Eddie On a Cross: A Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction

by Kiki94NightWitch588

Eddie, aka Headshot, is a sinner demon assassin. To give his sister a better future, he leaves her at the Hazbin Hotel. An accident convinces him to stay and use his powers for good. Adam's return will disrupt everyone's lives, a birthday present will prove dangerous, Charlie will discover his dual nature, and Angel Dust will finally find someone who truly loves him.

5. The Past That Returns

In her office, Charlie studied the concept map she had created. She was trying to figure out how to solve this riddle and what questions to ask the Idols. On the desk next to her, Vaggie flipped through tome after tome, looking for clues: books on riddles, articles on the construction of the Celestial Embassy, and even some insights into ancient Greece, since the language the riddle was written in was indeed Greek.

«How about ... I ask the idols directly? Now that we know the meanings of their monosyllables, it should be easy...» Charlie suggested.

«But how do you tell them apart? Let's say they all answer in the affirmative to the question "Are you Truth?"» Vaggie replied.

Tired and frustrated, Charlie covered her face with one hand: «Argh, you're right. She expressed her sadness by saying «I believe Sir Pentious would be the only person capable of solving this riddle».

«Pentious was an engineer, he didn't know anything about riddles.» Added Vaggie: «We need someone who is good with riddles and with the spoken language in general. Or someone who knows how the Embassy of Heaven was built, maybe the information on the crypt is included.»

A flash of inspiration crossed Charlie's mind, jolting her. «Belphegor!» she exclaimed, her eyes shining with determination. «The archive of the Sloth Ring! That's where we have to go.»

Vaggie raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. «Belphegor? The Arch-Demon of Sloth? He's not exactly known for being... active.»

«I know.» Charlie replied «But it's also true that Belphegor has accumulated immense knowledge over the millennia. In addition to corrupting souls, he is also the keeper of the very ancient archive of the Sloth Ring. If there is a place where we can find information about the construction of the Celestial Embassy and perhaps some clues to the riddle, it is there.»

Vaggie remained skeptical. «Yes, but you've mentioned the Sloth Ring to me more than once.» she told her in a worried tone. «The more time you spend there, the harder it is to get out. It's too dangerous to stay, especially when we have to spend hours searching through such a huge archive.»
Charlie took a moment to think. «I know very well how the Rings work, Vaggie. I am the Princess of Hell, after all. But if we really want to solve this situation, we have to be willing to take risks.» A thought began to form in her mind and a smile appeared on her face. «We might have a solution, though. We have to bring someone with such an energetic and hyperactive personality that can keep us awake. Someone who is... explosive.»
Vaggie took a moment to comprehend, then her eyes widened. «Oh, no...»
Charlie nodded firmly. «Oh, yes.»
«Oh, no!»
«Oh, yes!»
«Not Cherri Bomb! Anyone but her!»
Charlie approached Vaggie and tried to calm her down. «Vaggie, you have to trust me. Cherri isn't the most stable of our friends, but she's the best for the job.»
Vaggie relented, covering her face with one hand in frustration. «All right. But if we get into trouble with the Arch-demon of laziness, it will be all your fault!»
Charlie smiled warmly at her. «Don't worry, Belphegor is peaceful by nature. It couldn't be otherwise.» she added in a slightly amused tone.
Vaggie didn't seem completely convinced, but her thoughts shifted to another topic. «Well, in this case there is another obstacle.» she pointed out. «Cherri's not in a good mood today.»
Charlie looked at her in surprise. «And how do you know that?»
«The downstairs walls are still in one piece.» Vaggie replied with a sigh. «I'm sure she's in mourning at Sir Pentious' memorial.»
Charlie didn't lose her enthusiasm. «Another reason to convince her to come! Maybe giving her an important mission will help her distract herself and make her feel useful.»

Vaggie looked at her with a mixture of resignation and admiration. «I hope you're right, Charlie. This mission is getting more and more complicated.»

–

As Vaggie had predicted, they found Cherri Bomb in front of the memorial dedicated to Sir Pentious. The area was decorated with flowers and small tributes left by his friends and supporters, a silent tribute to the cobra-bodied sinner who had sacrificed himself to protect those he loved.

Sitting on a stone bench, Cherri Bomb was lost in thought, submerged in a sea of regrets and memories. Though they had shared only a fleeting kiss, the bond she felt with Sir Pentious was deep and inextricable. Since he had sacrificed himself, Cherri often brooded over what they had lost: the evenings never lived, the dates never made, and the conversations never had. While she tried to maintain a facade of indifference and strength, inside her grief was a whirlpool that dragged her down. Regret for a future they could never share haunted her incessantly.

As Charlie and Vaggie approached, Cherri Bomb looked up, trying to hide the deep sadness in her eyes behind her usual brash and somewhat arrogant demeanor. «What is it? What can I do for you?» she asked, in a tone that tried to be professional but hinted at vulnerability.

Charlie stepped forward and spoke gently, aware of the fragility of the moment. «You know we're trying to reach the Paradise Phone, right? To solve the riddle that hides it, we have to go down to the Sloth Ring. There is an ancient archive there, a place where documents and writings dating back to ancient times are kept. We believe we can find the answers we need to decipher the riddle there. And hopefully we can also find out about Sir Pentious... and find out if he was reincarnated in heaven or if something similar happened to Adam. However, if we stay in the ring too long, we risk falling asleep and not being able to return. We need someone energetic enough to resist the effects of the place and keep us awake.»

Cherri Bomb took a moment to think. The pain of losing Sir Pentious was still very much with her, but the opportunity to help, combined with the hope of getting a concrete answer about the fate of her beloved, gave her the impetus she needed to make a decision. If there was even the slightest chance that Sir Pentious could still be reached, she had to try. «All right.» she said finally, her voice charged with renewed determination. «I will help you. And maybe it will be good to think about something else for a while.»

–

«Ah, no! Nu-uhuhuhuhuhuh! No, no, no, no, Charlie, no! You know I love you and I would do anything for you, but... I can't send a human soul out of the Pride Ring, especially if it has to go all the way to the Sloth Ring.» An irritated Lucifer stood before his daughter, Vaggie, and Cherri Bomb in his private laboratory. His expression showed that he was not at all pleased with Charlie's plan. Not only was she putting herself in danger, but also Cherri Bomb, a sinner who, by law, should be confined to the highest ring of Hell.

Charlie was not discouraged by his father's attitude. «Dad, I know that usually human souls get stuck here, in the Pride Ring, but Cherri Bomb is essential to this mission. We must have access to the archive, don't you want to find out why Adam is here, in hell?»

Lucifer shook his head, his tone stern but concerned. «Even the Hellborns have a hard time surviving in that state of apathy, Charlie. Just think of the effect it is going to have on Cherri! No matter how much resistance she thinks she has, the Sloth Ring will drain her completely. She won't be able to resist it.» His gaze shifted briefly to Cherri Bomb, almost studying her, as if trying to understand how a mortal could even think of surviving such an environment.

«And you want me to go alone?» replied Charlie, trying to remain calm, but with a spark of determination in her eyes. «You know how dangerous it is to go there without an ally.»

Lucifer sighed heavily and lowered his eyes for a moment. «I could come...» he suggested in a lower voice.

«Dad, you know you're not in the right frame of mind. You are in a submissive phase, the Sloth Ring is not a place where you can afford to fall asleep. It would shut you down and you know it.»

Lucifer's face tightened into a bitter grimace. He hated to admit it, but his daughter was right. Even though he was the King of Hell, the rules of the Sloth Ring were merciless even for him. Had he entered it, his strength would have left him and he would have been trapped in a deep sleep for who knew how long, a risk he could not afford to take.

Charlie noticed her father's reaction and softened the tone of her voice: «I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so harsh. It's just... After the last time, I was hoping you'd have more faith in me.»

Lucifer sighed deeply. «Charlie, I have faith in you, but... Cherri is human. She's not an angel nor a Hellborn. She won't be able to resist long...»

Cherri Bomb, who had been watching the fight from the sidelines, erupted: «I can resist! With all due-actually, with no respect at all, Lucifer: I didn't arrive in Hell yesterday. I have already endured my share of suffering and pain. I blow things up for fun, you really think a little magic sleeping lure can take me down? You underestimate me. You have no idea how resistant it is!»

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, faking detachment and contemptuous curiosity. «Oh, really? You think you're so tough?»

Cherri, maintaining his arrogant attitude, nodded with determination: «I'm tougher than anything.»

«Very well, then.» Lucifer replied, approaching a cabinet. With slow, deliberate gestures, he pulled out a cylindrical container, similar to those used for prescription drugs, with a pink label that said "Sleep Pills" in round letters. He placed it in Cherri's hands and added: «These are the pills I use to sleep at night. They are made by Belphegor himself. One is enough for a full night's sleep, two will give you relaxing dreams, and three will let you live out your innermost desires while dreaming, but they will keep you asleep longer. If you are really that resistant, I want you to take three and prove to me that you can resist the temptation to stay in dreamland for the duration of your sleep. Extra credit if you can manage not to fall asleep at all. If you accept the challenge, you will have three hours to prove yourself. If you win, I will cast a spell on you to reverse the effects of the pills and you can leave immediately. If not, Charlie will have to come up with another plan to solve the riddle.»

Charlie felt a shiver run down her spine, aware of the near impossibility of the mission. It was a challenge. Her wrists shook.

Cherri, however, was not intimidated. With a cheeky smile, she declared: «Challenge accepted.» Without hesitation, she swallowed the three sleeping pills all at once, without even needing a glass of water.

Vaggie, worried, shook her head. «This is going to be bad.»

Cherri sat in a chair near Lucifer's desk, crossed her arms, and prepared to endure the three-hour challenge. She was determined to win; she would not back down for a moment. She had to do it for herself, for Charlie, and in memory of Sir Pentious.

«Dad, you're overdoing it» Charlie said, her tone slightly exasperated. «You couldn't just make her take one pill only?»

Lucifer, not looking away from his instruments, calmly replied: «Charlie, the effect of three Belphegor pills is similar to what you experience in the Sloth Ring. If she can withstand that, she can survive the ring. While she faces this challenge, I will continue with my creations. You may leave if you wish. I will inform you of the outcome.»

«We will stay, sir.» Vaggie said, sitting down in a chair. «We're ready to leave if she wins the challenge. If she loses, at least we'll be here to escort her to her room.»

Lucifer nodded and returned to his workbench, where he began constructing a rubber duck with features that resembled Vaggie. The tension in the workshop was palpable, as Lucifer watched intently between jobs, while Vaggie and Charlie scrutinized Cherri, ready to intervene if necessary.

Determined to prove her strength, Cherri made it through the first 30 minutes without a hitch, so much so that she began to suspect that Lucifer was bluffing. After half an hour, however, she began to feel the eyelids of one of her eyes grow heavy. It was nothing she had not endured before, but the pills were clearly beginning to take effect.

By the stroke of the first hour, the fight against sleep had become an uphill battle: her eye was crisscrossed with red veins and her lower eyelid throbbed uncomfortably. But Cherri did not give up, determined to stay awake.

