Two days after the lunch with Charlie and the rest of the hotel's staff and residents, two separate crews arrived to perform special duties that had been assigned to them. Two technicians immediately went to one of the elevators to assess its degenerated state and begin the reconstruction process. Another team went upstairs to begin a renovation of the top two floors which needed repairs due to water damage.

Although Charlie had failed to receive any word from either of her parents, she had been given a phone number to one of the personal contractors indebted to the Magne family by her mother's secretary. It was a pleasant surprise that she could get specialists to arrive at the hotel in a few days time to do a job as important as getting the elevators to work properly. The top floor repair job was just a matter of convenience.

The Magne family could easily withstand the cost of both renovations to the hotel. Charlie also had the option of calling professionals to undergo most tasks that were outside the expertise of either Niffty or the hotel's new resident electrician and plumber.

The employee in question, having been lended a few men's clothes thanks to Charlie's endless generosity, was currently hard at work again. It was time to bring more light to the subject of the hotel's rooms.

Jersey chose the opportunity to test out the new supplies and tools that Charlie had graciously ordered for him. A shiny new claw hammer, a fresh new tool box with all of the essentials, a veritable truckload of more efficient and environmentally friendly light bulbs, and a few LEDs meant to be installed into one of the larger rooms at the Hazbin Hotel inspired him to get to work immediately.

Charlie had quickly hashed out how money was to be awarded to Jersey. Instead of waiting for occasional electrical or plumbing problems and receiving a paycheck at the expense of the Magne family for no work, a 'tier list' of jobs was categorized. Small jobs such as light bulb replacements or an application of small things like electrical tape would range from ten to twenty dollars. Installing large scale appliances could range from fifty to two-hundred dollars. Repairs of the outside transformer which provided electricity to the entire building would be at minimum, one thousand dollars. It was a simplified and reciprocal system that happily satisfied both the Princess and her surprisingly scrupulous new patron.

Despite the hustle and bustle of renovation, this meant that little else beyond bureaucratic wrangling was to be done on the part of Charlie or Vaggie. No new clients arrived that day, which was a sobering, but not unexpected occurrence. Not even Alastor bothered to drop by that afternoon to give a cynical take on the slowness of business.

In the meantime, Jersey set about replacing every dead incandescent light source with the latest LED bulbs. It was a steady process, but it gave him time to strategize a means to extend his business out to the rest of Hell. Jersey doubted that he could become the be all, end all proprietor of manual electric services or plumbing maintenance, but it did not hurt to expand his horizons. The primary obstacle to getting jobs outside the hotel was advertising.

The most obvious choice would be Alastor. Being an actual Radio Demon, it was likely he could broadcast Jersey's services for all to hear in a timely and professional manner. Of course, that would require a deal, a contract for Alastor's services, and Jersey was not swimming in cash to compensate the grinning, vaudevillian entertainer. A part of him feared the alternatives that the smiling Overlord might propose in exchange for his broadcasting services. Frankly, Jersey wished to stay as far away from him as possible.

Alastor was to be his last resort.

Unfortunately for Jersey, he had no other obvious choices. He had no connections with any local newspapers or magazines. Likewise, he had n associations to any television executives who made their business in Pentagram City. Social media was another potential avenue of advertising his services, but Jersey didn't even have so much as a phone. Besides that, most people did not care for straight laced business advertising: they wanted internet drama, arguments over petty or stupid subjects, and the digital equivalent of popcorn entertainment. There was little chance he could attract much attention even with months of online campaigning.

Having resigned himself to biding his time to see if conventional advertising could be made available, Jersey brought himself all the way to the top floor. He insisted, to the chagrin of the private contractors, that he ought to lend a hand in the repairing of the top floor.

This had two purposes.

For one, it allowed Vaggie, who at the time had nothing better to do, to personally observe Jersey's expertise with replacing whatever wood had succumbed to the passing of years. Several times, the one eyed sinner would stand by and carefully see the back and forth between Jersey and the two carpenters who had been assigned the restoration job. In short order, the three sinners soon found themselves united in a civil effort to get the top floor rebuilt in a punctual manner.

On the other hand, it gave Jersey another important job to do. He hated doing nothing. It was just fortunate that his two lumber working acquaintances tolerated his presence and assistance. They even dared to make a bit of small talk.

Niffty likewise got in on the action. She, by comparison, was monomaniacal in her mission to clear whatever dust and small debris cluttered the floor beneath the men working the ceilings. More than once she gave flirtatious praise to Jersey, which exasperated him and amused all other parties involved.

But that was neither here nor there.

For the two teams hired by Charlie to renovate parts of the hotel, there were two major conclusions. Firstly, the reconstruction of parts of the ceiling took less time than expected. Charlie had neglected to let them know of Jersey's desire to participate, but the two animal-like carpenters didn't mind the assistance in the end.

