Moxxie handed the driver his money and a magazine.
"Thanks, bitch!" he hollered.
The next thing he knew, Moxxie was alone on the streets of Pentagram City. Millie had already told him to be careful. He had already filled her in about the job and where he was going. Hopefully, if all went well, Millie could join him.
Above his head, the eyes of a large key stared down at him like a judgmental god. The building's material carried an ashen red. Vibrant yellow lights ran up and down the foundation like streetlights on Broadway. A large, rectangular tower ran from the base of the hotel. On the right side, he could make out the bow of a pirate ship sticking out from the scaffolding, barnacle-encrusted wood comprising the bulk of the structure. Towards the top he spotted a radio tower. A single antenna ran from a glass hexagon and pointed high into the sky, almost reaching to the base of the sulfur clouds.
Moxxie had never seen anything like it. Regrettably, that had been his first time in Pentagram City. Aside from a fire on the side of the road near the city limits, he was pleasantly surprised by how put-together everything seemed. He would never have imagined that a battle of biblical proportions had taken place there just a few months ago.
His palms began to sweat as he approached the door. How was an imp like him supposed to approach a princess? Princess Morningstar was the second-most powerful being in all of Hell. Moxxie was nothing more than a lowly imp trying to run away from his problems. What if she saw right through him? Sure, the Happy Hotel was all about redemption, but that redemption was for sinners. Moxxie had no reason to believe that he would be allowed inside.
Showing up to the door with a gun likely wouldn't help his image. Maybe the better option was to turn back. Then again, it had taken him six hours' pay and a magazine to get there. Wouldn't it be foolish for him to waste such an opportunity?
A voice called out to him a moment later.
"Hello?"
Moxxie recoiled from shock as he realized the front door to the hotel had already been opened.
In the doorframe stood a tall woman, probably eight or nine feet if Moxxie could guess. She wore a signature red suit with long pants that matched. Blonde hair ran down the back of her head and around halfway past her shoulders. A handful of black spots dotted her otherwise pale white face.
She flashed him a smile. Moxxie knew that smile.
Morningstar.
It was one thing to watch somebody on TV. It was another to walk up to their door and speak with them. Moxxie placed his gun on the ground and put his hands in the air as he struggled to catch his breath. Shortly thereafter, he bowed towards the princess and waited for her to speak to him again.
"Well," Princess Morningstar said with a light chuckle, "Can't say I've ever had anyone bow to me before."
Moxxie nervously lifted his head.
"Pardon me?" he asked.
The princess flashed him yet another inviting smile before her eyes drifted to the gun resting on the ground.
"Should I ask about that?" she asked.
Moxxie stumbled over his words as he struggled to explain himself, "N-No, your majesty! This isn't what it looks like! I was…I was here for the job posting? For a security guard?"
Almost forgetting about the gun, the princess shook her fists in giddy excitement.
"YESS!" she said, speaking a mile a minute while running to Moxxie and grabbing him lightly by the shoulders, "We've been waiting for someone to take the job! Things are getting weird around here, you know, with all of the power-hungry overlords and stuff. Don't say anything like that too loud, though. Vox has cameras all over the city and he'll probably get mad if we say anything bad about him-"
Moxxie tried to interject as she paused to breathe, "Princess-"
"-Oh, you don't need to call me princess. My name is Charlie, and from now on, you'll be calling me that. You don't have to do any of that weird royal stuff with me. I'm just happy someone finally took the job."
Towards the end of her rambling, Charlie's speech slowed down enough so that Moxxie could understand it. He was aware of her bubbly and antic disposition. However, there was only so much that somebody could pick up over television. It was like having a conversation with a marshmallow.
"Well," Moxxie said as he raised his hand for a handshake, "Thank you, Charlie. I'm excited to work for you."
Charlie took a breath and composed herself, "You too. Sorry, I'm just excited. We don't get a lot of new faces around here. What's your name?"
"Moxxie. I'm here from the wrath ring. Marksman looking for a job."
"Well, you've come to the right place. Come inside. I want to show you around!"
Moxxie, noticing the faint outlines of storm clouds on the horizon, happily took Charlie up on the offer.
"Where would you like me to put my weapons?" Moxxie asked, motioning to not only his handheld gun, but the various other boxes of supplies from the office.
