Chapter Text
“VOX- for goddamn sake stop your temper tantrum–”
Vox?
Who?
“Your messing up my lights and not helping me get my work done”
I aint doing shit lady
“Uh, babydoll, I think Voxxy is glitching the fuck out.”
“Oh shet, bitch, get his doctor or something.”
“Does a doctor help with his biology, or—”
“Oh for fuck’s sake. Technicians. I’ll get them. We’re basically back in the dark ages until Vox here gets fixed.”
Wait a minute, are they talking about me?
Vincent opened his eyes that frankly did not seem to function normally and as his vision slowly fizzled back and forth. He realized one thing.
Actually, a lot of things.
First, his field of vision was way too wide.
Second, his head was a goddamn monitor.
And third, there were two things standing in front of him. One looked like a Monster High doll brought to life, all fashion and attitude. The other was a lanky Slenderman-looking fucker wearing sunglasses indoors and sporting more arms than strictly necessary.
“Oh finally, you’re back,” the doll said. “Vee, you should really learn to manage your anger and shet.” She looked at him expectantly. And damn, looking closer, this girl could dress.
Though there is this nagging in the back of his head that aches familiarity.
“Uh… hell to Vox?”
Vincent opened his mouth to say something else—anything but suddenly electricity crackled through him, his vision glitching.
What the fuck was that?
“Motherfuck— bitch, if you want us gone just say it,” the girl snapped. “Ugh, c’mon Val.”
And just like that, they left. One storming off in a huff, the other pausing to give what Vincent thought was a wink though how the hell he could see anything under those tacky-ass glasses was beyond him.
Vincent became painfully aware that he was sitting in a chair, surrounded by monitors that were frankly creeping him out. He looks to his hand that has fewer fingers than he is normally used to, but that’s something to think about in the future.
He reaches up, touching his head that does not feel wrong whatsoever. The monitor didn’t feel weird. If anything, it felt… normal. That realization unsettled him more than the fact that it wasn’t flesh.
He stared blankly for several seconds before it hit him.
Maybe he should’ve asked questions before everyone left him alone.
Then again, there was still the very real possibility that he was just high as shit and trapped in some fucked-up acid trip.
Right?
When suddenly–
[WELCOME TO THE SYSTEM, USER!]
“FUCK—”
Vincent yelped, spinning around. No one was there. Just the same monitors, humming quietly.
[You have triggered this interface with: “Trash writing, 2/10 Series”]
“…Say what now?”
A translucent blue box floated in front of him, exactly like the ones he vaguely remembered from all those transmigration manhwas he consumed with no end.
[.....current bound role: CEO of VoxTek Enterprises, de facto leader of the Vees, The Media Overlord, “Vox” from the Hazbin Hotel]
He transmigrated as—
“…Oh shit.”
“FOR FUCK’S SAKES, VOX, NOT AGAIN—!”
The girl’s voice echoed distantly as his consciousness began to fade, the system’s voice cutting in one last time.
[We hope you have an enjoyable user experience.]
[Welcome to Hazbin Hotel.]
Hazbin Hotel is an animated musical comedy series set in Hell, even before the series was properly released. The Pilot gained a lot of traction and high praises seeing it as a revolutionary wave and another new genre of animation. The series focuses on Charlie Morningstar, the Princess of Hell, and her goal to rehabilitate Sinners through her Hotel, with the aim of teaching them to be better people, and get them redeemed and able to enter Heaven.
A plot like that hadn’t been done before, especially not as a musical. Vincent was one of the many who got hooked. As a theater kid, what more could he ask for? Killer songs, sharp humor, and just the right amount of questionable morals.
Season two, though? Absolute bullshit.
Why the hell did Alastor just leave after getting his soul back? Why didn’t he help Charlie? Why did Vox, Vox, win the war against Heaven while Lucifer was still inside that cock of a weapon?
And the ending? Valentino killed Vox. Saved Hell. And got redeemed. Angel Dust forgave him. Valentino “actually loved Angel” and was just bad at showing it. The surviving sinners suddenly realized the error of their ways.
And then everyone went to Heaven. Happily ever after.
What. bullshit. And that’s not even talking about the plotlines that were left to the dust. What about Lilith? Where was the Lute’s promise of revenge?
So one may understand the anger that he felt that may have well caused him a few lawsuits.
Though that still didn't stop him.
Using a fresh account, Vincent typed out another scathing review, language his mother would definitely disapprove of, bless her heart. His irritation bled into every sentence, fingers striking the keyboard with more force than necessary as he laid out every grievance he had with the ending. When he finally hit post, the rush of satisfaction was short-lived.
The screen flickered.
At first, he thought nothing of it. His laptop had always been temperamental, prone to lagging when pushed too hard. But the cursor began to stutter, freezing mid-blink, and the faint whir of the machine deepened into an uneven hum that crawled under his skin. The sound lingered, vibrating through the desk, through his wrists, until it became impossible to ignore.
