Fear and terror were all that Collin could muster after his arrival in Hell. To be sent into the dark realm only spurred his poor spirits. He had heard the horror stories and rumors from the few investigators who have been to this place and now he would have his own. The cherub couldn't find solace in the company of his colleagues and his former captors were just as confused as he was.

One of the humans behind him spoke up and snapped his head into reality. "Hey, you know this place?"

"I've only seen the commercial but yeah," Answered the angelic creature as he reluctantly floated towards the door. An explanation was required for the two accompanying humans. Everyone in Heaven saw Charlie attempting to explain her attempts at redeeming sinners. It was an admirable goal but one doomed to fail. At the very least, it would be the safest place compared to anywhere else. "This place is owned by the Princess of Hell but I think we'll be safe here."

"Wait, did I hear that right? You said that we're in Hell? Why would two church priests send us here?" He had a point and the cherub turned around and shrugged his shoulders. The human on the right shook his head in disbelief amid his appearance in a black tuxedo and sunglasses.

"God probably works in mysterious ways."

The woman beside him spat on the ground before brandishing her pistol from her clothing. They certainly did not buy his reasoning and even he doubted that the holy father would intend this place as his destination. She made her first steps towards the hotel towering over them. "We don't have a lot of options so let's go check this place out and that princess."

The cherub's stomach felt like turning as he floated towards the entrance. His eyes glanced towards the button beside the doorknob and paused. He was perhaps one of the first creatures of Heaven to ever step foot in this reality. From the moment that someone would answer the door, he would be the first to greet them. His finger pressed the button and the sound of a bell rang inside. What felt like hours were actually minutes of anticipating the would-be hosts.

"So you said a princess owned this hotel?" She wondered as the humans stepped closer and stood behind his back, "Why would she be running this place?"

"Miss Charlotte Magne Morningstar, apparently, wants to redeem sinners living in Pride. Though not everyone shares her view down here." He hoped his answer would suffice.

"Wait, so if she's the princess then who's the dad?"

Collin forgot that these humans were not acquainted with the life that goes on in the afterlife. Although he shouldn't be granting them that information, his exile from the pearly gates made him certain that he would never return. So what was the harm in telling them how things were run? "Princess Charlie is the daughter of King Lucifer, the ruler of Hell and the Fallen Archangel."

"Agent One, I can see why we're being told to cease and desist in our search." She stated before whistling throughout the waiting period.

Heavy footsteps approached from within and the Heavenborn's teeth began to chitter now that the ultimate moment had come. Soon the doorknob's mechanisms began to turn until the front door swung open and revealed a tall crimson figure.

A dapper sinner greeted them in a pinstripe suit with sharpened shark-like teeth and deer ears attached to his head. In one hand was a vintage microphone while his free hand reached for his face and adjusted a monocle over the stranger's right eye. Black irises widened and his jaw dropped as if taken aback by the arrivals. It was a sign that even the denizens of Hell didn't see coming. "I expected the mailman. Oh dear, her highness needs to see this. Charlie!"

"Yes?" Called out a feminine voice from behind his back. The trio could hear a shuffle of footsteps come to the front door from within, "Why are you yelling?"

"We have guests and I think you need to take care of this." He explained before turning his gaze upon Collin and his human companions. The cherub caught a glimpse of the man's evil eye as he gestured for them to come inside with a gesture from his red fingertip glove.

"Great, I can't wait to see them!"

The sinner turned around as they entered the building with great reluctance. It was difficult to contemplate that he would find himself in the very building containing the heir of Hell itself. Yet, here he was, afraid of what fate might have in store for him. All of the training instilled in the creature of Heaven never prepared him for this.

They were brought into a hallway when a blonde-haired figure stepped out of a room to their left and slipped into their view. Clad in a red suit, she clapped her hands together with a tremendous comforting smile upon her pale face with cheeks covered in large red dots. "Alastor? Who are these people?"