"Just leave them in the lobby," Charlie said, "I'll make sure nobody goes after them."
Moxxie set the boxes down on the other side of the front door.
Her eyes were wide and expressive. Coupled with the singsong voice, it was hard to imagine that she had led the resistance movement in Pentagram City. He had watched the whole thing live with Millie. They were sure that Hell was done for. For such a high-ranking princess, Moxxie thought she was a bit too cordial for her own good. Somebody that kind was bound to have been taken advantage of. Moxxie didn't approve of it, in fact, it kept him up at night. Alas, it was how Hell worked. Nothing Moxxie did would have any effect on it.
The inside of the hotel was even more grandiose and lavish than Moxxie had expected. The lobby consisted of a large red carpet decorated with various demonic designs. To his right was a series of couches and tables that acted as a lounge. To his left, a begrudged cat-looking demon chatted with a famous pornstar at a makeshift bar filled to the brim with expensive wines. A second story balcony wrapped around the walls, preceded by a finely carpeted staircase.
"This place is incredible…" Moxxie said as he took in the sights, "It looks like something out of a Broadway show."
Charlie nodded eagerly, "Yep! It took us FOREVER to build it back up. But we did it, and the Haz-I mean, Happy Hotel is back and better than ever!"
The crowd was about as big as Moxxie would have expected. A hotel in hell centered around redemption, unsurprisingly, didn't attract a lot of attention. It was a shame. Hell could use a moral compass, as much of an oxymoron as that statement was. Charlie was a diamond in the rough. The juxtaposition was almost poetic. How could the daughter of the evil incarnate be one of hell's purest souls? Moxxie had only been around her for a couple of minutes and he trusted her.
"Those two over there," Charlie said, pointing to the bar, "The one with the hat is Husk. He's our bartender. The tall one is Angel Dust. He's…he's our only resident."
"Really?" Moxxie asked.
"Even with the battle under our belt, things have been slow around here. Everybody else here is hotel staff."
Moxxie watched as a short cyclops-resembling demon ran past him with a dustpan in their hands, frantically sweeping away any dust that dared to pollute the pristine floors of the Happy Hotel.
"Sorry, sorry!" the demon said in a quick, high-pitched, yet slightly uneasy voice, "Can't let it get dirty! Dirty things are evil! And I HATE DIRTY THINGS!"
The demon disappeared a moment later like a leaf in a storm.
"That's nifty," Charlie said, leading Moxxie towards a pink couch in the center of the lobby, "She's our custodian. She…she can be a bit much."
"No kidding," Moxxie replied.
She patted the seat next to her. Moxxie took that as a signal to sit down and did so promptly. He kept his posture rigid as his legs leaned up against the base of the cushion.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," Charlie said with a laugh, "I promise. Relax a little."
Moxxie sighed and allowed his back to slump. He had to admit, after spending the better part of eight hours in the back of a taxi, the silk cushions felt like laying on a cloud.
"Husk!" Charlie said with a faint hint of authority mixed with playfulness, "Can you bring us a couple of drinks?"
"Whatever," a deep, monotone voice responded, "What do you want?"
She glanced at Moxxie, "Any preferences?"
"Are you sure you want me drinking on the job?" Moxxie asked.
"Consider this your orientation. I want to get to know every single person that works in this hotel, and now, you're one of us!"
A woman with a gray complexion and a missing eye played with Charlie's hair as she passed by.
"Did you finally get us a security guard?" the woman asked.
Charlie nodded.
The woman smirked as she prepared to walk away, "Good luck with this one, Mr. Marksman. It's like getting strangled by a rainbow."
"Hey!" Charlie shot back.
"I never said I didn't like it."
She snuck a kiss on the woman's forehead before they parted ways.
"Hey!" the bartender called out from a distance, "What fuckin' drinks do you want?!"
As if nudging Moxxie towards a decision, Charlie stared at Moxxie for a moment in silence. All Moxxie could do was run through the list of drinks he knew and try to come up with the least expensive one. It would be rude of him to take advantage of their generosity.
"Um…" Moxxie stammered, "I…I don't-"
"Husk, we'll have two Merlots!" Charlie called out.
Husk sighed, "Whatever you say."
