[Content Warning: Violence, Mentions of Child SA. A TLDR has been provided at the end of the chapter for those who wish to skip ahead, but continue the story.]

The Hazbins glanced nervously at Elida's stone-faced demeanor. Normally, when she was brewing, she was as expressive as a mad scientist. But after the blizzard, she kept her face blanker than an empty page. When the braver guests asked her where she'd sent Alastor, she just made uncomfortable eye contact with them until they slowly backed away. She didn't speak a word to anyone for three days.

Up on Earth, Purg stopped fighting. He couldn't move. He couldn't cry. All he could feel was pain. The wasps crawled across his skin, buzzing and stinging with impunity. All he could see was a single speck of light through the air tunnel. He could hear his attacker humming and taunting him from above.

He was thirsty. His throat was so dry he felt like he'd swallowed the very wasps who tormented him. His stomach growled mercilessly. Purg resented the air that wafted in from his sparse window. If only he'd suffocated; then this would have been over in a matter of hours. Why was this happening? Who was this horrible shadow man and why had he come? When would he be released to the void? When would it end?

Finally, after three days of suffering, Judas Purg closed his mortal eyes for the last time.

And then he was falling.

Down,

Down,

Down,

Deeper,

Into the dark.

The further he fell, the hotter it got. His skin burned. No… Not his skin… his fur. The limbs that flailed futilely through his descent were covered in a drab grey-brown fluff. And that fluff was on fire. He couldn't scream anymore. He'd screamed too much in the past few days. Instead, he allowed tears to fall as freely as his descent into madness.

Surely, he'd cracked; or he was having the worst nightmare his mind could conjure. His body felt so off. His bones were the wrong shape. What was happening? Where was the oblivion his atheism had promised? Would he ever wake up?

When he hit the ground, a strange squeak forced its way out of his throat. It didn't sound like him, but it had definitely come from him. Groaning from the ordeal, he rolled over, trying to pick himself up. Blinking the dizziness from his eyes, Purg found a pair of paws where his hands should be.

He looked around. He was surrounded by horrible monsters, all falling to the ground seeming just as horrified and confused as he was. Some were screaming, others were crying, and a few were rocking back and forth in a ball like they were trying to make the bad dream go away. Every second more monsters fell from the sky, landing on the ground with sickening cracks.

Purg tried to run, only to trip over a pair of huge, fuzzy feet. What had happened to his toes? He scrambled out of the way just in time to avoid a monster landing right on top of him. He coughed and sputtered on thick smoke as he tried to find cover.

Finally, he shoved his way out of the crowd and ducked into a back alley, pinning his distorted body against a slimy brick wall. He panted and clutched his racing heart. What was this place?

While Judas Purg tried to understand his new situation, the Radio Demon sensed his latest deal taking effect. Purg was dead. About time. Alastor had been getting bored. Drawing his shadow into himself, he dismissed the spell that had kept his form bound to the mortal realm. The familiar smell of blood and brimstone greeted him as he returned to the dark pit from whence he'd come. Home sweet home!

He faded into the shadows, traveling to the spot where all demons first fall into Hell. Alastor chuckled at the screaming scum falling from the sky. He'd been so busy helping souls ascend that he'd nearly forgotten how hilarious it was when they fell for the first time. There was so much confusion. And it was a great spot to prowl for new deals, should he be so inclined. But that wasn't what brought him there this time. He had a lady to please.

The Radio Demon snapped his fingers, summoning a small army of voodoo dolls. They twitched and chittered, excited by the chaos and ready to do their master's bidding.

"Find Judas Purg," Alastor instructed, "and bring him to me."

The simple-minded monsters did so, following the thread of magic that linked their master to his newest plaything. When they'd located the pitiful creature, Purg was cowering behind a pile of rotten garbage. They seized him, dragging his kicking and screaming soul toward his new owner.

"Let me go! What are you doing? Get away from me!" Purg struggled to free himself from the creepy little dolls' hands, but it was no use. They held him above their heads, as if he were an unwilling crowd surfer. He was carried away from the drop zone, and then dumped unceremoniously on the ground.

A strange voice that sounded as if it were coming out of an old speaker greeted him, "Judas Purg, long time no see. Welcome to Hell! How was the coffin? Cozy?"

Purg looked up, and his eyes went wide. "You…"

"Yes. Me." The tall, grinning man reached down, wrapping fingers as sharp as knives around Purg's throat. "So, you're a hare, now. How fitting, considering you're nothing but vermin." Purg's murderer lifted him into the air. His feet dangled helplessly, just like before. He chose not to try kicking again. He didn't want another broken leg.

