Stella hated it when her husband ran off to find entertainment for himself. It was an embarrassment and a public disgrace to her standing among the Ars Goetia. She found it very difficult to enjoy the lavish parties while hearing the rumors and whispers of her peers expressing their sorry apologies or remarks about the misfortune of fate ever since Stolas openly admitted to sleeping with an imp. This marriage should not have happened in the first place but she swallowed her pride when her father explained that it would have strengthened the powers of her family the longer she tolerated his antics. Once she bore the child, agreed upon between him and Lord Paimon, the strong-willed woman could go her separate ways. Despite it all, the lady found moments of joy at the expense of her supposed significant other.
The wife of the manor strode through the hallway with a tall and regal composure. With docile carnivorous plants on her left and official family portraits on the right, the owl contemplated the future of her position within the family. Octavia showed absolute indifference whenever those 'conversations' with her father rose. So it was a small blessing in disguise and the woman intended to take advantage of those emotions since it would be easy to dispose of him. She approached the path leading into the kitchen as thoughts about the perks and responsibilities laid on her shoulders the moment his death came to fruition.
Once at the doorway, she found the pathetic excuse of a noble trudging away from the refrigerator with a bowl of milk and cereal in his hand. Dark puffs under his eyes were noticeable as the man was on his phone talking to someone while making his way toward the table on the other side of the room. Simply seeing him made her blood boil as she forgot her mannerisms and stomped her feet toward him. He supposedly had been out for work last night but it was probably an excuse. Stolas always had an excuse so he could enjoy galavant pleasures of the flesh with the plebians of Hell. "Where did you go last night?! Did you decide to meet with another imp for some frivolous sex or just get away from me this time?
"Not now," He said while looking over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of her expression as he casually took his seat at the head of a table. Then he ignored her and returned to the conversation he had on the phone. "Apologies, my wife walked into the room."
"Address me right now." It was not normal for her to be ignored like this. He was always weak-willed whenever her wrath was let out but this was perhaps the one moment she was not taken seriously. Such behavior was unthinkable in her eyes; especially, when he displayed complete disregard for social order and expectations of the Ars Goetia. More importantly, he needed to be reminded that she was the one in control no matter the cost. Even a hint of personal agency had to be dominated by her will.
"Dear, I am busy so will you please go somewhere else."
The fact that he had the ounce of courage to even say those words, infuriated her. Normally, he would be weak-willed and attempt to appeal to her better nature lest the rage continued. Now? He was genuinely resisting her authority within this marriage of theirs. She looked at his phone and thought about making his life more miserable than before. Soon the woman snatched the device out of his hands, witnessing the shock on his face. It was a delicious moment to spite him. "Whoever the fuck you are, stop trying to get my husband to suck your cock!"
"Do you have any idea what you've done?!" Stolas expressed his horror as he rose from his seat.
"I do. That should get your attention to listen to me. I am someone you should never ignore in your life. Do you understand me?"
Her spine felt a strange chill as she noticed the feathers on their bodies begin to size up from underneath their clothes. It was a strange moment as the kitchen darkened and a haunting howl of the wind seeped into the room. A minute passed before the surrounding atmosphere returned to normal but the owl knew something terrible had befallen them. Stella did not know what it was until a commanding voice spoke from behind their backs. "Am I interrupting something personal?"
Husband and wife turned around to find a fallen archangel in a white suit and a red-striped vest. At his side was a cane with a red apple planted at the top. Stolas scrambled out of his chair and bowed at the presence of his liege as the woman of the house could barely express her shock. "You're majesty, how did you get here?"
"Do people really forget that I'm an archangel around these parts? I should get out more often if that is the case," He stated with annoyance as the palm of his hand rested on the top of the apple cane. Then his eyes trailed towards her, fiery eyes containing his absolute judgment, "I was holding a conversation with your husband about some important matters before you took the phone and made quite the statement."
"I-I didn't know it was you on the phone."
"You have caller ID. That is no excuse." To see the look of disappointment on his face was enough for Stella to realize how much her rage had cost her against Stolas. Blood in her cheeks began to warm, containing her embarrassment before lowering her head in shame. Then the ruler of Hell turned to the husband while her head gently looked up and caught a glimpse of his graceful stride.
He walked up to her husband and used his free hand to gesture to him to rise. "I understand the tense relationship you have with the members of your family. So, I will make this short. There is a sinner you have in the cells, one who broke one of our well-defined rules last night. Bring me to him, we need to talk. This is not a chastisement as you're simply performing your duty. It's just that the individual in question is dealing with affairs above your status."
Stolas nodded his head, acknowledging his superior. "As you wish, my men have him in the holding cells."
"Good," Lucifer answered with a satisfied smile on his lips, "Now I understand the official policy to provide unending punishment for those who break the rules; however, this instance is quite different. Order your men to leave him be, he must not be harmed under any circumstances."
Stella remained quiet as she watched the weakling lead the sovereign of the dark realm into the dungeons underneath their home. The earlier fiasco was a mistake but one she would learn from. Nonetheless, the monarch's arrival did not change the paradigm and plans she had in store for Stolas. All that was needed was patience for an assassin to make his move on a noble Hellborn. Once the contract was completed, the killer would receive his just reward and this family would be free from this absolute disgrace of a son and husband. The bloodline shall continue but without any immediate obstacles.
