Collin and his kin were now stuck in this mortal world and it demoralized them to their core. He and his friends were now banished from returning to Heaven for their failure to safeguard the one life they were tasked to deal with. A few days ago it would have been a normal day trying to turn a man into a Saved. He was a wealthy individual who could still help the world despite his sins; however, others wanted to change his fate. A group of imps had shown up from Hell and went out of their way to convince the old man to die by his hand. Cletus and Keenie - his coworkers - did everything in their power to convince Lyle Lipton to spend the rest of his days performing good deeds on behalf of humanity. They would have succeeded too if Satan's trash didn't drop a piano on him.
Three cherubs traveled alone throughout the human world in absolute despair. What could they do in such trying times? There was no way to resolve their situation without talking with their boss about the circumstances but without that explanation, there was no going back. Their lives would never be the same and the only source of shelter was abandoned buildings that the humans seldom lived in. Those that did were often the homeless or drug dealers wishing to conduct business in isolation. This meant that they would suffer the stress of having to find hiding spots away from contact but it would always get worse. Sometimes, the police would show up to bust the scenes and prevent the cherubs from their sleep or relative safety. It would get much worse if it ended with a shootout between the criminals and the authorities.
No matter where they went they would find no comfort.
Cletus and Keenie were out scavenging for food for the night. It was a hit or miss but what they brought back was better than those cold nights with pangs in their stomachs. Collins stayed behind and watched as the lights of a human city flickered in the distance. The mortals rarely displayed their beauty; however, this night was different as he sat on the edge of a rooftop. His loneliness at the abandoned school scared him and the only distraction from its empty hallways and the ghostly atmosphere was the city miles away.
He thought about the possibility of redeeming himself before Deerie, his boss, from the suffering of the consequences. Yet, redemption would have been out of place if his superiors deemed it insufficient. Then he remembered that one moment when he, Cletus, and Keenie had visited the hospital to brighten the mood of those souls. That one Saved had done something great and terrible against the Father and the Council but they were still able to absolve him of his sins. If he could return to the fold, why not a mere cherub?
The ground cracked behind and Collin turned around with the hope that his friends would return. "Hey guys, what did you get?"
"Shit!" Instead of the servants of Heaven, it was a human in a black suit and tie. His eyes were hidden away by sunglasses while carrying a strange gun in his hand, "Don't move if you know what is good for you."
"Oh god!"
The cherub jumped off the roof and descended towards the ground as his wings fluttered. Once he had control of himself he flew away from the school with terror in his heart. Humans were never meant to figure out the beings who watched over their souls when they died and it often did not end well. As he gained speed, part of him hoped that he would run into Cletus and Keenie to escape.
Soon the air felt like it was cut as his ears perked up at the sound approaching him. Looking over his head, a massive net was launched in his direction and encompassed his body. He barely had a chance to escape before landing on the ground trying to unwrap himself. Suddenly, the engines of a car roared in front of him and Collin saw a black van arrive in the parking lot of the abandoned high school. A woman peaked out of the driver's seat in a similar outfit as the other assailant, her face containing a smile on her face. "Nice shot, Agent One. Let's bag and tag him for management."
"Let me go," Cried out the sheep cherub with emotions so high he was on the edge of tears, "I've done nothing wrong."
"Get some sleep. You'll need it when you wake up."
The woman brandished a gun in her hand and aimed it at the incapacitated Collin. Seconds passed until he heard a small puff in the air and a dart embedded in his chest. He wanted to fight back and escape from his captors but he felt drowsy from the drugs slipping into his system. Then his strength faded away as a pair of footsteps clicked towards him from behind. "Cletus, Keenie…"
The great expanse of the Hazbin Hotel gave Artyom the space he needed to work on his weapons for I.M.P. His introduction to the staff and Charlie's fascinating company had been brief but hopefully, they would give him the privacy that he needed to perform his duties to Blitzo's business and the mission to find those responsible for the missing weapon shipment. A workshop was 'gifted' to him by the princess of Hell but so long as it doesn't cause destruction or get anyone hurt at the hotel she was fine with him fixing an arsenal for a group of assassins.
He made his way to this room through the hallways with a duffle bag containing an entire arsenal of I.M.P. weaponry. A tinge of jealousy coursed through his mind as he considered his workload back at his cubical. It would have been nice to have a bag of holding that would contain all of the paperwork and files. Yet, the surprising aspect of this moment was how much trust his boss was putting in him. Any other sinner who just arrived in Hell would have gladly stolen his property and tried to make a name for themself.
When he turned around the corner, a small skinny creature in a skirt rushed passed him and he barely caught wind of her words. "Nice to see you, got more cleaning to do, bye!"
Artyom paused and watched as the hotel's cleaner reached speeds that wouldn't have been possible if he were alive. Even in death, he still had to adjust to this new world and the strangeness it brought.