"You know," Alastor said, "That seems rather appropriate. After all, it's tradition for a soul to choose their eternal name upon their death. Some, such as myself, keep the names we had in life. But most abandon their old names and make themselves anew. I'll spare you the trouble, shall I? Your new name is Vermin. Whadd'ya think?"

"Forget that," a small rebellious part of him dared to say. "I won't g-"

Alastor's fingers tightened around Vermin's tiny neck, cutting off his sentence, "Oh, I think you'll come to agree. As your new master, I hereby order you to go by the name Vermin. Now, when I say, 'Hello, my name is Alastor,' you respond with…?"

Choking through Alastor's squeezing fingers, the ex-schoolteacher felt the compulsion to reply with, "My name is Vermin."

"Good bunny," Alastor condescended. "Now, follow me. I have someone for you to meet."

He dropped Vermin on the ground and began walking away. Vermin tried to run the other direction, but he found his feet were forced to follow his attacker. He struggled to keep up with the significantly taller man.

"What's happening to me," he asked, "Why can't I control my own limbs?"

"Ha ha ha! You signed your soul away," Alastor said with a sinister smile, "You are incapable of disobeying me. Though, I'm not the one you should be worried about right now."

"What? Who could be worse than a psycho like you?"

"Why, little Vermin, that would be a psycho like me with a personal vendetta against you!" A laugh track played at his words, but Vermin didn't think any of this was particularly funny.

His killer tapped a finger on a strange, almost yonic-shaped staff before speaking into it, "Oh, dearest… Guess what I have for you!"

A soft, sweet-sounding voice responded from within the staff, "Is it world peace?"

"Ha ha, no, silly," Alastor laughed, his smile shifting from frightening to genuinely happy, "I have that package you ordered. How would you like it delivered? Gift wrapped? Impaled on a spit? Sliced up and on a plate? I could make you a nice rabbit stew, if you like." His words made Vermin tremble uncontrollably.

"Blindfolded and gagged, please," the sweet voice replied.

"Yes, ma'am. Although, I'd much rather see you blindfolded and gagged," he flirted.

After a brief pause, the voice replied, "…That was the dirtiest thing I've ever heard you say." She sounded amused, "Do it again."

"Only if you're a good girl," he said.

"Mmm… Yes, daddy."

Alastor's staff disappeared with a wave of his hand, "Well then, that's enough of that. Come, Vermin."

Alastor wiggled his fingers, and his new pet was both blind and silenced. Grabbing the tiny new demon by his rabbit ears, Alastor faded into the shadows, taking the two of them to the Hazbin Hotel. Waving cheerfully to the guests taking a smoke-break, Alastor walked through the front door. It was lucky Charlie was elsewhere; she likely would have taken issue with dragging a tied-up soul so openly through the facility. Everyone else gave him and Vermin horrified looks, but were too scared to say anything.

He found Elida in his own room. She sat at his fireplace, examining a rather unique potion vial. Alastor recognized it as one of the brews from her lockbox. It gleamed like a liquid mirror, reflecting Elida's angelic glow beside the firelight. He wondered what it would do.

"Special delivery for a special lady," Alastor declared cheesily, holding Vermin up like a sack of garbage.

Elida turned to look at her partner and his quarry. She offered him her first smile in days, "Thank you, Allie. You're so good to me."

"One can only strive to be worthy of one so radiant as you," he said, tossing Vermin at her feet just like he said he would. "Now, what are we going to be doing with this filth. Shall I introduce you?"

"Not yet," she instructed, examining her enemy's new form. "Hurt him. Then, when he's about to break, come find me."

"With pleasure," Alastor's smile widened and his evil eyes flashed in anticipation. "Out of curiosity, what did he do to upset you so thoroughly?"

Elida leaned in, whispering in Alastor's ear. She told him what she'd seen in the human world, and why it had made her so angry. It made Alastor angry, too. He detested people who hurt innocent souls.

"In that case, I'll give him," Alastor's voice changed from cheerful to terrifyingly distorted, "extra special treatment."

Vermin heard all this, unable to run or defend himself. He was at this mystery woman's mercy, and it seemed she would be giving him none. His blindfold was wet with tears as he felt his limbs being strapped to some sort of device.

And that's when the real pain started. It began with a series of electric shocks, each one varying in intensity until his entire body twitched uncontrollably. When his captor grew bored with that, Vermin felt the tail he didn't know he had being torn off with some kind of metal tool. This was followed by a variety of crushed bones, torn flesh, and what seemed to be acid melting parts of his face off.

