A Helluva Hospital

by Cheycartoongirl8

Summary:

Hawkeye always knew he had problems, but he always thought he was a good enough guy to get in Heaven.

But he's in Hell instead. Yet despite that, he still attempts to help the other demons in the only way he knows how.

By opening his own hospital/bar.

Life is never dull when you got stubborn celebrities, image-conscious Overlords and over-dramatic Goetias to tend to on the daily.

Notes:

• For grievousrommel.

For Grievousrommel

I hope you like it!

A Helluva Hospital

Death.

It’s inevitable.

No matter how many times someone tries to prevent it, it always comes for you in the end. So it didn’t come to surprise to the retired military medic, Hawkeye Pierce when he died. What did surprise him was when he arrived in Hell. Sure he was no saint, but he always figured he’d end up in Heaven. He considered himself a good enough guy.

Though Hell… wasn’t quite like he imagined it.

It wasn’t all fire and brimstone like how the preachers at church taught. There were no massive pits of fire and brimstone where tortured souls wailed and pleaded to escape from. Instead it was…. Very much similar to Earth. With towns and cities, oceans and forests it was…. Nothing like they believed when they were alive.

If anything…

It was just like being up on Earth all over again.

Finding a place to live, finding a job, just… surviving.

It was strange. 

Not to mention that with each human that arrived in Hell, they each got their own unique new body that would either reflect how they died, their family, and their family lifestyle. He took the form of a Caladrius. A mythical bird with white feathers that went around healing others. It was a bit symbolic. Due to his long professional life of being a surgeon.

Finding a job as a surgeon was… pretty easy actually. 

There wasn't exactly much of a background check system when it came to folks like himself. Sinners, they were called. While the demons that were born in hell were called Hellborns. A bit on the nose, but he couldn’t deny that it was helpful. 

But the longer he worked at the hospital the more he saw the… questionable practices his fellow demons did. High prices, shoddy work, the lack of care….

He didn’t want to work in a hospital so corrupted.

So after several years, he managed to make enough money to open his own hospital. It was a lot of work. He worked on hiring the most trusted doctors, nurses, janitorial, and all the other employees that were needed to run a functioning hospital.

Though there was one thing that his had that no other hospital did.

A bar.

Granted, it was on the other side of the hospital. In its own separate building that was held by a jointed door and wall. 

Was it the most glamorous of jobs? 

Not really. 

But he knew he was doing good work. Even if he had a drinking habit…

But then again, no one really cared about that. What he did care was when the Extermination Day hit. It was… horrifying to learn how the Angels treated them. How for one day of the year, they’d come down to slaughter every Sinner in sight.

Not the Hellborns though.

They were exempt from the destruction.

But that still didn’t mean they were caught in the crossfire. Holy weapons resulted in holy poisoning. He had gotten into a routine of calling Belphegor to order anti-holy creams and the like in order to save innocent lives weeks before the day hit.

It… It reminded him so much of the war.

With his old friends.

B.J., Margret, Radar, Klinger, Winchester, Trapper…

He sometimes wondered if they were down here too. Or were they up in Heaven? His mind went to Henry Blake. When his helicopter was shot down. Fuck… he hadn’t thought about Henry in years…

Was Henry down here?

He hoped not.

He didn’t wish for any of his friends to be in this hellhole.

How he wishes he could speak to them again….

“Dr. Hawkeye?”

He peered up to see a nurse walking in.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Fizzarolli is here for his physical therapy.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Fizzarolli… a famous clown imp who suffered during a fire that happened on his birthday. He remembered trying to escape, only to run into a box of fireworks that went off in his face. The poor man… All four of his limbs had to be amputated off. It was before his death, but he still couldn’t help but feel bad for the fellow.

He’s recently required some new prosthetic limbs.

Thanks to the Deadly Sin, Asmodeus. He’s been paying top dollar for them to help him adjust with them monitoring. They were the closest hospital compared to them driving all the way down to Sloth.

