Salty and Timmy approached the small, nondescript house, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the lawn. Salty adjusted his trench coat, muttering under his breath about how something didn't sit right about the case. Timmy, always vigilant, had his notebook in hand, ready to jot down any details.
As they reached the door, Salty raised a hand to knock, but he stopped short. The door was slightly ajar, the wood splintered around the lock. He exchanged a wary glance with Timmy, both of them drawing their pistols in unison.
"LAPD," Salty called out, his voice gruff. "Anybody home?"
The house was silent.
Pushing the door open with his foot, Salty took the lead, stepping cautiously inside. The air was thick with the coppery tang of blood and something else—something acrid and foul that Timmy couldn't quite place.
"Check your corners," Salty muttered, moving forward with his gun at the ready. Timmy followed closely, his eyes darting around the dimly lit entryway.
The house was eerily still, the only sound their soft footfalls on the hardwood floor. As they made their way into the living room, the scene that greeted them was nothing short of horrifying.
The store owner's body was sprawled across the floor, or what was left of it. His torso had been torn open, organs strewn about like grotesque confetti. His face was frozen in an expression of terror, his lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.
Around him lay the bodies of several more people, dressed in what looked like cultist robes. Their attire was dark and ceremonial, adorned with strange, occult-like symbols. Each of them bore similar injuries—slashes, punctures, and what looked like burns—but their wounds were less gruesome than the store owner's.
"Holy hell," Salty muttered, lowering his gun slightly as he took in the carnage.
Timmy's hand trembled as he scribbled in his notebook, his voice shaky. "This… this wasn't just a robbery gone wrong. This is something else entirely."
Salty crouched down near one of the cultists, his face grim. "No kidding. Look at these guys—robes, symbols. This looks like some kind of ritual. But what the hell were they doing here?"
Timmy pointed to a chalk circle on the floor, partially obscured by the blood. Within the circle were more strange symbols, drawn with precision. "Looks like they were trying to summon something… or someone."
Salty's frown deepened. "Well, whatever they called, it wasn't friendly."
Salty, still crouched near the mangled body of the store owner, pulled out his phone and quickly dialed for backup. His voice was gruff, but there was a hint of urgency.
"This is Detective Winters. We've got multiple bodies at the scene, and it's a goddamn bloodbath. I need backup and a coroner down here ASAP. Send the forensics team too—this ain't your usual Saturday night."
As he finished the call, Timmy stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the far wall. His face had gone pale, his notebook slipping from his hand.
"Salty," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What is it, kid?" Salty asked, standing and turning to follow Timmy's line of sight.
There, scrawled in what looked like dried blood, was a large symbol—a sharp, angular "V" encased in a crude circle. It was jagged, almost like it had been scratched into the wall with something sharp. The edges of the symbol were slightly burnt, as if it had been seared into the plaster.
"What the hell…" Salty muttered, stepping closer to inspect it.
As the battle raged on, Spawn quickly realized that Redeemer's movements had become even more unpredictable with the grotesque, crimson wings now in place. The once-disciplined and precise attacks of the Redeemer he remembered were gone, replaced by chaotic lunges and brutal swipes. Yet, despite the erratic nature of his strikes, Redeemer's power hadn't diminished in the slightest. If anything, the corrupted energy coursing through him made him even more dangerous.
Spawn deflected a blow with his axe, but the sheer force of it sent him skidding back across the rubble-strewn ground. Redeemer's wings pulsed with a malevolent energy, crackling with crimson light that threatened to engulf everything in its path.
"Damn it, stay down already!" Spawn snarled, charging forward. His chains lashed out, wrapping tightly around Redeemer's legs. With a sharp pull, he severed one of the armored limbs clean off, sending Redeemer crashing to the ground.
Spawn planted his axe into the ground and loomed over the fallen figure. "You're falling apart," he taunted, his voice laced with venom.
But his victory was short-lived. Crimson tendrils erupted from the stump of Redeemer's leg, writhing and twisting as they reshaped into a grotesque new limb. The regenerated leg was malformed, but functional, and the creature rose once more, unphased by the loss.
