Uhlman sat quietly in the briefing room as he waited for everyone inside the safe house to arrive. They needed to address a few problems that arose when it came to developing Artyom's-no, Railtracer's background. He pulled out his cigarette and brandished a lighter shaped in the form of a bullet. It could never match the ones he had when he was alive but it was close enough. His thumb flicked the top cover before spinning the sparker to ignite. The cigarette reached for the edge of the flame until he saw the burning embers. One good breath was taken as the orange butt was placed between his lips.

He took a moment to think while leaning back on the leather. Strange how he was given a mental picture of Heaven when he was alive. The man was not entirely religious but he had expected this particular realm of all that was good and holy to ban and discourage this behavior. Yet, when he arrived at the pearly gates, the fact that they were able to grasp nuance was a surprise in itself. Sure, they liked to talk about doing the right thing or discouraging any behavior that would incur the wrath of God himself but they were capable of understanding the parts that made humans… well, human. Maybe it took a while for the low-ranking members of Heaven to grasp the more serious topics of goodness and depravity but they were willing.

All it did was bring the thoughts of his superior as he took the cigarette out and his lips released the air in his lungs. Colonel Mel'nikov was a good man, maybe not the best of the Spartan Order - that belonged to Artyom, but he was a good man in the end. Uhlman's soul felt a great regret in the end when he learned of the man's death. He should have taken that chance to talk to them the moment someone in the department brought it up. Such a shame that the demands of his duty got the better of him now that he was permanently gone from existence.

The old soldier knew he couldn't be like this forever. An opportunity at vengeance was all that mattered as he pulled himself forward and looked at the table full of documents and pictures. His workload had increased tenfold since Death had put more interest into the search for the blessed army-grade weaponry. He had hoped that resources and manpower - or soul power - could be allocated to their safehouse station but none turned up. Tony better show his face to check on their progress because if the department took this priority seriously over the normal objectives it takes to fix bureaucratic mistakes, it wouldn't take less than a dozen to address a major issue in the Council Chambers.

A commotion erupted just outside the room as the only door swung open with Pavel entering the room with five others following him. Uhlman's gaze fell upon them while they conversed about the sin of putting pineapple on pizza. It was an argument that was never going to be solved as they made their way to their seats and changed their expressions on the topic at hand. Yet, it was entertaining as this collection of dangerous individuals talked about something so mundane.

They stole a glimpse at the papers and photos laid out on the table before Pavel spoke his mind about the situation. "What exactly are we looking at? I thought we had already covered these issues before Artyom was planted at I.M.P. Did we do something wrong?"

"It's not easy for me to say this, given the skill of everyone sitting in this room," Uhlman began as everyone focused their full attention on him before he continued, "Unfortunately, it's not enough. We need to fix this?"

He looked woman sitting on his right who had folded her arms. Her violet hair kept over to one side of her head while adjusting the straps of her sports bra. "Any specifics?"

"Thank you, Valerie, for allowing me to start somewhere. You and Niko managed to forward a payment for an impressive sports car. I don't know how the hell he's going to work when it looks like he earns more than his boss."

Besides her was a man wearing a tracksuit, who had been inspecting the photos on the table before turning his sights on him. His accent originates from Serbia. "You told us to get a car that was fast and maneuverable. There was no mention of matching Blitzo's job. If he's going to work, can't he use the public transportation?"

"That depends on the neighborhood he's coming from," He reasoned, "It's hard to justify a car like that if his supposed house was anything like your Liberty City."

"So what does his house look like? Maybe we can fix that?"

The man sitting beside Niko's right was dressed in an older outfit, one that reflected on his time back in those wild days of America. His origins were perhaps the most interesting since he was involved being a survivor of Custer's Last Stand; yet, his file remained classified when it came to the happenstance of him entering the afterlife. He scratched his freshly shaven stubbles and earned the attention of everyone at the table. "Ever since the latest purge, the housing prices have gotten out of control that I don't think our budget could handle it. So I tried to look somewhere sensible but I don't think anyone here is going to like it."