Secondly, the two elevators would take a few days to be up and running. Decades of disuse and the inevitable wear and tear of passing years demanded a substantial amount of reconstruction and part replacement to make them operable again. For the time being, people would have to take the time to walk up the staircases on either side of the hotel.

Overall, things had gone well. However, the hotel still had a long way to go before it was ready for any substantial number of guests to arrive.

Charlie's Office

The Princess of Hell was typing down a major plan to make the hotel suitable for more guests on her laptop. Jersey's assessment of the capabilities and shortcomings of the hotel's infrastructure and electrical appliances had been a necessary wake up call. Much of the hotel was still a mess. Even Niffty's inexhaustible pool of energy could not clean away the flaws still present with the building and its prospective operations.

The elevators were getting repaired, that much was true, but Charlie was starting to reckon with new issues that had to be addressed. A few questions began to simmer in her mind.

How was the hotel going to get the food supplies necessary to feed an entire hotel?

What kind of vetting process was needed to ensure any future employees and guests would not harm the hotel in the short or long term?

Assuming that the 666 News interview was a bust, who would dare to take the hotel seriously?

A litany of concerns both great and small had to be ironed out before any large number of tenants made the hotel the home of their rehabilitation. That was assuming that anyone would come forward with an earnest desire to be redeemed.

Charlie knew that there was a great deal of work to be done. So quick was her transition from breakfast to work that she skipped any formal dressing and wore an apple themed pullover and cashmere pants as she sat in her office. It was not the most professional attire, but hardly anyone in the hotel cared about her personal presentation.

A knock rumbled from the door to her office. Charlie relaxed her furrowed brow and looked in the direction of the knocking.

"Come in."

Vaggie stepped in. She was likewise dressed casually, with a dark pink sweater and a pair of gray sweatpants.

"Still gnawing away at that bone, hun?"

Charlie sighed. She looked down at the growing list on her computer. "There's a lot to be done. Supplies. Advertising. We have a lot of work to do. We can't be idle."

Vaggie nodded, a tight grimace on her face. She was concerned that Charlie was working herself into the ground.

"Speaking of work, the upstairs renovation is already finished."

"Wha- really?" Charlie stared up and blinked in response to the news.

"Yup." Vaggie sat across from Charlie on a little wooden stool in front of her desk. "Jersey was quite helpful. It seems he knows what he's doing as far as carpentry is concerned."

Charlie gave a small smile. "It seems our new employee is really proving himself."

"He also replaced all of the old bulbs with LEDs."

"That's good."

A lull in the conversation fell on the room. Aside from the taping on the keyboard of Charlie's laptop, nothing broke the silence. Vaggie stood up and smoothly carried the stool she had been sitting in to the other side. Without another word, she placed her seat next to her girlfriend and resumed her sedentary position.

"What's this?" Vaggie asked as she looked at the laptop's screen.

"A long term plan of the problems we need to fix. There's also a few quality of life things to enact to ensure the hotel runs smoothly. Got any new ideas?"

Vaggie hummed for a moment. "Perhaps some actual activities to prescribe to sinners to help with their rehabilitation? We've talked about games and share circles, but I think actually writing down the options will help. It'll give the guests some options."

"Awesome." Charlie quickly typed out a bullet point list of games and activities for future guests.

"A sign out sheet could be useful if any guests need to leave the hotel. We can keep a track of them and hold them to account if they use the excuse to keep sinning where we can't see them." Vaggie added.

"Perfect."

Back and forth, the two friends compiled a list filled with more than six hundred words. This monotonous process was broken up with Charlie's enthusiasm for rehabilitation and Vaggie's reticent words of moderate hope.

Vaggie was always the person to keep Charlie's feet on the ground whenever she dreamed or thought big. They complemented each other that way. Vaggie adored Charlie's compassion and energy. Charlie appreciated Vaggie's ability to gently steer her back on course when her plans started going a bit too far. This dynamic played out time and time again, and it happened once more in the office.

"I think we have plenty of ideas to consider." The clock on the right side of the office had turned to 4:50. It was nearly time to dinner. Niffty was cooking this time, and Vaggie did not want her or Charlie to miss out on the hot meal being served tonight.

"Aww, come on Vaggie," Charlie groaned, "we're on such a roll right now! Can't we just jot down a few more things? We still have to solve how the hotel is going to keep itself stocked with food 24/7."

"All in good time, hun." Vaggie assured her. "The last thing we need is to keep working on an empty stomach."

"I'm not hungry." Charlie insisted with a huff. Her stomach's growling betrayed her.

"Not hungry, huh?" Vaggie remarked with a knowing smile.

Charlie blushed, trying to maintain her 'serious' face.

"Come on." Vaggie gently closed the laptop and began to lift her girlfriend by the arm out of her chair. "A magnificent feast awaits the Princess." She finished with a faux snobby voice.

