HH: Redoing the first 8 or so chapters to fit the rest of the story. Also, word of note, the story takes place in a combined setting, not a separate one. Things from one are things in the other. It'll make less sense soon I promise. :)

This fanfic was inspired by 'A Hunter's New Home' by AgeOfAngels and 'The Night Unfurls' by StaffSergeant. It took me two days to write and edit. Please don't mind the title, I know it sounds so isekai-like. Wanted it to sound like this famous book 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy'. There are going to be a lot of pop culture references in this story.

If you have problems, then deal with it. I ain't exactly good in Hazbin Hotel lore. (HH: Same story, but I'm really good at pulling shit from my ass and calling it gold.)

Word of warning: This fanfic will contain graphic violence, strong languages, sexual themes, travesties against nature, the GAY, and many things the Christian Religion would spew blood at. Viewer discretion is advised because it's FUCKING Hazbin Hotel and FUCKING Bloodborne. Also, I can say whatever I want whenever my editor's possessing me like a meat-puppet. (HH: Ignore that last part. Enjoy the re-written first chapter of…)

A Hunter's Guide for Running a Hotel

I

Painfully Familiar

'We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood…'

Those words defined the lives of the many Hunters of the cold, lifeless, bloody city of Yharnam. To be born of blood, was to become something other than yourself, in exchange for the potential of great power. To be made by the blood, was to cut your teeth on the Beasts that stalked its streets, learning the tools, tricks, and varied weaponry that the Hunters had made and mastered during the confusingly long nights that plagued the old city.

And to be undone… was to become one of the very Beasts they slew in droves. Nameless, nonhuman, forgotten. This was the fate of all Hunters. Save one.

He had faced uncountable foes, reigned triumphant over improbable challenges, yet he had prevailed, and more importantly, survived. He had become so much more than a mere human, but it had cost him everything. To say his time in service as a Hunter had touched him was barely scratching the surface of his many newfound problems. He had spent over two centuries gestating as one of the things that had caused the downfall of Yharnam, and it had disgusted him. But that was the past. The present held a different, yet no less strange and grim story.

He stealthily peeked around the brick wall, stalking three Angels. Exorcists, to be precise. Uncoordinated, sloppy, but deadly and numerous. Akin to the addled people of Yharnam, who had taken it upon themselves to pick up the Hunter's slack when their bodies had begun to pile higher than they could be disposed of. These ones were fresh, lacking the decorations of the slightly skilled veterans whose numbers had begun to thin over the years. All were armed with Angelic Weapons, so the Hunter had to be cautious, as a single touch would burn his very existence. He'd already slaughtered a few dozen squads, and had collected whatever he could salvage to repurpose. He had to hurry if he wanted to get more of the rare, sacred metal.

It was nearly the end of Extermination Day, after all. He had to make this quick, lest he lose his bounty.

He was in luck. The Hunter's attire he had donned oh so long ago proved to be effective in hiding in dark and shadowed locations. His dark trench coat with the standard leather cowl provided a miniscule amount of armor, alongside the thick vest, gloves with armored bracers, and tough heeled boots. His entire head was covered, his face hidden behind a cloth mask, and his hair was underneath a tattered tricorn.

He held his breath as they passed, a serrated throwing dagger in his off hand. Once they did, he carefully stepped from the shadows, and followed them unnoticed, his bulky Saw Cleaver in its shorter configuration strapped to his thigh. As the three doomed souls scanned the branching alleyways, he used this opportunity to fling his first knife to the one on the left, then lunged for the rightmost one. The knife sunk into the back of the Exorcist's head, dropping them and causing the Angelic Spear to loudly clatter onto the ground, grabbing the attention of the yet-to-be targeted angel. The Hunter grabbed his prey by the base of the neck and the mouth, which yelled a muffled scream, before a near-silent *crack* made them limp, their neck cleanly snapped.

The remaining Exorcist turned to see their brethren die in an instant, and saw their killer holding the body of their most recent victim. Enraged, they readied their weapons and immediately rushed at the Hunter, who had dropped the corpse, and was waiting for the perfect moment.

It stabbed at him, a wordless scream of rage bubbling from its lips, cut short by the Hunter's well-practiced sidestep, followed by a wickedly sharp saw gutting them vertically. The Hunter wasn't finished, and had quickly turned, swinging the blade into the exposed neck of the angel.