After another ten minutes, she began pinching and slapping herself to keep from giving up, much to the concern of the others present. At one point, even the pain could not keep her awake. She stood up from her chair with a firm gesture and declared: «I'm going to make some coffee, you do whatever you want!» To her surprise, none of the other three tried to stop her, but she didn't realize that the door she was about to walk through wasn't supposed to exist.

Crossing the threshold, she found herself in a vast, bright white atrium, almost ethereal, as if she had entered heaven. Looking around, she realized with a surge of anger that she had failed the first step: she had not earned the "extra point" Lucifer had promised. She had fallen asleep, and this place was nothing but a dream.

Trying to keep calm, she forced herself not to give in to frustration: throwing bombs would not solve anything. She had to remind herself that this was all a dream and find a way to wake up.

«Think, Cherri, what do people do to wake up from a dream?» she muttered to herself, trying to think straight.

Before she could come up with a plan, a hissing voice behind her made her heart jump. A voice she would have recognized anywhere: «Miss Bomb?»

She turned her head to see Sir Pentious, alive and well, watching her with a worried look. «Are you all right, dear?» he asked her, the tone of his voice full of concern.

Cherri froze, unable to respond. A few tears slipped from one eye, her muscles tensed. With an incredulous edge to her voice, she whispered: «Pentious?»

Sir Pentious approached quickly and cupped her face in his hands. «Miss Cherri Bomb, what is it? Why are you crying? Did Angel scold you for breaking the spaghetti?»

The contact on her skin made her give in. Cherri let out a liberating wail and clung to Sir Pentious in a desperate hug. «You're an idiot! How could you think that balloon could kill Adam?» she sobbed.

«My dear, I don't understand what you're talking about!» replied Sir Pentious confusedly, returning the hug.

Cherri didn't want to explain, she just wanted to relive for a moment the contact that had been so brutally ripped from her. She planted a kiss on his lips, cutting off any attempt to speak. For a moment, reality seemed to dissolve as she lost herself in that familiar yet distant feeling. Despite his initial reluctance, Sir Pentious responded to the kiss, restoring the intimacy she had longed for.

It was a wonderful feeling, as if time had stopped, giving her one last chance to experience what she had never been able to have. To feel him close again, as if she had returned to a time when everything could have been different, filled her heart with a warm, sweet regret. But as she parted from this longed-for contact, the realization hit her like a bolt of lightning: he was not real. He was just a dream, an illusion created by the pills she had taken.

Trying to gather all her strength, Cherri squeezed Sir Pentious one last time, trying to remember every detail of that moment, every nuance of his embrace. Her voice, cracked with emotion but firm in determination, rose softly: «I wish I had known you better, given you a real chance. Maybe sit together, sip two spiked coffees, laugh at our little follies... But fate wouldn't let us. Believe me, I wish with all my heart to stay here, in this dream, next to you. But there are things I have to do in the real world, important missions that I cannot ignore. I can't stay, even if I want to.»

With one last look, full of sadness and resignation, Cherri slowly walked away from him, aware that she had to leave this bittersweet dream to face the harsh reality that awaited her. She felt her heart break as Sir Pentious' voice, full of pain and longing, begged her to stay. But Cherri didn't turn back. Instead, she began to run as the light around her grew brighter and brighter. And suddenly, she jerked awake, gasping and desperately searching for air in her lungs.

Around her, the other three were still there, all amazed at the incredible willpower Cherri had shown. Charlie, always ready to encourage, was the first to break the silence with her usual overwhelming enthusiasm: «You made it! I'm so proud of you!»

Cherri, still dazed and her eyes struggling to adjust to the real light, asked confusedly: «Did I really make it?»

Lucifer, the most surprised of all, consulted his pocket watch and nodded with a mixture of admiration and astonishment. «Yes.» he confirmed «You fell asleep, it's true, but you woke up half an hour before the maximum time. I must admit that I underestimated you. Maybe you really do have the strength to survive the Sloth Ring.»

Cherri, trying to compose herself and regain control, asked determinedly: «Now what? You cast the spell, give me special permission, and we can go?»

Lucifer shrugged, a hint of respect in his eyes. «A promise is a promise.» he said, finally acknowledging the girl's courage and determination.

–

Lucifer carefully handed the scroll to Charlie, giving her the riddle to show Belphegor.

«Dad, when you get better, I will take you with me, I promise.» Charlie said, trying to give him courage with her gentle smile.

A sad smile crossed Lucifer's face. «Thank you, Char Char. But I just need to...decompress. It's not easy to go from complete isolation to sudden involvement.» he admitted, his voice betraying deep fatigue and a slight hint of shame. His eyes were glazed with weariness and a melancholy that Charlie could sense.

Charlie nodded, accepting his words with understanding, though a veil of sadness clouded her gaze. She carefully placed the parchment back in her bag, then turned to Vaggie. «Vaggie, could you get my phone and see if Belphegor answered the message?»

Vaggie, ever vigilant, grabbed the phone from the nearby cabinet and checked the messages. «Miraculously ... yes! He says he's expecting us and that we can come whenever we want. It seems strange though...» she replied with a raised eyebrow, suspicious of this unusual punctuality.

Charlie shrugged. «Nah, it's better like this.» she replied, trying to maintain a relaxed tone. Then she turned to Cherri Bomb, who was watching the scene with a confident expression. «Do you have your permit ready, Cherri?»

«Even better.» Cherri replied with a mischievous smile, tilting her head to show the permit, which had taken the form of an earring, an item that would grant her access to the Sloth Ring. It was a dangling earring, composed of several overlapping circles, from which several pins extended outward.

«Perfect. We're ready, Dad.» Charlie said, looking at her father with a mixture of determination and affection.

Lucifer, with a look that revealed all of his concern and vulnerability, snapped his fingers and a portal opened in front of them.

On the other side, the Sloth Ring was revealed in all its tired opulence: the entire environment was bathed in a pink and purple light, as if the world were filtered through a lens of sloth. The city, with its towering buildings, was adorned with huge billboards advertising care services and luxury brands, exuding an atmosphere of lazy decadence.

Charlie took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself for the journey. She felt the importance of the mission, the responsibility that rested on her shoulders, and she knew she had to be strong for herself and for those who counted on her.

In an unexpected gesture, Lucifer approached his daughter and pulled her into a warm embrace, letting all his concern and affection shine through for a moment. «Good luck, Charlie.» he murmured, his voice full of emotion.

Charlie returned the hug strongly, feeling her father's warmth and protection wrap around her like a blanket. «Thank you, Dad.» she replied, letting those simple words encapsulate all of her love.

With one last look of understanding, Charlie walked through the portal, followed by Vaggie and Cherri Bomb. The Pride Ring disappeared behind them, replaced by the opulent languor of the Sloth Ring, where their mission was about to begin.

As soon as they set foot on the other side of the portal, the effect of the ring was immediately felt. Their eyes grew heavy, as if covered by an invisible veil, and an aura of drowsiness and apathy enveloped all three of them, inviting them to give in to the temptation to lie down on the ground and take a nap by the side of the road. It was Cherri, with surprising energy, who shook them out of their torpor, forcing them (and forcing herself) to move determinedly toward the archive.

The city around them seemed active, full of life and movement, but there was something strangely eerie about it. The inhabitants moved slowly, distracted and apathetic, as if every step was an unbearable burden. People shuffled reluctantly to their tasks, immersed in an atmosphere of latent depression. Those who could delegated every task, from walking to shopping, to machines, entrusting even the most mundane decisions to advanced technologies. But despite the unbridled luxury and state-of-the-art technology, the environment was permeated with a sense of desolation, as if an invisible, dense, suffocating fog enveloped everything. It was the oppressive humidity of an endless summer, the kind that makes you sweat even when you stand still.

Ignoring the oppressive atmosphere around them, the three adventure buddies walked briskly, Charlie in front and Cherri right behind her, constantly urging the other two to stay active, trying not to be infected by the slowness of the people around them. Charlie led the trio to a property that looked lower and older than the luxury skyscrapers that dominated the landscape. The building, a long, arched wooden structure, had been painted white and silver to blend in with the surrounding buildings. At the front, a human-sized doorway was framed by a high relief depicting Belphegor. The arch-demon of sloth was depicted as an anthropomorphic dragon whose body was covered with long keratin filaments resembling feathers or hair. A long, smooth beard hung from its reptilian snout, giving the figure a solemn and mysterious appearance.

Despite Belphegor's relatively peaceful nature, this image had an aura of eeriness, like a dark cave with no visible bottom. Even Charlie, who had faced the Arch-Demon before, felt a shiver of fear as he stared at this relief.

Sensing her fiancée's discomfort, Vaggie took her hand and shook it lovingly. «I'm here, love. Right behind you.» Vaggie's reassurance gave her the strength to continue. Charlie returned the squeeze and gave her a look of gratitude before summoning the courage to knock on the door.

«The door is open!» answered a voice from inside, deep and enveloping.

Charlie paused for a moment, exchanging glances with Vaggie and Cherri. The latter gave her an encouraging nod, urging her to move forward. With her heart pounding in her chest, Charlie grabbed the handle and entered the archive.

The interior of the building was surprisingly large, much larger than it appeared from the outside. The archive was a vast expanse of shelves filled with articles, documents, books, and all sorts of objects that collected knowledge and news of all kinds. The atmosphere was almost sacred, charged with the weight of knowledge accumulated over centuries.

Belphegor, whose figure bore a striking resemblance to the one on the portal, moved frantically among the shelves, his robes swirling around his form. Despite his lazy nature, the demon seemed particularly active at this moment, organizing documents, retrieving others, and transcribing everything he found handwritten on an old computer. The contrast between his imposing appearance and his frenetic activity was oddly fascinating, but also a little unsettling.

Charlie paused for a moment, struck by the sight of the archive and the demon's unexpected energy.

«Welcome, Princess!» exclaimed Arch-demon Belphegor, not looking up from his frenzied work. «I ask for your infinite forgiveness if I don't make eye contact with you, and if I'm not exactly the most impeccable host, but you've caught me at the only time of day I'm active, and I have a ton of things to do at once. But please, be my guest!» With a wave of his clawed hand, three chairs and a table appeared behind the Arch-demon. Soon after, a porcelain teapot decorated with delicate floral motifs, three matching cups, and a selection of sweets and appetizers served on an elegant multi-tiered tray also appeared on the table.

«Tributes from Beelzebub.» Beelphegor added, not slowing the pace at which he tapped the keys of the keyboard.

The three women sat down at the table with some hesitation, watching the scene with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. When Belphegor sensed that they had settled down and continued typing without turning around, he asked: «So, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?»

Charlie found herself in a moment of hesitation, unsure if she should speak up and interrupt her work. She remained silent for a few moments, torn between the desire not to interrupt and the need to explain the reason for her presence.

