Charlie's Angels - Pieces

by Kkat FoE

Preparations are underway for the wedding of Charlie, Vaggie and Emily! But Alastor has clued Charlie onto a great mystery that has ensnared both the Radio Demon and her own mother. As Charlie investigates, a threat to everyone in Hell and Heaven alike begins to take form. One with personal ties to herself and others in the Hazbin Hotel.

4. Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Chapter Three

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Week One, Day Two - Carmine Residence, just after midnight:

The puppy demon made a face as she sipped at the tea provided to her. Clara had wrapped a blanket around the girl. The shivering wasn't from anything external.

Carmilla had already spotted the very young woman pocket three things, none of them consequential. It was extremely rude, but the behavior appeared ingrained. The girl herself seemed to be in shock. She expected the girl would wonder where they came from when next she emptied her pockets.

"And what do you plan to do with her next?" Carmine asked her daughters.

"Well, we were hoping she could stay here until morning," Clara said softly. "Get some sleep someplace safe."

"After that," Odette answered, "We intended to call the hotel. Arrange a meet. They can take her back to the hotel."

Carmilla nodded to her daughter. It was good that they had planned it out. Bringing the young woman back to the Hazbin Hotel directly had been off the table. The assistance Mrs. Bomb and her companion had been providing fell under the umbrella of an alliance with Heaven's Embassy. And very specifically not with Alastor's hotel.

"And Mrs. Bomb?"

"No trace," Clara said. "But then... with what she said happened, there wouldn't be."

Not shock. The young woman at her table was locked in grief.

Given the lack of a body, denial could prove hard to overcome. With what they understood of the circumstances, so would anger.

"How many?" Carmilla asked.

"Eleven weapons using angelic steel, total," Odette noted. "Including the one we took off of her, which, based on the earlier text, had belonged to one of the gangers."

Odette turned away, pulling out her phone, which was buzzing softly for attention.

Clara whispered, "She was waiting for them to pull themselves back together."

Which, given how violently their bodies would have been torn apart, would take at least several days.

"Mom, do we know if a sinner's soul will come back from whatever happens if we enter another Ring?" Clara asked, dropping her voice low enough she hoped their guest wouldn't hear.

Crymini's ear twitched.

"I have never heard of it happening," Carmilla admitted. "But that isn't the same as knowing it won't."

"Mother," Odette interrupted softly.

Carmilla caught the tone and turned to her. "Yes?"

"Valentino's dead."

Carmillia Carmine looked over at the granddaughter clock. Then back to Odette. "Does it appear to be permanent?"

Odette appeared unperturbed, but Carmilla could see alarm in her eyes. Clara was staring. The puppy girl was pretending to be oblivious, but her body language was an open book compared to Alastor. She was listening.

"I do not believe we can be sure," Odette stated. "Cause of death was a car bomb, but there was an excessive amount of angelic shrapnel."

"Who called?"

"Oura, my contact at Consent."

Good. "See to the care of Ms. Bomb's companion, then go to bed yourselves. Tomorrow might be busy; I want you to be rested."

As Clara and Odette moved to usher the puppy woman away, Carmilla whispered, "I myself am looking at a long night."

First things first. Call Zestial.

---

Week One, Day Two - Lute's bedroom, just after midnight:

Lute lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take her and the nightmares to come again. She wasn't looking forward to it.

Minutes passed. And she began to drift into that howling abyss.

She felt the vibration of her secret phone.

Seriously? At this hour?

It was easier to think than thank you. She felt relief all the same.

Lute lifted the phone before her, the light bathing the albino features of her face. No call. Just a text message:

Check the news.

---

Week One, Day Two - Charlie's, Vaggie's and Emily's bedroom, after midnight:

"Arrugh! Seriously?" Charlie growled as the doorbell for their bedroom chimed again.

We were just getting started!

Her tail lashed as she clambered out of their bed, shooting apologetic looks at her wives. The horns and tail made it harder to throw on her pajamas, turning the walk to the door into a bumbling dance. But she was decent, if sweaty and aromatic, by the time she reached the door.

She took a moment more, ignoring the chime (four now), and put on a pleasant demeanor. Then opened the door and smiled down at Husk with as much geniality as she could muster. "This really isn't a good time."

Her tail cracked the air in frustration.

Husk's eyes flicked briefly to it, then back to look her in the eyes. The winged feline bartender's face registered dismay at what he had interrupted, but it wasn't apologetic. He didn't say anything. Just motioned with a wave of his hand for her to follow.

A flash of light from behind her told her Emily had summoned her Heavenly raiment.

Charlie followed.

By the time they reached the parlor, Charlie's demonic aspect had faded. She saw Lute sitting on a chair, watching the television.

What are the Vees doing now?

"I'll murder them for interrupting," Charlie grumbled, not meaning it in the slightest.

"Somebody beat you to it, my dear," Alastor's voice sounded from behind her, filled with radio distortion. "I must confess, for the first time in my life, I'm enjoying watching the telly."

---

Week One, Day Two - Hazbin Hotel, after midnight:

The front door of the Hazbin Hotel slammed open and Angel Dust trudged through, swinging it closed behind him as he moved for the bar.

"You're back early," Husk noted.

"Yeah," Angel Dust groused. "You're not going to believe what that motherfucker Val pulled..."

He stopped as he reached the bar, finally taking in the scene in the parlor. An after-midnight gathering around the television. Everyone, even Lute. Most of them with pained and worried expressions. Except for Alastor, who was smiling enough for all of them.

His first impression was that he had interrupted a late night movie. Seeing Alastor's raw joy, Bambi came to mind. But neither Charlie nor Emily were enough of a wreck for that. Which led to his second impression.

"Okay, who died?"

They weren't looking at him with confusion and relief. But just to be clear, he put his hands to his chest floof and made it clear, "I'm still here."

"Valentino pulled something?" Husk asked. "Tonight?"

Angel Dust sighed and dropped onto one of the bar stools. "Yeah. He sent somebody to kill me." That wasn't the upsetting part. "Sent him to my work!" That was. "After we got everything under control, the owners sent me home early to collect myself. They ain't gonna fire me, but they are not happy with that kind of trouble following me to their business."

And I don't fucking blame them. That fucker put everyone in danger.

"Oh my gosh," Charlie blurted. "What happened!?"

"Killer was being forced. Didn't want to be doing it. So my please don't hurt me act got him to hesitate just long enough." Angel Dust waved his hands. "He wasn't expecting two extra arms. Thank god for being a spider."

He sighed, collapsing against the bar. "Bosses told me to take a few days off and see if there was some way to settle things so it doesn't happen again."

Like that was going to happen.

"And did you?" Alastor asked, shadowing up into his personal space.

Angel Dust jumped back just enough to fall off the stool, hitting his head on the edge of the counter as he crashed to the floor.

Ow! Fuck! "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Valentino's dead," Husk told him.

Angel Dust's mind reeled along with the throbbing of his head. "What? Wait, really? When?" Reality began to sink in. "How dead?" Then Alastor's words gained context. "Wait, you guys think I did it?"

Angel Dust began to laugh. "I'm flattered."

"Somebody blew up his limo with him in it," Vaggie told him. "News says there was a ton of angelic steel. Don't know if that was part of the bomb, or something he had with him. But it's looking like one of the Vees may be out of our hair for good."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer fellow," Angel Dust quipped, still laughing as a flood of emotions tried to bum-rush his heart. The biggest and most welcome was relief. But that was also the one he was trying hardest not to feel. Because his head was telling him there was no way Valentino was finally gone.

It's a trick. The Vees are faking his death for some reason.

"Did you tell anyone else what happened to you tonight?" Vaggie asked cautiously.

"What?" Angel Dust shook his head. "No, not really. I sent Cherri Bomb a text, but it didn't go through. Thought about calling you, but then I remembered you're a social recluse." He followed with, "I swear, I'm gonna buy all of you cell phones with my next paycheck."