"You tell me," Soon the greeter walked away and stood by her side. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. This was the heiress to the dark kingdom, the 'young' woman who was publicly disgraced on live television. He had no right to be here as Collin grew worried about the possibility of encountering the man who waged war with the Council of Archangels, "This seems way up your alley."

"Well then, if that is the case, I would like to introduce myself. My name is Princess Charlotte Magne Morningstar but you can call me Charlie. I'm not too big on formalities." Answered the royal as she looked at the group of three.

The short-haired human step in front. "I'm Agent One and my partner is Agent Two. We work for an organization called the Demon Hunters of Recorded Knowledgable Sightings."

"That is quite a mouthful."

"Well, it's because our acronym makes us get called D.H.O.R.K.S.," He answered as his hand rubbed the back of his neck and lowered his head in shame, "We're not exactly well-respected."

She eyed Collin next while crossing her arms. "You don't look like a human; however, you have those wings but that certainly does not make you an exterminator."

"I'm not. My name is Collin and I work for Heaven, well, I used to work for them. It's a long embarrassing story." It would have been nice if Cleetus and Keenie were here to back him up. He always lacked a spine whenever it came to dealing with others. Then he noticed the host's eyes brighten as if her prayers were answered.

"You're from Heaven?! Then why are you down here? Are you here to check out my hotel?"

He was relieved when the human with the New Yorker accent interrupted. "Actually, miss, we're here for entirely different reasons."

The attention of the conversation fell upon him.

"My partner and I were supposed to hand this guy over because we captured this guy during one of our stakeouts. Apparently, the people of Heaven weren't too happy about that. Long story short, we got attacked and were sent to this place."

The sinner known as Alastor let out a chuckle and commented. "My, I would love to know about that conversation."

"Not much I can say," Agent One answered as his hands slipped into his pockets, "All I know is that there's a Heaven organization known as the Department of Purgatory that apparently has some joint operation going on in Hell."

"Truly? You are certain about this? The only time Heaven ever comes down here is during Extermination Day." Collin noticed the man's eyes look up at the ceiling as if he thought hard about this.

The princess seemed to be just as fascinated by the topic before her gaze looked up at the cherub. "Strange indeed. What do you know about them?"

"I'm not sure if it's a good idea to even tell you."

"It's okay," She seemed perplexed by his response, and with good reason as well. Even though he was exiled from Heaven, the consequences of revealing that kind of information would be more than trouble, "What's the harm in informing us?"

The sheep with wings began to tap his hooves together in order to keep his nerves calm. Then his eyes stole a glimpse of Alastor's cupping his chin with his fingers. A vile grin was all he could provide to instill a semblance of fear in the cherub. "Well, they're one of the few organizations who have agents working undercover in Hell. They like to disguise themselves as sinners so nobody notices."

"Oh." Charlie was taken aback by this revelation as surprise covered her face. Now he had crossed the Rubicon and it was only a matter of time until his explanation resulted in more permanent punishments than the one he was undergoing.

The whole department was on edge and Tony wished he could produce substantial results to end the policies that stressed every soul working for Azrael. His office was a mess, his desk containing an assortment of papers and rough drafts of reports that would never see the light of day. Had he left the door open to any passersby, it wouldn't surprise the old courier that his coworkers would start whispering rumors behind his back. Then again, he would be competing with others like Hannigan

He shifted his weight around with a push from his legs and spun his chair to the right. The former post-apocalypse survivor scanned through the papers in front of him, they were approval requests to organize dedicated strike teams in case the crew in charge of the priority mission would get additional support. The man reached for his breast pocket and clicked his pen before signing his signature onto the line below. Black ink was etched onto the paper with ease, once finished, the wastelander-turned-bureaucrat brought it to a series of trays to his left.

