Hunter, who couldn't dodge thanks to his severed spinal column, could only brace himself as the final member of I.M.P recovered enough to raise his weapon and turn it on. It didn't do much, considering he was partially ground into mince, but the worst was yet to come. As the weapon turned off, and he slumped to the ground, he knew that I.M.P wouldn't be satisfied with just damaging him. They had seen how he could recover. He knew what they would do, given how many times he had done it himself. The Hunts he had been on that had progressed like this could only ever end in one way. The Imps had gathered their weapons, all shiny teeth and steely eyes, and the Hellhound's bones were creaking from how hard she was clenching her fists. As he lay there, stunned, injured, and broken, I.M.P gathered around his form, raised their weapons…

And slaughtered him.

And thus, the Hunt was over.

Bloodborne OST Ends

HOLY SHIT, THAT WAS A BATTLE! I Never knew the Hunter would (semi-intentionally) let I.M.P win in the fight. Now for their rewards.

Crimson Soldat: Yeah. Just wait for the next chapter. They'll get their bonus reward for being the first people (in Hell, damn you Maria) to even kill him four times now! Now, all I can say is that they are officially the first batch of Hell's Hunters!

HalfWitHillbilly: Aye, and what a way to go. The previous times we could handwave it away by having him survive as pieces but this? Ehhh… I'll figure it out. And hey! I.M.P actually learned teamwork before it bit them on the ass. And the Hunter's not really  dead  dead, just kind of… separated from his fleshy body. He'll get better.

CS: As for the next, we're going to make it very short. Three scenes in fact. Like, We have good plans. And, all I can say is the Hazbin Hotel Staff are going to return pretty much next chapter. We're gonna make it heartfelt.

HH: We have  okay  plans, but great aspirations. We'll see what they've been up to while the Hunter was bullying people. And you might even recognize a few of the new guys we introduce.

Damn right you will!

Comment down below what you want to see in future chapters? Don't worry, we got something in stock for the Hazbin Hotel since they've been gone for about three chapters now.

With that said, we'll see you in the next update!

Chapter 15: Not Alone Anymore

After four chapters, it's finally good to return to the Hazbin Hotel setting.

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

XV

Not Alone Anymore

Ten minutes later

I.M.P was breathing heavily, their wounds beginning to ache and adrenaline dying down while looking at the Hunter's "corpse". He was completely mangled after their fight. They would be hard pressed to find a single piece that could be described as anything other than "shredded". All of their weapons, clothes and every part of their body was entirely painted in the Hunter's blood, the same being said for five meters in any direction. The Hunter had a lot of blood in him.

Despite being victorious, they were starting to feel the effects of fighting a monster like that and winning. They all slowly crumpled to the ground, weapons falling from numb fingers in the process, and just lied there, breathing heavily, some keeping a hand to the larger gashes they had received, which were slowly fading into scars thanks to them having the foresight to eat ahead of time instead of after. They'd probably need to eat again to work up enough strength to drag their sorry asses home, but they could rest for a few moments at least.

"That was…huff…ONE HELLUVA FIGHT...huff…" Millie managed to utter while shakily raising her hand up in the air, raising high the bone that had made the difference. While polished and preserved, it was so old, like it had been in a museum for decades before getting pilfered by however many hands it took to get to hers. While it being able to make her faster was a neat trick, it was draining her faster than any workout she had ever tried before. She'd have to use this sparingly, or otherwise she'd pass out on the field.

Feeling the last dregs of strength escaping her, her arm slumped to the side, the bone flying from her limp fingers to land a few feet away, incapable of harming her further. She could barely do anything but look straight ahead into the bright (already? How long had the fight lasted?) sky, as every small annoyance she ignored with the willpower of a single mother of 3 came back at once.

Her hands were sore, and her arms felt like they were about to fall off from swinging her axe around as much as she did. The cuts the Hunter had given her weren't deep enough to be lethal, but still stung like a motherfucker. Her ribs hurt from where her boss had been thrown at her. The blood from her wounds and the Hunter's… everything…was starting to dry, and now she felt all sticky and gross. A rock was digging into her asscheek, and she didn't have the strength to get up to move it. The amount of bloodshed she had just gone through had made her hornier than a succubus in heat, but they were still too weak to do anything rough with her husband, given the extent of the damage and the blood they were still soaked in. 'Ooh, maybe he and I can snag ourselves a little 'showertime' together. Won't that be nice… especially with that trick he figured out with his fingers.'

As Millie lay there, deliriously fantasizing about her husband's new skills from his practice with Evelyn, the rest of I.M.P was getting what was left of their thoughts in order. Most of which were roughly the same.

"I'm gonna hit the showers after we recover," Loona announced, feeling awful on every meaning of the word. She was sticky, her fur was matted down, her hair was fucked, and her clothes ruined. She was gonna have to spend at least three hours under the highest settings just to get the smell out. She was barely keeping herself together and would kill anyone that tried to take the shower at the base before her.

"I'll do the same." Moxxie chimed in, feeling like he gained a couple pounds just from the weight of the Hunter's blood on him. He couldn't move if he wanted to.

'Murder it is.' While Loona was trying to telepathically tear Moxxie apart, Blitzø was coming off of the greatest high he'd ever felt in his life. The buzz of that saw and how it shook his entire being just by holding it was euphoric but had nothing on the feel of it rammed into the Hunter's insides, gutting him at a speed that professional butcher's couldn't be. And the noises! Oh sweet Lucifer the noises it made turning muscle and sinew into ground beef was heaven to his ears. This day couldn't get any better.

"Well….done," A wheezy, raspy voice echoed in the field, making them freeze in place. All laboriously turned to see the Hunter's fragmented head (Moxxie was desensitized by this point, but this was still unnerving) somehow still capable of speech. They regretted it soon after, because holy shit what the fuck.

Any flesh that was left on the head was ripped and deformed, and his nose was gone. Neither of his eyes were in their sockets, but both were somehow turned in their direction, and each member of I.M.P swore they were being stared directly at. The top half of the head was gone, a crushed hat splattered with brain resting atop the lower half. The jaw was missing most of its teeth, the cheeks peeled off. The lower jaw was fragmented, and missing a section in the middle where the incisors should have been. Yet somehow, the Hunter was talking to them.

Loona was gonna hit her limit someday. This, combined with everything else that had happened, just made her groan and close her eyes for a second, mentally staving off the headache that was building behind her forehead.

"You have….succeeded….your final….task. I…offer….my….last….reward."

The Hunter's right hand, missing two fingers and with the rest snapped in different directions, straightened out the remaining fingers with a chorus of snapping, then splayed them as if it were holding something. And then it was. A cloud of mist formed in the center of the palm, which spilled outwards to conceal the area for a moment. When the mist cleared, there were three bags on the ground, each with a name stitched on the front. Each bag was big and lumpy enough to hold anything from guns to bombs, so what was inside was a mystery.

"This is my…last…time…assisting you. From…this point…onwards….you must go….alone. I cannot…tell you…what…each tool…does. That is….for…you to…discover." The Hunter gave what might have been his final speech to I.M.P through tortured vocal cords (that were cut into pieces a few feet away), while his parts were slowly turning into the mist that had foretold his arrival and subsequent disappearances in their lives.

"I cannot…move…but know that…each of you have…gone further…than any I have…known before. Take…pride in your…efforts. You have…earned…far beyond what…you have…received." The Hunter was dissolving faster than before, now there was roughly half of his body left.

"But…know this. While you possess…strength and…skill beyond…what you ever…believed…possible…the world is…far less…forgiving than I. Beasts walk the…shadows while…monsters hide in…the light." The Hunter was practically evaporating now, but he wasn't finished.

"The work is…never easy but…it must be…completed…nonetheless. And this is…what…you must…do." His head exploded into mist, but not before leaving one final, chilling sentence.

"As Hunters…must….do."

And then he vanished.

I.M.P…. didn't know what to say. Or do. Was he just…gone? Dead? There's no way that he'd—

Millie's axe. It was edged with Angelic Steel. So was Loona's claw and Blitzø's saw.

They had gotten into it when they had started chopping into him, they had made most of the pieces with their new toys. They had killed the Hunter. FUCK.

-The Hunter's Dream-

Inside of the workshop, the Hunter, who had respawned for the first time in quite a long while, winced as he sat on a chair and had his wounds tended by the Messengers. His close friend watched from the sides with a blank expression. "Good Hunter, how do you fare with the wounds sustained from Angelic Steel?"

He winced at the alcohol the Messengers were applying to him. Despite his physical form not being a Sinner that can be permanently killed with Angelic weapons, it still stung like a bitch due to his 'unholy' nature. It seemed to damage his soul as much as his body, with him awakening still severely injured. The fight with I.M.P was useful to determine the effects of sustained 'holy' damage to his form, due to them being the only ones he trusted with his precious supply of pilfered metal. "Not what I truly expected. I believed that Angelic Steel, capable of destroying souls, would damage my soul rather than this body. Instead, it did both. Still, I.M.P has proven their mettle to be worth more than their words."

While this was happening, the Hunter was suffering under the effects of the holy metal. His physical form was useful for ventures like this, due to it not being his 'true' form. It was what allowed him to survive the previous injuries with little assistance from the blood he consumed (as of now, the blood was mostly used to add to his depleted blood supply when he lost too much. The rest was merely placebo) Though it did its job, there were areas where medical assistance was needed to cure wounds inflicted by Angelic Steel.

"Was your 'death' appropriate for those who have trained under you?" The Doll inquired.

"Yes. It was very easy to convince them. And they have very much earned it. The sheer brutality I faced at their hands would have made the most zealous priest quiver with fear of Hell's wrath. They will be fine Hunters indeed. But now that they have completed the basics," He responded as he felt his wounds fading away. "My part of our deal is done. Now, I may request their aid if I encounter something truly perilous."

"I see…" His close friend muttered as she saw him donning his attire. He gestured to her to hand him his tricorne hat (she was told it was a replacement to the one he's given to Millie) and placed it on top of its head. "The week you promised Charlie is nearly upon us. Are you planning to return?"

"Yes. Miss Morningstar would want to see me after all." He responded, fixing his tricorne on top of his head and rising from the chair. A cloud of mist appeared with the Messengers carrying his modified Angelic-Steel Saw Cleaver, which he picked up and slung on his back. After patting a few on the head, he turned to the Doll to give one final remark. "But first, I shall bid these brave Hunters farewell, and fair hunting."

Then he turned and disappeared into the mist.

-Scene Change-

The first thing that the Hunter registered when he entered the waking world behind the large, scraggly tree was a lot of noise. Sifting through the various sounds, he was able to piece together crying, someone eating at a very loud volume, and…. Singing?

The Hunter, perplexed by this, poked his head from behind the tree to see what was going on. It seems that all was well in this chunk of the world.

Millie was grieving for his 'death' and had piled some dirt together to stick a roughly-made pentagram on top, similar to graves topside. She was crying a comical amount, practically washing the blood off her face with the force alone.

Moxxie was another source of the crying, but was more subdued about it, with tears trickling down his face instead of gushing from eyes. He was also the source of the singing, giving a poor rendition of a funeral song through his sobbing.

Blitzø couldn't seem to care less about the Hunter's passing, having ordered an obscene amount of food, and was gorging himself in what looked like an attempt to die by heart failure. The only signs he gave that seemed he even remembered the Hunter was him picking his teeth using the ('Freshly polished? How long had it taken him?') side of the Whirligig as a mirror.

Loona was ….also a source of the crying? It seems Miss Loona had a heart aft- Never mind she's mourning her clothes and hair. It seems she poured water and had run a brush through her hair in an attempt to clean off the blood, to no avail. Somehow, she was eating while crying, shoveling fries into her mouth like a starving Beast. Something new every day with this group it seemed.

'Excess and Vanity plague them both. I suppose they are alike in more ways than thought possible. Enough dillydallying. Finish this.'

The Hunter stepped from behind the tree, announcing his presence with a small cough, just as a simple, final test of their attentiveness.

Moxxie, ever the sharp eye, went ramrod still upon seeing him in one piece. Sweat dripped down his face, it seems he thought the Hunter was vengeful (he was, but not to them. Fucking boars). Attentive, but freezing in place? A non-spectacular reaction. Pass.

Millie kept on crying, oblivious to the world around her. Given her grief, this was to be expected, but still. Mourning the loss of a comrade on the field was the quickest way to get claws through your back. She did, however, look up after realizing Moxxie had stopped singing, and she froze in place too. Took her long enough. Pass.

Blitzø and Loona were both so engrossed in their indulgences that neither looked up for a split second. Worst thing a Hunter could do was ignore a suspicious noise. Fail-

*BANG*

*CLUNG*

*SMASH*

A gunshot rang out, ricocheting off of Blitzø's saw causing him to choke on the hot dog he was eating, and smashing the bottle Loona had lifted to her face, causing her to be soaked in beer.

Now they reacted, with Blitzø sputtering out the last bits of hotdog in his lungs while grabbing the saw and revving it in one swift motion. Loona shook the beer from her face as she raised her blunderbuss towards the 'threat'. Both were combat ready-ish, which was better than sitting on their asses. Pass

"Well done! I am proud to announce that your training has been completed! You are now Hunters one and all!" The Hunter gave this as his greeting, fully announcing himself to I.M.P. They were still shellshocked, so he gave them a moment to recover.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" Aaand there it was. Each member of I.M.P started yelling for wildly different reasons in various ways. Moxxie seemed to have reached the end of his rope, and was ranting and raving at the Hunter, berating him for a thousand different grievances. Millie had started crying again, this time in relief that he had survived. More tears than before somehow. Blitzo was just talking at a normal volume, still rendered mostly deaf by the saw and probably didn't know that everyone was yelling.

Loona was… To say 'frothing at the mouth' wasn't giving her credit. She was flaming at the mouth, tongues of fire slipping from between her bared teeth to curl around her eyes, which are bloodshot and glowing red. It seems while tearing his guts out had been cathartic, seeing him alive and well was not.

He'd have to hurry then, to prevent her from tearing his throat out again. One final speech perhaps? Or a few words that would provide clarity to the situation? Hmm. Oh right, his deal with Blitzø. He needed to finalize that.

He turned to the Imp, who (along with Moxxie and Millie) seemed to have run out of things to say and was now just staring at him while breathing heavily. The Hunter decided to aid his temporary comrade by bopping him on the head, popping his eardrums out the other way (HH: Yeah I know this ain't how ears work this is fiction sue me ). Blitzø cried out in pain, then realized he could hear himself crying out, then looked back to the Hunter, who cleared his throat.

"Blitzo, my end of the deal is done. It is time for you to go through with yours."

That word carried a lot of weight. This wasn't just making a promise to a coworker, this was making a deal with a devil! It was far too late. Whatever 'help' he asked of them, Blitzø hoped that it wouldn't be insane. Swallowing heavily, he asked "W-What's on your end of this? Just as a reminder."

"I receive your support, if I am ever to come into a situation that requires more than just one Hunter. There are darker things in this world than demons after all. I have seen them; they have seen me. Sooner or later, you shall too."

Well fuck. Anything the Hunter needed help with was gonna suck ass. Whatever cryptic bullshit he was talking about, Blitzø wanted nothing to do with it. Not that he had a choice.

"We'll help when we can," he said, offering his hand.

"No. Only when I need you. Strong you may be, ready you are not. Winning one fight will not win them all. Fight, persevere, grow." And with this, the Hunter took the offered hand.

Blitzø's very soul pulsed with power. He and all of I.M.P had felt it. This was a capital D Deal, not some pissy shit like selling yourself for shelter. After dropping the Hunter's hand, he looked for the mark, all deals had one. He found it.

A strange symbol on the back of his hand, an upside-down trident with right angles and a dot at the bottom. It wasn't a gold band or tooth like normal deals were, this one was a black and red brand, and blended into his flesh enough that only a close inspection would notice it.

Fuck! Loona! He whipped his head around to the other members of I.M.P. They all had the mark too, and each were nervously glancing between the literal oath they had made and the one they had made it with. Damnit, after all he'd done to try and keep her out of his messes. He turned back to the Hunter to give him a piece of (what was left) of his mind, then stopped dead.

A neat thing about Deals, they showed you how powerful the demon you had sold your soul to was, in order to let you know just how fucked you really were. Some of the more sadistic ones got their rocks off from seeing the despair on someone's face when they knew they were helpless.

A deal between a pimp and a prostitute would have shown the poor fuck that the slime that they trusted with their existence was just an undertow in a river, hiding their true nature until you were sucked under.

A deal between an Overlord and some unlucky shit would have been an inferno, because you might as well have burned your soul than give it to them.

A high noble was akin to a bright city, due to their complicated ways of doing deals and contracts with triple checked spelling and loophole prevention. This one he knew, having temporarily made one with Stolas before they switched to just fucking.

Any of the Sins? Get fucked, you're never reaching the bottom of that ocean.

But the Hunter? The Hunter was a Moon. I.M.P felt like they were staring into the night sky topside, but each felt and saw something different.

Millie was surprised by what she saw but didn't understand the gap in power. All she saw was the moon and stars in the sky, looking down upon her. She hadn't seen the moon often, but now she felt…safe, under this one. Its warm glow seemed to make all other aches and pains wash away, leaving her feeling serene under the soft light.

How? Loona was at a loss again. The Moon was staring back at her. Where did the Hunter get all this power from? What the fuck was going on!? How could he be so…so…great? AAUGH! THIS WAS SO FRUSTRATING!

Moxxie had learned a few things from older demons, so he knew when things were fucked. Eldritch. He had heard of their kind before. Similar to how topside you couldn't trust strangers; in Hell you couldn't trust Eldritch beings. In Hell you could walk shoulder to shoulder with Hitler and Dahmer, but you crossed the street if the old man coming your way was speaking in a dead were old, one and all, most having been around before Earth existed. Some were said to have predated HIM, but it was unlikely that any had hidden long enough to turn out like this! The moon was covered in eyes, all looking directly at him.

Blitzo saw a writhing, formless mass of teeth and claws and flesh and limbs and hair and a million billion eyes all peeling his very soul, and he sighed, because once again he had eaten too many hotdogs and was now hallucinating. He might actually have to cut back this time, no matter how loathsome a diet may be.

The Deal was sealed. I.M.P finally knew what they had gotten themselves into, and what the Hunter really was.

"Also, I have one final thing of note."

I.M.P tensed up once again, hoping against hope he wasn't cashing that favor now or dragging them into more bullshit.

"I took the liberty of giving you appropriate attire. You're welcome."

Without any further ado, he stepped back behind the tree, and disappeared into mist.

I.M.P looked down at the clothes that had appeared on them, and the shouting started again.

-Scene Change-

After spending another day within the Hunter's Dream to fully recover, the Hunter emerged in the front gates of the Hotel, a week that felt like a year later. As the host of the Dream, he no longer requires a lamp to go towards different locations, as long as he visits them in person first.

Though, he sometimes uses it for simpler things. For instance, using it as a means of escape when I.M.P was on the warpath…which made him unconsciously hold a hand to his left side. They would be great; he was sure of it.

Approaching the front door, he could already hear the patrons bantering to one another. They had probably done another interesting activity while he was "resting" (if you can count being shot resting, he could very much call this a vacation). Breathing in deeply, then releasing it, he knocked on the door.

Inside the hotel, everyone, who was discussing the exercise they recently undertook (Charlie tried to introduce knitting to them. Husk made a scarf, Angel a set of shibari ropes, and Niffty an excellent quality braided noose), stopped talking and snapped their attention to the door. Husk couldn't see who, but only three people in Hell actually knocked on doors instead of kicking them in. One was the only Overlord that bothered to call in advance, the other was present, so that left one possibility of who could be behind the door. "What do you know? The Hunter's back."

Flight or fight reacted, Pentious chose flight, and dove inside one of the cupboards with enough force that the doors slammed shut. Sticking his head out of an entirely different cupboard somehow, he hissed "H-He'ss–ss back!?" (No one at the Hotel knew you could have a hiss tremble. Good to know) He was shaking so hard his hat nearly fell off as he remembered what the Hunter did to him, and he was scared he'd finish where he'd left off.

Angel brought his phone and checked to see that a week had indeed passed since the Hunter had left. "Oh, shit! He's back already!? That was a quick fucking week. I completely forgot he's part of this salvation bullshit."

Despite being on the balcony within the Hotel, Charlie's hellborn ears heard the conversation from below. 'He's back!' Without a second to waste, she bolted down the stairs (NOT running, since ladies don't run downstairs wearing heels, her dad had taught her).

Bypassing her girlfriend, and the others (mainly Alastor who's smile twisted even further at this), she twisted the knob and opened it. On the other side saw the man that she was worried would disappear. "Miss Charlie–" He was eventually cut when the Princess wrapped her arms around him and gave him a much-needed hug (to her, at least). He smelled like so many old things, like old blood and rain and metal and lantern oil. His coat was the most pliable leather(? Don't think about it) she'd ever felt, but under it was the scarred and muscled body of one who had killed, bled, died.

"Welcome back, Hunter." She spoke to him in a soft, quiet tone, her chin resting on his right shoulder.

The Hunter was… stunned. It had been so long since he had actually touched another in a way that wasn't ripping a vital organ out or them ripping one off his out. He didn't know what he was feeling, truth be told, but she was warm against his chest, and he felt so, so cold everywhere else. He could barely feel anything else, only this blissful warmth. But he felt her trembling, and sensed she was close to bursting into tears by hearing her sniffs. He…has no idea how to comfort her. How long has it been since he has comforted anyone? "Miss Charlie Morningstar?"

Though she didn't like anyone referring to her by her full name, it was only appropriate at this time. She eventually broke the hug but kept her hands on his shoulders. She smiled sadly at him. "Hunter, there's something I want you to know. We need to go somewhere private."

The Hunter had a feeling it was related to the incident last week. "I will, whenever I can."

"Not before I give some words to the Hunter." With this, Charlie was moved aside, and Vaggie stepped up in her place. "I owe you something too!" It turns out, she owed him a fist to the nose. Normally, the Hunter would have just sidestepped or dodged out of the way of the attack, but the warmth from the Princess had stunned him long enough for—

*POW!*

The Hunter found himself flat out on the ground, with his face smarting a touch and a small amount of blood leaking from his semi-cracked nose. Vaggie got the worse end of the trade, cradling her possibly dislocated fingers while swearing under her breath. It seems, for all her strength, his face was simply stronger than forged steel. She was still able to damage him, so a point in her favor.

