Chapter Text
The aggressive red light of a non-sun and the golden glow of Heaven far above shone down on Pentagram City at the center of the Pride Ring. People bustled in the streets, working, killing, doing drugs, chatting, and generally going about their hellish lives. Above all their heads and in many store windows, TVs displayed 666 News, and people couldn’t help but stare, hypnotized by the screens. Perhaps literally.
“This is Katie Killjoy,” said Katie, grinning widely.
“And I’m Tom Trench,” said Tom.
Behind them, a diagram of the Hazbin Hotel with crudely drawn images of Charlie, (Y/N), Alastor, and the other Hazbin Hotel residents sat on the wall. They were all murdering exorcists in the image.
“Bringing you the latest in Hell’s hottest news,” said Katie. “Tonight’s top story: What the fuck is going on at the Hazbin Hotel?”
“That’s right, Katie,” agreed Katie. “It’s been a while since Heaven attacked Hell and Charlie Morningstar and the Hazbin Hotel brutally slaughtered the invading angels and kinda-sorta saved us from the extermination.”
“When you’re done sucking toes, Tom—” Katie kicked him to the side “—I’d like to remind you that Heaven still hasn’t made their next move. Are they coming back for revenge or is this yearly nightmare finally over?”
Tom sat up, grimacing. “Morningstar has declined to come on the show to comment, as has the Nature Demon, the one who ended the Adam’s life.” He coughed. “Pussies.”
“But we will keep asking until we break them,” said Katie, grinning madly. “Because the world needs to know, Tom. Will the Hazbin Hotel stop at angels? Will the Nature Demon stop killing?” She looked into the camera and addressed the Hell-wide audience. “Are you their next victim? Is your dog or cat next? Will their bloodlust ever be satisfied? Who’s at the top of the Nature Demon’s hitlist? Do we have an up-and-coming Overlord on our hands?!” Her neck jerked to the side at the idea, and she cleared her throat abruptly. “This segment is brought to you by—”
“Voxtek!” said Katie and Tom together. “ ‘Trust us with your everything!’ ”
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The Nature Demon in question was in fact adding many people to their hitlist. Metaphorically at the minimum. There were way too many people swarming the newly reopened Hazbin Hotel, and all of them were trying to snap pictures of (Y/N) or get close to (Y/N) or speak to (Y/N) or, in general, were annoying (Y/N). They stepped back as the line extended out the door to get a room from Vaggie. From the balcony, they narrowed their eyes at the endless throng.
“I can’t wait to kill some angels,” said a guest eagerly.
“I want to see that gold blood run,” said another guest.
“I lost my fucking room key.”
“Oh my god, look, it’s the fallen angel!”
“Is that Lucifer in hair rollers? The king himself? He’s hot.”
“I wonder where the Nature Demon is!”
The lovely flowers blossoming throughout the hotel lobby sprouted thorns. (Y/N)’s fingers drummed against their leg. No one was entering the hotel for the right reasons. Charlie’s going to be disappointed.
“Hello and welcome to the Hazbin Hotel,” said Vaggie, greeting another new resident. “My names, uh, changing…” She grimaced. “For now, call me Vaggie. Have a lovely day. Here’s your key, thank you so much for staying with us. This is like being in the army.”
Well, until she decides, Vaggie it is, thought (Y/N). Vaggie had said she didn’t mind the nickname still, so that was good. (Y/N) respected choosing a new name, but without an option, they had to stick to what they knew. Besides, they had chosen their own name when they entered Hell.
The name that no one had given them. The name they had found. The name that fit better than what they had been told to be. The name they had held close to their heart and never dared to speak aloud.