Part of him missed the glory days of his life when he traveled the Mojave with a floating Enclave robot and a scribe from the Brotherhood of Steel. His hands reached behind his head before leaning back in his chair to take a break from tiring his eyes and reminisce about past adventures. Most people would find the life of dealing with mutants, radiation, and raiders to be a hardship - not for him. There was a degree of excitement when it came to exploring the land and mapping the locations out before he would end up fighting on behalf of the New California Republic and the innocents who would be at the mercy of Caesar's Legion. Memories of pure friendships came to mind as he thought about the fiery redhead with a double-barrel shotgun dragging him to a bedroom to make sweet love.

The one that stood out for him was when he helped the scribe find closure after she caught a glimpse of her grandfatherly figure's message. It was a painful experience to see what madness his mind had devolved into after the Battle of Helios One. Despite all of the time since he was press-ganged into the old man's service, he would not grant Father Elijah mercy after learning the full extent of what he did to Veronica and her girlfriend. As much as he would love to put him under six feet of concrete, torturing him with a slow death was fitting for a man of his position.

When the fate of New Vegas was decided at the Second Battle for Hoover Dam, it wouldn't be long until Tony would find solace in death and be buried in an unmarked grave somewhere even his closest companions wouldn't find. Then there was his initial service as an investigator to the Department of Purgatory alongside the countless numbers of men and women disguised as sinners. Few people would know of the work he had done under Azrael but fewer would know how he even got to be his second-in-command.

It was supposed to be simple. The accidental placement of a saved soul in Hell had one last day before her existence in the dark realm would be permanent. An investigator would show up and bring her to a safe house for extraction - he was supposed to perform in that critical moment. All policy demanded that he followed procedures but when he saw the grey-skinned moth walking side-by-side with the princess of Hell, smiling with pure joy, he couldn't proceed. It hurt him knowing that Vagatha Veracruz would be damned because he hesitated to do his job and was traumatized by his experiences in life. What kind of person would he be if he ripped her away from someone she absolutely loved? It would be no better than Father Elijah ripping Veronica away from her beloved.

Much time had passed since that fateful day and the inaction continued to haunt him.

Pondering about the past came to an end when the voice of his superior caught the man off-guard. "Tired?"

"Ah, shit!" Tony stumbled in his chair as he straightened his back and turned around in his chair to see the Grim Reaper towering over him with his scythe in hand. He looked past the figure to find his office door still closed. It can be unsettling how an archangel was capable of surprising him. "Azrael, knock next time."

"You were staring into the ceiling. I felt it was worth checking on you." Even though it was a sound reason, the former courier was not keen on experiencing that a second time.

"A bit of courtesy is appreciated."

"My apologies then. May I take a seat?" Tony glanced to his left to somehow find an empty armchair in his current mess before gesturing his hand over. The Archangel of Death strode towards the furniture and sat down looking at him with a void underneath his hood, "You seem deep in thought. Do you have anything on your mind?"

They had this conversation countless times and the number would increase. Azrael's ability to listen to his own thoughts made him more than just a boss but rather a friend. "Just thinking about that time when I didn't do my job. To this day, I still don't know why you promoted me since then."

"If I wanted someone who would follow the department's rules to the letter, it would be easy to pick someone." He answered before resting his scythe across his lap.

"Yet, you picked me," Memories of the interview reminded him of the dread when he sat alone in a room and the head of the department discussed his file. Stealing a glance from the very Heavenborn, he adjusted the tie on his office apparel, "You've never told me why I was chosen to be your second-in-command."

"Most of the saved usually comply with our rules without question. Although I respect their dedication, this department has to afford compromises whenever they matter. This was one of them. When you failed to return Miss Morningstar's girlfriend to Heaven, it merely provided a glimpse of your character. In the end, you did the right thing."

The Grim Reaper's assurance wasn't enough as Tony leaned forward and hunched his back over his knees. Every time he thought about Vaggie, whispers of failure seeped into his mind as he doubted himself. "Is it right for me to let her soul be damned for eternity? She was supposed to be in Heaven."

"I know," The dark figure lowered his head as his hands gripped the scythe, "Yet, the alternative wouldn't have been better. Sure, you would have saved Vagatha's soul but you would have ripped Charlie's beloved from her arms. All that would do is inspire hatred for us in Heaven. Life is complicated, I've understood that from the moment my brother rebelled against us and our father."