He proceeded further down the hallway to see a set of doors to the workshop open wide. Maybe it was Nifty's doing but he paid her no mind when he made his way inside. His gaze scanned across the room to see a wide variety of machines that served multiple functions. A pristine collection of tools and cabinets were organized neatly so neatly that it touch his soul as a gunsmith. All it did was encourage him to make a mess out of his room and break the weapons down so they can be remade like iron into steel.
Soon he placed the duffle bag down on the counter to his left as he reached into his pocket for a notepad. It contained an entire list of the weapons that Blitzo, Moxxie, and Millie wanted to be fixed by the end of the week. One could say his work was cut out for him but the truth was that he loved to tinker with weaponry ever since an old family friend introduced him to the armory at Exhibition station. Just as he flipped the cover over to see what weapon was at the top of his list, his mind paused to think about the person who was casually glossed over within his head.
Where was Hunter?
It had been a long time since Artyom had considered the fate of such a man. The last time they had spoken was when he left their station to kill the angels disguised as mutants. His soul was horrified at the realization of his whereabouts. With the knowledge he had about the Dark Ones, it would be impossible to find him in Heaven and that would imply his fate lay in the depths of Hell for the terrible sins he committed against the authority above all else.
He needed to concentrate on the mission and not get distracted by personal matters; however, this affair was indeed personal on its own merits. Perhaps he could afford the time to also search for him or seek out the man he admired. Maybe Uhlman could assist in seeing an old colleague from the old days? Nothing about this was comforting but perhaps it could give him some form of closure.
Someone approached the workshop and the young man turned around to see which one of Charlie's residents would appear. Old habits from traversing Metro tunnels in the darkness played an instrumental role in picking up the scent of perfume with his nose. The person snorted with great haste as he expressed his feelings upon entering. "Ah yeah! It's nice to get that poison in your veins. Hey, you're one of the new guys that Charlie introduced a couple of days ago."
"Yes," The undercover investigator replied as he studied the sinner in a sharp blazer trying to contain his fluffy white chest, "What brings you here?"
"Nothing, really. One of the perks of this hotel is that you can have your drugs in silence. That latino bitch can get on my nerves sometimes. What's your reason for being here?"
Artyom showed his notepad with the written list of weapons to fix. "Bringing my work home."
"That's not what I was talking about," Clarified the spider, "Why the fuck did you come to this hotel? Anyone who doesn't live with a head up their ass would know how ridiculous this whole building represents. Did you really buy into Charlie's idea of redemption?"
"No, not really. I just needed a place to stay and it just so turns out I know that woman with the hooved feet."
He hoped no one would truly look into his motivations and reasons for every decision he made. The last thing he wanted to deal with was Uhlman and the others trying to remind him of the importance of straightening out his story. Maybe the average sinner didn't think too much about it but he still had to mentally prepare for these eventualities. It was not like he could tell anyone that he was actually a redeemed soul.
"Say, do you like guns?"
The sinner smiled and left an impression with his humor. "Shooting or sucking them?"
"Oh," The reply caught him off-guard. His initial introduction with Angel Dust at the meeting should have been enough to tell but it certainly didn't prepare him for that joke, "The former."
"I absolutely love shooting the shit. Anyone can suck a dick dry but nothing beats the thrill of the kill. Ah, reminds me of those times with the Chicago Typewriter."
Curiosity grew in Artyom's mind as he wondered about the weapon given the way the stranger talked about it. "What kind of gun is that?"
"Thompson or Tommy gun as we gangsters like to call it," He answered with glee as two of his arms extended from his side and popped the American submachine gun in his hands, "It's a fine gun when you want to rip and tear."
"It's alright but it can jam on you if you don't fire it in bursts. Still doesn't beat a good old Kalashnikov."
His head perked up and his eyes dressed him down. "Ak-47s, really? I thought you would have something fancy for someone who enjoys assault rifles."
"What is that supposed to mean?" He asked relatively offended by the sinner's insinuation as he placed the notepad on the counter with his hands resting on his belt, "I'm Russian. That gun and I go together like… like…"
"Ha, you can't even come up with a decent analogy."
Why was this even happening? What was the point of this? Was it because it was nice to socialize with others? Still, he had his way with words. "You'll change your tune when I have to fix it like your mouth with cocks."
"Now you're getting me," The fallen soul seemed fine with the response as if he was entertained by the conversation he just had, "Railtracer, you're not what you seem. Maybe you'll fit right in with the rest of us?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
The spider slipped his gun back into his body as he walked towards the doorway while compressing his hands against his chest. "Let's just say I'm fond of having good company if you know what I mean."