"Ha!" Alastor laughed sharply. "No."

Charlie whined a little. "We've tried calling Cherri Bomb too. She's not answering."

Angel Dust climbed back onto his seat. "Oh I get it. You're all worried Cherri Bomb decided to get payback on my behalf. That it?"

That actually makes sense. His gal pal was collecting angelic steel in the Doomsday District today. And she would know better than anyone how to make sure a bomb would shred her intended target with the stuff.

"Well, if she did, I owe her a lifetime of rounds!"

"Yeah. Except this moves us from war footing with the Vees to open warfare," Vaggie stated. "For the foreseeable future, nobody leaves the Hotel without using the buddy system. Nobody leaves unarmed. And... yeah... I'm thinking we all need cell phones." At the static crackle, she revised, "Except Alastor."

"And it means we've taken out an Overlord," Husk added. "Or, at least, a whole lot of very dangerous people are going to think we have."

Charlie spoke up. "I'm just worried about Cherri Bomb. And Crymini. Neither of them are back yet."

A soft, Heavenly glow manifested above Emily's open hand. "Call Cherri Bomb."

The light orb hovered. Then winked out. Emily whimpered.

"What's that mean?" Charlie asked. She'd seen Emily make orb calls before and the orb usually just flew off. Or split, with one flying and the other staying.

"It means..." Emily stopped herself from saying what she was about to say. Angel Dust had a dark, sinking feeling. "It means she's out of range."

That answer surprised him. "Out of range?" Angel Dust asked. What was out of range of seraphim magic that routinely connected Heaven and Hell?

Lute answered coldly. "It means your friend is either at the Throne, in the Other, or dead."

---

Week One, Day Two - Sir Pentious Loft, Heaven, early morning:

Molly lifted a leg at a time, remaining completely stable on her remaining three as she strapped on her new boots. "Gosh, I remember how much of a balancing dance this could turn into when I was human."

Why didn't you just sit down? Sir Pentious felt the urge to ask, but didn't.

"Yesss," Sir Pentious said, still lounging across his bed, naked and enjoying the warmth of the morning light. "Heaven has blessed us, Misssss Molly. You have four feet and I have none, and all those with two are jealous."

That got a laugh. Molly looked around for her bow. "So, what will you be doing up here while I'm down below?"

"I would reiterate how much of a missstake that is. But I have been consssssidering taking a trip down their myssself," Sir Pentious informed her.

"Oooh! Time with your true love?"

"YES!" A pause. "Do you mean Sssscience or Cherri Bomb?"

"Well, you can get Science up here," Molly teased.

"True." Sir Pentious curled over. "Either way, yessss. I'm going down there. For both."

Molly finished tying her bow. "You're going down there to do a Science?"

Sir Pentious nodded, looking up at her upside down. "And a diplomacy. And hopefully, a sex or two." His awkward phrasing in Consent had become an inside joke that they found too fun to let go. "Although if Cherri would rather just blow things up, I'll happily accompany her."

Molly turned to the serpent angel, eyebrows raised. "A diplomacy?"

"Part of my newest project!" Sir Pentious coiled and slithered upright, lifting to put a hand on his bare chest. From the dresser, his hat gave a determined stare. "Building the first inter-realm tele-communications system!"

Molly gave a delighted gasp. "You're going to make it so angels and demons can talk to each other?" She paused. "Wow. I'm imagining the spam now."

"Yesssss, there are some things we will need to avoid," Sir Pentious admitted. "And it will be very limited for a while, assuming I can make it work at all. But the Sssscience seems sssolid."

He sighed a bit, looking away. "The hard part will be negotiating with the Vees to use their cellphone network Hellside." He looked back at Molly, one hand rubbing the back of his hood in embarrassment. "We have a little bit of a hissssstory."

---

Week One, Day Two - Hazbin Hotel Parlor, early morning:

Nobody had tried going back to sleep.

Charlie and her angels had retreated long enough to take fresh showers (and in Charlie's and Vaggie's cases, throw on extra clothes). Husk had the espresso machine running and was keeping everyone fueled.

"We really should get some sleep," Vaggie pressed again. "I'm not liking going into today unrested."

"I'm thankful not to sleep," Lute muttered.

"Can't sleep! I'm going out today," Niffty announced, causing Lute's eyes to narrow.

Vaggie raised an eyebrow. "Really? Where?"

"Dunno yet!" Niffty said gleefully.

Vaggie processed that. "Well, if you do, be sure to take someone with you. Buddy system, okay."

"I will!"

Lute smiled inwardly as Vaggie left it at that.

"Speaking of going out," Alastor's voice crackled. "Husker, Emily, the next Overlord's meeting has been moved up due to this little incident. Will you both be ready in three days? I believe your demonstration is still on the agenda."

Emily exchanged looks with Husk, then nodded. "I need to be in Heaven in a few hours for my next session. I'll portal over early and make sure there isn't anything pressing or that's been forgotten, and that my schedule is clear."

"Hey, maybe tell Molly she's confined to Heaven for a while?" Angel Dust suggested half-heartedly.

Emily stared at him, surprised. "Why?"

"For my own good," Angel Dust offered.

Emily caught the tone and giggled. "Nope. I'm not going to do that. You need the company." With a glance towards the (now turned off) television, she added, "I will warn her though."

"Maybe we should try figuring out who killed Valentino?" Charlie suggested.

Her suggestion drew a few murmurs.

"Seriously? You want to play detective?" Angel Dust spat. "Why? It's Hell, babydoll. Murder is background static."

That got a slightly broader smile from Alastor.

Vaggie jumped to the defense of Charlie's idea, "Well, for starters, because otherwise everyone will assume we did it. Including the remaining Vees."

"Because nothing says innocence like inserting yourself into an investigation," Husk cautioned.

"What investigation?" Angel Dust snarked. "It's not like Pentagram City has feds. This is literally Charlie's Angels & the Mystery Nobody Gives a Fuck About!"

Vaggie shot back, "Well I for one don't want us to still have targets on our backs during the wedding!"

"Oh." Angel Dust's annoyance dropped away. "Yeah, I can see that."

The sound of passionate Spanish flamenco guitar music erupted from Charlie's chest. Everyone turned as Charlie quickly brought out her phone.

"Hey, Vagina, I think it's for you," Angel Dust snarked. Vaggie shot him a look.

"Dance!" Niffty encouraged, getting an ugh of frustration from the woman as Charlie answered.

A moment later, Charlie held out her phone. "Vaggie, it actually is for you."

"What?" Vaggie asked as she ignored Angel Dust's claim of 'called it'. "Who?"

"Carmilla wants to talk to you."

---

Week One, Day Two - ?, early morning:

"...from."

I am dead. I am so fucking dead.

Cherri Bomb gasped, sucking in strange air, as feeling returned to her body. She was on all fours. She felt a firm, slick surface under her hands and knees.

I'm back. I respawned.

She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving. Hearing and vision were beginning to creep back. Taking their fucking time. At first everything had been dark. Now everything was blurry and way too bright. Like having a doctor shining a light into her eye. She could hear a voice, but couldn't make out the words. It sounded distant. It felt close.

Don't panic. I've died before. Just get my senses and wits. Then get back to the Hazbin Hotel.

"...never seen one like that before. And I've seen all of them," the voice was saying. Male. Unfamiliar. "Well, almost all of them."

Fuck, Crymini must be going nuts.

A hand touched her and she leapt out of the way. She stood, legs apart in a defensive stance. A bomb in her hand, waiting to be lit. "Stay away from me!" She growled. "Who the fuck are you? Where am I?"

Get out of here. Get back to the Hotel.

Cherri Bomb's vision cleared. Her eye widened at what she was seeing.

"My name is Saint Peter," the angel told her. "Welcome to Heaven."