He made his way towards the physical therapy wing. He liked to check in on all the departments while he made his rounds. He was the CEO of the hospital after all. Sometimes he’ll even join in on surgeries if they were understaffed or there was a very delicate one that needed to be done.

After greeting and speaking with some of the patients, he finally made his way to Fizzarolli. The clown imp was trying to stand up using a walker. He gave a kind smile at the disabled imp.

“Hello Mr. Fizzarolli. How are you doing today?”

The Hellborn looked up at him.

“Hello Mr. Pierce. I’m doing… well… the best I can be. …I think.”

He nodded in understanding. He turned his attention to the other demon that was with him. King Asmodeus. The Deadly Sin of Lust. The avian sinner gave a polite small bow at him.

“King Asmodeus. It’s a pleasure to have you in our presence.”

The Lust sin gave him a polite nod.

“Doctor.” He gestured to the new shiny prosthetics that have now replaced the old plastic and metal ones that Fizzarolli was using during his last visit. “I’ve recently been experimenting in making some prosthetics for Fizz. I’ve been using this titanium reinforced aluminum metal for a more durable prosthetic. I’ve even worked to where it can extend to forty feet.”

The former war surgeon blinked in surprise.

“Really?”

Asmodeus nodded.

“Oh yes. I like to dabble in mechanics and such. I’ve even installed basic sensory pads to give him a form of touch like on the knuckles of the fingers.”

“Fascinating. I would love to know more about the process behind the development. I believe your groundbreaking technological advancement it’ll help thousands of amputees in the future.”

The Deadly Sin gave a smile.

“Oh it’s not an issue at all! I’ll give you a call when my schedule is cleared for a meeting.”

“I look forward to it.” He turned to his patient. “Alright Mr. Fizzarolli. Your therapy session is simple. I just want you to walk five feet and back. Given with your new limbs, any progress you can make would be a great achievement!” 

The imp glanced across the room.

Just a few steps. He can do this. What’s so hard about taking a couple of steps? He took a shaky breath, nodding.

“You got this Froggy!”

Fizz felt his face heat up at the sound of his… friend? Co-Boss? Whatever Asmodeus was to him. He was glad he was there for him. He grit his jaw in determination. He moved his left leg. It started to lift. He felt the prosthetic moved.

So far so good.

Now the other leg.

Inch by inch he started to make progress. He reached the mark. Now to turn himself around… That’s when he felt his body start to buckle. He yelped, gripping the walker to keep himself up. Asmodeus instantly stood up from his chair, ready to aid him.

“Fizz??”

He forced a smile.

“I-I’m okay! I…I can finish!”

Hawkeye frowned.

“Just do what you can. There’s no need to push yourself past your limit.”

“D-don’t worry about me doc! I..I got this!”

Both bird-like demons shared a concerned look. That… did the opposite of curbing their concern. The former human wrote down something on his clipboard.

Mr. Fizzarolli seems to have people-pleasing tendencies. Often at the expense of his own personal well-being. Recommending therapy for trauma.

He gave them a polite smile.

“Keep up the good work, Mr. Fizzarolli. I’ll be back around before you two leave.” As he walked out, he leaned over to the nurse overseeing the famous jester’s physical therapy. “Be sure that he doesn’t overexert himself. It appears Mr. Fizzarolli is quite the people-pleaser and will do whatever he can to earn that praise by forgoing his health.”

The nurse nodded in understanding.

“I’ll be sure he takes it nice and easy.”

“Thank you.”

He continued on with his rounds. Okay let’s see who was next..?

He let out a groan.

Overlord Valentino and Overlord Vox..

What did his notes say…?

‘Overlord Valentino came in with Overlord Vox over some concerns of another sex-related incident. Overlord Vox’s cables have been inserted into Overlord Valentino’s anus and seem unable to be removed.

Fucking dammit.

Honestly, with how much those two were in here with sex-related injuries, they should be featured on the show “Sex Sent Me To The ER.”

