(All Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss characters are copyrighted by Vivienne Medrano. All original characters are by me)
Tales of the Sigh
Tale I: The Opened Throat
by Adonisus
The champagne glasses were ringing their crescendo when she entered the room.
The ballroom was brightly lit from the candles on the chandelier, enveloping it in a gold and decadent glow, holding Hell's evening darkness at bay. The room was filled with members of Hell's Goetic aristocracy, of all shapes and sizes, and each wearing their own mask. They were accompanied by numerous Imp servants, in various states of undress.
Though honestly, it wasn't like they were hiding anything. The whole place reeked of aristocratic frivolity.
But as she was playing the part of a servant, she was meant to be a part of the scenery. The masked Imp girl was wearing the sheerest of party dresses, with her bone-white hair tied in a tight long braid, and her horns freshly polished. On her right hand, she balanced a tray with a bowl of caviar and a small pearl spoon. She carried it up and over her head and Imp horns, in order to keep it at mid-height for the guests to taste. The strength in her arm was slowly leaving her, and she was getting really tired of being pawed at by horny and inebriated aristocrats.
On the state at the front of the room, stood the host's of this evening's soiree. He was the only person in the room who wasn't wearing a mask, though honestly it was impossible for him to hide it.
"My dearest guests and confidants!", the Owl-demon proclaimed. "I once again welcome all of you to my estate, for this evening of revelry."
His Highness, Prince Stolas, was wearing his usual regal get-up of a feathery top hat, red tunic, gray trousers and burgundy surcoat. His white owl face expressed nothing but the most aristocratic calm, though his beak was twisted in a somewhat mischievous manner.
"Once again, we have survived yet another Cleansing. I have just received word from His Majesty that He and His house have survived unscathed, and that Pentagram City is already well underway in clean-up efforts."
The room thundered with applause.
You know what he means by 'clean-up'.
"Yeah, turf wars.", the Imp answered to the voice in her head.
And mopping up the corpses. Those who weren't fortunate enough to have the likes of His Majesty's fortifications.
One of the nearby guests scooped up a spoonful of caviar from her tray. She gave them a comely wink as they laid the spoon back down. The guest was one of the Goetic aristocracy, a large lion-headed demon named Purson. The felinoid-demon licked his lips and winked back at her before he strolled into the crowd of revelers.
"Are you still where I left you, Jude?", she whispered.
Yes, in the potted plant on the balcony.
"Good, so no-one has spotted you yet."
There is a worm crawling on me.
"Vocational risk. Just deal with it."
I didn't say it was unpleasant.
"Shhh, Stolas is finishing up his speech."
Back on the stage, Stolas was wrapping up his address to his guests.
"….And so, I hereby propose a toast!"
He reached over to a nearby table, and picked up a large glass of champagne, one that was enjeweled and made of pure crystal.
"To His Royal Highness, and His Majesty's family! Long live the House of Magne!"
"Long live the House of Magne!", the guests repeated.
Stolas guzzled down the champagne, wiping his beak with his coat.
"Now then, before we begin this evening's festivities in earnest, I believe that Mr. Bodfish wishes to make some remarks, yes?"
"Indeed, your Highness.", said a deep, rumbling British voice. "With your permission, of course?"
"Oh, absolutely! Please…."
Stolas strolled from his spot on the stage, taking his seat at a nearby table.
"Thank you, sir.". The sound of heavy boots resounded throughout the ballroom as Nimrod Bodfish took the stage.
Bodfish was a mercenary, and the head of WUL Inc. (Warriors Under License). His company was a private security contractor, who had made a fortune as elite guards for Hell's hierarchy….or at least, that was the pitch. In truth, his business was almost exclusively with the Goetic Aristocracy (the Overlords hated his guts, and the Royal Family preferred to rely on the royal guard).
He was also a literal Black Sheep: He had the appearance of a ram, with large curled horns that were polished to perfection, and his body was covered in ebony wool. He was tall, composed, and projected an air of militaristic discipline, with a small muzzled face that betrayed no emotion. He was wearing a dark black uniform, mirroring that of a high-ranking military officer, with a black beret that carried the insignia of a wilting rose.