"Vaggie!" Charlie, ever the bleeding heart, immediately rushed to his assaulter's aid. Unfair. "We don't attack guests, no matter what they may have done!"

"He put you in a coma! He gave me a heart attack! I should be doing a lot more than tickling his nose for fucks sake!" Vaggie had very much earned the scratch she gave the Hunter, and he couldn't blame her. It was incredibly suspicious, him disappearing and her falling into a deep sleep shortly after. He owed her this much then.

"Forgive me, I know I have overstepped."

The two lovers turned to see the Hunter had bent at the waist instead of getting up, so he was still out on his ass while looking Vaggie in the eye. It was almost comical, if not for the situation at hand.

"I should have done more than essentially leaving a note and bailing, so please, Miss Vaggie." The Hunter got up fully, dipping very low into a Victorian style bow, his ('New? When the Hell did that happen?) hat nearly touching his toes.

Now Vaggie felt bad, the Hunter was being way too sincere for any normal denizen of Hell. She almost felt bad for him. Almost. Instead, she gave him a critical eye. "Just because you're a guest of the hotel, that doesn't give you the free range of doing malicious things to others. I don't know what your journal did to Charlie, but it won't happen again. Do you understand now?" Instead of forcing an agreement from him, she was content with this.

"I understand," He stated, acknowledging every word she said. And his nose had finished healing, so now she didn't feel nearly as bad as she did before.

Charlie held onto one of his hands and pulled him to his feet (It took a lot more effort than Charlie would want to admit. He must have been at least two hundred pounds!), then guided him to the couch in a private area. Both of them sat down while she kept holding onto his hand. "Miss, What did you wish to share with me?" The Hunter couldn't help but ask.

"I read your…journal, Hunter. I didn't know you carried such a burden. But you have to know this…" The Princess looked at him with teary eyes. "You aren't alone. Not anymore. I know the pain and sadness you carry is immense, but we're here to help you through it. The Hotel will always try to redeem Sinners, and we will help ease your pain, your guilt, and your suffering. It's gonna be okay." With this, she took his head with both of her hands and looked directly into his eyes. "I promise."

The Hunter felt Charlie's oath blanketing him, a comforting warmth rather than a crushing weight. So this was what it felt to be truly…safe. He memorized it, savored it, but if Charlie was right, he'd feel this way all the time. She promised, after all. Easier said than done, but he could feel the determination in Charlie's soul, as he could see it in her fiery, burning red eyes.

Unlike the lesser beings of Hell (this included everyone), the Hunter didn't have the luxury of choosing to see the facades presented by the various souls he had met. Instead, he was cursed with seeing the true faces of Hell. While the Imps were a breath of fresh air, he was not so lucky with the other members of the hotel.

Husk was, aptly named, a husk of what once was. A hollow, empty shell of the cat sinner that talked and drank copious amounts of alcohol. Empty sockets staring at him didn't phase him as much anymore. Gambling your soul away is a lot more dangerous when it's an Overlord you're dealing to.

Angel was simply a grotesque, pink and white spider. Many eyes, but most were blinded by choice, leaving him two to work with. Needle marks up and down the body, signs of drug abuse. Bloated with excess, yet starved with feeling, he was disgusting to look at, a culmination of man's self-hatred. A gold V was stamped into him, proudly showing off who he belonged to.

Niftty was strange to look at, but too familiar all the same. A churning, changing mass of flesh and eyes and teeth, desperately clinging to innocence as a means of escape. A tortured, broken soul twisted into a new form from years of pain and abuse. She was reminiscent of Ludwig, in that he wondered how something so obviously not human could have more humanity than others. Who she was before was uncertain, such was the extent of her transformation.

Vaggie didn't have much change, but it was obvious what she used to be. A shattered halo, tiny fragments still spiralling above her head. Wings, ripped and torn off, as if with a piercing weapon, hovering silently where they used to hang. A Fallen Angel. Had he not known this prior, he would have seen her as just another aggressive Sinner, when she was anything but.

Alastor was easy to see and easier to understand. An elk, with shadowy antlers that twisted and grasped at anything that came near, desperate to take more and more to fill the yawning mouth in his heart, his hunger the root of his wickedness. And that grin. The Cheshire Cat would have felt shame had he seen this smile, with too many teeth and too many eyes. Black, grasping, evil. There was not a spark of hope anywhere in his soul, too entrenched in his persona he was.

The Princess' twin dogs were great serpents, changing their very nature to fit the forms Charlie had chosen for them. Their loyalty knew no bounds, as dogs tended to.

The Princess herself…

The Hunter had heard the tales from the priests and pastors of his days. The various churches loved to compare their enemies to the worst creatures they knew, decrying their very existence as blasphemy and evil. He had heard the descriptions, seen the paintings, the stained-glass windows. Sometimes in Yharnam he thought he'd seen one himself, and it wouldn't have surprised him in the least.

But this… this was nothing like they had said. Red skin and goat horns gave way to skin whiter than paper, horns smoother and sharper than glass. Mouths full of jagged teeth and lips twisted into rictus grins, instead had the straightest, cleanest teeth in existence, with soft lips set in a gentle, caring smile. Eyes of burning coal, showing him visions of torture and depravity, were replaced with burning red eyes crying tears of blood, showing him that she wanted to help. Where the churches had described a devil, he saw before him a Demon.

A Demon that had cared more about him than any other.

And the Hunter wept.

-Scene Change-

I.M.P had finally managed to drag their sorry asses back to base, where each did whatever thing, they could in order to stave off the coming sleep. Moxxie and Millie were planning on spending some time in their shower at home, so they were waiting to go home for the day. Blitzø was used to being soaked in bodily fluids, so this wasn't as big a deal for him, but it was annoying to feel everything sticking together. Loona had commandeered the shower and had threatened a swift and bloody end to anyone that dared interrupt her. Blitzø feared the water bill already.

"Oh yeah boss, what should I do with this… key?" Millie was, of course, referring to the 'key' the Hunter had given her.

"Eh, put it with the rest." Blitzø didn't really care, a key was a key in his eyes. And all the keys got hung up with the rest. It was a huge collection of keys, stolen or otherwise, hanging from the spikes of a particularly nasty whip Millie had found a while back.

"Gotcha, I'll mark it so we know what it is." Millie was reaching for a marker to write 'workshop' in big blocky letters but was interrupted by Moxxie.

"Honey, I'm pretty sure that's the only key of it's like hanging up over there. Not like we'd find a second piece of skin that opens… wait, what exactly does it do?" Moxxie had almost forgotten what the Hunter had said about it. He called it a key? But what did it open?

"Hold on lemme get a look. This might be similar to the Grimoire, so it better get a look at it." The strip was dutifully handed off to their boss, who inspected the- in Millie's eyes- complete gibberish.

"Let's see here…" He began to inspect the leather. "G̸̡͑̄͑̓͂̔́ơ̸̡̫̰͔̻̓͋̌̌͗̊̈̚͘͜͠ ̸̲̻͉̜̤͈͇̜͖̍̄̂t̷̩̼͔͇̮̪̃̉̐̈́͝ơ̷̢̧̛̳̩̼̠͈̣̟̪͋͌́̋̂̀̔͝ ̵̹͓̤̓͆̍̔̉͒͗Ḥ̴̡̟͓̪͕̯͚̥͕̝̹̅̃́̌̿ú̷͚̦̣͙̒̔̀̓̓͒͛̐̽n̶̙̂ẗ̶͙̳̩́̄ͅĕ̴̱̟̙͇͗̀͐͛r̴̡̲̗͈̬̹̩͙̻̓͌̏͠ͅͅ'̷̡̗̱̙̣̺̫̤̓̔̊̍́̐̈̂̋̕̚͜ͅͅs̷͎͚͌͒̊̈̏͒͛̀͐ ̴̡͉͖̳̈́̽̓̓͗͘ͅḌ̸̰͚̠̩̄̒͐͊̒̎̓͂̕̕r̴̗̜̩̯̗̟̀͑́͘e̴̩̰̠͕̠͉̫̍̕͝ͅa̶̺͚̘͍͈̿̂͊͛̍̇m̴͎͋ ̵̖̗̮͔̦̍͌̌̔̍̂̉͋:̸̛̩͎͓̟͔̰̈́̏͑̉̐̅̀ͅͅ ̸̢͓̮͔̗̲̳̇̀͠W̴͚͙̣̲̦͈̭͖̲̩͉͙̍̃̇̿͆̊͠͠ȏ̸̯̳̝͍̓͛͐̏̎͑̓̓̕͝ȓ̶̬k̴̬̩̃̆̃̀s̶̡͈̳̮͇̝͓̉̓͊̔͝ȟ̶͈̘͈͍͎̰̖͉̺̲̝͂͌̍̀̄̀̊̀ơ̸̢̨̟̥͈͎͍͔̮̪̣͆͐̐̔͋̈ͅṗ̵̧̫̥͙̳̤̹̲̼̟͇"

As Blitzø spouted what sounded like nails on a chalkboard, all of I.M.P (minus Loona who was still in the shower) suddenly burst into mist.

-The Hunter's Dream-

"Greetings, newest Hunters. Welcome to the Workshop."

Those were the first words I.M.P heard upon waking in this strange place after they had fallen asleep in the mist. In front of them was a woman that was neither Human or Demon. Instead, it was a Doll in Victorian-Styled clothing (Blitzø's dick didn't feel good upon this knowledge) that was standing on the left side of the stairway that led to a workshop.

They were still wearing their new outfits and felt as if their wounds had healed up.

Blitzø was wearing what looked like a leather version of the Hunter's armor, Millie was wearing white golden robes, with metal studs along the trim and leather gauntlet-like sleeves that covered her hands like gloves. Moxxie was… wearing a dress. Why? Chalk it up to the Hunter's whimsy. Loona, while not present, was given a harrowed and tattered set of leather clothes, which looked badass with how much of her arms they showed off.

"Who are you and what is this place!?" Millie was first to speak up from all of this confusion, readying her axe.

The Doll tilted her head, unbothered by the threat she received. Instead, she replied very calmly. "I am a Doll, and you are all in the Hunter's Dream. It is a pleasure to see all of you in person." She gave a polite bow.

Naturally, Blitzø got confused and was barely able to blurt it out from all of this crap. "The fucking what!?"

"Um, Sir. I think this is the Workshop the Hunter mentioned to us," Moxxie reminded him, recollecting the "key" he has given to him and the others.

Millie looked around the area and did a few sniffs before looking back at her boss. "Yeah. Now that I think about it, this place kinda smells like him. Or rather, he smells like he's been here a while. Looks that way too, her clothes have the same style." Now that she'd looked at the Doll's outfit, it seems to have the Hunter's particular sense of fashion to it.

"The Good Hunter has tasked the Little Ones to guide you in this Dreamscape." The Doll informed, making the group tilt their head. Before they even speak, ghastly, gurgling groans were heard where their feet were. They looked down and were quite startled to see a cluster of disfigured creatures spawn from a pool of blue liquid, waving friendly at them which made them curse out.

"The fuck are these failed abortions!?"

"Where did they come from!?"

"How the fuck are they even alive!?"

"They didn't seem to be Little Ones!"

What a chapter. The Hunter is now comforted by Charlie and is now going to partake in the Hotel's shenanigans. And now, I.M.P are officially Hunters. We'll see their training get in full use in a duology that the episodes are straight from the series, which will be heavily AU.

Crimson Soldat: Seems as though his insights caused him to see what they truly are. And I am particularly interested in how he knows that Vaggie is a Fallen Angel, it wouldn't go well since he has killed six hundred in the past three years.

HalfWitHillbilly: Aye, he knows, but she doesn't. If she finds out, well I guess we'll see how spear proof he really is. Maybe she'll go easy and only give him a few hundred pokes before trying (futilely) to strangle him.

CS: Next chapter will follow the Hazbin Hotel's trust exercise. Oh boy, the Hunter's gonna have a time there. He'll eventually apologize to Pentious soon.

HH: He's learned his lesson from I.M.P, no surprises and he won't be beaten apart.

Comment down below what you want to see in future chapters!

With that said, we'll see you in the next update!

Chapter 16: Trust is Earned

Nothing to say this time. Except we may be uploading chapters slowly due to personal lives getting in the way. For that, we’re gonna make a two-week schedule update.

A Hunter’s Guide for Running a Hotel

XVI

Trust is Earned

Eighty-Five Days until the Next Extermination

Charlie patiently waited outside of the Hunter’s room for today’s activity. Everyone was waiting for the both of them, but that wasn’t the reason she was here. She wanted to check up on him to be sure if he was alright from yesterday. He had let out a lot of tears after she had given him her promise of helping him, and she comforted him by hugging him tightly (While Vaggie was jealous about this, the Princess informed her that it was alright by giving her a bit more than a hug that same night). After he had stopped, he thanked her, then went to his room for the night. She hoped that it had helped, even a little. Charlie was a girl of her word after all, and she’d be damned (could you damn a demon further? Better not find out) if she went back on it. 

Clearing her throat, she announced her presence with a gentle wakeup of lightly tapping on his door, then stepped back.

A couple of minutes had passed before she heard noises in the Hunter’s room. Straightening up, she heard the doorknob twisting and it soon opened. The Hunter exited the room, but she noticed that his eyes were red, and his hair was messy. “Hunter, are you…okay?”

The Hunter drew in a deep breath, one that seemed to rattle his very soul. It seems last night had shaken him further than he’d want to admit. Then he let it out, a bit more controlled and forceful.

“I…I am fine Miss Morningstar. Thank you for…being there for me. It means a great deal more than you could ever know.” The Hunter had a slight wobble to his voice, but he seemed to sober up slightly as he finished. Drawing himself higher, he adjusted his hat, patted his cheeks, then turned and nodded to her. “Shall we be off then?”

Charlie nodded back, then walked to the stairwell with him, trying to spark up idle chat on the way. It was evident the Hunter was at least trying to converse back, but he was so woefully out of date it was surreal. He didn’t have a Sinstagram account, and he didn’t have one because he didn’t have a phone, he didn’t have a phone because he didn’t know what it was, and the most modern piece of tech he owned was a telegraph! Where had he even found one in Hell!? 

While it was an odd conversation, it soon ended when the pair reached the lobby, where the others were (impatiently) waiting. Pentious was nowhere to be seen, Niffty was juggling knives, and Angel was busy flirting with Husk (which pissed him off and drank a cup of ethanol-laced coffee). Vaggie, who was watching over the guests and staff, turned to the two. Seeing them caused her to cross her arms. “Well, you two took your time.” She shifted her gaze at the Hunter. “You better participate, Hunter. Don’t forget, you’re one of us, now.”

“Aye,” He responded. His ears caught someone hiding under the couch. He caught the top of Pentious’s head peeking out and was akin to a scared cat, hiding under the first thing it could. “Hey, come on now. There’s no need to be afraid.” 

“A-Asssssss-ssss if, Mister Hunter,” The snake demon hissed at the Hunter. “I am not going to invoke your wrath!”

“You won’t,” He tried to assure the Snake Sinner. He had had a hard time resisting the urge to rip those extra eyes off -he still did-, but Charlie won’t like it. He refused to act out of instinct. Seeing the fruits of his unintentional labor caused him to look at the Princess. “It will take a while to get him to trust me, but I will do it nonetheless.” Charlie nodded, happy that he had already made progress in mending his relationship with Pentious.

-Scene Change-

 

After getting the Snake Sinner out from underneath the couch, he stood with the others in front of a stage (that was set up earlier before Charlie checked if the Hunter had died in his sleep.) Speaking of the devil, he was a fair distance detached, for the sake of Pentious. Right now, he was watching the Princess in front of the stage. "Hi, guys. Thanks for coming! It's been brought to our attention that there may be some tension in the hotel."

While this was happening, there was blatant hatred among the group. Angel Dusk attempted to kiss Husk, who shoved a rather foul-smelling sock in his place. While Angel was gagging his guts up, Sir Pentious’ paranoia snapped, and he grabbed Niffty with his tail with his ray gun leveled at her head. He was about to shoot her but froze once he realized he was doing this in front of the Hunter, who was glaring (attempting a placid stare) directly at him. This made him feel like a deer in headlights, which Vaggie used to confiscate his weapon. "Tension that can be counterproductive to what we're trying to do here."

"We think that this group could really benefit from…" Charlie announced as she and Vaggie jumped off the stage. "Trust exercises."

"Trust exercises." Her girlfriend spoke with heavy sarcasm before realizing she was about to fall. "Ah, shit!" She slammed face first onto the ground while Charlie landed on both of her feet.

"Vaggie," Charlie called out to her, pulling her up before facing her. "We rehearsed this." She let out a sigh before looking back at everyone. "We're doing trust exercises!"

"So, what's with the whole, uhh, this?" Husk asked as he gestured to the stage behind the two girls, Angel having recovered from his attempted gassing. "I'm not about to put on some show for these fucking chumps."

"Oh, I will!" Angel spoke as he put his feet on Husk's legs. "But it's cash up front, and I know that one can't afford me."

He gestured his fingers towards Pentious, causing him to retort in disgust. "Gross! I'd never think of it, spider!" At the same time, the Hunter disapprovingly shook his head at this statement. While not caring of one’s own desires, the Hunter had a different reason. Whatever form the Spider chose, he could not see, so he felt nothing when looking down at that thing.

"Right… Well, let's get started." Vaggie spoke with a fair amount of strain in her voice before looking at her girlfriend. "Charlie?"

"I thought maybe you could take the lead on this one." Her girlfriend spoke to her. "I trust everyone, so maybe you know better how to build it properly!" She then walks over to Angel, Husk, Niffty, Pentious, and the Hunter before standing next to them.

Vaggie needed clarification on that. "What? Uhh, I don't know if I'm qualified, uh..."

"Oh, come on. It'll be easy! I'm sure you can handle this." Charlie said to her girlfriend with assurance.

"Yeah, um…" She looked to the others, who looked back with bland indifference. "Sure, I can handle this. No problem." 

She took in a deep breath before walking down to the stage and spoke in a drill sergeant tone. "All right, look at me!”, she said, stamping her foot down. Even having never been in any form of military, sans the Hunter, all of the present Sinners immediately snapped to attention, standing in a perfect line formation. “We are starting with trust falls! Each of you will share something vulnerable about yourself with the group, then fall backwards while the rest of the group catches you.” As Vaggie explained this, she was pacing in front of the assembled people, causing each to tense up when she was in front of them, as if fearful of being singled out. Even the Hunter wasn’t spared, his body language screaming in fear as sweat broke out on his face. When she reached the end, she turned and stepped towards the center, then faced the group. “Got it? Who wants to go first?" This broke the spell that she seemed to hold on them, as each member slumped or stretched out, wary of the hold she had on them.

In truth, it had been the Hunter’s fault for this. His uncle used to be a sergeant in the army, and was particularly harsh when it came to discipline. When she had given that command, it was like he was fifteen again, hoping against hope that uncle wouldn’t find even a hair out of place, or he’d have to run laps against the dogs. That memory had bled to the other Sinners, infecting their thoughts with the same fear and tension that he had felt, all those summers ago.

In the real world, Charlie raised her hand up in the air and placed her hands on her girlfriend. "Ooh, ooh, me me me! Me! Me! Me!"

Vaggie had a deep, internal sigh, completely expecting this. "All right, get on up here." She immediately spoke to her, making the Princess of Hell walk past her onto the stage.

Once on the platform, she looked at everyone else with a cheerful expression. "I, I love you guys. Like, really, really love you." She proceeds to fall backwards in hopes that she will be caught by a particular person.

As she did, someone else had caught her instead. Charlie looked up to see what should have been her girlfriend, but was surprised by who had caught her in a hold that seemed practiced beyond measure (and it was, due to the many times he had had to catch a fellow Hunter that was unfortunate enough to have flung by the claws or jaws of a Beast. They were always bleeding badly, so it was best not to jostle them). “Hunter?”

“Are you alright, Miss Morningstar?” He asked.

“I-I’m fine, thank you.” The Princess spoke, flustered at the fact she felt the Hunter’s muscled hands under his leather gloves on her back. He was strong for some(thing?)one of his size, not even straining to carry her.

“Hunter…” Vaggie spoke in a stern tone upon seeing him carry her girlfriend. ‘It should have been me! I was supposed to be there, I was supposed to be under her, damn you for being so fast!’ While Vaggie internally seethed, the Hunter gently placed Charlie onto the ground.

The mentioned individual looked at her. "Yeah. You said something about everyone doing the catching after revealing something vulnerable."

Charlie thought it was sweet that he had actually attempted, unlike the others (Angel was on his phone again, Husk was wistfully glancing at his bar, and Niffty was staring into thin air and giggling at something no one else heard.)

Seeing this (admittedly gushy) sight caused Vaggie to get unnerved by it and separated the two. "Alright, I think that's enough."

"But Vaggie, that felt good!" Her girlfriend cheered in excitement before turning to look at another person. "Angel, why don't you go next?"

"Fiiiiiiinnnnneeeee…" He groaned as he walked onto the stage.

"This time, everyone needs to catch him, okay? Unless you want me to hurt you." Vaggie warned as she took out her spear as a means of discipline for the others to come closer to the stage, which they eventually did. 

Once the porn star got on set, he was pondering what to say. "Somethin' about myself, huh?" An idea popped into his mind. "How about this? I LOVE to suck—"

"I swear to fuck if you say dicks!" Husk said as he threateningly pointed at Angel.

"Popsicles, ya sicko! Get your mind outta the gutter!" Angel assured before falling down from the stage and got caught by the bartender. He looked up at him once he was in the other man's arms. "But, you know, dicks too!" And that made Husk drop him. As his turn was over, he looked at the snake-like demon. While rubbing his back. "All right, new guy, you're up."

The room suddenly became dark, and everyone turned to the stage. They saw a spotlight shone over Sir Pentious as he put a hand over his shoulder. "I... don't want to live without my minions. Nobody will catch me!" He proceeds to fall backwards, where he is eventually caught by Charlie, and Vaggie. The Hunter had decided not to, because he didn’t know how the Snake would react if he was suddenly grabbed by him. This caused him to cuss out. "Damnit!"