A phone rang in someone's pocket. The former wastelander pulled the device from his black slacks, only to discover that it was not his. Then he looked across the room to find Azrael reaching into his robes and revealing his phone. Bone fingertips tapped against the surface of the screen as bright light revealed the skull underneath his hood.

"It's mine, do not worry." He said before standing up and bringing his weapon upright.

That was a sign that it was important. "Did something come up?"

"Yes. Two humans and an exiled cherub were sighted at the Hazbin Hotel. You might want to get changed because part of me wants to have a talk with the poor guy about revealing our organization to the Princess of Hell."

It was ironic that he said those very words. Few people would be horrified at the amount of field work that would involve but the truth was that Tony lived for them. Anything was better than sorting out paperwork in a closed office.

Hunter had a hopeful outlook on the world and with good reason. There was a chance for him to see the other side, to atone for the sins of the past. Then his girlfriend's future made him happier for the better. The secret job he took for the servants of Heaven provided him the fruits of his labor with paychecks to finally live a better life for the time being until his work would be recognized.

His hands carefully sliced the doctor's sausage with efficiency and precision atop the chopping board. Maria had been promoted from her work and she felt it was time to find a way to celebrate the moment with a fine dinner. Both had spent hours at the grocery stores to find recipes from their different cultural backgrounds to make the few dishes at the table. Although twenty years of living in the Moscow Metro had forced the former soldier of the Soviet Union to change his appetite, he never truly forgot the quiet days of eating at the table with his comrades in the military.

The woman he had fallen for had walked beside him and leaned over to see his handiwork. "What are you making that would require that much meat?"

"Potato salad," He answered with gusto. It was an old recipe that was a staple in his younger teenage years. Despite its simplicity, the food was a staple of his during school, "What do you think?"

"You're going to cut up all the sausage? That's enough for several meals? You'll get fat just from stuffing yourself." She expressed his dismay at the sheer volume he was cutting up as he looked to his right to find an entire bowl of peeled and carefully cut-up potatoes and carrots waiting to be mixed with the meat.

"Well, I could use it for work. We have all that tupperware in the cabinets and no one uses it."

"That doesn't mean you get to eat like a king," The Mexican remarked as she began folding the flour of uncooked dozens of empanadas on a metal tray, "So what have you been doing lately?"

The question had taken him by surprise but Hunter was quick to avert the conversation from focusing on his work. She didn't need to know about the wetwork and the briefcase of guns in his closet. Yet, he had the perfect excuse thanks to his meeting with an old friend in his living life. "There was this kid I met at the bar. He and I found out we were both in Hell and got reacquainted."

"Really? Tell me more about him. Must have brought some memories back."

"His name was Artyom, a shy young man who didn't get out much. We met before he was ten but I ended up becoming his mentor figure for a good chunk of his life. Taught him how to shoot and gave him a bit of confidence when it came to women. Shame to think he'd end up down here like the rest of us." It was a somber thought when it occurred to him. The child he trained would be forever damned to eternity in the dark realm while his soul was redeemed. Artyom always looked up to him whenever he turned up at Exhibition station, hoping to fill his eyes as the tales of adventures would inspire him to make his own. Three years had passed since those days and part of him wondered about the sins he committed to find his place.

"You know, I wouldn't mind if you invited him over," The woman added as she enclosed the final empanada filled with chicken and corn, "We don't get a lot of company around these parts but I believe it would be nice to have a visitor."

He looked over his head and smiled. Where was this woman in this life? Had they crossed paths before, the old soldier would have married this Latina and settled down in a nice quiet neighborhood. "Appreciate that."

"Anything for you. Now are you going to finish cutting or can I use the oven?" She asked of him. Hunter settled his knife down as he thought of a good moment to be sweet to her.

"I don't know. Are we going to have dessert later on?"