No. He couldn't let Charlie do that. Merlot, at least in Imp City, was a luxury. Something that only the higher-ups had. Moxxie would be lucky if he could get his hands on some secondhand beer. Charlie was a generous soul. He knew that type well. They would give and give until they were all out. People like Charlie had to have limits, because those who stole had none.
"N-No," Moxxie said.
Charlie raised an eyebrow, "Why? Do you not like it?"
"No, I do like it! I just…don't think I should be drinking something so expensive. Especially on company time."
Wiping sweat from his forehead, Moxxie suddenly regretted his words. He had made a mistake. The first impression was the first part of landing a job. He couldn't make himself seem weak. Not in front of the Princess of Hell! It felt like no matter what he said, he would only worsen his image.
His hands sat in his lap as he nervously picked the skin off of his fingers.
"Where did you come from?" Charlie asked.
"Imp City," Moxxie replied, "Why? Is something wrong?"
"Well, I'm trying to give you some of our house wine, and you're looking at me like I just shot a puppy."
"I'm sorry-"
"Listen, Moxxie. I don't know how they do things in Imp City. But here at the Happy Hotel, we give what we can. We've got enough money to buy a hundred bottles of that Merlot. My father is Lucifer, remember? Don't worry about it."
Somehow, he still didn't trust it. He had spent too many years around Blitzo to trust anything good that came from a higher-up. Why was she treating him like an equal? They were sitting on the same couch, drinking the same wine, and talking about something other than work. He was supposed to be under her command. The Princess of Hell of all people should have understood that!
Husk brought the wine over and passed a glass to Moxxie. The damn thing was almost as big as his head! He had never seen anything like it. The wine flowed back and forth like an ethereal river of fine alcohol, small beads of the crimson substance finding themselves attached to the sides of the glass and running down like blood.
"No pressure to drink," Charlie said, raising a glass to a toast, "To the Happy Hotel, and our newest employee!"
The duo clinked glasses. Moxxie took a sip of his drink, the booze running down his throat and warming him after a long cold night in a taxi. A night that, had it not been for his driver taking a generous shot of vodka, would have only lasted for an hour."
"I hope you're not an alcoholic," Charlie said, "Drinking in moderation is fine. But if you have a predisposition, you should probably stop."
"I'm fine. I don't have much time to drink back home."
"Now, tell me more about home."
"Why do you want to know more about me?"
"Why not? We don't get a lot of new faces around here."
He was weary, but he continued.
Moxxie knew his limit. He could have two glasses before he started to get tipsy. Of course, he had no intention of going past one. Getting drunk so early on would probably get him fired.
"Well," Moxxie said, hoping the alcohol would soothe his frayed nerves a little bit, "I already told you I'm from Imp City. I live in an apartment with my wife, Millie-"'
"Oooh!" Charlie said in a playful tone, "Is she pretty?"
Moxxie smiled, "Yeah, actually. She is. She's the most beautiful woman in the world, physically and emotionally. She's perfect."
"Aww…"
He cleared his throat, "...Anyways, we live in an apartment on Peccatum street. It's not great, but we pay the bills. Barely."
"You had a job in Imp City, right?"
"Yeah."
"What was it?"
It hit him at that moment that the answer to that question wasn't a pleasant one. How could Moxxie explain to the queen of redemption that his job was killing sinners on Earth. Sure, in Hell, one's moral compass was always a bit off, never truly pointing north, but Moxxie's deeds might as well have placed him at the south pole.
He took just a bit too long to think about it. Charlie noticed.
"I don't care what it was," Charlie said, "It's Hell. I don't expect people to be perfect."
"If you insist," Moxxie sighed, "I worked for I.M.P. The Immediate Murder Professionals. We had sinners in Hell pay us to kill their enemies on Earth. Not the cleanest line of business, but I needed money."
There was no pause before Charlie's response, "So, that's where you learned to shoot?"
"You don't have a problem with that?"
"I mean, I don't like it, but it's not the worst thing ever. I don't care. By walking in here and not blowing the place up, you're already better than half of the demons we've run into."
"Well, thank you. I hope I can prove myself."
"Prove yourself? You've already got the job?"
"Excuse me?"
Moxxie wondered if he was laying on the wine a bit too heavy.
"What? Did you think I'd fire you after you came all the way out here, weapons and all?" Charlie asked, "No. You proved your worth to me by showing up at the door. As long as you're not some sort of spy, we're gonna be fine."
