Chapter 2: Settling In

Being Hazbin Hotel's very first guest had its perks, namely getting my pick of the rooms. There were hundreds of rooms in this place that offered every kind of accommodation possible. I had been sitting at ground level for the past three years, rarely ever getting to be somewhere with a view, so I picked out a room on the top floor that overlooked the city. It made me feel less small, less like an urchin hiding away in a dark crevice, and gave me the opportunity to view the west side from a less intimidating angle.

Vaggie left me to get cleaned up and settled in. The room wasn't all that special; not too different from the hotel rooms I remembered from the time when I was alive. It had a nice, full-sized bed, a TV, a nightstand with a radio, a table and chair in the corner, and a fully stocked bathroom. The color scheme was the same as many others around Hell. A whole lot of red and black, so much that it was almost painful to look at. But beggars can't be choosers, I suppose.

Hanging my cloak on a nearby tree rack, I took a moment to observe myself in the mirror. I must have looked quite the sight to the others at in the hotel. With the dirt that was smeared on my face and the mud that was caked onto my tattered blue jeans and black V-neck shirt, on top of the tousled mess that was my hair, I really did look like a street urchin that had just crawled out of its dark crevice. It made me feel more self-conscious about my appearance. As there wasn't exactly a surplus of pristine showers and baths to hop into every day... Was I always this filthy?

My mind was made up as I stripped myself of my soiled garments and tossed them aside. I wasn't sure how I was going to go about washing them, but I was more focused on getting myself cleaned up first.

For it being a hotel shower, the stall was still spacious. People really didn't understand how much of a pain in the ass feathered wings were unless they had them. They could get heavy, shedded like crazy, and took up twice as much space than someone without wings would. On top of that, I had a cumbersome, six foot long tail attached to my backside, which had a tendency to whip at and knock over everything that was within range. In this shower, I could at least stretch them out a little without feeling too claustrophobic, and after spending a day with my wings pressed firmly against my back and my tail raging war under my cloak half of the time, being able to spread them out again was a welcome relief.

I didn't fully realize just how long it had been since I'd taken a proper shower until the water was turned on. I could feel the filth coming off with the streams that raced down my body, causing a brown puddle to form around my feet. The warmer the water got, the more the tightness began to ease from my muscles. The sensations were so foreign to me that I couldn't help the tears that snuck in with the water, crying with relief as I stood under the showerhead. This was heavenly!

Savoring every moment I had, I gently worked the sweet-smelling shampoo through each lock of my hair, and took my time washing it out. It turned out that my hair was holding onto quite a bit of filth, too, and it actually took a few rounds of washing the dreads out until the water finally ran clear. Once I was sure my hair was clean, I scrubbed the last patches of dirt still clinging to my body with every shower brush, wash cloth, and bath sponge available; draining my body wash of its contents until all I could smell was fruit and flowers. It was almost like torture when I finally forced myself to turn the water off.

The entire bathroom was filled with steam from the shower by the time I exited, filling the entire room with hellish fog. The temperature difference between the bathroom and the shower stall made me shiver, causing my wings to fluff out and shake the water from their feathers. I felt like a whole new person. I could get used to this.

Wrapping a towel around myself, I strode back out into my room. To my surprise, the dirty clothes I had discarded were gone, and a bag packed with clothing was sat on my bed with a note attached to it.

"To Ms. Juniper Charms,

I took the liberty of having Niffty launder your clothes. I've pieced together a few outfits for you to wear in the meantime. I hope they are to your liking.

-Alastor"

I rummaged through the bag and did my best not to cringe. The clothes looked to be straight out of the 1930's. I was used to just throwing on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but this bag was filled with lace dresses, stockings, skirts, and blouses. Not exactly what I would call my style, but I couldn't just hide in here until someone returned with my regular clothes, and Alastor had gone out of his way to give these to me.

I settled on wearing a black lace dress with stockings to match. It seemed even my wings were taken into account, as there were openings in the back that they could easily slip through. Honestly, I almost preferred the dress to my t-shirts, because putting on a t-shirt, or anything that needed to be pulled over the head in order to wear, when you have horns is fucking impossible!