(Y/N) blinked, and the roses in their hair multiplied. There was no time for reminiscing, especially not over life. All the things that happened—
No. (Y/N) refused to think about that. They smoothed down their clothes to keep their fingers from betraying their inner thoughts that kept trying to bubble up. They wore a new outfit Rosie had insisted they get (one outfit from her and Alastor’s tailor wasn’t enough. Rosie had brought them back for an entire wardrobe). It was a simple, black dress that went over a black skirt and mary janes. The dress had a slightly sweater-like quality, making it very comfortable, and it sat over a collared scarlet shirt with small black patterns sewn in like tiny roses.
It was put-together and comfortable, a good combination (especially since Rosie insisted that (Y/N) should always look sharp since they were “too powerful to be sloppy.”). She did, however, always make sure (Y/N) felt comfortable. They were fine with dressing feminine—enjoyed it, even, now that their name and pronouns felt right on their skin—but Rosie checked in on every piece they tried to ensure they weren’t feeling dysphoric.
(Y/N) looked good and felt good. They would face the day with at least the façade of calm, the crowd of sinners be damned (more damned).
“I know you’re here, Alastor,” said Vaggie. “Could you help out, please?” It was supposed to be his job, after all.
Alastor appeared out of the shadows. “Mm, this seems like a you problem, Vagene.”
Vaggie’s eye twitched at the name. “And yours! What happened to the whole ‘host of the hotel’ thing?”
Alastor didn’t reply and melted into shadows once more.
“I know we had a ton of rooms, but this is still a lot of people,” said (Y/N), walking downstairs but keeping carefully to the side, blending with some of their plants.
“Maybe I should have gotten ready before coming to breakfast,” said Lucifer, standing in a robe and hair rollers.
“Where’s Charlie?! Where is Charlie Morningstar?!” Reporters pushed to the front of the line to shove microphones and cameras in Vaggie’s face.
“Is it true she drinks angel blood to improve her ‘gay powers?’ ” questioned a reporter.
“Is she off killing more angels? The public has a right to know!” said another.
Alastor appeared beside Lucifer and (Y/N). He chuckled at Lucifer’s appearance, and Lucifer lunged. Alastor held him down by the head, and Lucifer threw a rubber duck at him. Alastor glared, and Lucifer glared back.
(Y/N) ignored them, watching Vaggie intently. Beside them, someone tried to sneak up and get a photograph. A vine sprang from the bush next to them and tried to whip the sinner’s hand with thorny barbs. The sinner squawked. The sound got Alastor’s attention, and he turned from Lucifer, still throwing ducks at him, and loomed over (Y/N)’s shoulder. His neck jerked to the side, and the sinner paled. He hurried away before the Radio Demon did anything else. Alastor grinned in satisfaction.
“Is it true this hotel is recruiting a hellish army?” said a third. “And should I divorce my wife?”
“Um, no. What?” said Vaggie, staring at all the reporters.
Over at the bar, Husk was also growing exasperated. “I have three Torments and Tonics, four Virgin Sacrifice Pina Coladas, and something called a Harder Daddy?” He deadpanned.
“Oh, that one’s for me,” said Angel Dust, leaning on the bar and grinning. He plucked it from the tray. Fat Nuggets munched on breakfast next to him. “My favorite drink and life motto.” Angel Dust downed the drink and grinned. “That’s a hard daddy.”
“Angel, how about you help me serve these drinks instead of letting your pig gobble my nuts?” said Husk.
Angel Dust gasped. “Husk, don’t say it like that! He’s little.” He covered poor Fat Nugget’s ears. “Besides, I am working. I’m celebrity endorsing the hotel.” He cleared his throat and grinned at the crowds. “Who wants to come stay—” he trailed a hand up his legs “—at the Hazbin Hotel with me?”
People cheered wildly.
Again, for all the wrong reasons, thought (Y/N), trying to weave through the crowd to the kitchen.
“It’s the Nature Demon!” gasped a sinner, and eyes turned on them.
(Y/N)’s flowers wilted slightly at the amount of eyes on them, but they didn’t dare show it otherwise. The reporters whirled, cameras raised, and (Y/N) bristled at the Voxtek logos on them all.