Belphegor insisted in a reassuring tone: «Don't worry, go ahead and speak as if I were making eye contact with you. I know it's not customary to talk behind someone's back, but we have no choice. If you wait for me to finish, we might be here until the end of time - or worse, until the next dawn of time. And please eat something. I made sure to add a little invention of mine to the ingredients: the "wake-up pill". It should lessen the effects of my ring.»

At the mention of this detail, Vaggie and Cherri wasted no time in throwing themselves at the snacks, desperately trying to regain some of the lucidity that had been put to the test as soon as they set foot in the Sloth Ring. Charlie miraculously managed to retrieve a small sandwich before they ran out of everything, ate it, and immediately felt a surge of energy and mental clarity.

Taking advantage of her newfound lucidity, Charlie finally found the courage to address the Arch-demon, albeit cautiously: «Belphegor, we are here because I found a crypt beneath the Heaven's Embassy. It contains a riddle that seems impossible to solve, and I was hoping that we might find some information here that would help us. Maybe it's recorded somewhere in the embassy's construction records.»

At the sound of these words, Belphegor froze. For a moment he seemed petrified, as if in shock. Then, in a tone charged with unusual glee, he finally turned to Charlie, revealing a smile that betrayed a rare enthusiasm: «Oh, at last, something worth focusing my energies on. So you've discovered the Heaven's Telephone, eh? Very good, finally something interesting!»

Charlie was surprised, almost stunned: «How did you...?» She interrupted herself, trying to hide her surprise. «Telephone? What telephone are you talking about?»

Belphegor smiled mischievously. «Darling, there's no need to hide information. I already know everything. In fact, every single Arch-demon in Hell knows about this phone. Each of us has contributed in one way or another to the construction of the Embassy and its secrets. We know about the crypt, the riddle, and, of course, the phone. You can be completely honest with us.»

Charlie relaxed slightly, even though Belphegor's revelations had raised more questions than answers. She knew now that she was in a much bigger game than she had imagined.

«All right.» she said in a calm voice, even though a thousand emotions were boiling inside her, «Then I would like to know why you helped build the embassy, and more importantly, why no one told me about it.»

Belphegor snorted annoyingly, snapping his tongue: «Ah, your father didn't tell you the whole story, huh? It was to be expected. He never fully recovered from the fall, anyway. It's up to me to explain, I guess.» He paused, as if he was pondering what to tell.

Cherri Bomb, who had been chewing noisily on snacks, intervened with her mouth full: «But make it short, huh? We don't want to stay here any longer than necessary.»

Belphegor gave her an icy look, obviously annoyed by her arrogance. «All right, I'll be quick.» he said, containing his own irritation. «After Lucifer was punished for giving humans the ability to discern between good and evil, and for allowing Roo to enter the earthly world, I and five other seraphim protested strongly against the decision, hoping to have our brother returned to Heaven. But instead of being heard, we too were cast out. We were destined to become Virtues, but we found ourselves demoted to Vices.»

Belphegor paused for a moment, his golden eyes glowing with ancient memories. «At that time, Hellborn and sinners roamed freely through Hell, creating chaos beyond description. Thanks to Lilith, we were able to make the place a little more livable. But there was another problem: Roo. Not satisfied with being able to roam freely on Earth, she continued to destroy everything we tried to build. So the other Archdemons and I joined forces to trap her in the depths of Hell, imprisoning her in the void. I myself decided to stay at the lowest point to make sure she remained dormant. The bitch is asleep because of me, so be gentle.»

Cherri huffed, but said nothing.

As he spoke, the Arch-demon gestured with his clawed hands to emphasize his words. «With order restored, Heaven became alarmed and organized the Extermination. Then the three Archangels - Michael, Gabriel, and Uriel - came down from Heaven to ask us to build the Embassy, promising that our people would be safe. They wanted us to design a secret crypt containing a riddle that only a Nephilim, a creature born of the union of an angel and a human, could access and use to communicate directly with Heaven when the Extermination was no longer an acceptable option.»

An icy silence fell over the room. Vaggie and Cherri looked at Charlie with wide eyes as the princess' face grew paler and paler. She realized that everything had been designed for her. Her father, Lucifer, was a fallen angel; her mother, Lilith, a human. She was the Nephilim Belphegor spoke of. The realization washed over her like a wave.

With a slightly shaky voice, Charlie asked: «Why didn't my father know about this?»

Belphegor gave her an understanding look. «Because we never told him. In fact, if Lucifer had tried to enter the crypt, a mechanism would have been activated to eliminate him. This crypt was designed to be accessible only to you.»

Vaggie intervened vehemently: «That is not true! Charlie entered the crypt with me and Lucifer, and no trap was triggered. We are all alive and well!»

The Arch-demon looked at her in disbelief. «Really? But... that doesn't make sense! The traps were set, I saw it with my own eyes. If Lucifer went in there and came out unharmed... something doesn't add up. If he had died, I would have definitely felt it. But since I haven't felt any sudden pain in my chest lately, I guess he's still with us. But how is that possible?»

«If you don't know, who does, you big sleeping dragon?» Cherri blurted out sarcastically.

Charlie gave her friend a dirty look, but Belphegor seemed too deep in thought to register the insult. «Tell me exactly what happened when you entered the crypt.» he asked intently.

Vaggie described her experience in detail: the descent into the crypt, the ornate tunnel, the magical lights, and the stone altar they had found at the end.

Belphegor nodded, following the story carefully. «And then? Charlie touched the altar and the idols appeared, right?»

«Actually, it was Lucifer. He found a tiny button on the front of the altar and pressed it. Only then did the idols reveal themselves.» Vaggie pointed out.

The Arch-demon shook his head in confusion. «That doesn't make any sense! Just touching the altar should have activated the death traps for everyone but Charlie. What really happened here...?»

Without wasting any time, Belphegor turned back to his computer, typing rapidly and consulting a series of ancient documents. As he read, his expression changed from surprise to astonishment to an incredulous laugh that echoed through the archive.

«Well, if it isn't that rascal! He was always saying, "Ah, it's okay, I'll do it!", "Go ahead and take a break, I'll do it myself." That's why he wanted to be alone with the traps! Adorable bastard!» Belphegor shouted loudly, catching the attention of Charlie, who had just recovered.

«Who?» she asked, confused.

Belphegor smiled mischievously. «None other than your uncle, Archangel Michael! He sabotaged every single trap and gave Lucifer access to the phone. Someone wants his brother home, apparently...»

Charlie was stunned by this revelation as the Arch-demon continued in a more serious tone. «In any case, Princess, don't make the mistake of thinking that your role is limited to finding a crypt and deciphering its secrets. You are the bridge between the human and the otherworldly worlds. A Nephilim raised in hell, a being who defies the natural order of things. We who built the Embassy know your destiny well. You may not hear this often, but... you are doing the right thing. And you are doing it magnificently.»

Charlie's eyes filled with tears as she finally felt the weight and importance of her mission recognized. Those words were everything she had ever wanted to hear.

«Anyway...» the Arch-Demon continued in a tone that reflected his usual seriousness «...for reasons you can imagine, I cannot reveal the identities of the three idols to you directly. However, I can help you shorten your path to the solution. The questions you must ask the idols must be extremely specific. It is important that you leave no room for misunderstanding, so that no matter which idol you approach, you will be able to deduce who you are dealing with.»

Charlie listened intently as Belphegor continued with a practical example. «Suppose you ask the idol on the left, "Would you answer 'yes' if I asked you if the idol in the middle is Lie?" If the idol you are questioning is Truth, it will answer truthfully. In that case, if 'yes' means yes, the answer will be in accordance with truth. If, on the other hand, it is Lies, it will answer you the opposite of what it would normally say. And if it's Random, the answer could be anything, but that's not an insurmountable problem, because there are ways to deal with that, too.»

Belphegor paused, watching the expressions of the three women carefully to make sure they were following the reasoning. «After you get an answer, turn to another idol and ask them what 'yes' or 'da' means, making sure their answer is a yes or no. The third question will be crucial in determining the exact identity of each idol, but you will have to figure it out for yourself. This is the key to solving the riddle. I hope I have been of great help to you in your search.»

Cherri blurted out, with a puzzled expression and a tone of frustration: «I'm more confused than ever.»

Belphegor gave her a patient smile with a hint of irony: «Do not worry, riddles that hide great truths are never simple. But with a little patience, all will be revealed.»

Charlie, feeling the weight of responsibility, struggled to assimilate the information: «I think we got what we needed. Thank you, Belphegor.»

«You are welcome, Your Highness. Now, forgive my bluntness, but I must ask you to leave the archives. My active time is coming to an end, and I still have much to transcribe. Paper does not last forever, you know.»

Understanding, the three women got up from the table and headed for the exit.

«Thank you again.» Charlie said before leaving the archive.

«I wish you the best of luck, Your Highness. And please give your father a slap on the wrist for me.»

Charlie laughed at the joke and walked out.

As soon as the door closed behind her, the ground beneath Belphegor's feet began to vibrate rhythmically, and a dark shadow fell across the Arch-demon's face. With determined steps, he made his way to a large lever on the side of the archive. When he reached it, he pulled it down, and a cloud of purple smoke spread across the floor, stopping the vibrations.

«Go back to sleep, you.» Belphegor growled in a low, threatening voice. «You will never have the Nephilim, not now, not ever.»

–The same day

Eddie had never been the type to spend hours in the library. Even when he was alive, he preferred exercise to long study sessions. In school, he did the bare minimum to avoid flunking out, devoting most of his time to cultivating other skills. Only one thing he had studied in depth: the Norse religion, to which he had devoted himself since discovering he was gay. If life had taken a different turn, he probably would have gotten an athletic scholarship and enrolled in some college. But now, in this corner of hell, things had changed drastically.

The reason for his sudden interest in the library was the riddle he had encountered at the Celestial Embassy. The stakes were high: if he really needed to ask a grace seraphim for a favor, and considering that the communication channels with Heaven were temporarily closed, he had to find a way to access the mysterious telephone. Eddie hoped that the riddle had been suggested somewhere in the past, so he immersed himself in reading dozens of books on riddles, desperately searching for a clue, a starting point. But unfortunately, he found nothing useful. To make matters worse, his bracelet, which sometimes seemed to have a mind of its own, offered no help.

On the other side of the table, Molly was immersed in her studies. She delved into the history and origins of Hell's creation, an area where many theories were mere speculation, impossible to verify. She, too, was searching for answers, albeit on a different subject.

At one point she looked up from her book and said: «Listen to this. There is a theory that Elohim, also called El, and Asherah were brother and sister, and their powers were balanced. But then Asherah became greedy and envious of El, and to keep her from destroying everything, El had to lock her up in a separate dimension. There, Asherah consumed everything she saw and became Roo, the root of all evil, thus creating Hell.»

Eddie, his mind still focused on his research, replied distractedly: «That's really interesting, honey, but I'm a little busy right now.»

Molly, intrigued by her brother's behavior, approached. She noticed the stack of puzzle books next to him, an image she would never associate with Eddie. She had always known that her brother preferred action to reflection, and puzzles had never been his thing.