Charlie couldn't help but smile. "Okay, okay..." She stood up of her own volition, following Vaggie towards the kitchen.

Niffty was preparing a little known favorite meal of hers: meatloaf. The side dishes gave the rest of the dinner attendees some flexibility with regards to how they wanted to complement their entree. Rice, steamed broccoli, mashed potatoes, and even a small bowl of Italian peas were made in good order by the time 5:00 came around.

This time, everyone had a more proper seat at which to enjoy their meal. A mostly clean table cloth had been placed on large, but simple fold out table. Fine chinaware and silverware that had been in storage for decades had been properly washed and placed accordingly. Niffty could not help but pride herself on her efforts that evening.

"Dinner is served!" She announced to the others with a a jump of excitement.

This time, everyone was at dinner on time. Alastor was dressed in a brighter variation of his dress coat and trousers and had served himself some meatloaf, rice, and brocolli.

"This is truly marvelous my dear Niffty!" He stated with much pomp. "It is such a hardy and satisfying dish. You've truly outdone yourself."

"Thanks, Mr. Alastor!" Niffty had the smallest portions of everyone present, but she had a serving of every side dish alongside her slice of meatloaf.

"It's pretty damn good." Husk agreed. His attire had hardy changed, given the fact he was practically naked except for his considerably thick coat of fur. The perpetually drinking cat demon had settled for a heaping chunk of mashed potatoes to go with his entree.

Vaggie was much more reserved in her reaction to the food. It was the first time she had eaten meatloaf either alive or dead, so there was no previous experience to compare tastes. She did like the rice, however, and had that as her side dish.

"It's a good thing there are multiple people who can cook food at the hotel." Charlie remarked as she happily ate little portions of everything that was served. "The only issue is getting that kind of quality meals to a large number of guests."

"I have a few contacts we can use to search for worthy cooks and chefs." Alastor piped up. "We don't have to receive their services now, given the shortage of patrons, but we can easily make do."

"How do you have access to multiple cooks down here?" Jersey had a considerable serving of meatloaf and a trifecta of brocolli, mashed potatoes, and rice.

"Why the same reason that Husker and Niffty are under my employment my industrious friend!" Alastor responded candidly. "You'd be surprised how many sorrowful sinners are willing to make deals or gamble their liberty away in this world."

Husk made a light growl in response to this, but simply drowned whatever insult he might have hurled at the Radio Demon with a large forkful of meatloaf. Niffty wasn't perturbed by the comment in the slightest.

"Right." Jersey said. He had a terrible feeling that the relationship between Alastor and his underlings was far from congenial. 'At least I know not to make a deal if my life doesn't depend on it.'

"I gotta say toots," Angel Dust stated, "you sure know how to cook peas right." Angel's servings were not especially substantial, but he enjoyed the meatloaf and Italian peas all the same.

"Aww, thank you!" Niffty beamed.

"Are you sure that's enough?" Charlie asked with concern. "There's hardly anything on your plate."

"Princess, you don't get a figure as incredible as mine by hogging down meals." Angel ran his second pair of hands down his slim body with a suggestive smile. "Besides, this is all the food I need tonight."

Charlie let the matter go. At the very least, Angel didn't look like he was starving. He also was not doing any lewd antics like he did wanted to do with the sandwich lunch days before.

"Speaking of tonight, we'll be continuing your rehabilitation at the usual time, seven o'clock sharp." Charlie remarked. "I assume that'll be fine."

"Oof, sorry. Got to head to the studio in half an hour for two shoots back to back." Angel pointedly began to finish his lean meal. "Guess we'll have to reschedule for later on tonight."

Vaggie growled. "We're doing this to help you. Besides, you don't need to work at that studio anymore. We have all of your expenses covered. Food, internet and phone, everything."

Angel gave a dramatic sigh. "As great as that is, I need money on the side, sweetheart. I got debts to pay, a rainy day fund for emergencies. You know the deal." The porn actor, grinning at Vaggie's growing temper, smoothly stood up from his chair. "Well Nifft, thanks for the grub. If you ladies and gents would excuse me, I have an appointment with the work that is my passion."

"Angel, wait up a-" Charlie left her seat to go after him.

"Don't wait up on me, baby." Angel began strutting faster and faster towards the lobby. "I'll be usin' a cab." He soon left the hotel, having left a dejected Charlie behind.

"We can't keep letting him do this." Vaggie groaned. "He's just going to do the same thing time and time again and not improve!"

Charlie, trying to cease her frowning, returned to her seat with a shrunken appetite. "I can't just shackle him to the hotel and force him to undergo our therapy. That would be tyrannical. I don't want to be that kind of person, as owner of this hotel or as heir to the throne."