Nimrod cleared his throat.
"My friends, I wish also to congratulate you for surviving yet another year. Once again, we were challenged by Heaven's mightiest...and once again, we came out victorious."
The room erupted in cheers. The Imp girl could barely keep herself from gagging.
"Like they were under any threat. This place's security is virtually impenetrable."
You got in here, didn't you?
"I said virtually, Jude. My point still stands.", she whispered.
Bodfish continued.
"We have proven that we are, in fact, among the strongest in Hell. That we are, indeed, fit to rule this Inferno, and that our lessers are nothing less than fodder. It is we who were intelligent enough to make the necessary preparations, and it was we who survived unscathed. As the unwashed mass of Sinners outside these walls were cleansed by the thousands, it is we who will live to rule another day."
Bodfish triumphantly raised his arms. "Do you not agree?"
Once again, the ballroom was filled with cheers. The Imp girl, for her part, could only shake her head.
Her eyes scanned the area around her.
Do you see him?
She squinted her eyes...but it was mostly to no avail.
"Not at the moment. All I can see are a bunch of asses."
She sighed to herself in frustration. Sometimes it just didn't pay to be so short.
"Plus I can't see past everyone's rear-ends."
….Oh, I get it. Funny. But I need to remind you that we don't have a lot of time left.
The Imp girl slowly tried to make her way through the crowd, careful not to spill the caviar.
"I'm aware of that.", she whispered. "Just be ready when I need you. I think they're getting ready to…"
Bodfish loudly clapped his hands together.
"Now then, enough with formalities! I believe we have a party to enjoy, Your Highness?"
"Very much so!", Stolas said as he strolled back onto the stage. "Now then, friends: Eat, drink, and be merry! For tomorrow...we might be sober." His beak twisted into that mischievous grin once again as the revelers gave their hurrahs.
"Fucking finally…", she whispered.
Are you able to see him now?
She once again peered around the room. The crowd was breaking up as the various guests all began grouping up for their various shenanigans. Many of them would be escaping to some of the lower rooms for further substance use, and illicit sexual activity. Various infernal aristocrats had begun pairing off, dragging their servants behind them. Two nearby female demons were pawing each other's breasts while one began lightly biting the neck of their Imp servant, who was clearly uncomfortable with the whole ordeal.
The Imp girl had to bite her tongue. Not all such injustices could be solved at once.
….At least, not at that exact moment, as her scanning eyes finally located her target.
"I see him. He's heading for the stairs."
The ones that lead to the balcony?
"The ones that lead to the third floor. The balcony is on the fourth."
Do you need my assistance?
"No need. I've got this."
Don't leave me out of the fun.
She giggled to herself as she set down the tray of caviar.
"Don't worry, I won't."
She slowly slinked her way out of the room, past an Imp that was fellating a raven-headed Prince.
He ended up meeting her at the top of the stairs.
The demon known as Purson was a fairly tall individual, being a little over 8', with a dark brown mane. His lion muzzle was filled with razor sharp teeth, all of which shone in the moonlight with his lascivious grin. He was wearing a fairly standard three-piece suit (with the exception of the bronze epaulette on this shoulders), with a red tie that showed the emblem of his house: an anvil-headed figure with three legs and a cross on its chest, holding a four-pronged pitchfork that extended out to the left, surrounded by the latin letters that bore his name.
'Bingo', she said to herself.
"Well hello there, my salacious little minx.", he growled.
The Imp girl blushed. "Oh, your highness! I'm sorry if…"
"No need to be sorry, my dear." He bent down to her eye-level, his eyes tracing up and down her small, petite frame. "You must be new here."
She giggled nervously. "Oh, I am your highness! This is actually my first night, and I still don't have the lay of-"
Her sentence was cut off by Purson as he pulled her forward to his face.
"Now now, a pretty little thing like you should not be by herself."
He sniffed her hair, inhaling her scent. He licked his lips again as he stroked her red shoulders.
"Oh, your highness! Whatever are you…"
She shoved her lips to his muzzle, his long tongue slithering into her mouth and almost down her throat. He took one of her hands and pressed it to the crotch of his pants, where she could feel his swelling groin.