Looking myself over in a mirror, I did my best to style my waist-length dreadlocks around the dated outfit. They didn't exactly go well with the "elegant southern belle" look, but I managed to make myself look a bit more put together by tying my mane back with a couple ropes of hair. I sifted through the various stones in my bag and found a necklace with a rose quartz charm. It wasn't much, but it helped make the outfit look a bit less like I was about to go to a funeral in the Great Depression, and I could make do with it until my wardrobe was stocked back up.

Clean and fully clothed, I decided to acquaint myself with my new bed. A restful night's sleep was hard to come by in Hell, especially on the south side of the city. An old innerspring mattress set on the ground was all I had known for the past three years, so to be met with a clean, satin comforter on a bed as soft as a cloud made every joint in my body scream with relief. My head sank so deep into the goose down pillow that I thought I'd be completely swallowed up by it.

With a hot shower and a comfy bed at my disposal, I almost didn't need redemption to feel like I was in Heaven.

One thing kept me tied to my current reality, though. Sitting next to me on top of the nightstand was a radio... an old radio. It may have just looked like a baby wooden jukebox with its cathedral-style design, but it was a lot more than that in my eyes. It was a security blanket... and a weapon. Most citizens in the south side of the city could be found slumped over their radios as they listened to dead air from the Radio Demon's station. Some said they did it out of habit, others were convinced that we'd all been hypnotized into doing it.

I did it for the comfort and security that came with knowing that the demon whose territory in which we all lived was still alive, because I knew that there were other demons out there that were a hell of a lot worse than Alastor.

I turned the radio on and immediately began fiddling with the dial. There was never a consistent frequency to tune into. It tended to change day to day, but I always knew when I'd found it when I hit a station that was silent with just the slightest hint of static. It was soothing in a way; all the comforts of home, without the dirt and dilapidated dens.

After dozing off for a few hours, I slipped on a pair of flats that had been nestled in my gifted clothing bag, and decided I would take the opportunity to get to know this hotel and its current occupants. If I knew anything about rehabilitation, it's that we'd have to learn to get along. It was always helpful for me to know who exactly I got on with, who I could potentially kill out of frustration, and vice versa. Vaggie already seemed easy enough to talk to. Angel Dust seemed to be too preoccupied with himself to care about much of anything. Niffty was always cleaning, and didn't seem to be all that interested in anyone unless they were a guy. The demon that was at the check-in counter, Husk, I believe, didn't seem to want anything to do with anyone at the hotel. And Alastor... well, something told me I was going to get thoroughly reacquainted with him soon enough.

I was about to step out of my room and into the hallway when a shape scurried past my door. Now, I had been in Hell long enough to see all manner of odd-looking demons and monsters, but there was no mistaking what this creature was as it snorted down the corridor; round and pink with brown patches, and a flat little nose.

A pig. Why was there a pig in the hotel? Why was there a pig in Hell at all, for that matter?

From the other end of the hallway came a shout, "Fat Nuggets!"

I almost couldn't contain my laughter as I watched the little potbelly wheel around and take off scampering back in the direction it had come from, only to jump into Angel Dust's waiting arms.

"'Fat Nuggets'?" I echoed.

Angel looked up at me, wrapping the pig up in his four, spindly arms. He shot me a suspicious look, though I wasn't sure if it was due to the pig or that I looked like I had stepped out of the 30s.

"You're not tryin' to eat Fat Nuggets, are you?" he inquired.

I chuckled, "Nah. The only bacon I eat is the type that's already been sliced."

"Okay, good. Because if you were, I'd fuck your whole world up!"

I didn't know in what context he meant by those words, and, frankly, I didn't want to know. I was just glad that I wasn't like some of the fucked up demons in Hell that ate anything with a face.

"I'm actually a huge animal lover," I said, "Though, I may have eaten a few of Fat Nuggets' relatives back in the day."

"Well, at least you're not like Alastor," Angel commented, "He's always trying to eat him!"

Now there's something I didn't expect, "I always took him for a vegetarian kind of guy."

"Ohh, no. Al's a Louisiana man. Food is everything to that motherfucker. He could probably tell ya what alligator tastes like."