---

Week One, Day Two - Heaven Embassy, morning:

Vaggie stared up at the new doors of the new Heaven Embassy. It was not a more modest building than before, but it definitely felt more inviting. The lack of a giant hourglass and clock reminding everyone how long before Heaven came down to kill them again was a huge plus.

Vaggie remembered spray painting her thoughts about Lute, Adam and Heaven on the old building. The damn building self-cleaned, diminishing how cathartic her petty vandalism had been.

I literally helped build this thing. I've been back to Heaven on dates. One of my wives is the highest authority in Heaven. Why do I feel anxious coming here without either of them?

She was going to have to get over that. Preferably before her second therapy session.

She let out a breath. Here goes.

"Hello?" Vaggie asked as she opened the door and stepped into the reverent, churchlike interior.

The nave was nearly identical to the original Embassy, but the crossing was occupied by a circular desk identical to Emily's new desk in the Courthouse. And the ambulatory was lined with archways leading to the radiating therapy rooms. Each side of the transept contained meeting rooms which, hopefully, would soon see Sinners reuniting with their loved ones.

Vaggie spotted Carmilla Carmine sitting in one of the pews. It was the only one occupied, and it was occupied by two. Crymini was with her.

Why is Crymini with Carmilla Carmine?

Vaggie moved quietly to the pew and sat down next to Crymini. She dropped her voice. "What's going on? You okay?"

They were alone, but the place made Vaggie feel like she should be quiet. You were not supposed to talk in church.

"Cherri's dead," Crymini said, ears pasted back, a small growl in her voice.

Vaggie's heart squeezed. Before leaping to conclusions, or even trying to process, she needed to clarify. "Is she coming back?"

"I don't think so," Crymini answered, her growl rising. "She... she jumped into Sloth. And just fucking disintegrated!" Crymini turned to her, tears in her eyes. "I didn't even try to help. Like I was fucking frozen. The last thing I said to her was to shout at her for making me need brain bleach."

Vaggie sat and stared, stunned.

Sinners are confined to the Pride Ring. They can't exist down here, she had confessed to Emily the day they brought Razzle to St. An's. I wasn't certain we wouldn't blink out of existence when we ran through that portal. But I guess the rules are different for angels. Fallen or otherwise.

Carmilla's expression remained stoic, but she extended a comforting arm around Crymini.

"You should know, Valentino was killed last night," Carmilla told Vaggie. "Suspicion will fall on your hotel, and Cherri Bomb specifically. Obviously, that is inaccurate."

"Yeah. We, uh, saw the news." Vaggie returned her focus to Crymini. "Let's get you home. We need to tell the others."

"It was Roo shit," Crymini snapped.

Vaggie blinked and looked up at Carmilla, confused.

"Your friend's death occurred several hours before Valentino's assassination," Carmilla told her. "Your guests were investigating a gang house in the Doomsday District."

So how did you get involved?

Carmilla continued. "There was a Sign of Roo spray painted in the building, but I wouldn't read too much into it. Roo symbols are fashionable in some circles, much like dead Exorcist imagery. The demons who create them rarely have any connection to the real thing."

Vaggie frowned. Way to nail that home.

"You are more than capable of defending yourselves," Carmine stated. "But a vexed Overlord will not come at you straight on."

Crymini had gone quiet, save for little growls and hitches in the back of her throat. Her tail gave the rare thrash.

"Before I can offer any aid to the Hotel, Alastor will need to come to me and request it," Carmilla stated.

Vaggie's frown deepened. "Yeah, I don't see that happening."

"Neither do I, although he has surprised me in the past," Carmilla admitted. "However, I can provide assistance to Heaven's Embassy."

Vaggie's frown shifted to a smile. And if the Ambassador should then take what you have provided back to her home instead, that's not on you. Got it.

"Please let Emily know she has but to ask," Carmilla said. "Of course, I would strongly prefer our alliance be solidified first."

There was a moment of silence. Then Vaggie started to urge Crymini up out of the pew.

Carmilla said one last thing, her tone somber and genuine. "I am sorry for your loss."

The bell in the belltower rang out a clear, majestic note.

---

Week One, Day Two - Heaven's Promenade, morning:

Saint Peter guided Cherri Bomb down the golden street that formed Heaven's Promenade. Church organs joined with other instruments to create light synthetic pop that was energetic and uplifting. The song he sang was a familiar introduction, one he had sung for many new arrivals before.

"Welcome to Heaven, oh-ooh, where the virtuous reside
Twenty-four, seven. Oh-ooh! People are happy that they died.
Cause here we've got no worries, got no burglaries, no strife.
It's the perfect afterlife!"

Cherri Bomb walked next to him, arms wrapped about herself, looking around with more suspicion than wonder. Peter caught the change in the music. It was uncommon for a newly arrived soul to break into his welcoming number, but hardly unique. The fuzz guitar was, however, unexpected.

Cherri Bomb sang in reply,

"So I'm in Heaven? For real? I guess that explains the sun.
Is there no question? I mean, are ya forgettin' what I've done?
I mean I'm glad to be here. This is great, don't get me wrong,
But I haven't earned this song!"

Ah. She was hardly the first soul to question having been judged a Winner. Peter quickly set about reassuring her.

"Welcome to Heaven, oh-ooh! You deserve to be here.
You've learned your lesson. Oh-ooh! The wings and halo make that clear.
Your name's right there in my book, so you've clearly passed the test,
You can give yourself a rest."

Cherri Bomb looked at him dubiously. She flung her arms wide, dancing.

"I deserve Heaven. Oh.. kay? I guess that ya would know.
But come on, really? I blew up eight souls an hour ago.
A single act that's selfless, in one afterlife of shit?
Is there nothing more to it?"

Heavier kettle drum beats joined the fuzz guitar as the cyclopean angel took to the air and the music sank into an unexpected bridge, complete with a lyric structure change that threw Peter for a loop...

"And what explosive release
Is there in a realm of peace?
Will I become your problem if I can't be in the fray?"

...Made even more unexpected when other angels joined in as backup dancers as Cherri Bomb landed on one of the balconies over the Promenade, backlit by a billboard proclaiming Harmony.

"Fuck me, am I really here?
Am I gonna disappear?
I'm bent and bloody savage, I don't know if I can stay."

This was no longer his song, but Saint Peter swooped in to salvage it, taking the newcomer by her hands, and looking into her eyes. Shifting to a whole new rhyme pattern for the outro.

"You need not fear. You are safe here. Let go of your aggression.
Just give it time. I know you'll find that you will heal in Heaven."

With a sigh, Cherri Bomb hung her head. The fuzz guitar stopped...

"The man I love, is up here above, I strived for this ascension."

...then flared back, loud and aggressive, as she wrenched away from him, her voice taking on a rasp.

"Fuck this song, ya cunts got it wrong, I don't belong in Heaven."

---

Week One, Day Two - Emily's Office, Heaven, late morning:

Emily looked about her office, smiling. It was finally beginning to feel that way. Her office. The therapy certainly was helping with that. It has been a good session this morning. She summoned up an orb of light.

"Message for Mr. Rogers: Thank you so much for today! I look forward to next week. Blessings and joy, from Emily." She then instructed, "Deliver message to Carl in ten hours." That should ensure the message didn't interrupt anybody else's session.

The orb hovered up to the ceiling and waited patiently to deliver itself.

The new circular desk matching the one in the Embassy also helped. And with the Embassy construction finally complete, she would be using her office here and down there simultaneously. The her-sized chair helped a lot more. Also, having Sera in Hell and seeing her regularly... and seeing her happy. The office was free to feel like hers because Sera was somewhere else where she belonged.

Emily flinched a little at that thought. But no. After what Sera did, she really did deserve to be in Hell. She did not deserve to be in Heaven. But Sera was also her sister. Emily loved her. And wanted her to be happy. Mercifully, her fall gave her both.

