Warning! From this point on, the majority of the story will take place in the Hazbin Hotel Universe. As such, there will be coarse language and references to violence, drugs, alcohol and sexual themes. If you can't handle that, please don't read. With that said, Adventure Time is the property of Cartoon Network and Hazbin Hotel is the creation of Vivienne M. Medrano aka Vivziepop. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda. Enjoy.

Chapter 3: A Nose for News

On the upper westside of Pentagram City, a cherry red Toyota Camry tore through the busy streets; knocking over garbage cans, traffic signs and pedestrians with reckless abandon. And while this was hardly anything new for Hell, what made this particular bout of vehicular mayhem so special was that the driver was somebody famous.

Who, you ask?

None other than Channel 666 News Anchor and all around terrible person, Ms. Katie Killjoy.

And what, you might ask, as well you should, was such a high-profile muckraker doing playing Mad Max with the Inferno's unluckiest undesirables? Well, believe it or not, it was completely unintentional. For you see, at the moment, Ms. Killjoy was much too busy talking on her cellphone to pay attention to the road.

"I don't see what the big deal is." The insectoid demon said to her mobile device. "He told me not to go easy on her and I didn't. End of story."

"He told you to discredit her Redemption Plan." Replied the voice of her station manager, Joe Hack-It. "Not take potshots at her sexuality or attack her on live television."

"Well, in my defense he did not make that clear. And anyway, that was like six months ago. Why is he bringing this shit up now?"

"Because demons are finally starting to forget. The Princess and her Hotel are old news. Which is exactly how the Big Man wants it."

"Okay, but why are you lecturing me about all this?"

"Because I know you, Killjoy. I know how much you love to twist the knife. And I know that little scandal gave your show its highest ratings in two years. So I figured you must be scheming some kind of follow-up exposé to get things going again."

"Oh please, as if that little faggot is even worth the effort."

"Don't bullshit me!" Hack-It shouted angrily. "And this is not a request. The Princess is off-limits. Period. There will be no follow-ups. No unflattering remarks. No mention of her whatsoever."

"You can't be serious. So even if I just happen to catch Little Miss Dancy Pants doing something stupid, I'm supposed to keep my mouth shut?"

"Exactly."

"And since when do you give a flying fuck about other people's feelings?"

"Since one of Lucifer's Gestapo, Federale, Fallen Angel, Suit Jockeys kicked in my door last night and threatened to shove a knife up my dick-hole."

"So in other words, you're censoring me just to save your own neck."

"I'm trying to save both our necks. Do you have any idea how ruthless Lucifer is? You don't get to be King of Hell by being a pussy."

"Psssh. I'm not scared of that saw-toothed jackass. In case you've forgotten, he doesn't own my soul. Vox does. And Vox loves it when I fuck shit up."

"Bitch, don't even play that card. Vox is just as scared of Lucifer as everyone else. And if the Big Man puts you in his crosshairs, there's not a damn thing that electric jack-o-lantern can do about it."

"Alright, alright, you made your point. I'll leave the Princess alone. I didn't have much to work with anyway."

"Good. Now I don't wanna have this conversation again. Because if I go down for any of your bullshit, you're gonna break my fall. You got it?"

"Yes, yes, very scary. Are we done now?"

"Just keep your nose clean, Killjoy."

And with that, the call abruptly ended.

"Pencil Dick." Katie cursed as she tossed her cellphone into the backseat. "Great, now what am I supposed to do for Friday's show?"

Suddenly, a bright flash of golden light blinded the demonic reporter, causing her to skid off the road and ram the front of her car straight into a lamppost. Moments later, she managed to pull herself out of the wreckage; dazed but otherwise alright.

"What the fuck was that?" she asked herself aloud as she surveyed the scene.

Across the street there was an alleyway with a faint, ethereal glow spilling out the mouth.

How very interesting.