"So what is that supposed to mean?" Wondered Niko as he turned his head to the fellow beside him, "It can't be worse than what V and I did."

"Before anyone does anything drastic… I got Artyom a spot at the hotel where Princess Charlotte is staying at."

A redheaded woman sat across from him, wearing a black leather jacket among her dark clothes as she professionally maintained a discipline that Uhlman was all too familiar with. He only saw that in spies or cold-hearted bureaucrats but her organization was different from most. Her hair was tied neatly behind her head as she leaned forward in her chair. "Morris, you didn't think of the consequence if you did this right now?"

"What was I supposed to do?" He answered as he rose from his seat, expressing his frustration to the entire room, "Wait until the prices go down. I can't haggle for the life of me, honey!"

"If the princess of Hell finds even a hint of our operations at the Happy Hotel, Lucifer might get involved and everyone in this room knows what that means for us."

Silence fell upon everyone before Morris spoke his thoughts while walking back and forth. "It's called the Hazbin Hotel, Ms. Faden. If there is anything I've learned about that place, the princess is busy trying to refurbish the place after the purge and she's attracted a few sinners, which makes her a bit hopeful. If we play our cards right, we can try to pretend that Artyom is another sinner looking for redemption and he wouldn't look out of place so long as he acts like a sinner."

"That is still a risk to it," She countered before turning towards the head of the safe house, "Can anyone still add to this conversation of ours?"

Uhlman looked to his left to see the man sitting between Winter and Pavel drinking a cup of tea while looking over the documents throughout that conversation. The man was known as Strelok, a moniker he earned in the Chornobyl Exclusion Zone and he was a stalker just like him. What was strange about the man was that he could relate to him given the strangeness of their respective worlds in comparison to everyone else in this room. He liked to know enough details to make sure an operation would go well and he could see he was going to voice his opinion when Strelok stole a glance from him. "I've been trying to figure out what we can do about the connection between Blitzo and Prince Stolas. Right now, I've been getting nothing except for all the sex they can come up with in their bedroom. There are no snippets of information I can make out ever since Valerie hacked into their communications."

"Nothing of importance?" The Russian asked the Ukrainian as he hoped something could be salvaged out of this mess, "No talks of seizing military-grade blessed weaponry?"

"If I could read someone's mind, sure, but I don't have anything on my end. Artyom has to do something unless…"

Why did he pause for a second? What reason did he have to do so? "Come on, speak up."

"Well, if Artyom is at the Hazbin Hotel," His expression changed at the sudden possibility that hadn't come up before, "Maybe we can intercept communication chatter at the hotel. If Charlie is attracting all sorts of sinners to show up, who is to say that we won't be able to find what we're looking for?"

"That's an opportunity I didn't see coming. I suppose this briefing is not a total waste."

Pavel had a bottle of vodka in his hand before he took one large swig and grabbed everyone's attention with his drinking. "We still have a certain issue I need to bring up."

"Which is?" Uhlman wondered, "What do you have to say?"

"Artyom needs to act like a shitbag. We got to remember, that he's supposed to act like a sinner. You and I both know the man has a heart of gold."

He chuckled at the opportunity to jab at him. "Well, why don't you show him? You know a thing or two about that."

"I'm serious, chuvak," Pavel replied, "He needs to provide a convincing appearance other than our little bracelets."

"I don't think that's ever going to be a problem. You and I both know of that cold ruthlessness he's capable of. We should allow him to show off for a bit. Though, you should act the part of being his friend at a party. It would help him out greatly."

Someone entered the room unannounced as the man arrived with a good mood behind him. "There's the guys and gals. I've been looking for you. How's the hunt for the weapon shipment?"

"Tony?" He immediately recognized him as he still maintained the appearance of a typical office worker at the cubical in a black tie and a white shirt, "What are you doing here?"