His captor had the courtesy to remove his blindfold and gag once the woman he'd been speaking to was gone, allowing Vermin to beg for mercy with all the futility of trying to stop a speeding train with your bare hands. Each time he thought he'd die, Alastor would pour a healing potion down Vermin's throat to prevent him from being freed into the sweet release of second-death. For the first time ever, Vermin deeply regretted screwing all those kids.

Alastor drank in his new plaything's pain with a sick satisfaction. Demons who'd hurt kids were his favorite souls to torture. Scum like that deserved worse than just a little Hell. They deserved to be torn apart and have their screams broadcast for the whole world to hear. He'd have sent this piece of trash straight to his special station if Elida didn't clearly have something already planned for him.

Vermin folded almost immediately under torture. Clearly, he was a weak little man with a weak little will. But Alastor was able to play with him for a few days before it was time for Elida's turn. Normally, Alastor's victims' screams would slowly taper off into whimpers and haunted stares before he finally sent them off to regeneration. He'd cycle through the souls he owned, offering them a chance to hope they'd been forgotten before pulling them in again. But he couldn't do that here; Elida had asked for him to be near breaking, not already broken. And Elida got what Elida wanted.

Alastor loosened the blood-splattered straps holding Vermin in place. "Well, buddy-boy, looks like you'll be getting a little break," he lied, "so we'll move you from the rack to the cage for now."

Picking Vermin up by his newly-broken leg, something Alastor only did for irony's sake, he tossed him into an animal cage in the corner. He secured the latch with a large bronze lock. Snapping his fingers, a bowl of rabbit pellets appeared in the cage. Vermin glanced at it, arms wrapped protectively around himself. Was he hungry enough to eat pet food?

"Enjoy your dinner, Vermin old pal! I'll be back when I feel like it. Do give a squeak if you need anything."

Vermin watched Alastor go. His captor was a chatty torturer. He had a habit of making macabre jokes and singing upbeat songs while he tore Vermin apart. It was hard to pay attention through all the pain, but Vermin was an educator, and thus was of the opinion that knowledge was power. He hoped that Alastor, or as he's apparently known in some circles, the 'Radio Demon', would let slip something that could help Vermin escape.

So far, he'd managed to gather a few tidbits of information. First, that dying wouldn't help him escape the pain. Alastor had gone into gruesome detail about where they were and what happened if your body died, gleefully lording his ownership over Vermin's soul. Second, that he was in a hotel; something Vermin would never have guessed from the swampy surroundings. Third, that Alastor was completely obsessed with some crazy Hell-witch named Elida, and that Vermin had pissed her off somehow. And lastly, that Alastor loved to hear himself talk.

Vermin decided that he was, in fact, hungry enough to eat the pet food. Alastor had kept him barely alive but hadn't fed him once until that point. Who knew the next time he'd be given a meal? Degrading as it was, Vermin forced himself to eat the pebbles. They were gross, but better than starvation. He wondered how long it would take for his tormentor to return. Hours? Days? Weeks? The cage was stifling. It reminded him too much of being buried alive; a trauma that was still far too fresh.

And then, just as he was ready to give up hope, there was light. It started off as a faint glow, peeking through the trees like beams of sunshine. Then it got closer, and brighter, and more luminous until Vermin was forced to shield his eyes. A woman appeared, more beautiful than anything he'd ever seen. The halo on her head filled Vermin with a flicker of hope. This was nothing like his torturer. This was Alastor's antithesis; a creature of shining brilliance. Everything about her radiated goodness.

A voice like sugar and music spoke directly into his head, dancing through his troubled mind, "Frightened creature of pity and pain, what is your name?"

In awe, Vermin clutched the bars of the cage, wanting to be closer to her, "I am Vermin," he replied. "What are you?" He'd meant to say 'who' but he was too astounded by her to think clearly.

"I am she who protects the weak and downtrodden; an angel of Heaven's gates," the angel replied. "You have grown acquainted with the ways of demons, but have yet to see what awaits you at the hands of the pure-hearted. Come, let me heal you."

"Are you here to save me?"

"Reach out your hand from the bars that contain you," the angel instructed.

Vermin did so, and a cup full of some strange liquid appeared in his grasp. It smelled familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Come to think of it, the angel's voice sounded familiar too. Or maybe the sense of familiarity was just the comfort he felt in her presence.

"Drink," the angel softly ordered.

Vermin drank, downing the liquid in one go. He instantly felt better. His wounds stitched shut, his bones repaired themselves, and the burns in his fur eased. He breathed a contented sigh at the blissful relief, "Thank you. Dear God, thank you so much! Who are you?"