Spawn took a step back, glaring at the abomination before him. "You're not just corrupted. You're being controlled," he said, his tone cold as he analyzed the situation.
Redeemer responded with a guttural roar, his corrupted wings propelling him forward at an alarming speed. Spawn barely had time to brace as Redeemer slammed into him, driving him through another building.
Pinned beneath the rubble, Spawn gritted his teeth and forced himself up, necroplasm surging through his body to heal his injuries. This wasn't just a battle—it was a war of attrition, and Spawn could feel the weight of it pressing down on him.
But he wasn't about to give in. He tightened his grip on his axe and prepared for the next wave, determined to figure out who—or what—was pulling Redeemer's strings.
The lobby of the Hazbin Hotel was packed to the brim with guests, staff, and volunteers. Every screen available—TVs mounted on the walls, personal phones, and even a few old tablets—was tuned into Channel 666's live coverage of Spawn's ongoing battle in the Greed Ring.
The broadcast was chaos: shaky footage from witnesses, dramatic commentary from Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench, and the distant sound of explosions and screams. Every so often, a blurry shot of Spawn or Redeemer would appear, locked in a brutal clash that had the commentators breathlessly narrating every move.
Charlie stood at the center of it all, her hands clasped tightly in front of her chest as she watched the screen with growing concern. "He's really holding his own, but—what is that thing he's fighting?" she asked aloud, mostly to herself.
Vaggie stood beside her, her arms crossed tightly as she tried to mask her worry. "Whatever it is, it's not normal," she said grimly. "It's not like anything I've ever seen. And Spawn... He's tough, but even he has limits."
One of the newer guests, a young man with a gaunt face, leaned closer to the screen. "It's some kind of holy warrior, right? But it looks...wrong."
"That's no holy warrior," Niffty piped up from her perch on a nearby counter, her usual cheerful demeanor replaced with a scrutinizing stare. "I've cleaned up enough holy bodies to know—they don't glow like that."
The room fell silent as the camera feed briefly caught a close-up of Redeemer, his crimson wings unfurling in all their grotesque glory. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the corrupted figure launched another vicious attack, sending Spawn hurtling through the remains of a skyscraper.
Charlie flinched but didn't look away. "He's going to win. I know he will," she said, her voice firm but tinged with desperation.
Vaggie placed a comforting hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Spawn's faced impossible odds before," she said. "If anyone can figure out how to beat that thing, it's him."
Despite her words, a heavy tension hung in the air as everyone continued to watch, waiting to see how the battle would unfold.
The clash between Spawn and Redeemer reached a fever pitch as Redeemer pinned Spawn to the ground, his glowing crimson sword descending toward Spawn's neck. Spawn strained against the blade, his own weapon locked in a desperate struggle to keep the Redeemer's strike at bay.
Redeemer's hollow, decaying face remained expressionless, but the sheer force he exerted spoke volumes. The corrupted being seemed tireless, and Spawn could feel the ground beneath him cracking under the weight of their struggle.
Just as the blade inched closer, a metallic clang echoed through the battlefield as a metal I-beam struck Redeemer square in the back, causing him to stagger forward slightly.
"Yeah, that's right, fuckhead! Get out of my ring!" Mammon's voice rang out from a safe distance. The Sin of Greed stood defiantly, another piece of debris in hand, his face flushed with a mix of fear and bravado.
Redeemer turned his head slowly, his glowing crimson eyes locking onto Mammon. The sight alone was enough to drain the courage from the Sin of Greed. Mammon dropped the debris and quickly pointed to a nearby imp. "He did it!" Mammon stammered, before promptly bolting for safety.
The distraction was all Spawn needed. With a growl, he lashed out with one of his chains, the razor-sharp links slicing cleanly through Redeemer's arm. The severed limb hit the ground with a sickening thud, glowing faintly with corrupted divine energy.
Spawn pushed himself up, panting heavily, but before he could even attempt to press his advantage, the grotesque crimson tendrils emerged once again from Redeemer's stump. Within seconds, a new arm had formed, identical to the last.