"Death said to check on you guys. It seems like everyone is working hard."

Now was an opportunity. The safe house station needed all the help he could get. "It's a good thing you're here. We need a bigger budget and more manpower to help us with this particular objective."

"Can't you guys get it through the system?" He asked with genuine curiosity as his hands slipped into the slack's pockets, "I'm just visiting."

"I did but it seems like no one answered. We need that. Maybe bring the issue to Death?"

Tony nodded his head in confirmation. "No problem, I just so happen to be heading there after this visit."

It was good news for once. Now their jobs would get easier by this point in time.

It took time for Artyom to adjust to his new life in Hell and more time at I.M.P. The arsenal room was a cluttered mess and he was so fortunate that he had a grace period to organize the weapon racks and shelves full of ammo boxes. At the same time, his soul was impressed by the number of hijinks his supposed colleagues were getting themselves into as that made his job as a Purgatory Investigator incredibly difficult. He could plant any listening devices if the televisions were being shot up or several members would get into intense arguments about who was fat. Then there was the fact that he couldn't eat without someone accidentally eating his food at the fridge. What he would do if he had a few sticks of rats cooked by some Kazakhs?

The experience was not exactly terrible. He got to see first-hand the trio of imps making their trips to the mortal world with Loona's expertise in the grimoire. She was the one who always had the book and no one else. Perhaps she knew how to use it in the best way that the others couldn't. Stealing the book from under the nose would be too obvious; especially, when it was apparent that Hellhounds could track scents. The adopted daughter of the boss seemed to exude danger even at the most leisurely moments. He had to be careful around her.

The others were something else. Moxxie and Millie were a married couple from the ring of wrath and they seemed to enjoy killing together. It reminded the soldier of him and his wife back when he was among the living. An adorable relationship between the two and he didn't know how the husband could tolerate Blitz's incessant remarks; yet, he still observed that it seemed less like disrespect and more like friendly banter to pass the time.

They were a complete contrast to Blitz and his outbursts. The energy in the room changed based on the mood of his boss and it was difficult to gauge the imp's background other than he liked the chaotic clusterfuck that was his company. He seemed to waste an entire budget, for the most part, on the most simple petty things he could afford. Then there was his relationship with a Hellborn nobility who permitted the usage of the grimoire to the company in exchange for sexual… engagement.

I.M.P's arms repairman had to work with all of these factors in mind as he sat behind a workbench. He tinkered with a half-assembled Thompson sub-machine gun placed on a stand while he thought about obtaining his objective - finding the lost shipment of blessed weapons. Artyom had to plan this carefully and exploit an opportunity when it presented itself. If he was going to be fixing peoples' weapons, maybe they might visit a supplier or a market if it's outside of his expertise.

He finished cleaning the remaining parts for the gun and began to slip each piece into place. The countless hours of oiling up barrels or cleaning out the dirt from the Volga and sands of the Caspian had paid off. It also helped that he had a user's manual to ease the understanding of this gun and the others in the arsenal of I.M.P. It was good as new; unfortunately, the company didn't have a range. He would have to ask Blitz about that particular problem or he could think outside the box - this was Hell and he's supposed to act like a sinner.

The weapon was unmounted from the table as Artyom walked over to a nearby shelf and grabbed three large magazines before leaving the room for weapon testing. As he walked through the office, it was surprisingly quiet around this time. Perhaps the crew went out to get some food. The supposed sinner made sure to lock the keys to the company's office and related rooms. He was surprised that the imp even trusted him with the second set of keys instead of Moxxie. Was Blitz that careless?

Silence followed him from the hallways to his ascent in the flight of stairs. His weapon and ammo bags jingled at the pace he was jogging at. When he got to the roof, the sky was filled with a red tint while a moon with a pentagram lorded over life beneath its light. He loaded the weapon while scanning his surroundings for a suitable target to test his weapon on. Then he saw from across an alleyway parking lot a broken-down billboard sign. Artyom knelt to a single knee and lined the sights to his target before waiting to stabilize his shots. Three breaths were taken before his finger rested on the trigger.