The angel responded with echoing words that made his head feel light and fuzzy;

"The one who ascends the souls of the damned,

The one with magic in my hand.

I lived and died for those in need,

And it's my word that the powerful heed.

Your time upon the rack now comes to an end,

So that your perspective can quickly wend.

Ask my name now, little hare,

And you will learn your future there."

The lock on his cage opened by itself, allowing Vermin to lift the latch and exit his cage. He took a hesitant step forward, glancing around for any sign of the Radio Demon. There was none, so Vermin threw the lock into the swamp and turned to his savior.

"What is your name?" He asked obediently, ready to do anything this being asked if it meant salvation.

The sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves that filled the swamp all stopped at once, deafening in their sudden silence. The angel's eyes narrowed, and the world got colder. Frost coalesced around the ground where she stood, and a biting breeze blew across Vermin's sensitive ears. His feeling of ease ebbed, replaced with one of foreboding.

The angel's mouth opened, and he heard her true voice. There was no harsh tone or flash of magic when she spoke. No, she didn't need any of that. Instead, she sent the blood draining from his face in no more than three simple words:

"I am Elida."

Vermin ran, bolting as fast as his feet would carry him through the damp terrain. Alastor's insidious laugh filled the air, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Apparently, he'd been watching the whole time. The shadows reached out toward Vermin, chasing him as he dashed desperately away. He didn't know where he was going, only that he had to get out of there.

The sounds of trees and swamp-creatures returned with a vengeance, accompanied by a creepy old song floating through the air. The lyrics mocked him;

"On the farm, ev'ry Friday,

On the farm, it's rabbit pie day.

So ev'ry Friday that ever comes along,

I get up early and sing this little song:

Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run, run!"

They were toying with him, that much was clear. But panic spurred him onward. His magical patch job filled him with enough vigor to place all his chips on the hope that he might be able to slip through their fingers. Angel of Heaven; yeah right. He darted around twisting roots and snapping alligators. He was getting used to his bunny body, which was good. It meant he was fast. He just might stand a chance.

That hope disappeared when a thick, icy fog rolled toward him, glowing with the same white light as Elida had. It caught up to him easily, freezing his feet to the ground and holding him in place. It swirled in ominous circles around him. He yanked and tugged to free himself. No good; Vermin was stuck. He considered gnawing off his own feet if it meant escape, but no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than two tall fawn-like figures appeared, one shadowy and one bright. Two tendrils of black magic moved to restrain Vermin's arms, bringing his number of useful limbs down from two to zero.

"Judas Perg," Elida asked, "Do you know why I sent my sweet Alastor after you?"

Sweet? In what world was that monster sweet? Vermin shook his head, eyes wide.

"I'll give you a hint. Do you remember your student by the name of Natalie Smith?"

"What about her? I know she's not your kid. Both her parents are still alive, what do you care about her?"

"I'm the one who died for her."

A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold went down Vermin's spine. "What do you mean you died for her?"

"Tell me, Vermin, have you ever visited the McCarthy family cemetery? It's across town from your home."

"The one with the giant witch statue?"

"The very same. What do you know of the grave that statue marks?"

"I don't know, she's some kind of local hero from several years ago? Her family is loaded and- wait… That's you?"

Elida leaned down condescendingly, "I gave up my life so that that sweet little girl could have one. I intended for her to live a long, happy life. Things were going well, until you came and had to screw it all up."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Vermin tried to lie.

Elida tilted her beautiful head, "Oh? Then explain how I saw you raping her just last week. I witnessed your depravity with my own eyes."

"I didn't r-"

"Who do you think pulled the fire alarm you pathetic excuse for a rodent? I saw it happen, so don't lie to me again. Tell me, how many people have you assaulted? How many children? How often did you hurt my Natalie?"

"Alright, fine," Vermin tried to plead, "I slept with her a few times, but it was just a quick fuck now and then, you know? It was no big deal! What was I supposed to do when she kept dressing like a slut? I got to have a little fun, and she got a grade that'll get her an internship she was wanting. It was a win-win, no harm, no foul!"

"You are foul," Elida countered, disgust written plainly on her face. "I've seen the worst humanity has to offer, and you have blown them all out of the water."

"Oh, come on," Vermin bargained, "girls her age used to be married with children back in the day, how are modern girls any different from them? Really, I was doing her a favor setting her up with a good internsh-"

"Silence," Elida ordered, casting a spell that stole Vermin's voice. His mouth continued to flap as he tried to plead his case, but nothing came out.