"Damn it," Spawn muttered, his green eyes glowing with frustration as he braced himself for the next round.
Redeemer turned back toward Spawn, his weapon raised, seemingly unfazed by the loss and regeneration of his limb. The corrupted being remained relentless, and the battle raged on, drawing the attention of all who dared to watch.
The tension in the Hazbin Hotel lobby was palpable as everyone watched the battle unfold on the screen. Spawn's relentless clashes with the corrupted Redeemer held the audience spellbound, though the dread was unmistakable. Each time Spawn landed a blow, Redeemer regenerated with grotesque crimson tendrils, seemingly unfazed by his injuries.
Charlie clutched her hands to her chest, her eyes twitching nervously as she watched the brutal spectacle. She could see the strain on Spawn, the weight of this fight pressing down on him. While Spawn had fought countless battles and triumphed against impossible odds, this felt different. This wasn't just a fight—it was survival.
"We need to do something," Charlie said, her voice trembling but resolute. She turned to Vaggie, her eyes filled with determination. "We can't just sit here and watch him fight for his life."
Vaggie hesitated, folding her arms and glancing back at the screen. "Charlie, I know you want to help, but Spawn has handled everything thrown at him so far. He's the strongest fighter I've ever seen. What could we possibly do?"
Charlie stepped closer to Vaggie, her tone firm. "This isn't about whether we can fight like him or not. This is about being there for him. He's fought so many battles—for us, for others, for Hell itself. He's put himself on the line time and time again, and he's done it alone." She paused, her voice softening. "He shouldn't have to feel like he's alone in this."
Vaggie frowned, her shoulders sagging slightly. She could see the passion in Charlie's eyes and knew her girlfriend wasn't going to back down. "Alright," Vaggie said, relenting. "But if we're doing this, we have to be smart about it. I don't want you getting hurt."
Charlie nodded quickly, grateful for Vaggie's support. "We'll be careful. But we have to go."
With that, Charlie grabbed her phone and sent a quick message to Beelzebub, Asmodeus and her father, hoping they might be able to help. As the two hurried to a portal Charlie made, the other residents watched them leave, whispering among themselves about Charlie's bravery.
Spawn had stood for them. Now it was time for them to stand for him.
Spawn staggered back slightly, his chest burning from the divine-infused slash. He could feel his necroplasm trying to knit the wound back together, but Redeemer's energy was making the process agonizingly slow. Clenching his fists, he steadied himself, his glowing green eyes locked on the abomination in front of him.
From the sidelines, Mammon's voice rang out, "You got this, Spawn! Come on! Kick his—"
"Shut the fuck up!" Spawn roared, turning his head briefly toward the Sin of Greed. His voice was filled with raw fury, cutting Mammon off instantly as the sinners silently ducked back behind cover.
Before he could refocus, a sudden burst of fire struck Redeemer in the back, forcing him to stumble forward. Startled, Spawn snapped his gaze to the source of the attack.
Standing defiantly behind Redeemer were Charlie and Vaggie. Charlie gripped her pitchfork, the tips crackling with hellfire, while her other hand held a burning orb of flame. Beside her, Vaggie wielded her spear, its sharp point glinting ominously. Her wings were fully spread, giving her an almost angelic yet deadly appearance.
"Are you out of your minds?" Spawn barked, his voice a mixture of shock and anger. He advanced toward them, glaring at the two women. "Get out of here now! This isn't your fight, and I'm not about to let you get hurt!"
But Charlie stood her ground, her eyes burning with determination. "We're not leaving," she said firmly. "You've fought for us, for so many others, time and time again. You don't have to do this alone, Al. We're here for you."
"She's right," Vaggie added, leveling her spear toward Redeemer. "You've taken enough on your own shoulders. It's about time someone had your back."
Spawn gritted his teeth, torn between his instinct to protect them and the reality of the situation. Redeemer was relentless, a far cry from any opponent they had faced before. But even as he hesitated, Redeemer turned his attention toward the two women, his crimson wings spreading wide as if to intimidate them.