*CRUNCH*

There was no grace to be found in the blade. No quick and clean decapitation. Instead, the neck was only partially cut, and instead had been crushed by the weight of the blade, before the Hunter ripped the weapon back, messily tearing the head from the body as he glanced around for incoming combatants.

None came. The hunt was over. The Hunter collected his knife, took his prizes, and cleaned the blood from his weapon.

When that was over, he looked over the three bodies with a critical eye. He dragged the two intact Exorcists by the feet, and carried the mutilated one on his shoulders, kicking the head along as he went. He took them into an area where the bodies of over a dozen dead Exorcists were piled onto a large tarp in a butcher's alley, all from this Hunt alone. Not just this one, but many, since he had a trade agreement with a number of meat shops that didn't question him where all the meat came from, but were willing to meet his simple demand for silence regarding him. About two hundred, no less. Not that any were of particular notice, they were no different than the blood-crazed Beasts back in Yharnam, their over aggression so easy to exploit. Over his years in Hell, he had hunted what would have been an uncountable number for some, but he knew was, including these last three, one thousand exactly.

This was the third time he survived this annual day of slaughter, fear, and blood. Sometimes, it reminded him of his Night of the Hunt, though where there had been Beasts borne from Hell taking to the street to be slaughtered by the people, here the Heavens themselves sent their hatred down to slaughter the Sinners. In the same vein, he often wondered why he had picked this in the first place. After what he's been through in Yharnam, was this any better? He had already survived Hell on Earth, why would he choose Hell itself to venture to next? Well, he had chosen randomly, in his addled state. The surface world had been far too advanced for his liking. And recently, he had heard a tiny, tiny voice telling him he didn't deserve to be with other humans, after what he had done to the ones he had known. He had listened to the voice, and found himself here.

He moved to another part of the area, where his eyes landed on the crate of Angelic weapons that he had piled up, and were ready to be sold. He had collected an obscene amount of what used to be rare (rare to him in any regard) metal, and now he had some business to attend to in regards to the overflow of material.

Before he could do anything else, his ears picked up rang the tolling of the gargantuan bell. Extermination Day was over.

Now, he has to wait another year to collect more.

That is if the Princess of Hell, Charlie Morningstar, didn't mess things up with the diplomatic meeting that he had seen on the news.

-Scene Change-

The Hunter, after cleaning his equipment and moving to his contact's predetermined location, carefully sharpened his Saw Cleaver, watching the two women inspecting the neatly piled and sorted weapons he had purloined. One of them, Odette, was writing on her clipboard as she inspected the weapon's condition, markings and general material worth. A sharp, clean and practically unused weapon would be sold as-is to various black market vendors, while a worn, dull and tarnished weapon would be smelted down and repurposed. The other, Clara, watched him maintaining his blade with interest. "Fine-looking weapons you got there. Are these the secrets to your quadruple-digit killstreak?" Her mom had asked her to try and get something out of him that could help them up the ante when it came to their production. While this guy might have been one of their best sources, at the same time her mom was worried that he could become competition if he so chooses. The weapons he used spoke to that, the abomination of a saw having torn through the ranks of Hell's fodder, like school kids in front of a particularly drunk driver.

The Hunter hummed at her words, continuing to sharpen his tool as he faced her.

"You aren't really the talkative one, mister?" Clara commented on his lack of verbal communication, hoping to break the glacial wall and get him to talk.

"Correct." He uttered emotionlessly, before focusing his attention back to his weapon.

Getting nothing from her unsubtle attempts to question him, Clara looked around, and saw five angelic weapons leaning on the wall. These ones were the dullest, most worn down spears she had seen in a while. Who knows how long they'd been in service, but they had no value aside from scrap. But why would he want these? She looked at him, intrigued. "So, what are you going to use them for?"

"Trophies," He responded back, voice perfectly monotonous.

The Demonic Arms Dealer raised an eyebrow at that. In all her encounters with this guy, he had never been the type to collect weapons for display. He had the sort of "Use every tool at your disposal" mindset that her mom appreciated, having told them all about how little he wasted in terms of equipment and energy. "Clara." She turned to look at her sister, who walked to her side. "108 of the weapons are in perfect condition. I found 38 with minor scratches, 27 with noticeable wear and tear, 19 with damage resembling veteran weaponry, and 8 that are only fit for smelting" She focuses her attention on the Hunter. "Mother will be pleased with the amount you present.."