He forced a smile as he made his way to the hospital room that they were in. He spotted the two men. Valentino naturally laying on the gurney with Vox standing close by. He could obviously see the cables connecting them.

“Hello Overlord Vox and Valentino. I can see you two are here for another sex-related injury?”

The Media Overlord coughed awkwardly.

“Y-yes. Unfortunately we got a little too… frisky with my cables.”

“GET THESE FUCKING THINGS OUTTA ME THIS INSTANT!!!” The moth demanded. “NOW BEFORE I BURN THIS WHOLE PLACE-!!”

Vox slapped his hand over his.. business partner? Boyfriend? Honestly Hawkeye didn’t really know what to describe their relationship. But anyway, he covered his mouth to keep him from screaming threats. He gave him an apologetic smile.

“Apologies. The situation is… very uncomfortable for him. Us. As you can see.”

“So I see. I’ll get you two into surgery to remove the cables as soon as possible. Next time maybe not send the cables up so far.” 

“Yes, yes, of course.” Vox paused, giving him a careful look. “Just to be clear, this-”

“Doctor-Patient confidentiality, Overlord Vox. Same as it’s always been. If the reporters come snooping about, you know my staff won’t say a word.”

He flashed a smile at him.

“Excellent! Glad that we’re still have an understanding on that.”

“Will you two stop flapping your gums and get these damn cables outta me!?” Valentino snapped. “¡Vox, te juro que si no me sacas estos malditos cables del culo en diez minutos, te estrangularé con ellos! ¡Y no tendrás sexo conmigo en un mes!” 

 

The TV demon chuckled.

“Don’t worry Val. It won’t be long now.”

Seeing as that was his cue, the avian sinner went to go set the surgery up.

“I’ll check in on you two in a bit.” He walked out of the room, the moth still swearing at Vox in Spanish. “Fuck, I’m glad I’m not Vox. I don’t know how he puts up with him…”

He needed a damn drink after this.

He went to his other patients. He stopped by another room. Angry shrieking was heard from the inside. The unmistakable sound of bird noises from the room. He glanced a clipboard, then let out a sigh.

A Goetia…

Many of them were so rude and entitled. Well he wasn’t going to put up with it.

He forced a smile as he entered the room. The three people looked up as he entered. Marquis Andrealphus, the nurse and a very lanky imp with a thin mustache.

“Hello everyone, I’m Dr. Pierce, what seems to be the issue?”

The nurse looked over at her clipboard.

“Marquis Andrealphus has arrived here with a broken leg. X-Rays shows it’s a clean break. So he’ll def have to be in a cast for a few weeks. Maybe a few months.”

“A few months!?” The ice peacock gasped. “I have royal duties to attend! I can’t be in a cast for months!!”

Are the Goetias always so overdramatic? He hummed.

“Let’s not focus on that right now. Can you tell me how this happened?”

“Well-” The imp started but the Goetia glared at him.

“You keep your mouth shut, imp.”

The cold tone caught the white avian’s attention. His eyes turned sharply onto the royal Hellborn. He cleared his throat.

“Your highness. I know things maybe different in the outside world, but in my building, everyone in treated equally.”

A glare was shot in his direction. But he didn’t care. He always hated racists and classes people could act. As if they all weren’t sharing the same damn universe. He turned his attention back to the now anxious-looking imp.

“Please continue.”

“I say, I say, he accidentally tripped on my Wally Wackford Instant Tripping Stone placer!”

“Why would you build such a stupid contraption in the first place!?” Andrealphus snapped at him. “I could’ve died!”

“Because people like petty revenge!” He paused. “Plus Vox-Tech has been pushing for home security lately and some cheap-ass suckers will get what they can get.”

The peacock threw his hands up in the air. Un-fucking-believable! Just his damn luck! How the fuck was he going to explain this to his staff and other members of his family? He couldn’t tell them the truth!

Not about how he was having relations with the lower plebs!

His reputation would be tarnished!