She broke away. "Your highness! You want to….with a little Imp like me?"
"Exactly with a little Imp like you." He grabbed her by her buttocks and scooped her up into his arms. He lasciviously licked her crimson neck. "I think you'll make a wonderful little toy…"
She grinned. "Oh, sir! But wouldn't you want to go somewhere more romantic? The balcony, perhaps?"
"Who said anything about romance, little toy?", he growled. His sharp teeth grazed her shoulder.
"Well...at least on the balcony you could...show me off?"
He rubbed his nose across her forehead as he sniffed her hair. "But I don't want to. I want you all for myself…"
"Oh, fuck this."
The Imp girl grabbed him by his mane and kicked with both legs into Purson's chest, knocking the wind out of his lungs and snatching a handful of his mane before she flipped back onto the floor. She slid between his legs and ran down the hallway, dashing past a group of aristos decked out in gimp suits being led by other aristos with leashes. Purson was right behind her, roaring with anger as he gave chase.
Were this any other place, with any other group of people, she honestly wouldn't have minded the action so much. Hell, any Sinner that looked like Purson she probably would have jumped herself before the champagne bottles were uncorked.
But she had a job to do, and a cause to serve.
And she was going to enjoy it.
After running down what felt like the universe's longest hallway, she finally found the stairs that led to the balcony. Much like everything else in this house, it was overly ornate and decorated with owl faces and hearts. Considering it was only a few steps tall, it seemed needlessly bombastic.
She heard a crashing behind her as she dashed up the steps, only looking behind her for a moment to see Purson run into a credenza, dashing his knee against its surface and knocking a couple of expensive vases to the floor.
He growled at her as she hurriedly opened the glass-pane door and dashed out onto the balcony, slamming the door behind her.
So his suspicions were correct?
"Yeah, they were.", she whispered. "You about ready to finish this, Jude?"
I await your command.
Purson's fist smashed through the window, dashing pieces of glass to the ground and cutting his hand in several places. He bled pink blood onto his jacket sleeve as he stepped through it.
"You've made a big mistake, little Imp. Do you know who I am? Do you have any idea what I could do to you?"
She barely responded, giggling to herself as she looked out at the scenery below, seeing Stola's grand estate illuminated by the light of the Pentagram moon. The only other thing on the balcony was a lone, potted plant, purple in color and with sharp, thorny leaves.
She turned back around to face him.
She smirked at the furious felinoid-demon as she shook her head in disgust.
"The wrong direction.", she said.
He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
She extended the arm that was still gripping a piece of Purson's mane.
"That emblem on your tie? The anvil-headed demon with the pitchfork?"
She turned over her hand and let it drop to the balcony's surface.
It should have fluttered softly down...but instead, it simply plopped like a stone. It stood straight up on the tiled floor.
It was balanced on the pieces of velcro that had kept it fastened to his scalp.
"It's supposed to face right."
She snapped her fingers.
Took you long enough.
The potted plant blasted to pieces, flinging pieces of pottery and plant matter all over the balcony, even flinging pieces of dirt on her dress.
Out of the blast flew a single object, which twirled and rotated in the air as it flung itself at the Imp.
She effortlessly caught it with her left hand.
It was a dagger, curved like a Janbiya, roughly ten inches long and with a ruby-red hilt.
It's blade was solid, stainless steel.
Except for the tip, which glowed a slight blue.
Blue like Heavenly Steel.
"You've been a bad boy, Mr. Purson. But then, you're not actually Purson at all, are you?"
She slowly walked towards him, strolling with an almost casual air as her hand gripped the hilt of the dagger.
His eyes slowly widened as realization dawned on him. "...It's you! You're that bitch from the ILF!"
She grinned. "And you're well and truly fucked. You've made some people very, very angry."
She stopped, roughly three feet away from the imposter.
"And I don't think Mr. Bodfish would be happy with your failure, would he?"
His face twisted in fury. He roared as he lunged at her throat, ready to tear the Imp to pieces.
Duck left.
She effortlessly dodged to the left, away from the impostor's clumsy attack. He glided right past her, almost slipping to his knees.