Emily walked to the curving glass window looking out over the city. She reached to touch it, momentarily forgetting it was a massive, transparent computer screen. A pop-up window jumped to block her view, relaying data on the resupply of fresh vegetables for the restaurants along the Promenade.

Nothing that required her oversight. It was all automated.

Emily gave a little gasp, remembering her teeny commitment to herself. She danced over to the wall where the Celestial Environmental System interface was installed. And squealed to herself with glee. "Gonna make it rain!"

The screen flashed: Access Denied.

What?

"Um... Hello?" Emily giggled. "I'm the High Seraphim. This is my office. You are my terminal. What do you mean, access denied?"

She tried again, this time invoking a touch of Holy light.

Access Restricted to High Seraphim Sera.

Emily stared. Okay. "Sera isn't the High Seraphim anymore. Access the Golden Library. Confirm that I, Emily, am now the High Seraphim."

It took a few moments before the screen flashed: Verified.

"Now let me access the Celestial Environmental System."

Vocal code required.

Emily drooped. "Really, Sera?"

Emily was supposed to have been given access to everything when she took her sister's place. All the codes and locks and barriers were altered to respond to her automatically. Which meant Sera had put an extra lock on this system that wasn't on record.

Incorrect code.

Emily gave the interface a look. Okay, fine. Time to try to guess the password. What would be a good password?

"Sassafras?"

Incorrect code.

"Pumpernickel?"

"Calculator!"

"Parchessi?"

With each try, the same response: Incorrect code.

Now she was just disappointed with Sera. There was no good reason for a password not to be parchessi. It was a lovely word.

Emily huffed. Okay, something nobody would guess.

Pepperoni, Pineapple and Jalapeno Pizza! No, Charlie would guess that. Something more Sera-ish.

"Secret?" Emily tried.

Incorrect code.

"Do what is necessary!"

Incorrect code.

Ugh! Why was there an extra passcode on this system anyways? This was Heaven. Pretty much nothing had locks or passcode or anything. And her sister, who ran the Court, made an illegal one? "Sera is exasperating!"

Incorrect code.

Emily glared. "I'm exasperating!"

Incorrect code.

Emily collapsed backwards onto her desk with a groan. She wanted expletives. Good, strong ones like Vaggie would say in her special tongue that sounded so poetic. Instead, she closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands and made an adorable little scream of frustration.

Emily laid there for several minutes. It wasn't comfortable on her wings, but she endured. When she finally pulled her hands from her face and opened her eyes, Pravuil was towering over her, his bands of eyes spinning slowly.

"Gah!" Emily jumped and fell off her desk with a light thud.

"My apologies, High Seraphim Emily," Pravuil said, his voice reverberating out from within the center of those rings. "You requested that I bring to your attention anything within your duties that may have been forgotten."

Emily got up, brushing her Heavenly raiment sheepishly. "How much did you find?" Time to learn how bad she had been at this.

"Just this." The angelic scribe handed her a golden scroll. "This was misfiled. Your sister was aware of the misfiling and had it set aside to deal with later."

Oh. "Can you file it for me?" Emily asked. Her eyes widened as she saw the seal on the red ribbon was from the office of the High Seraphim. It was an official Proclamation.

"There is no appropriate place to file this document," Pravuil told her.

Emily blinked and opened the scroll. She recognized Adam's handwriting immediately.

FUCK YOU I DO WHAT I WANT!

"What?" Emily squeaked.

"The true Proclamation which was to be delivered to Lucifer roughly nine months ago never left Heaven. Instead, it would appear that Adam forged this alternate version which was more to his tastes." Pravuil managed to convey disgust without a single change in his detached and professional tone. "Which he then kept."

Emily felt her blood boil. She knew Adam had treated her wife badly in that meeting. But this was an egregious level of disrespect. And he was in severe violation of his duties, not content with the level of vileness that Sera had allowed.

"I will deal with this," Emily said coldly. "I would like a copy of the true Proclamation please."

Emily realized Pravuil had anticipated that request when he immediately produced the requested copy. She opened it and read, preserving the seal.

A short declaration. Three paragraphs. The first stated that the next Extermination had been moved up by six months. The second delineated the reason for the change: the assassination of an Exorcist while performing her duties. The third announced that the action shifted Hell's status from potential of insurrection to active threat of insurrection.

All signed and dated. With Sera's own signature.

Emily tasted the odd tingle of her own angelic ichor. She had bitten her tongue. It barely hurt and was already healing.

"Thank you, Pravuil. You are of immaculate service." Emily forced herself to give him the smile he deserved despite what she was feeling. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes," Pravuil said. "Your sister wished that I inform this office if we have any new souls arriving in an unconventional fashion..."

Unconventional? All souls appeared before the gates. Well, except one.

Unconventional like Sir Pentious being practically dropped into Sera's lap by a beam from the Throne. Something Sera took as a message from Above saying she was in trouble.

"You should be aware that another soul has ascended to Heaven from Hell."

---

Week One, Day Two - Hazbin Hotel Parlor, noon:

"I still can't believe it!" Charlie said, happy as she downed the last of her Sangria, extra ice. "First Sir Pentious, and now Cherri Bomb!" Her joy at the idea practically manifested in little hearts. "And they finally get to really be together!" She threw up her arms in celebration. "Ah! It's a miracle!"

Vaggie cautioned, "Let's not assume until we've heard from Emily."

"The bell rang," Angel Dust reiterated. "And it sure as shit wasn't ringing for Valentino."

They were all tired and worn and in the mood to celebrate, even if it might be technically premature.

"Want a fourth?" Husk asked Crymini as she finished off her third Old Fashioned. The puppy teen raised her hand to halt him.

"Nope," she slurred slightly. "I fucking want to remember that Big Sis is up in Heaven, giving those angels a taste of Na Na Na."

"I don't know what that means," Husk said. "But I'm impressed. Cutting myself off is a skill I'm just beginning to hone." The winged feline was sticking to coffee.

"I know what that means," Angel Dust said with a smirk. Then promised Husk, "I'll tell ya later."

"If she's an angel now, they're giving her Heavenly raiments and shit, right?" Crymini asked Vaggie. The moment the angel started to nod, the puppy demon jumped up. "I'm raiding her closet!"

Crymini was already off and halfway down the hall towards Cherri Bomb's room before anyone could muster a protest.

Angel Dust motioned for another round as he watched her go. "You think Cherri has access to all her bombs up in Heaven?" He paused. "I mean, Seviathan said the Other works up there. And she used her last angelic shrapnel bomb on Izzy, so it's not like they're dangerous to anyone up there. They'd practically just be fireworks now, right?" He looked to Vaggie for confirmation.

Charlie looked around. "Where's Alastor? I want to tell him the good news!"

Husk shrugged. "I suspect he's doing some poking about the upcoming meeting. He did say he believed Emily demonstrating how she can break a Deal is on the agenda. He would want to be sure." Husk drank from his coffee mug. "That said, I don't keep tabs on him like I used to."

Vaggie put her hands together. "That would pretty much be right. Not that she couldn't make a mess with them. Although if she's an angel now, I can't imagine why she would."

"Hello, because she's Cherri Bomb?" Angel Dust laughed. "Are you really going to tell me there are no angels in Heaven with violent tendencies?" He kept one eye closed as he said that to drive the point home.

"You... have a point."

Angel Dust's face fell. "Wait, does this mean I'll have to die to have a shot at redemption?"

Charlie's expression followed suit.

Husk growled. "Don't. I've already pulled Crymini back from that ledge..."

"I wouldn't be drawing any conclusions like that if I were you," Alastor said, manifesting among them. "Charlie, may I have a word in private? Your bedroom will do nicely."

---

Week One, Day Two - Cafe Magne, noon:

One look at Velvette told Lute this was not a clandestine meeting.

