Disclaimer: I do NOT own Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, or any of its characters. All of that belongs to Vivienne Medrano (AKA Vivziepop). I only own my OC's. Now then, onto the next chapter.

Chapter 2: First Day in Hell

When I open my eyes, what do I see? Myself falling from like a mile in the air towards some big red city I don't recognize, though I'm more concerned with the falling part. So I respond to this situation like any other normal person would.

"Wha- whaaa!? Shit! Fuck! FUCK! FUUUUU-"

*BAM*

I slam right into the rooftop ledge of a building before finally landing on the cold concrete ground of an alley.

"Argh…. Ow." I mutter while rolling myself onto my back. Don't get me wrong, that fall I just endured just now fucking hurt. Almost as much as getting shot- FUCK THAT'S RIGHT I GOT SHOT!

I immediately start patting down my chest, only to find that the 20 gunshot wounds (11 of those being from my 9mm and the other 9 being from the shotgun) that were in my chest are now just gone without so much as even a scar left behind. Like it never even happened. Though obviously it did since both my shirt and hoodie are still soaked in my blood, and while the gashes from the pistol whipping and the single hole in my head I got from Blitz are also gone, my face is still covered in blood (as I find out by wiping it with my hand). Finally, the hair on the back of my head is also soaked in blood; that must've been one… well, one good-sized exit wound considering it was a 9mm hollow point that went through, and I'm pretty sure I had my gun loaded with +P's.

Anyway, the blood just confirms all of that bullshit with the three Imps really did just happen, which means that I'm dead now, which also means that I'm now in….

….. oh fuck me.

As soon as I look up at the red sky, the first thing I see is the GIANT FUCKING PENTAGRAM just hovering high above me. Well, there's no doubt about it now: I'm officially in Hell.

I stand up and take in my surroundings. The alley I'm in is fucking dirty; trash, empty bottles both intact and shattered, cigarette butts, cans, used needles, old shell casings, and used condoms. Like I said, fucking dirty yet eerily similar to what you'd find in an alley on Earth. Of course there was also graffiti on the walls, mostly pentagrams and "666". And-

*HOOOOONK!* "Fuckin' move already ya piece of shit!" "Go fuck yourself asshole!"

The hell? Is that a car? And road rage? I immediately walk to the end of the alley and lean past the corner, and what I see really surprises me.

You see, because I used to play Doom a lot, it gave me the impression that Hell was just this barren wasteland of fire inhabited by mostly-mindless demons who torment you for all eternity. But what's in front of me pretty much just throws that whole concept out the window. There's streets, traffic, modern-looking buildings, businesses, virtually everything you'd find in any city on Earth. Although many of the businesses I can see right now are advertising mostly one of two things: drugs and sex. For the drugs, I'm not talking the Marijuana shops you'd find in a place like California. There are advertisements for the hard shit as well; cocaine, heroine, meth, you name it. And… is that seriously a vending machine that sells drugs? Just what kind of sideways version of Hell did I just fall into? I thought Hell was the place where bad people are sent to suffer. Instead it looks like it actually caters to what I'm guessing is every vice in existence. Seriously, this is the kind of twist that not even M. Night Shyamalan could think up. Then of course, there's the demons.

What I notice right away is that not one looks exactly the same as any other, and many of them look just straight-up freakish. Though everyone seems to be in a hurry for some reason. Why is that-

"aaaaaaAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" *BAM!*

Across the street from me, someone just falls out of nowhere and hits the pavement. With my full attention on him, I see that he's a demon. But it's what he does when he gets up that grabs my interest. The guy looks around like he has no idea where he's at until he looks up and sees Hell's ripoff version of the Bat Signal. He just stares up for a few seconds before bringing a hand up to the side of his head, but then his eyes widen and his whole body just tenses up as if something isn't right. He looks at his hand in confusion before quickly checking out the rest of his body. It's as if he doesn't recognize himself…

I begin having another look at all the demons going about their business; the ones driving the cars, the ones walking up and down the sidewalk with shopping bags, and the small group recording the fallen demon with their smartphones while laughing about it. The demons…. they're all people. Well, most of them are at least. I'm pretty sure there are some who were born down here, like the Imps; the way Moxxie said "you humans" pretty much implies that Imps are least native to Hell. But this revelation only brings up another question.