She lept up from the tiled floor and up onto his back. He desperately flailed around as he tried to tear her off.
She brought the dagger down into his lower back, jamming it in all the way to the hilt.
The impostor screamed as he fell down to the floor, his head bouncing off the tiles and causing some of them to crack.
She hopped off of his back as she looked him over. He was lying face down, pink blood pouring out of his back. He was still breathing, though it was shallow.
She walked over to his head and grabbed him by the scalp. The light was slowly fading from his eyes, but he was still alive.
She bent down, and held the dagger to his neck, with the point poking at his carotid.
The surface of the blade slightly shuddered, with a black, veiny slit slowly stretching across it.
It opened up to reveal a single, pulsing eye, which stared directly into the impostor's terrified face.
She grinned as she lowered herself to his ear.
"The Imp Liberation Front sends it's regards", she whispered as she slit the blade across his neck.
Any cry he may have had was strangled by the blood from his opened throat. He gave a few choking sobs before collapsing completely on the floor, lifeless and motionless.
The night was quiet again.
The Imp girl exhaled, wiping sweat from her forehead.
Check his pockets. I can see something in them.
The eye on the blade shifted, attempting to motion towards the imposter's trousers.
She bent down shoved her fist into an over-stuffed pocket, rummaging around what felt like a trash-heap. She produced a bill-fold, on which was sewn the emblem of the wilting rose.
Just as she thought, he was a WUL agent.
She opened up the bill-fold, inside of which were a stack of small photographs.
Photographs of that evening's master of festivities in sexual congress...with a certain Imp.
It took her a few minutes to sneak back down the stairs and into the servants' quarters, dodging a few intoxicated aristos. Fortunately, most at that point were either black-out drunk, or too busy groping each other to notice the white-haired Imp dashing through the room.
She made her way to the servants' quarters, where the kitchen was located. Her regular clothes were stuffed into a trashcan just outside, where a single window-paned door opened out into the back, and Hell's night.
The kitchen door slowly creaked open as she carefully stepped inside.
"So it is done?"
At the kitchen table, sipping on a steaming cup of tea and watching the lit fire of the baker's kiln, was Stolas. He looked tired and restless, in spite of his aristocratic air.
The Imp girl sighed. "Yes, your Highness. You might want to send a clean-up crew."
"They're already on their way, my dear."
She tossed the bill-fold with the photographs onto the kitchen table. "Your suspicions were right, sir. He was working for Bodfish."
"Indeed.", said Stolas as he set down his cup. "Then again, I had suspected something was awry. Purson has never answered one of my invitations until this year. He's much too busy with his own estate to tear himself away from it. Plus, he hates Imps."
He giggled slightly to himself. "I'm sure that Mr. Bodfish is getting the news right about now."
The Imp girl hopped up onto the table and sat down. "Any idea why he was trying to blackmail you?"
"Simple, my dear. You heard all of that nonsense on stage, yes? He wants so badly to be one of us, and he figures he can use me to do it."
He picked up his cup and took another sip. "It's his only recourse, after all. The Overlords won't pay him any attention, and His Majesty Lucifer wants nothing to do with his enterprise."
Suddenly, Stolas's face curled in disgust, if only for a moment.
"And if he got anywhere near my daughter…"
The Imp girl sighed. "So...is the deb repaid?"
Stolas nodded. "Yes. Tell Lucius that the debt has been settled. Also…"
The owl-demon reached underneath and table and produced a small stack of bills, which he softly pushed towards the Imp girl.
She raised an eyebrow. "What's this?"
"Consider it a small investment for your organization. It's not substantial...but it should be useful."
She picked up the money and looked at it.
"...But why?"
The owl-demon smiled a slight smile. For a moment, his eyes actually appeared warm.
"Most of those fools up there do not like Imps."
He winked at her. "But as you may have surmised….I do."
The Imp girl shoved the money into her dress and hopped back down to the floor.
"The back door is unlocked. Your escape is secured."
She slowly walked to the door, which had a single stained-window pane with the image of an owl.
"I wish you luck in your endeavors, my dear.", Stolas remarked.
She creaked open the door and snuck out, closing it behind her and escaping into the night.
-Fin-