Soon his arms wrapped around her, taking her by complete surprise. "Hey, watch it pendejo! You're getting flour all over my dress."

"Sooner or later, you'll want to take it off," He remarked as his face began kissing her neck, knowing how intimate their relationship was. Then their bodies rocked back and forth while Maria giggled, "After we eat?"

"That depends. Are you going to be a good boy?"

They both laughed knowing the answer before they would return to their cooking.

Helen Mayberry strolled from the front of the hotel and watched as the local street was closed down for vehicles. Orange caution barriers were placed from one end to the other as a stage was being built up from the foundations to her left while trucks and motor homes were parked in organized rows to her right. It would be difficult for Railtracer to find a parking space after he returned from work but given his reputation as Verosika's boyfriend, there were bound to be some considerations to be made.

She barely had time to register as a man shouted from her right flank. "Hey, watch your head?"

The teacher immediately ducked as two burly Hellborns, a Greed Shark in a wife beater shirt and a black Hellhound in blue jeans carried over a pack of metal poles strapped in zip ties. Once they were out of the way, she stood up and shook her head in disbelief. She knew that Hell was a mess but they always had some form of safety standards. Perhaps she would make her complaint to the people in charge before they would ignore it completely.

Her time was spent straightening out her blue and tattered skirt before the woman's hands began to pat out the wrinkles within the pink shirt. Feeling content with her appearance, she strode across the street with pride. It would mean little in the end when Helen looked around to see the workers; men and women, cat-call her appearance through whistles and remarks. Without hesitation, the sinner's temper boiled immediately as rage encompassed her face until they retreated their attention back to building up the concert in the streets.

Upon reaching the other side, her blood simmered and relief fell upon her shoulders after leaving the public view. She walked into a dark-lit alley with the hopes of finding a way to the other side of the block and finding a sidewalk toward the groceries. Thoughts pondered about everyone's reactions back there and it sparked questions about the ex-husband she brought to the grave. Those people earlier were willing to openly state their feelings for her despite being unwarranted; yet, Gerald was the one who simply saw someone else and took the opportunity to cheat on their marriage. Why couldn't he see what was there in front of himself instead of seeking pleasure so short-lived?

Concrete ground pounded with each step she took. Despite the loudness of the sound enough to scare off the trash critters that lived in these parts of the neighborhood, there was a sense of loneliness in the surroundings while a cold chill ran down her spine. A menacing atmosphere arose and she wondered what it would bring for her. No weapons were on her as she left her immediate weapons at the hotel or in her car, which was currently being driven by Railtracer.

Soon her stomach felt unease as she arrived at a T-junction. Then footsteps came from behind as a loud click echoed throughout the alleyway. A familiar voice announced himself. What was once a man she loved so dearly was a bastard who stood in his shoes. "Hello, honey."

"Gerald?" Helen turned around and recognized the sinful form that was her husband. He stood straight and tall in a white suit with an M1911 pistol drawn in his hand and the barrel pointed toward the woman. Where once his handsome head would be was a twisted form of a dolphin with sharpened teeth and a hard gaze. Their previous encounter was fresh in her mind but she knew that their love had soured since that fateful day with the satanic bitch. What remained of her feelings was perfect hatred, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"To finish what you have started. Neither of us had to die. If you had just stayed at school, I would have gotten the best pussy ever and we wouldn't be a laughing stock." His words were hurtful, knowing that he did not seem to care about her feelings.

"So you never did love me?"

"Love you? The only reason we're together is because out of pity!" The venom's sting grew stronger knowing that their marriage was nothing more than a sham. Had there been no weapon, the teacher would gladly charge and tackled her assailant, "God's sake, woman, almost everyone in town knows you're shit at finding a boyfriend. It was the least good thing I could have done."

All she heard from his lips were excuses as she clenched her hands into fists. Anger reignited like a flame starting a forest fire. Yet, none of it was able to be acted upon thanks to his weapon. "That doesn't give you any right to cheat on me."