Alastor laughed. It was a sharp sound filled with legitimate joy at the Princess' remark. "Oh Charlie, don't you realize that redemption is not something that comes natural for sinners? After all, every wretch that lurks about in this pit is after one thing: pleasure. Why should our salubrious compatriot better himself when there is no incentive to do so?"

"But, everyone has the chance to better themselves. I've seen it first hand! Living a life of sin is surely not that great, especially when you have to endure all of the chaos and misery throughout Hell."

Again, Alastor laughed. This volley sounded more hysterical than the first time. "Ha ha ha ha! My my... you sound so sure about. Are you certain that you're seeing the same Hell as the rest of us are? When you were busy making your case live on a picture show, the sinner whom you just let walk out that door thought nothing of destroying your credibility in an orgy of explosions and violence! If this is your plan to redeem souls, this passion project in the making will be even more amusing than I originally thought! Ha ha ha!"

Charlie looked depressed as she returned to her seat.

"Maldito pequeño..." Vaggie growled at the Radio Demon.

"Then... I suppose that's one thing to improve on." Charlie interjected with a forced smile.

"Hmm... See that you do." Alastor replied coolly as he finished up his meal.

Needless to say, it was an awkward ending to what was a spectacular meal.

Charlie's Office, 9:59 am

Jersey hadn't the faintest idea of what was in store for him at his first in person therapy session. He was dressed in one of only three outfits gifted to him thanks to Razzle and Dazzle on behalf of Charlie. It was a fresh pair of jeans and a simple green pullover. At the moment, he was sitting with increasing anxiety in Charlie's office, as instructed.

'Is she even trained to be a clinical psychiatrist or whatever the heck it is she's trying to do?' He prepared himself for some very naive questions with regards to his decisions as a man who, in truth, hadn't been human since hours into the day he was born.

He knew in his heart that the chance for redemption as he was now was impossible. Devils could not go to Heaven, especially when dead. At the same time, a part of him felt bad thinking about either lying to Charlie or breaking her heart about telling the truth. On the latter most option, even if the matter was in strict confidentiality, Jersey was not comfortable recounting what had led him all the way up to this point. It was a miserable story with little chance of a truly happy ending.

The sound of the door opening behind him made Jersey sit up. Charlie, dressed in a taupe pantsuit, and Vaggie, wearing the outfit she had the first time they met, walked around to Charlie's desk to begin the 'redemption rehabilitation.'

"Alright!" Charlie set down a clipboard of what she assumed would be noted to be written down during the open air dialectic between herself and her latest patron. "How are you, this morning?"

"As well as could be expected." Jersey shrugged. "Thanks again for the clothing to hold me over while I try to find time to get a new wardrobe."

"No problem! Now, there's no sense in beating around the bush. Let's start with your life. What sins did you commit when you were alive?"

Jersey made a point to look as if he was heavily considering the point. He was, to a certain extent, wondering how much information he could spill to Charlie without giving too much of his personal life story away. Jersey tended to avoid the majority of his past as much as possible; the baggage that came with it only invited attempts on his life, and he wasn't going to take chances, new Hell or not. So far, she had not given him any reason to distrust her. However, the walls have ears, as his old master once said as he instructed him in the art of stealth magic. Charlie and maybe Vaggie aside, he did not trust any of the other staff members or patrons at the Hazbin Hotel with his life story.

With a flicker of his finger, a motion so small that neither of the girls saw it, a magic circle momentarily flashed under Jersey's palm. The power radiated down the arm of his chair and swept over every atom and crevice of the room. Any noise that might resonate from his mouth would be silenced by a magic dampening field. Now Jersey could say something without the chance of unwanted persons listening in.

"I was young. Not a little kid young, but not quite military age, you get me?" He asked to ensure Charlie understood his point.

"Mmm hmm." She nodded in affirmation.

"I killed a man. That was the first sin I committed."

"So you are a murderer, well, were a murderer." Charlie observed.

'You should have seen me when I first arrived here, Princess...' Jersey thought darkly. "Yes. I have murdered people."

Vaggie, as expected, became on edge, but retained some sense of restraint. "What kind of people?"

Jersey thought about his response. "I had been tormented by the first man for years. When I killed him, I merely exploited an opportunity to put him down."

"Ah." Charlie looked unsure of what to say. "I'm sorry your childhood was so rough."

'That's putting it mildly.' Jersey merely nodded without a word. He knew that he need not be offended at her understatement. She had not been present when he was being turned into a "good little servant."

"Alright, who else did you kill besides the guy who treated you badly as a kid?" Vaggie added, still looking uneasy.

"The second man I killed a few years after my first murder was in self defense. Actually, it was several people that I killed. It was a posse of sorts that was sent to hunt me down."

"Anyone else?" Charlie asked.

"I've killed bounty hunters, a serial killer, and the occasional intruder on my property. Not many more people." Jersey listed off.

"I see." Charlie wrote down a short list of Jersey's victims, a frown of concern on her doll-like face.

