"I'll miss the newsroom, the smell of printer's ink, the deadline for the weekly report... the money to bribe the annoying old secretary at the bank across the street. But... that damned brat has far too much power... we barely survived an attack on our janitor... take a photo of this tragedy, OK?"
With a heavy sigh, Dylan Moore passed the small, aging camera to his assistant, while a hot breeze blew through one of the already destroyed windows of the newspaper office, making it clear once again that you don't need winter clothes or a thick coat in hell... not even for sentimental moments.
For years, Dylan ran the small newsroom, publishing an article once a week with the latest happenings in hell. He had always stayed under the radar of the more influential demons, never cared about having a large reach and wanted to pursue the work that he enjoyed when he was alive on earth and that ultimately landed him in hell.
As a human, Dylan wrote for a major magazine in New York City. He had become power-hungry, wanted to have the success of his colleagues who had often landed on the front page with their exciting stories. He created false headlines, changed facts and the thirst for recognition and the thrill of a story making waves finally drove him to commit murder and arrange the pieces of the puzzle in such a way that an innocent man ended up in prison.
Dylan had never felt remorse, after that event, more false stories came, Dylan had been able to work his way up... before he fell far too far. A policeman had pushed him out of the window after a confrontation... it had been his death sentence and his beginning in hell. Many decades had passed since then. The very small editorial team had once had another journalist, who was unfortunately killed in the second-to-last extermination. Now it was just Dylan and his assistant.
A quiet rustling and clattering made Dylan look up from all the wonderful reports that the deceased journalist had written and published and that he was thinking about, and bring him back to the here and now.
"Not like that, damn it?! You have to hold the camera away from your body! You haven't learned anything in all these years!"
Dylan groaned in annoyance and took the camera back from his assistant to demonstrate to her again , how precisely she had to hold the small device.
"First align it and then press the button. It's absolutely simple and...Amelia, are you actually listening to me!"
Dylan paused in his explanations of how much this camera meant to him and that it...like so much else in the small editorial office, came from another century...because Amelia didn't listen to him, she didn't even look at him and then knelt on the dusty floor, folded her small hands together and let out a quiet growl.
It was a warning signal from the girl , who had fallen victim to a horrific experiment so many decades ago and had ended up in hell for trying to defend herself.
One of her tasks was to protect Dylan...even though Dylan himself had never asked for it, Amelia had an amazing instinct to hear enemies who didn't mean well for Dylan.
In this case, it was the voice of none other than Velvette , who had just finished a live stream and was talking about how social media was better than any old newspaper.
"Hide, Lia! Now!" - Dylan hissed at the demon who didn't even reach his waist.
Amelia looked up at him abruptly and sulked dissatisfied, but then stood up and climbed onto one of the old wooden beams and hid in the semi-darkness on the shelf of the old, huge cupboard.
There she could help Dylan if necessary... and keep an eye on the situation.
It took less than three seconds , before Velvette pushed open the half-open door and, chewing gum, let her gaze wander disparagingly around the room.
"Oh my devil - you're still here!? Voxy wants to use the old shop as another office or something, so... you better get out of here quickly! Or the next attack will hit your ugly, 10-year-old jacket!" - Velvette had pulled out her cell phone and was typing something on the screen, she didn't even bother to speak the threat in Dylan's face.
"Is it called something different? OMG? And..."
"No demon says OMG, where do you live?! Oh my devil sounds better anyway... but it's no wonder you don't know something like that... as old as this... stupid newspaper!", Velvette laughed maliciously and Dylan just raised his camera a little without saying a word.
"Call me a sentimental old owl...but this office is...close to my heart...after this I'm leaving...no reason...to get Mr. Vox", Dylan just grumbled and Velvette gave him a look that meant something like - you're so fucking cringe!
Then she disappeared, not without provocatively throwing down an old vase that was on a small table near the desk.
The clatter made her malicious grin grow wider and you could already hear her talking on the phone in the hallway.
Dylan still caught a few scraps of words before Velvette left the building.
"...ready to dismantle the office into its individual parts!"
With a quiet curse at the influential overlords, Dylan finally snapped the photo himself and reached for the magic feather that had given him so many reports and worked with a little magic on his part.
It was one of the few things Dylan wanted to take with him...followed by Amelia, of course.
"Let's go, Lia. If the rumors about the Hazbin Hotel are true...we can stay there", Dylan called in the direction of the closet before taking the door to the hallway of the building.
Amelia climbed down from the cupboard and took one last look at her workplace.
The former experiment had spent all those years here, making coffee for Dylan or getting into tricky situations to get an exciting story for the weekly newspaper.
She had lived in the shadows since her arrival in hell and was so inconspicuous , that it was perfect for Dylan to take her undercover with him on reporting missions.
The demon knew how much her boss was attached to the editorial office.
But times are changing.
Hardly anyone listens to the radio anymore... TV and social media were now modern.
But there was something fascinating about old things.
Her gaze slid to the old hat stand.
There hung a gray hat with a single red rose and a skull close together.
Amelia grabbed the hat and stuffed it into her small shoulder bag , before following Dylan out into the streets.
"I'm not going to attempt rehabilitation of my dark soul...but hotels are fucking cheap! It seems Princess Morningstar needs every guest...or wicked Soul i guess?"- Dylan muttered as he closed the front door to the building behind him.
"Hotel safe? No Stranger-Danger?" Amelia said cautiously.
Dylan nodded thoughtfully.
"I hope...if not, we'll somehow get through it...like always," Dylan tried to dispel Lia's concerns.
"Dylan not alone", Lia claimed and jumped onto the small suitcase , that Dylan had brought outside with him.
"Thank you not any longer Lia...it's best to go into the suitcase...if this stupid scientist is in hell too, I want to know that you're safe this time", Dylan asked and after Lia jumped down from the suitcase, the editor opened it and fished out a half-broken little necklace with a pendant in the shape of a butterfly on it.
It belonged to Amelia and enabled her to communicate in complete sentences when she wore it.
She hadn't always been so limited; it has to do with her death and her arrival in hell.
When she wears this necklace, she can formulate several sentences in a row.
"Put it on, it could help us", Dylan added, and the power of the collar and the pendant would... certainly be helpful... even if the demon planned to keep Lia hidden for the time being... to save money on a room and to have peace and quiet.
Some of the inhabitants of hell were child-friendly... it got on his nerves, when he wanted to have peace and quiet and Amelia also kept a low profile , when it came to attention.
She didn't trust new faces so quickly.
The suitcase was closed and the duo made their way to the Hazbin Hotel.
But Dylan didn't get far.
At a crossroads, some of the souls he had told a few fake stories to over the past decades, thus ruining their reputation and name, recognized him.
"There's the asshole!"
"Hey Dylan! We still have a word to talk with you!"
"Stop, you fucking Bitch!"
Dylan tried to disappear...but his angry victims surrounded him, kicked his suitcase away and beat the demon until he lay on the floor in pain...they kicked him until he became unconscious and the inhabitants of hell, took his suitcase with them.
So Dylan did not see how Amelia was taken away - trapped in the suitcase.
The darkness enveloped Dylan and he did not noticed, how the princess of hell scoured the streets to look for injured souls and souls in need of help after the day of extermination...and she found Dylan and decided to give him accommodation in the Hazbin Hotel.
So it was that one day later, when Dylan opened his eyes in horror and looked into the broad, grinning, friendly face of Charlotte Morningstar.