A guttural growl escaped Spawn's throat as he stepped forward again, his chains unfurling menacingly around him. "Fine," he snarled. "But if you get yourselves killed, that's on you."
Charlie nodded, tightening her grip on her pitchfork. "We'll follow your lead."
As Redeemer let out an otherworldly screech and surged toward them, the three stood united, ready to face whatever came next.
The battle raged on, the three of them moving in unison like a well-oiled machine. While it was clear that Spawn and Vaggie were far more experienced fighters, Charlie made up for her lack of skill with sheer determination. She wielded her pitchfork with surprising strength, hellfire dancing in her hands as she launched bursts of it toward Redeemer.
Redeemer, however, quickly identified Charlie as the weakest link. With a sudden shift, he focused his attacks on her, lunging forward with his crimson blade.
"Watch it!" Spawn growled, leaping in front of Charlie and deflecting the blow with his chains. The force sent sparks flying as Redeemer's blade collided with the necroplasm-infused metal.
Vaggie was quick to capitalize, darting in and slashing at Redeemer's side with her spear, forcing him to stumble. "Stay away from her, you bastard!" she hissed, her wings flaring as she blocked Redeemer's path toward Charlie.
Despite being targeted, Charlie refused to back down. As Redeemer reeled from Vaggie's strike, she hurled another burst of hellfire at him, landing a direct hit to his chest. "I'm not going anywhere!" she shouted, her voice unwavering.
Redeemer staggered but quickly recovered, his movements growing more erratic and furious. During the chaos, Spawn managed to wrap one of his chains around Redeemer's neck, yanking him off balance. Vaggie seized the opportunity, her spear slicing upward and knocking the helmet from Redeemer's head.
The two women froze for a brief moment as the helmet clattered to the ground, revealing the decayed, hollow face beneath. Charlie gasped, her pitchfork lowering slightly. "Is that… Adam?" she whispered, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Vaggie's grip on her spear tightened as she took a cautious step back. "It can't be… He's supposed to be dead."
"He is dead," Spawn growled, his eyes narrowing as he kept his chains taut around Redeemer. "And yet, here he is."
Redeemer's lifeless eyes stared blankly at them, his jaw slack as crimson tendrils pulsed unnaturally across his face. The sight was grotesque, and the unnatural stillness made it even more unsettling.
"How is this possible?" Charlie asked, her voice trembling.
Before Spawn could answer, Redeemer let out an ear-piercing shriek, the crimson tendrils writhing violently as his wings flared. With a sudden burst of strength, he broke free from Spawn's chains, sending the three of them sprawling back as he prepared to strike again.
"Doesn't matter how," Spawn said as he forced himself back up, his green eyes blazing with fury. "We end him here and now."
Charlie and Vaggie nodded, steeling themselves as the fight resumed.
Redeemer suddenly stood still, his body beginning to pulse with divine energy. And in a flash, he released it.
The burst of divine energy left a crater around them, scattering debris and weapons in every direction. Spawn, Charlie, and Vaggie were hurled across the battlefield like ragdolls, landing hard against the crumbling ground.
Vaggie coughed, struggling to push herself up on shaky arms. Before she could fully regain her footing, Redeemer loomed over her, his decayed visage twisting in eerie silence. With a horrifying speed, his hand shot out and clamped around her throat, lifting her off the ground as she kicked and clawed at his arm.
"Vaggie!" Charlie screamed, trapped beneath a heavy piece of debris. She strained against it, her voice growing more desperate. "Let her go!"
Spawn staggered to his feet, his body still wracked with pain from the divine energy. He glanced around, his sharp eyes locking onto Vaggie's spear lying a few feet away. Without hesitation, he lunged for it, gripping the weapon tightly in his hands.
"Get your filthy hands off her," Spawn growled. In one swift, calculated motion, he hurled the spear with all his might.
The spear struck true, piercing through Redeemer's back and bursting out through his chest. A sickening crunch echoed across the battlefield as the weapon skewered him, divine energy flickering and crackling erratically around the wound.