"That's great," Vaggie said in appreciation until she felt his skin. "Wow, you are slimy." She then dropped him, which he used to slither back to safety, away from the Hunter. Now that most of them have done their part, only three remain. Vaggie then turned to look at the smallest of the bunch. "Okay, good job. Uh, Niffty?"

Said the girl, immediately running to the stage while manically giggling before putting her hands behind her back and revealing something about her. "Sometimes, I kill mother-bugs in front of their children as a warning to others!"

Just hearing this caused the others to get unsettled by this sadistic comment she made. Niffty then flung herself off of the stage. However, the others actively moved out of the way to let her hit the ground. Well, nearly everyone.

The Hunter, while mildly wary of Niffty’s tendencies, was not heartless, so he attempted to catch her. Attempted, because instead of landing safely in his arms, she slammed into his chest hard enough for the whole room to hear her bones creak. She then slid down his front like a bug on a windshield, then splattered against the ground. This managed to disturb even the Hunter, who took a step back to assess her well-being. 

Niffty seemed to take great pleasure in this and raised her arms up in the air while cheering. "YAY, PAIN!"

“Alright uhh, Hunter! Your turn!” Charlie played a rapid-fire game of Eenie Meenie Mynie Moe between Husk and the Hunter to decide who would go next. 

The room seemed to drop a few degrees. All noise seemed to be muffled. Each person could only hear their own heartbeat, as the Hunter slowly ascended to the stage. Each Sinner could not lie to themselves, they were scared. The kind of vulnerability you’d find with someone- no something like him is the kind of secret that could make them disappear. Even if it wasn’t some dark, terrible secret, it could instead be a confession to some heinous number of sins, the kind that get an Archangel sicced on you just for knowing it exists.

Whatever he would say, could be the end of them. 

As he reached the top, he faced them, staring each of them in the eyes as he seemed to decide what dark deed to divulge.

‘My beetle collection, or my addiction to the smell of fresh wax? My prized racing Pennyfarthing, or my knowledge of book-making? Oh, I have too many secrets for my own good!’ Contrary to their beliefs, the Hunter was more vulnerable when it came to his personal hobbies and guilty pleasures rather than his time as a Hunter. A part of him that had survived Yharnam surprisingly intact, all things considered.

‘Ah, that one shall do. Not too revealing, while also not too common.’

The Hunter cleared his throat.

The room froze, tension building and building until-

“I…I enjoy birdwatching.” 

Silence, shock, then confusion. That was it? That’s what it was? Each of them began to breathe again, forgetting one crucial detail about this exercise. Each of them stiffened again as they heard a sound similar to creaking wood, and a whistling of displaced air. They all snapped their heads up, to see the Hunter coming down on them at a speed they wouldn’t be able to react to.

An interesting thing about the Hunter is his weight. He has a lot of it. Muscle, his gear, and his status as something other than human made him weigh several hundred pounds, or roughly half a car. The same weight that was coming down at a non-negligible speed, onto the unprepared members of the Hazbin Hotel. 

They could do nothing but prepare for the end. For Husk, he quickly made his last rites in his head, before wishing he had cracked into his secret stash beforehand. He recalled his damned bet with Alastor, and wondered if he preferred it end like this.

Niffty had, for a brief instant, regained enough sanity to realize that she was going to die. In all of her time here, she had never feared death, but it was here nonetheless. She made peace with this, then closed her eye to not see the end.

Angel almost swore off drugs in an attempt to get raptured, just to avoid dying in this way. This would be it for him. He wouldn’t get to have sex again. No more drugs. He had enough time to shed a single tear, before the end came.

Pentious had never felt such fear before. It was like he was staring at his own ship, full of his Egg Bois, crashing down upon him in a final blaze of glory. He was dead, and it would be the monster’s fault. In his final moments, he cursed the Hunter’s very existence.

Charlie and Vaggie had stepped to the side beforehand, each knowing just how heavy he really was. The others could handle it, right?

They could not.

*THOOM*

The entire building shook from the force, and a few demons outside wondered what the fuck had happened, before going on with their day.

The Sinners were crushed underneath the Hunter. He was simply too heavy for them to carry, much less catch at the speed he was going at. Each one was almost flattened from the impact, but Pentious had been the farthest outside, and suffered the least amount of damage. That meant that only the lower half of his body was crushed, instead of fully. He was better off than the others, however.

The Hunter lied there for a moment or two, feeling the others weakly moving beneath him, as he felt the embarrassment of spilling his guts paint his cheeks. 

‘Oh the shame! I shan’t tell another soul as long as I live!’

As he wallowed in his embarrassment, the Sinners regenerated enough to try and push the Hunter off of them, with varying results. Pentious successfully slithered out from under him, then went to a corner to ponder his mortality again. Angel Dust managed to get his upper half free and was now scrolling through his (somehow not cracked) phone. Husk had given up after the first few attempts and was just waiting for his lungs to unflatten so he could yell at the Hunter to get his fat ass off! Niffty, poor thing, was at the very epicenter, and was still crushed underneath him. She was, however, enjoying the pain she was feeling, her previous lucidity dust on the wind.

“Well uh, I think that was successful?” Charlie wasn’t sure how to consider this, since yes, the Hunter had been caught, but not by choice. She’ll just say it was good and move on. “Well then, onto the next exercise!” A chorus of groans answered her response.

Ten minutes later, they all got the Hunter off from them and were on their feet. During this time, Vaggie and Charlie had walked off to the side while the others were busy regaining feeling in their limbs. Charlie was doubtful now, because nothing had changed between the guests. "I don't know if this is working the way we hoped. Maybe we should—"

Her girlfriend stopped her from continuing as she had a different thought. "Honey, you have to trust me here. I got this, okay? I'll figure something out."

Then, a particular person wrapped his arms around their shoulders as he had something to say. "If you're in the market for some ideas, I've got just the thing for some 'trust buildin'," Angel spoke while adding air quotes at the end before looking at Vaggie.

The one eye-girl sighed as she had a bad feeling about this. "What do you have in mind?"

-Scene Change-

"Angel! What the actual FUCK?!" That comment couldn’t convey the proper disgust Vaggie felt as she, her lover, and Angel stood in the main entrance in an ‘interesting' room. A dungeon, where people were dressed up as torturers and were doing some things deemed uncomfortable for the sane. 

"No activity requires more trust than BDSM, baby." The porn star informed her, as she made a disapproving expression before he made kinky moves with a pink fluffy handcuff with his other pair of arms, making Vaggie curl her lips in disgust. "No bond stronger than those formed through bondage!" Angel gestured a hand towards himself. "That's their motto!" He pointed at a poster, which actually did read that.

Charlie showed some excitement at her guest's suggestion. "Angel, love the enthusiasm. But…" She looked around to see a demon pulling on the leash on another demon, making her very uncomfortable, as displayed on her face. "Umm…uh…hmmm…"

Vaggie voiced her concern before she began to scold Angel for such an indecent recommendation. "What makes you think anyone would be into this?" They turned to where Husk was, where he received a message from a girl dressed in a Dominatrix outfit who purred in relaxation. 

"You know, I, I don't hate this. "Husk admitted before letting out a chuckle.

Moments later, Niffty walked in donned in a black Dominatrix outfit, with red heels while carrying a cane with a heart as its handle. "I'm ready to punish some bad boys!" She lets out a giggle.

And this caused the bartender to regret what he said. "...Never mind, I-I'm out!" As he runs out, the maid lets out a sadistic grin.

Hunter, who stood near the door, buried his eyes underneath his gloved hand to prevent himself from seeing everything that was in the room full of depravity. The Pornstar looked at him and couldn't help but notice his reaction. “You okay, Hunter?”

“I’m…I am not comfortable being here.” He admitted.

Angel just let out a laugh. “C’mon, Hunsty. Just because you’re full of trauma doesn’t mean you get to enjoy yourself.” He was speaking from experiences with his Boss.

The Hunter uncovered one of his eyes and looked back at him. He wasn’t particularly fond of that nickname he was given. He was about to open his mouth when Vaggie came into view while pushing Charlie. "I can't fucking believe I let you drag us here, Angel. This is disgusting." Once she got close, she crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's no big deal, Vaggie," Charlie assured as she looked at her girlfriend's face. "You know, maybe I can just help, uh—"

"No. I told you you could trust me, and I won't let you down." Vaggie told the Princess of Hell as she walked away from her. "I just need to teach them how I was taught..." The Hunter caught wind of the glint in her eye, and suspected what kind of “teaching” she would enact. It was a good thing none saw the Messengers handing him a weapon that wasn’t made from Angelic Steel, which was slung onto his back. If he was correct, she would take them to a place where brawling occurs, to familiarize themselves with their fellow guest’s fighting capabilities. He hoped she wouldn’t drop them into a warzone, that would probably be bad for him.

-Scene Change-

Smoke.

Powder.

Ash.

Metal.

Blood.

The scents were familiar, as was the scene. A burning, bloody battlefield. Screams, fire, and gunfire so loud it was impossible to hear spoken words. So Vaggie shouted instead. “All right maggots! This is how I learned trust!” While Vaggie was yelling at the trembling Sinners, the Hunter was planning the next course of action as he looked over the perpetual twilight of Yharnam. He and a few others were on a roof, overlooking their hunting grounds. A large number of particularly vicious Beasts had taken to the streets of Yharnam, and he and a few others were tasked with slaughtering them. An Executioner, a Crow, and a Powder Keg were his compatriots for this Hunt. All greenhorns. A Church Hunter was briefing them on the Beasts present, but it was merely background noise to him. He had experience with these sorts of tasks, and was the most senior member of this Hunt. This would be the mission that these three would cut their teeth on, or die trying. Many died trying, but few under him. He heard a distant howl, and knew it was time. The Hunt was on.

Vaggie had chucked the Sinners in, and was going for the Hunter, when he suddenly burst forth, planting his foot on the edge of the roof to gain more distance, and flung himself to the next roof. Then the next, then the next. Until he jumped from the roof, directly onto a Huntsman of the mob, not noticing his assailant until his boots were crushing him into the pavement. A swipe to his right and a precise shot to his left cut down two more of the mob that stalked Yharnam. Even now, more were drawing closer, carrying more rifles than spears or torches. He could work with this however, seeing as he wasn’t alone.

Angel, Husk and Pentious were ducking behind what meager cover they could find, when they heard one of the Sinners shooting at them suddenly cry out before being crushed under a lot of weight. Then a gurgle as another’s front was cut open, then a scream as another was shot. The bullets weren’t flying their way for now, so they poked their heads from behind cover, to see the Hunter cutting down another infected Yharnamite, this one afflicted with bulging muscles and many horns. A slash across the leg, a bullet in the wound, and a swipe aimed at the neck cut it down for good. Stepping back to assess the current fight, the greenhorns were keeping their distance from the rifles and pistols of the mob. Smart, if all they were doing was taking down this mob, which they weren’t. They were here to slay Beasts, not butcher the townsfolk. “Come along! The Hunt is far from over!”, the Hunter shouted, as he readied his pistol for another shot.

“That fucker’s crazy! No way we can survive that meat grinder!” Husk, unfortunately, had to agree with Angel. While he had some power back in his day, it was always at a poker table, and with a marked deck of cards. Not in a battlefield with these two jokers.

“At leassssst he’s clearing the way!” Pentious was correct, in that the Hunter was indeed clearing out another clump of Beasts. It seems they had finally found the main group of the scourge. With how much they screamed as they were being slaughtered, it was hard to disprove that these were once human. Not human enough, however, to warrant mercy. Behind the pleas for help and screams of agony, there were teeth and claws and ruined flesh and twisted skin and minds and souls. This was mercy.

Following the Hunter’s trail of destruction was doing them better than hiding, so while Husk and Angel had each picked up a rifle and were carefully popping heads from a distance, Pentious was watching the Hunter. Something was wrong. He was reacting to things that weren’t there, he was ignoring things that were real. He only reacted to the first bullet the Sinners fired, either dodging it entirely or blocking it with the blade of the weapon. Every other bullet he seemed content to let sail past him, or sink into him with no reaction. It’s like he expected each Sinner to only fire once, and ignored the rest of the bullets that followed.

As the gears were turning in Pentious’ head, the Hunter was glad that the greenhorns had finally stepped in properly. It seemed it took a little blood to flow before they had the confidence to join in themselves, and were each ripping a bounty of slaughter. The Executioner and the Crow were each tearing into their enemies, using their own rifles against them. While not a doctrine of Hunter combat, it was effective nonetheless, turning the tides of what could have been a hopeless battle. The Powder Keg, however, was just…staring at him. Watching. Waiting. ‘Learning. He’s learning what to do by watching me. Very well, I shall make it easier for him to follow.’ He must have been stung by a few unseen rifles at some point, because he could feel the holes all across his body. Slamming a Blood Vial into his leg, he felt the holes close up, before turning to the next Beast in his path. A smaller one, with large teeth and bulging eyes. Blood ran down its face as it uttered noises in no tongue of man, as a mockery of human sorrow. “P̸̭͍͎̓l̷̨̡̘̫̀̈̔͒̕͜͠ě̷͚͖̓̈̌͐͋a̸̯͕͕͚̎ṣ̶̣̞͍͙͛̒̓̋͛̇ȩ̶̢͍̏ ̸̡̗̩̾̑͑̊͊d̶͓̝̆̈́̄͠͝ó̴̙̹̀͜n̷͙̱͍̭͋́̏̎'̶̨̥͕̯͔̓t̵̡̖͒̓̕͜͝ ̴̦͚̜̾̃f̵̮̈͂u̴̡̟̍̈̏̇̎͜͠ͅc̸͚͘k̴̮̠͙͈̜̱̆̑̇į̷͕̓̂̀͋̋̕n̷̢̄̽͛g̶̛͎̳̣̓̇̐̇̌ ̵̩̈k̷̯̥͕̯̱͎̀̓̇͝î̸͕͓̠̱̣̒̿̑̓̏ḷ̵̱̊l̷̩̝̔̋̓͛̈͗ ̸̡̡̩̮̌̈́m̷̥͕̫͎̖͇̀̔̾́̐̍e̴̯̜̹͙͌͒̋͋̍̿!̷̻̘̜͔̓̋” It would be mercy indeed to end its tortured breath, a mimicry of sobbing. As he ended its fetid breath with a single sideways chop, he turned to the remaining Beasts that thought they had cornered him. The work was never done.

A while later

From one of the building’s rooftops, a shark Sinner finally got a good angle on whatever monster had been tearing through them. He lined the sights up right to the head, only to realize something was wrong after a hole appeared in his. As he slumped forward off of the building, hitting the ground with a thud, a panting Spider crawled up from behind where he had been. 

“*huff* *huff* Fucking…damnit! Why *huff* is he still *huff* going!?”

They (being the three fuckers tossed into the jaws of Hell) had been tailing him for the past half hour, and he hadn’t slowed his pace once. He’d kept killing at the same speed, uncaring of the many wounds he had taken then seemingly shrugged off, chopping apart Sinner after Sinner. Somehow, none were dead, just in a lot of bloody bits, or in few bits but traumatized by whatever the fuck he had done. They had nearly lost his path, but they just followed the screams here. A courtyard of what used to be a fancy building, now smoking debris all around them. 

There was blood. A lot of it. It painted every surface in sight. Floors, the chunks of concrete that were everywhere, the countless moaning bodies it had spurted from, and the Hunter himself. He was soaked in the shit, completely red when he used to wear black and brown. He wasn’t responding to anything either. After tearing apart the last guy, a really big Bear Sinner, he had just stopped reacting to the world around him. His eyes were unfocused, staring straight ahead at some unseen target in the distance. Angel had even given his best strip show right in front of him, and he didn’t even twitch. 

So now he was waiting for the insensate fucker to boot up again before they could leave this dump. Husk and Pentious were a bit further back, one complaining of his age, the other about having to slither up some of the steeper debris. They’d catch up eventually so…he plopped on his ass and waited. Five seconds later, he was bored. Then five more seconds passed, and he decided he was too bored, and left to go take a shower.

Husk had already bailed on him, so Pentious was alone when he approached the Hunter. He had recognized the signs presented by the Hunter, having felt them himself during life, and for a while after death. Death by cannonball to the face was hard to forget after all, so it haunted him for a long time. Whatever the Hunter was facing, it was unfortunately familiar. 

“Hunter! Are you well? The others are returning soon, will you join us?” This was a small probe, to see if he recognized him. 

By the way the Hunter slowly turned his head to look at him, he guessed that he was halfway here, halfway there. The Powder Keg had finally arrived, meaning that all members of the Hunt were alive and accounted for. No new scars, no new wounds. Success by every margin. Yet, something was off. The Snake Powder Keg had called to him, asking him something, but it was muffled. As he turned to ask him to repeat, something else was wrong. The Snake Powder Keg suddenly had many more eyes than he should have. They seemed to exist in his very shadow, spilling out into the blood soaked concrete cobblestones of the ruined plaza wide road. As he stumbled back, fearful of the comrade in arms Beast he faced alone, it placated, begged hissed in a fearful slithery tone. “The Nightmare is over Hunter, you don’t have to do thisss! fight it anymore. It’sss not real! Jussst give in. You led them to their deathsss, don’t you remember?”

Oh how he did. He remembered how the Hunt had really gone that day. The Executioner, eager as all other members of their Covenant, forged ahead, plowing a bloody path through the horde with his wheel. The same horde that turned inwards, spearing him on a dozen different blades. The Crow, vengeful as the others of her kind, sought to reap her pounds of flesh from the mob that had slain her friend. She succeeded, but was unprepared for the Beast that had fallen from above, biting her upper torso off in one swift chomp. The Powder Keg had sacrificed himself, seeing death so close at hand. He had known that both of them would not survive, so he chose to save him. He had been the greenhorn then. His first ever task. And he had been the only survivor. From then on, there was not a single mission he had been on that had more than two Hunters survive. 

And it was always his fault. He could have been better. He could have saved them. Even now, he could see them, taunting him with the faces of those he failed to save. Eileen. Arianna. Gilbert. Alfred. He would never know peace, so long as his sins weighed heavier than his heart.

Hunter! Charlie wouldn’t want this!

Charlie

Charlie cared for him. Charlie forgave him. Charlie had promised that she would help him. She had hope in him. 

There isss no hope…

“I know there’sss a better tomorrow!”

You will never be forgiven…

 “But firssst, you have to forgive yourssself!”

It won’t undo what you have done…

“You can’t take back your sscarss, but you can heal from the pain!”

“Trussst me Hunter! I trussst in you!”

And then the Hunter awoke.

He was surrounded by the groaning, broken bodies of what must have been dozens of Sinners. They were all still alive, wishing they weren’t. He was soaked in blood, and there were a lot of bullets under his skin. At some point in his delirious state, he had fallen backwards, away from the Snake. The same Snake that was standing before him, holding himself low enough that he could touch the Hunter, which he was. His left hand was on his shoulder, a grounding weight. His right was over his heart, a comforting pressure. His racing heart slowed, then steadied into a rhythmic bump-bump, drawing him back to the real world entirely.

Seeing he had returned from the dark place, Pentious raised himself to his full height. “Well, I ssuppossse that should do it. I know the painsss that come with shellshock, and I know the kind of thingsss needed to be cursssed with it. While I sssee your painsss true now, I’m not quite ready to look you in the eye jussst yet. Ssso until then,” The Snake held out his hand. “Truccce?” 

The Hunter eyed the hand, then the body it was attached to. He was staring into uncountable eyes on a long body, each eye darting around wildly, filled with paranoia. However, unlike the last time he had seen the eyes, they seemed to rest a few moments on him, before flitting about again. He truly had earned some trust then, even if it was not how he intended to receive it. Small steps peak the mountain it seems.

And so, the Hunter took the offered hand, almost dragging the Snake down due to his insane weight, but neither one letting go of their potential new friend.

NIGHTMARE SLAIN

Back to where Charlie, Vaggie, and Niffty stood, the Princess smiled at the sight she saw from below. Despite the absolute carnage the Hunter had displayed, he had somehow partially mended the bond between him and Pentious. While quite…unorthodox, Charlie had to admit that it had worked, and while it wasn’t the most stable relationship, it was a start.

She wasn’t alone in her observations. While Vaggie was proud that they had bonded (and was embarrassed that this didn’t work the way she thought it would), she was also concerned with the fact that two of their guests were suffering from PTSD. Redemption’s a lot fucking harder when you blamed yourself for your comrade’s deaths, and who the fuck knows what the Hunter had gone through. A new piece of the puzzle that was their new guests.

Nifty’s observations were in just how much blood had been spilled, and the beautiful poses the Hunter had left them in. Truly, he was an artist! She giggled, then wiped away the bit of drool that was running down her face. She’d have to work hard to one-up this, but mama didn’t raise no quitter!

And from higher above, all present were being watched themselves. Perched on the ruins of a taller building, a hawk peered down. A dark body, with a pure white breast spackled with red, it gazed below with uncannily human eyes. Watching, dissecting, piercing. Its eyes sparkled with recognition, upon seeing both the amount of blood, as well as the one who spilled it. It had been a long time indeed. But it had seen enough. Snapping its wings out, it fell from its perch, then soared on ghostly silent wings. As it passed over the Hunter, it looked down on him, as if to confirm his identity. Then, it flew away, disappearing into mist.

-Scene Change-

Heaven, Adam’s office

Adam was not having fun. First his ribs were cold, then his bitch ex-wife had called him again to yell at him, now he has to fudge the books to hide the disappearances of almost a thousand angels! Could this day get any worse!?

*knock knock*

Looks like it could. “Fuck you want?! I’m busy!” 

As the door opened, and he readied his throwing arm, he noticed it wasn’t some flunky cherub, but instead his prize fighter. “Lute! I wondered where you were! Come help me with this!” He tossed the book he was about to throw behind him, beckoning her forth to take the load off of him.

“We’ve got trouble Adam. There’s been reports of an Eldritch energy spike in Pride, and someone killed one of our spies.” Lute was, unfortunately for him, all business, and had got straight into it instead of helping hi- Wait a second.