“What do you know about the hellish army in this hotel?”
“Are you recruiting?”
“Describe in detail the murder of Adam himself!”
“Are you trying to become an Overlord?”
“How many more people are you going to kill?”
“I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again,” said (Y/N). “My only comment is ‘I hate cameras.’ ” They glared defiantly at everyone. “So aim the cameras down or I smash them.”
The reporters obeyed. Vox would tear them to pieces if they wasted his machinery. Alastor tutted. He had wanted a chance to destroy some of Vox’s equipment.
“I’m getting Charlie,” said Vaggie. This was getting out of hand, and Charlie was in charge. She had to make an appearance to handle this. “Anyone seen her?”
“I think I saw her in the lounge,” said Angel Dust. “She’s been keeping Pentious’s little egg company.”
“Thanks,” said Vaggie.
“Uh, when you see her, can you ask if she’s still up for the therapy session today?” asked Angel Dust. He patted Fat Nuggets on the head and smiled shyly. “I’m kinda getting into talking about feelings and junk.”
Vaggie smiled and nodded. She headed into the lounge, and (Y/N) was glad when she returned with Charlie, who looked exhausted but cleared her throat and put on a show of confidence. (Y/N) sidestepped another attempt at a picture with them, and Alastor’s face glitched the camera, which disappointed the sinner.
Charlie stared at the crowd. “Sweet baby demon spawn,” she gasped. “There are a lot of sinners here!” Her face brightened.
“Oh, there she is!” realized the reporters, rushing back towards Charlie.
(Y/N) relaxed slightly as the attention shifted. Then an overly-brave sinner reached for a flower on their head.
“Are those real—”
A vine of thorns shot up, wrapped around the man’s wrist, and pierced his skin. He shouted, and (Y/N) glared.
“Yes,” they said as he fled. Their flowers bristled. Why some men thought they could touch without permission—!
“Come here. Over here, Charlie, here!” said the reporters.
“Charlie, are we at war with Heaven?” questioned one.
“Charlie, how many angels did you kill personally? Do they scream?”
“Hey, Charlie, how do angels scream when they die? Is it like—” The strange reporter made a bird-like screech. “And should I kill my wife?”
Charlie now realized why Vaggie had brought her out, but she also wasn’t sure how to deal with such questions. Fortunately, although Vaggie couldn’t ask the questions, she was a protective girlfriend.
“Okay, people, back it up, back it up!” She shoved the reporters back to give Charlie room to breathe.
Behind Charlie, someone cleared their throat. She jumped and turned around to find a lantern-fish like demon, short and wearing a lab coat.
“Oh! Hello there!” One on one. Charlie could do this, she could meet her new guests! “I’m Charlie. Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! And what is your name?”
“My name is Baxter,” said the demon, grinning.
“Ooh, Baxter. That’s a fun name,” said Charlie. “Are you checking in with us?”
“I intend to, yes,” said Baxter.
“Oh, that’s great!” said Charlie. “And look at your little lab coat! It’s very cute. Are you an inventor?!”
“Don’t belittle me, woman,” scoffed Baxter. “I’m not an inventor; I’m a scientist. There’s a difference. Some could classify me as a mad scientist.”
Oh, fantastic, more weird guests, thought (Y/N).
“Hey, everyone!” declared Charlie, eyes sparkling as she realized they had someone like Pentious again (she was not coping with his death well). “Meet Pentious!”
“Baxter,” said Baxter.
“Right, Baxter!” said Charlie awkwardly. “And you’re here to be redeemed, Pen—Baxter.”
“I am here to study this fascinating concept of redemption,” said Baxter, and the reporters started scribbling. “My hypothesis is that it’s impossible.”
Charlie laughed awkwardly. “Okay, well…” She cleared her throat.
“She’s about to start singing, isn’t she?” realized (Y/N).
“Oh, yeah,” said Angel Dust.
Husk let out a long sigh and poured a drink.