"You were always a waste of my time. Shame that you didn't make use of your ass and tits when we were alive. Would have made things interesting."

"Damn you!" Mrs. Mayberry rushed towards him without hesitation. There was no holding back in her attempt to lung forward to reach over the bastard who ruined her life. In a blink of an eye, the alley flickered with light as a gunshot rang out. She barely had the time to register until her body slumped to the ground and an aching pain sent shockwaves throughout the rest of the body. Tears trailed from her eyes while screaming in agony on a physical and emotional level.

Her eyes looked up to see a dolphin expressing his disdain for her. Gerald shook his head in disbelief as he walked over to Helen's body, only to kick with his shoe. "I've been watching you and checking out what days you'll leave the hotel. From now on, whatever we had is gone and it's time we moved on."

The sinner aimed the pistol's barrel toward her head. It was a brief moment of defiance but deep down, the teacher realized her husband had the upper hand and now her existence would end.

"Goodbye," Soon the air was sliced before the crackle of a whip reached out from the corner of her eye. The gun fell to the ground as blood began to trickle from his missing index and middle finger. Taken aback by both the attack and the pain, he stumbled back while trying to cope with the harm done to him, "Fuck!"

Helen was perplexed as she looked around the alleyway to see who had intervened on her behalf. Then she turned to her left and saw a lithe Hellborn step into the alleyway with the light against her back. Verosika Mayday approached as her high heels clicked against the hard concrete. She saw the weapon in her hand while casually wearing a loose white T-shirt and a blue pair of shorts. "What's going on here?"

"None of your damn business, bitch!" He answered before reaching for his pistol on the ground. Another crack happened as the far end of the whip snapped between Gerald and the gun, causing him to retract his arm away from meeting the same fate.

"You know him, Mayberry?"

"My husband." Her body coughed up blood but she would get on by while crawling towards the pistol that wounded her. Once in reach, the sinner eagerly grabbed for the grip and drew the barrel on him. Vengeance was here at last and finally, there was a chance to deal with the man who ruined their relationship, "Have a nice death."

The trigger finger pulled and the dolphin attempted to shield himself from the gunfire. Yet, it was not enough as the bullets riddled into his body and knocked him back. Nothing would hold back the teacher's wrath. When a bullet left the chamber, another round would be fired to be unleashed on the man who made her blood boil. He found himself landing against the wall, his undamaged hand trying to pull himself up on the brick and mortar but his strength failed. Not long after, a body plopped onto the ground and blood seeped from the corpse.

She lowered her hand and looked down to see blood leaking through. "Ugh, I don't feel too good."

"Oh shit!" It was a surprise when the succubus ran to her side and wrapped her arm around her back. Mayberry hadn't realized that she was about to fall over while the Hellborn pulled out her phone and started tapping against the screen. "Hello, this is Verosika Mayday. I need EMS right now."

Life was beginning to slow as the sinner looked up at the sky to see the small white dot in the distance. A bit of sleep wouldn't hurt.

The headquarters of C.H.E.R.U.B was a breeze as the constant reports of newly-acquired saved souls flowed through the system. Deerie flew into a breakroom and turned to her right, immediately looking forward to filling herself with coffee and biscuits. As she snatched a cup from the side of the coffee machine on the counter, there was a strange feeling falling over her. It was rare but the manager knew it would be over before she knew it.

The woman placed the cup underneath the dispenser and clicked the massive red button for her favorite drink to come out. Three beeps signaled before hot mint chocolate poured out. It made her smile, knowing it won't be long to have this treat.

Then her shoulder was tapped by a finger. Deerie turned around to find the tall and terrifying presence of the Grim Reaper towering over her. "Hello there."

She squealed in terror and backed away from the Archangel of Death with his scythe in hand.

"We have much to talk about," He stated as he presented his boney fingers and snapped them. In a blink of an eye, the scythe disappeared out of reality before hiding the hand underneath the black robes, "We need to talk about your policy of exile for failure."