Angel Dust hugged Fat Nuggets against his chest, "Speakin' of food, are ya hungry?"

I felt my stomach give a hard twist. I'd gotten so caught up in the luxury of my new shower and bed that I had forgotten about my hunger. I was starving.

"Al's got gumbo cooking," Angel continued, "He might be thin as a twig, but he sure does know how to cook!"

It was at that moment that I had a moment of understanding. Alastor wasn't just the Radio Demon. He was a sinner. He used to be human. He had family, friends, and a life in the mortal world, once upon a time. He was just like the rest of us. Though he may be a legend in Hell, I couldn't help but wonder who he was before, what he did to end up in Hell, and how he came to possess such immense power. Everyone wanted to know his secret to leveling centuries-old kingdoms and taking out entities that'd had a stranglehold on their territories since the time of Christ, and only Alastor seemed to have access to that information.

"For fuck's sake! I can smell the Tabasco sauce from here!"

Vaggie's eye twitched irritably as she, Angel, Niffty, Husk, and I waited at our table for dinner to be served. It turned out that cozy rooms stocked with supplies weren't the only luxury the Hazbin Hotel provided. On the top floor of the building was a spacious dining area with a jukebox that played several hit songs spanning over the past century or so, and covered almost every genre out there. Jazz seemed to be the most prominent, though. There was even a stage where, I could only assume, freelancers could go up and perform during meals.

Vaggie wasn't wrong, though. The sharp smell of red pepper wafted through the air like a nauseous gas. I knew Louisiana dishes like gumbo and jambalaya had a kick to them, and I was a huge fan of spicy food, but even I thought the smell was a little excessive. Then again, what would a cold-blooded, northern Michigander like me know about southern cuisine?

"Just how safe is Alastor's cooking?" I asked.

"It's actually not that bad," Angel stated.

"Yeah, it's not that bad when he isn't giving some of us explosive diarrhea!" Husk growled. I had the misfortune of sitting next to the massive winged cat, or whatever he was, and he reeked of cheap booze. He refilled his glass and nudged it to me, "Here. Trust me when I say you don't wanna be sober for this."

I pushed the glass away, "I don't drink."

Husk scoffed, "Prude..."

I shrugged and took a sip of my water. The truth of the matter was I kept myself sober, not because I was a prude, but because alcohol messed with the accuracy of my visions and readings. I could handle stimulants like caffeine and nicotine, but most psychics and fortune tellers that I knew avoided them all for the same reason. Besides which, I was insanely hungry at this point. If Alastor's gumbo was going to burn the inside of my mouth and destroy my insides, so be it.

A short time later, Alastor came striding in with a massive pot of gumbo, humming a slow, jazzy tune as he approached. The spicy scent that had been floating in from the kitchen now filled the entire dining area. It was almost strong enough to make my eyes water.

"Geeze!" Vaggie grumbled, "How much of that hot sauce did you put into that concoction?"

"Oh, only five," Alastor replied cheekily.

"Five what? Teaspoons? Tablespoons?"

"Ha! You're thinking too small, darlin'. No, I mean five bottles!"

Husk sputtered into his glass, and I could have sworn I could see raging flames burning behind Vaggie's one good eye.

"I'll just eat whatever's in the trash," she huffed as she stood from the table, "And stop wasting ingredients! I don't care how many bottles of Tabasco sauce you can pull out of your ass. It's pointless if nobody wants to eat it!"

"I'm not dyin' today," Husk slurred, "All the cheap booze in Hell can't save me from that pot of slop!"

The two of them slipped out of the dining room, leaving me, Angel Dust, and Niffty behind.

"Well, mama didn't raise no pussy!" Angel yelled, slamming a fist against the table and holding out his bowl, "Fill 'er up, Al!"

Alastor obliged and ladled out a portion, only halfheartedly tossing a glance over his shoulder to acknowledge Vaggie and Husk's leaving. He served a portion to Niffty before fixing his gaze on me, his toothy grin widening in an almost challenging sort of way. It was as though he was daring me to get up and leave with the others. If I was being honest with myself, I didn't want it either. Second death by gumbo wasn't really how I wanted to go out, but my empty stomach had me willing to try anything at this point.