“ELDRITCH?! Tell me you’re just fucking around, there shouldn’t be anything like that above Heresy!” Adam’s fears were not about the level of danger it could be to Hell, or the threat it could be to Heaven. Whenever anything Eldritch was involved, so too was a very thorough investigation. 

An investigation that he himself might be forced to be a part of, and damned be his complaints. If it was just some Cthulhu cultist that had started their shit again, they’d just send one of the Exorcists and be on their way. Maybe a couple pages, but still too much work. If it was anything else? The last time this had happened, some long-dead false deity had escaped Blasphemy without anyone noticing, and had nearly made it to Greed before the Archangels caught wind of it. It took fifteen fucking years to hunt the thing down, and the paperwork alone took him seven months and an entire vineyard’s worth of alcohol. 

He had sworn himself that if this ever happened again, he’d disappear whatever madman started frothing at the mouth before it reached the ears of heaven. From then on, he had always hoped against hope that the Exorcists would do their job, and erase these problems before they popped up. But from Lute’s grim expression, that was not to be. 

Grinding the palms of his hands into his eyes, he could only dread how much work he’d have to do. “FUUUUUUCK!!” 

His roar shook the surrounding area, and made several of his workers fearful of his wrath. His secretary, however, planned to order more painkillers, as she knew whatever migraine they would all suffer would be horrendous.

Adam wasn’t finished however, realizing the last part of Lute’s statement. “One of our spies died? How?! Who?! They’re indistinguishable from those worthless fucks down below!” Adam was referring to the small task force Lute had come up with, whose job was to sniff out sources of potential resistance, and either report back to her, or snuff it out. They were some of the most elite angels , consisting of some of the most skilled spies that had somehow made it to Heaven. For one to die, something had to have gone very wrong.

“We don’t know who, we only know how and where. He hadn’t reported back in a while, so we used the tracker installed in his spine to find him, only to discover that he’d been found out and torn apart. Someone had dissected him, and used the parts to spell out ‘spy’ strung from a wire. And he wasn’t the first, just the most recent. Of all of our spies in Hell, every three out of four gets caught and killed the same way. Someone is hunting them down. The most evidence we have is this.” She then held out some kind of badge consisting of a crested shield. “The most we can tell, it’s some kind of calling card. The crest itself doesn’t exist, either lost to history or made up.” 

She then handed Adam the badge. As he inspected it, he didn’t really care what it was, only that this stopped happening. “Doesn’t matter! We’ve now got to get two problems taken care of before anyone else gets wise, and you’re the best for the job. Take whoever you need, and kill this abomination before Sera finds out!” Dismissing Lute and tossing the badge back to her, he turned to the window, pondering (or trying to at least trying to). The paperwork was going to suck if she didn’t get this done.

As she left, Lute could almost feel her anger curling off of her. She had known them. Every one of her own, personal fighters that she has knowingly sent down into that fetid pit. James, Fritz, Aldrich. Each had been some of the best spies in their life, and each of them had told their stories to her. Their tricks, secrets, skills. Each one was completely unique, and yet they died all the same. The badge she had found, the one that marked James’ death, was screeching as she crushed it in her grip. She had promised them. They would have come home heroes. Instead, they were disposed of like trash. 

That, coupled with the 600 of her sisters going missing from the previous three Exterminations, were making each and every one of their lives weigh on her soul. All because she disowned and mutilated that Sinful Filth who spared a child. It seemed like Karma has really hit back at her really hard.

In rage, she threw the badge into the wall, so hard it stuck. As she stomped off, tears of rage pricking her eyes, the badge glinted in the light, highlighting the gold and red lions on the dented crest. Unknown to her, the badge was taken by the Messengers who were able to quickly grab it before she sensed them.

What a chapter. Seems like the Hunter is starting to make amends with Sir Pentious. And Heaven seems to make a move on the strange activities. I wonder who could have killed the spies? It can’t be the Hunter, correct?

Maybe it has to do with that unique-looking Hawk. Who is it? I guess you are about to find out on your own terms.

Now then, onto the authors’ notes…

Crimson Soldat: October is right around the corner, meaning that there may be more chapters coming out soon. And also the Helluva Boss episode “Ghostfuckers” is coming out in that month. Man, we are getting fed. But, for now, we need to focus on here. We got big plans for this story. Perhaps it already has been teased in my most popular (yet rough) Fanfiction Story.

HalfWitHillbilly: We’re both going to schools in different timezones, so our schedules aren’t as free as they used to be. We’ll do our best regardless, but now we have to take a bit more time.

CS: In case you haven’t noticed by now, I use most parts from my other Hazbin Hotel story, Caboose’s Guide to make Friends in Hell, to help write this chapter. Yes, it’s controversial, but it did help us get through.

HH: A few bits and pieces, then heavily edited and modified so that it’s not a word-for-word copy. I do my best.

Comment down below what you want to see in future chapters! Right now, we have to go through the first Extermination first before anything else. For now, we will be looking at mostly original content.

With that said, we'll see you in the next update!

Chapter 17: Dreamlike Reflection

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

XVII

Dreamlike Reflection

THE HUNTER'S DREAM…

Charlie had seen a lot during her (comparatively) short lifespan. Her experiences let her acclimate to the wild and bizarre denizens of Hell, and the strange things they did and said. She could expect many things to happen at any point of the day. However, for all of her adaptability, she still didn't expect to end the rather…productive…day back in the Hunter's Dream after her head hit the pillow, completely exhausted. Even though she was caught flat-footed, she had a feeling the Hunter would want to speak to her without Vaggie prying in on their conversation, and potentially damaging what little trust he had built up. Before she knew it, she was seated on a simple yet elegant chair the Doll had seemingly set up before her arrival, and stared at the Hunter, who sat opposite the tea table that had appeared from thin air. Silence filled the air as the two stared at one another, neither sure what exactly to say.

What was there that could be said? 'I'm sorry I filled your head with the deranged ramblings of a half-formed being, causing you to end up here?' 'I'm sorry my girlfriend triggered your extremely volatile trauma, causing you to mangle half a hundred Sinners?' Admitting either of these could result in yet another tear-filled breakdown, this time from either party. And mortals said that negotiating was difficult.

This went on for an uncomfortably tense while, until the Hunter's closest friend walked towards their table, laden with a tray, and placed porcelain cups before them. She then took the kettle and poured a fine scented tea into the cups, then took a step back. "Your tea is ready."

The Hunter wasted no time by grabbing his cup of tea and raising it to his lips, slightly revealing a portion of his face as he pulled down his mouth mask to his bottom lip, before blowing into his cup. Charlie could see a new part of his face, though his tricorne hat and mouth cloth covered the rest. Even with the slight view she had, she could see just how young his face was. Mid-twenties maybe? While she was studying his mouth, the Hunter was in his own world again. 'Ah, she's outdone herself again. Always natural at making the finest tea. No wonder I enjoy it so much.' As he was savoring the taste, while also relishing the Doll's skills at brewing, he realized that Miss Morningstar was looking at him, while not drinking her tea?

He turned and saw that she hadn't even touched it yet, too busy staring into his face. "Miss Morningstar? Your tea is growing cold."

"A-ah…" She realized, picking the slightly cooled tea and drank it. She let out a small, embarrassed chuckle. "Sorry, Hunter. I was distracted by your…unorthodox methods earlier. Not that that's a bad thing really!" She frantically explained, not wanting to explicitly say 'You scared me'.

"Is that so..." He said, expecting this response from her. Now they could truly begin. "Then I must apologize for my actions. I simply…delved too deep in your lover's methods. I didn't expect her to choose a battlefield." Even knowing Vaggie was a Fallen Angel (An Exorcist in fact, that patch covering her ripped-out eye was a dead giveaway. Coupled with that shattered fragments of a halo, ripped wings and that spear), he decided to keep that out of the conversation. Not his story to tell, after all. "How have you found this Dream so far, Miss Morningstar?"

"It's relaxing," She admitted, looking around the workshop before turning back to him. "This place reminds me somewhat of the Hotel but…calmer. There's no sounds of distant gunfire, there's no chaos happening inside or out, and only you and the Doll are present." Taking a deep breath through her nose, she continued. "And the smell! Fresh air isn't really easy to come by in Hell! But here, it all smells nice and clean!"

"Most gracious of you, Miss Charlie," The Doll spoke up, reminding the pair that she was still present. "The Good Hunter has given me much praise for my skills." It was true, in the sense that the Doll refused to allow any form of filth to exist within the Dream. If there was a speck of dust, a tiny spot of blood, or even an errant thread from a coat, it would be gone in the blink of an eye. Many times she had nearly scrubbed him like a particularly dirty cat after a Hunt, and his only savior was his personal hygiene routine. Yharnam be damned, he would never let himself stoop as low as soaking himself in blood willingly. Covered, yes, but soaked implied he let it seep underneath his attire. He had standards to uphold after all.

"You're welcome miss...uh…Doll, and I'm glad that the Hunter isn't alone all the time."

The topic had shifted again. But this time, the Hunter was ready. He had taken the time while Charlie was conversing with the Doll to get his thoughts in order.

"Miss Morningstar, I believe now would be a good time for a proper explanation. From myself, instead of my writing." Charlie snapped her head in his direction. He had finally managed to steel himself for this, to reflect upon all of his mistakes, misfortunes, and memories. He could suppress the bulk of them, but even now names, places, and events were floating to the surface. Patches, Mensis, The B̵̹̖̻̠̂̀̚̕l̶̺̈̀͑ó̷͓͈̞̖o̶̱̟͔̒̂̔͘d̶̨̼̦͐͜ ̷͍̙͐̈́M̵͓̰̏͘͝o̴̯̱̥͊o̵̹͆̈́̏n̶͖̈́̑͐̎.

Taking a deep breath, and willing himself to stop fidgeting, he opened his mou-

"What a great fucking day it has been! Moxxie, great shooting! Pro as usual! Millie, great fucking mess you made," And then he snapped it shut. He and Charlie turned to see three familiar imps, who wore their attire the Hunter had gifted them, entering the workshop. Immediately, he felt dread pool in his heart as they split apart. These Imps were a disaster waiting to happen, and here he was with Charlie in tow. Blitzø, either ignoring or simply not noticing either of them, swaggered up to the table and proceeded to drink the entire teapot before he chucked it to the ground, breaking it. He gave a long, loud belch, then began raiding the kitchen for alcohol.

Millie, having noticed the Hunter's presence, decided to ask him something. "Hey, Hunter! Mind if I snatch this from ya? My throat's parched from all the maniacal laughing I did earlier."

He shook his head, internally sighing. 'At least this one has manners.' "Not at all." He handed Millie his cup, and she drained it in a single mouthful, before setting the cup down and walking off to sharpen her axe.

Unsurprisingly, Moxxie was the only one of the three to properly greet the Doll. "Hello, Miss Doll! Apology for our rude intrusion."

The Doll chuckled at his words. "It's alright, Mr. Moxxie. You are welcome here any time, after all."

The other Male imp nodded, then looked to the table to see the Hunter staring at him, alongside…oh SHIT! Moxxie just realized who was sitting on the opposite side. "Her Majesty is here!?"

Upon hearing that, Millie stopped sharpening her axe and stared where her husband was looking. Blitzø just gave a mutter of "uh huh" while robbing the Hunter of his scotch and brandy. He then realized what was wrong, stopped raiding the kitchen, turned to see who sat with the Hunter, and froze when he realized oh shit that's LUCIFER'S SPAWN. The three imps stared at the princess before they overcame their shock. "THE FUCK?!"

Blitzø recovered first and could see the irony at play. "What do you know? Hunter here has a connection to royalty!" He then mockingly doffed his non-existent hat and swept it over his feet as he bowed low. "My fairest lady, would you be oh so posh as to excuse thine own poor manners?" The Hunter took physical damage as the worst Victorian accent he had ever heard in his life punched him in the nose. And the grammar was unacceptable! He'd have to hammer it into the Imp's skull (possibly literally) when "posh" and "thine" were acceptable to use!

As the Hunter was glaring spears into Blitzø, Millie remembered the etiquette class she had half-paid-attention-to. "Greetings Miss Majesty! Or uh… Hello Your Morningstar! No wait, that one doesn't make any sense either." As she scratched her scalp trying to remember what to say, Moxxie actually knew what to say and how to say it.

"Hey Hunter! Hey Miss Morningstar!" Simple and polite. Best way to deal with Hellborn nobility, since you never knew just how volatile some of them could be. While Charlie couldn't be called volatile in any means, it also never hurt to be polite.

"Are these some friends of yours? You've managed to progress so well!" Charlie was ecstatic. It was great news that the Hunter had been drawn out of his shell by something other than wanton violence and leather. This was a step in the right direction, despite their crassness. "I was just chatting with the Hunter here about…things that happened yesterday." Charlie almost let slip he nearly butchered an entire gang in a manic episode, hopefully they wouldn't pick up on that.

"Oh? What kind of things~" The apparent leader asked in a singsong voice, his toothy grin twisting into a sinister smile. 'Just a tiny bit of dirt and his edgy cool guy persona is toast! This is revenge for all the shit you put us through!'

"The kind of things that don't involve you." The Hunter ground out through gritted teeth. This was supposed to be a heartfelt, incredibly vulnerable moment for him, and here were his old coworkers about to make a mess! If Charlie found out about their relationship, she'd give him one of her 'I'm not mad just kinda disappointed' looks that would tear his heart to shreds. He had to shut him up before he said anything incriminating! He hated using this trick, but he had no choice. "Moxxie."

The aforementioned party, having not expected the Hunter's voice in his head, almost jumped out of his skin. 'What the fuck!? You can read my mind?!'

"No. Transmit messages. Telegraph style. Charlie does not know your profession. Do not let that change. Silence the oaf. Do NOT fail."

"Hey Hun, remember those muffins the Doll helped us bake earlier?" Moxxie, always quick on the draw, reacted the moment the whispers stopped talking. As she nodded, Moxxie breathed a sigh of relief. Blitzø's attention was drawn away from talking too much, to the promise of food, saving them once again. However, more complications arose.

"Where the FUCK are they?!" Millie had come back empty-handed, instead clenched into tight fists as she stomped out of the kitchen. "Who touched them! You?!" Her accusing finger swung to the Hunter, who, despite his great strength, felt fear in that moment as he hastily shook his head while raising his hands.

"You!?" Her finger was then thrust at Charlie, who understood the woman's plight, and sadly shook her head, worried for whichever poor fool ate the pastries that weren't theirs. Daddy learned this the hard way whenever he ate one of Mother's favorite apple fritters without asking.

"You?!" Blitzø was on the receiving end this time, but was prepared.

"I don't know what you're talking about! I didn't eat any blueberry muffins!" As he spun his tale, he forgot to account for the fact that he was still chewing on it. Also, most of the dozen he had eaten now stained his front, dying his collar blue. He remembered this after he had swallowed the last bite, and Millie had started snorting steam.

"So it was you!" Millie had worked very hard on those pastries. She'd meant for them to be eaten here so Moxxie and her could have a meal that wasn't fouled by the smells of sulfur, blood and piss that pervaded the entirety of Pride.

"Uh-oh…" Blitzø realized his slip-up too late. With half a second to think, he used his tactical genius earned from his training to devise a solution. Within the next half of the second, he had his plan. He bolted as fast and as far as he could. Naturally, this only made the female imp madder.

"Hey! Get back here, Blitz!" She shouted at her boss, grabbing her axe as she stormed after her boss.

Moxie could only sigh at what was about to happen. The thought of his wife chasing his boss with her axe reminded him of a comedy film with that premise. Then he remembered what the Hunter had asked- no, demanded from him. Sucking through his teeth, he slowly turned to gauge the reaction of his boss' boss. When he received a stiff nod, he released the breath he had held. Coast was clear today.

"Well then… they're a lively bunch aren't they?" While it was nice to see the Hunter making friends, Charlie would have been shocked if he had managed to find a single peaceful soul in Hell. It seemed that trouble gravitated towards him, and the other way around too.

"Yes…quite. I hope their actions don't cause any distress, for while they have their faults, they have grown on me it seems. I enjoy their presence… for the most part at least. Speaking of, how fare the others? I left in a rush."

While the Hunter was talking about what he had done during his week, and Moxxie was silently watching, in truth both were sending messages back and forth across the shitty mental connection the Hunter had made between the two as fast as they could. Both were at Defcon one levels of stress, Hunter guiding Moxxie on what to say for their cover stories, and Moxxie guiding the Hunter on the fine arts of small talk.

It was like he had never spent more than a minute talking to someone! Moxxie was walking a razor wire of keeping him engaged while also not having him say too much at the same time!

In the very least, their cover stories were simple: They were bodyguards, each member having a specialty. Blitzø was the distraction and emotional support, to keep the VIP's enemies guessing while also keeping said VIP from panicking and doing something stupid. Millie was the muscle, to bounce anyone trying to get close and take a few teeth for the trouble. He was recon and threat removal, to discern any potential threat, and removing whoever or whatever it is before it becomes a threat. Cover story complete and proven, because they had a gig upcoming with a Noble soon (Here he was talking out of his ass, no way would anyone hire Imps as bodyguards. Hellhounds exist after all!).

Now, he just had to keep the Hunter talkin- aaaand they're back.

"GIVE THEM BACK!" Blitzo was caught. Then wrung like a wet rag. Moxxie knew this because his boss' limp form was flung at the stairs of the porch. He seemed…hollow. Had Millie actually squeezed him?

"Honey, I got them back!" Oh of fucking course she did. As Moxxie tried not to hurl at the sight of his wife holding blueberry and alcohol goop, Charlie had a slight curiosity.

"You said you met them during the week? Are these the "temporary co-workers" you told me about?"

"Quite so. Our arrangement was simple: I aid their skills, they leave me be." The Hunter tried to be vague about it, but without Moxxie in his head telling what to and what not to say, he was flying by the seat of his pants.

"Leave you alone? Why? Were they bothering you?" Charlie, too caring for her own good, started poking holes in his story. He had to tread carefully. Any wrong words and she'd be onto him.

"They were…asking for my attention. They saw me as better, and wanted to learn from the best, so it seems." Wait he was forgetting somet-

"You're a bodyguard? I didn't know that!" Charlie was happy, the Hunter had a job that wasn't strictly violence and bloodshed! True, it wasn't perfect, but now he's not actively fighting something! "I'm glad you're finding a life down here that you enjoy doing. Even if it isn't quite what I had in mind for you." While both a breath of relief that she didn't catch on, and a lie by omission that would weigh down his soul, he caught onto the last part of her statement with a well-timed deflection.

"What did you have in mind for me, Miss Morningstar?" Now he was curious, just what did she think he did for a day job?

"W-well." She was nervous. Not good. Was she catching on? Did she know? "With your accent and…skills, I kinda saw you working as either a bartender or bouncer. Every one of those I've known was either European or incredibly muscular. And you fit both bills! N-not that I'm saying that's all you're capable of, just that I can see you working as one and-"

While Charlie rambled in an attempt to save face, the Hunter was in thought. 'A bartender? Me? With a long apron and a beard? Father would cackle until he turned blue, then he'd buy a pint and laugh even more. Mother would be distraught, but she wouldn't mind the coin. Hmmm… I remember old Bill telling me the stories behind each of his tattoos, and I remember being enthralled by his tales. I wonder which of my own tales should I weave into ink and skin? Bah, none can beat Bill's wild fables. But, it is not an unpleasant dream.'

As the Hunter was being drawn deeper and deeper into his fantasies, the world was turning on without him. Blitzø had recovered…somehow and was now bothering Charlie again. "So tell me, what kind of dirty little secrets is our dear Hunter hiding? Something, anything! I gotta find something to ridicule him with, come on give me something!" Now he was begging her while crying loudly. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Before he could get his answer, he was grabbed on the collar by Moxxie, who was also dragging his wife. Simply put, he wants his Boss's Boss and Charlie to be left alone, so he decided swift retreat was in order. "Hey guys I think we overstayed our welcome we should probably go ok bye!" He blurted out as fast as possible, trying to prevent a disaster from unfolding.

"But-" His boss tried to utter.

"Don't you have that thing tonight with him?" His subordinate reminded him, desperate to keep him distracted. He also didn't drop any important names, because he didn't want Charlie to investigate their little group.

"Oh shit you're right! See you fuckers later, I'm getting me some ass!" With this, Blitzø bowled over his subordinates in excitement before exiting the shop. Reaching the lamp at the bottom of the stairs, the suddenly horny Imp slammed headfirst into it, causing it to burst into purple mist that shrouded the three members of I.M.P. When it cleared, they were gone.

Watching them depart, Charlie just let out a giggle before turning to face the Hunter. "They're a bunch of goofballs, aren't they?"

"Yes, Miss Morningstar." He responded, seeing the Doll and Messengers cleaning up the mess they made within the workshop. "They could be rowdy at times. But overall, they're good people." Now that it was only them, he thought it would be time to resume their previous conversation. "Now, about what we were about to discuss prior to their interruption."

The Princess of Hell sobered up from her amusement quickly. Back to business then. "Yes."

"I believe we have all night to have this discussion," The Hunter revealed, having his cup returned and the teapot was somehow repaired to its original form. "So let's not mince words, shall we? I owe you an explanation after all. But before I begin, a question I have pondered for a while."

He leaned forward, almost halfway over the table. "What does the name K̴̦̔o̴̻̚ŝ̵͖ mean to you?"

"My ex-boyfriend's great-aunt? I don't think I've ever talked to her, but what does she have to do with this?"

"...Huh?"

That was awkward between the Hunter, Charlie, and the three members of I.M.P. At least, they manage to keep shut of their Professions as Assassins. For now, at least. For now. If you are all wondering what the I.M.P's Outfits, Weapons and Tools the Hunter gift them, here it is.

Blitzø: Dual Repeating Pistol, Whirligig Saw, Yharnam Hunter Set, and Tiny Tonitrus

Millie: Millie's Guillotine, Fist of Gratia, Executioner Set with the Hunter's Tricorne, and Old Hunter's Bone

Moxxie: Gatling Gun, Canon, Evelyn, Noble Dress, and Empty Phantasm Shell

Loona: Beast Claw, Blunderbuss, Harrowed Set, and Beast Roar

Now that is out of the way, here are our notes.