Of the Vees, Velvette was the only one that earned a modicum of her respect. Lute had less than zero interest in fashion or social media or any of the frivolous, transitory bullshit that came with the laughably mislabeled "culture" they fed into. But Velvette was no pop-culture puppet; she was the puppeteer. She tamed those wild forces and steered them to do what she wanted, holding their reins like she held the chains of the Sinners whose souls were controlled by mass media. Velvette was shrewd, ambitious and above all not stupid.

So when Velvette arranged a "social" meeting at a cafe practically designed for secret affairs and then chose an outdoor table in full view of the public, she knew exactly what she was doing. The new hairstyle and upscale gothic babydoll outfit, complete with veil, were meant to catch attention and project a message. Lute was guessing that message was: See how I'm clearly in mourning! Now fuck off.

Lute took a seat opposite Velvette. Then kicked the third chair a foot from the table for Niffty to scramble up on.

Niffty immediately grabbed the menu off the center of the table and began to read it. Or at least look at the pictures. Lute couldn't be sure. It wasn't a matter of questioning her literacy - the woman wrote bizarre lascivious fanfiction - just her level of interest.

"Order something," Velvette suggested without fully looking up from her phone. "You'll look less suspicious that way. Whatever you want. It's on me."

"Sure." Lute accepted that. She waited for her turn with the menu. She noted the laptop on the table and raised an eyebrow. In her experience, Velvette normally stuck to her phone.

"Project Impossible?" Lute asked, mostly as a formality. Get it out of the way so they could talk about whatever Velvette wanted to. Or be social, if that was really going to be a thing.

"Still impossible," Velvette reiterated in something approaching call-and-response.

"I want the matcha affogato!" Niffty announced, getting a raised eyebrow from Velvette.

Lute decided she didn't need the menu. "Make that two." She had no idea what that was. But she wasn't invested enough in food preferences in Hell to choose something different. As long as it didn't have angel listed in the ingredients, if it was good enough for Niffty, she'd give it a try.

"You trust goblin-girl with your order?" Velvette gave her a smile as she sent their orders through the cafe's app. "You are daring."

"Why wouldn't I?" Lute retorted. "I trust her with my food. So, why the social call?"

"Recent events have changed things," Velvette said bluntly. "Before we can hang out, I need to know: did anyone at that Hazbin Hotel kill Valentino?"

Hang out? Whatever. "And you're going to just take my word for it?"

"For now, yes," Velvette answered. "I intend to find out who did, and I need to narrow my search. You say no, I look at the other two on the short list. If I can't find the dirt on them, I'll circle back."

Lute held out a hand. "I know I'm new here, but I'm pretty sure the list of who would want to kill Valentino is much bigger than that."

"Yeah. But the number of those people who have either the expertise with explosives to ensure the angelic steel Val had in the truck would rip him to shreds, or the expertise and the angelic steel themselves to fake it? Whose gripe is recent? And who has the stones to come after an Overlord? Much less one of the Vees?" Velvette blew a derisive breath. "That's a much smaller list. And your bomb bitch is at the top."

Lute could believe that. "It wasn't anyone at the hotel."

Velvette nodded. "That leaves two other prime suspects to look into. Next up is the Union. Looks like I'll need to arrange a little visit."

"Why them next?" Lute asked. She didn't recognize the name, but that meant nothing.

"The who?" Niffty chimed in.

Velvette lowered her phone, looking into Lute's eyes through her black veil. "Because you don't go after the head of the table without a good idea you've got the right target first."

---

Week One, Day Two - Charlie's, Vaggie's and Emily's bedroom, noon:

"My, my," Alastor said, looking over Charlie's whiteboard. "You have been industrious."

Charlie stood to the side, fiddling with one of her markers, feeling anxious. Like a schoolgirl having her essay graded by the teacher.

"Not entirely correct, but you have avoided a lot of big mistakes," He told her.

His statement made her fret. She'd been so careful! She'd tried to be smart about it. What had she gotten wrong?

The radio static in Alastor's voice was subdued. "I'm rather proud of you."

Charlie felt her heart swell at that.

Alastor turned to her. First his head, then his body followed. He drew out his microphone staff, tossing it from one hand to the other. "You should know that I usually expect very little of people. And I plan accordingly. Rarely has that done me a disservice."

Alastor planted the staff in front of him, putting both hands over the mic. Flexing his fingers in a creepy, spiderlike manner. "You have exceeded my expectations. I fully expected you to have broken my confidence and brought your wives into this by now."

Charlie frowned. "You said this was too dangerous. I took that seriously."

"So I see," Alastor told her. "So now I'm telling you it is time to be open with them about it."

Charlie felt a rush of relief with an undercurrent of confusion. And suspicion. "Is it any less dangerous now?"

"Oh no," Alastor waved that off. The air filled with the ghost of canned laughter. He tilted his head, his eyes glowing. "It's gotten much more so."

"Then... then why should I bring Vaggie or Emily into this?" Charlie asked.

Alastor's smile broadened. "Because I'm going to reward you for doing such a good job with this." He reached out a hand. "Give me your marker."

Charlie nodded, handing it over. Alastor turned, pulling off the cap and leaning over to make a tiny note. Charlie watched, brow furrowing. Not because it was new information, but because it wasn't. While it wasn't explicitly written, it was understood.

At least seven

Sinners powerful on arrival
Disappeared 7 1/2 years ago from Hell
Coming back?

Alastor turned back to her, capping the marker and offering it back. "Now, Charlie. Tell me..." He tapped at the opposite column with his microphone.

Questions I'm forgetting to ask:
- Is the one I've never met the seventh missing person?
- Are the missing people who are not Horsemen related to the Horsemen?
- ?

Alastor's smile felt gentle. His tone patient. Fatherly. "...What is the other question you are forgetting to ask?"

Charlie stared, holding the marker.

A question she was forgetting to ask. One that Alastor's little addition was meant to jog. One that would cause her to talk to Vaggie and Emily about this, despite the warning that doing so would put them in extreme danger.

Charlie's eyes widened. She looked from Alastor to the board and back.

Alastor motioned for her to write.

Charlie uncapped the marker once more, moved forward, and bent down.

-Are there angels who disappeared from Heaven at the same time?

She looked back at Alastor, nervous, wanting to make sure she had the right question.

Alastor said nothing. But his smile told her she got it right.

---

Week One, Day Two - Heaven's Promenade, noon:

"OHMYGOSH! You make such a pretty angel!"

Cherri Bomb stumbled as Emily tackle-hugged her. "Hey, E!" She blinked. "Pretty?"

Emily's squeals of delight rang down the Promenade. "Ohmygosh! I knew you could do it! Mr. Pentious is so lucky. You've got to meet him. WELCOME TO HEAVEN!"

Cherri Bomb held up her hands. "Whoa, whoa... I've already gotten the song."

Emily let go, backing away only to grab her hands and pull her into a dance. "You are going to love it here!"

"That's sure what everyone keeps saying," Cherri Bomb replied.

Emily's dance came to a graceful stop. "Are you okay?"

"I just ended up in Heaven after dissolving because I tried to save an old lover from dying by an overdose deliberately induced by a bunch of fuckwads I blew up minutes earlier." Cherri Bomb's eye locked on as many of Emily's as she could. "What do ya think, mom?"

At least she could be straightforward. This wasn't any of these other angels. This was Emily. She was practically family.

"I... think we need to set you up with a therapist right away," Emily replied. "I'll see if Carl can take you too. He's the best."

---

Week One, Day Two - Cafe Magne, noon:

"The Union controls shipping between the Rings," Velvette told them. "Their legit business is simply that. And they have a monopoly. Over ninety-five percent of all inter-ring commerce flows through the Union. But what we were interested in is their more illicit smuggling."

"Such as?" Lute asked. Mostly to be polite. The matcha affogato was surprisingly refreshing. And if she was honest with herself, she wasn't hating this.

Velvette smirked. "An imp farmer in Wrath wants a blessing-tipped shotgun to fend off his neighbors? For the right price, the Union's got him covered. An Overlord wants an exotic poison from a plant in Greed?" The Vee laughed when Lute's eyes widened. "Yeah, you get it."