The witch continued, "Now then, let me tell you how this is going to work. I'm going to…" She paused, looking quizzically at the grinning red demon holding a microphone in her face. "Are you broadcasting this?"

"Yes," Alastor smiled, "this is good, quality drama! True passion!"

She stared incredulously at him for a moment. He stared unapologetically back, still smiling. Eventually she just rolled her eyes, "Whatever. Anyway, as I was saying," she turned back to Vermin, "I have two potions for you. One relatively simple recipe I invented specifically for this, and one I made some time ago that I refuse to release to the public due to the existentially horrific effect it has."

"The first potion is rather straightforward," she continued, pulling a vial out of her pocket. The contents were a shade of black so dark it seemed like nothingness in a bottle. "I call it 'Senseless' because it cuts your consciousness off from all five of your senses. You won't be able to see, hear, smell, taste, or feel anything. The world will be a blank void of nothing but your thoughts. This potion is designed to remain in effect until a second potion's magic replaces it. That bit took some rather expensive ingredients, but I decided this was worth the investment."

"You will have no concept of time, no way to track how long you've been stuck in the dark, and no way to know what's happening outside your own mind. At first, it will be peaceful. Allie won't be hurting you anymore, after all. But then you'll get bored. And then you'll start to go mad. How long that takes depends on your own mental endurance, but make no mistake, it will happen. You will break. When you do, your voice will start screaming of its own accord; something you will have no knowledge of nor control over in your senseless state. Then, and only then, will we move on to potion number two."

"This second one," She pulled out another vial, this time full of a mirror-like substance, "is something that I never expected to use on anyone. I kept it locked away and hidden. But that just goes to show how the world likes to throw curveballs at you. This one, I like to call 'The Find Out Stage,' something meant to be given to someone who has, pardon my French, fucked around. Ask me what it does," she prompted, looking at Alastor.

"What does it do, Overlord Elida?" He obliged, a crazed look in his eyes.

"Oh, this old thing? Nothing special. It only forces you to relive every moral crime you've ever committed, along with the effects of that crime, from the victim's perspective. So, if you were to, say, push someone to the ground, and they skinned their knee, you would feel what they felt when you pushed them. You would feel the pain in their knee and would experience every moment of pain that came after. Did they get an infection? You get to experience their sickness."

"Now, as you can imagine, for people like me, who spend much of their time working to be kind and loving to others, a potion like this would be more annoying than scary. But for, say, a child molester," Elida made intense eye contact with her enemy, "Well, that person would end up not only raping themselves, but they'd also experience every ounce of guilt, shame, suicidal thoughts, PTSD, and any other negative effects their crimes inflicted on those poor, innocent kids."

"And the more people that molester hurt," she added, "the longer they would be trapped within the potion's effects. Did one of their victims spend the rest of their life with an STD? You get to live all the worst parts of their life with that pain. This will continue, each consequence compounded one after the other into one long timeline of pain, until every single person you've ever hurt has either healed or died. Whichever comes first. Depending on the quantity and severity of your crimes, you could still be feeling their agony long after their souls depart the mortal realm. Something tells me that will be the case with you, so I'll be keeping your body strapped down and guarded for the duration of your ordeal."

If Vermin's face hadn't been masked with fur, he'd have gone ghostly pale. He'd been sleeping with kids longer than he'd been a teacher. It was why he went into education in the first place. He didn't even know how many kids he'd touched. He lost track after the first dozen or so. If what she was saying was true, he'd be stuck under the effect of her horrible spell for decades, possibly even centuries. He didn't know who was worse: Alastor or Elida. They were both completely insane.

"I can see from the look of terror on your face that my words are sinking in," Elida said calmly. "That's good. I wouldn't want to have to repeat myself. Now, let's get you strapped in somewhere you won't tear your own skin off while your mind is trapped, shall we?"

Alastor took that as his cue to snap his fingers, bringing all three of them back to the same torture area Vermin had only just escaped. He was forced onto a hard, cold table, and thick leather straps pinned him down. It was not unlike how he'd been strapped to the rabbit-cage coffin. This couldn't be happening. He had to wake up. This was just a bad dream. Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!

While Alastor forced the ex-teacher's mouth to open, Elida poured the first potion into Vermin's mouth.

Everything went black.

[TLDR: Purg manifests as a rabbit-demon. Alastor renames Purg to Vermin. Alastor tortures Vermin. Elida gives Vermin a potion that forces him to relive every evil thing he's ever done, from the perspective of the people he hurt. Alastor broadcasts Elida's villain speech all over Hell.

P.S. The song mentioned in this chapter is called "Run Rabbit Run" by Flanagan & Allen.]