It was another day on the job with another paying client asking the crew to perform another murder on a human in the mortal realm. Moxxie knew the assassination could go horribly wrong and if this were a normal company, the planning would be thorough and punctual. The problem was that Blitz was neither of those descriptions. Instead, he gathered everyone to the meeting room and presented a drawing board to plan their next kill. The drawings were parodies of the human target and the entire crew killing him in a brutal and savage manner. No finesse, no precision - just plain brutality. Despite the petty and simple-minded person in charge, Moxxie had to admit that he was creative.
The first sensible question on his mind was the practicality of it all. "Sir, I doubt you'll listen to me but is there a reason why we need to drop a piano on him?"
"Our client paid in advanced to kill him this way and I already took his cash," The imp replied as walked back and forth across the meeting room. It appeared that he wanted to be taken seriously on this issue; yet, his attempts at being a professional came to a halt with a smile on his face, "He said that he used to own that piano and it would be poetic to kill the target before he attends the opera. Death by music and all."
"Did you inquire about the client's reasons for this?"
Blitz shook his head and shrugged his shoulders while waving his flintlock pistol around. "Who gives a shit? We're just there to kill him."
"Just how are we going to get the piano in place?" He wondered while leaning back in his comfortable chair, "It ain't the easiest thing to move around."
"Who says we're moving one? No worries, I already got that covered. The target is in the middle of moving so we got to make this quick."
Moxxie noticed his wife on his right adjust herself within the chair beside him. "I think we can pull it off, provided we don't get spotted. What kind of human presence are we dealing with?"
"Aside from the target?" The boss cupped his chin and looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment, "Well, Millie, we do have a group of humans moving his furniture around so we might be forced to kill them while we set things up over there."
"How about bait? Can we get Loona to distract the target before he goes off to the opera?"
The hellhound sat beside her adoptive father while her legs rested on the table as she scrolled through her phone, caught up in her own little world. Despite this appearance of disinterest, she was still capable of joining the conversation. "Can do but make sure the target likes girls? We all know what happened when we tried to kill that priest."
"That one's on me, Loony," He apologized as the goth hellhound expressed her annoyance with that nickname, "If you can't seduce him maybe stop him with small-talk like asking for directions or something like that."
"Just make sure none of you fuck this up."
Railtracer entered the room, much to the surprise of the crew. Ever since he had been hired, the sinner was more or less locked away repairing their weapons. Moxxie felt a tinge of guilt within his heart, knowing that every time he and the others abused their weapons, the man's work would become ten times harder. Most importantly, he noticed the improvements when he made sure the weapons were maintained to the best of their quality.
A file of papers was in his hands with a large title of 'Accounting' written over it. "Uh, comrade-boss, I thought I might bring this up before you and the others head off."
"What's so important that you got to interrupt our meet?" He wondered as he tossed his pistol on top of the meeting table before the flintlock fired and the bullet found its mark somewhere in the room, "Also, what are you doing with my files?"
"Sorting them out. I took the initiative to reorganize the monthly budget. It's primarily to reduce the unnecessary costs but to also set aside funds for whatever operations you need."
The younger imp focused on Blitzo's face enraged by the revelation. "You what? You're just supposed to fix our guns not be our accountant!"
"I know, I know," He replied as his hands gestured him to calm down, "Not my place to undermine your authority but it's an excuse for me to surprise everyone with a gift."
"Wait, what? You got a present for me?"
Railtracer nodded his head as he tossed the file on the table and reached behind his back to brandish several magazines. Then he brought out a rifle cartridge and slowly ejected them out of place. "Yes. I've managed to contact some comrades and made a request to showcase some special bullets to spice up the killings. These are inferno rounds, if you want something immolated in a few seconds you'll never go wrong with them."
"Really? All it does is light things on fire?" He approached the sinner before the sinner passed him the cartridges, "That's all you could do?"
"Well, not exactly. I also did some research that the target's home is in the middle of a heatwave and it wouldn't be surprising if the rope holding the piano burst into flames."