Redeemer's body seized up, his glowing eyes dimming as the crimson tendrils writhing across his form began to wither. His grip on Vaggie loosened, and she fell to the ground, coughing violently as she tried to catch her breath.
Charlie finally freed herself from the debris and scrambled over to Vaggie, pulling her into a protective embrace. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Vaggie nodded weakly, leaning against Charlie for support. "Y-Yeah… I'm okay," she rasped, her eyes flicking toward Redeemer.
Spawn approached the now-limp body, his glowing green eyes narrowed. Redeemer's form twitched for a moment before falling utterly still, the unnatural energy that had animated him dissipating into the air.
"It's over," Spawn muttered, his gaze lingered on the motionless corpse, his mind racing with questions.
Charlie stood, helping Vaggie to her feet. She looked at Spawn, her face a mixture of relief and fear. "What was that thing? And how… how was he still alive?"
"I don't know," Spawn said, his voice grim. "But we need to find out. This wasn't just Adam. Something else is at play here."
The three of them stared at the fallen Redeemer, the eerie silence of the aftermath settling over the ruined battlefield.
Spawn yanked the spear from Redeemer's back, its metal glinting in the dim light. The blade wasn't slick with blood as expected; instead, what dangled from its tip made all three of them recoil in horror.
A grotesque, pulsating mass clung to the end of the spear—a horrific blend of a parasite and a root cluster. The organic tendrils twisted and writhed faintly, still brimming with the faint, sickly glow of crimson energy. It looked alive, even though it had been severed from Redeemer's body.
Charlie covered her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. "What… what is that thing?"
Vaggie stepped closer, her expression a mix of disgust and curiosity. "It's not natural. It's like… some kind of parasite," she said, her voice shaky. "But what was it doing inside him?"
Spawn knelt, inspecting the grotesque mass with a grim expression. He could see faint veins of corrupted divine energy coursing through it, pulsing weakly like the last beats of a dying heart. The sight filled him with unease.
"This isn't Adam," Spawn muttered. "Not entirely."
Charlie tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
Spawn pointed to the mass. "Whatever this is, it's been controlling him. Manipulating his body. The energy in it… it's not just divine. It's… corrupted, twisted. Someone—or something—put this inside him."
Vaggie crossed her arms, her wings fluttering slightly in agitation before she folded them back against herself. "But who could even do something like that? And why?"
Spawn didn't answer immediately, his mind racing through possibilities. He had seen many horrors in his time, but this was something new—a perversion of divine energy he couldn't fully comprehend.
"We need to take this back to the hotel," Spawn finally said, his voice firm. "If we're going to figure out what's going on, we need to study it."
Charlie hesitated, glancing at the writhing parasite. "Are you sure that's safe? What if it's still… dangerous?"
Spawn stood, holding the spear with the grotesque mass still attached. "We don't have a choice. If this thing brought Redeemer back and corrupted him, then whoever—or whatever—is behind it isn't done yet."
The weight of his words hung heavily in the air as the three of them stared at the crimson mass, its faint movements a chilling reminder of the battle they had just survived—and the dark forces that were still at play.
Before the three could do anything else, a laugh rang out behind them. A laugh that Spawn was all too familiar with, but one he never expected to hear here.
Spawn's glowing green eyes narrowed as the laugh echoed through the wreckage of the Greed Ring. Slowly, he turned to face the source of the sound.
Standing a few feet away was a grotesque figure that Charlie and Vaggie had never seen before. Short, rotund, and utterly repulsive, the creature was dressed black jacket with a stripped shirt, its makeup smeared and grinning like a predator. He held a greasy slice of mold covered pizza, taking a bite as he sauntered closer.
Charlie's nose wrinkled. "Who… or what is that?"
Vaggie's spear shifted slightly in her hands as she took a defensive stance. "He doesn't look friendly."
But Spawn barely acknowledged their words, his gaze locked on the clown. His voice was low and venomous when he spoke. "Violator."
Authors Note: No update tomorrow. I hope everyone has a very good holiday.