«Eddie, what are you up to?» asked Molly with a hint of curiosity.

Eddie stiffened when he heard his real name: «You have to call me Headshot in public!» he scolded her in a stern tone.

Molly remained impassive. «There's no one here, we're not risking anything.» she replied calmly. Then she added in a friendlier tone «Anyway, do you want to explain what's going on?»

Eddie glanced down at the books piled beside him, then met Molly's gaze. With a deep sigh, he gave up and began to explain: «Yesterday I went to the Heavenly Embassy with Charlie, Vaggie and Lucifer. We were faced with a riddle that drove us crazy for hours. We tried to find a solution, but it was useless. Now I'm here, studying like I've never studied before, hoping to find an answer.»

Molly listened carefully, then said with an understanding smile: «What's the riddle? Maybe I can help you.»

Eddie gave her a bitter smile and shook his head: «It's too complex, honey. You can't do it.»

Molly was undeterred. «At least let me try.» she insisted.

Eddie, somewhat reluctantly, decided to accommodate her. With another sigh, he explained the whole riddle, which was eloquent and complicated. As he spoke, he saw Molly's face change from focused to visibly confused. In the end, all she could say was: «Can you repeat that again?»

Eddie couldn't help but laugh a little at Molly's reaction. «I told you it was complicated.» he said, but there was a more affectionate tone in his voice.

Molly tried to hide her disappointment with a shrug, then said: «Look, I'll tell you what: will you text it to me and send it to me? Maybe I can find a book on it or a solution online.»

Eddie nodded, pulled out his phone and started typing: «All right. The more the merrier.»

As Eddie typed, Molly asked him a question that had been bothering her for a while: «Excuse me, but... didn't your bracelet help?»

Eddie cast a frustrated glance at the Deus Ex Machina he wore on his wrist and blurted out: «This little shit decided to mind its own business. I made a fool of myself trying to get him to work, but he didn't make a move. It seems his motto is "Get through, you losers".»

Molly nodded with a resigned expression. «I guess it always was.» she said, taking Eddie's hand where the bracelet was. She brushed her fingers gently over the object, bringing back a painful memory. «If you knew how many times I prayed to be taken off the plantation... When I came home from work, I would kneel beside my bunk, hands together, and pray until I fell asleep. I had calluses on my knees. On Sundays, my only day off, I would spend it in church. I would pray and pray and pray, hoping someone would listen. The pastor complimented me on my devotion and urged me to continue, saying that sooner or later I would be heard, and reminding me that God would hear me better if I made a donation. I believed him and gave what little I had to the church, but it was no use. I had time to die before I saw that prayer answered.» she concluded bitterly as a silent tear rolled down her cheek.

Eddie, deeply touched by his sister's words, felt tears in his eyes as well. With his free arm, he took her in a hug, holding her close and stroking her hair, trying to comfort her. But inside, he felt a swirl of emotions: frustration, disappointment, and anger. He thought of the years of poverty, misery and slavery that Molly had endured in her life, guilty only of being born in the wrong place. He thought of the greedy minister who had deceived her and taken advantage of her desperation. And he thought of himself, how he had been scarred by a family and a context that had condemned him to suffer from the start. The years he had spent hiding his sexual orientation, trying to conform to what society expected of him, had left him deeply wounded. The trauma that haunted him even after his death surrounded him like a looming shadow, a scar that would never fully heal.

With tears stinging his eyes, Eddie planted a kiss in Molly's hair amidst the leaves that enveloped her body. He quoted a phrase in a bitter tone: «If there is a God, he will have to ask for my forgiveness.»

Molly did not recognize the quote, but she felt the weight of those words and the fear they carried. A sigh escaped her, but she stayed close to her brother, aware that at that moment they both needed that comfort from each other more than any answer or solution.

The siblings remained in each other's arms for a while, only to separate when they felt they had recovered from their inner turmoil.

Molly took a few books from Eddie's pile and sat down again, abandoning those that dealt with creation theories: «Well, we might as well start looking for a solution to the mystery. You need someone who has a lot of free time and likes to read. That would be me!» she said with a mischievous smile and dove right into the reading.

Eddie, his elbow propped up on the table and his hand resting on his face, watched his sister. As she got lost in the pages, he realized once again how precious this little girl was and how lucky he was to have found her in spite of everything. The thought struck him like a razor blade: he really had found her, like finding an abandoned cat in a garbage can.

It was an ordinary evening, and Eddie was on his way home after finishing a job and collecting his paycheck. With so much cash on him, he knew he would attract the attention of thieves. In a place like Hell, where pickpocketing was an art to get money, drugs, or anything else of value, Eddie was on extreme alert, ready to shoot at the slightest sign of danger.

As he passed an alley, he heard a clanging sound that made him instinctively draw his gun and point it in the direction of the sound. That's when he saw her: a skinny, emaciated little girl who had gotten to her feet after dropping a garbage can. When she saw him with the gun in his hand, she began to cry, raising her hands in surrender and begging him not to kill her. She was just looking for food.

Eddie felt a twinge of emotion, but did not immediately let his guard down. Suspecting a trap, he asked her where the rest of her gang was, but she replied that she was alone and had been in Hell for just over a month. With his sense of smell alert, Eddie looked for signs of lying or other kids hiding nearby, but there were none. Molly was honest, and he could sense that she was the only presence there.

Only then did he lower his gun and try to reassure her, inviting her to follow him. Probably Molly's naivety and desperation made her vulnerable and inclined to trust him immediately. Eddie realized that it was a miracle that he had been the one to find her and not an Overlord.

He took her to eat at a ramen stand, where Molly devoured four cups of broth and noodles, so hungry was she. From then on, he took her into his home, and from then on, she had become his sister.

He shook his head, trying to push away the bittersweet memory. «Honey, I'm going to take a walk and relax.» Eddie said to Molly as he got up from his chair. «You remember what to do in case of trouble?»

Without taking her eyes off the book, Molly replied with the confidence of someone who had repeated this lesson many times: «I scream loudly and aim for the genitals. If that doesn't work, I hit the solar plexus, temple, eyes, or throat.»

Eddie smiled, amused and proud at the same time. He tousled her hair affectionately in a reassuring gesture. «That's my girl.» he said, leaving a gentle caress on her head before walking away.

As he left the library, Eddie had no idea that an eerie and very familiar shadow was following him.

–

Eddie was not only training his body, he was also perfecting his aim. With Charlie's permission, he had managed to set up a small shooting range near Adam's cell, a shelter that finally included stairs to avoid triggering his claustrophobia. The surroundings were modest, but sufficient for him. The range had several shooting stations, each dedicated to one of Eddie's favorite weapons: handguns, rifles, and, of course, his trusty sniper rifle, which he always kept meticulously clean and in working order.

In front of the shooting range, some distance away, were several targets, all marked with shots from previous training sessions. Eddie took up his position and began to fire, one after another, each shot a burst of power that filled the air with sound and the acrid smell of gunpowder. These were now familiar smells to him, reassuring as an old habit would be. Each shot was an affirmation of control, each target hit a small victory. In those moments, everything came down to him and his weapon: there were no complicated puzzles to solve, no worries about how to help Angel, or questions about why the Deus Ex Machina had chosen him. There was only the bang-bang of the gun and the muffled sound of bullets hitting paper and cardboard targets.

Chest, heart, head. Each shot was exactly where Eddie wanted it to be. But this moment of solitude and concentration was interrupted by a lone clap behind him. Eddie turned sharply, pointing his gun at the source of the noise, only to see Alastor, the radio demon, watching him with his usual creepy smile, clapping his hands as if he were watching a show.

«Excellent aim, truly remarkable.» Alastor said in his usual mellifluous tone. «Someone, possibly an inferior mind, might even find you intimidating.»

Eddie, loosening his grip on the gun slightly but still remaining alert, returned the weapon to the targets and continued firing. «What are you doing here, Alastor? Tired of torturing my sister?» he asked between shots, his tone distant, as if the demon did not deserve his full attention.

Alastor made a sound that seemed to downplay the seriousness of his actions. «Torture? Oh, dear, I prefer to call it watching. Watching over a small, innocent girl in a vast and cruel hell. After all... you of all people should know how much a distraction can cost, or how helpful it can be in preventing a tragedy.»

Eddie did not respond, concentrating on the targets. He continued firing, letting the sound of gunfire fill the space between his words and Alastor's, as if to emphasize his determination not to be distracted.

Alastor approached slowly, his piercing gaze fixed on Eddie. «You know, I've been wondering for a while. You're a pretty skilled killer. I've been watching you, you know? Your accuracy is impressive. I was wondering, though...have you ever had a job you couldn't complete?»

Eddie's heart was pounding, but he tried to maintain an unflappable facade. «None that I can think of.» he replied coolly, but Alastor sensed the slight tension in his voice.

The radio demon smiled smugly. «Interesting.» he continued in a vaguely threatening tone «You know, about forty years ago, while I was walking quietly, a bullet brushed against my head. I reacted immediately, and whoever the shooter was, I scared him enough to make him stop, but unfortunately I never caught him. And as much as I love mysteries, I always prefer to solve them. Have you ever been involved in anything like this, Headshot?» Alastor emphasized the name in an accusatory tone, as if to point the finger at him.

Eddie slowly turned around, trying to maintain his icy calm despite the pounding in his chest. «Nobody's stupid enough to try and kill the radio demon. If anyone tried, they were either an arrogant fool or a desperate amateur. And I am neither.»

Alastor continued to watch him with a smile that clearly indicated he did not believe his words. The young assassin was good at hiding his secrets, but not good enough to completely fool the Radio Demon. There was something deeper, a secret that Eddie protected with all his might.

«I have a proposition for you.» Alastor said, looking carelessly at his fingernails. «Let's make a deal...»

«Ah! Do you really think I'm that stupid? No Overlord has ever taken my soul, and you certainly won't, Alastor!» Eddie interrupted him sharply, trying to keep control of the situation.

«I don't want your soul, dear.» Alastor replied with a smile that did not bode well. «It's a simple ... let's call it an exchange of favors between allies! You help me find out who tried to rid Hell of my presence, and I will help you and your beloved sister solve that very complicated puzzle that keeps you so busy!»

Eddie stiffened and felt a cold shiver run down his spine. What the riddle was, or how difficult it was, had not yet been revealed to the others; if Alastor knew, it meant he had been spying on them, perhaps in the library. What if he had also learned his real name? The thought paralyzed him for a moment. If he had asked, he might have given himself away. But if he did not ask, he would give Alastor the advantage. He decided the best strategy was to feign indifference and accept the deal with a mask of nonchalance.

«Fine, but only because this riddle is complicated.» Eddie replied, maintaining a tone meant to sound distracted.

«Wonderful!» exclaimed Alastor, bouncing his staff in a theatrical gesture and catching it on the fly. «Then I'm counting on you, my dear Headshot!» he repeated, once more mentioning the nickname before chuckling and leaving.