The arrest of a Purgatory investigator alarmed those who watched Artyom's rescue of I.M.P's CEO. The potential conflict was at hand as the Archangel of Death immediately returned to his office to discover a way to rescue the department's own while maintaining the status quo of hiding Heaven's agents among the denizens of Hell. Tony would have assisted his superior with coordinating the various safe houses throughout Pride. Yet, Azrael ordered him to focus on a much more mundane matter, the weapon that their disguised redeemed had picked up in a hideout full of demon hunters.
Courier Six pulled out a cigarette and a lighter from his trench coat, starting his smoke break in the confines of an elevator. If the Grim Reaper felt concerned about such a slight detail, then he knew it was important to seek out the information. What it was, he would find out soon enough when his ride reached the Librarian's floor. Few members of the department had access to such a location due to its vast archives containing valuable knowledge such as the names of sinners who had been designated as 'Angel Slayers' or top secret documents about the existence of secret and magical conclaves living throughout each reality of Earth.
Once the elevator stopped and its doors opened, the wastelander walked out and found himself in the shadow of book aisles, each perfectly organized as far as the eye could see. One could get lost here and a great deal of people have gone missing trying to find obscure files and boxes hidden away. In front of him was a front desk occupied by a man in a white shirt, black tie, and a brown trench coat. The individual was focusing his full attention on the desktop computer on his left as he reached out for an open pizza box on the counter for a slice. Behind him was a sign stating that it had been thirty-six days since a person had been declared lost in the library. He greeted him in an English accent. "Hello, my name is Detective Hannigan, formerly of Scotland Yard. What can I do for you today?"
"You did receive the footage we sent you earlier?" Tony hoped that this man reviewed the video with the hope of saving time before proceeding with his current mission. One could lose hours trying to find a book on this floor and it was a commodity that he could not afford.
"I skimmed through it but my girlfriend recognized the sword instantly," He answered with an approving nod as he looked up from his desk with tired bloodshot eyes, "From what she says, it's a blessed zweihander. Ironically, this would be under my purview since I dabble in a bit of druid lore."
He took a quick whiff of his cigarette before reaching out and taking the pizza from his desk. "You don't mind?"
"It's fine. The people from the mess hall are constantly giving me a box every day." Once the assurance was made clear, Tony took his share and took one large bite.
"So to give a bit of context, the two-handed sword came into existence during the Thirty Years' War. Germanic druids found a way to get this weapon to be blessed by the angels before they handed it off to some nobleman in the various battles. Since then, it has been lost to time and it's likely that the D.H.O.R.K.S picked up given their enjoyment for Edo-period Japanese weaponry.
The Courier was not one to criticize but he knew damn well that those mortals were outmatched the moment their building was infiltrated by a sinner and the Hellborn. Simply seeing how they set out to face them in melee until Blitzo's crew killed them was enough to scoff at their stupidity and part of him wondered if he could ask them a few questions since their souls were assuredly processed through an army of office workers. He put that thought at the back of his mind as he swallowed the food in his mouth and made a question about Artyom being able to make the blessed two-handed sword appear out of thin air. "Any reason why one of our own would be able to make it disappear like magic?"
"I can, actually," Hannigan answered as he typed into his computer, "The weapon has a unique feature where it will attach itself to a user if it deems him or her, worthy as a service weapon."
"Interesting." The phrase 'service weapon' had a unique meaning to his ears. After the Department of Purgatory had settled an agreement with the Federal Bureau of Control, Tony spent some time working in conjunction with these specific mortals and the jargon they spoke among themselves. If the zweihander was a service weapon, then his Russian coworker would possess it permanently. However, it also meant that the man would need to learn how to use a Renassaince-era blade if he had to keep it. The question was… who would be his teacher?
A redeemed disguised as a sinner laid down on his cot within the confines of his cold and dark cell. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, which was merely a catwalk where armored guards in crimson red made their casual patrols, the stomping rattling against the metal. One could hardly sleep when the sentries made their rounds but Artyom was not like most people. To the dead stalker, it was a relieving sound that he was in safe company and no mutant or unwanted wildlife would sneak up on him during sleep. Ironic, yet, it set him apart from the others within this great prison system.
He thought about earlier when he was passing through the other blocks. Men and women, sinner and Hellborn alike were eager to greet him as another victim in this fortress of a dungeon. Some were eager to treat him as another plaything, whether it was sexual harassment or a bully's pride. The investigator remained hopeful in despite of the scenes of horrors, his mission with the lost weapon shipment was too great to ignore and it was likely that Uhlman would rescue him at some point in time. There was a slight consideration of making his own escape with that strange sword he quietly kept to himself; however, his unfamiliarity with the weapon meant his proficiency was at an all-time low. Until he could trust himself at wielding the blade, the dead Polis Ranger would have to endure this pit of senseless torture and agonizing screams, biding his time for an opportunity.
The cell block received a new visitor and his ears could not tell if it was a new prisoner coming in or another unfortunate being dragged out. All that he did know, in his short time here, was that the prisoners who left were never expected to return. A pair of armored feet shuffled against the concrete as Artyom's stomach churned at his approach. His eyes looked past the bars in the hallway, seeing the other denizens keep as much distance as they could from the on-coming soldiers. An aura of fear took over but the post-apocalypse survivor clenched his hands into a fist and slowly breathed in through his nose before releasing that air by opening his lips.
A tall armored figure stopped at his cell and turned her European Medieval helmet towards his direction. Black slits were etched into the face of the head encased in steel, showcasing the guard's focus. In a strange anachronistic fashion, the unknown individual had a holstered pistol strapped to his side. Then a voice of a woman directed her disdain towards him. "Prisoner Six-Two-Seven, you have been summoned. Stand up and put your hands against the wall."