When her feelings of terror subsided, Deerie regained her composure as a sweet and caring cherub. She needed to inform the leader of the Department of Purgatory about C.H.E.R.U.B's work culture. "Sir, I do not see how it would be any of your concern. It's not like your personnel are being exiled."

"My field reports disagree. As of right now, one of your cherubs is now in Hell and threatening the capacity of my investigators and their operations." His tone seemed to be annoyed and implying that he didn't want to be here at all.

"Then that would be a 'you' problem than mine," She replied nonchalantly. Whatever happened in Hell was not in her purview as she turned around for her cup, now filled to the brim. Yet, Death hand's reached past her and grabbed it before taking a brief sip, "Hey! Don't you have any manners!"

"I do but I'm no longer in a pleasant mood. What you need to understand is that one of your cherubs is in Hell, spilling his guts out about the existence of our organization to a few. Do you have any idea how much effort it took to cultivate the level of secrecy to make sinners and Hellborn alike believe that we only show up on Extermination Day? All that for naught because your people refused to handle its issues and I have to clean up after you. How do you think the council to take it that you've done something incredibly stupid to earn their full attention?"

"Oh." Deerie realized the gravity of the situation as Azrael finally conveyed his point to her. Of all the organizations in Heaven, she never truly got the bearing of the Department of Purgatory. Azrael was always known as the relaxed archangel who would merely voice his sympathy to the denizens of Hell and now the cherub caught a glimpse of his patience fading into nonexistence. A line had been crossed and he was here to finally point the obvious.

He let out a deep sigh before retreating away from her and taking a seat at a brown coffee table behind his back. Then he took a few moments to drink before continuing to speak. "It is thanks to some mortal clerics and the FBC for taking their time out of their own to tackle this issue. My department is preparing an extraction plan to bring a cherub known as Collin back to the confines of Heaven. Do you have a reason as to why they were even exiled in the first place?"

"Wait, Collin?"

"I take that you know of him?" Pondered the Grim Reaper as he finished drinking her cup and crushed the container with his bare-bone hands. Then with great accuracy, he threw the garbage into a can to his left with complete disregard for his aim. His 'eyes' turned to her and contemplated, "Elaborate."

She recalled her previous encounter with the cherub and his team after their disastrous attempts at saving the soul of a morally bankrupt rich man. "He and two others were tasked with saving the soul of someone by the name of Lyle Lipton."

"Ah, the rich man who tried to escape me. Go on." It shouldn't have been a surprise at all given that his department sorted out souls on a daily basis. Though, it was a surprise that he even knew this specific one given the daily amount that gets processed across multiple realities.

"Well, they said something about someone interfering with their work but I didn't look into it," That was all that Deerie could remember before casually leaving her coworkers behind. Was there any detail she had forgotten? "So I suppose that is all I can say."

"So he's there because of I.M.P. which led one thing to another. Well, looks like it's up to me to rescue him."

"Are we done with this informal meeting?" The cherub looked at her watch and reminded herself of her schedule. She had a yoga class in the evening.

He shook his head and rose from his seat. Then his fingers snapped until the iconic scythe appeared in his very hands. "We are done but you must change that policy of yours. If this happens again, I will be sure to do more than make a complaint. That is not a warning but a fact, do you understand me?"

No words were able to describe the chill on her spin as she shook her head frantically. Perhaps this was a brief glimpse into the archangel's dark side.

"Good. Farewell." Azrael raised his weapon and tapped the bottom of the shaft against the floor. In a blink of an eye, he was gone but the impact of his words remained.

The disguised redeemed soul occupied the rooftop of I.M.P. by his lonesome. A white plastic chair was all that Artyom would need as he looked the moment to admire the city atmosphere. A cigarette was pulled from a pack hiding within his breast pocket before brandishing the bullet lighter and flicking the top over. His thumb spun the spark wheel, hearing the small scratches until the small warmth of a flame was ignited. It wasn't long until the end of his cigarette burned and the lungs relaxed with the latest poison.