Once Alastor was out of sight, Eddie fired wildly at the targets, making sure the shots covered his howl of frustration, cursing all the Norse gods. He had just lied shamelessly to protect himself and, more importantly, his sister. The thought of what Alastor might do if he found out the truth terrified him.

Upon arriving in Hell, Eddie felt alone and lost, not knowing how to survive in such a ruthless place. He soon realized that in this brutal world, everyone had to fend for themselves, so he began taking odd jobs to make ends meet. However, earnings were scarce, and not wanting to be tied to an Overlord, he was forced to steal. One day, however, his inexperienced hand ended up in the wrong pocket, that of a demon much bigger and faster than himself. Eddie felt his heart stop as the man grabbed his wrist with a menacing air.

The demon was tall and massive, with a slightly hunched posture and scars running across his body and face, one of which had blinded his eye. Broken horns and brownish skin completed an already intimidating appearance. He wore practical clothes and a brooch with a strange symbol: a hooded man holding a dagger and a rose. His calloused hands blocked Eddie's hand before he could pull out anything to steal. The young man feared the worst, but after a long, intense silence, the demon, who introduced himself as Bruce, decided not to punish him. Instead, in an almost fatherly tone, he told him that he was wasting his afterlife.

Bruce, head of a guild of assassins, took him into his ranks and taught him the art of contract killing, calling him "Headshot". It was he who advised him to keep his real name hidden, never to reveal it to anyone, not even a friend or significant other. For Eddie, Bruce became more than a mentor; he was the one who saved him from a life of misery and despair.

One day, however, an anonymous client hired the Guild to eliminate Alastor. While the other wise and experienced assassins refused this suicide mission, Eddie, young and eager to prove himself, accepted. But the attempt was a disaster: he managed to graze Alastor's head with a bullet before fleeing for his life. Now, as Alastor began to grow suspicious, Eddie knew that the truth could destroy everything he had built. If this secret came out, not only would his life be in danger, but so would his sister's. He had to find a way to keep that past buried, or everything he had worked so hard to achieve would come crashing down.

He had no choice but to do the impossible.

He put his weapons back in their sheaths and made his way to his room. He dressed carefully, preparing himself as if he were about to embark on a dangerous mission. He carried two pistols, a stinger, and three combat knives, one of which was made of angelic steel, in case he had to face someone in hand-to-hand combat. Though he was well armed, he made sure the weapons were well concealed so as not to draw unwanted attention.

After making sure that no one needed him that day, Eddie left the hotel and walked briskly toward an old acquaintance.

On the edge of the Apocalypse District, a forgotten and dangerous area, stood a semi-abandoned building that could barely withstand the constant vibrations and backlash that shook the desolate area. Many of its windows were now glassless, reduced to mere black holes in a building that seemed on the verge of collapse. It was inhabited by violent, ruthless demons looking for an excuse to wreak havoc: soldiers killed in battle, would-be overlords, and former serial killers roamed the streets like children on a playground, throwing bombs, stabbing, and shooting for no apparent reason.

As he approached the building, Eddie had to dodge several ambushes, both in the air and on the ground. Armed with his keen sense of smell and years of experience, the other demons' attempts to harm him were child's play. Bored with the inefficiency and inexperience of these attackers, he continued on his way until he was in front of the building.

At the corner of the building, he noticed a soldier in a World War II German officer's uniform. The man, now completely insane, was erratically raising and lowering his rifle and repeating the same meaningless phrase. Eddie wondered how he had survived so long, considering that his mind had long since been lost. He wondered if anyone had ever told him that the war had been over for decades and that their leader had committed suicide.

Ignoring the delusional soldier, Eddie made his way into the building. He climbed two flights of stairs and found himself in front of an anonymous door at the end of a dark hallway. He knocked in code, making sure he was recognized from the inside. The door barely opened to reveal Bruce's one functioning eye peering intently through the opening. Recognizing his old student, Bruce closed the door for a moment and, after a long sequence of sounds of chains and padlocks being unlocked, threw it wide open to reveal his imposing figure, a little more relaxed.

«Headshot! It's always a pleasure to see you again, but I guess yours is not a pleasure visit.» Bruce said, his deep, cavernous voice echoing in the silence of the hallway.

Eddie tilted his head slightly in a sign of respect. "Bruce." He greeted him with a slight reverence. «Unfortunately, you're right. I gave up being a hitman for a good reason, but I can't discuss it here in the hallway. May I come in?»

Bruce stepped aside and let Eddie enter alone, closing the door behind him.

Bruce's house was meticulously neat and minimalist, every object had its function and place. There was not a speck of dust on the surfaces, and hanging on one wall was a daily calendar filled with household obligations that Bruce obviously followed rigorously.

«Have a seat, Headshot.» Bruce invited him, pointing to the clean, wrinkle-free sofa as if it had just been purchased: «Can I offer you something? I don't have many sweets in the house, but there are sodas. I might have some lemonade.»

Bruce had always been very kind to him since he had caught him in the act. He had realized before that his new demonic appearance also reflected what he needed to be well: before Bruce had advised him to eat as much sugar as possible, Eddie had often been lethargic, and he did not understand why.

«I'm fine for now.» Eddie replied, politely declining the offer.

Eddie got right to the point: «There's a reason I'm here. Like I said, I quit my business. And I did it because - you know I have a sister now, right? Well, after the destruction was canceled, I took her to the Hazbin Hotel. I wanted to leave her there safely and leave, but there was a mishap; someone attacked the hotel. I stayed to help; I couldn't just pretend nothing had happened.»

Bruce chuckled as he poured himself a cup of tea: «You were always a softie. Sometimes I wondered if this job was for you.»

Eddie shrugged: «It was better than ending up in the clutches of an Overlord. Anyway... unfortunately... I got Alastor's attention.»

Bruce sighed, stiffening at the news. Sitting down, cup of tea in hand, he asked: «Did he recognize you?»

«No, but he must have known something right away. Because he said he was interested and hinted that he would keep an eye on me. And he got my sister involved.»

Bruce made a sound in his throat, like someone worried and sad about the fate of his student, and put a hand to his face. «How much does he know?» he asked.

«Nothing yet, but just today he let me know that he suspects something. I don't care about my well-being, but I have to keep my sister safe.»

Putting the cup down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, Bruce scolded him: «I told you to leave that little girl in the orphanage.»

«Uh, yeah, to risk getting into the clutches of some pedophile, maybe.» Eddie replied, stonewalling.

«Like I said, you're too soft-hearted.» Bruce stood up and walked over to a filing cabinet in the corner of the room: «Lucky for you, I still have all the records of the Guild when it was still around.»

He opened the cabinet and meticulously scanned each card, searching for the document that documented the mission and its failure. It took him a few minutes to find it, old and yellowed, and he handed it to Eddie.

Eddie opened the document to make sure everything was in order: the request, the photos, the information. Without hesitation, he walked to the sink, determined to do what was necessary. Bruce watched him in silence, letting him act. Eddie pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the document, watching as the flames slowly consumed it in the steel sink.

«You made the right choice, kid.» Bruce said, seemingly oblivious to the smoke that began to fill the room.

Eddie watched the last pages burn, then replied in a firm voice: «I can't involve my sister in a mistake I made.»

Bruce called him by his code name: «Headshot».

Eddie turned and looked thoughtfully at his former mentor. Bruce continued: «You know you can count on my silence, but I can't guarantee the same for others.»

Eddie's eyes grew darker. Without saying a word, he drew his angel dagger and looked at him with eyes that shone with fierce determination. «Then I will have to take care of it myself.»

The demon in front of him recoiled in horror and pressed themself against the damp, dirty wall of the alley. Their dilated eyes betrayed absolute panic as they desperately searched for a non-existent escape route. «I won't say anything! I swear!» they pleaded, their voice trembling with desperation. The scream echoed in the oppressive silence of the night, fading into the darkness without a trace.

Eddie stared at them with an icy, impassive gaze, devoid of any trace of compassion. The silence between them was heavy, charged with palpable tension. He allowed the demon to fully savor the horror of their impending doom, maintaining an icy calm that made the scene all the more terrifying. «I cannot trust that.» he finally said, his voice flat and controlled, before pulling the trigger firmly.

The shot rang through the alley like thunder, a dry explosion that ricocheted between the time-worn brick walls. The bullet struck the demon squarely in the forehead, and its body collapsed to the ground like an empty sack, its limbs twisted into unnatural poses. A puff of smoke rose from the barrel of the gun, slowly dissipating into the cold night air.

Eddie watched the lifeless body at his feet with a blank expression, aware that this was not a final end. He knew the demon would regenerate, but the process would be anything but painless. Being shot in the head was a traumatic experience even for an immortal, and this time, when the demon woke up, it would have no memory of itself or its previous life.

It was a cruel sentence: to live without memory, without identity, forced to start from scratch in a hostile and incomprehensible world. An empty, meaningless existence in which every link and experience of the past had been erased, with no possibility of recovery.

Eighteen. With that last one, Eddie had reduced eighteen members of the Killers' Guild - once his comrades and allies - to the same state of total oblivion. He had extracted the hippocampus, the seat of their memories, with surgical precision, using the Angelic Dagger to destroy that part of their brains. The process was irreversible: the fragments of the hippocampus would immediately dissolve, erasing all traces of their past. Their bodies would regenerate a new part of the brain, but it would be a blank slate, devoid of any memory or past experience.

He had not killed them in the strict sense of the word, but what he had done was perhaps worse. He had condemned those souls to a life of total loss, depriving them of any sense of self. Every single existence he had "saved" was now broken, forced to wander without purpose or direction in an already merciless hell.

An unbearable weight rested on his chest, like an icy claw gripping his heart. Guilt enveloped him like a dark cloak, smothering all thoughts of justification. Every fiber of his being screamed against what he had done, but Eddie knew the alternative would be even more devastating. If these demons retained their memories, they would pose an imminent threat to him and, more importantly, to his sister's safety.

As he holstered his weapon, one question continued to haunt him, whispering from his troubled conscience: was there really a justification for his actions? Or was he simply perpetuating the cycle of violence and suffering he had so desperately tried to escape?

Eddie looked up at the evening sky, where stars shone dimly through the blanket of smoke and darkness. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, laden with weariness and regret. The path he had chosen was lonely and painful, but he was convinced it was the only way to protect those he loved.

A sudden rustling behind him made him turn sharply, his heart pounding in his chest. But there was nothing behind him, just a piece of paper rolling lazily down the deserted street. Eddie stood still for a moment, watching the wind-driven paper as if it contained an answer to his doubts. Then he told himself it was just a figment of his imagination, the product of a tired and overworked mind.

He ran a hand over his forehead, trying to banish the feeling of being watched, too tired to investigate further. But when he looked back up at the sky, he could not shake the uneasiness that had gripped him. Perhaps it was not just the smoke or the shadows that made everything so oppressive. Perhaps the weight of his past, the choices he had made and had yet to make, was beginning to be felt with full force.