My own appearance.

I look down at my own hands, but they're the same as before. After doing a full-body check, I find no altered limbs or extra ones like a tail or wings. I run my hands through my hair and find no horns. The only thing left to check is my face. I reach into my pocket for my phone, but it's gone. What? I check my other pockets, but find them empty too.

Just perfect; not only did I lose my gun, Clyde's money, and my own life, but now I don't even have a goddamn phone or the wallet that had a few hundred of my own money in it. Even the second spare mag I didn't even use is gone, though for whatever reason I still had my holster and mag pouch (which is fine by me since they were both made by Galco and I paid a pretty penny for them). Those three fuckers must've looted my corpse after they killed me. Oh I can't wait to track them down, but first…

Without my phone, I resort to using a beer bottle to get at least a vague look at my face. From what I see, even that's the same. Did I seriously stay the same while everyone else turned into freaks? How?

This also brings up another problem; I'll stick out like a Lamborghini in a Walmart parking lot here, and the people will be just as jealous. I should probably put my hood on before-

*KA-KLICK!*

The telltale sound of a Glock slide being racked comes from right behind me.

"Whatcha got for me big boy?" Asks a surprisingly human-sounding voice despite it belonging to a demon.

I knew right away I was being robbed. Problem is, I already was.

"Sorry bud, a few Imp assholes already beat you to it. Put a bullet in my head and emptied my pockets it seems like." I reply, hoping this guy doesn't start blasting me now for saying that.

"Heh, looks like they did a lot more than put a bullet in your head. The back of your hoodie's got a bunch a holes in it. Blood still looks wet too. Though those boots you got on still look nice n' clean, ya get me?" The mugger asks, subtly making his demand known.

"Yeah, I get ya." I answer before getting down on one knee to start untying my black Rothco Tacticals. I can't believe my fucking luck today; first I get killed by a couple of little red assholes, and now I'm getting robbed by this slick motherfucker.

…Wait a minute.

I immediately re-tie my boot and stand back up to my full 6'6" height.

"Hey, what the fuck man? I said I want your goddamn boots! I'll fuckin' shoot ya if I have to!" The mugger shouts.

"Well, I just realized something." I reply, turning to face him. What I find is a 5'2" Rat Demon in a black hoodie very similar to, but much smaller than my own and black sweatpants pointing a Glock, a model 19 by the look of it, at me. His beady red eyes go comically wide when he sees my face.

"Wh-what the fuck!? How did you-"

"You see, I'm already dead. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here. And you…" I cut him off.

"Just fucked up."

And maaan did this rat bastard fuck up in more ways than one. For starters, he's way too close to me. Second, he's holding his weapon one-handed. And third, well, he fucked with me. This is why I'm able to roundhouse kick the gun out of his hand just as he's pulling the trigger.

*BANG!*

The bullet ends up ricocheting off of one of the brick walls and into the street. Using the momentum gained from my first kick, I then spin around and back kick the rat right in his snout.

*CRACK!*

The thief flies about 5 feet away from me and just lays still. I walk up and see that I basically pancaked his muzzle. He's also not breathing, but as I learned the hard way with Moxxie, demons don't ever seem to stay dead for long. So I get to work on rifling through this prick's pockets since I'm broke. Makes me wonder what kind of satanic currency they have here. Like is it silver coins with a pentagram on one side and the Devil's face on the other or- oh. Scratch that, it looks like they use United States Dollars. Weird, but I'm not complaining. And it looks like this guy was having a pretty good day until he tried to rip me off. There's close to 500 bucks in cash, a silver wristwatch, a gold locket necklace, a pair of silver wedding bands and a gold engagement ring with a decent-size diamond in it. Other than that, I also find a spare mag for his Glock. Speaking of which…

I walk over to where the gun landed and pick it up. I then do a quick inspection; 13 in the mag, 1 in the pipe, all of them cheap hollow points, Gen 3, standard U-dot sights, the finish on the slide is worn, and the pistol overall looks to have never once been cleaned by its previous owner. Luckily it's a Glock, so it should still run just fine. However, since my holster was designed to hold only a Beretta 92, the Glock 19 will not fit, so it looks like it'll be staying in my waistband in the meantime.