Niffty darted past, having become preoccupied with cleaning the other empty tables. Velvette had rolled her eyes and focused on Lute, despite addressing what had been Niffty's question.

Lute smiled a little. She was beginning to love how people underestimated her little friend.

Lute finished the last spoonful of her matcha affogato. "And Valentino had a trunk full of angelic steel because... either he was trying to set up a deal with the Union, or trying to skirt their monopoly and deal with a rival."

"Ha! And this is why I like you." Velvette grinned. "Got it with the first one."

"Maybe they didn't like our offer," Velvette conjectured. "Maybe Valentino got stupid and tried to fuck them over. Or maybe he did something else to piss them off. They're more than capable of pulling what happened last night." She added, "The Union doesn't really have rivals anymore."

"And you plan to see if you can finger them for Valentino's murder? I'm not the only daring one here." Lute leaned forward, curious now. "Tell me about them."

Velvette took the compliment. "Sure. Since you asked. Started up as an actual union of imps in the Greed Ring who seized control of the shipping company they worked for in, let's call it, a hostile takeover."

Lute could imagine the bloodbath.

"After fumbling around for a while, they got some serious backing. Some power player from Greed who has so far managed to keep themself concealed from my search engines."

"I'm surprised that's possible," Lute commented.

"It's not," Velvette told her flatly.

In other words, it took serious power to thwart Velvette in her element. Lute could tell the woman took it as a challenge. Lute could relate.

"Only thing I've been able to nail down on them is that after several years of pouring more into the Union than they could possibly have been getting back, they stepped away. Took a little vacay to find themselves or some shit," Velvette said. "The Union nearly collapsed. Then, after three years..."

"Seven and a half!" Niffty exclaimed, jumping up onto her chair again, grinning at Velvette with a frightening ferocity.

"What?" Lute asked.

Velvette's eyes darted between Lute and the tiny, maniacal woman. And then down at her phone. "No. As I was about to say, after three years, their power player returned. Apparently with a whole new business model. Because that's when the Union started getting aggressive."

Niffty looked a bit pouty at being dismissed.

Lute frowned. She looked at Niffty and back. "So the Union's backer was gone for three years, then the Union started eliminating or absorbing every other trans-Ring shipping business. How long ago was that?"

"About four and a half years ago," Velvette said. "It only took them... hold on. Did the goblin just...?"

Lute smirked.

"The backer is one of the top squares people!" Niffty cheered, celebrating her victory.

Velvette stared at Niffty, reappraising her. "Okay, you got me. What are the top squares people?"

Lute couldn't help but chuckle.

Niffty happily answered, "The people on Charlie's secret whiteboard!"

Wait, what?

"Okay. And do you know any other top squares people?" Velvette asked, actually focused on Niffty now.

The little maid nodded hyperactively.

"And who are they?" Velvette prodded.

"Alastor, Victor and Mom."

Lute's eyes narrowed. Seriously? Lute could almost feel the impacts as several pieces began to fall into place for her.

"Your mother is a top squares person on the Princess's secret whiteboard?" Velvette asked Niffty slowly, making sure she got that straight.

Lute lowered her voice. "Velvette, is the Union really just a shipping company? Not an army or something?"

Velvette nodded, clearly intrigued by Lute's tone. "Yeah. I mean, that's powerful enough."

"How powerful?" Lute pressed. "How not to be fucked with are these imps?"

Velvette rolled her eyes. "Well, the big thing is that over eighty percent of the food for Hell comes from the farms in Wrath, and the Union handles over ninety percent of that shipping." She holds out her hands. "Tldr, Union goes away, Hell starves. So very not to be fucked with."

Lute exchanged a look with Niffty. The little gremlin didn't get it. But that was okay. She did.

And Project Impossible might not be so impossible after all.

Hello, Famine.

---

Week One, Day Two - Hazbin Hotel second floor hallway, early afternoon:

Alastor opened the door and found himself facing Husk. The winged feline demon was leaning back against the wall opposite of Charlie's (and her angel's) bedroom.

"Ha ha!" The radio distortion climbed in Alastor's voice. "Trying to listen in on a private conversation, Husker. There's a reason I chose the room with soundproofing."

"We need to talk," Husk said with a glower. "Now I'm more than happy to let Charlie here be party to it. But that's up to you."

Alastor turned to see Charlie staring at the two of them, her concern on her sleeve but a discerning look behind her eyes.

"Well now, that depends on whether I can trust your discretion, Husker." Alastor's smile crackled. "Because I know I can't trust hers."

That got a huff from Charlie. But she didn't try to argue the fact. Not after telling practically everyone about the bullet.

Husk frowned a moment, then smiled. "I'll leave that up to Charlie."

Alastor watched as Charlie considered a moment. Her answer surprised him.

"Does this affect the mission of this hotel or the wellbeing of anyone in it other than Alastor?" Charlie asked.

Husk's eyebrows raised in surprise. He was clearly new to Charlie in dealing-with-Alastor mode. Alastor was almost flattered.

"Well, yes," Husk said after a moment.

"Then be as discreet as you need to be," Charlie said firmly. "I'm staying."

After a moment, she motioned them all into her bedroom. "Soundproofing," she said simply.

Oh she was doing well.

"You never believed in redemption," Husk stated, pointing at Alastor the moment the door was closed behind him. "And I happen to know why."

Alastor's eyes narrowed, accompanied by a rather soft hiss of static.

"Now your comment earlier has me thinking: there is exactly one who might be able to swing getting Cherri Bomb into Heaven without going through Judgment," Husk said, holding up a finger.

His words got a dismayed gasp from Charlie.

"And if He is back in play, I want to know about it. So tell me," Husk demanded bluntly, "Is Cherri Bomb's ascension legit?"

"Wh-what?! Wait... Alastor... What?!"

Alastor's smile thinned. He could hear the rising panic in every crack of Charlie's voice.

"No Charlie, we are not talking about God," he told her, brushing his lapel. "Not big G, anyway." He focused on Husk. "And that, dear Husker, is what I aim to find out."

---

Week One, Day Two - Cafe Magne, early afternoon:

"I'm coming with you," Lute announced.

Velvette leaned back. "Excuse me?"

"You're going to meet with the Union," Lute stated. "Those demons might have killed Valentino. You could use the backup."

"And why would you want to do that?" Velvette asked, eyes narrowing.

Lute shrugged. "I need to get out of the house. And if somebody starts a fight, I can finish it."

Velvette wasn't buying it.

Lute frowned, then admitted, "Plus, this may actually be a backdoor into Project Impossible."

"And how about your minder?" Velvette asked.

Lute looked at Niffty. "Want to take a trip to meet some scary imps?"

"YES!"

Well, that was easy. Lute looked back at Velvette with a smirk.

Velvette leaned back and assessed the two of them. After a long moment, she grinned. "You know, I originally had planned for this to just be a social call. Maintaining a contact inside the Hazbin Hotel. But hanging with hasn't sucked yet. So sure. You want to take the plunge with me? Let's do it."

"Planning to use more angelic steel as your bargaining chip?" Lute assumed.

"It's what we've got," Velvette admitted. "And thanks to you, we've got a lot of it."

Lute would have crossed her arms if she could. "It's what you asked for."

Velvette scoffed. "Woman, we demanded for a shipping container worth of angelic steel weapons." She leaned forward. "What you gave us was a solid block of angelic steel the size of a shipping container."

Niffty let out a soft "Woooah."

Lute looked askance. "It was easier."

Velvette laughed. "How?" The Queen Bitch of the Vees was nearly crying with mirth. "Good God, girl. It does not take that much to electroplate a bunch of weapons."

She stopped laughing, but the amusement lingered on her face, twinkling in her eyes. "Damn, this makes me wish I could get ahold of the scientist that Carmine cunt's got who figured out to make their fucking firearms work. We would own this town." Velvette finished off her drink. "Six-Degrees-Bee is on my bucket list."