"I don't enjoy killing people." Jersey clarified firmly.

That was mostly true. His first kill, however, made him feel liberated for the first time in his life. Nothing could sway him from thinking otherwise.

"That's still a lot of blood." Charlie replied. Then she thought over one of the victims that he listed off. "Wait, you killed a serial killer?" That was not something good people did.

Jersey nodded. "It was just before spring. This fella had left behind bloody bodies over a path of destruction almost six hundred miles long."

Charlie and Vaggie were speechless.

Jersey continued. "He'd been killing for the better part of two years. Dozens of people were left with their throats cut open and most of their blood drained like rabbits at a butcher's market."

Vaggie's complexion became almost chalk-like at the description of the mass murderer in Jersey's account.

"His biggest mistake was passing through my turf when he was searching for new victims. I put him down by my own hands."

"How'd you kill him?" Vaggie asked, morbidly curious.

For a moment, Jersey thought of a good fib to tell. To describe how he effortlessly overpowered a mass murdering vampire, ripped his heart out, and burned it to ash using demonic magic would only invite curiosity as to how a normal human could accomplish such a violent, superhuman feat. "He was stalking me when I was gathering wood for a fire. Nights were still a bit chilly, you see. When I saw he was armed, I buried my wood axe into his chest, right where his heart was." For reference, Jersey pointed to a spot of his chest just to the left of his sternum.

"Santa mierda." Vaggie swore under her breath.

Jersey looked mildly offended. "Hey, what should I have done? Let him rip my neck open?"

Vaggie looked mildly abashed. This was the first time in years that someone understood her native language.

"Wait, how'd you know he was a serial killer?"

"When I killed him, the string of murders that had been traveling northward for the past two years just stopped after reaching southern New Jersey."

"You're from southern New Jersey?" Charlie asked.

"Wow, guess that explains the name. Kinda breaking the bank in creativity, don't you think?" Vaggie added with light sarcasm.

"Says the Spanish speaker who doesn't even have a Spanish name. Also, no offense, but where does Vagatha come from?"

Vaggie glared lightly at him.

Charlie steered the conversation back to rehabilitation. "Okay. No need to throw jokes at each other's expense."

Jersey lowered his head and sighed. It was pointless to get into a verbal fight with the best friend of his employer over a trivial matter as the name he chose when entering Hell. "Sorry, Vaggie."

Vaggie relaxed in turn. "Okay. Sorry about knocking you for your name."

With the feuding diffused, Charlie continued with her inquiry into the sins that Jersey participated in. "So, are there any other sins you committed?"

"Not particularly. Aside from the blood on my hands, I was well behaved in life." For a moment, Jersey seemed to ponder about that statement. "Well... I did steal some food as a boy. I also swiped one pistol from an armory once, but that was it. It was a time when I was homeless and desperate."

"You're not going to steal something from anyone of us right? Or from the hotel?" Vaggie questioned pointedly.

"I gain nothing from betraying your trust in me. Aside from extra clothing, I have everything I need right now. That is, unless both of you have men's fashion my size that you've been hiding from me." He finished with a jesting smile.

Charlie gave a light chuckle. "No, I don't think so." She appeared to consider something as she wrote down Jersey's summary of his sins. "Anything else of note?"

"No."

"Well, it seems our primary means of rehabilitating you will be... more difficult than most." The Princess explained, her tone shifting as if she was walking on proverbial eggshells.

"Just give me the straight diagnosis, Charlie. I promise I won't be offended."

"Well... it's not as if you can apologize to the people who killed you. It seems we need to habituate you to nonviolent actions when confronting other people, for a start. It's clear that we need to emphasize restraint. Taking another person's life is not going to be acceptable if you want to go to Heaven."

Jersey gave a disbelieving look. The sincerity and ignorance of the Princess' suggestion was endearing and laughable all at the same time. It wasn't that Jersey was opposed to non lethal tactics, it was the implication that some people should never be killed.

"So, even if someone is trying their hardest to take your own life, you think that there is always a way to stop them without resorting to lethal force..."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't defend yourself, but there are means to conduct oneself when faced with people trying to have a confrontation with you."

"A group of veritable bounty hunters trying to kill you for a profit is a bit more severe than a simple confrontation, Princess."

Charlie seemed to rethink her words. "I'm not, umm... I'm merely suggesting that if you can help it, you don't have to kill people."

With a chuckle, Jersey leaned forward in his seat. "Charlie, with all due respect, some actions just happen. If someone is trying to end my life, it's entirely natural that I will do what I can to stop them, even if my methods are a permanent solution." He explained with a misanthropic undertone.

"But, surely-"

"Charlie, let me explain it this way: some people deserve to be killed."

A moment of quietness followed the blunt explanation.

"What?" Charlie asked in legitimate sorrow.

"Some people deserve to die. Not everyone is an angel, Princess."