"I am fulfilling my part of the deal," He stoically responded, voice not belying any emotion.

Odette nodded in acknowledgement, before handing a small briefcase to him. Her sister did the talking for her. "We appreciate you've stayed true to what we agreed on. As for your hard work, mom wanted us to give you this."

"Understood," He responded before gently taking the small briefcase from Odette. He gave a silent nod to the two sisters, who waved back at him, before turning away, and traveling to his 'safe haven', which was hidden within the outskirts of the city of the Pride Ring.

He took many confusing and misleading paths down dark alleys and rundown buildings to lose any potential stalkers, and eventually the Hunter arrived at his destination. A small, rundown shack that had absolutely nothing inside but a bed and basic accommodations. It wasn't good-looking, hiding anything, or even big enough to be a hideout, and that was the point. Who would expect this to be his abode? If any had managed to follow him here, and saw the inside, they'd assume this was a fake, and look for him elsewhere. As he sorted his scant belongings that weren't tucked away in some unknown space, he heard ghastly groans behind him, and turned to see those tiny, deformed, creepy Messengers reaching to him while babbling. He smiled behind his mouth cloth at them as he put one knee on the ground.

"Did you miss me?" He asked while stroking one of the Messengers' chins, a few nuzzling against his hand. He'd remembered how distrustful and disgusted he was towards them at the start of his time in Yharnam, but he grew fond of them as time went by, finding their company, however scant, better than the alternative. They had aided him in Hell for the past three years by providing ammunition, repair tools for his weapons, and giving him blood vials while collecting the empty ones when they had been discarded. How they acquired any of these, he thought better than to ask.

"I brought you something," He presented the Angelic Weapons he had collected, as well as the briefcase he was given. The weapons were the most storied ones he could find, with countless Sinners having bled on them. The conflicting elements of Holy steel and demonic blood were apparently delicious to the Messengers, who had no problem eating the decades old weapons like particularly large pretzel sticks. The briefcase contained a custom order of Angelic Steel coins soaked in blood, which the Messengers were quite fond of. Perhaps he was spoiling them, but alas, his hands were tied.

They let out a happy groan as they took it from him. All looked at him, and he knew they wanted his Saw Cleaver as well, to transport for him so he would not be burdened with it at all times. So, he handed it over, at which point they disappeared into blue mist.

Now that he was alone, the Hunter wanted to rest. Walking to the crude chair and table, he sat down, carefully balancing on the three wobbly legs, before placing his worn notebook onto the table covered in various stains. It had been by his side for a long while, and had been his only company during his darkest times. He didn't care that it never ran out of pages.

That was good for him.

He had a lot of things to write about from this day.

-Scene Change-

Charlie felt pained, as she looked from the viewpoint of her room with a frown. She overlooked the city's ruins due to the recent Extermination. This has become a yearly occurrence to combat the overpopulation of Hell, or so Heaven had claimed. Really, she only saw misguided people hurting other, differently misguided people. This is why she started her passion project of opening a place where people can be redeemed and go to Heaven, so that no one would feel hated again. Ambitious? Absolutely. Possible? Of course! She just… needed some time. And help. And…patience.

She wasn't alone, though. She had help from her girlfriend, Vaggie, the cynical Bartender Husk, the Housekeeper Nifty, and the Facility Manager Alastor, also known as the Radio Demon. She even had her first resident recently, in the form of the infamous Pornstar Angel Dust. Together, they ran the hotel in hopes of attracting demons and sinners all over Hell.

Lately, it hasn't gone well, and she has become a laughingstock for both Demons and Sinners. This didn't deter the Princess of Hell, as she was determined to prove that Redemption was possible. But, sometimes, it felt like she had to move a mountain with her bare hands.