"Don't listen to the bitch!" Shouted a prisoner in another cell, "You don't have to take shit from nobody."
"Shoot him. I don't have time for his bullshit," Artyom rose from the sleeping furniture and obeyed without hesitation. As he planted his palms against the wall on his left, a gunshot rang out before the unknown howled, "Turn around carefully with your hands up and approach me. Any sudden movements and I will have the authorization to put you down."
He obeyed and approached the guard as the cell doors automatically slid open. As he closed the distance, the guard stepped to his left and placed her gauntlet on the pistol grip peeking out of the holster. She used her free hand to point him to move in the other direction before he exited his cell and had multiple lights shine on him from above. His eyes glanced up and saw two guards along the metal parapet aim their glowing white assault rifles at him. Even if he was to overpower the one beside him, his chances of escape were impossible under these circumstances. Soon he turned to his right and walked forward. There was a large door on the other side of the corridor and it was likely that he would be out of the line sight of the others if he tried to use his newly acquired sword.
Someone groaned on his flanks before he swiped a look at a cell on his left. An imp had been curled up, writhing in pain as his blood seeped out on the floor. It was a dark sight knowing that the people running this place would not heal his wound if they tried. Then he was interrupted when the collar on the back of his shirt had been grabbed before his body was shoved towards the door. "Eyes forward!"
It was a reluctant feeling to leave the man behind and let him suffer his own fate but real-life experience had taught Artyom to understand that he couldn't help those in need if he was dead. Yet, the sight would leave a mark on his conscience as he arrived at the green metal door. Mechanisms on the other side began to spin and crank until they stopped and three loud bell rings blared through the speakerphone. Inside was a long rectangular table with one empty chair on his side of the room and another, occupied, one on the far side of the room. A handsome blonde figure smiled with one leg crossed over the other in the attire of a white suit with shades of red on the edges. He raised his top hat containing a pink serpent wrapped around while a cane attached to a red apple rested across his lap. "Guard, leave us."
"Your majesty, are you sure you want to leave the prisoner with you? He may-"
"I know what I am capable of," Commanded the well-dressed individual, "A single sinner is not going to change that. Now go."
She shoved the prisoner inside before closing the door on her way out. Now it was just two people alone in a room. The person seemed familiar despite the dimly lit atmosphere but then memory came over him. Artyom recalled his time at the Hazbin Hotel and the various portraits on the wall. At the time, he did not seem to care at that moment until the Russian came to the realization of the one painting that showed Princess Charlie in the center with her mother on the left and father on the right. His eyes widened when he gazed upon the man in front of him. "You're Lucifer."
"Here I am in the flesh. Why don't you take a seat, Railtracer?" The ruler of Hell leaned forward and extended a hand, reaching out to the empty chair at the center of the room. The investigator lowered his hands as he reluctantly approached and took his place from across the table.
"I suppose I am here because of what happened?"
"Yes," Answered the Devil as his resting leg slipped off and his foot found a place on the floor. Then he grabbed his cane and brought it to his side where it stood up from the ground and with the palm resting on top, "We have a rule here in Hell, no sinner is allowed to leave the Pride level, whether it is for the other levels or to the mortal realms."
He hoped that his reasons would be understandable; however, doubt took over and Artyom needed to test the limits of the man's authority. "Even if I was helping a friendly Hellborn out?"
"Even if you were helping him out. Now I.M.P is under fire for their assassinations but I can overlook their crimes since they know how to clean themselves up after making themselves known. You, on the other hand, are not a Hellborn. So your punishments are far more severe." The tone in his voice shifted into a serious warden lording over him but the very fact that he was face-to-face with the man who challenged the Heavens itself. Underestimating the monarch would be an end to his existence and so patience took over the prisoner's mind, contemplating his situation.
Now that he was finished with the explanation of the imprisonment, it was time to test the waters. "So what do you intend to do now that I am here?"
"Fortunately for you," His expression revealed a great smile before he let out a slight chuckle, "I know that you are not a sinner."
"Excuse me?"
"The moment that you were arrested, my brother decided to call me about your plight. Isn't that right, Azrael?" Artyom saw the shadows move on his right as the Grim Reaper himself joined the duo underneath the light. The beam shimmered over his face, briefly showing a human skull before disappearing into eternal darkness.
The Archangel of Death approached the table and produced a white bag from his robes, only to toss it on the table. "Donuts, anyone?"
"I'll have a bite."
It was a surprising moment since the previous encounter with the head of the department. There were no words to describe his complete disbelief as Lucifer reached for the bag and pushed the white bag over to the disguised saved. He considered the offer his superior brought but his first question was about the niceties between Death and his relatives. "What are you doing here?"
"He is actually the reason why this meeting had to happen," Answered the ruler of Hell as Artyom gestured towards the white bag and the Grim Reaper passed the donuts on to him. Once he picked a chocolate-frosted one covered in sprinkles, Lucifer continued, "I wanted to get a good inspection of the department's agent being planted at my daughter's hotel."
"For what purpose? I am not exactly special outside of my desire to get justice." Came his reply before taking a bite from the sweet and sugary delicacy.
The monarch of the dark realm devoured his share and swallowed, clearing his throat for a response. "Brother, what is he talking about?"