He fired.

Bursts of forty-five ACP rattled at that moment while shell casings were ejected out to the side. The bullets peppered the billboard with enough firepower that one could barely make out the original posters. The type of bullet was unimpressive that it seemed to do enough to perform but enough to deter Artyom from the five-point-four-five rounds of his trusty Kalashnikov. During one of the bursts, the gun stopped firing as smoke emanated from the barrel and the firing mechanisms were out of place. "The gun works but it still jams."

"Hey, asshole!" A woman shouted from below. He looked over the edge to see a pink-skinned demon in a skimpy black-white dress stand beside a Hellhound, "You're getting bullets all over my car!"

"Sorry!"

He had forgotten about the alleyway parking space below him. As he observed her, it turned out that her car just so happened to take over I.M.P's parking space. More people stepped out of the car as they quickly sprayed paint over the marked area meant for their company vehicle. Perhaps the billboard was not the best idea and he should have constructed his own firing range in the armory. Well, he could experiment back in the arsenal room and see what he could do there.

The saved-in-disguise packed his belongings and made his way back towards his workspace. As he descended the flight of stairs, Artyom worked on fixing his sub-machine gun. What was the point of a rapid-fire sub-machine gun with a large magazine if the weapon was prone to jamming? Even the Bastard wasn't this terrible and it was a Frankenstein of weapon.

Soon this sinner with a ghostly military appearance had returned to the hallway where I.M.P's work was conducted. Upon unlocking the door, he quickly returned to the work table and placed the gun back where it was. He was about to detach the magazine and finally rectify the problem but then he heard a pair of footsteps enter the doorway behind him. His mind was unnerved by someone watching him and so he looked back, only to find the woman who yelled at him earlier.

She seemed beautiful in an unnatural alluring way. Just simply the way she rested her hands upon the hips contained a rather sexy posture. Then there were the high thighs and the high heels that gave a certain sex appeal that charmed even the saved soldier. A sultry voice soothed his ears "You're the one who got bullets all over my car."

"They're shell-casings," He corrected her while curious about what she was doing here. "You know that this floor is occupied by I.M.P, right?"

"You're one of Blitzo's employees? What are you doing here by your lonesome?"

He turned his body around to address her. "I fix weapons for my boss and the others."

"Well, too bad," She replied with a surprisingly evil smirk, "My friends and I are going to take this office to ourselves. It has a soundproof area that works great for our music. That and I want to rub it into Blitzy's face when he gets here. Now scram while I'm being nice unless a sinner like you wants to join us."

"I'm not going."

She was taken aback by his response but he had a reason for that. Artyom was not going to let a random stranger undue all of his hard work at organizing the arsenal room from the clusterfuck he started with. That and also he needed to find a possible whereabouts of the blessed weaponry. Yet, the demon did not take his words well as she crossed her arms. "No, no, no - you don't understand - I'm saying you have no choice in the matter. When I say I want you to leave, you leave."

"Still not going," He deadpanned as he leaned back against his work table as stole a glance at the organized room that made his life easier, "I just got this job and busted my ass trying to make this place look nice. Then you show up and decide that you own the place. No, you're not undoing all of that."

"Do you know who the fuck I am and what kind of people I run with? I'm not a succubus, I'm the bitch succubus."

He chuckled at her statement as if that meant anything to him. "You think I should know you but I could care less. Now get out and let me work in peace."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" She asked of him before taking a few steps closer, her heart-shaped tail raised high, "Don't make me send my hellhound on you! A sinner like you will get your ass beat."

"This is my fucking place, cyka, you'll have to pry it from my hands if you want to take all of this from me!"