That was until recently. She had heard rumors a while back, of a particularly…hurtful…Sinner, that had a…rather impolite reputation. She knew a bitmore after hearing Angel's recount of how he and his friend witnessed him 'beating the dicks off' of twenty-eight sinners at a bar, before disappearing. Apparently, Angel had thought it was 'really fucking hot', and had talked to (pestered for a full day) the mysterious figure, which had given her a name. The Hunter. Specifically not 'Hunter', THE Hunter. Charlie was raised to be polite, and not disrespect anyone just from their name, but c'mon, 'The Hunter' was the type of name a Sinner gave themself before they ended up dying a stupid, more permanent second death. There was one a long while back, some toad sinner had named himself 'The Master', and had tried to make a 'League' of Sinners to 'cleanse the filth' of Pride. He had died horrifically on Extermination Day, alone and outnumbered.

Yet, she had also heard from Angel how he had saved many from the Exorcists during the annual Extermination Day, and that he definitely had the skills to back up his claims. He might have had some knowledge of the arcane arts, because if Angel was telling the truth, there were chunks of the city where crime just didn't happen, not because of intimidation, but because he had said so. It was now physically impossible to commit a crime in those areas, your body just wouldn't let you. Angel said he tried to litter, and instead he had walked half a block to find a trashcan to toss his cigarette butt in. The kind of power to just curse ground like that would put him squarely with Overlords, and he might even rub shoulders with a few noble families.

Other sinners were jealous of it, but there weren't many that could do anything about it that wanted to. Though, to her, there was something about him that gave her thoughts. From what she gathered from Angel, he seemed…sad. He didn't partake in the fruits of sin that were everywhere, instead just disappearing whenever he wasn't needed. Maybe he wanted to be useful?.He may be beneficial to help with her business. Not helping with the customers, of course, but rather as a resident. To turn such a soul as troubled as his would prove redemption was possible. But as much as she wanted to speak to this Hunter, he was very hard to find.

"Charlie?"

Hearing her name caused the Princess of Hell to spin around, seeing who had shown up when she was lost in thought. "Oh!" She turned to see a familiar figure entering her room. "Hey, Vaggie…"

Her girlfriend chuckled at her, always thinking too hard for her own good and nearly walking into things for it. She shook her head while chuckling, and walked over to her. "I know that look, got something on your mind, babe?"

Charlie turned back to the window to see the ruined city. "Yeah. Been thinking about that rumor recently."

The one-eyed woman sighed, as she turned towards her girlfriend. "You mean the guy that Angel knew for only three years, and decided that he was his 'best bud'?"

The Princess of Hell nodded in response. "Yes. I'm thinking about who he is rather than what he is called. I want to help."

Vaggie thought about it, but she had a bad feeling about where this was going. "And what do you mean by that?"

Charlie looked her directly in the eye. "I'm saying that, despite his name and whatever he's done in life, I feel he's lost. Lost and alone, with no one there to save him." She explained. "Do you know what I am thinking of?"

It only took Vaggie a second to realize what she was suggesting, and another to fully comprehend what she said. "What!?" She stood up with a mortified look on her face. "No, no, NO! Don't even think about it, Charlie! I let Alastor in because he's semi negotiable, but this puta is a fucking maniac! Do you know what could happen to this hotel's reputation if you brought him here?!" Vaggie, master of the "worst possible outcome" mindset, had taken it upon herself to do a bit of digging (light bludgeoning and threats towards innocent info brokers) into her girlfriend's fascination, thinking she'd find a past murderer or a genuine wacko.

She found a monster.

Every source (brokers being beaten within an inch of their lives) confirmed the same thing: the Hunter, whoever he was, was a threat to almost every Overlord that operated near him. He had wiped several from the board when they had displeased him by being rude. Specifically displeased! Those were the exact words he had told her most useful contact (She had asked Angel if he knew anything, and had gotten more useful info than every other source combined), that the Overlords had 'left him displeased with their rudeness', and then erased several gangs in a single night! The power vacuum was still empty, due to all the stupid ones dying the same night, and no one smart wanted to fill the gap.

If that level of violence was for a fucking inconvenience, she didn't want him anywhere near her girlfriend, and there was no way she agree, and that's final!

The other girl knew what her girlfriend was talking about, and understood. But at the same time… She looked down at her hands folded across her lap. "I know he's a bit of a fixer-upper, but we have Angel Dust here, and he hasn't ruined this hotel's reputation. And the same can be said for the Radio Demon, and all the…help he brought." Charlie looked her in the eye 'no, no,NO, NO, NO TE ATREVAS-' "Please, Vaggie. I know I can make this work, I promise. Just…give me a chance?" The puppy eyes were on full power now.