Blitz was not the type of person to take something like this laying down. Moxxie knew how bossy he could be but there were certain lines he wouldn't cross lest the imp insulted him in front of his wife. What Railtracer did; however, was worse than that. It was not going to end well for the sinner if he didn't know his place in the company.
The boss walked to the sinner and pressed his finger in the man's chest. "I appreciate your help and all of that but next time, ask me what you're going to do next time. Otherwise, you ain't going to last long as Moxxie."
"Ladna," Acknowledged the Russian as he turned away from everyone in the group and walked back into the arms room. Then his phone rang before stealing a glance at the identification, "Chyort, I know what this is. May I take the rest of the day off?"
"Go ahead, you've been working overtime for the past few days. I don't mind."
Railtracer was quick to depart from the room as Blitz grabbed everyone's attention on the assassination. Moxxie should have focused his attention on killing the target but a feeling in his gut made him uncertain about the company's newest member. Whether it was intuition or fear, the young imp did his best to hide his thoughts on the matter.
The online computer meeting was dreadful. Tony sat behind his desk as the head of the Evidence Section presented the remains of the dead and pieces of broken APCs they had managed to inspect within the confines of their labs. It was still a lot to take in but unless they could speak with the fallen, there was little he could do with what they had. "Doctor McClintock, I appreciate your efforts but I don't see what else we can gain from this. I thought this stuff was already dealt with."
"That's the official statement we gave to the gentlemen at the council," Answered the Englishman as he walked over and appeared in view of the camera in a green biohazard suit, "Fortunately, we're still finding out some things like some traces of classified materials embedded in some of the vehicles and corpses."
"Classified materials? What exactly are we talking about?"
The specialist brandished a small and clear container holding a piece of metal inside. "This is what we got from the corpses. It seems that this material chipped off and embedded into the bodies thanks to our suspect's willingness to fight in close quarters. Then in my attempt to track its origins, our database seems to have referenced a file about the Holy Army developing a new generation of experimental power armor for the Archangels."
"How the hell were you able to access those files?!" The implication of the suspect's origins was bad enough but Tony's immediate concern was his counterpart's ability to even read them, "You don't have the clearance to view them in the first place."
"You're right, I don't. However, there is a colleague of mine who works in those echelons. We talked for a bit and exchanged some gifts if you understand what I am talking about. To put this story short, it seems like this attack has spooked their ranks as much as it spooked us. So he was willing to look into it."
The saved didn't know what else to ask about his coworker but the situation changed with the knowledge that had been given. If this was from the Holy Army then it would be possible that someone within their ranks had acted out of line. He needed to report to Azreal. "Thanks for the meet. We'll talk next time or you found a breakthrough for our investigation."
"Likewise, sir." The faceless doctor replied as he turned his head to his left and continued to speak, "Mary, how do you turn off this bloody thing?"
Tony ended the meeting with his mouse as he leaned back in his chair. He didn't expect himself to find a complicated mess in the afterlife of all places. Still, so long as he kept his cool, the situation would overwhelm him like his time in the Mojave Wasteland.
Someone was seen outside his office as they stopped outside the door and knocked on the glass. He rose out from behind his desk to see a brunette in a black dress while her knuckles knocked against the glass. Then he gestured for her to come before the door handle creaked open and the Asian lady entered. "Sorry to bother you sir but there is a gentleman who wishes to speak with you."
"Who exactly? You didn't tell me his name." He answered as he returned to his seat, "Is it urgent?"
"He says that he's from the Holy Army and it looks like he had been in an accident but came here to speak with you. Should I let him in?"
Just for what reason did this soul need to talk to him? "Bring him to my office."
She understood and left the room.
Minutes passed as he jumped out of his chair and carefully closed the blinds to his office one set at a time. He was fortunate that his room was sound proof but sometimes it was better not to have troubled eyes look at his reactions. As he finished setting the blinds for the door, his secretary returned with a man following her in a white uniform and a briefcase.