"How do you know I'm not a spy?"
"I don't. I'm trusting you."
"How'd that work out for you last time?" Husk remarked from across the lobby.
"It was ONE TIME! And he got with the program eventually!"
"Yeah, and then he fucking died."
Moxxie did not know, nor did he care to know, whom they were talking about.
He took another sip of the wine. Smooth jazz floated down from a radio mounted on the balcony. The faint smells of breakfast broke the air as the gray woman from before emerged from a side door with a plate of eggs.
Only then did Moxxie realize how early it was. Great. He was becoming a morning drinker.
"That's Vaggie," Charlie said, pointing to her, "We've been seeing each other for a bit. She's a fantastic cook. Same with Angel dust. Without them, we'd be ordering takeout every night."
"You can't just like, magically make the food appear?" Moxxie asked.
"I mean, I could, but there's no soul in food like that."
"At least you have the option."
"I'm guessing money's a bit tight?"
Moxxie rolled his eyes, "You could say that. Most of our dinners are microwaved."
Charlie set her glass down on the table between them and stood up, "I'll be right back."
Before Moxxie could even ask where she was going, Charlie disappeared into a back room. The wine in her glass swished around for a few minutes before finally becoming still.
Without fail, his mind leapt back to that dark and stormy night. With twelve hours and fifty miles between them, the wounds were fresh. He thought about Millie. Running away to Pentagram City might not have been the best choice. After all, she was stuck at I.M.P. alone with their short-tempered, forever-a-bridesmaid boss.
He pulled out his phone and tried to type up a message without anybody seeing him.
"Hey, honey. Just got to Pentagram City. They gave me the job. I think I like it here! Are you doing okay?"
Not even ten seconds later, she responded.
"That's amazing, hun! Things at the office are still a bit rough, but he's not mad at me. Are the folks nice up there?"
"You wouldn't believe it. They gave me free wine. Merlot."
"Wow! They're rich up there, aren't they?"
"Yep."
He heard Charlie's footsteps returning.
Moxxie quickly typed out his last message, "They're coming back to talk to me. I'll get back to you. Love you!"
"You too, Mox."
Lightly tapping against the carpeted floor, Charlie's shoes preceded her arrival. She handed an envelope to Moxxie as she sat down.
"What's this?" Moxxie asked.
"Why don't you open it?"
Even the paper was ornate. Soft, silk-like material ripped beneath Moxxie's finger as he pulled it along the edge of the envelope.
His eyes widened once he saw its contents.
"Charlie," Moxxie said, shaking his head, "I can't take this…"
"That's your pay for your first day," Charlie replied, "I'll give it to you upfront. Never hurts to have a few extra souls laying around."
"A few extra? This is more than I make in a week!"
The vermillion bills rested uncomfortably against his fingers. Altogether, Charlie had given him three hundred and fifty souls. To somebody like Charlie it wasn't a lot. To Moxxie, it felt like he had found the pot of gold on the other side of the rainbow.
"We pay our employees well," Charlie said, "That's for a seven-hour patrol around the perimeter of the building. Things have gotten tense around here with the overlords. There are some turf wars going on, and I don't want us getting involved."
"I beg your pardon, but do you really think walking around and shooting people is going to make that any better?"
"My hope is that you don't have to shoot anyone. Somebody walking around outside with a gun should scare people away. You probably know how I feel about killing people."
"What if I get attacked? Am I allowed to shoot?"
"If you get attacked, or you think you're going to be, the gloves are off. You have to protect yourself and this hotel. You seem nice. I trust you to make that judgment."
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
He glanced back down at the bills in his hands.
"Well, Charlie, before I get to work," Moxxie said, "Is it okay if I have Millie up here for a bit? Things at the office back home aren't going great. Plus, I want to give her some of the money."
"Of course!" Charlie said, smiling brightly once again, "I can't wait to meet her!"
He still had about half of his glass to finish. Charlie had about the same. He tried to keep his wine level with hers, not wishing to eat into any more of her time than he had to. Being Princess of Hell, Moxxie imagined, was a taxing job. There was only so much exhaustion that a bubbly persona could hide.
"Thank you," Moxxie said, "I think she'll like it."
"You both are free to stay here if you want to," Charlie replied, "We have more than enough spare rooms."