Lute watched Velvette have a time with what she'd said. But it was true. "And that's how."

Velvette shot her a questioning look.

Lute rolled her eyes. She extended a hand in the direction of the Embassy. "You all saw what Heaven's technology is capable of. Do you really think we're at the level of swords and spears up there?"

Lute let out a breath. "You can thank Sera for any of you demons still being alive. Her and her insipid rule against letting anyone in Heaven know about the Exterminations," Lute told her. "Heaven has infinite raw materials of every kind. Including angelic steel. But turning that into weapons requires angels with the skill to do that. And none of them are Exorcists. We were essentially fighting with weapons that have been obsolete for millenia and were dumped into a storage shed that nobody guarded."

"That was," Lute amended, "Until the Court found out and the anti-Exterminations faction started locking that stuff down. It was literally easier to get that mass of raw material out of Heaven than it would have been to get a handful of knives."

Velvette was staring at her.

Oh yes. That was absolutely the right thing to have said. In public. In front of one of the people she had intended to murder less than two months ago.

Lute groaned. She put her hand to her face and sank into her seat. "Given how fucking evil we were being, it was for the best we were fucking hamstrung from the beginning."

"God, I'm a piece of shit," Lute muttered to herself. "So much for socializing."

There was a moment of silence. Then Velvette began to laugh.

"Woman, I am an Overlord in Hell. You think I give a shit that you've been evil?"

---

Week One, Day Two - Emily's Office, Heaven, afternoon:

"Missss Emily, you asked to ssssee me?"

Sir Pentious stopped half a slither into Emily's office, his eyes going wide as he saw who was sitting in the chair in front of the High Seraphim's desk. "Cherri Bomb?"

"What? How are you...?" It took a moment for him to really take in what he was seeing. The slight changes to her features. The halo. The wings. The Heavenly raiments. "Cherri!" In a moment he was across the room, embracing her. His hat was shedding tears of joy. "I knew you could do it."

"Y-yeah, everyone keeps saying that," Cherri Bomb said hesitantly, embracing him back. "Everyone but mmmMMMMm..."

Emily watched as Sir Pentious kissed her, dipping her back. The kiss was long and beautiful and left Cherri Bomb mussed and melted.

"We need to celebrate!"

"I-I think we just did!"

Emily bounced, beating her wings with joy.

"I mean a BIG celebration," Sir Pentious insisted happily. He held her, looking her over. "W-wow! Mrs. Bomb, you look..."

"Pretty?" Cherri Bomb ventured.

Sir Pentious blinked. "Who called you pretty?"

Cherri Bomb hooked a thumb towards Emily.

"Well, she lied," Sir Pentious said seriously. "Cherri Bomb, you are hot as holy fuck."

Cherri Bomb ripped a laugh.

Emily laughed lightly. "Well yes, but I wasn't going to say it like that."

"Mrs. Bomb, welcome to Heaven. Where would you like to go? What would you like to do?"

The welcome seemed to put a slight damper on her spirit. Cherri Bomb narrowed her eye. "I'd really like t' blow something up."

Emily let out a slightly nervous giggle.

"Of course," Sir Pentious said with a smile. "I'll talk to Al."

Emily froze.

Cherri Bomb blinked. Then began to grin.

"No!" Emily said firmly.

"Oh that's right. Ya know that cunt, don't ya!" Cherri Bomb managed a demonic look. "Introduce me, wouldja?"

"I'd be delighted," Sir Pentious proclaimed, wrapping an arm about her waist while his hat gave Emily a wink.

"Nooooooo." Emily sang in warning, only half-teasing back.

"He wassssn't part of that project, Misssss Emily," Sir Pentious said, flicking out his serpentine tongue at the distressed seraphim.

Cherri Bomb put an arm over his shoulders and leaned against him.

Emily let out a huff of exasperation and flopped over her desk as Sir Pentious swept Cherri Bomb out the door.

---

Week One, Day Two - Cafe Magne, afternoon:

"...Then I tried with Husk. It's natural! A chained soul falling for her Overlord? A jailor falling in love with his prisoner?" Niffty shot Lute a playfully frustrated pout. "But Lute said no to that one too."

"Maybe you should try shipping her with the right woman?" Velvette asked, teasing a scowl from both of them.

"I'm not into chicks," Lute stated firmly.

"Aww, you sure?" Velvette teased, batting her eyelashes.

"Extremely." Lute stared at her coolly, then rolled her eyes.

With, it seemed, the heavy topics dealt with, they had turned to lighter conversation. Lute was surprised to find herself enjoying the company of the demonic social media Overlord.

My standards have fallen.

Well, that was to be expected being chained to a bartender and living in a hotel prison with Vaggie and her demon princess. And the High Seraphim, because that made sense.

No. Stop lying to yourself. Your standards were never very high to begin with. You were just too self-righteous to see it.

It sucked knowing what she really was inside.

"So, how is life at the Princess' Hotel?" Velvette asked.

Lute contemplated her answer. "Ridiculous. Charlie is... well, she's getting better. But she is still the princess of crayons and trust falls, who actually believes in people being able to unfuck themselves with a little help and some friends." She sighed. "Which clearly works. Point to her."

So of course I tried to destroy it.

Fuck me.

Velvette seemed to pick up on her internal thoughts. "They treating you well? Being as you were the one of the Big Bad Exorcists. And not rank-and-file either."

"Yes. Even Vaggie." Her eyes narrowed and she couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Not that I'm a threat to her anymore. That's the worst part sometimes. I see Vaggie and I just want to wreck her shit. But I can't." Lute gives a frustrated wave. "And even if I could, I couldn't. The things I did to that woman. I'm the one who should be getting her shit wrecked."

"Awww, those bitches. They took away your stress toy!" Velvette teased. "Or did your conscience give it to them?"

"Both." Perfect description for Vaggie. Velvette just kept nailing it.

Velvette reached over to the laptop that had been sitting neglected on the table. "Well, you're in luck! Got something to show you." The woman in black grinned. "Been working on this since she slapped me."

"You're still going after Vaggie?" Lute stiffened, part of her feeling hopeful even as an alarm went off in her head. "I can't be part of that."

"Of course," Velvette tittered. "No participation necessary. You already paid for it, and your account's in the black for fucking ever." She leaned closer and purred, "Besides, I'm having fun."

Lute's gaze shifted between Velvette and the laptop. She wanted to know.

"Ha! I knew it." Velvette's smugness was cloying. "You can't torture her yourself, but you can totally jill off to watching me do it." She leaned close. "And you want to, don't you?"

What a repulsive way to phrase it. "Yes." Lute clarified, "Not literally."

"Sure." Velvette sat back, typed something into the laptop, and spun it around.

"What am I looking at?" Lute asked.

Niffty had the answer. She squealed in delight. "Shipping!"

"Aggregate website for amateur erotica centered on people in that hotel," Velvette clarified. "Backed by a bit of my magic. And an algorithm that prioritizes stories with Vaggie in them. The more demeaning, the better. Not that all the Vagyna porn doesn't already make her the go-to for smutty shipping."

"That... is unbelievably petty." Lute was simultaneously non-plussed and impressed. "And it's going to cause her so much distress." She couldn't keep the smile from her face.

"You're a bitch," Niffty told her. It was bizarrely non-judgmental. Lute got the feeling it would be an outright compliment if only she was the bad boy gender.

"Girl, I'm the Super Queen Bitch, and proud!" Velvette boasted.

"And here I thought that stood for Shortstack," Lute deadpanned.

Velvette shot her a look. Then snorted. "Just for that, it does. I am the Shortstack Queen Bitch."

Niffty grabbed the laptop, scrolling through the site, clicking links.