Crimson Soldat: Now, just a heads up, both the Hunter and the Hazbin Hotel staff will not be present in the next two chapters. Reason being is the I.M.P's well paid-off training which will be displayed in two episodes of Helluva Boss.

HalfWitHillbilly: Remember how excited Blitzo was to see Stolas again? Yeah you're about to find out why. Also, Hunter killing off someone Charlie vaguely knew? I wonder how that's gonna turn out.

CS: Just wait. Folks. It is going to be one helluva ride. Heh, get it because it's Helluva Boss?

HH: I wanna die after that pun. As revenge, the next chapter will be a 10 thousand word lemon. You did this to yourself Crimson.

Comment down below what you want to see in future chapters! Right now, we have to go through the first Extermination first before anything else. For now, we will be looking at mostly original content.

With that said, we'll see you in the next update!

Chapter 18: Training Paid Off: Moon Festival

So, as an apology for the previous chapter, we're gonna make the next two chapters long. Also, since both of our schedules conflict so much, plus college being a thing, updates will be sporadic. Also, sorry in advance

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

XVIII

Training Paid Off: Moon Festival

"An axe that transforms into a heavy, sharp whip.

Once a simple axe, a mercenary's weapon of choice, this blade was modified when it came in contact with a truly Great foe." -Description of Millie's Guillotine

…

Eighty-Three Days until the Next Extermination

The van that carried the band of wackos known as I.M.P drove across the desert landscape, the burning sands and molten rivers of Wrath speeding past as they trundled towards their destination. While Blitzø was driving like an escaped maniac, Loona was on her phone tapping lightly on her newly replaced (and reinforced) screen (this is the third fucking one this week) while the couple were looking out of the window. Well, it was mostly Millie. Moxxie was staring at the back of his right hand, studying the Hunter's Mark and pondering everything that led up to and followed its existence.

There was no other way to put it, he and the others had been cursed. This…thing's existence would be the death of them all if the worst came to pass. This wasn't exactly something most, if any, Imps would bother going through, the comparable scraps in exchange for their very fucking existence not worth it unless you were insane or on death's door. Even then, death was preferable to this not-life in almost every case. Eternal servitude as a pen pusher, your soul harvested as lighter fluid, there was even an Overlord that made carpet from the skins of the Sinners he trapped. Worst part was, they were aware of this, but he had fucked with their heads to make them like being torn into leather everyday.

Most Deals were accompanied by a bit of gold, to show that you were a demon's plaything. But this? The brand on his hand pulsed, a burning red glow flaring up, then dying down, in cadence with his heartbeat. This was something angrier, more vicious. If the Hunter, for whatever reason, decided to cash in his favor, what would become of them? Would they act as mindless attack dogs, slaughtering whatever they were told to? Would they be aware of it? Would they even care? 'This must have been his plan all along! Four of the best killers in Hell, ready and standing by at all times, loyal, uncaring of their own lives or the lives of others, willing to do anything we are told. He says fetch, we'd fetch! He says kill, we'd kill! And if he told us to die…what else could we do but obey? Oh Hells, I should have just kept my head down, dad was right all along!'

His wife looked at him and noticed his panicked, close to hyperventilating expression. "Something on your mind, Moxxie? You're not nervous about meeting my folk are you? They'll warm up to you!" She was aware of the frosty reception her husband would likely receive from her parents, him not being as "manly" or "macho" as the rest of them. Oh but were they in for a surprise! 'Can't wait to see the look on daddy's face when he sees the hunk o' man my hubby's turned into!'

Moxxie blinked, then looked over to her, snapping out of the dark thoughts that had plagued his mind for the past half hour. He tugged his glove back on, not willing to show that he belonged to anyone that wasn't his wife. I.M.P wore gloves now, to hide the marks given to them. No need to have clients gossiping, after all.

"Yeah. Just thinkin' about this little 'gift' we got from the Hunter." That caused the others to wince while Loona absentmindedly rubbed the back of her hand. "It's hard to believe he…owns us now."

"Eh, not really 'owned', more 'stay the fuck away from me unless I need you'." Unlike Moxxie's fear-clouded and manic mind, Loona wasn't blind to what the Hunter gained from this deal. He wanted them to leave him alone, so he made them leave him alone. If they got better in the process, well he still got what he asked for. Not that she minded, he reeked of dried blood and old bricks. Did he ever fucking shower? "Least he isn't like those dicks who'd fuck us over to get their rocks off," Loona commented, remembering what the Hunter said before departing.

It was paradoxical, how the Hunter had so much power to throw around, yet he didn't. Then again, he didn't seem like the type to dick around in any weight class above his own, regardless of dignity. Something he had written down in the homework he gave them mentioned cheating at every possibility. Made sense, the jackass never played fair in any engagement, regardless of skill. Or class, or pride, or cost. As she was growling the time he threw a bottle of cheap (but incredibly strong) perfume to muddle her smell, Blitzø finished hacking up another fucking feather. The unfortunate mental imagery of her legal guardian chowing down on some Goetia ass got her thinking of something that Moxxie had rambled to her in a panic when he had dragged their sorry asses from that 'Workshop' the jackass had given them the key to (She got a good look, and yeah, it fucking was human skin).

As she watched him flick it out the window, where it immediately got sucked back into the van via Moxxie's open window into his hair, causing him to yelp in disgust, she decided to ask. "I still can't fucking believe he has connections to the Princess of Hell. You and the bird I get, but Charlie fucking Morningstar?" She was even taken back by how his close friend was a living fucking Doll of all things!

"Yeah, we had the same thought. Didn't know how her, of all people, would end up there. But something tells me she's got her own…interesting reasons to be there." Blitzø responded, a twisted smile splitting his face as his mind ran wild with many possible, filthy reasons that a Hellborn noble would fraternize with him. "And now, we have something to blackmail him with, making our scores even!" There was something at the back of his mind. He was forgetting something again, wasn't he? Before leaving the office, he could have sworn he put the "key" to the workshop with the others they had found or stolen. Question was, where did he exactly put it? Oh well, it'll come back to him once they get back from this hick-nic. For now, he just needs to kick back, relax, and- 'Oh shit, am I driving!?' "And we're finally here."

The Van blew past a sign that read "Rough n' Tumbleweed Ranch". Entering the ranch, they saw two elder imps, one male and the other female, waiting in front of them. The vehicle rolled to a stop and the female imp hopped out of her window to wave at them. "Mama! Daddy!"

Millie ran towards them, and her father swept her up, before spinning her around, while the both of them laughed. He placed her down, still a bit giggly. "Yeeeee-hawwww! How's my deadly little pumpkin spice doing?" He asked, Wrath accent front and center as he ruffled her hair affectionately.

"I'm good, Pa! Thanks for lettin' us stay here for the harvest jamboree." She replied, then picked up her dad to give him her own car-crusher hug.

*POP* *POP* *POP*

"OOOoohhh-WEEeee! That felt better than an iced tea at sundown, you've learned a few things while freelancin' ain't ya?" Back thoroughly popped, and feeling ten years younger, Joe stretched side to side after Millie set him down, Moxxie looking disturbed at the gunshot-loud cracks that had emanated from Joe's back.

"It's no trouble Millie." Her mother, Lin, assured her as she stood next to her husband. "We know you aren't making as much anymore, what with 'freelancin' not bein' the most profitable job around." She puts in air-quotation.

"Freelance pays pretty fine, Ma! Especially now, we've been makin' the big bucks!" Millie told them, her voice full of pride. "I dare say we've carved ourselves quite a fortune, what with all the fancy suits with grudges asking fer us by name!" A thought came to her, and she walked to where her husband was, who was carrying their luggages. "Anyway, y'all remember my darlin' husband Moxxie?" She hoped that just this once, they wouldn't-

"We do." Deadpan. Well shoot. Sorry Mox looks like you gotta pull out the big guns fer this one.

"Hey hey don'tchu be like that, he ain't the same noodle arms you knew a ways back!" As Moxxie mouthed 'noodle arms' to himself, he was unprepared for Millie to pick him up like a cat and set him in front of his in-laws, who were glaring down at him.

Moxxie can't help but feel nervous at their intense glare. "Greetings, Lin! Joe! How have you been, uh, with all the... flaming twisters and stuff around here?" He held out a hand to his in-laws.

"We lost our old farm hand to one of them terrors last week." His Father in-law responded, completely ignoring his greeting.

The Marksman imp felt nervous once again upon what he said, his arm appropriately flopping down like a noodle as any bravado leaked out of him. "Oh, crumbs. My bad! I am so sorry. I- I didn't mean to open that wound... sir."

Blitzø, overhearing his subordinate's comment, was offended that Moxxie was licking someone else's shoes instead of his. "Hey, watch it! I'm the "sir" here, bucko!" Of course, Moxxie would know that. It felt ironic considering that his Boss never calls his own Boss "Sir". "Bitch", "Asshole" and "Gape-holed limp dick" were common things used to refer to their temporary coworker and now pseudo-boss. The hierarchy at I.M.P was ridiculously convoluted.

Upon her boss barging into the conversation, she decided to introduce her colleagues to her parents. "Oh yeah! Y'all haven't met my boss Blitzø! And his hellhound!"

Loona felt insulted from the comment. She wasn't I.M.P's fucking pet for Hell's sake! "I'm not just his hellhound." She let out a small growl.

"Yeah, she's my daughter!" Her guardian clarified to them while pulling the Hellhound close and latching on, similar to a python wrapping around a buck.

Loona, having none of his bullshit, broke his hold on her by flexing, causing his entire body to audibly creak as he stretched like a rubber band, then fell to the floor. "Only on paper!" She reminded him before pulling out her phone and began stabbing (carefully) at the screen. "Y'all don't deserve to know my name." She was ignored as her guardian walked away to greet his colleague's parents.

While Moxxie dodged the shove he saw coming a mile away, Blitzø was fine with public humiliation. "It's a pleasure to finally meet the sperm and egg factory that popped out this little gem of an assassin. You two raised a…" He playfully elbows Millie, which made a sound similar to a large bell being rung, then cursed under his breath due to her enhanced body. "…Sturdy bitch."

"That we did! So... Blitzø, is it? Heh heh. That's a fine name." Joe shook his hands with the other Imp. Muscles tensed, bones creaked, and enough force was exerted to crush a normal demon's rib cage. Yet neither backed down, neither made any indication they were giving their all to mangle their opponent's hand. A true man's exchange, that was broken with a silent understanding and unclasping of iron fingers.

"It reminds me of war." Lin commented upon hearing the name, a dreamful smile crossing her face as she saw battles and trenches from her glory days.

"Nothing like a little war to make a strong man!" Millie's father let out a happy sigh before he flexed his biceps.

Blitzø can't help but make a snarky remark to the elder imp. "I like you people."

Moxxie thought it'd be appropriate if he'd join in their conversation. "Y'know... more battles were won by technological advances in warfare. I've researched the history of weaponry extensively, and it's inspiring how..." He decided to leave the part out where he and his colleagues mutilated the Hunter for ten straight minutes (And that's another event that'd haunt him for life. For fuck's sake, was there anything that asshole wouldn't do to spite him?!),"…For example, the progression of guns utilizing angelic technology has changed the landscape of Hell's combative..." He looked over to the side where his wife was frantically signaling an 'x' with her hands, before turning to his father-in-law, who had his arms crossed. "I mean…war fun!" He corrected himself in a deep voice.

"Guns get the job done... but a man ain't nothin' if he can't tear the head off a hellish beast with only his bare... hands!" Joe reminded him. This reminded the marksman of the Hell he and the others had been put through for the sake of being "professional".

"I Understand!" He quickly responded while he straightened himself, shoving memories away.

His boss laughed at his meek declaration, before he proceeded to egg him on in a baby tone. "He's right, Moxxie! You got cute wittle baby hands like your baby dick!" He grabbed his subordinate's hand and reached towards his crotch, which caused the other male imp to grab his arm in a specific spot, halting him as instinct told him to freeze.

"Refrain... sir." Moxxie sternly reminded his boss. Blitzø winced slightly at the viper's fangs positioned on his elbow. Moxxie had done that a while back, when Blitzø had been fucking around hard enough, and had knocked his arm out of commission for an hour. Moxxie had begged for forgiveness afterwards, saying he didn't know what came over him, but Blitzø wouldn't forget the fact that Moxxie hadn't even blinked when he was popping his boss' joint out of its socket. Unnerving.

Joe looked over at the two male imps roughhousing, before something else came up in his mind. "Speakin' of strong hands, y'all should meet our newest help." He turned to the other side to call out. "Hey! Striker!"

I.M.P heard the hooves of a horse thundering towards them, and all of them turned to see an imp wearing a cowboy getup riding a black hell horse with a fiery mane. The steed leapt over a fence, before rearing up and roaring to the skies. The cowboy (cowimp)(?) tips his hat in greeting with a stalk of Hell hay in his mouth. "Well, howdy! Oh, lookie here! You must be the famous Mildred!" Striker jumped from his horse and walked towards the female imp. "What're y'all doin' so far away from Imp City? Heh, the free workin' finally slowin' down?"

Millie quickly shook her head. "Oh, no! Freelance isn't free! It's a—... Never mind. We're just visitin' for the festival. The prince is our boss's boyyyyfrieeeend!" She said the last word very dramatically.

Blitzø felt insulted the way she said about the Goetia. "Millie, I am not above hitting a female in front of her daddy." And that caused his colleagues and adoptive daughter to groan inward.

Strike now shifted his attention to him. "Boss, huh...? Ohhh, YOU'RE the bold imp that started his own killing biz?"

"Yeah, well if you're good at somethin', you should probably capitalize." Blitzø clarified. After all, there really was NO ONE else better than them! Nope, not even ONE person came to mind!

Striker was astonished by his way of thinking. "Not many Imps start businesses like that on their own. That's pretty impressive, sir."

"Oh...! Yeah? It is— I-I-I guess- I guess it is, isn't it?" He said while stammering within his words. To be finally recognized! This was the best feeling ever!

The cowboy imp(?) then moved to another subject. "So you even conned that ditzy blueblood into gettin' you to the surface?" He grabbed Blitzø's hand and shook. Striker sensed just how physically strong the other one was, a respectable strength for an Imp. It was just borderline…unnatural.

"Well, it's long and complicated, but the short answer is yes." Now, Blitzø felt embarrassed to what he was about to say, "But he's not like, you know- W-We're y- We're not, like... We're not doing it... We w- What's betw- It's a transactional fucking, you see." He proceeded to make a sexual motion with his hands.

"Y'know... you boys should enter the Pain Games!" Joe told the two, causing Blitzø to scuttle away to his side, embarrassed and desperate to hide it.

"I heard games! What games, I'm in!" Blitzø quickly inquired. 'I just hope it'll be on the same level where we properly fought the Hunter with our new toys!' He then imagined using the Whirligig Saw in that event.

A deranged smile split his face, as Lin explained. "Every harvest festival, there's a competition to be the roughest, toughest bastard in Wrath!"

Hearing this made Millie cross her arms and let out a pout. "Yeah! Wish I could play!"

"Millie, you know you get too carried away. The last competition ended in fifteen separate funerals." Her mother reminded her, remembering the previous games she attended.

"I'm aware, but I only caused nine of them! How come Sallie May still gets to compete?" She complained before whining at the thought of her sister competing without her.

"Your sister doesn't have a neighborhood head count." Lin calmly answered.

"She so does!" She barked back. At the same time, that same sister passed by carrying a sack, with another imp dragging a dead imp body.

"It doesn't count if they don't find the bodyyyyyy!" She chimed in with a sing-song voice, which only made Mille seethe.

"Still, you get to root for her and your brothers, and now you can cheer on your boss!" Lin assured her daughter.

That topic made Moxxie place a hand on her shoulder. "Y'know, she can also cheer for me." He told her.

His father-in-law heard this before he let out a laugh, making him wheeze and slap his leg in the process. "…Wait, you?"

"Yeah! I can compete, can't I?" Moxxie spoke, wondering if they would gain his respect.

-Scene Change-

A hellhog peacefully slept within the confines of a pigpen. Moxxie cautiously walks towards the animal with a dagger and rope Striker had given him. All the while he was deep in thought about his Boss's words. "Now, just remember, your rep with the in-laws is on the line here! So, no pressure at all, you totally will not make an ass of yourself in front of everyone important in your life. Go get 'em, tiger."

Though he felt very nervous (considering he hasn't taken down a defenceless animal in his life), he wanted to prove himself. To his wife's parents that he could be capable of handling himself. His nervousness wasn't helping since his wife, his in-laws, his two colleagues, and Striker watched within the wooden gates. It didn't deter him from killing this boar. "Everyone is watching and it's time to prove myself! To prove that I am capable of handling myself for the pain game! I just hope Hunter's training would be valuable here!" With this in mind, he slowly approached the hellhog, doing his damn best not to get its attention.

The Sniper was able to get close to it without waking it up, thus giving him the opportunity to strike. No time to waste, Moxxie leapt towards the sleeping animal to pin it down. But there was a sudden upset.

Instead of being on top of it, Moxxie found himself at the hellhog's side, the rope tightly wrapped around its neck. This woke the animal, and it frantically squealed, thrashing around to run away from him. Right before he could raise the dagger, instincts that weren't his flared up, as the Man-eating Boar was stunned from the bullet sinking into it's thick skin, rattling what could barely be called a brain. The beast squealed, as it staggered on uneven hooves in an attempt to regain its bearings, resulting in it facing away from her. Opportunity presented, she grabbed her serrated throwing knife, then he flipped the dagger in his right hand to be blade-first, then…

Shoved his entire arm…

Right up its rectum…

The Hellhog screamed in agony, the twisted dagger tearing its softer innards apart with every thrash it made, blood and fecal matter spraying all over the pen. After a second of being in there, Moxxie yanked his arm back out, revealing the blood-shit stain that coated his right arm up to his elbow. Even more insides spewed out, and the Hellhog let out one final, gasping squeal, before face planting in the mud, dead. The knife had small bits of gut sticking to the serrated parts, and shit was ingrained into the grooves and notches.

The spectators who watched the scene before them had varying reactions. Blitzø was pissing himself at his Marksman giving the poor thing a back-alley prostate exam. "I ALWAYS KNEW YOU WERE A PAIN IN THE ASS! HAHAHAHAAAAAA!"

Loona had recorded the whole thing, expecting something for a fail video, but was impressed how this fatty butchered the animal. "This is fuckin beautiful," she commented, already seeing the temporary fame that awaited him once they got back. Her nose wrinkled 'No fucking way is he getting within ten feet of me for the rest of the week.'

His in-laws were impressed by this satisfying takedown, although there was a touch of disgust shown in their eyes. That was Joe's favorite shaving knife! And he ruined the liver and kidneys! Both were the best parts to fry, but now they were mush! At least he didn't fuck up the heart, that can at least be used for stew. 'Hmm, do I even need to gut it?'

Striker, however, was visibly grossed out. He'd thought the scrawny little guy would need a hand in taking the pig down, not fucking sodomize it! Something caught his eye. Under the glove that had been pulled up on exit (Uugh, it's prolapsed), something glowed. He didn't catch what it was, but now it had his eye. 'Looks like these here cityfolk got a few secrets of their own. I reckon I could use that against them, if need be. First, I gotta find it.'

Out of everyone, Millie was the only one who was outright confused by her husband's 'method' of killing the hellhog. She saw that his first plan was to rope it and stick it, using the lasso to cut its air, then slashing its throat while it was down. Personally, she always enjoyed the 'ride it until it's out of steam, then break its neck.' technique. Yet, some instinct had made him change his approach. This wasn't the first time now that she thought of it. 'Moxxie ain't usually like this, but ever since he got that antique pistol he swears by, he's been a lot more direct with his close-range kills.' A proud, yet slightly grim smile crossed her face. 'I'm glad that worked out then, I was worried he was about to make a fool of himself. But now,' She turned to look at her parents, who seemed to have a small sense of respect within their eyes. 'Let's see what they think of that!'

"EW! EW! EW! EW! EW! EW!" Moxxie squalled, smelling the shit-blood stains that were starting to dry on his arm. "It's fucking everywhere, oh fuck!"

Millie slumped slightly. 'Ah. I ferget he's squeamish like that sometimes. How are we gonna clean this up? No WAY that filthy shirt's comin' back home with us.'

He used his left to wipe it off while it was still relatively fresh, but all that did was spread it further. This wasn't what he expected, but doing it like that had felt right somehow, although that was definitely not the case now! 'Why the fuck did I do that!? That was disgusting! Oh fuck how am I gonna wash this off, blood already such a mess to clean, but now there's shit and guts and fuck fuck FUCK!'

He failed to notice Striker walking up to inspect the thoroughly dead game (and try to take a peek under Moxxie's glove), which gained his attention by rattling his spade tail near him. "I gotta say, that's not what I expected from a city boy like ya! Good work I suppose, saves me some of the trouble of gutting it." As he hefted the boar over her shoulder, and turned to walk away, he turned back to Moxxie. "I suppose it's not too late to make a man of you yet."

Moxxie only stared at him silently, in slight awe (but still disgust at his arm) before he walked away with the hellhog over his shoulder, looking back to the others. "Hey, boss man! You wanna help the men skin this thing for dinner?"

Blitzø excitedly threw his fists up in the air while the cowboy walked past him along with Millie's parents. "Oh, I am always down to skin the manly meat with the manly men!"

"That's what she said!" Loona commented before joining the others.

Her guardian figure took offense to this comment. "What "who said"? Wait, what bitch is talking shit about me?!" "Which one isn't more like" "What does that even mean?!"

While Loona and Blitzø pointlessly squabbled, and the others walked inside of the house, Millie approached Moxxie, who was still wiping the mess in his arms by scraping it on the wood, before patting him on the back to comfort him. "Well, at least you were capable there, Mox. But you don't need to do all of this to earn my parents' respect. They will give it to you eventually."

"No they won't!" Sallie May commented despite being far away, making Millie glare at her sister. "What? I'm right, ain't I?" Then, she saw the blood and shit that coated the pen. "Ah, what the fuck did you do?! I'm on pen cleaning duty today you ass!" Sallie was not happy about having to clean up whatever the hell happened. It's like they slaughtered fifteen fat men with explosive diarrhea! Blood was fine, shit was ok, but both with guts?