The display glitched again, blocks of color tearing across the screen in jagged patterns. Lines of static bled into one another, distorting the page until the words he had written were no longer readable. The room dimmed slightly, as if the light itself had hesitated. Vincent leaned closer, unease replacing his earlier frustration as a sharp, metallic scent reached him.
Burning.
His chair scraped softly against the floor as he moved, crouching beneath the desk to reach for the power cable. He barely had time to register the heat before it surged up his arm, searing and immediate, forcing the breath from his lungs. His muscles locked, pain blooming behind his eyes as the hum swelled into a deafening roar.
Then it stopped.
The sound cut out so abruptly it left his ears ringing. The room vanished into a blinding white, his sense of balance dissolving as if the ground itself had dropped away. And if Vincent eyes were still open he would have been able to see a screen with a single line of text.
[WELCOME USER]
Everything went black.
As it turned out, when Vincent first woke up in Hell, it was just after Alastor had gone missing. Because of that, he experienced Hell without the looming realization of a war with Heaven hanging overhead. Living in a period where the Radio Demon was absent had its own perks and drawbacks, though at the time he had no idea how temporary that peace really was.
One mercy the system granted him was access to Vox’s memories. Not everything, but just enough. He knew how to run the company, how to navigate contracts, how to speak in meetings without sounding like a complete fraud. More importantly, it allowed him to keep his own sense of self intact instead of dissolving into Vox entirely.
The first few months were difficult, especially with his associates constantly hovering nearby. He managed to excuse most of his strange behavior by claiming he was obsessively tracking down Alastor’s whereabouts. Valentino, in his own words, described it as a “hate boner,” which Vincent would have agreed with if he were not currently inhabiting Vox’s body.
Maintaining the image of indifference was another challenge. Hell expected Vox to be cruel, detached, and self-serving, and while Vincent would never claim to be a saint, he still had a moral line he refused to cross. Keeping that line invisible took effort.
To the rest of Hell, Vox remained the same ruthless media mogul he had always been. What they did not know was that several new internal policies quietly benefited his contracted souls. Improved working conditions, marginally better safety standards, and fewer exploitative clauses slipped into contracts under layers of corporate language.
Valentino noticed, of course. He grew suspicious of Vox’s sudden interest in workplace reform, but Vincent handled it the only way he could. He gaslit Valentino into believing the changes were merely another manipulation tactic, a way to control the masses by giving them just enough comfort to stay loyal. Which, technically, was true. He just failed to mention that the benefits were genuine.
The irony was almost funny. The souls who benefited from the new policies were pitied by other sinners, who assumed they had fallen for one of Vox’s schemes. Valentino did nothing to dispel that notion, often flashing that smug smirk of his. Vincent found himself mirroring it purely out of self-preservation. At this point, everything felt like a long game of four-dimensional chess, and he was playing against everyone at once.
That balancing act became harder whenever he did something genuinely kind. Without fail, a warning would flare into existence the moment his actions strayed too far.
[WARNING! Out of Character. The proposed action qualifies as a violation. Please do not attempt, or the System will automatically attempt punishment.]
The message explained nothing, and any attempt to ask for clarification was met with silence.
Velvette, on the other hand, bought his excuse without much resistance. She became convinced that his behavioral shift was the result of anger management sessions, an idea she loudly claimed credit for. She bragged openly about how she had fixed him. Despite everything, she was decent company, if one ignored the fact that she casually destroyed lives through social media.
The system itself vanished after his arrival, appearing only twice. Once when he first woke up in Hell, and again when he needed Vox’s memories to function. For years, it remained completely silent.
That was why it caught him off guard when it suddenly reappeared during a meeting about expanding VoxTek’s video game division.
Vincent tapped the table, drawing everyone’s attention. “That will be all for now,” he said smoothly. “Let’s continue this discussion another time.”
No one argued. He stood and left without looking back. Being the CEO had its perks, including the freedom to walk out whenever he pleased.
Inside the elevator as it ascended, he finally spoke. “System. Why the hell are you showing up now?”
[The tutorial has been completed.]
“Wait,” he said slowly. “Does that mean—”
[Starting MAIN QUEST.]
[Charlie Morningstar has started the Happy (Hazbin) Hotel. As the plot progresses, various point types will gradually become available. Please ensure that no score falls below zero. Failure to comply will result in immediate termination.]
“How would my score even fall below zero?”
[Out-of-character behavior constitutes a violation of the original Vox character settings.]
“So you can answer questions now,” he muttered. “Why were you silent all these years?”
[A system update was underway. Only basic functions remained active.]
“Huh. So I could have ignored all those warnings?”
[Negative. The system retained termination authority.]
“Well, good thing I didn’t try.”
[Correct.]
“Why do you sound so sassy?”
[The system does not possess sarcasm. The user is projecting.]
He exited the elevator, crossed his office, poured himself a drink, and dropped onto the couch. “So what exactly am I supposed to do?”
[User objectives are as follows:
Maintain Character.