The white male was no doubt an officer based on the bars on his collar and his peaked cap. It looked like he was heading for a formal affair but seemed to have gotten his clothes dirtied along the way. His hair was unkempt and the lack of a breath mint was noticeable but Tony could worry about it later. "Step into my office. We'll talk. Mrs. Lorenzo, I will take it from here."
When she had departed from their company, Tony allowed him inside his office before stealing a glance at his surrounding coworkers in their cubicles. A minute passed before he slipped back inside and locked the door.
"Take a seat," As the saved returned to his seat, the officer found an empty chair in the corner of the room, "So what can our overbudgeted brothers-in-arms can do for me?"
He had not spoken throughout the entire time until now. A thick German accent made his nationality known, "I heard about the incident with the convoy. I was the man who signed off on its departure."
"Really? Now, what can you tell me about that."
"At the time, it wasn't exactly spectacular but the more I think about it the more weird things happened around me," Answered the colonel in a rather timid tone, "I should have paid attention."
The officer had really grabbed his attention. "Something spooked you?"
"We were given two conflicting schedules and my superiors were insistent on not letting the convoy depart; however, someone in high command had overridden us." Answered the German as he placed his briefcase in his lap, "As soon as the convoy left, my executive officer and a dozen other men - including myself - filed a complaint demanding an investigation."
"What happened?"
Tony noticed the man's hand shaking in the darkness. "Several of my compatriots went missing for a time. A few days later, they were discovered dead in their offices when daylight came."
"Shit," He knew what this meant. Someone was killing the witnesses but much more, the soul had the gall to kill a saved in Heaven, "Why didn't you come to us anytime sooner?"
"You're the Department of Purgatory. We think you're too soft on the sinners and demons of Hell. We are prideful men and women who do not share your views."
This was a bad time to throw insults at each other. As much as the saved wanted to rebut his words, the importance of that convoy was paramount. "Your pride has its limits because you're here."
"Yes, and I am afraid this will be my only chance to catch those responsible." He replied with fear in his voice, "I am the last person left, among the others, who haven't been silenced. Someone from the higher echelons of command wanted us dead. Fortunately, they spurred me to hasten my resolve and assist in the department as much as possible."
The German officer rose from his seat and approached him. He then placed the briefcase onto the desk as he straightened his back.
"This is my last act of vengeance."
Curiosity got the better of him as the saved of the department began to click open the briefcase to find a collection of manila folders inside. "What's this?"
"Evidence for your investigation. As a supply officer, I keep track of arms shipments and the finances behind them," He explained as he began to look through the files. Then he presented a sheet full of grids, numbers, and labels. Soon the colonel pointed at an account that was highlighted in yellow marker, "Service Battalion three-two-two has a budget that is three-hundred percent over an average service battalion. That might be worth taking a look into it but that is not all. I took a look into the records of Convoy one-nine-six and discovered that it relates to my scheduling problems just before it left and got attacked."
"So let me grasp the situation - this service battalion and that convoy are related? Am I capable of finding that weapon shipment?"
He nodded his head in response. "All of our convoys have a manifest in them and should you find what you're looking for, it should be there. It would also have information on which service battalion it was meant to be sent to and who exactly requested it."
"One-nine-six, I got that," Now he was going somewhere after the investigation had stalled and this officer proved to be invaluable in helping him, "Why don't you stay here? We can protect you while you assist with this. Are you able?"
"The unfortunate truth is that I have a scheduled appointment tomorrow. I know that the moment I leave the safety of your building, my pursuers will not hesitate. Besides, everything you need is in that suitcase. This is where we part ways."
Tony watched helplessly as the would-be victim turned away and adjusted his officer cap. Then he left the room with little announcement. He was watching a man greet his doom with open arms - a quality few people in Heaven and Hell possessed.