It was no Goodie Two-Shoes Demon Princess sobbing on the toilet, but if there was any justice or fairness in this putrid, stinking universe, then it might be something just as entertaining.

XXX

A short distance away, in the backmost part of the alley, a mysterious vortex of golden radiance hung in the air for several minutes, allowing a familiar figure to float through gracefully, before vanishing in another blinding flash.

Marceline had arrived.

And she was feeling pretty damn excited.

After waiting almost an entire week for Prismo's bosses to give him the OK, her wish had finally been granted, and now here she was. In Hell. Not the Nightosphere, but the actual Hell. Just like the one described in the old books from before the Mushroom War. Only in this universe, the stories in those texts had been true.

Weird, huh?

Anyway, the wait had been unbearable, but at least it had given her time to prepare. She'd convinced Simon to look after her house and Schwabl while she was gone; which was especially impressive considering she hadn't told him where she was going or why. It had also given her time to decide what to bring and what to wear. She knew her target loved music, so her bass was a must. As for apparel, she knew next to nothing about the conditions in Hell, so she needed an outfit that both looked good and would protect her sensitive skin from any unknown elements. To that end, she picked out a classic; brown leather boots, tight denim jeans, red tank top, arm length gardening gloves, and a straw sun hat to top it off.

Oh yeah, she was lookin' fine.

Regardless, by the time she'd gotten everything set up, Prismo had gotten the greenlight from his superiors and summoned her back to the Time Room. Once there, he went over the rules of her quest. First of all, her true identity had to be kept a secret; meaning she could not tell anyone that she had come from another universe. When she asked why, the Wish Master simply replied 'To minimize the damage'; whatever that means. What's more, if she did reveal this information to anybody, then she'd be ejected from this universe within 24 hours. Why 24 hours? Who knows? Lastly, she only had until something called 'the Cleansing' to accomplish her goal. If before then she could get the Princess to fall in love with her, then the powers that be would allow Marceline to take her back to Ooo to be her wife. And apparently that was the only scenario the unseen forces were willing to accept. When she'd asked what would happen if they decided to stay in this universe instead, Prismo bluntly stated that it was out of the question. Evidently, his bosses had plans for her that required her to stay on Ooo.

So, just to recap, Marceline had an unspecified amount of time to convince a woman she knew little about to fall in love with her and convince her to move to a completely different universe, without telling her that she was from a completely different universe.

This was not going to be easy. But then if romance was easy, it wouldn't be nearly as much fun.

Besides, it's not like she was going into this completely blind. She knew the Princess loved music; something they both had in common. And she knew her name, Charlotte Magne, so hopefully it wouldn't be too hard to find her address; if such things existed in Hell.

So for the moment, the only question was where to start.

Well, figuring out where in Hell she was might be a good place.

Once her eyes finally adjusted to the light, the Vampire Queen could clearly see that Prismo had dumped her in some back alley. Which made sense, she supposed, since his bosses were all about discretion. However, this understanding quickly turned to anger when her sense of smell returned soon after.

"AH! Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed as her nose was assaulted by the pungent stench of rotting garbage, cheap booze, piss and human excrement. "I mean, come on! I know this is Hell, but does the whole fucking place have smell like ass!"

Marceline paused for a moment to reflect on what she'd just said. Those words. She comprehended their meaning, and yet they felt so alien as they left her mouth. Just before leaving, Prismo had used his powers to augment her vocabulary to help her fit in better. He even downloaded some basic information about the living world directly into her brain. Anything to enhance the charade.

Eh, whatever.

After another minute or so, the stench lost most of its impact and Marceline was able to adjust. So, no longer on the verge of vomiting, she floated onward in search of an exit. But as she did, the Vampire Queen allowed her mind to wander. What a curiosity this new universe was. She knew from the intel she'd been given by Prismo that the world above this sulfurous hellscape was remarkably similar to the one she'd been born into just before the Mushroom War. So had this world avoided the nuclear nightmare that befell her own? But if that was the case, then human society would've advanced over the last millennium, not remained the same. Had the human race of this reality grown stagnant? Or perhaps this universe was merely a thousand years younger than her own, so the events that triggered the apocalypse hadn't happened yet? Was that even possible?