Vaggie let out a sigh, her will to fight back deflating like a fat Imp shot full of holes. 'Fuck. I can never say no to her.' At the same time, her girlfriend did bring up a valid point when she mentions the Hunter not ruining the hotel's rep.'Not that it can get any worse, we're already circling the drain as it is' "Fine, I'll take your point into consideration, Charlie. You can…try."

Charlie smiled and jumped form her chair, her beaming attitude back where it belonged. She leaned towards her girlfriend and hugged her, practically picking her up from the floor. "Thank you. Thank you so much, Vaggie!"

Her girlfriend patted her on the back, feeling better already. "There, there. Don't get too excited, we still have to find him, then he has to agree."

The hug broke, Charlie letting go with a curious expression. "Where could we look for him? I mean, he's only active on Extermination Day, he's practically a ghost for the rest of the year."

The one-eyed woman, regretting this immediately, had an idea for finding him. "I think Angel Dust can help with that."

-Scene Change-

Twenty plates were stacked up as the Hunter, who was, as per usual, seated alone, at a restaurant in a Victorian-Styled District, devoured his twenty-first Salted-Beef, lettuce, and tomato sandwich. His rigorous 'workout' built up an incredible hunger, and, considering he had survived off of rations and whatever questionable food he could find for far too long, he didn't care if his manners were a touch ravenous. Eating new foods had always helped him with stress during his younger years, and he had grown fond of finding restaurants such as these to visit with several friends. Considering he had nearly cleaned out the kitchens several times over this same week, he was pleasantly surprised that he kept his hard-earned physique, but that could be due to his aforementioned workout, his deceptively large attire, or that he wasn't quite human anymore. Bah, enough about that when he's got delicious food to eat.

Scooping up the last bits of bread crumbs and meat, he set the empty plate down on the stack, and rubbed his mouth with a tissue before raising his mask. He hailed the server to let them know that he had finished, then stood from his table and walked towards the counter to pay. He counted through his money, then placed enough bills down to compensate for the food that he ordered…plus a little extra. "I believe this should cover it."

The peacock cashier accepted his money, then frowned while counting it. "Uh…you overpaid? By like… a lot?" And indeed, the Hunter had given her the Hell equivalent of half a grand for a meal that cost fifty dollars.

The Hunter was insistent. "Keep it. Think of it as payment for the hard work you have done. I don't want you to be left with an empty pocket." Truth be told, he simply had too much of the stuff lying around due to his deals with Carmille, and he could scarcely deplete his overabundance of wealth before it started piling up again from one thing or another Had he had this 'problem' prior to discovering his illness, there was a possibility he wouldn't have had to- 'Stop. Not now.'

The cashier looked at him, then at the stack of cash in her hands, before facing him again. She smiled, nervously at the Hunter. "Um, sure. Thanks." She chased the necessary amount in the cash register, then pocketed the hefty sum that remained. Once that was done, she looked back at him. "Thanks for that, really. This restaurant would have been out of business three years ago if it weren't for you."

The Hunter hummed in interest upon hearing this. "Is that so?"

The cashier nodded in confirmation. "Yes. Turns out, food from our era isn't as popular as the kind of stuff these modern cooks and machines can churn out, and we've barely been hanging on due to a few nostalgic nobles with big stomachs. But since you came around, that's finally changed. Now we don't have to worry about affording enough fuel just to keep the lamps on."

This particular Sinner had been alive during the Renaissance era, and had been a server then too. The entire staff used to work at the same diner, before they all died of lead poisoning. She'd seen quite a few things in her time, and couldn't care less about her favorite regular's activities or appearance, so long as they stayed in business. There was one other regular, but the peacock hadn't seen her in a while. She hoped to see her again, the crow always had the most fantastic stories to tell.