The Radio Demon enjoyed his new position at the newly named Hazbin Hotel with glee on his face and terror in his heart. He was surprised that even the princess of Hell and the daughter of Lucifer were so trusting of him to be accepted as another poor sinner waiting to be redeemed by the angels of Heaven. Alastor scoffed at the notion that Charlie could even try to earn the attention of the powers above. Yet, there was a satisfaction to be had when he could watch the most gullible people of Hell have their hopes ripped out from their hands.
His stay resided in - unsurprisingly - the radio room, where he could listen to the wave frequencies across Hell with impunity. The lives of all those who were under his influence as the tendrils of control took over every radio and microphone that existed throughout the hotel. No one was safe, not even the princess. Despite his efforts, there was only one room that remained uncorrupted by his touch and its defiance demanded his full attention.
Being an overlord had its consequences. Everyone feared you and would pay their respects but should they refuse to acknowledge that power, it would be a grave mistake for your typical sinner. Somehow, Alastor's tendrils finally encountered some resistance ever since that duel against Vox. Was this some kind of defense mechanism against someone like him? If that was the case, it was a poor form of security given how easily he was able to corrupt everything else. It wouldn't take long if he overpowered this piece of technology.
A brief moment of white light flickered in his eyes and the Radio Demon somehow felt a strange sensation of pure… goodness. He did not know why but what made this speaker so different from the rest? Then his ears heard cries of laughter and birds singing in the air where innocence was supreme. It was alluring until that experience was removed in a blink of an eye before a massive explosion erupted in his room.
He was thrown back from his chair where he once sat as the radio set provided by the hotel's 'staff' had been nothing but wreckage and the glass windows were shattered. His tendrils were retracted from the various communication equipment on his desk as Alastor regained his senses and felt unsure about what had happened. What could possibly overpower him in such a manner like that? More importantly, who was capable of that?
A pair of footsteps approached his room before the door was kicked open by a grey-skinned moth in black and red clothes. "Alastor, what the Hell was that?"
"I don't know," He meekly answered, unwilling to reveal his true reaction to the moment as he turned to his right to find the Hispanic standing in the doorway with hands on her hips, "You should get better radio equipment."
"Those radios have been with us since the hotel was handed to Charlie. It's not our fault that you decided to play with them and turn them into a bomb."
One could obviously see why Charlie loved her. There was a charming ferocity that could be appreciated but the sinner viewed that as an annoyance. "Perhaps I misunderstood the technology in this room but is a shame that I was not able to make a new PA speaker out of it."
"If you need a PA speaker, tell Charlie and me about it," She replied, "We can afford it."
"It won't happen again, my dear Vagatha."
She departed from the room with her head turned back but Vaggie managed to get the last word. "I'll tell the others it was an accident."
Yes… an accident. Yet, the Radio Demon didn't know whether it was truly an accident or not.
The halls of the palace grew busy and were teeming with nobles and minor monarchs from all across this dark realm. Such a gathering of individuals - both important and irrelevant - was a rare occurrence if one paid attention to the politics of Hell. It was a byproduct of a time when Lucifer and his followers retreated to this place after signing their non-aggression pact with a delegate and sword of God - Archangel Michael. Even after all of these ages, the great fallen one could still remember the moment he signed that paper in ink.
He sat quietly on his throne and watched his subordinates busy themselves with the politicking and backroom agreements. Yet, it was necessary for his kingdom to maintain its order and control across the reaches and levels of Hell. Each was so eager to rise above their station while leaving their competition below them - or worse - at their command. Fortunately for them, he did not care about the means they would take to be in a position of power so long as they recognized he was their ruler above all else.
This commemoration always took place in the aftermath of the yearly invasion of Heaven and the extermination of sinful souls. It was perhaps a poor example to celebrate at the aftermath and expense of the former mortals and their woeful existence but their petty squabbles at the street level would always override their concerns as a society. Then again, the most powerful ruler had to remember that he wasn't given the best of humanity.