"The saved sitting across from you is a survivor of the convoy attack," Azrael answered in a serious tone as if he understood Artyom's situation, "He is here to avenge a father-in-law who was killed there. I am here to oblige him with the hope his personal motivation would lead him to our suspects."
"Even now, you have moments of frightening logic." Remarked the fallen archangel as he stared at the robed figure in the room.
"Everyone always says that. My investigator will still be on his search with the others but he will be reassigned to your daughter's hotel when not on a mission."
The post-apocalypse survivor turned to his superior with absolute confusion. He was hoping to search for his assailants, not be relegated to guard duty. "Sir, couldn't you put someone else in my place?"
"Unfortunately, no," He answered plainly, "You are conveniently placed beside the hotel and the latest intelligence gathering has changed our calculus. Lucifer's daughter is being targeted and you being an Angel Slayer would be the difference between saving and slaughter."
"Will this interfere with my placement at I.M.P?" There was much responsibility being placed upon his shoulders if these two were here to change the direction of his objectives.
The king of Hell had spoken as he licked his fingers clean of the chocolate and sprinkles before reaching into his coat and revealing a badge on the flat surface of the table. "Not at all. If anything, your latest actions have brought you to my attention. By protecting my daughter, you'll have my thanks, and more importantly, my authority to carry out your mission unimpeded."
His hands slide the object over into the Russian's side.
"Hell has its rules as much as Heaven but this will bypass all of that. If you ever need to get into the other levels of Hell, this badge will grant you the authority all sinners wish they had."
He looked down and saw the intricate image of a bloodied hand carrying an upside-down red cross. Below the symbol was a phrase, 'Nefas Mandatum' as the saved looked up at Lucifer. "Are you sure this will work for me?"
"Yes. Any Hellborn worth their status and sinner their soul must acknowledge this badge. This is not a request that they can refuse but an order that must be obeyed. Otherwise, I will send someone to personally visit them." Confidence and pride exuded from his tone; yet, Artyom was unsure of its full range of capabilities until he saw it in action. This was an escalation of means he had not expected but now it had arrived thanks to the head of the department showing up and saving him from his fate in these cells.
"So, what happens now?"
The devil rose from his chair and pointed his cane at him. "You are to come with me and visit my daughter. My wife and I planned to visit her when available. So it would be a fun trip to see what colorful characters she has recruited on her mad quest. Though, it is a shame that Azrael cannot join us."
Then the Archangel of Death raised his hand to gesture to the disguised saved and the royal his refusal. "There is much to be done. I need to assure Artyom's comrades that they don't need to rescue him and my second-in-command is dealing with some… priority intelligence."
"Very well then," Lucifer stated as he walked over to the door on the left side of the room, "Come now, spy-agent-whatever you are. We have a limo to catch."
Agent One sat beside his partner in the hospital after the attack on the D.H.O.R.K.S. hideout. She rested quietly in her bed while his elbows rested upon his knees and his fingertips slipped past each other, tying both hands together. This morning was one of those rare moments where he showed genuine care for Agent Two as she quietly slept through the medication. He recollected his encounter with the demons last night, seeing her take a bullet before capturing their prey. Normally, he would have been eager and happy to see them in their custody but now the agent pondered about less risky tactics so his friend wouldn't get killed in the process.
A phone rang behind his back.
The duo was fortunate that they left for a medical facility owned by management. Agent One heard reports and rumors about his coworkers being overrun by armored demonic soldiers with machine guns and swords clearing out ninety percent of the crew there. He knew that hunting the denizens of Hell was dangerous but the man didn't expect it to escalate the bloodshed to such a degree. He hoped that his efforts at showing management about their existence would be enough to be taken seriously.
A phone rang behind his back.
His hand reached out and held his partner's palm with the hope that the unconscious Agent Two would recover. The young man remembered when they met on his first assignment. She was always the one who helped him deal with the bureaucracy of management, whether it was the nonsensical aspects of its rules or how it operated during regular human society. Nonetheless, he owed it to her for making his work bearable. Despite his honest feelings for her well-being, the D.H.O.R.K.S. agent bottled it up so that she did not know.
A phone rang behind his back.
This was the third time it rang and the man grew tired that no one answered. Agent One stood up and straightened his bloodied jacket before turning around to face the door. Then he paused when his eyes saw a strange detail he never knew before, there wasn't a metal door when he came in. At the bottom, there was a visible glimpse of light on the other side but it blinked three times. His stomach churned as if they could feel the dread coming for him and so the agent reached for his holster on the right side of his body and pulled out a Glock pistol.
The employee cautiously stepped forward and unlocked the handle before pushing the door forward. Why did it push that way? The hospital only had doors that pushed inwards towards the patient rooms. His thoughts shifted upon finding himself standing inside a dark-lit room where the floors were carpet red and wooden panel walls. To call it strange was an understatement as he should have entered the hallway, not a dead end. Whatever was happening, he did not like it and this situation terrified him within his soul. Then he thought about Agent Two, causing him to look over his shoulder to find her resting on the cot as usual. He didn't want to leave her; yet, this strange phenomenon needed to be investigated.
When he turned his head forward, the scenery changed with a painting on the wall ahead of him. Its borders seemed to emanate light, shining itself within the shadows while a string light switch hung from the left side of the picture. It was an ominous moment for him as he approached the wall, gaining a closer look at the scenery, only to find a red-headed woman in a black jacket working behind a desk in an office. Past her was a rectangular shape of white light that filled her room with light while her flanks were secured by shelves containing books and cabinets. Just who in their right mind would be inspired to create this dreary sight?