Soon the ground shook at the night club but Valentino didn't mind that. Every time the subwoofers vibrated the building, it would match the rising sexual tension and his heartbeat. The higher the rise, the more it would make his whole body implode. Nonetheless, he had to keep an eye out for the DJ. There was so much he could do before paying for building damages.
The overlord laid his back against the sofa and relaxed. A cigarette - his own brand - was wrapped by his fingertips before he brought the butt to his lips and ingested his self-made poison. He groaned in pleasure as a wave of euphoria surged through his veins, awakening his damned soul with newfound stamina. All he needed was a nice piece of ass to settle for and it was a shame that Angel Dust was not here to provide the service. The ingrate had the gall to blow up one of his properties with his friend of his. Sooner or later, he'd pay the fool a visit for making him look weak in front of the others in Pentagram city.
Mewling gasps erupted to his right as his female companions stole the air out from each others' lips with each kiss. He appreciated their frenzy as their company could turn a room full of sinners and Hellborn into an orgy of sexual deviants. Even now, his body felt the urge to join them by just watching them but he couldn't afford the time for pleasure. As of right now, he had business to attend to.
Two red doors across the room had swung open as a beetle in a suit and tie mimicking human gestures had entered and he was not eager to speak. "Hey… boss… I know you said that we weren't supposed to interrupt your sessions but someone decided to attack your turf."
"What?" His drugged body began to focus upon hearing that offense. Did someone dare to challenge him? "Who the fuck thinks they're tough shit! Where did this happen?"
"We have some footage but we don't know who did it. Do you know the ugly fat bitch who owns the tv store? A couple of guys showed up and plastered the place with a grenade launcher."
It technically was not his territory but the raid was just as important to him. There were two other overlords that he allied with to pool together their resources and manpower - Velvette and Vox. Velvette was someone who enjoyed updating her social media whether it was partying with friends or showcasing her latest torture. Then there was Vox and it seemed likely that this property belonged to him given his obsession with anything related to the TV. "It looks like Vox is going to want payback. Send me the footage tomorrow, I'll check it out before meeting with him. Now leave."
"Anything you say, boss." Soon the sinner reached for the door handles and closed them as he shuffled his way out of the room.
The news caught him off-guard and his subordinate was very lucky he was in a good mood tonight. Now the best part was the thrill of combat in his mind. Every major gang was holding up and keeping their strength so they could survive Extermination Day but now that the wrath of Heaven was over, Valentino felt it was the perfect time to expand and kickstart another war. It's likely that some gangs have been weakened or killed, leaving behind free territory for others to carve up. Yet, those scrambling for a worthy reputation failed to realize that any assertation came at the cost of consolidating for a fight.
He was going to enjoy the thrill of dealing with these fools. Now the thought alone had spurred his lust. "Alright girls, why don't you give papa some loving."
Soon his sexual minxes rose up from the couch and walked in front of him. They were half his size but it didn't matter to him. The furry squirrel-like girl to his right had begun to purr as her hand touched his lap. "What's wrong daddy? Do you need to release some tension? A massage?"
"You girls can do what you want," He began as his hands slowly took off his coat and revealed his bare chest, "A fight is coming and I want to feel like a king."
He had made a mess in the workshop but he spent the following hours cleaning up the counters covered in oil. It was all worth it in the end as he arrived at the room that Charlie wanted him to sleep in. Nothing about it was bad but perhaps the quarters were a bit too extravagant, even for him. He always preferred to have function over form.
The duffle bag full of weapons was tossed onto the carpet floor as the undercover investigator took the moment to relax his mind. As he closed the door and locked it shut, he jumped onto his bed and embraced the soft and comfortable sheets. Fixing guns was expected of him but trying to properly make a rocket launcher efficient was a totally different affair altogether. Especially, when it involved a live warhead that could explode at any moment.
Now that he was truly alone in an enclosed space, his hand reached for the bracelet on his wrist and took it off. A moment later, his second skin had disappeared and a human form took place of his sinner one. So long as no one opened the door without his permission or looked through the window, he was fine and could be himself without worry.
His phone rang and the Russian eagerly reached for his pocket before turning his head out of the comfort of the pillows to see that Uhlman was calling him. What did he have to say right now? Upon tapping the answer icon, he waited for the first words to come out of his old colleague. "Good job on settling inside the hotel but don't get too comfortable. I sent Mr. Morrison to sneak around and sabotage some of the weaponry at the I.M.P. arsenal just so Blitzo can have a reason to visit an arms market."
"What will happen then?" Artyom was curious about his old friend's plan, "I hope you're not coming up with something incredibly dangerous."
A laugh erupted on the other side of the call. "It's okay. This is all hands on deck at the safe house. Hopefully, we'll find the missing shipment or any hint of its trace. If you have anything going on tomorrow, clear it. Also, give your boss a call. Knowing how much he loves this job, he's going to call off vacation to unfuck this mess. Get some rest, you'll need it."