Fury took over him as he looked underneath the table behind him and reached for an empty ammo can. To emphasize his point across, Artyom shot to put the container at the Hellborn but with no intention to harm her. Her eyes widened for a brief second before ducking her head as it flew past the doorway from whence she came. Neither were able to continue the conversation as a gunshot erupted from behind and the bullet ricocheted around the room.

The bouncing bullet was hard to keep track of before the succubus was knocked off her feet. He was horrified by what the jammed Thompson had done. His feet and hands were quicker than his thoughts as he ran over to his left to snatch a medkit placed on the wall before running over to the struck demon. "Goddamn misfire!

"The fuck?" The woman asked as she turned her head towards him, "Did you shoot me?"

"No, I got a gun that's jammed and it unjammed a round at us."

He unpacked the kit and began to work on stopping the blood loss. The most familiar thing he had to do was remove an orange covering for a needle so that the succubus wouldn't be put in shock. Then he stabbed the needle to alleviate the pain.

Someone came running as Artyom looked up from the wounded demon to see a grey hellhound standing at the doorway. His expression revealed both shock and fury at a single moment. "What the fuck happened?!"

"Misfire from the gun behind me," The supposed sinner replied, "Bullet struck your friend here."

"Should we get her to a hospital? Verosika ain't going to die, is she?"

He grabbed the young woman's arm and saw a heart-shaped tattoo with Blitz's name crossed out. She was his boss's former lover. Well, it didn't matter to him as he placed the dressing on the gunshot wound in quick succession. Then he looked toward the bodyguard the succubus had intended to use against him. "Alright, get her to the hospital as fast as you can."

"Okay," The hellhound realized as he turned his head out, "Get back in the car! Verosika needs to go to the hospital!"

"I'm sorry this happened."

It was an apology that didn't need to happen but the Russian felt a hint of guilt knowing it wouldn't have happened if he didn't load the gun. Meanwhile, the girl seemed to be mildly confused. On one hand, her face seemed angry but Artyom felt that something else was being repressed from being spoken. As the hellhound picked her up and carried her out of the room, a puddle of blood was all that remained where he squatted over.

"Blitz is going to ask questions."

The changes to the hotel were already underway ever since Alastor had been brought to the hotel. Angel Dust had to admit that the strawberry pimp had a good taste for fashion and he was going to make the best out of what he offered. Everything seemed to improve, even if it was just Nifty cleaning the place up and making the rooms look neat.

Habits from his old life still seeped into Hell - being a gangster, a lover of his fellow men, or an Italian cook. His hands multi-tasked with the work he put into making a piece of his family's recipe. One hand held his phone and scrolled through the missed calls and messages, a second hand was holding the handle and stirred through the pot of alfredo and noodles, and the last two were busy making sure the garlic bread was being prepared.

Two servants of the hotel - Razzle and Dazzle - had entered the kitchen with groceries in hand. Angel thanked the flying demonic goats before they departed from his side. If there was one way to describe his benefactor, Charlie knew how to keep sweet company. As he finished the garlic bread, he placed the tray in the oven and began to heat it. Everyone was going to enjoy what he had to offer.

He heard humming outside the door before he looked over his shoulder to see the charming blonde that managed to convince him to relax in her hotel of redemption. The princess of Hell and the daughter of lucifer smiled, her eyes widening and her nose catching the aroma. "What are you cooking? Italian?"

"Yeah, how can you tell?" He asked of her, curious about how she recognized the smell, "Had any before?"

"Mom and dad always liked to get Italian on their honeymoon. Dad said it was the food that inspires love."

Angel Dust chuckled at that statement as his mood improved. "He's not wrong. I'd be ashamed to call myself an Italian if I couldn't cook like my mom or make love."

"Oh, you didn't have to put it like that," The princess replied as she walked over to the pot to take one more fresh smell, "What's this?"