I look back to the rat's corpse.

"Thanks for the cash and the gun bud. Next time, try robbin' someone who you know won't kicked the shit out of you." I say before raising my hood and walking out into the street.

I keep my head down as I walk up the sidewalk. The demons I pass by don't seem to notice my appearance, though I do get a stare here and there, either due to my size, or my bloodstained clothes. As I walk, I see more and more drug shops and especially more sex-related establishments, as well as at least one prostitute for every street corner. Seriously, what's with all the sex stuff? Sure, I myself have had a few one-night stands, but the sex industry here in Hell seems to be WAAAAAY over-saturated. What, does everyone here consume a pound of Viagra every night? Eh whatever. I'm hungry; I wonder if the food here tastes like shit or whatever.

I begin looking around and almost instantly spot something I really didn't expect to see in Hell of all places: the sign had the iconic Golden Arches of McDonalds, but the name below it instead reads "McKroc's". Huh, I guess the dick who stole the McDonald brothers' franchise ended up down here and picked up where he left off. Do I care that this guy fucked a couple of dudes out of their own business? Not really. All I care about at the moment is getting myself something to eat, so I head on in.

The inside is basically just like any other Mc D's I've been to, although when I get to the counter I see that the menu here is bigger. And the guy working the register just happens to be an Imp. As a matter of fact, I soon notice that all the employees are Imps. Huh.

"Welcome to McKroc's. May I take your order?" The cashier asks with the same fake smile that I've seen on pretty much every cashier I've ever met.

"Yeah, I'll have a double cheeseburger and a large Coke." I say, placing my order.

"And what sort of meat would you like on that?" He asks.

Fuck, so they do have weird shit like that down here.

"Ya got beef?" I ask.

"Yes sir."

"Like, beef from a cow?" I ask again to make sure. "Beef" could come from A LOT of different things down here in Hell.

"Yep."

"Alright, I'll take that then."

I then pay for the food and wait a few minutes before it comes out. I sit down at a table away from all the other patrons in the building, which is a challenge considering the place is crowded right now, and start eating. The burger tastes… just like it's Earth counterpart. I just don't get it; I thought Hell was supposed to be the single worst place in all of existence. So what's the punishment here supposed to be then?

After finishing my meal, I go back to wandering around Hell. It during this that I realize I have no place to stay, which means that I'm currently homeless. Shit.

I don't know man, all this bullshit going on… I just…. I….. I need a fucking drink. I don't mean a soft drink like that large Coke I had earlier (and immediately after found out that soft drinks here are laced with cocaine like they were back in the day. Meh.), I mean something hard. Something that'll take the edge off of this overall shitty day I'm having. There's of course bars all around me, but one catches my that I think just might cheer me up a little; a strip club.

There's no name for it from what I can see. The building literally only has a pink neon sign that says "Strip Club". It doesn't really matter to me though. All I really want is a drink. The entertainment inside will just be something for me to watch while I have said drink.

When I get inside, I see that the whole club is low-lit, so all the demons in here look like silhouettes except for their eyes, which glow in the dark. Though there was 3 of them who were well-lit enough to be seen clearly; 2 females and 1 male, sitting in what I assume to be like the VIP seat given that it's located right across from the neon runway stage. The female on the left looks to be a winged Imp with black hair, black horns, more normal-looking eyes, and wearing a skimpy school girl outfit that showed off much of her red skin. The female on the right looks to be a Cat Demon with orange hair, cat eyes, a white top, a white mini-skirt, and a bell around her neck. The male in the middle is obviously a pimp since he's wearing a red fur-lined coat that seems to be floor-length, gold-rimmed heart-shaped sunglasses over his glowing red eyes, and a big red hat with a zebra-print band and a zebra-print feather stuck inside of that band. Other than that, he has what I guess is blue-grey skin and he's looking pretty board right now. I'm guessing that he's either some big shot, or even the owner of this club given where he's currently seated. Though looking at him… I don't know how to explain it, but I just have this feeling about this particular guy. And it's not good. Not at all.