Eh, who cares?

All that mattered to Marceline at the moment was figuring out what/when this 'Cleansing' thing was, so she'd know how much time she had, and learning where her lovely Charlotte lived.

With this in mind, the Vampire Queen continued down the alley. But after a while she began to grow suspicious. No matter how far she floated, she never seemed to get any closer to the exit. Yet the alley couldn't have been more than fifty yards long. Also, she didn't know why, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, even though she was clearly alone.

That's when it hit her.

Marceline had seen something like this before. Years ago, in the Nightosphere. Certain demons, usually mid to upper level ones, possessed the ability to warp space within a given area. Granted, this wasn't the Nightosphere, but the principal was probably the same. Maybe.

Only one way to find out.

"Okay, you can come out now." She said boldly to whomever was pulling the strings. "I know the routine. I'm not just gonna keep walking until I pass out from exhaustion. Hell, my feet aren't even touching the ground. So let's cut the bullshit and get this over with."

"Fine by me."

As if on cue, two dozen snarling beasts suddenly shimmered into existence. Each of them was humanoid in shape and of the canine persuasion; wolves, foxes, jackals, you get the idea. Some were male, some were female. Some stood upright, some walked on all fours. But they all wore black leather jackets with the same insignia on the back; a broken wine bottle being stabbed through the eye of a skull. Obviously this was a gang.

The largest, and presumably leader, of the group was a tall, potbellied demon who appeared to be a mix between a man, a hyena and a wild boar. He wore a jacket, just like the others, but his had gold spikes on the shoulders, as if to signify his rank. He also had a gold chain around his neck and the word 'Bacchus' tattooed on his bloated stomach. In short, he wasn't pleasant to look at.

Or smell.

"So, what have we here?" the hyena-swine asked in a low, throaty voice. "A lost Twilight fan? A lonely gardener looking for some action? Just who the fuck are you, baby?"

"I'm just passing through, pal. I don't want any trouble."

Some of the dog demons started to chuckle.

"I say something funny?"

"Bitch, nobody passes through my territory without trouble." The gang leader said smugly. "Not unless you pay the toll."

"I don't have any money."

"Don't need it. We only take flesh."

"Excuse me?"

"One chaw outta your hide for every step you took on my turf. I take the first bite. Then I pass you to one of my boys, and we take turns until you're all paid up. Let us do that and you're free to go. Resist and we double your debt. Sound good?"

"I didn't take any steps. I've been floating this whole time."

"That's fine. We'll just call it an even twenty."

"Yeah… that's not gonna happen."

"Make that forty."

"Buddy, I've been having a real tough time lately. So trust me, you do not wanna push me right now."

"Eighty."

"I'm not kidding. I really don't wanna have to hurt you guys."

"One-sixty."

"Eh, screw it."

And with that, the Vampire Queen let go of her inhibitions and allowed all the pain and frustration of the last five weeks to bubble up to the surface.

Her teeth grew long.

Her nails became claws.

Black leather wings burst from her back.

By this point, the hyena-swine and his cronies probably realized that they had made a big mistake. But of course, it was much too late.

Whether they wanted to or not, they were going to give Marceline some much needed catharsis.

XXX

Meanwhile, safe in her hiding place behind an overturned dumpster, ace reporter and outspoken homophobe Katie Killjoy was filming the delicious carnage on her backup phone.

She just couldn't believe her luck. What began as a wild goose chase for a mysterious flash had led her straight into the midst of a potential gangrape situation courtesy of the 6th Street Wine-Os and their gruesome leader Bacchus von Brute. However, the script was completely flipped when their would-be victim suddenly transformed into a giant ferocious bat monster and started totally fucking them up.