The two women sitting opposite him were stunned at Jersey's statement. Vaggie, for her part, at least considered Jersey's point, but Charlie looked affronted by the callous words coming from her newly hired staff member.

She lived through untold amounts of death all of her life. In spite of how young she looked and sounded, she had observed for millennia torrents of sinners, her own people, being reduced to bloody corpses by Heaven's Exterminators. Such wanton carnage was an injustice in Charlie's eyes.

To accept such a candid attitude towards killing people, even morally reprehensible people, was equally intolerable.

"No."

"No what?" Jersey asked.

"No one deserves to have their life taken away from them."

Jersey shook his head. He looked up, looking slightly tired by Charlie's pushback against what he considered a reasonable point. "I'd think dealing with a serial killer and a man who tormented me would be prime candidates to have their lives terminated."

Charlie took in another breath to calm herself down. She reminded herself that such rehab meetings were much less about judgement and more about encouraging sinners to do better. Once again, she sought to play the, pun intended, Devil's advocate.

"Look, I'm willing to grant you the defense arguments about the mass murderer who tried to take your life and the bounty hunters that were after you, but surely there was another way to deal with a man who treated you terribly. Maybe you could have appealed to his better nature, or-"

Jersey gave a humorless laugh. It was a cold sound that pierced the air of Charlie's office. It seemed a bit out of touch for the sinner who acted so straight-laced and courteous up until this point. "Better nature," Jersey muttered cynically, "as if it could ever be that simple."

For the first time in perhaps centuries, a feeling of bitterness radiated from Jersey's heart like a scornful fire spreading from the source of its ignition. Years of maltreatment flashed momentarily in Jersey's mind. His upset feelings struggled to be held back by his self imposed need for discretion. His fingers began to curl tightly over the arms of his chair, the muscles around his digits tensing visibly.

"I'll tell you this much: he had no intention of being 'better.' And if you think I'll just sit here and feel guilty about killing some self-serving bastard who abused me for years, you are sorely mistaken."

Vaggie looked stunned by Jersey's obstinacy. For a moment, she considered whether this was the real Jersey, not the pleasant handyman persona he had played over the last few days. She lowered an arm out of sight, using Jersey's distraction to summon her spear.

"What did he do to justify being slain?" Charlie asked with all seriousness, her tone louder and more accusing then she intended.

A deathly silence engulfed the room. For the first time since they first met, Jersey gave a cold glare Charlie's way. She for a moment, could have sworn that his emerald eyes turned the color of burning hot coals.

"He killed the only person I ever loved." Jersey muttered scornfully. Hatred, pure and chilled, dripped from his words as they left his lips.

All of the strength in Charlie left her. She slumped against her seat, feeling mournful about how she went about this first session with her latest tenant. "Jersey, I-"

"Forget about it." Jersey interrupted, his tone now clipped. He stood up from his seat and brushed himself down, his patience had quickly run out. "I have work to do. Then I have to go out and get more clothes once I have the money."

"Please Jersey, I'm sorry." Charlie stood up and tried to quickly head off the upset man trying to leave. She halted when he abruptly swung his upper torso towards her, his eyes leering angrily down at her. Charlie almost had to lean back to avoid being head butted by accident.

"I said, forget about it." Jersey growled, unwilling to move past the prying into his youth. "We're done. You hear me?"

Vaggie leapt to her feet. She quickly pointed her spear with intent to defend her girlfriend, its sharp head pointed right at Jersey's throat.

"Back off." She warned.

Jersey momentarily flinched. The spear head radiated with the same holy energy as the ones the Exterminators wielded. He questioned how she could have acquired such a lethal armament, but instead, he reeled back his vexation.

"We're done." Jersey repeated quietly. He turned about face and left the office, closing the door with a loud slam.

Charlie almost felt like crying. It was one thing for Angel to act in an immature or caustic manner during these sessions, but it was quite another for her to have a hand in pushing a patron to abandon a rehabilitation meeting. A slim hand was placed on her left shoulder.

"You okay?"

The Princess sighed through her petite nose. "I really don't know what I'm doing, do I?"

"Charlie, please." Vaggie stepped in front of her and the spear placed carefully on her desk. She placed her hands on Charlie's shoulders. "This is just another... what do people call it... a teething trouble."

"Teething trouble?" Charlie asked, her eyes ceased getting teary, instead looking confused.

"Yeah! Lots of new businesses and things like that have issues like these. It's still early. We have plenty of time to iron this stuff out."

Charlie still looked dejected. The silence was becoming palpable. "We need to talk to Alastor again."

Vaggie suddenly looked alarmed. "What?"

"I think it's time we had another discussion with him about how to go about rehabilitating other demons."

"Charlie, do you really think the Radio Demon of all people will have any clue of how to help other demons? You heard what he said when we first met him. He just wants to see us and any patrons we have fail. We don't need his input."