Everything about this room was surreal for him to accept. If he had a camera with recording software, management would be glad to see this information. Then his mind felt a strange sensation as if suggested by a power beyond imagination. His head turned and looked at the string light switch before his body urged him to reach out and pull. This was crazy to accept but morbid curiosity took the better of Agent One as his fingers wrapped themselves around the string and pulled. The border lights around the painting flickered three times as he observed the consequence of his actions.
He blinked his eyes and found himself standing inside the room of that picture. "What the hell?"
"Hell has nothing to do with this," Answered a soft-spoken woman before the demon hunter discovered the woman in front of him was speaking. His mind could not believe what he was experiencing as he holstered his pistol and patted his chest to see if he was in a dream. Then his gaze focused on the stranger ahead of him, she had set down her pen and straightened her back from the deskwork. The redheaded woman was staring directly at him, "Agent One, I presume?"
"Who are you? What is this place? How am I here?" These were a flurry of questions that were released from his head, trying to acknowledge the senseless situation he had found himself in.
"Take a seat."
Her hand reached out towards him before he noticed the arm retracting from across the desk as if pulling something. Then the man was taken aback when a chair knocked him into a seat as it slid across the floor before her hand guided the wooden armchair to be placed across the woman's side of the desk. "I-I don't understand. This has to be a dream."
"Oh, how I wish it was so simple." She smiled, content with her answer before leaning back against her chair.
"Is this about yesterday?"
The woman chuckled. "It's more than that. You are one of the few people who have come into contact with the demons of Hell."
"Am I in trouble?" It had to be the reason. He and his partner left when the hideout was almost wiped out, "Please, there has to be a misunderstanding?"
"Welcome to my office, here at the Federal Bureau of Control. You are one of the few people in existence to know about our organization, whom we haven't immediately eliminated from our list. My employees know me as the director but you can call me Jesse Faden."
"Miss Faden, what is going to happen to me?" Agent One did not know what to do as this was entirely beyond him. D.H.O.R.K.S. did not train him for this.
"Simple. Last night, you and your organization are interfering with things way above your understanding. Mortals are not meant to know about what goes on afterlife when their soul leaves the body unless my friends at the Department of Purgatory think it's alright to say something," She answered before crossing her arms while shaking her head in disappointment, "What we don't need is a bunch of amateurs causing a mess for a joint operation whose lives depend on it."
Just the way she directed the fury of her words was enough for him to realize that his organization may have been over their heads. It was a horrifying thought process for him to realize that the world he knew had gotten smaller. "Oh."
"Really? Is that all you're going to say?"
"There's not much I can say, Jesse," He replied, holstering his pistol while expressing himself to this complete stranger, "My entire job is revolved around hunting down demons so we can be taken seriously!"
"But now you are being treated as a serious problem. It's bad enough that your people kidnapped a cherub but you should consider your lucky stars that the Archangel of Death hasn't shown up to take him out of your custody by force or even sent the Gendarmes to kill you for him." The director rose from her chair and planted her palms on the desk before looking down at him.
"Wait, you know about that?"
A hard gaze stared into his soul. "Heaven has a lot of agents everywhere. You would have to be an idiot to believe your snatch and grab went unnoticed."
"So," He thought about his previous assignment beforehand. Agent One remembered how the sheep with wings was trying to escape him and his partner. Never did he believe it would come back to bite him in the ass, "You want me to hand him over to you?"
"Pretty much; however, I need you to do something when you get back."
"Which is?" Despite the initial impressions of his arrival, the woman in front of him had grown a lot more terrifying than her portrait implied.
She took a few steps away from her desk and turned around to look at the rectangular light. Several minutes passed, contemplating a response until her ultimatum came. "Your management will start asking questions about the incident. Do not tell them everything you've seen or heard of. You never saw the imps, you never saw the portal to Hell, and your girlfriend was shot by a mugger in an alleyway."
"You want me to keep quiet about that?" It was such a tall request coming from her. Then again, the woman seemed to have power unbecoming of an average person. Just what right did she have to discourage him from his job? Yet, all of his thought subsided when he focused on the last detail of her sentence, "Wait a minute, Agent Two is my partner. She is not my girlfriend!"
"Tell yourself that. You're lucky Cupid is not around." The mood changed when Jessie turned around and laughed at his expense.
"Wait, he's the real deal?"
"I wish I could tell you but Heaven only lets me work with the Archangel of Death," Soon the director slipped her hands in the pockets of her jacket, "Remember what I said about management? Tell them nothing. Now I got some errands to run and a joint operation to participate in. So it's time we end this conversation."
A phone rang behind his back.
Agent One was shaken as he found himself sitting in the chair beside his partner once again. The transition was unexplainable but it felt like he was teleported back to his reality. He looked over his shoulder to see the door open inward as nurses and doctors passed by his room. His ears heard the phone ringing as receptionists took in calls, answering them outside the man's vision. Maybe it was a dream; yet, it felt so real.
Vaggie had been organizing the appearance of the hotel since the morning. She had been busy ensuring the furniture and the other decorations looked presentable. Even if the hotel didn't receive new occupants, the Salvadorian put her sweat and tears to do things right ever since her previous encounter with Lucifer. Fortunately, Nifty proved her worth when she assisted with the dusting and vacuuming. Much time was spared from the sinner personally dealing with every minutia of details. At the same time, her girlfriend was focused on helping the others get dressed for the occasion. It would have been embarrassing if Angel Dust approached her father with nothing more than leather and straps. Then again, it was in the Radio Demon's purview as he seemed to have a fine taste for the expensive apparel - a blessing in disguise despite the sinner's misgivings about his intentions. Even now, she trusted him as far as her throwing arm could allow for an exterminator spear.