As she wordlessly screamed, her words only motivated Moxxie. "Still, I'mma enter those games." Hearing this caused his wife to sigh but not out of sadness. Knowing the kind of hell they'd gone through thanks to the Hunter, she felt as though he'd be more capable in the Pain game. There's simply no point in dissuading him to not partake.

"Hmm, how pissed would you be if I bet on him dyin'?" Her sister, apparently over whatever fit of rage she was having, appeared out of nowhere and leaned onto the fence near the couple, which caused Millie to glare at her sister again.

-Scene Change-

After changing into another shirt plus somehow cleaning most of his right arm (he could still smell it, even after using almost all the soap he had brought), Moxxie found himself crowded near a stage and stood near his boss and Striker. Up in the platform, an imp, who seemed to work in a lot of odd jobs, stood within it with a microphone in hand. " Welcome, I say-a, welcome-a... all to Wrath-a Ring's-a annual-a Harvest-a Moon-a... a-Festival!" Wally Wackford greeted in a dramatic tone.

Blitzø covered his ears because goddamn this imp was so loud! Striker took note of this. 'Sensitive hearing? Not something Imps normally suffer from. Little dude's not affected, but he's squintin' and it's barely noon, plus his eyes are dartin' around everywhere. Sensitive vision, and advanced motion tracking. If we get in a scrap, flashbangs would take both out.' "To kick things up, we have the great prince Stolas-a, here to usher in this here Pain Games!"

The leader of I.M.P and his Sniper turned to the Goetia and noticed a very unusual look. His eyes were very sleepy and blinked a lot, which signaled he had had little sleep. "Uh, Boss, why does Prince Stolas look so…tired?" Moxxie had asked, knowing what his boss did last night. Blitzø squinted at the Goetia, then groaned.

"Looks like someone was up all-night reading again!" Blitzø was unfortunately familiar with this side of the Prince. Anytime he found something that caught his eye, he'd spend every waking hour focused on nothing but that. He remembered the time the Prince had found a half-burned book, from some place called… fuck what was it? Bergworth? Burgermart? Whatever. Point is, the Prince had spent fifty-two hours awake, and he wasn't even reading the damn thing! Just poking at it with all kinds of weird equipment and hissing at anyone that got too close. (Him hissing at Stella would forever be the funniest lock screen Octavia had shown him) Eventually, him and Octavia had managed to remove the book from his position by baiting him into his bedroom, then filling the room with chloroform gas. After he had passed out (another three goddamn hours what the fuck is he made of!?), Blitzø had snuck in, nabbed the book, and the two of them dumped it in the fireplace, ignoring the way it screamed when it burned. Sure enough, the Prince seemed to forget about the book the second it was gone and had eaten for the first time in three days after that.

After that, Blitzø had started to remind him about the real world, so that he wouldn't walk off a balcony or into one of Stella's poorly laid traps, by fucking him in the ass every time he picked up anything that even looked suspicious in his presence. So far it worked, but apparently Blitzø was gonna have to be a bit more thorough. He still remembered the night he and Stolas had fun (And Goddamn, the Prince is a good rider!), but there's a non-negligible chance that he'd have to 'saddle up' again after this was over.

The Goetia Prince slowly blinked his eyes, one after the other, and saw that everyone was waiting for him to make his announcement. Rubbing his eyes, he let out a yawn before standing up and walking to Wackford. He took the microphone off from the imp before letting out an embarrassed chuckle. "How kind, Wackford." Now he turned to the crowd. "Greetings, tiny... Wrath Ring Imps! I hereby welcome you all to another year of celebrating the spoils of your labor that continue to feed the citizens of Hell!"

Instead of getting applause, all of them just glared at the Prince. Some even let out a few "boos!". Well, this was getting awkward. Stolas needed to make this fast. "I'm happy to kick off the start of these games that will challenge the toughest Imps to show their skill in dominance. Good luck to you all!" He shifted his attention to a certain individual, which boosted his energy from his sleep depravity. "Especially that sexy little one there... Yoo-hoo! Blitzy!" He let out a friendly wave.

Blitzø could only glare at the prince while both Moxxie and Striker quickly glanced at him. "Ugh. Fuck me."

…

…

…

*BANG*

With that gunshot, the Pain Game had already begun. And sure enough, two imps were already taking the spotlight.

First, Blitzø and Moxxie jolted in a blink of an eye within the trail as the run began, leaving Striker and the other contestants far behind! Oh dear, Stolas never realized how fast his darling was. Now that explains how he was too fast in their deal.

The next game, they both excelled in climbing the wooden ramp structure with varying results. While Blitzø leaped from it, clearing with meters to spare, Moxxie nearly fell into the pond, but she twisted midair as she spotted a monstrous shark lurking within the murky waters. It lept, jaws with far too many eyes closing in on her. Angling just right, she snapped its jaw shut and pushed it onto its back with a well-placed kick, then plunged her hands into the water, pierced the creature with his hands, and speared its heart out. Landing on the floating carcass, he nervously glanced at the heart still twitching around his pointed fingers. Oh crumbs, he did it again, and this time it was against this event's property! As much as he wanted to barf, he'd need to hold it in. To save himself from embarrassment, and also to keep up with his leader. Who had already finished. Crumbs.

As he hopped to the shore, a heavy set of boots landed next to him, and immediately started bolting for the line. Not one to be left behind anymore, Moxxie pursued, and both Imps were soon neck and neck. The line got closer, closer, and then…. "TIE!" Breathing a bit heavy, Moxxie turned to his opponent, and held out his hand.

"Marvelous race my friend!" As Striker just stared at him uneasily, Moxxie looked down, and realized the heart was still on his hand. Panicking, he waved his hand around, trying to shake it off, while Striker plotted and schemed. 'Never thought I'd see that today, but he's surprised too. Instinct maybe? The Hell kinda instincts make you rip a heart out?! I'm gonna need some answers after this is done.'

Tug of war. Now, that type of game would normally mean Moxxie loses instantly over the others and his boss. Yet, somehow, he was barely keeping on par with his boss along with Striker, who they teamed up against three muscular imps (making Moxxie blush and be momentarily distracted before getting out of his fantasies) where the trio easily yanked the rope towards them. The three muscular imps fell into the water due to the rope pushing them off the platform and unfortunately became the snack of the monstrous sharks. Still, they were somehow still alive.

Though he wasn't behind Blitzø and Moxxie, Striker's suspicion only grew to new heights. He barely had to put in any muscle, yet Blitzy and the Little dude were smoking the others like prize bulls 'gainst ponies. String beans beatin' pure muscle in a tug-a-war? Horseshit. The way these two city imps played; they were definitely riggin' the odds, but how? Did they have help? Who? The Goetia? 'Couldn't be, while he has his favorite, he's done jack-shit to help. Don't think he really cares much about this truth be told, just here because he needs to be. Sleep deprived too, so while he's only aware of his immediate surroundings, he's also not pulling any mental strings. Makes the shot easier, but answers none of my questions.' He needed to figure out these Imps, and why they made so little sense.

Wrestling. In a pen topped with barbed wire. If that weren't enough overkill, it was fought in a mud pit. As Striker grappled against Blitzø, the assassin in disguise could feel the substantial difference in strength between them and disengaged before he could be pinned to the ground. Blitzø wasn't making it easy, his unnatural contortions making it easier to catch greased soap in a hurricane, and was closing the distance, laughing like a loon. At the same time, Moxxie had quick stepped to the side of the first Imp that tried to dogpile him and drove the palm of her fist into the mutated Yharnamite's jaw, sending elongated and sharpened teeth flying through the air, and quickly stepped behind another that tried to tackle her. Wrapping her arms around the waist of the guy in front of him, squeezing hard enough that he heard bones pop, she then performed a suplex that could shatter stones, but instead buried the poor sod up to his chest in the mud. Despite her small size, he grabbed two burly Imps by the base of their horns, bashing their heads together, causing them to slump, concussed, to the muddy ground. She took a moment to catch his breath, as she looked at his surroundings to see what he had done.

'What in the unholy fuck what is happening?! What are these flashes? Who was that? I…I need to get my head straight I-I can't I-'

Moxxie's panicked internal tirade was ground to a halt by two external senses. A heavy hand clapping on his shoulder (and causing a minor bruise to form) and hearing some- wait no- many people shouting his name.

"-x! Mox! MOX! MOX! MOX! MOX! MOX! MOX!"

They…they were cheering? But…why? He wasn't that strong; he wasn't that burly! He was just…surrounded by the weakly twitching forms of his opponents. Ah. That'd do it.

"I TOLD YOU HE'D DO IT!"

A voice boomed like thunder, audible over all other noises. Turning towards it, he saw his wife standing there, foot slowly caving in the wooden guardrail it was planted on. As her family watched on (With approval! With admiration! And with slight winces, from Millie screaming from directly next to them), she shouted her declaration for the whole festival to hear.

"I HOPE YOU GOT SOME MORE FIGHT LEFT IN YOU MOX! YOU'RE GONNA BE NEEDIN' IT TONIGHT!"

A blush spread across his face, as the rest of the spectators started laughing and whistling at the poor lover-boy getting his just rewards. 'Well… I guess it would be nice. I hope she's gentle tonight, I'm going to be a bit soft for the next few days. Oh what am I saying, I'm taking what I've earned tonight!'

The crowd cheered louder as Moxxie flirtatiously winked back at her, causing Millie's feral smile to stretch into pure hunger. Worried that she'd jump him in public, he hurriedly mounted later to her, then turned back to Blitzø. Who had somehow managed to wrap himself around Striker's upper torso like a lasso. Striker seemed confused as to how Blitzø's body functioned, while Blitzø was immobile, having managed to tie himself into a perfect honda knot, and having no way to escape. Having gained an unfortunate amount of experience with 'undoing' the knots his boss made himself into, Moxxie sighed, and got to work.

Once the game had ceased, and all contestants were more or less conscious, the wacky imp jumped back onto the stage, and landed like a superhero, before standing back up. "I say, I say, for the first year ever, we have a three-way tie for winner of the Harvest Moon Pain Games! First ever in documented history, and maybe the last time ever! These are the roughest, toughest bastards in Wrath I do declare!"

Right as he was about to announce the winners, Stolas had, rather rudely given how he was semi-awake now, taken the microphone off from the imp. "The Winners are my daaaarrrlling Blitzy and his Marksman sidekick! And also Striker I suppose."

Blitzø and Moxxie, who stood at the side of the stage, heard this announcement. The former only rolled his eyes at what he heard. "Just say my name RIGHT! Fuckin' dick." Still, he walked with a bit of bounce, flexing towards the losers as he ascended the stage. Moxxie just chuckled and turned where his wife sat in one of the wood benches and saw the look of pride in her eyes. The parents were almost smiling! He'd gained more affection at this one event than his entire time knowing them in person! Which wasn't truthfully long, but still. Shifting to Striker, he can't help but feel uneasy. He'd been…focused, ever since the end of the match. His eyes had narrowed into his, like he was looking for something inside them. Something he didn't find, as evident by the rush of air from his nose, and him walking away.

For a moment, he was worried that Striker was sore about not being first alone, but it seemed he had only had eyes on him specifically. Oh no…was Striker into him? 'It's just like one of my trashy romance novels! But why did it have to be me?! Why couldn't it be the boss instead!?' But, after a bit of thought (and a dose of common sense administered via palm to forehead), it felt more like Striker was sizing him up. Did that mean he was a 'real man' now that he was considered a threat? Oh this was just too confusing!

Back with Millie, she was barely keeping herself in control. Her honey was right there, and she had to keep herself from jumping his bones right then and there. That sassy little wink, he knew what it was doing at it was driving her insane!

As her claws were slowly adding deeper scratches to the already scarred benches, sanity revealed itself via her parent's whispers. "-he's not exactly-." "-told us soone-" "uscle out of thin air-" "-right choice-" Her fingers unclenched. They were proud of him! Sure, it took competing in the Pain Games (That she's still pissed about being banned from!), the deadliest sport in 50 miles, but it worked! The female imp gazed at her parents, and saw their expressions were slightly improving. It wasn't much, but Moxxie was getting there.

"I gotta say…" She turned to Striker, who sat next to her, with a little space between due to her fingers still lodged in the wood. "That little swanky husband of yours sure puts on a show!"

"Yeah, he sure does!" She admitted with the same pride.

"That got me thinkin', what's with that glow under his glove?"

The female imp looked at the farmhand with a very bewildered expression. 'What is he on about?' "Glow? What glow are'ya on about? Only thing I care for right now is getting him in me now."

Now, Striker was a patient Imp. He'd managed to crack a particularly stubborn criminal after twelve hours of enhanced interrogation techniques, so he knew how to keep his head cool in these kinds of situations. However, one of them turned themselves into a lasso, and the other's likely possessed, as well as a fifth of his fat paycheck riding on no one knowing it was him that did it. Any and all liabilities or otherwise unaccountable variables must be 'sorted out' before he made his play. And yeah, he was a bit pissed about sharin' the stage, sue him. But now that 'high noon' was approaching, he didn't need someone playin' stupid right before the tumbleweeds started rolling in. "Don't play now, Mildred. I know you're involved in whatever the Hell's up with him. Same could be said for your boss." He warned her, tone straight but lightly laced with venom.

Mllie, however, was still confused about what he was saying. Considering she was barely keeping her pants on from how horny she was, pretty much anything that wasn't her hubby tearing his pants off in front of her went through both ears. "Oh, we ain't gonna be playin' around tonight, that's for sure. If I ain't pantin' like a Hellhound in July by the time he's done I'm gonna straddle him, an-"

Well, the cowboy imp wasn't able to pry anything from her. But, that didn't staunch his curiosity from looking into the city imp. If she wasn't a reliable source, then he'd have to find the next person to answer his demands.

-Scene Change-

Back in Millie's ranch, everyone was busy setting something up (well, Millie and her family were doing the yard work while Blitzo was just watching Striker's horse devouring a corpse). Inside of the house, Moxxie walked up a flight of stairs, wanting to lie down after that crazy experience (he'd need to meet the Hunter within the Dream to explain these weird flashes soon). Reaching the top, he heard something. His ears flicked like satellites, assessing and dissecting the signal. 'A choir? One of the Soprano's throats are dry, and some of the Alto members have had their tonsils removed, but there's no doubt about it, that's a heavenly choir. But that means…'

Walking towards the door the sounds were coming from, Evelyn already in hand, the sniper slowly opens it, and peers around the room before his eyes land onto the bed with a box on top. 'Noise is coming from there. Unless he's packed a chapel in there, I'm certain there's only one thing I'm gonna find.' Cautiously, he crept over to the slim, long box 'Walnut base, fine lacquer finish, whatever's in here is high-end and expensive', and opened it carefully, revealing a slender, pure silver rifle. "Oh my crumbs!" he whispered, recognizing the metal to be Angelic Steel (He'd gotten used to it since his Wife's Modified Axe shined in their room as they slept at night. Helpful if you had to piss at 3am, not helpful when you got close enough to hear the choir screaming.). He ran his hand down the side of the rifle, inspecting its make and model. 'I'm probably the first to even touch this rifle, let alone fire it. Scope's not set yet, but seems capable of 12x. Ammunition, 6.66 Devil Slayer round, singular. Not going for many targets, or he's sure he won't miss.Only one target is even worth this beast. Stolas.'

"What're ya touchin', little dude?" Moxxie freezes up as he hears Striker's voice behind him. He'd gotten so into his inspection that he hadn't heard the boots creeping up on him, or the cloth and leather of Striker's clothes rustling. Turning around, he saw the cowboy imp leaning on the side of the door. "You know, it's rude to go through someone's stuff when they ain't around." "Of…of course! M-my apologies, but I mus-"

"Nah." The door shut behind him. "Now that you're here, I wanted to ask you somethin' that's been burnin' at me ever since you violated that hellhog." Stepping away from the door, Striker slowly advanced on the Imp. taking the long way around the room, towards the window.

Moxie could only gulp, feeling nervous about whatever he was going to say. "W-what is it?"

Striker glanced out the window, then nodded to the other imp's right hand. "Yer really attached to that glove aintcha? It's strange that you wore it even after you tossed the other one. Makes me wonder just what that dim little glow is."

'Crumbs' "W-What glow? I c-can assure you th-that t-there's no such g-glow coming from me!" Moxxie was not handling this well. First he finds this guy's probably trying to kill someone, then he's stuck in the room with him, and now he's asking about the mark! "W-well, you s-see it's quite a funny st-"

"I'm sure it is, little dude." Striker had turned the lights out, and was right next to the curtain, where the sun was peering through the window, illuminating his poisonous eyes. "But tell me, who'd ya get it from?" Moxxie stiffened. "Ah, so I was right 'bout that. But now the question is, who? That Goetia y'all been stalkin'? Some Overlord? Or is it somethin' else?"

"Why do you need to know?" Moxxie was starting to feel how this was unfolding, and was starting to get his thoughts in order. A fight in a small room, against an opponent who's CQC was remarkable, were terrible odds for the Marksman. If he could somehow get one of the others in here before things went bad, it would even the odds in his favor, but she'd first have t- AAAAAUUGH!

Bright, blinding light filled Moxxie's vision, Striker having used his recently polished belt buckle to shine the sun directly into his eyes, causing temporary blindness. As he stumbled around, Striker continued to talk. "Yer eyes gave you away. Every time you do one of those things, yer eyes change color and dilate. Kinda like mine, 'cect mine ain't half as sensitive as yers."

Moxxie couldn't see. The light, combined with the dark room, meant that his sight was out of the picture, but her hearing was perfectly…

FWEEEEEEEEE

Nails on chalkboards, metal in a woodchipper, a chainsaw against wrought iron, none of these were even close to the agony that was assaulting Moxxie's eardrums at this moment. Now he was both blind and deaf, the device in Striker's hand rendering his hearing inert. "Yer ears swoop out like sails too, makes it easy to figure out they're hearin' things they normally shouldn't." The gun was kicked from his hand. Moxxie was helpless.

"Now that that's taken care of, let's see what's under here, shall we?" And with that, Striker grabbed the thrashing Imp by the arm, rips off the glove, and h̸i̶s̶ ̴e̴y̸e̵s̴ ̸s̵t̵a̷r̶t̵e̸d̶ ̵ b̵̢̼͇͓̯̂́͛͑͐̉̐͘͘͝͝u̸̢̨̧̎̏̾̑̚r̶͓͖̱̝͋̅̅̄͑̈́̒͂͗̿̍͘͝n̴̡̢̢͚̲͎͓̟̦͖̫̪̾̽͜i̵̡̜̹̖͔̹͍̰͛͂n̸̡̨̢̢̮̪̲̯͉͚̈͊̅́͊̊͂̀̈́̃g̸͍̗̎͐͛̿̽̽̀.

LITERALLY OUTSIDE OF THE SAME BUILDING…

Millie heard something within her home. Her instincts flared up at the sound of her husband screaming, but got more tense from a grunt of pain that wasn't his. By the way it sounds, he was about to get violated by…Striker? Okay, why in the actual fuck is that cowboy interested with her husband!? Without her!?

Snapping back to reality, she bull rushed into the house, and turned into a blur as she reached the stairs. She bashed into the room, and saw the cowboy imp rubbing his eyes, standing over Moxxie with his clothes removed (really, just his glove pulled off, but Millie wasn't in a right state of mind). "WHAT THE FUCK AR'YE DOIN' WITH MY HUSBAND?!"

Striker and Moxxie, both with semi-obscured vision, blearily turned to look at the female imp, and Moxxie, still suffering from his senses being fried, reached his hand to her. "Millie, help me…"

Rage. Pure, unfiltered, hate coursed through her. Blinded by her wrath, her first wild swing at Striker didn't even get close to connecting, but the force of it rattled the window in its frame, and caused the curtains to flutter. Her second swing was ducked under, Striker keeping a hand on his hat to keep it from getting yanked off by the wind. 'FUCK she's strong, if I get hit once it's curtains. He's still the bigger problem though, can't have him anywhere near me.' As he dodged and weaved under, around, and through a few more haymakers that could level buildings, giving a few testing counters to soften her (nothing worked, she was an iron fucking wall), he digested his newly-acquired intel.

Striker had seen what it was that the Imp had fought so hard to hide. He now knew why it had been such a pain to figure out their tricks, and what the hell was up with the sniper. The mark was a brand, and an Eldritch one at that (Caused him a minor headache and his eyes were still itchin'). He had been right, they had been cheating, but he was wrong about how. He thought they had a blessing from an Overlord or the Prince, but no, the members of I.M.P were an Elder Being's Chosen! Most elders wouldn't even stir for the vast majority of their flock, but every now and then, when the stars aligned and enough blood was spilled, they handpicked one that had been deemed worthy, and granted them uncountable boons. Boons that could definitely turn the odds in their favor, like what had been happening at the carnival. The leader's unnatural flexibility fit, as did the bruiser'sEven the most seasoned cult-buster rarely ran into one, and even fewer walked away alive, fewer still with all parts attached. He himself had only met one, some Weasel Sinner that had rambled about eyes and spiders, and he had barely escaped with his life in tow. One Chosen was enough reason for an entire elite dispatch to be sent down to Hell, but fucking four!? They'd send a Seraph if he was lucky, a fucking SAINT if he wasn't. That's assuming he even got out alive, because fresh or not, Chosen are always being watched by their foul God, unless something truly catastrophic was happening elsewhere.

He had to bail. NOW. Damn his curiosity, he should've known better than to meddle with things he didn't understand. Damn the contract too, no money was worth catching the attention of something other. 'But first, I can take one with me. Chosen or not, other or not, all of us share the same weakness.' At this, he made his move. After ducking under another high hook, he yanked the enraged bruiser by the forearm, and kicked out her leading leg mid-air, causing her form to buckle, and she was overextended long enough for him to disengage. Long enough to vault over the bed, grabbing his rifle as he did, slamming his emergency bullet into the receiver and cycling the bolt. Long enough to land in a crouch, sights roughly set on the recovering Imp's heart.

Long enough to pull the trigger.

PWWWM

CRACK

-Scene change to a minute ago because fuck you-

Blitzo was walking around the ranch, Bombproof having wandered off, and he had only just realized that his favorite voyeurism victims weren't present, and was actively looking for them, hoping to show up while they were in the act. "Ooooh Millie~~! Moxxie~~! You guys better not be fucking without me there to witness~~!"