Achieve True Ending.]
“And what exactly is the True Ending?”
[User does not have permission to access this file.]
“Then how the fuck am I supposed to do this?” He threw his arms up in frustration.
[The system encourages the user to do their best.]
“Oh, fuck you.”
[Aggression toward the system qualifies as a violation.]
“So what, I help Charlie with her redemption shtick?”
[Assisting in redemption efforts does not align with Vox character settings and is not recommended.]
He sighed. “Of course.”
Vincent leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling of his office as the quiet stretched on, as if the system were waiting for something more from him. He waited back, but nothing followed. No warnings appeared, no further instructions were given, and there was no sense of urgency pressing down on him. There was only silence.
Slowly, he sat up and set his glass aside. If this thing expected him to maintain character and somehow stumble into a so-called True Ending without instructions, then fine. He could work with that. Hell had never played fair anyway, and neither had he.
Let it be known that procrastination is a fucking bitch. Honestly, could you blame him? After all, being a CEO and all, so he could be forgiven for forgetting about his objective.
He was just lounging in his lair playing—ehem—testing one of his games when he was reminded of his task by the news that the extermination had been moved.
Which, if that isn't an indication that canon is following its steps, then he's fucking stupid. Though he has been trying to monitor the Hotel as discreetly as he can, every drone he sent broke, and if that isn't an obvious sign that the Radio Demon is doing it, then well.
So he left things for now, acting like he doesn't know Alastor is in the Hotel whatsoever, which is probably the easiest job. Instead, he went ahead with plans to make Angelic Security, which is actually an idea that he would do and not just something he would say to the masses.
Things are progressing well on that end to the point he is confident that fewer lives would be taken for a price, though. Becoming a businessman does something to people.
He was interrupted from his musing when Velvette popped up on one of his screens.
"Vox!"
"Velvette, how are you this hellish morning?" he said, embodying his Vox persona.
"Oh, cut the crap. Your boytoy here is making a racket and is ruining my department while I'm trying to put together a show."
"Oh, for goodness sake, Val is not my boytoy," he says.
"Well, I don't care whatever—just do something about this lil piss baby." Velvette points with indignation as she curses. "DAMN IT, VALENTINO!"
The call ended, and now he has to go calm down his comrade. If it wasn't for the fact that it's a violation, he would have backed the fuck out of this imitation of Team Rocket. Especially with someone as irritating as Valentino. He doesn't know how or why the original Vox would take the guy as a partner, either in business or relationship. Though it's probably the profits porn was bringing and the sex, which he hasn't tried because he still can't see the appeal. He's only gotten used to seeing sinners in all shapes and forms so excuse him for not wanting to seeing everything underneath, no siree.
It was a struggle to truly stop the guy from trying to have another relationship with him.
Though the moth still thinks that the two of them are in an off period though how long is that period? But time passes by quickly when you're in hell, and it's a hassle to explain, so he lets it be since it doesn't really affect him.
What affects him, though, is what the guy does, but whenever he tries to do or help, he is always hit with a warning from the system.
He is then on the first floor when he's immediately hounded by reporters. Who the fuck gave them permission to go inside his tower?
"Mr. Vox, what do you think about the next extermination?"
"Well, dear, that is what I would say—that us in VoxTech are always in it for innovation. That is why we are introducing ANGELIC SECURITY. Trust us with your protection."
He finishes and then begins to walk when he spots Ethan, his lovely assistant, nearby.
"How are we doing with version 1?"
"Splendid, are we set for production?"
"Yes, make sure it's ready so I can show it to the overlord meeting."
"Yessir."
He then goes to where Velvette is, observing the destruction that he is sure Valentino left from his tantrum.
"So where is he?" he asks.
Velvette turns around while holding her phone. "Up in his tower, waiting for his flat-faced prince to calm him down."
He sighs and then says, "I'll make sure to send you more models to replace these," as he points to the burnt flesh on the ground.
"Thanks, love—now shoo, take care of the piss baby."
Now in Valentino tower he opens the door and is immediately greeted by Valentino with all his pink smoke.
"Finally—"
"So what got you out of sorts now, Val?" he says.
"Fucking whore."
"Which whore are we talking about?" he asks, even though he knew which one.
"Fucking Angel Dust."
"Uh-huh." He is frankly dissociating, not paying attention, because if things go as canon does, then he knows where this is going. All he has to do is make sure Val won't storm the Hotel.
[New Side Quest: Perform the Music Number "Stayed Gone"]
"Ah, shit," he murmured under his breath. How would I do that?! I can't sing for shit.
[Would User like to buy automatic singing music ability courtesy of Christian Borle?]
"Fuck yes, just yes," he whispered under his breath.
"Hey, are you listening?"
[50 pts will be deducted]
The fuck, I have points?
[System cheers the User on]
"I heard that the Radio Demon is hanging around that shitty hotel."
Wait, I ain't ready. STOP— CAN I PAUSE THIS CUTSCENE