With slow, methodical movements, he stowed his weapons, taking special care to clean the angelic dagger. The blade, polished and implacable, reflected the pale glow of the stars as if to erase the traces of blood that had passed through it. What he had just done had eliminated the last witness to his failure; now only he and Bruce knew. As he carefully tucked the dagger away, he felt a mixture of relief and guilt rise up within him. His wings emerged from his back with a dull rustle, the blue scales moved the air as he soared through the air, heading for the Hazbin Hotel, his new home.

As he flew over the hellish landscape, the weight of his recent actions still weighed on him, though he desperately tried to convince himself that all was not lost. The abilities of his victims, he remembered, had remained intact in the parts of the brain he had not touched. Perhaps, he thought, they would find a way to survive without their memories. But that consolation was faint, a fragile hope that could not completely dispel the cloud of guilt that enveloped him.

Halfway through, the silence of his thoughts was interrupted by the sudden trill of his cell phone. Looking at the screen, he saw Angel Dust's name light up and a small smile formed on his lips. «Hey, Angel.» he replied, trying to hide the tiredness in his voice.

«Hey, Headie. I'm calling because Valentino wants me back at the studio. Didn't you have something to catch up on?» Angel's voice was a mixture of sarcasm and concern, a contrast Eddie knew all too well.

Eddie slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand, suddenly remembering that he had left his clothes soaking in the outside drain of the bathroom on the ground floor of the V Tower. With everything that had happened lately, he had completely forgotten about it. «Damn right! Thanks for reminding me, I'll be right there! Meet me in the parking lot in ten minutes.»

«Ten minutes? It takes you that long to get there?» Angel replied in a slightly mocking tone, but underneath the joke there was a hint of concern.

«Uh, yeah, I'm out of the hotel now. I've been... busy.» Eddie lied, trying to sound convincing.

«Oh, whatever. Try not to take too long, it's one of the rare times Val's in a good mood.» Angel warned, now in a more serious tone.

«You got it, boss!» Eddie joked, trying to make light of the situation.

Ending the call, Eddie accelerated his flight, trying to shake off the weight of his recent actions. He knew that the guilt over what he had done that afternoon would come back to haunt him, adding to the long list of problems that plagued him. New nightmares, more vivid and relentless, would await him that night, but for now, the thought of seeing Angel again and dealing with the immediate situation was enough to keep him focused.

The night was still long, and with it came the burden of his secrets and fears.

–

Eddie landed easily in front of his car, still hidden in the shadows after the evening under the V Tower. After getting in, he quickly drove to the hotel parking lot where he found Angel Dust waiting for him, looking bored, his eyes glued to his cell phone. Eddie was surprised by the demon-spider's outfit: he was wearing a student uniform, consisting of a white shirt that accentuated the fur on his chest so much that it almost looked like breasts. A long tie ran across the shirt, and a red plaid skirt completed the look, along with the ubiquitous high-heeled boots. She wore sunglasses as a headband, light makeup, and a white shoulder bag, with a touch of whimsy added by the earrings that hung, who knew how, from the sides of her head. Eddie found himself thinking that Angel looked really good in that outfit, despite the unusual combination.

As the car approached, Eddie noticed that Angel turned away with an annoyed gesture at first, but as soon as he saw who was behind the wheel, his attitude changed dramatically. The Spider-Demon's face lit up with a smile and he waved enthusiastically.

Rolling down the window, Eddie greeted him: «Hey, Angel. Sorry to keep you waiting. You though I was a client?»

Angel sighed, visibly relaxed now that he recognized his friend. «For a moment, yes, I thought you were someone else who wanted to give me a lift - and not the one in the car.»

Eddie raised an eyebrow in surprise. «Man, mine was supposed to be a joke. You had to work on the street, too?»

Angel huffed in a resigned tone. «When Val has money problems, I have to do my duty. You know what I mean.»

Eddie nodded with an understanding look. «I understand, unfortunately. Get on board. What's with the school uniform, anyway?»

Angel Dust chuckled as he opened the door and sat down on the seat next to Eddie: «I went ahead. I have a school-themed movie to shoot today. It's gonna be the same old: "Oh, no, professor, don't make me repeat the year, I'm willing to do everything!"»

Eddie burst out laughing and started the engine. «Yeah, porn is always full of clichés. I've never really been into it, you know?»

Angel tried to stifle an amused smile. «I wouldn't believe it if I saw it. Check out some of mine, you might change your mind.»

«After I saw how you get treated? I don't think so.» Eddie replied, shaking his head.

Angel looked at him with a more serious, but always playful expression. «You know, Headie, I don't hate my job. I just wish I had more freedom of choice. And not being squeezed dry every time.»

Eddie sighed and gave him a sympathetic look. «Well, that's the point. It goes against all my ethics.»

Angel laughed openly, amused by his friend's earnestness. «A sinner with ethics? That's a new one.»

«Why? Is it so strange?» asked Eddie, genuinely curious.

«Well, yes!» replied Angel, waving his hands to emphasize the point. «We're in hell, man! A sinner with ethics is like... an angel on heroin. Seriously, you're so atypical, what are you doing in hell?» he asked, tilting his head and moving a little closer.

Eddie reminisced about the horrible images of the afternoon when he hurt his former friends and colleagues. He knew he deserved hell, but decided to share a less painful part of his story. My name is not solely a nickname that I earned because of how I defeated my enemies. It's also a reminder of how I got here.» With a gesture, he imitated a gun with his hand, pointed fingers at the temple and simulated a shot.

Angel's expression immediately changed from mischievous to wistful. However, he did not lose his lighthearted attitude. «You like the easy path, uh? I, on the other hand, had to earn my hell. I grew up in the family business before I ended up here. Mafia mobsters, you know. I didn't know anything else. Using substances in my free time was enjoyable, until one day I overdosed and, poof, hell! Not like goody-goody-goodies like you, right, Santos?» he added with a teasing grin.

«Santos?» Eddie smiled slightly. «I preferred Headie.»

Angel chuckled with satisfaction. «Oh, you'll see, I'll find more nicknames for you. This is just the beginning.»

«Oh, really?» Eddie replied with a mock defiance. «Well, then I have yours already.»

Angel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. «Really? And what would that be?»

«"Silly". Because you're can be a really silly boy.» Eddie replied with a smile, sticking out his tongue playfully.

Angel burst out laughing, appreciating the nickname. «Touché, man. Touché. Come on, let's put on some music.» he said, turning on the radio and tuning to a station to fill the car with lighter vibes.

–

In the car, Eddie and Angel were serene, immersed in the lightness of the moment. The notes of the songs playing on the radio filled the air as they sang carefree, relaxed and in tune with the atmosphere, even the smells Eddie perceived were okay: serotonin, endorphins, all the variations of serenity. At one point, the radio unexpectedly played "Mary On A Cross" surprising them both.

«Do you want me to change it?» asked Eddie, reaching for the dashboard to change the station.

«No, no, never mind. It may be habit, but I like it now.» Angel replied with a smile, almost amused.

Eddie looked at him in surprise. «Really? I didn't expect that!»

Angel smiled, a little melancholy. «Well, I tied it to a pleasant memory.» he said, leaving the sentence in suspense, as if he didn't want to elaborate.

As they shared this intimate moment, the car was suddenly struck from behind, throwing them violently forward. Eddie gripped the steering wheel tightly as Angel spun around to see what had happened. Behind them, a large black van approached menacingly, its bulky size and sinister appearance portending trouble.

«Do you think it was an accident?» asked Angel, his tone already filled with suspicion.

Eddie had no time to answer as the van rammed them again, this time with more force, then slowed slightly as if assessing the next attack.

«What the hell is going on?» exclaimed Eddie, although a dark foreboding was already creeping into his mind.

Angel, sensing the danger, immediately became serious. «Whatever it is, don't stop.» he said with determination. He recognized the modus operandi all too well: that van wasn't there by chance.

Eddie nodded, his mind already in survival mode. «Don't worry, I won't.» With one sharp movement, he shifted into high gear and stepped on the accelerator, trying to outrun the van.

The black vehicle was not slow to respond, accelerating in turn. Individuals armed with rifles and machine guns emerged from its windows and opened fire on them. Bullets ripped through the air, shattering windows and piercing the body of the car.

«Shit!» Eddie cursed, zigzagging to avoid the shots as adrenaline pumped through his veins. Eddie's mind was working at full capacity, cool and focused despite the mortal danger. A quick glance in the rearview mirror told him that the gunmen were wearing uniforms similar to those of his last "victim". A low growl rose in his throat. Obviously, the person he had eliminated was part of a larger criminal group, and now they had come to avenge their partner.

«Who the hell are these assholes?» blurted out Angel, his voice filled more with frustration than fear.

Eddie replied in a tone that betrayed his frustration: «People I pissed off, probably. Keep your head down, I'm losing them.»

Angel, however, was not one to stand idly by. «Oh, no, toots!» he said with a note of defiance in his voice as he began to search for something. «This time I won't let you do it alone. Where the hell do you keep your weapons in here?»

Eddie, too focused to argue, replied dryly: «Under the back seats.»

Angel immediately went to the back and lifted up the back seats. Underneath he found an arsenal of automatic rifles. An almost creepy grin appeared on his face. «Oh yeah, come to Daddy.» he muttered, grabbing one of the weapons.

Arming himself, he turned to Eddie. «Warn me when you take a turn, I'll keep them busy!» With extreme ease, Angel leaned out of the window and began firing. The precision of his shots and the calmness with which he handled the situation were unmistakable signs of a life spent in crime. Despite the absurdity of the scene – Angel, in makeup and dressed like a schoolgirl, firing wildly at a speeding van – Eddie could not help but admire his skill.

Determined to stay out of trouble, Eddie increased his speed even more, barreling through the chaotic streets of Pentagram City. «Left!» he yelled as he rounded a tight corner. Angel clung to the seat with two of his forearms, maintaining stability as Eddie turned sharply.

The van followed them like a shadow, the driver obviously an expert at maintaining control. Angel managed to knock down two of the pursuers, but the driver seemed invincible: his vehicle's glass was bulletproof.

Eddie zigzagged through the streets of the entertainment district, honking his horn to avoid running over passersby who jumped aside just in time. He had to find a solution quickly or their pursuit would have disastrous consequences.

A sharp bend suddenly presented itself, an opportunity Eddie could not pass up. He grabbed Angel with one arm and pulled him into the car despite his protests. «I was this close to breaking that damn glass!» complained Angel.

«Buckle up!» ordered Eddie, his tone stern.

Angel looked ahead, panic starting to set in, realizing what his friend wanted to do. «You are not going to...»

«Oh, yes!» replied Eddie, pressing the gas pedal all the way down.

The bend wall approached at a frightening speed. Angel's voice got shakier and shakier: «Headie, you are joking...»

The wall came closer and closer.

«HEADIE, WE ARE GOING TO CRASH!» shouted Angel, the terror evident in her voice.

With a quick, precise movement, Eddie turned the wheel, drifting the car inches away from the wall. The van failed to replicate the maneuver and crashed violently into it, a deafening roar echoing through the street.