"Fantastic."
Charlie took another sip from her glass. Moxxie copied her.
"If I'm allowed to ask," Charlie started, "What happened with your old job that made you come here? Sounds like you had a good thing going."
There it was.
Hours later, the marks from Blitzo's hands remained on his neck. Never before had he seen Blitzo in such an agitated state. Even at his worst, he had never laid his hands on Moxxie. Not once.
There was also the mystery of their attacker. How did Moxxie know that they wouldn't come back? Even more pressing: Why had they come in the first place? It only made him further regret his decision to leave Millie at the office. He would have to find a way to make it up to her.
He swallowed hard, "It's complicated. My boss and I had a massive falling out."
Overhead, the volume of the jazz music increased dramatically, as if mirroring his own internal distress. It faded away not long after.
"I'm sorry about that," Charlie said, kicking back and crossing one of her legs across the chair, "Are you doing alright?"
"I mean, I have three hundred souls, a new job, and, from the looks of it, a healthy work environment. Once Millie gets here, there's not much more I can ask for."
"Well, if you need anything, come to me or the rest of our staff."
"I'll keep that in mind."
The pair took another sip, bringing their glasses down towards the quarter-full mark.
"So," Moxxie said, "I've told you about me. What about you? It's not every day that I get to talk to the Princess of Hell!"
Charlie gave him a nervous smile, as if she was only just finding out about her position,
"It's a stressful job," she said, still smiling through gritted teeth, "I started this hotel to get away from the royal life for a bit. I had a vision, and here we are. We're still working at getting more residents, but we're already doing better than I thought that I would."
"Your ads are everywhere. I heard about this job while I was in a taxi."
"That's great! I just wished that more sinners would come here."
"They'll get here. You just need another popularity boost."
"As if defeating the exterminators wasn't enough…"
"What about a catchy jingle? We have one at I.M.P."
"Maybe…"
He could tell that the lack of clients was a point of contention. Moxxie decided to change the subject.
"Well…" Moxxie trailed off, "You seem like a busy woman. Do you ever get time to relax? You know, to do things just for fun?"
"I don't get a lot of free time. But, when I do, I like to write songs. Make music. I learned piano when I was young, and I got my soprano voice from my mother."
"Lilith, right?"
"Yep."
"So you have a gift?"
"Something like that, sure. I wrote a song to advertise the hotel a few months back. Didn't go over that well."
"Hey, I get it. I do music too. I play guitar and I sing tenor. I got thrown out of a club the last time I tried to perform."
"House of Asmodeus, by any chance?"
"How did you-?"
"Oh, no reason."
He had more in common with a princess than he did Blitzo. To Moxxie, that spoke volumes. He found it refreshing to have a conversation with somebody about his interests. Blitzo would have interrupted him and told him to get back to work before he got a word out.
"I'll have to show you some of my old recordings sometime," Charlie laughed, "If I ever have time to do it."
The pair exchanged a final laugh and finished their drinks. Following that, Moxxie went back to the front door to retrieve his gun. Charlie wheeled the rest of Moxxie's belongings to a small office just behind the bar.
"I'm going to call Millie," Moxxie said, "Is that okay?"
"You don't have to ask permission to call your wife, Moxxie." she replied.
Moxxie dialed her number.
"Hello?" Millie's voice said, "Mox?"
"Hey, Millie!" Moxxie replied, "Good news. Charlie said that you can come up here if you want. It's beautiful! You're going to love it!"
"Aww, that's awesome, Mox! I'll be over tonight!"
"Really? That fast?"
"Yeah. All I gotta do is finish the kill for the day, and I'll be right over. Blitzo doesn't have to know."
"Alright, then. See you then, honey! I've gotta get to work!"
Moxxie hung up the phone and made his way to the doormat.
"If you need any of your other things," Charlie said, "They'll be in there. Again, feel free to stay in any of our open rooms if you need a place to stay."
"Thank you," Moxxie said, picking up his gun, "I appreciate it."
"Of course. Your shift starts now. Good luck, and thank you!"
Charlie opened the door and allowed Moxxie to step through. The urban musk of Pentagram City hit him a moment after. After taking in the intoxicating stench of sulfur and rotting corpses, Moxxie took his first right turn and began his patrol.