All of the weapons had been cleaned and repaired. His work was done and he could go back to the hotel and find solace in his bedroom but it wouldn't be enough. This existence in the afterlife was beginning to lose meaning ever since that fateful night with Colonel Mel'nikov's death. While his list of acquaintances and possibly friends were slowly growing the longer he spent time down in Hell, vengeance for such a loss continued to weigh heavily on his mind. The scar of such a memory etched onto him like a scab from an old wound. His new posting was supposed to be the beginning to find the person responsible. Yet, no progress was being made.

His feelings on the mission were mixed. Artyom still itched for the day when he would be validated through blood but the assignment to be at Charlie's side frustrated him. He did appreciate the company at the Hazbin Hotel but it was holding him back. Time would tell if Tony's promise to help him would be enough. As much as he wanted to doubt the man, it would merely lead to a road of despair. Two decades of living in metro tunnels was his experience with the subject matter.

"Watcha doing by yourself?"

The Russian looked over his shoulder and saw Millie leave the staircase doorway. Her clothing was much more formal, a tan dress lined with black, revealing her bare shoulders. If his intuition was anything to go by, Moxxie's and his wife would be setting off for intimate moments together. Why she was here was anyone's guess. "I don't know. Just wanted some time to myself before returning to the hotel. Where exactly are you going?"

"Moxxie and I are going to meet up with Blitzo and Stolas. Then we're going Ozzie's together to have a grand 'ole time." She answered with delight in her voice. The excitement seemed to be barely held back but it was brief when her expression displayed a look of worry, "Shame that you and Verosika won't join us."

It wasn't going to happen. The succubus was practicing for the concert just outside the Hazbin Hotel and the date was approaching. Artyom doubted she would have the time to afford it. "She's just busy with her work and I don't want to interrupt her concentration."

"Aw, so nice of you. You two should go out after she's done. I'm sure she'll appreciate it." Millie was quite caring in that moment and Artyom's mood was lifted. For a creature of Hell, the goodness from her emotions was leaving an impression on him. Hell was a chaotic mess of a society but not inherently evil as expected by scripture and imagery propagated by the men of the cloth.

The right pocket buzzed as he reached inside his pants and pulled out his phone. Tony was calling him directly and that meant he would need some privacy.

"Well, I have to go. Have a good one."

The imp walked back to the doorway without hesitation. Despite the trust earned with every member of I.M.P., he had to be sure she was gone lest someone listened to the call. A minute passed as he looked back to the phone in his hand and tapped the green phone icon on the screen. Bringing it close to his ear, the disguised saved waited for the response.

"Artyom, we have a problem," Tony's voice was loud and clear. The firmness of his voice indicated a serious update that needed to be conveyed. Such was life for people like him as his superior continued, "Don't go back to the Hazbin Hotel. There's a developing situation I need to tackle."

"What exactly is the problem?"

He heard the man's breath echo into the speakers. A sigh of utter frustration and it wouldn't take much for the investigator to imagine his compatriot holding his forehead by two fingers. "So there are three people who just showed up on Charlie's doorstep. Two are human demon hunters who kidnapped Blitzo in that one ambush and one is a cherub. The demon hunters are a breeze but the Heavenborn can sense a saved when any one of us is nearby. I can't let you go back because the guy might blow your cover."

"Then what do you expect me to do?" The news of this trouble was a problem, one which interfered with his objective of providing protection for Lucifer's daughter. Nonetheless, he hoped the second-in-command of the department would look out for him. Perhaps he should return to where the crew resided. "The hotel is the only roof I can have over my head. There's nowhere else for me other than the safe house."

"Make do with what you have. That car is going to be your house for the time being until I can extract those three. That is unless you have something in mind." It was disappointing to hear; yet, Artyom was used to a lifetime of making the best out of the worst situations.

"Nyet."

"Good luck, buddy."

Author's Note: What makes this chapter a bit funny from the rest is the fact that I have to watch a bit of Life of Boris to actually make sure Hunter can cook.