Accelerating away from the crash site, Eddie didn't stop the car until they were a few feet from the V Tower. Eddie and Angel caught their breath, the danger seemed to be over, they were both exhausted but alive.

After a moment of silence, they exchanged glances and burst out laughing, a liberating laugh that eased the tension that had been building up.

«You are officially the best pilot in history!» exclaimed Angel, still in disbelief at what had just happened.

«And you the best wingman in a chase!» replied Eddie with a complicit smile. «Family legacy?»

Angel nodded and checked his outfit. «Yes, unfortunately. Or fortunately, depending on how you look at it. I just hope I didn't ruin the outfit... I don't want to hear Val scream.»

Eddie laughed, but noticed that Angel was worried about more than just the outfit. He got out of the car, walked over to Angel's side, and opened the passenger door with a gallant gesture. «May I?» he asked, holding out his hand to Angel.

«Oh, what a gentleman.» Angel said, flattered, as he took Eddie's hand to get out of the car.

They stood facing each other, with Eddie's back to the V Tower and Angel watching him with a curious expression. «I don't see anything ripped or torn.» Eddie said, inspecting Angel's dress. «Maybe just a little wrinkled...»

Angel smoothed his skirt with a sigh. «Looks like I'll have to get the iron.»

«Don't worry, no one will notice if you don't...» Eddie started to say, but stopped abruptly.

Behind Angel, one of the pursuers, badly wounded but still alive, pointed an Angel rifle at them. Even though he was a mess of blood and rage, the hatred in his eyes kept him on his feet.

Eddie reacted instinctively, shoving Angel toward the car with a desperate cry saying: «Look out!» But the warning was too late. A shot rang through the air, and in a flash of excruciating pain, Eddie felt the bullet lodge in his shoulder. The pain exploded through his body like a violent tide as adrenaline flooded his system. His body reacted instantly, adrenaline rushing through his system like a flood. His pupils dilated and his eyes turned a deep red, while glowing veins of purplish-blue spread along his body, emitting an eerie, almost ethereal light.

With a bestial growl, Eddie lunged at his attacker, filled with unrelenting fury. His fight mode, fueled by pain and rage, turned him into a machine of destruction. With a single blow, delivered with superhuman strength, he pierced the enemy's abdomen, killing him instantly.

Soon after, Eddie's fury vanished just as abruptly, leaving him hunched over, gasping for air, the pain of the angel's bullet in his shoulder consuming him. His breathing was labored and his movements slow and shaky. The adrenaline slowly drained from his body, revealing the true intensity of the pain.

Angel only realized what had happened when he saw Eddie, panting, staggering next to the lifeless body of their attacker. Panic painted Angel's face as he ran toward him. «Head shot!» he shouted worriedly.

Eddie raised a bloody hand to stop him, trying to smile weakly despite the pain that ate away at him. «Don't come any closer...your outfit...»

Angel huffed, ignoring the superficial comment. «To double-hell with the outfit! You need treatment now!»

«I just... need... sweets...» murmured Eddie, his voice weak but determined.

«What, sweets? This is not the time for...»

«In the dashboard - I'll be better later.» Eddie gritted his teeth to keep from screaming in pain.

Angel hesitated, torn between the instinct to drag him back to the hotel and the will to trust him. «Forget the sweets, you've been hit by an Angel bullet! We have to get you out of here!»

Eddie shook his head, firm in his demand. «NO! For once, listen to me. I need the sugar - you know that. As for the bullet... well, now I have an excuse to use the tower bathroom, right?» He tried to smile, though his expression was distorted with pain.

Angel looked at him worriedly, knowing how serious the situation was. «At least let me see the wound...»

«There's no time, Angel. Just hand me the candy in the dashboard, I'll take care of the rest.» Eddie spoke with difficulty, but with a determination that left no room for objection.

Finally, Angel relented and did as he was asked. He retrieved the candy and handed it to Eddie, who ate it with trembling hands. As soon as the first sugar entered his bloodstream, Eddie felt an improvement, although the wound still throbbed painfully.

Angel watched him intently, a mixture of admiration and concern in his eyes. «You just can't stop doing the hero, can you?» he said, his voice cracking slightly with emotion.

Eddie smiled weakly as he tried to hold his injured arm steady. «If it meant saving your life, then it was worth it.» he replied, despite the sharp pain running through his shoulder. «Now I have to get this thing off before it kills me.»

Angel, trying to hide his concern behind a smile, replied with his usual irony: «Oh, no, you're not going to die in my arms, Headie. Especially after all the chaos we caused in Pentagram City just to stay alive.» Gently, he let Eddie lean against him to help him walk.

–

Their entrance into the tower went almost unnoticed, except by a satyr-shaped demon as tall as Eddie's knee. This little demon, rather than caring about Eddie's injury, seemed more offended by Angel's outfit and immediately began ranting about how Angel should pay more attention to the props.

As the satyr continued to complain, Angel and Eddie completely ignored him. Eddie, trying not to show too much pain, stopped leaning on Angel, although he continued to hold his injured shoulder with his good hand.

Angel looked at him seriously, a veil of concern crossing his gaze. «Promise me that as soon as you get the bullet out and fix... the other thing, you will go to the hotel immediately.» His words were a soft but firm command.

Eddie looked at him with gratitude and a hint of concern. «Are you sure you can make it back on your own?»

Angel smiled, trying to dissipate the tension. «I'm not naive, Headie, I can handle myself. Really. I always have.»

Eddie smiled in return, but with difficulty. He raised his good arm in surrender. «All right, but only because you insist. Did you keep my rifle?»

Angel clapped his hand twice on his hip, a gesture that indicated the weapon was safe. «It's with me.»

«Perfect. Use it only if necessary, but remember, I want it back.»

Angel chuckled. «Don't worry, it will be returned to you safe and sound. Now go and take care of yourself before it's too late.»

Eddie gave a playful military nod with his good hand. «You got it, boss.» Then, turning to the satyr demon who continued to rant unheeded, he added carelessly, «I'm going to use your bathroom for a moment, I have a bullet to extract.»

The satyr raised his voice even louder, frustrated at being ignored, but Eddie continued to pretend to look for the bathroom, knowing where it really was.

Angel watched him walk away, feeling the weight of every unspoken word. He knew Eddie was struggling with pain, but there was something else, something he was not telling. In his heart, as the other demon screamed unheeded, he hoped his friend Headshot would open up enough to tell him what was tormenting him.

–

Eddie walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, staring at the reflection that gave him an image of deep despair. The guilt of his broken life ate at him from within, but he knew he had to face something even more difficult: removing his tank top to remove the angel bullet lodged in his shoulder.

With shaking hands, he began to remove his jacket. So far, so good, but when he tried to grab the edge of the camisole, he froze. His heart pounded in his chest and his breathing became short and labored. He took a deep breath and tried to summon the necessary courage. His hand reached for the fabric, but stopped. He couldn't do it. He knew how dangerous it was to have an angelic bullet lodged under his skin: the risk of poisoning was very high, and this time he could really die. But the thought of looking at his own body, of reliving the horrors of the past, paralyzed him.

Trying to buy some time, Eddie made his way to the back bathroom where he had hidden his clothes in the sink. Despite the excruciating pain in his shoulder, lifting the lid of the box was an infinitely easier task than facing his image in the mirror. He pulled out his clothes, soaked and heavy, and wrung them into the toilet bowl with difficulty, fighting the twinges in his shoulder. From the pocket of his cargo pants, he pulled out a zippered plastic bag. With meticulous care, he folded his clothes as tightly as possible and slid them into the bag. Each move was accompanied by increasing pain, but Eddie managed to keep a composed expression, hiding his agony with a few grimaces.

After arranging his clothes and tidying up the bathroom, Eddie tucked the envelope into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and sighed deeply. He knew he could no longer avoid a confrontation with himself. He went back to the mirror, grabbed a pocket knife, and with one last effort forced himself to lift the camisole in one firm motion.

As the bodice lifted, it revealed his ravaged torso, a raw mosaic of pain and humiliation. Dark veins sprouted from the wound where he had been struck, a sign that the poisoning had begun. But that was nothing compared to the horror Eddie tried to hide from everyone, even himself. His chest, from his collarbones to his abdomen, was a tangle of scars, burns, and wounds that told stories of unspeakable torture.

The scars were deep and irregular, some thin as thread, others wide and thick, signs of a past infection that had left dark shadows of necrosis. Burns that should have been simple black patches had turned into jagged outlines, the skin reduced to a barren, undulating desert. Each mark was a tangible reminder of the suffering she had endured, a silent testimony to the pain inflicted not only on her body, but on her soul.

Some of these scars were just meaningless marks, the result of random acts of violence, but others had been etched with deliberate precision, forming words and phrases that seemed to burn more than the flesh itself. Bible verses engraved in stiff, curvilinear handwriting added to the brutality of the message. Words like "abomination" and "sin" were traced with eerie precision, as if they had been imprinted to instill deep shame and pain.

Among them all, on the wounded shoulder, the word "faggot" stood out, bigger and fiercer than all the others. Other horrible epithets like "Sissy," "Dyke," and "Cocksucker" were scattered across his torso, etched by fire or knife in another attempt to humiliate him.

Eddie shivered, memories of the past washing over him like a wave, the scars seeming to burn again even though they had been there forever. He had to hurry. He picked up his pocketknife and, ignoring the voice in his head telling him to slit his throat, brought it to the open wound. Gritting his teeth, he pulled out the angel ball in one swift motion, fighting the growing pain. He dabbed at the wound with napkins to dry the blood, and with trembling hands, he hastily put his bodice back on.

The voices in his head faded, leaving him alone with the silence and his suffering. Eddie stood in front of the mirror and watched the reflection of his sweaty face. Pain pulsed through every fiber of his body, but it was slowly subsiding, a sign that regeneration had already begun. His mind was a tumult of bad memories and trauma, but now that his scars were covered again, he was regaining control.

Eddie looked back at his reflection. He saw the broken boy he had been, and the man he had become who had survived all that horror. This man, despite everything, was still standing, still alive.

With shaking hands, he rinsed his face, trying to wipe away the sweat and blood. He pulled his jacket back on, careful not to touch the wound too much. Every movement was a reminder of the bullet he had just removed, but also of the promise he had made to himself: he would no longer be a victim.

Eddie composed himself: he did not want his loved ones to see him in this state, so vulnerable and broken, especially Angel. Angel did not know his full story, did not know about the scars, the words etched on his skin, but maybe one day he would find out. And when that day came, Eddie hoped he would be ready to tell her.

He fixed his hair and tried to look as normal as possible. He had to play it cool, at least until he was sure.

With one last look at his reflection, Eddie turned away from the mirror and walked out of the bathroom. The lobby of the V Tower was once again buzzing with people working for the Vees; no one paid any attention to him as he walked out the front door.