So I decide that I'm going to try to keep my distance from him while I'm here. No one's on stage right now, so I must've just missed the last dance. Oh well, there's always the next one. Now about my drink…

I stroll up to the bar and wave the bartender, some sort of Lizard Demon, over.

"Yeah, what do you want?" He asks.

"You got Jack Daniel's here?" I ask back.

"Yeah, we got old number seven. A shot costs five, a whole fifth costs fifty." He answers, though the prices he just told me raises even more questions.

"Ouch. May I ask why Jack costs twice as much here?"

"Ahh, so you're new here. Welcome to Hell pal, where all your favorite brands of booze from before cost even more due to importing." The bartender explains in a way a smart ass would to a moron.

Though he does have a fair point. I imagine it would be difficult to import stuff from Earth to here in Hell. But how do they do it? Hmmmm…. Something to look into later.

"Eh, fuck it. I'll take a whole fifth." I say, placing $50 on the bar.

The lizard takes the money, walks over to where all the bottles of liquor are lining the wall behind the bar, then comes back with the fifth of Jack.

"Enjoy." He tells me before walking off to serve another patron.

I open the bottle and take a swig, savoring the familiar taste before gulping down the burning liquid. Drink in hand, now to wait for the next dance I guess. I also guess that this hood is hiding my face pretty well, especially in this poorly-lit environment. After all, the bartender didn't seem to show any sort of reaction while he was serving me my drink, and I was right in front of him.

Though thinking of my face makes me remember that it's still covered in blood, though it's likely dry now. I wonder if there's a restroom here I can wash my face in. Oh what am I thinking? This place is a strip club. And a bar. Of course it has a restroom. Somewhere.

Walking around for a minute, I do finally find the restrooms in a corner of the club. Although as soon as I go into the men's room, I hear a couple "getting busy" in one of the stalls. Good for them. Above the sinks of course is a mirror, though this one in particular has scratches, cracks, and various phone numbers for anyone looking for a "good time". But most importantly, I'm finally able to confirm that I have somehow completely retained my human form. Lowering my hood, I turn on the faucet and begin rinsing all the blood off my head. It takes about 3 minutes for the water in the sink to turn from red to clear again, indicating that I've washed all the blood off. I look at myself in the mirror again to make sure.

As I said before, I'm 6'6" tall with a physical build of what I've been told by Clyde is very similar to that of Kratos in God of War 4, though in my opinion, I'm slightly skinnier than the Greek God of War. Although coincidentally, I also have the same hazel brown eyes as he does. I'm white, have dark brown hair that I like to keep cut short similar to military style so that no one can grab my hair during any fights I get into, and I currently have a five o'clock shadow though I do tend to keep my face clean-shaven.

After pulling my hood back up, I leave the bathroom and take another sip of whiskey as I walk towards the stage. I find a spot to lean on so I can get a better view of whoever's about to dance. What I imagine is that the next dancer will be an Imp like the one sitting with the Pimp, only wearing a whole lot less. And it looks like I got back out here just in time; the already-dim lights begin to dim even further, signaling the beginning of another performance. I glance back over at the Pimp and see that he's smoking a cigarette that makes red smoke. As soon as he's done exhaling a cloud of this red smoke that forms into the shape of a heart before disappearing, he does an unnaturally-wide, sinister looking smile. His eyes seem to glow even brighter while almost all of his shark-like teeth glow just as bright, the exception being his single gold tooth which is instead gleaming. The whole thing is enough kinda unsettle me, but I immediately snap my eyes back to the curtains. If the Pimp's getting excited, this next one is probably going to be really good. The music starts up just as the neon lights on the stage light up. The curtains then finally part to reveal…

… someone I didn't expect.