“Anyways,” Hawkeye continued. “We’ll get your bone realigned and wrapped it up. Just stay off your leg for the next few months and you should be alright. We’ll give you some crutches-”

“No. I want a wheelchair. I am not subjecting myself to crutches.”

The white bird Sinner did his best to suppress a sigh. Why do most Goetias have to be damn dramatic?

“Very well. But just know that after a month or so, you would be given a boot. I will suggest that you do use the crutches when your leg is more healed up so it can help you get back into walking and strengthen your leg.”

“Yes, yes, can we hurry this up? I have royal duties to fulfill!”

“Of course. I’ll inform the other doctor that you’re ready for your leg to be set and your cast to be applied. You have a good day, Marquis Andrealphus.”

Once alerting a different doctor to look over the injured peacock, Hawkeye decided it would be best to end his day with that. He was already feeling tired to the bone. Once ensuring that everyone could handle their duties without him around, he clocked out, making his way to the bar that was connected to the hotel.

He shrugged off his coat, practically flopping onto the chair at the countertop. The bartender, a Hellhound, hummed at him, instantly sliding a margarita over to him.

“Tough work day?”

He took a sip.

“Thanks Jet. You could say that.”

“How tough?”

“Ending with a bitchy Goetia.”

“Ooof. Yeah, they always know how to sour the mood with their pompous attitudes.”

“He was rude as hell to an imp that was helping him out. I don’t why the fuck they feel like they have a right to treat those that are lesser than them like shit when they literally wouldn’t be able to do shit without them.”

“It’s because they’re elitist snobs. Trust me, Hawk. I was born and raised here. They’ve always been like that. Think because they were born rich and with magic that they think they’re better than everyone else. They’re not.”

The medical bird nodded in agreement then raised his glass.

“I’ll drink to that.”

As he was drinking, a winged-cat demon stumbled into the bar. He looked haunted. His suit disheveled. His eyes hallowed. He looked as if he had witnessed something horrible. He made his way over to the counter top, flopping onto a stool two seats over. His wings flapped unceramoniously as he hunched over the counter.

“Give me….” He swallowed. “Give me the hardest liquor ya got.”

The bartender turned his back towards them, grabbing said alcohol and pouring him a glass.

“You okay, kitty?”

The cat groaned, burying his head under one of his arms. As the hound was about to pull the bottle away, the newcomer motioned for him to leave it.

“I lost everything…. I played a dangerous game and I lost everything…”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Need ta talk about it?”

The feline downed his drink, then proceeded to pour himself another glass.

“I gambled against someone I shouldn’t have and now I lost everything…. Fuck me.”

Jet and Hawkeye shared a look. Unsure how to comfort the forlorn feline.

“I’m… sorry to hear that, friend.” The bird Sinner tried to console. “But surely that only means you can only go up from here, right?”

That seemed to have the opposite effect as his face slammed into the counter. Guess not….

Deciding to ease the cat’s woes, Hawkeye decided he’d pay for his drink. He knows what it’s like to be at rock bottom. Maybe a little kindness would be willing to help him out. He knows what it’s like to lose himself at the bottom of the bottle.

“Well… I hope it gets better for you friend. What’s your name?”

The cat sluggishly blinked at him.

“Husk…. You?”

“Hawkeye Pierce. I own the hosptial and the bar.”

“Damn. Good for you.”

“Well Husk, I know it looks bleak for you now, but I’m sure as time goes on, it’s gonna get better. Just you wait. I’m sure your luck will eventually turn.”

Husk took another swig of his drink.

“I doubt it…. but thanks.”

He gave him a small smile.

They drank in silence. A comfortable atmosphere settling between them. One of mutual understanding.

He knew Hell wasn’t a kind place. But if he could make one person’s day brighter and do what he can to help those in need, he’ll keep doing it no matter what. He didn’t know why he ended up in Hell, but by God, he was going to do what he could to make it just a little better for others.

Just a little bit.

And just maybe…

The Afterlife wouldn’t be so bad after all.