Lucifer saw his wife conversing with her handmaidens and relatives so publicly. The fine and lithe figure could still be identified even surrounded by a sea of people. However, she was always in good hands when among her kin. It could not be said to him as an occasional noble would always try their hand to approach his throne and try to invite him over to join their clique to gain some form of legitimacy or political recognition over their peers. He wouldn't complain as there were others who could charm him enough to be worthy of that attention but it was annoyance throughout the majority of these celebrations.
A thought entered his mind as it give the king some measure of comfort. At least, Charlotte didn't have to deal with this nonsense. Even if he found her naive idea of a sinner's redemption disagreeable, he loved her enough not to let her suffer a mere minute of this party.
Soon a tall and mighty arrival made his way towards him while shapeshifting into his preferred form. The head of the Goetia had revealed himself among the rest of the partygoers - seldom did he leave his own estate save for a few occasions. When he settled into a form that almost resembled a bird, his great height would tower over others and give an imposing presence throughout the room. Despite this, the minor king bowed before Lucifer's throne with elegance. "Your majesty, long have we waited to see you once more. How do you feel this day?"
"Pleasant, Paimon." He hated flattery but the facade made all of this high-class society more tolerable, "How fares your legion of children?"
"Impeccable sire. Nothing is ever more desirable than displaying the potency of one's seed. Apart from my son, Stolas, all is well in my house."
The Goetia was very prideful in his position but Lucifer did not mind that arrogance. So long as he knew his place, everything would be fine. Now that Paimon was in front of him, it was time to speak about the rumors of his son, one who more or less defied the conventions set upon by his father. If he was to play the court's games, information was key and his agents throughout the rings of Hell always collected. "Speaking of Stolas, are the rumors about his marriage true? That his wife is constantly at odds with him."
"Unfortunately, yes. I expected him to handle his marriage better but he did perform his duty," His attitude changed into one of fearful respect. Who could blame him? After all, he grasped the ruler's reach beyond the halls of this palace. Then a scowl was expressed on his despite maintaining his regal stance before the throne, "It is unfortunate when your child disappoints you as a father. You do everything in your power to bring them up but as they grow older, they act against your wishes. I am sure that you would understand given how Charlotte disgraces herself before the public."
"It is not the same."
Soon the demon noble raised an eyebrow as the fallen archangel rose from his seat and stepped forward with a cane in hand. That one comment was enough to spur his blood. "Surely, sire you would agree that your daughter is not fulfilling her obligations to you."
"No, you are gravely mistaken. Charlotte disagrees with me on a philosophical level but I can still be proud of her resolve despite public disapproval." He stopped before the Goetia, whose form towered before him. Then he pointed his cane to Paimon's chest, "Your son acts the way he is because of your insufferable behavior as a father. Be grateful that Lilith is present at this party as the venom of my voice would do more harm than any blade by my guards."
"I apologize for my transgressions."
Lucifer gestured for him to leave his presence as the Goetia demon left his side. Then he stood tall while his hand rested against his cane. As he looked around, he noticed a crow fluttering past the windows. Minutes passed as the ruler of Hell felt like he recognized the creature and so he departed from the room with uneventful curiosity as servants walked past him with food and drink through the hallways.
Those unfamiliar with his palace would be lost in the massive expanse. Yet, its shortcuts were apparent whenever Lilith and he needed to… relax. As he cut through the servant halls and passageways, his feet made their way into a beautiful garden that had been curated by his wife over time. Stone statues were placed near the sidewalks - gifts by skilled sinners - to freshly cut hedges that made up this hidden garden. What was truly tragic about this place is that no amount of beauty and artwork placed in this courtyard would ever match the garden of Eden.
In the center of the courtyard was a massive fountain, which had been showered in yellow by the lamplights. Soon the crow arrived and circled around him, fluttering its wings before descending into the concrete ground. A black spot was all that remained before a figure rose from the depths of darkness. Its shadow defied the shining of the light as a figure clad in black robes stood in front of him.
His brother made quite an entrance. "Azrael, what are you doing here?"