"Chicken alfredo. Was always taught that to be a wise guy, there's no better way to hatch a plan than doing it over a meal fit for twenty guys. Of all the things I will say, don't tell Vags, my mother was such a saint when it came to food."

She opened a drawer and brandished a silver spoon before he felt offended by what she intended to do. "What are you doing?!"

"Smells nice and I bet it will taste great," Charlie explained hinting her silverware towards the pot, "Mind if I get a taste?"

"You'll eat when I tell you it's time to eat."

Her expression changed as her eyes turned into that of an innocent cute puppy trying to grab his attention. "Can't I just have one taste?"

"Don't give me that look," The truth was that she seemed to have her way with people in a good way. A lot better at convincing him than Valentino. Minutes passed before he succumbed to her charming looks, "Alright, you get one taste. Just one! Then you wait."

"Thanks!"

The princess of Hell took her small portion and left his side before throwing the spoon into the sink. "What do you think?"

"I think Alastor will be jealous that he has some competition in the kitchen," She eagerly replied before walking over to the refrigerator and grabbing a beer bottle. If this was to soothe his ego, well, it certainly was, "Maybe this will help you lose the occasional habit?"

"Ain't going to happen sweet cheeks. I love my guns - one way or another."

Charlie popped the bottle cap before taking a quick swig of her drink. "Well, I'll be up in my room. Tell me when you're done."

"Sure thing, your highness," She deserved to hear that at least. It might not make up for the day he should have gone to the studio but it was a start, "Don't get drunk before dinner."

Someone knocked on the door and caused the two to stop what they were doing. They turned their heads towards the kitchen door that led outside. Then someone's voice called out to them. "Hello? Is anyone in there?"

"I'll check it out," The princess stated as she passed by and let the demonic spider continue to stir the part, "Who would knock on this door?"

Her hand reached out to the door handle and opened it wide to reveal a devilish blonde woman with pinkish skin. She adjusted her glasses as a faint smile was all she could offer. "Uh… hi?"

"Who are you?"

"You can call me Mrs. Mayberry," The sinner answered as she remained reluctant in the doorway, "I saw what happened on the television and I came to see if I could stay here."

Angel turned his head towards the woman as he knew Charlie's expression would be excited by this little experiment of hers. The royal of Hell was exacerbated by her arrival. "Wait, you want to come here? I convinced a sinner to be part of my hotel?"

"Well, it's a bit more complicated than that. My apartment's water pipes broke and I got nowhere to stay. Would you accept a homeless teacher into your hotel?"

"Oh, I thought this was a genuine request," The disappointment was apparent to her as she stepped aside and gestured her hand out, "Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, here you can relax and wait as redemption comes to you."

The Italian sinner raised his head back and laughed. "Hate to break it to you, darling, but none of us are getting a way out of this hellhole."

"Angel, don't scare off the new occupant. She just got here!"

Mayberry entered the kitchen with a smile on her face. "I don't mind. Your friend here is perhaps better company than my husband."

"He's here too?" His head looked over to the sinner with horns. He had his reasons to be curious. "Perhaps I can give him a good time here?"

"I wouldn't count on it. Gerald is usually going to annoy me with an occasional shooting."

Now that got his attention. "Would he come to the hotel and shoot the shit? Now that is what I call a good time. We should hang out!"

"No, nobody is going to be shooting the shit at this hotel," Charlie asserted her authority while stealing glances from the homosexual and the newcomer, "Nobody is stupid enough to attack my father's property."

"Aw, can't I get a little bit of fun? It's bad enough you discourage me from drugs and now this? Fine, I'll play your little game. What a shame Mrs. Mayberry, we could have had a little bit of fun."

The pink sinner looked around. "I hope it won't be too bad for either of us. Let me get my stuff and settle down."

Author's Note: I won't lie, this chapter was weird to type up. I don't know why but it's probably because there isn't much interesting here other than several characters encountering each other. The next chapter should be more interesting but no guarantees.