Still, Charlie looked as if she had conviction in her idea. "We don't necessarily have to take his advice. We just need to talk about whether this is a strategy we should bother using to redeem souls."

The one eyed Salvadoran became tense at having another discussion with someone so blatantly evil. "Can you blame me? I know his reputation as well as my goddamn spear. I can barely tolerate the fact that he frequents the hotel."

"Don't apologize for being worried." Charlie assured Vaggie with a little smile. "I'm just saying that we have no one else to turn to with regards to stuff like this, not even my..." She trailed off as a pained frown grew on her face again. After a moment, Charlie cleared her head of whatever doubt was stewing in her mind.

"Communication is important." Charlie asserted. "If Alastor has already put forth an effort to help with the Hotel, we need to be able to at least talk with him."

It was clear that the argument from Charlie, though valid, did nothing to ease Vaggie's misgivings about Alastor's potential influence on the Hazbin Hotel. The fact that he was unwilling to ask them about the name change before he altered it added another black mark on his ledger.

"Just don't expect me to play nice with him."

"If that was the case, I'd think you were being hypnotized." Charlie joked.

The two shared a laugh and a brief hug. Charlie looked past Vaggie towards the door where Jersey left. All she could hope was that he could at least give the hotel a chance, for his sake if nothing else.

As he walked hastily up to his room to grab the tools gifted to him, Jersey wanted to take the claw hammer and bash his own head in. He truly felt recalcitrant about his behavior with Charlie. If he were transparent about his thoughts, a vindictive part of him wanted to smack Charlie for her simple, but intrusive questions. But to even humor such an abhorrent action against one of the most magnanimous individuals he had ever encountered made him feel a sliver of nausea.

"You goddamn, overly private fool." There was a way to ask her to not prod him with such a direct question with such casualness without being an overbearing thug. "That was charming. A real class act in being an ass." He castigated himself quietly.

Things were going quite smoothly. He had living quarters, food, a job, and even some tolerable new acquaintances without the baggage of them being dragged potentially dragged into the hazards of associating themselves with him. In one meeting that barely lasted a few minutes, he had seemingly created a fissure that could jeopardize his standing at the hotel.

He did like Charlie as a person. As paradoxical as it was to have the literal Princess of Eternal Damnation being such a bundle of tender-heartedness, it was something that he admired about her. Even her friend had redeeming qualities; she was loyal, but not necessarily in a blind manner. Such companions were likely hard to come by in Hell of all places.

However, to hear Charlie talking about how he could have done things differently when he was a much younger man, he couldn't help but describe her proposed 'solution' as asinine. Even if she was ignorant of his suffering as a boy through no fault of her own, it was a sore thing to talk about. For a first session to rehabilitate his soul, it went far too fast for his liking.

Right now, Jersey wanted to distract himself with some work. He soon opened his room door and began searching for his toolset. Mulling over what could be accomplished, he recalled the various new LEDs that Charlie had purchased to improve the efficiency and lighting of the hotel. With a new resolve, his thoughts led him down to the kitchen.

It was not to eat a snack.

From his private study at his primary place of residence, Alastor was enjoying a Mary Pickford in one hand and an original copy of Ulysses in the other. The fireplace was roaring with heathy flames to his right. It was a nice morning to catch up on reading before he went to the hotel.

Pondering about his decision, it really was a pleasant opportunity to break the simple routine he had resigned himself to ever since the 1950s. The Princess and her frivolous ideas about redemption were the ideal backdrop to observe the unscrupulous inhabitants of Hell make utter fools of themselves right before his eyes. Alastor could even make it a kind of comedy hour on his own personal frequency for all of his listeners to enjoy. After all, there was still a considerable audience that preferred the class and elegance of his form of telecommunications as opposed to the flat screen faced bastard who fancied himself a businessman.

As his thoughts withdrew from the novel in his hand with the conclusion of another chapter, they began to draw towards the people who now made the Hazbin Hotel their abode. It was a truly unusual cast of characters.

Alastor was not entirely willing to admit it, but there was a genuine respect in his mind for the Princess. He admired her tireless energy and conviction, even if it was grossly misled by some absurd feeling of compassion.

Vagatha was a true spitfire if there ever was one. The only thing more amusing than her temper at times was her poorly executed attempts to intimidate him. She was to be a constant source of humor. He knew all too well the buttons he could push to make her erupt in apoplectic rage.

There was little to remark about either Husker or Niffty. They both integrated themselves with the hotel rather smoothly, albeit with some coercion on his part for the former.

Of course, not every interaction he had engaged in was either pleasant or mundane over the past few days. There was Angel Dust, a man who flaunted and presented his own body casually for sums of petty money. The man was utterly shameless, with his brazen flirtations and crude behavior. He was going to take some getting used to. It was a good thing that his "five foot rule" was conceived of as a means to limit any unwanted contact with anyone in his presence.