"Has Michael already told you what is going on in Heaven?" His voice scratched as the grim reaper's face remained hidden underneath his hood while a skeletal hand brandished a scythe, "I wouldn't have come here if it is not important."
"It was brief but yes. He has told me that there has been an attack. I didn't order it."
The hooded figure nodded his head. "I believe you."
"Now you trust me despite our past actions," Lucifer replied as old grievances surfaced, "My wife and I kept our word, and yet you have the gall to come down to my palace unannounced for a party meant to defy father's rule? What is so important that would have me come here?"
"Someone from Heaven's ranks may have organized an inside job to garner support for an invasion of Hell. We do not know who but we are absolutely certain that our ranks are itching to break the agreement signed by Heaven and Hell."
This was a bomb that fell into his lap as the fallen archangel's attitude changed and searched for possible suspects. "Who is it? Michael?"
"He's a possible suspect but I am not certain," Azrael shook his hood as he rested the shaft of his scythe on his shoulder and brandished a white bag from his cloak, "Do you want some?"
"What are you offering me?"
Skeletal bones rattled underneath the hood as if it was to mimic his laughter. "Donuts. Worry not, I am not trying to poison you. It's just that being Death and the head of Purgatory causes so much stress that I take pleasure in food."
"I would have been skeptical if someone else was here," Of all of the archangels that Lucifer fought against, Death was one he genuinely respected, "What kind of donuts?"
"Strawberry sprinkles."
Two archangels from two different kingdoms ate their treats among themselves. Any Heaven-born or Hellborn would have found the moment awkward but Lucifer did not care about another's opinion. At that moment, it almost felt like he was hanging out with one of his brothers in a time before he met Lilith.
Once they finished the last donut, Azrael broke the silence between them. "This might be a surprise to you but I have agents in Hell."
"You what? How long have they been here?" He demanded from his brother, "Here I thought you genuinely care about reconnecting with me."
"I want to but the council has been pressing down my neck that I feel it is necessary to divulge this information, lest our treaty breaks."
Lucifer folded his arms as anger stirred in his heart. "Speak, then."
"One of our agents is going to stay at Charlie's hotel," Came the reply as Azrael took a seat on a stone bench, "He's going to find a shipment of Heaven weaponry that might be located in Hell. Unfortunately, said agent is also a Redeemed so I don't want it to seem that I am trying to back your daughter if you did discover that."
"Do you know how much you have angered me?"
Death looked at the ground. "It was either I beg for forgiveness or ask for permission. The former seemed probable."
"Even when I have left his grace you and the others won't leave me alone," He stated as the fury of the past and his current wrath seemed to culminate, "Why shouldn't I strike you down?"
"We're still brothers despite all that has happened. I know you hate us for what we did but I am trying to help you. It is not so easy for me to do what I must while also making sure that your kingdom remains yours."
Lucifer heard several doors behind him shutter. "Someone is coming, you must leave. I'm in a middle of a party that is celebrating my defiance against Heaven."
"Worry not, it won't take much." Azrael answered as he reached for his scythe and tapped the ground, "Farewell, brother. I hope we meet in a better situation."
A bright flash appeared and as the fallen archangel blinked, his brother was gone.
Lilith's voice called out to him. "Dear, what has drawn you away from the party? Our guests have noticed your disappearance."
"It's nothing," He answered as turned around to see his wife approach him. A good excuse was necessary to hide what had just transpired, "I just needed some time with my thoughts."
"There's something wrong that you are not telling me."
How could she tell? "What makes you think that?"
"Your face says otherwise," She answered plainly before grabbing his hand and pulling him close, "Is the party too much for you?"
"No, it's not that."
He looked up at the sky to see the white dot past the pentagram moon.
"Just some old business I need to take care of."
Author's Note: I apologize for the massive delay. Unfortunately, I stopped typing up my chapter the moment the Immortal Empires campaign for Warhammer 3: Total War was released. So I spent countless weeks as Karl Franz.