The demon up there is definitely a dancer, but as soon as they started singing, I could tell right away that it was a male stripper. No offense to anyone out there, it's just that I prefer the female variety of on-stage entertainment. Nonetheless, I continue to watch anyway since this is the most interesting thing going on at the moment. The Demon that literally everyone in here has their eyes on at the moment appears to be Spider Demon given both the extra pair of arms and the pink neon spiderweb behind him which pretty much gives it away. He's wearing only a black choker, a pink miniskirt with a heart-shaped cutout in the front that's just above his junk, and a pair of long black boots that go all the way up to his thighs. He's covered in mostly white fur with a pink outline of a heart in the center of his chest, all-pink hands and forearms, pink stripes on the upper parts of his arms, and some pink dots in his hair. His right eye is red with a light yellow sclera while his left has a black sclera with both the pupil and the cornea being red. His teeth are shark-like just as every other demon I've seen here so far, and he has a single gold tooth just like the Pimp. His voice sounds like that of a 1940's Italian-American gangster, though right now I'm not really paying attention to what he's singing. But I do catch the bit about him overdosing and ending up in a coma, which would mean that somebody had eventually decided to pull the plug on him. That had to suck.

While I'm not getting excited, everyone else in here seems to be. The Pimp in particular looks to be really enjoying the show. The next thing I know, everyone's just showering the dancer with money, and I can tell he's enjoying both that and all the attention he's getting.

I then turn away for just 2 seconds to take another pull of my whiskey. When I turn back around, he's lying on the stage right in front of me. Then he turns his head and looks right at me. For a brief moment, I see a look of confusion and then shock on his face. That's when I realize that while my hood was doing a great job at hiding my face in a dark room, I'm standing right in front of the only source of light in the whole place; the stage's neon lights were illuminating my face.

Fuck.

Well, it seems that I've over-stayed my welcome here. Time to go. I immediately start walking for the front door. I can just sense the Spider's eyes on my back, and soon I get the feeling that another pair of eyes are on me as well. When I do reach the front door, I make the mistake of looking back; the Spider seems to have shaken it off, but the red eyes of the Pimp was staring right into mine from across the club. He then flashes that evil smile of his right at me.

Aaaaand I'm out.

Hours later…

I put as much distance between between me and that strip club as I could without drawing too much attention. Once I was sure that I was clear of that place and that creepy-ass Pimp, I go back to just wandering around. By now, I've down half of the fifth of Jack I bought, and only now am I starting to feel buzzed. Maybe part of the "punishment" of this weird version of Hell is that it's harder to get drunk? It's not that I was looking to get wrecked; I just want something to help me relax a bit, and this whiskey is doing just that. And I'm not really worried about drinking on the sidewalk since I've seen plenty of demons doing the same, so I guess public intoxication is legal here. Come to think of it, I haven't seen one cop since I got here. With the amount of gunshots and explosions sounding off all over this place, you'd think there'd be police sirens and speeding squad cars and SWAT vans to go along with it, but there isn't. Does Hell not have any law enforcement? Or any laws for that matter?

Well, I guess that would explain… well, everything about this place.

Hmm? Hey, why is everyone freaking the fuck out right now?

Literally everyone around me has gone from keeping a brisk pace to running. Some are even flat-out sprinting. Seriously, what the fuck's happening around here? Ever since I got here, I could just feel this tension coming from everyone around me. I just couldn't figure out why. Hell, I don't even know what time it is since those 3 fuckers took my phone, and the sky hasn't changed one bit since I got here, though it did rain a while ago.

It's when I look up at the sky that I notice a clock tower a few blocks from me. In the center of the clock is a pentagram (go figure), and had Roman numerals instead of the more common Arabic ones. Below the clock itself is a large black image of a flaming demon with a malicious expression. Anyway, the time on the clock reads "11:57" though it doesn't say whether it's P.M. or A.M..

But there's also something else right below the clock, three words and a number, only I'm too far away to see it clearly. So I walk towards the tower to get a closer look while many demons around me were starting to panic. I notice that every door and window is now closed and locked, with the windows either having the curtains drawn or being boarded up. And quite a few demons were pounding on the doors, screaming to be let in. I continue on until I can finally see what it says under the clock.

*NEXT CLEANSE*

1

-DAYS-

Cleanse? What fucking cleanse? Do they mean a goddamn Purge!? But how? Demons can't be killed.

Right?

*BONG! BONG!*

Everyone still in the streets froze as the Clock Tower continues to ring 10 more times.

Author's note: Hey everyone, I hope you're enjoying this story so far. It looks like Malcom is in the worst position to be during THE worst day of the year for Hell. Also, shout out to DFM23 for helping me out with the name for Hell's version of McDonald's and with some other details in this story. SAK-96, signing off.