He had promised Angel that he would return to the hotel as soon as he solved the problem with the orb, and he did. As he walked, the thought of Angel warmed his heart. Despite all the pain and suffering, there was hope, a light. Maybe with Angel he could be authentic and show even the worst parts of himself, parts of himself that Eddie himself could not tolerate.

Melancholically, he took one last look at the tower's tall elevator, thinking of his friend facing another long night of hard, thankless work. «Good luck, Silly.» he whispered, as if Angel could hear him.

He felt a strange warmth in his heart, a feeling he had not felt in a long time. It was hope, a hope that Angel might be the person who could look past those scars, accept the man he had become, with all his wounds and traumas. And if so, maybe they could heal each other together.

–

Driving with one arm was not an easy task. To avoid aggravating the effects of the Angel steel still circulating in his system, Eddie relied on his good arm, leaving the injured one hanging unused at his side. The pain in his shoulder forced him to drive with extreme caution, slowing down considerably to reach the Hazbin Hotel without causing an accident.

When he finally arrived in front of the hotel, Eddie realized that he would not be able to park the car in a hidden spot as he usually did. His shoulder was too sore to allow him to make any precise maneuvers. So he left the car right in front of the entrance, in full view, not caring about the consequences.

Trying to hide the pain, he crossed the threshold of what he now considered his home, anticipating a long and well-deserved sleep. But as soon as he entered, something caught his attention.

At the marble reception desk, Charlie was assigning a room to a familiar face: his old mentor, Bruce, who was now joining the guests of the Hazbin Hotel. With a half smile, Eddie approached to greet him: «Bruce! What are you doing here?»

Bruce turned to his former student, fumbling with the keys he had just received, and replied with an enigmatic smile: «Well, after what you told me today, I couldn't leave you alone.»

Charlie, surprised and curious, joined the conversation: «Oh, you two know each other?»

«Sure, I was the one who taught him everything he knows.» Bruce replied good-naturedly.

The old mentor put one arm around Eddie's shoulders in a fatherly gesture, but he immediately noticed the grimace of pain on the boy's face. Concerned, he let go of the shoulder and asked: «Hey, what happened to you?»

«It's nothing, just a gunshot.» Eddie replied, massaging his injured shoulder with a grimace.

Charlie approached, obviously concerned: «Did they hurt you? Let me see.»

Eddie recoiled, trying to minimize the injury: «It's nothing, really.»

Charlie tried to insist: «Headshot, stop pretending you're okay all the time...»

But Bruce interrupted her in a reassuring tone: «Don't worry, Your Highness, I'll take care of this bonehead. You, if I am not mistaken, have other guests to attend to.»

Charlie hesitated for a moment, but finally nodded, leaving Bruce to take care of Eddie. Before leaving, however, he addressed Eddie again with a direct question: «Do you trust this person?»

Eddie nodded without hesitation: «I would trust him with my life.»

A shadow passed over Bruce's face as a mixture of emotions were reflected in his gaze. Eddie sensed a flurry of emotional scents coming from his mentor: pride, agitation and the pungent scent of regret, a feeling he had often noticed in Bruce, but which the man had never wanted to dwell on. Whenever Eddie had asked him what haunted him, Bruce had given vague or incoherent answers: he spoke of an abandoned battle buddy, a lost love, or a wife who died in childbirth. Probably each of these stories contained some part of the truth.

With a final nod, Charlie directed them to the infirmary, where they walked together.

–

Bruce carefully applied clean gauze to Eddie's exposed shoulder while scolding him like a wise old man: «Paper towels from public restrooms are not a good alternative for cleaning a wound. You should have a first-aid kit in your car, maybe even a spell for angel steel poisoning.»

Eddie listened distractedly, trying not to think about the writing on his shoulder. So far, Bruce was the only one who had seen his scars, having treated him more than once, but the fact that he knew that secret made him feel vulnerable, as if he was not safe even with him.

Bruce continued, looking closely at the wound: «Luckily, you got the bullet out before it started poisoning you in earnest. Ten more minutes and you would have been rushed to the hospital.»

Eddie did not respond, lost in thought, looking away from his wounded shoulder.

Noticing his student's mental absence, Bruce snapped his fingers in front of his face to bring him back to reality: «Headshot!»

Eddie shook himself and turned back to Bruce: «Yeah?»

Bruce sighed, obviously worried: «You weren't listening, were you?»

«No...» Eddie admitted sadly, pointing to the words 'faggot' that were tattooed on his skin. «I was trying to avoid thinking about... this.»

Bruce put a hand on his good shoulder, trying to find the right words: «You know you can't pretend it didn't happen forever. I can't force you to face your past, but one day it's going to come back to haunt you. What will you tell your friends? What will you tell your sister?»

After a long silence, Eddie put his hand on Bruce's wrist, looked him in the eye and answered firmly: «I don't have anything to face. Nothing happened, it was just a nightmare. And as long as I stay away from my tormentor, it will continue to be a nightmare and I will be fine.»

Eddie felt the pungent smell of remorse again, enveloping him like a silent cloud. Bruce said nothing in response to these words, but in a grave and measured voice he concluded: «I hope you're right, Headshot. I really hope you're right.»

Suddenly, the infirmary door swung open, startling Eddie. Instinctively, he tried to cover the scar on his shoulder, but immediately relaxed when he saw who had entered. His sister Molly, her eyes red and swollen with tears, ran toward him, screaming desperately: «Brother, don't die! I don't want to be alone!» She threw herself against his legs, clutching them with all her strength.

Eddie could not help but smile affectionately as he saw his little sister so worried. He stroked her head gently, trying to reassure her: «Honey, I'm fine. The bullet only hit me in the shoulder and I've already had it removed.»

Molly raised her face, still streaked with tears, and whimpered: «But it was an angelic bullet...»

Eddie continued to reassure her in a calm voice: «It didn't stay in me long enough to do a serious damage, if that's what you're worried about. Remember I told you about Bruce? He helped me clean the wound, so there's no danger.»

Then he turned to his old mentor and introduced his sister with a smile: «Anyway, Bruce, this is my sister, code name Kitty. Kitty, this is Bruce.»

Molly raised her head for a moment to say shyly: «Pleasure.» before hiding her face in Eddie's leg again. The two men could not help but smile at the cute scene.

«Come here, honey.» Eddie said, and with Bruce's help, he lifted Molly onto his legs and let her rest her head on his uninjured shoulder.

He cuddled her, letting her calm down slowly, until suddenly Molly asked him: «Headshot, why do you always get in trouble?»

Eddie sighed and thought for a moment before answering: «Because I have suffered so much in my life and been alone for so long, that now, having people I love, I would do anything to protect them. You, Angel, Charlie - all of you. You are my family. And my treasures.»

Then, with a loving gesture, she kissed her little sister's forehead and began to sing in a soft voice:

«You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When the skies are gray

You'll never know, dear

How much I love you

Please don't take

My sunshine away.»

Molly fell asleep on his shoulder as he continued to sing. Eddie looked at her tenderly, thinking how important his little sister was to him and how important the others in the gang had become in his life, especially that silly Angel Dust.

As he finished the song, a lonely tear ran down his cheek at the thought that he might lose some of them.

«Please don't take my sunshine away.» he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion, and hugged his little sister a little tighter, as if he feared she might fade away too.

–

Alastor was not the type to take shortcuts, but under those circumstances, he had no choice.

That afternoon, when he decided to find out the truth, he knew exactly who to summon. Not just any being, but Roo, the root of all evil, an ancient and corrupt being that lurks in the shadows of the darkest hearts, a being with whom Alastor had made a pact long before his earthly death. Though it was true that her body slept beneath the Ring of Belphegor, her mind had eyes and ears everywhere, listening, watching, and waiting in the shadows for the moment to rise in all its power.

In the darkness of his chamber, a magical circle of indecipherable symbols was drawn, and an oppressive silence fell as Alastor spoke the words that awakened the Root. Black smoke rose from the floor, thick and suffocating, enveloping him like a shroud. Out of the smoke emerged a grotesque figure, a twisted amalgam of Root, shadows, eyes, and fragments of what might have been a female face and body.

«Ah, Alastor... it has been a long time, but I see you are still loyal to our deal.» Roo whispered, his voice scraping like wood against stone. «What brings you to seek my power again?»

Alastor, maintaining his eternal smile, stared unblinkingly at the creature. «I am not here out of mere curiosity, Roo. There is a debt I must collect. A soul that has become intertwined with mine in ways that only you can reveal. Tell me what you know about a certain attempted murder that took place forty years ago, and as always, I will be willing to pay the price.»

Roo was silent for a moment, then replied in a tone that betrayed a perverse satisfaction. «Oh, that attempted murder - I remember it well. A mind full of arrogance, a heart thirsting for admiration and wanting to be loved. And you, the chosen victim. Are you sure you want to know the truth, Alastor? You know that each new piece of information increases the price you must pay. The burden on your soul is already heavy... Are you willing to bear any more?» Roo crept uneasily toward Alastor, staying only inches from the radio demon's face.

Alastor's smile grew thinner, but his resolve never wavered. «If there is one thing I have learned in this existence, it is that the price of power is inevitable. Show me what I want to know, and I will accept the consequences.»

«Really? Even if I ask for much more than your soul? Perhaps someone you are connected to...» Roo suggested venomously.

«You know very well that I have no ties.» Alastor replied stubbornly «Tell me who you want and I will gladly deliver him to you.»

«In due time, dear. In due time.» Roo replied sweetly.

Roo stretched one of his twisted roots toward Alastor, making contact with the center of his forehead. As he touched it, the world around him vanished, replaced by a sharp, terrifying vision.

He saw himself as in a distorted dream, forty years ago. The streets of Pentagram City were illuminated by a ghostly light, and Alastor watched from the shadows as a young demon, his gaze full of determination and overconfidence. The weapon in the demon's hand was pointed directly at Alastor's head, and the killing intent was as clear as the night that enveloped them.

Slowly, the young man's face revealed itself, and Alastor recognized those features, harder and less refined than today, but unmistakable. It was Headshot, the young assassin who had recently come into their lives, a valuable pawn.

The vision faded, and Alastor found himself back in the darkened room, with Roo watching him, an expression of mischief on his non-face. «You've seen now. You know who your precious Headshot really is. Every piece of information has its price, Alastor, and now your debt to me has grown even larger. Your soul, already so tainted, is now even closer to being completely mine.»

Alastor was silent for a moment, savoring the revelation. Then, with icy calm, he replied: «A price I gladly pay, Roo. Information has always been my most powerful weapon, and today is no different. Headshot tried to get rid of me once, but now I know the real game has just begun.»

Roo retreated into the shadows, his whisper once again echoing in Alastor's mind. «Remember, Radio Demon. Each time you return to me, the burden grows. And one day that weight will crush you. But until then, go ahead and play your games...»

When the creature was gone, Alastor stood alone in the room, his smile fiercer than ever. He knew the risks of his pact, but he also knew that the truth, no matter how costly, would always put him one step ahead of everyone else. Now, with the knowledge of who Headshot really was, Alastor prepared for the next move in this deadly game, knowing that the time for action was near.

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