Her skin felt fresh after half an hour spent in the shower. The moth girl looked at the mirror in front of her to not only admire the recently combed hair but to see the full display of the buttoned-up red shirt and the black skirt as part of her hotel uniform. It made her feel professional and it offset the color of her gray skin and white hair. Part of her felt like she could be working at a diner; however, there was no strict dress code to keep the young woman from wearing sleeves and stockings. She wanted to spend another minute at the appearance until she looked past her head to find the resident overlord step inside.
An unsettling smile caught a glimpse of her beauty as she turned around to find him standing in the doorway with his microphone cane wrapped around his fingertips. Despite her personal feelings for him, the sinner had to placate the man's sensibilities lest his wrath was unleashed upon the hotel. After all, he was helping her highness and herself to attract the lowest common scum of Pride. "What are you doing in my room?"
"Well, darling," Vaggie hated his deceitful demeanor as he approached her makeup desk, "Your charming lass want me to tell you to come down to the living room and see the others before his majesty arrives."
"Why come here then? Couldn't you have Nifty do it instead?" All overlords had a purpose for their actions as their infamy originated from that. Yet, she remained calm under his presence.
"She is too busy with her work to care about something so important as our upcoming conversation."
What exactly did he have to say to her? "Such as?" She took her seat on the stool in front of the desk while eyeing him with hostility.
He let out a chuckle and placed his free hand behind his back and leaned on the microphone cane. "You and I both know that Charlie is quite… optimistic when it comes to her world views. While she is indeed capable of acknowledging and recognizing someone's sinful pleasures, your love can sometimes overlook specific details."
"You are getting at something and I do not like what that is implying," Replied the moth sinner. Not only was it genuine but trusting an overlord was a damned fate for many who lived in the depths of Hell, "Get on with it."
"I believe that one of our guests is not who they say they are." Alastor added with his remarkably evil smile of his.
"Are you trying to say that one of our hotel guests is playing at her Charlie's dreams? That's quite the claim."
Then he walked from right to left thinking to himself. "Indeed it is but I may have probable cause," His microphone was brought near his face before he tapped it with his chin, leaving a quiet tap when they made contact, "There is something going on in the shadows that deserves our attention. In isolation, we would not think much of it but one of our guests is trying to play us for fools. I'll have to introduce you to my evidence when our schedules are free. Until then, let us see our king of the damned."
Alastor, the Radio Demon, was quick to leave the room when he finished talking before she felt a sense of disbelief at his statements. He was known for being a sly bastard and a ruthless dealer in sinner's lives, whether it was the remarkably unusual Nifty or the displeasure of Husk's opinions on the man. Yet, Vaggie now felt unsure about her own reactions to the overlord's statements. People like him always preyed on others and took advantage of their fears. How could he be any different?
Perhaps it was not worth looking into as the sinner straightened out her clothes and departed to the lobby, where the initial visit would take place. She put Alastor's words at the back of her mind as she thought about Lucifer's arrival. His initial impressions of her at the royal palace were not good. Actually, it was incredibly embarrassing for her that she made pleasure with his daughter when the public was visiting that fateful day. What came after was the surprising part as he seemed approving of the relationship but wanted her to discourage her girlfriend from seeking out the idea of redeeming sinners. Every time he spoke of it, the young woman saw a glimpse of pain in his eyes as if there was an experience that no one would understand. She thought about trying to downplay the hopes of his daughter's idea but she was just as determined to see it through as well as her father was to see it undone. If he was unconvinced since their last discussion, what more could he add that hadn't been unsaid?
Her mind was interrupted when a door to the left abruptly swung open by the hotel's first occupant, Angel Dust. Dressed in a pink tailored suit, he buttoned the jacket and adjusted the fedora atop his head. "Say what you will about the strawberry pimp but he knows my fashion. Say, Spanish tits, what do you think of my outfit? Does it look like I'll be able to fuck a bluebird?"
"Watch it! You almost slammed the door on me," She said, annoyed by his sudden arrival as she walked down the hallway toward her destination.
"Hey, wait up!" Shouted the homosexual sinner as he shuffled his feet to join her and kept his own suit clean and straightened out, "I'm sorry that I got too excited back there. It's been a while since I had a decent party that wasn't about brushing my teeth with a good cock."
"Did Charlie ever teach you proper manners while I was changing?"
Then he let out a snicker at the question before they marched into a stairwell and descended from each step together. "She taught me enough. Refer to her dad and mom as majesty and keep my sailor mouth in the closet. It's almost the same as my time with Valentino."
Merely hearing his name was enough to keep her from replying with an insult to the first person that Charlie attempted to rehabilitate. Angel was someone who endured his own personal hell at that overlord's hands, the mess of his bedroom a testament to his own feelings on the matter. Despite her misgivings about his current behavior, Vaggie still had sympathy for him even after the disaster with Katie Killjoy.
"Though, what's weird is that Railtracer wasn't around for that. In fact, I don't think he came back since last night."