CRASH

'Found them. Sounds like it's really heating up, I'd better hurry.' As he hustled towards the sound, he couldn't help but wonder something. 'Is there a third person already there? A fellow Connoisseur of the fine arts? I wonder if they'll be into competitive sex.' Moving faster, he now had his plan. Barge into the room as loudly as possible, and hopefully Mox won't get blue-balls like last time.

-Scene change to now, unfuck you-

A shot has been fired, but no one was hit. Millie, having snapped out of her rage at the gunshot, looked down at her chest before placing a hand on it. No bullet had pierced her (which, considering the bullet was of the Lethal kind, was a very fortunate occasion.). She turned to Striker, rage pooling up in her again now that it was obvious she wasn't hit, who was now holding a sniper rifle. A sniper rifle that had been shattered into two. Turning to the furthest corner of the room, she saw her husband, who had recovered while the two were briefly brawling, Evelyn in hand with its barrel smoking. Moxxie's aim was impeccable, and he had managed to hit the weakest part of the rifle, causing it to break in half. The gun turned to Striker's eyes, Moxxie already reloaded in the few seconds it had been. "Don't even make a move!"

Damn. The odds were against him again. Striker realized the other imp's quickdraw was lightning fast. Faster than him. He should be angry, but he wasn't. He didn't have the time to be angry, since this dual was gonna be a gunfight if he didn't bail. Seeing his chance getting thinner, he plotted his next course of action… and flung the shattered pieces towards Moxxie, the sharp Angelic fragments making good throwing knives.

Moxxie's eyes widened at the speed the pieces were moving. Fear guided his mind as she knew she wouldn't be quick enough to sidestep to safety…

*SLAM*

*SH-SHUNK SH-SHUNK*

"Are you two fucking already?!" Blitzø entered the room bombastically, throwing the door open with enough force that it swung back, catching the fragments in their path. He wasn't aware that a shattered piece had almost stabbed entirely through the door, the sniper cross-eyed as he stared at the sharp point mere inches away from his eyes.

He was expecting some roughhousing, but not to this extent! The walls were dented, stuff was all over the floor, and they hadn't even taken their clothes off yet! Wait, he was missing something here. 'Gunsmoke, tense muscles, darting eyes? Ah fuck they're having a shootout! Without me! AGAIN!' By the looks of it, none of his colleagues had spilled blood, but Moxxie was still feeling aftershocks, and Millie was slightly bruised (Slightly because Striker could not damage her. The bruises came from her hitting herself accidently). His and his colleagues' eyes darted to Striker, who was climbing out of the window while the others had been distracted. Right before he left, he gave a chilling reminder to the Sniper. "Watch yerself, Little One. You'll bring Heaven on our heads if that gets out." With that said, he jumped from the window, landing on Bombproof who had apparently been there a while, and hauled ass away.

Everyone could only watch in silence, dumbfounded to what the Cowboy had said. Blitzø blinked a few times, and he spoke. "What the fuck just happened?!"

"An assassination attempt on Stolas, Sir!" Moxxie yelled to him as he put his glove back on. His hearing was still gone, so he had to yell to hear himself. Thankfully, his boss was also incredibly loud, so he could hear him no problem. His wife walked to the side, and helped him to his feet, keeping an arm over his shoulders to help him get his bearings. "He caught me off guard, and would've killed me were it not for Millie's intervention! He was looking for the mark under my glove, apparently it had gained his attention!"

"I didn't realize he's got an interest of the mark," She said, comforting him about how his Branding got revealed.

Blitzø, of course, was taken back by this revelation. "Oh, shit! Did he really take it off!? Damn, Hunter is not gonna be happy with this." His colleagues knew he brought a valid point. The Hunter wanted them to leave him alone, but then only made it worse by showing their enemies their deepest secret. What could they do now? "Oh well, fuck him. Only thing was to keep Stolas from finding out, not some random schmuck with a cowboy fetish. At leas-"

"Quit using that fucking gun, Mox!" The entirety of I.M.P was present now, Loona entering the room after hearing that gunshot from the Fairgrounds, and getting annoyed at hearing it. It was ignorable the first couple of times the fatty had done it, but now he used it any chance he could! Nail loose? Shoot it. Paper needs to be hole-punched? Fucking shoot it. Fly buzzing around the room, and landing on her shoulder? GUESS WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED!? (He was lucky he hadn't missed, or she would have skinned him) "It's so fucking loud I could hear it from…far away…" She looked at the messy room and wondered what the fuck had occurred. "Damnit, would you quit fucking 'til we get back!?"

-Scene Change-

The morning sunlight beamed over the ranch as I.M.P packed their bags into the van. Well, it was most of them as Moxxie, after getting his hearing back, found himself standing in front of his wife's father. The other man's arms were crossed, and he was staring intently at him, not blinking. The Sniper could only let out a gulp and wondered why he wanted to see him before going. 'Oh crumbs, why does he need to see me? I somehow proved myself, but what more does he want from me!?'

A few moments had passed and the two imps stared at one another, one as unshaking as a mountain, the other barely keeping himself from shaking. The moment eventually broke as the elder imp smiled at Moxxie, and softly chuckled. "I gotta say, I never expected you to change from the previous time we met. You proved to handle yerself in the pain game. For that, you have earnt my respect." He offered a hand to him.

The Sniper Imp was taken off guard though he was able to recollect himself and took his hand before shaking it. "O-oh, really?! Thank you, Sir!" Sparkles were fully displayed in his eyes. While he was feeling accomplished after finally winning the affection of his in-laws, the thoughts that had been plaguing him came back. 'I still don't know what the fuck Evelyn is doing to me!? Who is 'she'? Why can I see the things she did? Was this hers once? The only type of demons who possess such an ability are the Infestors. But Hunter is more than that. I need to talk to him about these flashes.'

Joe let go at the other imp's hand and silently nodded before heading back to the ranch. Moxxie wasn't aware that his wife was standing on his left. "Wooow! He nodded! He's never acknowledged your input before! Especially the stunt ya pulled back in the games!"

Moxxie nearly jumped at hearing his wife speak, though he managed to regain his footing. Excitedly, thoughts pushed away for now, he asked her "Is that so? Does that mean its progress!?" She nodded at him, before walking towards the van to help the others. He followed suit, but not before having another thought of what Striker had done to him, the shame of his dignity being stripped away (It wasn't that serious, those trashy romances were poisoning his brain. Just his glove got pulled off). 'Striker was able to see the brand. Oh Crumbs, I hope nothing bad comes of this. He wouldn't tell anyone, right?"

…

…

…

Somewhere in a run-down motel, Striker sat on the bed, on a call with his contacter, spinning his angelic-coated revolvers around. "I failed to kill the target at the festival. Didn't expect some fierce resistance from his bodyguards. But don't worry, ma'am... It won't happen again."

On the other side of the call, a certain female Goetia impatiently drummed her fingers through the table. "It better not! I want this cheating prick dead! I don't care who you have to go through, MAKE IT HAPPEN!"

Unsurprisingly, Stella was sitting down on the dinner table, her husband sat on the opposite side and was too occupied to even care. His attention had been sucked dry the past day, with that piece of 'leather' (she knew it was human skin but didn't really fucking care what it is) he's been staring at for five hours keeping him from responding to her. He was practically being hand-fed by his daughter. Octavia, who was so much in a disarrayed state that she blasted music loudly on her earphone, was disappointed that it had happened again, and was waiting for the Imp to come back so that she would be done with this. Stolas, gaining clarity for a scant second, looked up at his wife for a moment, before looking back at the object in interest.

"Understood." Striker assured his handler before the female bitch Goetia hung up the call. Now, he was alone, twirling his gun again as he began planning. He had been close to killing his target, but didn't expect the three imps to set him back. That shouldn't worry him. What they were did. He'd had to re-evaluate his strategy for dealing with them and get some quality cult-busting equipment. "I'll get him next time. Just you wait. Your bodyguards will expect the next encounter to be…different." He let out an evil chuckle as he turned off the light, his poisonous eyes glowing in the darkness while his tail rattled.

Well, chapter a chapter to go, and 10k words no less. This is only the first chapter of two. So, expect it to come in December or January time.

Before moving on to the notes, I just wanna say this in the recent Vivziepop drama. Wow, whoever leaked that is a straight-up dick. I don't know the motives behind it, but I'm gonna say this. You have ruined someone's hard work and that is coming from someone who has had a bad past on writing Fanfiction before (Yes, I copied someone's work years ago and I still regret that action to this day). But please, don't do that again for your own reasons.

Now that is out of the way, here are our notes.

Crimson Soldat: So, Stolas has the key to the workshop but doesn't know how to function it. Which is good and bad. Good because it means the Hunter's secret is kept for now. But bad because Blitzø had inadvertently exposed the Hunter to the Goetia Prince.

HalfWitHillbilly: Well, first they'll have to somehow get it out of Stolas' grabby little hands, before he does or says something that opens a door. Tick tock Blitzo, your boss won't be happy if you fail.

CS: Next chapter will be bloody. So, there will be more actions! This time, it'll be one sided. And Moxxie will get his answer of the strange flashes eventually.

HH: Eventually, meaning five or seven years down the line (jk jk). But yeah, let's see how I.M.P handle something that stays dead when you kill it.

Comment down below what you want to see in future chapters! Right now, we have to go through the first Extermination first before anything else. For now, we will be looking at mostly original content.

With that said, we'll see you in the next update!

Chapter 19: Eldritch Bombshell

We intentionally skipped a very important moment. So, we're gonna have to clean it up. Don't look at me, my editor thought it would be funny to mess with you. (HH: It was. I will do it again.)

HH: So yeah, this is the secrets chapter, where all those spicy plotlines I've been cooking for the last couple of chapters begin to weave together in a particularly vile soup because I accidentally added capitalism. Sorry :(

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

XIX

Eldritch Bombshell

A DAY PRIOR…

BACK IN THE HUNTER'S DREAM…

"What does the name K̴̦̔o̴̻̚ŝ̵͖ mean to you?"

"My ex-boyfriend's great-aunt? I don't think I've ever talked to her, but what does she have to do with this?"

"Huh?" The Hunter was dumbfounded. That being had been there since the beginning of Yharnam. It was the event that created the Hunters, the Church, the endless Night. She caused the deaths of many and the madness of many more, yet the Princess was familiar with her? "You…know her…?"

Here, Charlie grimaced. "Well…know her is a strong word. She's part of the Von Eldritch family, and they've been around forever. Apparently, she's one of the older ones, and has uh, 'issues' when it comes to memory. Her and some of her friends live together, and they don't really communicate with the rest of the family often." Her posture slowly relaxed, as she rested her head on one palm, the other arm gesturing for emphasis. Charlie was in her element now, chatting like the Hunter was her bestie, eagerly soaking in her words. "Sevy told me that she used to be really sweet once, and that she always wished to have kids of her own, but never could. He also said she used to go topside when the rules weren't as strict, and her exploits in her youth were legendary. Did you know, the Loch Ness Monster was her skinny dipping? There's so much more about her that I couldn't believe was real in a million years, like-"

While Charlie was gushing about the admittedly epic tales of Kos in her prime, the Hunter was trapped within another moral dilemma, the tips of his fingers digging into the bridge of his nose, as a dark cloud settled around him. How could he have known? To think, the afflicted creature he had granted mercy to, was the child of such a beloved being? To think that the still, pale corpse washed upon the rocky shore had been more than the blood and the madness that had cursed Yharnam for years untold. How cruel fate is, to let a life so vast, so powerful, die with such indignity. And he had been there, the butcher of countless bloodlines. What more could have been done? They had been maddened, all of them. Had they?

His mind flashed back to the Great terrors he had faced. Amygdala, the many armed beings that crept across the cities of Yharnam, stalking the streets below unseen. 'Stalking, or curious? Rarely did they attack, and the ones that did acted as guards. Were they loyal dogs, or simple creatures?'

Ebriates, the Church's object of worship. 'It did not attack me when I first arrived. It was knelt over the body on the altar. Was it mourning the loss of its kin?'

Rom, the vast spider that had hid the true nature of Yharnam. 'Was it truly evil to hide such horrors from the mortal eyes of men?'

The strange, invisible being covered by a cloak, just before the end of the Night, drawn to the sound of a crying babe. 'Or…I had been drawn to the sound of it. It was formless, as was the child. Was it protecting the babe, or was the babe protecting itself?'

And the final horror of the Night. The Moon Presence. It had been his anchor for a long while, his only tether to the un-life he had suffered. It had healed him, and it had tortured him. It had broken him, and it had saved him. It had killed him and he had murdered it. 'What was its goal? Why had I, of all others, been spared? I slaughtered its kin, desecrated its plans, yet why was I granted sanctuary and respite? For what purpose did it need me? I shall never know, yet it shall haunt me unto eternity. Was I ever truly just in my actions, or was I merely as depraved as the creatures I hath slain?'

Steel glinted in his eye, as he broke free from the descending spiral his mind was being trapped within. 'No. They made their choices, I made mine. Theirs was to cause the madness of many chasing some unknown desire, mine was to survive at any cost. The minds of men are not to be shaped to one's desire, nor shall the blood of innocents be cursed for their ignorance. Yharnam was a mistake, and has thus been rectified.' Internally slumping a bit, he remembers the many victims of said mistake. 'If only I could have saved more than myself and the Doll, then my soul could rest free of torment.'

"Hunter…" The Hunter, still morose, looked to the Princess of Hell, the one who had saved him, and found the look that she had whenever someone she cared about was suffering. "You seem sad, are you alright?"

No. No he wasn't. Everything he had done in Yharnam, he had done to survive. Upon receiving his Saw Cleaver and Hunter's Pistol in the workshop after his first and most terrifying death, his path had crossed with horrors and hellions, saints and sinners, and had broken him into the mess that he is now. The numerous deaths he had suffered by the men and monsters he encountered, learning how the Healing Church operated, and… *sigh*. He couldn't take it anymore.

He was ready, whether he liked it or not. His eyes locked onto the Princess', as steel filled his very bones. "No. I have not for a very long time, to be truthful. But… it has been getting better, thanks to you. Do you recall what the Doll told you of me, on your first visit here?"

Charlie nodded, the… person? thing?... Doll being a curious fixation these past few days, as well as the pain she had described. "Yeah, she told me a bit about what you survived, but it felt strange, because how? How can you die without dying?"

"Then perhaps you would want to hear what I went through from my side of the story." He replied with a heavy tone of solemnity. "You deserve this much at least. Now, be warned, this is not a pleasant story, not to hear nor to recall. I shall be suffering alongside you." His hands were shaking. Why wouldn't they STAY STILL?!

Charlie reached across the table, placing her hand on his. The same hand that had been a vice clamp slowly relaxed, lying palm up on the table. "It's okay. I promise I'll be here for you." And she was. This wasn't Yharnam, this wasn't the Nightmare. It was safe here.

With renewed courage and a grounding weight upon his hand, he described his sordid tale to the Princess, who was a beacon of warm hellfire in the dark depths of his mind. While visions of blood and hunger danced across his mind as they spilled from his mouth, he was kept in reality by the angel disguised as a demon. He told her of his first foray into the cold streets, of oil lamps and broken carriages and coffins piled high and chained shut in fear of their resident's reanimation. He told her of fearful, paranoid people with twisted features and sharp tools, burning torches and old rifles, standing guard against the very people sworn to their protection, burning all that dared roam the streets at night. He told her of dark, damp and smelly sewers teeming with life too foul for the surface, of a lost child and her parents, a crushed body and a blood soaked ribbon. He told her about what used to be a cleric, leaping over a great wall to scream it's pain and fury into the night sky. He told her about a man as broken as he was, drowning in madness and grief with the twinkling notes of an old music box, turning into a monster before his very eyes. He told her of the other Hunters he had met on his journey; crows and vilebloods and holy men alike, all drowned in the same blood. He told her of the Church, its lies and its bloody secrets. He told her everything without missing any key details that may pique her interest. So far, she was horrified at the things he had gone through, but when he had mentioned the 'Great Ones', Charlie began to feel dread. He told her what he had learned, that they were once Great Beings from beyond who were worshiped by the previous denizens of Yharnam, the ancient Pthumerian people. She had tried to find more about them after waking from the dream a while ago, but could find little in comparison to the practical vault of history that was her host. She already knew about the people twisted in their image, the 'Kin' thanks to reading the Hunter's Journal, but was given more information about them and the other beings. All of that, in one night? It must have been a really bad curse.

While he continued to slowly unravel at the seams in front of her, she held his hand throughout the painful, agonizing memories. It was the least she could do, since he was spilling his heart in her hands. "As I continued through the research hall, and climbed to the top of the grand staircase, I stumbled upon a familiar face, sitting silently within the clocktower. At first I thought it was a recently fallen Hunter, but…" He let out a sigh, feeling the large gears turning above his head, as if he were there again. "Another Hunter, Simon, told me of one named Maria. He had said she guarded the secrets of the Nightmare with a bitter, burning blade. I had not expected her to be eerily similar to her…" He trailed his eyes to the Doll, who was happily occupied with cleaning the mess I.M.P had made in their short visit.

The Princess of Hell, connecting a few more dots in an already creepy pattern, shivered at the thought of how his Mentor, Gerhman, created his closest 'friend' modelled from that deadly Huntress. Then he had told him to 'use it as you please'. She didn't have strong feelings against that kind of thing normally, but normally they weren't alive and serving her tea. "She was one of your Mentor's first students, right? Why was she there in the first place?"

"The secret, which she had slain countless souls protecting, was the birthplace of every horror that befell me that Night. The blood curse, the Healing Church, the existence of the Nightmare. I didn't know what she was guarding at the time, but now? Now I wish I had avoided her." He responded, voice growing despondent. "Instead, at the cost of many visceral deaths, I defeated her. The last of the Old Hunters, a broken body in a long abandoned sanctum, slain by the hand of a monster. From there, I found one of the last horrors of the night. The first of our many sins, a fishing village off of a long forgotten coast. The people possessed something the Hunters wanted: the secrets of divinity. So, they destroyed it, butchering and plundering all of the inhabitants, who were kept alive by their own tainted faith and twisted flesh. It is here, in the home of madness itself, where I discovered the secret. The corpse of Kos, desecrated by the same group from Bergenwyrth, which Lady Maria was a part of. She had felt guilt and shame untold after the deed was done, and had thrown her weapon away, before taking her own life."

Charlie's breath shivered. She knew it was going to be bad, but this was way worse. The disappearance of the old Von Eldritch Member was finally solved at least. "And…what happened then?" She was going to regret this.

A shaky sigh escaped through his lips, as he broke down even further. "Kos was pregnant with a child." Flashes of the creature tearing out from the Great One's rotting womb forced his eyes shut. "It was born an orphan, cold, alone, and fearful. Stillborn it was, its newborn body rotted and its features disfigured. It was locked in the same undeath that plagued all creatures of this cursed realm, and was maddened by its very existence. And I…I slew it."

Charlie's eyes widened at this revelation. Von Eldritch pregnancies take a long, looong time to gestate, and it's very rare for the seeds to even sprout in the first place. There's a reason that, even being around for so long, there aren't a lot of them. A Von Eldritch dying, her body defiled by scavengers was one thing. But a baby being born from her dead corpse, shortly before being killed by the man sitting before her!? It was a lot to take in. "I…I didn't know you did that Hunter. I-I just don't know what to say-"

"I know." Regret, guilt. He had once felt that he had done the right thing, but now these feelings festered in his heart. Now that I know that they were more than monsters, I see the truth of my existence. I am the same monster they warned you about." Perhaps Maria was right, in a way. Perhaps she had made the right decision, ending the life of one last monster…

"Don't say that." The hand on his became a vice on his shoulder. He looked up, into Charlie's eyes, blazing with fire. "What you did, although deplorable, was necessary, Hunter. She was dead, and you had to put her child out of its misery. I can't imagine the kind of pain it was going through, and I wouldn't have wanted it to suffer. From what I knew of her, Kos wouldn't either. I know you didn't have a choice, but you did what you had to do."

He looked down and stared at his empty teacup, not sure when everything got so blurry. "Do you really believe you can still trust me? A monster that slaughters all in his path?" His voice was starting to get a bit broken too, maybe he should clear his throat.

Charlie could tell he was reaching his limit. Both of her hands went to his, squeezing them tightly to prevent him from slipping any further. "I do. I know I can, because you are not a monster, you saved all of those people, and I know I can save you too." As the Hunter listened, and tears began their descent, he reflected on the souls he'd freed along the way, or witnessed flicker out, too late to save. Simon, Adeline, Bandor, Maria. Regardless of their past, all of them had suffered, and all of them had to have atoned for their sins.

"I…" The Hunter's voice was raspy, barely able to contain himself as his tears began to soak his mouth cloth. He let go of one of the Princess' hands to wipe the uncontrollable tears that were streaming from his eyes. Since that wasn't working, he decided to look down onto the ground. He cleared his voice. "You're right, Miss Morningstar. I'm sorry for this shameful display."

"Don't apologize for showing how you feel, Hunter." She spoke softly to this hurt person as she got up from her seat and walked to the Hunter as she gave him a much needed hug. She held him against her chest, under the crook of her neck, despite his height. Most Sinners would have had many degenerate thoughts, but the Hunter felt none of these, instead feeling the jagged edges that had chafed him for so long begin to be smoothed out by the cascade of grief leaking from behind his rapidly-dissolving facade. Her heartbeat was a steady and stable drum, beating apart the sorrows and dreads that had built into a dark wall around his heart and mind. "It's ok to cry when you're sad, and it's ok to say when you aren't ok. I'm here for you, and so is everyone else, whether they act like it or not."

The Hunter saw the truth now. He had been abrasive and unrelenting towards the hand that had fed him, yet it had stayed extended nonetheless. He had doubted the thin beam of hope that had shone through the dark and turbulent storm, yet now it was a lighthouse that pierced his very soul. His hope held him close as he shivered from the weight of his actions truly bearing upon him in full. He had killed, he had slaughtered, Oh God he had sinned. But still forgiveness was present, even in the darkest part of Hell. Not in a book of holy words, nor a sermon or temple, but in the eyes and arms of the blood of Hell itself.

The Hunter's iron will begin to shatter like stained glass.