I lifted my bowl, and Alastor, in an almost gleeful manner, filled it to the brim. The dish was an angry red in color with all the hot sauce that had been put into it. My nose and throat itched just by having it sit in front of me. This was gonna suck, and odds were that my next trip to the toilet was going to suck even more, but at least I'd have something in my belly.

I shoveled a spoonful of stew into my mouth, and almost immediately gagged. For just a split second, it was good; tangy with juicy shrimp, tender chicken, sweet bell peppers, onion, and celery. But all of that faded away in seconds and was replaced with the fiery heat of a thousand chili peppers. I managed to choke down what I had in my mouth before releasing a cough. I finished off my water in a hurry, but even that did little to ease the burning.

Alastor seemed to take pity on me as he refilled the glass with a snap of his fingers, "Too hot for you?"

"Maybe just a bit," I choked out, desperately trying to wash the spice from my tongue.

Angel Dust turned to me, having wolfed down half of his bowl already, "Try savoring it a bit more. There's more stuff in there than just spice."

Niffty nodded in agreement. Angel did have a point. Before the heat kicked in, I could have eaten bowl after bowl filled with the flavors of the other ingredients, but the massive amounts of sauce Alastor had added could knock a bull off its feet.

I couldn't help but look over to the Radio Demon and watch as he ate. Even the way he was eating was elegant and mannerly, but it wasn't the refined way in which he ate his gumbo that I was focused on. It was the expression on his face, a look that was full of nostalgia. My earlier ponderings resurfaced.

Even the most evil of demons had a past they liked to look back on. The days in which we were all still alive were truly the best of times, and even though our most nostalgic of memories were hidden deep within our minds, all I needed was something linked to that nostalgia to be able to tap into it. And it was clear to me that the pot of gumbo Alastor had made was a key that had access to a happier time in his life.

Taking one last drink of water, I pushed the inferno raging in my mouth aside and took in another spoonful of the gumbo. I pushed past the burning and tried to dig into all the savory flavors in the stew. There was the shrimp, chicken, and vegetables, and the stock was riddled with fine herbs.

I closed my eyes and kept playing around with each one of the flavors until I lost myself in a world that was not my own. A golden light filled the darkness of my mind; sunlight peeking in from a window. The distant sound of a knife on a cutting board steadily grew clearer until I could make out two shapes standing in the light. A woman with long brunette hair was standing at a counter, chopping away at ingredients as the soup pot she had next to her on her stove came to a low boil.

Standing next to her, perched on the tips of his toes to look over the counter, was a little, scrappy, brown-haired boy. I could hear their distant voices, but couldn't make out the words. I didn't need to. I remembered doing the same thing with my mom when I was little; looking over the counter to see what was for dinner, studying everything my mother did that made a meal go from just a pile of unappealing raw ingredients to the finished product.

Eventually, the boy sat himself down at their dining room table, kicking his feet happily as he watched the woman through a pair of glasses that seemed to be just a little too big for him. He beamed as she came to him with a little bowl of gumbo, shooting her a smile that I was already all too familiar with. The smile of a baby Alastor.

I didn't catch a single word from the woman, but three little words came clear as day from the boy that made my heart melt.

"Thank you, mama..."

I was held in the vision for a few seconds longer before I was sucked back to consciousness. I could feel tears trickling down my cheeks, completely awed by the pure innocence of what I'd just seen. That's what always got me when I was given glimpses into the pasts of sinners; how innocent they once were, how pure and good their souls were before they became sinners. And how badly I wanted the days where I had that same innocence back again.

To see Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, one of the most powerful beings in Hell, as a child eagerly waiting for his mom to serve supper, and to see that he still had some sort of connection to those memory... It proved that no matter how evil or wicked the person, there was still an innocent, adorable child deep down inside of everyone.

"Hey, June?" I heard Angel Dust pipe up beside me, "You all right?"

I brushed my tears away with the back of my hand, looked up and smiled. My tongue may have still burned from the hot sauce, and my lips may have gone numb, but one thing most certainly had changed. The gumbo was absolutely delicious.