Then there was the latest newcomer. The sinner who called himself Jersey was quite the unexpected arrival. For a sinner so nondescript, he made a surprisingly clear impression before Alastor.

If what the young man said was true, he was one of the few sinners who immediately had a plan of action when presented with the opportunity of the Hazbin Hotel. Most who found themselves in Hell were too caught up in their own self loathing, pity, or confusion to ever achieve a smooth start to their afterlife in the realm of damnation. Even Alastor would admit that he was engulfed in shock when he found himself lying on the ground, naked and bewildered by his experience shortly after death. His reputation as the Radio Demon of infamy was not born in a single day, after all.

Jersey certainly composed himself well, even appeared to have a mind to keep things to himself. Yet he did reveal a few cards to Alastor without even realizing it. All demons both powerful and pitiful could access a form that revealed the extent of their demonic power. Yet he could not recall in over eighty years of being an Overlord of seeing a sinner who could transform into ordinary animals.

Jersey may have thought that his identity was left unseen by Alastor when he first laid eyes upon him. However, the power of the Loa that he drew from presented him with many unusual abilities. He could sense quite precisely that the demonic signature he sensed in the orange eyed serpent and Jersey were one and the same.

It had to have been Jersey transforming himself into a black snake to avoid being seen.

Such a power was not just novel, it was discreet, a perfect tool to lay low and observe one's enemies. It was a bit paradoxical that his apparent persona of the humble electrician was not entirely an act, but Alastor could just sense it, albeit with a significant amount of effort, that the man had more power than he was letting on. He had no doubt that such a non threatening presence was completely intentional.

The most telling aspect about Jersey was his eyes. Most who dared to cross paths with him either ran away with their tails between their legs or, at best, quivered in horror. Some, namely a certain rival of his, gave looks of hatred or contempt. Angel Dust, ever lustful and apparently unaware or uncaring of his infamous origins, was an exception. The porn star merely looked at him like another potential "customer."

However, Jersey's look was also quite distinct. It was, superficially, similar to Husker's typical leer. Only the manner of Jersey's gaze wasn't drunken or bitter. Even Husker could be reduced to cowering before him if given the right kind of threat. It was clear that Jersey considered Alastor a threat too, but instead of running away or overcompensating with vitriol or false bravado, his eyes showed a window into the mind of a soldier.

Jersey was not just looking at him with distrust. He was judging Alastor's capabilities and behavior, judging what he could do and how to capitalize on his weaknesses should he ever show him such vulnerability. It was new, having someone who respected how threatening he could be without being an utter coward about it.

It was almost as bemusing as the fiery nature of Vagatha. Except, there was a distinct difference: her ability to be a threat was limited to the glorified, black market poker that she sometimes wielded, whereas Jersey was an unknown quantity. It was clear that Jersey was seriously considering what actions to take against him if they should ever clash. Having never heard of Alastor up until they first interacted with each other, Jersey, at least, was making an effort to remain conscious of the bigger picture of things.

Of course, Jersey did not successfully mask himself entirely. Something in his eyes betrayed his assumption from the moment that they met that Alastor was a potential danger. Though his actions did not make an infallible strategy, it pointed to a mind keen for combating others. Jersey could either be a very overconfident, or very threatening new contender in the constant chess match that was the business of a typical Overlord.

It had been ages since Alastor had the opportunity to be challenged in such a way. If he played it right, he could evaluate all of Jersey's potency as a new sinner and prevent him from becoming too strongly affiliated with any of his enemies. Perhaps, if he found a means of holding something over Jersey, he could be coerced into his service as his third unwitting companion. This was not going to be easy; Jersey seemed the cautious sort, and Alastor made it a point to presume that, if not careful, he could invite his own undoing.

No Overlord worth his salt went on about his business without contingency plans. Those who lacked such plans ended up like some of his predecessors: as mere memories scattered to the wastes of Hell.

Alastor's eyes instinctively narrowed, his unwavering grin becoming predatory as he mulled over the future. "I'll have to keep an eye on him. Can't let a potent piece leave the chessboard or threaten the king. Heh heh he..."

He placed down the book and took a swig of his blood-mixed Pickford. There was more work to be done, and more amusement to be had.

Hello again.

This is another reminder that I will likely be slowing down my update schedule. However, the slowdown, at most, will only be by one week. This gives me all the time needed to produce new, quality chapters for your reading pleasure.

For those who might want more back story to the vampire confrontation mentioned by Jersey/Benjamin, I recommend reading Two Bats in Batsto. It's a High School DxD one shot that explains the actual story of Jersey's past encounter that he recalled to Charlie during his rehab session.

On a separate note, I am heartily glad that 2020 is over, and that we shall not be cursed by a worse year in 2021. Thank you very much to all of those who have been favoriting and following this story.

Until next time.