Ratings~

Forget the Princess and her fruity ideas, this is what the people want to see. Violence. Mayhem. Gratuitous Bloodshed. The essence of quality television… at least by Hell standards.

Oh~ And speaking of Hell Standards, this bat demon, whoever she was, was really making a good first impression. Such power. Such raw brutality. With the right publicity and representation, this little gal could become a major player in no time. Like a Pit Lord. Maybe even an Overlord.

For a split-second, Katie considered the prospect of becoming her manager, but then snapped back to reality when she realized she had missed the end of the massacre.

Where once had stood a ruthless gang of thugs, there was now a lone she-demon floating over a field of mangled corpses; and without a drop of blood on her outfit. Most impressive.

With the slaughter clearly finished, the demonic reporter retracted her phone and began to go over the footage. Oh yes, this would do nicely for Friday's show. An entire gang murdered by a lone newcomer; the perfect way to kick off the weekend.

Okay, technically no one was 'murdered' since this is Hell and everyone down here is already dead, but who cares? The viewing public didn't need to know that Bacchus and his goons would just reform in a few days. Most of them already knew that and the rest were fucking retards. All that matters is boosting the ratings by any means necessary.

With all this in mind, Katie carefully stuck her head out to make sure the coast was clear. Sure enough, the mysterious bat demon had left. Excellent, now all she had to do was get down to the station and get the footage cleaned up and edited in time for…

WHOOOOSH!

The next thing she knew, the ace reporter had her back against the wall with a very large ax blade pressed against her throat.

Curse the universe for giving her such a long neck.

"Who are you?" the bat demon asked in a blunt, no-nonsense tone. "And why were you filming me? Are you a spy?"

"Easy, cupcake. I'm no spy." Katie replied in the calmest and 'friendliest' voice she could muster. "I'm just a reporter looking for a story, and your little skirmish with the Wine-Os was just what I needed for an upcoming show."

"Prove it."

"What's to prove? People love violence."

"That you're a reporter, dumbass!"

"Okay, okay, just calm down and I'll show you." The insectoid said as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her press pass. "See, I told you I'm legit."

The bat demon examined the pass carefully, but then let out a dry chuckle.

"Seriously? Your name is Katie Killjoy?"

"I was going for alliteration."

"Eh, whatever."

And with that, the bat demon put her ax away and started floating toward the exit. However, just as she got halfway, she turned around and flew back.

"Hey, wait a minute. If you're a reporter, then that means you probably know a lot about this place, right? And everyone who lives here?"

"I know a thing or two about a thing or two." Katie replied, feigning modesty.

"Then can you tell me where I can find Charlotte Magne, the Princess of Hell?"

Upon hearing this, Katie couldn't help but snicker.

"Why do you wanna find that loser?"

A question she quickly regretted once the bat demon grabbed her by the throat.

"Because I'm looking for her. And unless you wanna end up in worse shape than those assholes over there, I suggest you watch what you say. Got it, bitch?"

Ordinarily, such a comment would have seriously pissed her off; especially coming from someone so much younger than herself. However, having just witnessed what the bat demon was capable of, Katie decided to play it safe and cooperate.

"Got it. The Princess runs a flophouse on the eastside of town. The… Happiness Hotel, or something like that. It's the big, gaudy looking building. You can't miss it."

"Thanks." The bat demon replied; releasing her throat.

Then without another word, she flew up into the sky and out of sight; leaving the ace reporter extremely confused.

Who was that mysterious demon?

Why was she so interested in the Princess?

So many questions.

And new questions often lead to hot new stories.

"Hmmm…" she said as a sinister smirk spread across her lips. "Maybe I should keep an eye on this one."

End Notes:

"Pit Lord" is a demonic rank I made up to describe demons like Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb. Weaker than Overlords but still more dangerous than your average demon. You know, just FYI.

Anyway, I'm really loving the support this story is getting so far and I hope it keeps up.

Thanks again for reading and I'll see you all in the next one.

Peace.