Just what she needed. Everything seemed to be going well until now aside from Alastor's attempts at convincing her that someone was suspect. Charlie was not going to be pleased and more importantly, part of her was worried that the sinner was going to interrupt the visit with his return. "Great, just great. Here's hoping her dad doesn't ask what he does in his spare time."
"A guy like him is probably busy shooting the shit with his pals at work," He remarked with a dismissive wave of his hand, "You should probably relax before your head explodes from the stress."
"Angel, this is serious."
"I know it is but having an aneurysm isn't going to solve the problem. Besides, we can hope for the best that this visit will be short and Railtracer wouldn't even know missed a thing." She hated to admit it but the porn star seemed to have point. If they could make the whole visit short, then everything would be fine and dandy. It was a hopeful thought as Hell was not a place for having organized and planned events that went well.
When they reached the base of the stairs, both stepped into the hallway proceeding into the lobby area. She saw the princess of Hell wearing a red tuxedo jacket and a black suspender step out of the room on the far left before turning around to express joy while hearing a groan. "Come on, you can afford to have a smile. Look at how Mrs. Mayberry is handling this. She's a natural."
Husk expressed his opinion while out of view. "That's because she's a teacher. She has the luxury of trying to cheer up thirty brats at a time."
"I know you want to go back to drinking and drown yourself in sorrows but could you try just this once," Charlie pleaded with him with her hands clapped together, "It's only for today, I'm not asking much."
"Alright, alright. The only reason I'm in this mood is that we've been spending five hours on manners." The moth couldn't blame him for her girlfriend's eagerness to do things right.
"There's the spirit."
Soon Vaggie and Angel Dust arrived and stood beside her highness. In the back was Nifty sorting through the refrigerator and tossing expired food into a trash can behind her with a gas mask on. Further to the right was Mrs. Mayberry wearing a yellow dress shirt tucked into a purple skirt, sitting quietly on the couch with a small makeup kit on her lap and a small mirror allowing the woman to adjust her beauty on the spot. Meanwhile, the trio found Husk standing straight and tall in front of them in a butler uniform, forcing himself to smile. Charlie stole a glance from the arrivals before expressing her thoughts. "What do you guys think? Is it a bit much?"
The spider sinner laughed as he crossed his arms and observed the alcohol seller's appearance. "Not at all. I wouldn't mind if he served me drinks. Husk, my man, why don't you give me some tequila on the rocks?"
"Angel, let's not antagonize him any further," She replied before focusing her full attention on the cat-like being with wings, "I already tortured him long enough."
"So, how long do we have until your dad gets here?"
"I don't know. It probably doesn't take him much since he can teleport at will." The princess answered casually but Vaggie stole a look from the others and saw them turn their heads toward her with absolute shock. It was not reassuring sight if that was their reaction.
Alastor strode in from behind as he tap-danced towards the center of the lobby. "Well, we've done what we could to make things good. I just saw your father's limousine arrive out front."
"He's here already!"
Vaggie stepped away from her girlfriend's side and looked to her right. The hallway peered into the main entrance as she heard a vehicle quickly arrive before the tires screeched to a halt. Her stomach felt like a great pit had been opened as she anticipated the royal's arrival with a hint of fear. Charlie was quick to encourage the group to relax and stay calm in the lobby but she knew that everyone still needed a few more minutes to make their final touches. "I'll greet him, everyone else, stay here."
"You heard her everyone, take your places," Charlie ushered as she stepped forward inside the room with Angel Dust running over to the couch on the left side, "Nifty, throw out the trash and take that thing off your face."
The sinner approached the front door with haste. She feared the reaction of the fallen archangel but despite that worry, the love for her girlfriend's wellbeing overtook her. A figure shadowed over the yellow-stained glass as she reached out for the doorknob ahead. Lucifer and Lilith were a peculiar sort and she knew how to placate to her senses. Once the young woman arrived, she unlocked the door and swung it inward.
What stood before her was a complete surprise and, internally, her horror. Railtracer was standing in the doorway, his military uniform and kevlar vest dirty and bloodied. The trigger and magazine of his assault rifle were being hugged as if he was carrying a baby. If only he returned at a different time. "Hello Vaggie, it's good to be back. You look nice."
"Where were you? We have a meeting with Charlie's father! Get dressed before her parents see you." She ordered, knowing time was too precious to waste.
"Unfortunately," The Russian stepped aside as he looked out to the front of the hotel to reveal a silver limo parked outside with an open door, allowing a pale-skinned archangel to step out of the vehicle with his white top hat wrapped by a pink serpent and apple-styled cane, "We got acquainted much earlier than I expected."
"Wait, how did you hitch a ride with the king of Hell?"
His head turned to look at her. "Some shenanigans at I.M.P got me in trouble but his majesty paid me a visit in a prison and learned I lived here. He figured I was worth bringing along since he was heading over anyway."
Vaggie could not believe what she was hearing. This was surreal in her mind and it made the hotel's initial impressions worse than she wanted them to be. As she acknowledged the situation, her eyes looked to the monarch reaching out to a tall lithe figure stepping out of the car seat by her husband. Then the ruler and his wife approached the hotel's front door with their arms locked together tightly. Lucifer expressed a large smile upon seeing her as he raised his hat and spoke, "It's good to see you again. How long has it been since we last met?"
"I… I don't know. I kinda lost track since we left," His physical appearance was not as impressive but the presence of power exuded as he stopped in front of the door to speak to her, "Your daughter is in the lobby room with the others."
"Your dress is remarkably fitting for someone like yourself. How have things been since your interview with Katie Killjoy?" He asked of her.