"I see…" He muttered, pleased that he had finally done something right in life, however small. He waved goodbye as he picked up his weapons, before heading out into the night. As he entered the streets of the Old Silver district, the Hunter looked around the area to see a much calmer scene than it had known in a lifetime. Years ago, the Silver district, which was part of an "old fashioned" city, became home to many Prohibition Era era gangs, from New York to Chicago during the end of the Great Depression. Most were just run of the mill mobsters and bootleggers, who had waited for their bosses down in Hell after carving out a spot for them in the (at the time) wealthiest city, smelling opportunity. A few of the bigger names had made it, and had continued right where they left off on the surface, but had found that their power topside was worthless down here. What was the point of smuggling weapons when you could get better guns at a grocery store? What was the point of bootlegging when the convenience stores sold stronger booze cheaper? Hell may have been a den of sin and vices, but when your trade was in the same sins and vices that used to be a rarity, what was the point? So they had gone back to gunning each other down in the streets, like tiny nations at war. When they had found out they didn't die easy, well that's where creativity came in. What was once the Silver district, a shining display of wealth and power that didn't exist topside at the time, was now the Iron district, of harsh laws and harsher punishments, where not abiding by any of the dozen-odd rulebooks each gang wrote could get you chopped into bits and buried in concrete. They were still digging up people to this day.

It was like that for nearly seventy years until the Hunter arrived three years ago. When he had first arrived in the dangerous area, he had been, admittedly, a tad out-of-sorts. First he had awoken to find himself a monster, then he had discovered that almost three centuries had passed, then he had been threatened by no less than five separate groups for his choice of attire. His first Sinner proved to be a challenge. Not in skill, but the fact that they wouldn't die. When his weapons had failed to end their life permanently, he had instead cut them into the smallest pieces he could, then went out in search of whatever weapon he needed. This is how he had met Carmille, with him carrying a screaming gopher head in a bag, asking people if they knew how to kill them, and her watching as he kept sawing off the slowly regrowing neck. This was how their first deal was struck, with her giving him the secret of killing Sinners in exchange for the wealth of the Iron families. The Hunter, fully absorbed in the mission, agreed. One very bloody night later, he completed his mission, and Carmille was a hundred million dollars richer.

Then came the hard part: actually fixing the district. The people that lived there were bitter, suspicious, and paranoid. That's how they had survived for so long, after all. But when a new player showed up, whacked all five heads, then didn't start making rules? They were getting a taste of a new future. He had tried, genuinely tried, to make things better the normal way, but it was obvious his standards of living were woefully out of date. So, he made use of the curse that afflicted him. He simply ordered peace, and therefore there was. He couldn't do so for the entire city, but what was once the Iron district was now a true neutral ground, and had slowly begun to breathe again after so many decades of stagnation. But, the district had changed in more than just a metaphorical atmosphere. Rather, the physical atmosphere had changed as well, and was shrouded in a thin but enveloping mist that was achingly familiar to the Hunter.

The calm environment allowed him to be deep in his thoughts. Bitterness came to mind; having lost far too many of his brothers and sisters-in-arms during his Night of the Hunt, yet he had found himself alone in this strange environment, an ascended Hunter who lost everything in Yharnam. His sins, his murders all came with him however, Beasts, humans, and humanoids alike, drowned in a dark and fetid lake of blood. It didn't matter who or what he killed, it had changed nothing. Yet even after his failures in life, he had kept killing during these three years in Hell.

It was still an unknown territory to him, after all. It was easier, and often more beneficial, to simply do what came instinctively. The Hunter had to always be on guard wherever he went and could take no chance, regardless of the people he was talking to.

Especially to the two people that were following. One of them, given the scent of blood and perfume, was a particularly brutal woman. 'She's carrying something of Angelic nature. Spear, knife, or just a trinket?' The other was the scent he had the misfortune of smelling far too often. It seemed that the 'porn-star' known as Angel Dust had decided they were friends. While he wasn't the sociable type, any company that wouldn't attempt to swindle, bribe or endanger him was preferable to none. He turned to greet his company, a spider and a one-eyed bomber that carried a spear by her side.

"Yo, Hunter!" Angel greeted him with a flirtatious smile. "Did ya miss lil' ol' me?"

"No," The Hunter nonchalantly replied, already exhausted from this exchange.

The pornstar dramatically reeled back and gasped at the other man's response. He turned to his compatriot, a beaming smile plastered across his face. "See, Vaggie? I told you he's an enthusiastic fella."

"I can see that." Vaggie flatley answered, before shifting to the Hunter. "You got quite a reputation around here, or so I've heard."