While this continued, the Doll watched the scene after cleaning up. She couldn't help but smile serenely at the sight before him. She'd comforted him during the gestation period, as well as being his sole friend during the past three-hundred years, and it was her responsibility to take care of his well being. But he needed more than just a Doll, he needed more than one person in his life. To think the Princess of Hell was willing to take that task up was a truly joyous sight to see. She thought of Vaggie, and knew that while there was to be confusion and anger, the calm and steady hand of the Princess would help both parties reach an understanding. Although, it would be amusing to witness.

-Scene Change-

MEANWHILE IN HELL…

In an unknown, top secret location in Hell that few of even the most powerful nobles in Hell were allowed knowledge of (top floor of one of the tallest buildings in Pride, with a Beezleburger joint across the hall), seven of the most unique and powerful people were gathered in a meeting room, creating solutions for a unique and dangerous problem. The sound of a clock ticking echoed through the silence as all were in deep thought, an unusual and potentially concerning position for any that knew any of them enough. The pressure and tension was reaching iceberg levels, and the windows were beginning to frost over from the cold minds and calculations of the seated individuals. That was until a particularly hungry hybrid broke the tension. "Are we gonna talk about the signal, or are we just gonna stare at the table!?" She was sick of this! All this waiting and planning, when she could be chasing it to its source!

Sin of Gluttony: Beezlebub

"We are thinking, Bee." The giant rooster-like demon told his friend. "This hasn't happened in a long time, and since none of us were ready for it to start here, we have to make entirely new plans. I don't think I even have the equipment anymore!" At his remark, the female Sheep/Alpaca blinked the glaze from her eyes, before plonking her head on the table as she went back to sleep.

Sin of Lust: Asmodeus

Sin of Sloth: Belphegor

The fat, four armed demonic jester wasn't too keen to his colleague's suggestion, knowing he'd have to foot the bill. Again. "No, not happening! There's no fuckin' way I'm spilling a single cent for this bullshit hunt! Against a fuckin' Eldrtich entity! It's gonna cost me three goddamn fortunes!" He was, as per usual, thinking with his incredibly hefty and padlocked wallet. The kind of things they'd need to handle this sort of problem needed rare materials, were incredibly complicated to make, had to be perfect to the inch, and impossible to mass produce.

That meant it'd have to be custom made by an expensive team of professionals, with exotic and often precious materials he would have to find and pay for, using techniques and tools he'd also have to pay for, and none of this is considering he'd have to do it seven times. There's a reason he hated these assignments, because since he was the richest (and for once that didn't make him feel good) Sin, he was the only one capable of coughing up the dough required.

Sin of Greed: Mammon

…Curse the Fiends…

The dark sky, or at least the dark stone ceiling, was brightened with the pale light reflecting from the equally pale city. Silver it had been named, and silver it was adorned, gilded, and built with. While it had been dull and rusted for decades, things had changed for the strange, oft forgotten city. Blood stained and graffitied walls and cracked pavement turned to hand-carved marble and silver-brick roads. Opium dens and gang holdouts became storefronts and housing. Suspicious figures and pitch black alleyways changed to… well that didn't really change, there's only so much progress one can achieve in Hell. Not all was perfect, but things were better. For the first time in far too long, the city had hope. Most did, anyway. As the night continued, and the fog that had caused many confusing turns began to fall heavily upon the streets, a bird took flight. A hawk, or something that looked like one, glided silently over the city. Dark were its wings and red was its plumage, the reflected lights shining in its beady, intelligent eyes. In the street below, was an odd sight outside of the Renaissance cities or various arenas that dotted Wrath. A genuine horse-drawn carriage. True, the horses were Hellhorses with dark hoods and piercing eyes, and sure, the carriage just so happened to look like a black coffin, and yeah, it was more modern than it likely needed to be, but aside from those things it was close enough to the ones found in museums.

The hawk reached its destination, and began to dive. Its aim was the carriage, and the open roof. As it plunged, it began to change, bones becoming denser and longer, flesh becoming heavier and tougher. When it was fifty feet above the target, wings snapped out one final time, turning to hands gripping the edges of a cloak, killing enough downward momentum to turn a fatal fall into a slight drop. Which it did, directly onto the back seat of the carriage, causing the surprisingly robust suspension to dip slightly, before leveling out again. The hawk, or, the Sinner, finished the change, and the now-woman leaned into the dark plush bench, feeling the last few things setting into place.

"Find anything?" She looked up to the driver, an older Imp adorned in the selfsame style coat she adorned. He, as well as any other of their group, were familiar with the many tools that lined the insides, as well as whatever personal tricks he kept in the deep pockets. Forgoing the tricorne in favor of his favorite newsboy cap, his easy, yet cautious demeanor, as well as the various patches and stitches along his coat, rounded out his character as one of the more experienced Hellborn recruits. However, while he was admittedly skilled in a fight, his talents were behind the reins of a team of horses, leading to his 'promotion' of being her personal driver fifty years ago.

"Nothing. It is likely not as severe as I had feared, which I am grateful for." She had begun this search on a gut feeling that something was wrong, but thus far it was apparent her fears had been misplaced. A pleasant surprise, to be sure, but she wasn't going to call it off just yet. Something just felt off, even if she couldn't see it. The fog had felt… thicker, more heavy when she had traversed through it, and the telltale scent of ozone had her senses convinced a storm was approaching. He was up to something, she was sure of it. However, she was also on the tail end of a three day stake out, and was beginning to hunger for a shower and a meal that wasn't mice or rats. "Take us home, I will continue the search tomorrow."

"Aye aye." With a snap of the reins, they were off.

… Their Children, too …

"We'll get that equipment, no matter the cost. Catching one of those things is top priority, especially considering my daughter is in danger!" Lucifer, King of Hell, Dark Prince of Evil, was a mess, mentally and physically. The bags under his eyes had dipped into suitcases, his once immaculate hair and suit were both wrinkled and messed, and he had lost his hat at some point. He had been this way ever since the signal had been picked up by his coffee pot.

Well, technically, it was potentially the most advanced radio in existence, capable of picking up any energy on every frequency in every layer of reality, as well as a thousand-odd other things. Problem was, he couldn't remember when he got it, who made it, nor where the manual for it was, and it was so complex he couldn't for the life of him remember a tenth of its features, mostly the specific buttons to press to make a decent cup of coffee. One of the lights has been blinking for the past three years, but since he didn't know what it was for, he ignored it for the time being. But one of the few things that had been labeled had activated, and to his horror, it was one of the bells that chimed when Eldritch energy was detected, with each bell signifying each Ring. To his further dread, the ringing bell had been the one that had never rung before: Pride. The closest one of those things had gotten to the surface was a century ago, when one appeared seemingly out of nowhere in Wrath, in what had once been a butcher's shop. No one really cared that the meat was mutated, until the shop started selling it alive. The small town the butcher fed also changed, growing eyes and hair in places eyes and hair should not be. When the Sins were notified, it was too late to save them, all of them long since succumbing to madness or dying horrible deaths. The horrors they found in the back of the shop were burned from history, and the culprit, a single, hairy eyeball, was cast into the hungry pit of Gluttony, and devoured instantly.

That was the easiest one they had ever dealt with, just showing up, balking at the stench, yelling at Bee for trying to eat one of the eyes, yelling at Mammon for robbing the empty bank, punching the possessed butcher in the face, and erasing the building. The fifty pages of paperwork were an afterthought. The average ones can think, the harder ones can move, and the most difficult of all fight back.

But regardless of any of that, one was in his Ring, close to his Charlie. And he couldn't fucking find it!

Sin of Pride, King of Hell: Lucifer Morningstar

'This song and dance again.' Asmodeus should have kept his mouth shut. Two sets of eyes rolled for different reasons. One from amusement, and one out of frustration. This happened every time without fail whenever money was involved. Lucifer couldn't give less of a shit about the budget, while Mammon was the budget, due to his exponentially inflating wealth. Every time someone of substantial greed died, Mammon claimed all assets. So he could afford to pay for anything in existence, but due to his nature, he refused. Lucifer, however, never really hoarded money like the Sin of Greed was known to do. Any and all money he got was spent on his family, or whatever caught his fancy this century. He never seemed to keep a good hand on his coin, but thanks to Lilith, finances were never something he had to worry about. While some would think to hold Lucifer accountable for his spending habits, no one was feeling like telling the King of Hell what he could or couldn't burn his cash on.

However, this led to the unfortunate conclusion of the miser being the budget for events such as these, as well as having to negotiate, threaten, and demand every single coin out of his purse. Leading to this exact scenario, too many times and counting.

Sin of Envy: Leviathan

… And Their Children…

The hand made roads, expert driving, and incredible suspension made for a perfectly smooth ride, as the once-royal stared into her glass, and slowly swirled the red contents within. She hadn't really read which bottle it had come from, and absentmindedly tried to guess based on viscosity alone. Blood? Wine? Something else? She downed it regardless, and anticipated the taste. Nothing. As per usual. When was the last time she had tasted anything? She tried to remember the steak she had eaten her first day in Hell, oh so long ago. It was the first thing she had eaten in days, all too consumed with her own wicked mind pulling itself apart, rejecting what she had become, what she had done. But the smell of cooked beef had brought her back from whatever trance she was under, opening her eyes that this was her life now. When she had torn into it, she could already feel something wasn't right, and it was only by looking into the shards of the mirror in the bathroom she instinctively shattered that the nightmare became reality. Her warped reflection in her glass stared impassively back at her, the hooked beak and dusty feathers marking her as a hawk. She had realized, later, that hawks didn't have teeth, so the razors that fit within her jaws certainly didn't belong, nor did the plumage spackled with red, nor did her hands, nor did her eyes. The eyes, it seems, were the one thing she was allowed to keep. To remind her, whenever she saw herself, in a mirror or a pool of blood, of who the strange figure was. An apt punishment indeed, as she refused to even glance in water for her first three decades here. But now…

Glowing blue chips of ice bore through her, as the dark could hide nothing from her anymore, no matter how hard she tried to avoid it. It was how she had noticed, after all. Even when she was three miles away, she was still able to see, through smoke, fire, and countless bodies, him. It was not him that had created the conflagration, and she had been there merely to ensure the blaze did not spread. But even through the screams of terror, the laughter of the insane, and the sizzling of many bystanders' hotdogs and marshmallows, she could see the cold mist spilling from the alleyway. She could see the way the shadows stretched beyond reason, darkening into an abyss. And she saw when the monster stepped forth, with the stolen blood and belongings of far too many. She had felt very little for the majority of this life, her heart growing stony, and her vision growing gray and lifeless. But when she saw him, pure hate pierced her, filling her eyes with red, demanding she rip his heart from his chest and crush it… She had almost, then and there, taken off, to destroy his rotten soul. But, she had relented, because while he may have been a monster, so was she. She could not truly blame him, when she had committed as many sins as he, regardless of cause.

But, that did not mean she forgave him, nor did she let him go unsupervised. For the past three years, she and her group have been watching him, to ensure that no further 'mistakes' occur. Her main fear was that he still carried the Blood, and could potentially spread the disease across the entirety of Hell. If both Hells combined, then all Hell would break loose, and there would truly be Hell to pay. Hell would freeze over before she allowed that to happen, however. (HH: Yeah I know what I did. Fuck you) But, he had been suspiciously quiet in his new life. His actions had been… confusing, to say the least. He had ascended, yet he did not partake in the hard-fought spoils he had attained. He continued to act as though he was still human, which was somehow amusing. She was closer to being human than he was, yet he was the one still pretending. If she could smile, if she could laugh, she almost would have. Almost.

She turned the glass over, thinking if she should bother filling it again, before a new sense snapped her head to the window. Nothing was moving on the empty street, everyone trying to avoid the…rain…

It never rains here.

The fog was gone, the view was clear, something was wrong. The district had been under a constant shroud of fog and mist ever since the Hunter had claimed it, and now it was raining? He was doing something. The driver was aware of this too. "Works not done yet, looks like." As he looked into the suddenly stormy sky, as the rain poured, and poured, and poured, he couldn't help but notice there was no thunder.

'So you're blubbering huh? Wonder what's making you bawl like a bitch?'

He had guessed a while back that the fog was the closest thing they could get to gauging this guy's current state of mind, with the heavier fog meaning that their quarry was up to some bullshit. Only other thing they had figured out so far was that Thunder meant he was pissed. He personally dreaded the day when lightning started falling from the sky.

… Forever, true…

While the meeting began to devolve into yet another shouting match, the largest demon remained uncharacteristically quiet, deep in his own thoughts. One would think he was just a hulking bruiser with a temper and a law fetish, but there was a lot more happening inside his rather large head, including the ways to hammer this nail. He currently had three. The first was the most common way, as well as the most complex. Theoretically, he could slog through this mess himself, do some dirty work and earn some overtime. Problem was, he was a big dude with a lot of influence. And influence meant witnesses, and witnesses meant stealth, a big part of these operations, was a no-go. After all, it don't matter how many people promise to keep quiet, only one person can keep a secret. If word gets out to Heaven that the Sin of Wrath was personally duking it out against something with too many of everything? They'd ask questions, they'd demand answers, and they'd start looking. Doesn't matter how good they are at hiding bodies, Heaven's army doesn't care about what they have to trash in order to get what they want. This is just the worst case, where at least five people with phones are watching. The best case, is that while no one sees him, no one finds him, and the jobs done in an hour, he's gonna have to document every second of that hour, go through fifteen decontamination sequences, have seventeen witnesses for an alibi, and somehow do all of this while he's following the law to the letter.

That law being: "If you see any Eldritch influence in Hell, immediately report it to Heaven."

Key word: see

If he just so happens to never see what he's thrashing, if he doesn't see what the mutilated corpse looks like, if he nevers sees the important bits on the paperwork, then he's off the hook. Doing all of the above, while also having to very carefully pay attention to not paying attention, is incredibly migraine inducing.

The worst option was asking Heaven for help. Not only was it sandpaper against his pride, not only was it practically useless in the end result, but every time they sent a Saint, and it was always with a squad of Exorcists to 'assist' their superior, when in reality they were free to do whatever they wanted in Hell. Killing, stealing, raping, nothing was beneath them. And when they left, it was always with the promise that they'd be back. That was the absolute last resort, and he's only had to do it once. Never again.

The last option was much more favorable, yet a bit more law-bending. One of the contacts he had picked up a while back was good for exactly one purpose: silencing every bit of Unknown danger to Hell's General Public. Their effectiveness was beaten by none, only being edged out by his more useful contacts' time and cost. But, he always kept them close, in case something like this happened, and he would be able to wipe his hands of it. This was their specialty, after all. Maybe he'll be lucky, and they're already on it. He'd be too lucky if that were the case, though a devil can dream.

He made his choice. Hiring them would give himself room to breathe, plus a whopping zero pages of paperwork. To get the attention of the already loud and chaotic room, he did the one thing that made sense: yelling over everyone else.

"ORDER!"

After their ears stopped ringing, and Lucifer was pried down from the ceiling like the cat he was, the other Six Sins faced him. Asmodeus and Beezlebub, knowing his track record with ideas, felt skeptical of what he was going to suggest, thinking it would be something along the lines of "fight the thing with our bare hands". "What do you have to suggest Satan?"

Sin of Wrath: Satan

"I have contacts that do some of my dirty work for me, as I'm sure all of you do as well." All of them nodded their heads, then glanced at each other, wondering just how much each person seated actually did. Lucifer was the only one who hadn't, seeing as he wasn't a lazy bum. Belphegor also hadn't but that's because she was a lazy bum. "Mine are simple: catch, kill, erase. Three separate types of contacts, three separate types of jobs. I also need them to be efficient, well armed, and stealthy. Of all my contacts, I have not enough of the first, too many of the second, and exactly three of the third" Satan had risen from his seat, and was walking to the window to face the city below. "Only one of all of them fits the criteria we need. However, essentially sourcing mercenaries is, unfortunately, illegal for us." "Well, why waste our time then?" Bee was already tired of this. Was his plan to talk them asleep, so he could sneak out and fight it himself again? That trick wouldn't work a sixt-no, seventh time.

"Because there is a way of doing so, that makes it harder to prove that I made the order. It's a very unique, very secret, and very ancient method."

Tensions were rising again, the devil's shadow was looming over the entire table, the other Sins starting to worry about this 'method'.

"...And that method is?" Lucifer was curious, what was this technique that made the impossible happen?

"Plausible deniability."

…

"Huh?" "What the fuck do you mean pl-"

"All that buildup for this sh-"

"Oh come the fuck o-"

"Really? That's it? I tho-"

"ZZZzzzZZZ"

"If I told you all to, for no particular reason, face the wall, plug your ears, and start making random noises, could you hear or see me make a -hypothetical- phone call?"

…

'Damn that devil' Bee and the others were facing away from the window, towards the wall, with whatever counted as hands being shoved into whatever counted as ears, as the longest phone call in existence went on directly behind her. She was just yelling whatever insults came to mind, along with Mammon and Leviathan. The others were at least pretending to talk, Lucifer and Asmodeus somehow having a conversation via reading each other's nonexistent lips, while Belphegor had passed out a while back, and was probably never a security concern for the, again, longest phone call in her fucking life.

Behind the clamor, Satan used another neat trick of plugging one ear and connecting an earbud to the other, so that no one could actually hear the other end of his conversation, and with the racket going on behind him, no one could hear his side. So, he was free to begin.

…

…

*Brrrrring*

…

*Brrrrring*

*Chk-a*

…

…

"Fear the Old Blood"

"And drown not in its sorrows"

…

"I believe a package of ours got mixed up, and it ended up on the prideful chap's front door, but he's lost it since"

"That's unfortunate to hear, can you give us some information so that we can track down and retrieve your package?"

"It's a rather large one, but I'm not sure what's in it. I just found out about it, from the man in the chair."

"Is there anything else that might help us, including the return address and stamp?"

"The return address should be Nevermore lane, and the stamp is a red truck."

"I believe I can locate your package, and I can have it delivered by Monday."

"If need be, I can wait until Wednesday. I just wanna make sure my wife doesn't find out, it's a surprise for her."

…

The rain was beginning to peter out, but she would not forget it for a while. If she was correct, and this was because of him…

"On closer review, your package can be shipped to you as early as Sunday. It looks like we've already sent someone to retrieve it."

"Thanks, and I- ah to hell with this cloak and dagger stuff. This line is as secure as it's ever gonna get. You're already after this one?"

The roads were soaked, but the fog hadn't returned yet, and she could see match her own gaze once again.

"Yes, and we have been for a while."

"How much do you know?"

"Enough."

"Good. Remember what I told you though: Whatever it is, it's in Pride, not sure where or what, but I want it gone, yesterday, before one of our neighbors gets wise."

"No need to worry, Sir." The reflection's eyes pierced deeper into her soul.

"We've already begun the Hunt."

Man, what a 'WHAM' way to end this story considering it's nearly new years day. And it looks like the Hunter had attracted more attention than he had hoped for. And not in a good way. GODAMNIT I.M.P! If you haven't been ambushing him for the past three years, he wouldn't have done that deal that gained attention from both Sins and Exorcists! Though, that is too late now and the Hunter would have to deal with this problem he caused. Alone.

I have a bad feeling about where this is heading next year. Though I can confirm that the Hunter won't be captured. I never planned to have him be put in that position.

Anyway, now that is out of the way, here are our notes.

Crimson Soldat: Since Bloodborne will be in its Ten Year Anniversary, you'll be seeing more chapters published. And also, I really need to upload more of the other stories like Dark Souls: Embers of Remnant and Caboose's Guide to make Friends in Hell. And no, HalfWitHilibily won't be helping with those two stories. I am capable of handling them.

HalfWitHillbilly: Ha! Y'all are gonna have to get your prescriptions somewhere else, because I'm out of Opium and black market fireworks to sell. Also I'm recovering from eating like a pig and then vomiting like a drunk. I'll be fine, maybe.

CS: Hunter's in deep shit. First is the Exorcists (led by both Adam and Lute). NOW it's Hell and their mercenaries. Oh man, he is fucked! Anyway, NEXT chapter will be a treat, since it is now focusing back on I.M.P. Just wait and see what we have for them, it'll blow your mind! (Well, someone's mind gets blown at least). Maybe they'll find out they bit off a teensy weensy little too much than they can handle.

HH: Eh, they'll be (not) fine, but who cares, they're just humans. Hey someone's knocking on my door one sec I'll be back.

Comment down below what you want to see in future chapters! 

With that said, we'll see you in the next–

*muffled violence, followed by a thud, and the unmistakable sound of the editor's lifeless body being kicked into a corner*

?: Hello there!

CS: SIGH* Oh for the…CABOOSE! Why have you decided to invade this story?! You have one with the Helluvaverse, asshole!

?: Ooh, I can change this!

Lord Caboose, King of Friendship and Master of All Rainbows: Hi funny people! I'm in charge now!

CS: No, you're not!

Caboose: Why not?

CS: Do I have to repeat myself?

Caboose: Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmm, no…

CS: I'll take that as a no. And also, you have your own story to deal with.

Caboose: But-

CS: NOT buts, Caboose! Just focus on your own story for damn sake! Because unlike this story, you aren't on the same level as the Hunter! In fact, you're far more dangerous than him by far!

Caboose: Wait, you mean that tentacle hempai disguised as a human?

CS: YES, and It's HENTAI, you idiot! Don't get me started about those tentacle jokes! Unlike him, you're just a regular human, Caboose, that somehow did things the Hunter was able to hold back! I am still recollecting on how you did anything off-putting in your story.

Caboose: NEAT!

CS: NO, IT'S NOT NEAT, CABOOSE!

Caboose: Hm. Alright. I have to ask; are you gonna put me in this story?

CS: How about this? I'll give you $100 for Stellar Jades in exchange for NOT appearing in this story. I have plans for your story after all.

Caboose: *GASP* REALLY!? Oh, that is so Awesome! Thanks Mr author! Just let me grab my laptop and then you put in your bank details! *PROCEEDS TO LEAVE*

CS: C'mon, let's end this before he comes back and disrupts me. It's better to do it right before he comes back! He has his own story to tell! And from what I experienced, he's more unpredictable than the Hunter himself. But first, lemme revive HH first…

See you next year around, folks!