The blonde in the black thigh-slit dress pulled his arm and grabbed his attention. "That's a bit rude to ask that question, dear."
"Yes, I am getting ahead of myself. Now let's give our daughter a visit."
The royals stepped inside as they spoke to each other about the latest changes to the hotel's interior design before the moth turned to the armed soldier and grabbed him by the wrist. Before the girl had switched outfits, she had given everyone an outfit to wear in their rooms. "Hey, take a shower and get changed. There's a suit on your bed that Alastor allowed you to use."
He nodded without a word as they followed Hell's powerful people in existence. Their stride was a sight to behold as the husband and wife proceeded into the lobby. Vaggie watched as Railtracer broke away from their company and walked deeper into the building as the royals met with the collection of individuals that officially worked as staff. She watched Charlie gather the others in a line before turning around to see her parents stand before her. "Mom, dad!"
"There's my sweet strawberry shortcake!" The ruler of Hell expressed as he slipped out from Lilith's arm and embraced his daughter rushing over to hug him, "It's great to see you again."
The queen of the succubus walked past them and rested a hand on her hip, observing the sinners and the overlord presented before her. "You have quite the motley crew, dear. I wonder how you have managed to convince them to stay."
When the king and his daughter finished hugging, they walked over to her side before Vaggie stood by Charlie. She was quick to explain to the others in the room. "As of right now, everyone you see here works for Charlie. Both of you have probably heard about the radio demon and his infamy. Well, your daughter managed to convince him to work for us and he pulled a few strings to get some people to work here."
"Indeed. Here I thought this place was for sinners who willingly seek out redemption," Observed the tall woman before her husband took one step forward and stared at the row of smiling faces, "Something wrong?"
"No, not at all. This is a strange company for our daughter but they surpass my expectations in terms of her intention."
Angel Dust walked out of line and spoke. The moth knew he was disobedient at times but she internally wanted to discourage him from speaking out of turn. "Sir, what do you mean by that?"
"My daughter is quite eager to see this hotel succeed at redeeming sinners. I don't believe it will work," A quick look at the princess showed a disheartened girl hearing her father's opinion but then he continued, "Yet, I must admire her resolve at convincing all of you to accompany her on that journey. At the very least, she has decent people to rely on when the hour is dark."
"You sure this hotel thing won't work?"
"It's a complicated matter and not as straightforward as Charlotte would like to believe. There is quite a history involved, one I am not too keen on explaining right now. After all, it would spoil the mood of this visit." She did not know why but his words seemed sincere and his attitude much more uncertain than the previous time he spoke on this subject. Back then, he was adamant about the whole concept of redeeming a sinner to ascend to Heaven. What happened to the person who was so sure of his daughter's quest leading to failure?
Vaggie's body felt a natural urge below her stomach, one she was all too familiar with. The moth girl had been so focused on preparing herself for the visit that she forgot to relieve the body. Oh, how embarrassing it would be to leave her girlfriend to her parents' judgment but better to go than to make it worse. She turned to the princess and whispered in her ear. "I need the bathroom. Do you have this?"
"It's alright," Her highness answered with a bright smile, "Dad seems to be in a better mood than I expected. Go ahead, I can take this from here."
The Salvadorian did not hesitate to backpedal away from the current company before walking towards the main hallway. She traveled for several minutes through the maze-like building; however, years of living here had made her familiar with its expansive layout. Newcomers would easily be lost had it not been for her assistance, a quality that she could lord over Alastor when the opportunity came.
Soon she arrived at a T-crossing but the answer was simply turning around the corner to the path on the right, where the bathrooms were. As the young lady peered entered that part of the hallway, a sign hung from the ceiling, pointing at the room three doors ahead. What was truly amazing was that she did not release any tension beneath her waist.
It was the final stretch before relief but time seemed to take forever for the sinner to close the distance and find refuge at a toilet seat. Yet, there was a door on her right that had been opened, and a conversation taking place. Then her ears picked up and listened on Railtracer in isolation.
Her feet quietly walked over to the open door and peeked through to find the man standing in the supply room smoking a cigarette in one hand and taking to a phone call in the other. His back was turned towards her. "Tony, it's me. I saw your messages earlier."
The Russian brought his smoke to his lips for a quick whiff before bringing the cigarette to his side as smoke began to fill up the room.
"Yeah, the boss accompanied Lucifer. Any news in the department aside from my latest mess?"
What did he mean by 'department?' Was it some form of euphemism or code for his line of work? It certainly did not help that the conversation was occurring in a dark-lit room.
"Are you sure you don't need my help? I can still-"
A muffled voice reached his ear and was loud enough for Vaggie to see that the unknown caller had authority over him.
"Crystal. Then tell Pavel and Uhlman that I said hi. Good luck with your investigation in Heaven, I'll see what I can do from my end in the hotel."
Railtracer ended the call on his phone before he slipped the device into his pocket. The sinner quietly shuffled away and approached the bathroom's entrance before she peeked her head out into the corner. Then the door to the supply room creaked open as he stepped into the hallway with his cigarette in hand. His eyes scanned the surroundings before the girl hid inside and patiently waited. Minutes passed until the man's weapons and gear tapped against each other and faded with each moment those sounds repeated.
She took a glimpse at the hallway to see him walking away from her, unaware of her presence. Many questions flowed through her mind but it was clear that the Hazbin Hotel had been infiltrated. What was she to do about him?
SAK-96: Indeed.