"So it seems," The Hunter spoke, not caring about the mentioned reputation at all. If anything, he was more often than not reminded of his opposite reputation, where every other hour he was harassed in the streets by begrudged members of now-defunct gangs and fighters looking for the 'Iron Breaker'. All factors considered, this one might be one of the latter. Although…perhaps it was time he didn't go for violence from the get go. Since it was someone Angel knew, maybe he could trust them, if only for a minute.

The one-eyed woman glanced at Angel, who merely flashed a thumbs up at her, before focusing back on her target. "You're doing great!" Angel whisper-yelled at her. She resisted the urge to break his neck, before sighing. Alright, so-

"What is your purpose here?" The Hunter was getting tired of this. She wasn't trying to fight him, but at the same time, she wasn't getting to the point.

Angel and Vaggie looked at each other. 'Alright, to the point then' "Charlie- as in Charlie Morningstar, the princess of Hell, would like to invite you to the Happy Hotel, and blah blah blah redemption blah blah I didn't finish the script." The pornstar (poorly) explained, hoping that they could finish up quick so he could visit his favorite diner around here. One of the things that had survived the Iron years and the Hunter's rampage had been authentic 1920's era Italian cuisine, and he was itching for some authentic pasta that he didn't have to slog through family territory to get. Linguine tasted best when a family member wasn't screaming in your ear.

"The Princess of Hell?" The Hunter spoke, a slight hint of surprise in his voice. He knew of her, he had seen the broadcast, and while it hadn't painted her in a good light, he understood the idea. However, the same idea that the denizens of Hell scoffed at and mocked found favor in his eyes. He had learned that not every problem needed blood spilt, nor bones broken. He had thought, for a moment, what it would be like, to be redeemed, until the reminder of what he was sunk in his chest. He would never be allowed near the gates of Heaven, no matter how hard he tried. But, he didn't expect her, of all people, to come find him.

"Yes," Vaggie nodded, "She heard about your reputation from your…let's say, questionable actions here over the past three years."

The Hunter lowered his head slightly. Actions do indeed have consequences. Still, he lifted his head and began to ask a single question. "What does she want?"

"Charlie wants you to join the Hazbin Hotel, find redemption, and go to heaven." Vaggie answered, hoping he declined.

Again, he was slightly more surprised than last time. "She wants me to stay at her hotel?"

Again, the one-eyed woman nodded. "Yes. She has the idea that, if you can be redeemed, then anyone can go to Heaven." Her words were laced with uncertainty, which the Hunter could understand. While he wasn't above the idea of a better life, he truly did not deserve anything better. "So, what do you say?"

The Hunter thought long and hard about it. On one hand, he could simply deny and just walk off, returning to the life he understood. But that would mean he would never be redeemed, and he would have personally slighted the highest of Hell's nobility. While he couldn't care less about the politics of Hell, he was not willing to test the mercy of the daughter of Lucifer. On the other hand, he could simply comply, change his life for the better, then…what? There was no future in Heaven for him, he knew that much. But if someone actually believed he could change for the better, what could he lose? There was a clear answer. He drew in a deep breath of the misty air, then released it. "Very well. I shall travel with you."

Vaggie couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration. He wasn't supposed to say yes! He was supposed to decline, spout something stupid so she had an excuse to punch him, then she'd go home. Uuh, whatever. Puta. Here's hoping he didn't fuck things up anymore than they already are. "Alright then. I'm headed back, Ang-" She lost Angel. Whipping around, she realized he had ditched her in the fog, and was probably off doing Hell-knows what, while leaving her with the potentially unhinged maniac. Damnit.

HH: Alright, take two. Most of the legwork in this story is looking up random historical things because I'm an uneducated American.

The Hunter has begrudgingly joined Hazbin Hotel at the request of the Princess of Hell, Charlie Morningstar. Also blink and you miss it cameo

Probably gonna revamp a lot more chapters, see if I missed anything the first time around

Sorry if there were any Out Of Character Moments or any lore I fucked up, but I want to satisfy those who wants to read it. (HH: If we got it wrong, fuck you reality is what I make it. In this story two characters are fucking nasty everytime they're offscreen and there's nothing you can do about it.)

See ya all in the next chapter, motherfuckers!