"Thought the goblin would like it," Velvette smirked. "Would have shown it to you sooner, but I wanted to wait until this beast had a life of its own. Writing takes a lot more time than making AI porn. But after a month, the site doesn't even need the writing prompts and contests. The depraved masses' urge to create this stuff has become self-sustaining."

Niffty was laughing.

"And with the easily available AI art, these shippers can have Vaggie doing anything with anyone for the cover art," Velvette told her. "Granted, nobody else has models as good - well, except for Angel Dust - so the images will be focused on your ex-enemy."

"Oooh, one of my stories is on here!" Niffty exclaimed excitedly. "I'm going to put up the others when we get back."

"Want to know how many stories ship Vaggie and you?" Velvette teased.

Lute pulled back. "No." But she couldn't keep the smile off her face. "But I want her to."

---

Week One, Day Two - Hazbin Hotel private room, afternoon:

Razzle fluttered over Sera's right shoulder, giving the fallen seraphim instructions as Sera's fingers danced across the ivories.

The light of a golden portal burst in the parlor just outside. The notes of Sera's piano practice wandered into Heaven.

As Emily stepped through, the younger seraphim stopped and marveled. Her big sister had been taking piano lessons from Razzle a few times a week for a little over a month now. And she was already playing whole songs. Simple ones, sure. But still, the progress was more than impressive. Clearly, Sera had thrown herself into this. Just as clearly, alacrity of learning was not a seraphim power she had given up.

"How was your day?" Sera asked without missing a key.

"Amazing! I have the MOST WONDERFUL NEWS!" Emily said with a bounce. Then let out a little huff. "Also, a little frustrating."

Sera's lips curled into a small smile. "Didn't find a way to accidentally lose your clothes?"

Emily gave her a much bigger huff. "I don't let that happen on purpose!"

"But you do let it happen," Sera teased as she changed keys from G to F-sharp.

Emily fluttered up. "Razzle, tell her to stop teasing the Ambassador!"

Razzle did no such thing.

Emily stuck her tongue out at both of them. Then sat on the piano, kicking her feet as she listened to Sera play.

"Would this news have to do with Ms. Cherri Bomb?" Sera asked as she shifted keys once again.

"Yes. How did you know?"

Sera smiled. "Your bell works."

Emily let out an elated gasp!

"I shall miss being called Mrs. Genocide." No she wouldn't.

She waited through a few chord changes before broaching the cause of her frustration. "There's this little change that I've been trying to get passed."

"You? Changing things in Heaven?" Sera was still teasing. Without, Emily noted, even a hint of disapproval or judgment. No concern that Emily wasn't doing things the way her big sister had. Just... teasing.

So Emily teased back, "I've decided that all the clouds should be made out of cotton candy." She hadn't.

"Sounds sticky," Sera said lightly.

Emily tried again, "And announced Bunny Suit Day."

Sera gave a mild chortle. "You'll definitely make a lot of angels happy with that." She shifted to playing in C-sharp at Razzle's direction. "How will the ears work with their halos?"

Emily giggled. "Actually, I had the same worry when I wore one. But my bunny suit's ears and tail are like magical holograms, so I just turned them off."

"So I've heard." Again, no judgment. Just acceptance.

Emily sighed. Sera won. "Okay, fine. Actually, I've been trying to arrange for Heaven to experience light showers..."

Sera's fingers hit a wrong note. Followed by a cessation of music altogether.

Emily slowed, looking at her sister with concern. But she did not stop. "...but there are restrictions that need a key code from the High Seraphim to get a weather change passed? A code I don't have?"

Sera's expression became hard.

Emily felt like an alarm was sounding inside her. "Sera?"

"No," Sera told her, in the tone she only used for The Most Dire Things.

"No?" Emily felt annoyed. She was the High Seraphim now, and her sister was keeping a code from her that she needed to do her job?

Keeping more secrets from her?

But even as that idea birthed a bit of anger, it was overwhelmed by apprehension. Something was wrong.

Sera stood up. "I need to go lay down. Razzle, I hope we can continue this later."

The little goat demon looked concerned too. He nodded even as she walked off.

As Sera reached the hallway, the door to one of the unoccupied rooms clicked and swung open.

"Thank you, Keekee," Sera said.

Emily debated on if she should follow.

---

Week One, Day Two - Hazbin Hotel parlor, late afternoon:

With a groan, Emily plopped onto the couch next to Vaggie and laid down.

Vaggie lifted the book she was reading, surprised to suddenly have a lap full of wife.

"Hello to you too," Vaggie asked. "What's this?"

"Done for the day," Emily insisted. "Sera's being weird, and I'm giving her space." For now. "I just want to lay here and stare up at you while you sit here being wonderful and hot."

Vaggie tensed slightly, eyes darting to see what looks they were getting. But Angel Dust just gave her a smile. And Crymini had her earbuds in. She was wearing one of Cherri Bomb's halter tops like a sash and petting Keekee. The cyclopean cat was staring. Vaggie relaxed with a chuckle.

"Okay, nope," Vaggie told Emily with a soft smile as she set her book aside. "The day's barely half over, and you have places you need to be."

Emily gave her a puppy-eyed look that Vaggie was certain she must have learned from Charlie.

Seriously, do they practice together?

"For starters," Vaggie said, "Charlie wants to see us both up in the bedroom now that you're back."

"Oooooh!" Emily said excitedly.

Vaggie chuckled. "Sorry, love, but I don't think it's for that this time. She sounded serious."

Emily pouted. Then reached up and made cute grabby motions. "Carry me there?"

Pfft! Vaggie could not help but laugh. "Why?"

"Cuz you're a big, strong angel!"

"I'm smaller than you. And you're a seraphim."

"Pweeeese?"

Vaggie caved with a sigh, slipping her arms underneath Emily, careful not to crimp her wings. She stood up, holding her angel. "How did this become my life?"

"Because you love us and we love you!" Emily said with a bright cheer as Vaggie started walking.

"Yeah, that would be it."

---

Week One, Day Two - Charlie's, Vaggie's and Emily's bedroom, late afternoon:

Charlie had decided to tell them almost nothing. Yet. Part of her yearned to. But somehow, Alastor's permission to do so made her less inclined to pull the two women she loved into this, not more. So she just posed the question:

Are there angels missing from Heaven? Angels who disappeared seven and a half years ago?

"At the same time your mom called in her Favor to get into Heaven?" Vaggie pondered aloud. "You think there may have been some sort of trade?"

"I'm not sure what I think yet," Charlie answered. "I promise, I'll tell you more when I know what I have to tell. For now, it's just a hunch."

Vaggie nodded, accepting that.

"I could check," Emily offered. At first, she had been shocked by the question. Of course Heaven didn't lose angels. The very idea was alarming.

But then Emily had remembered that there were Exorcists 'missing' because they died attacking the Hazbin Hotel. One went missing in the previous Extermination, killed by Carmilla Carmine. And she hadn't known. "Although if the angels don't have names..." Emily fretted.

Charlie moved to her. "Hey, don't worry about it like that. Just... ask. Discreetly. It's probably nothing, and I don't want to alarm anyone. I just want to get the question out of my head." She smiled at Emily. "Okay?"

Emily nodded.

Vaggie noted, "If not dead, or some sort of exchange... then what? I have a hard time imagining an angel slumming it in Hell without being noticed." She didn't even need to see the look that got from Charlie. "No, I don't. That is extremely easy for me to imagine."

"Slumming it, huh?" Charlie prodded, crossing her arms. She was teasing. After seeing Heaven, she knew most angels would be unimpressed with Hell. Just as she knew Vaggie did not feel that way herself. Still, she let Vaggie fret and blush and stammer in negation a few seconds before kissing her on the forehead. "I know what you meant."

Charlie changed the topic. "So! Cherri Bomb!"

"YES!" Emily cheered, excitedly.

Charlie smiled brightly, but her happiness was marred by Husk's words. "So, how soon can we see her? And how is she doing up there? Is she okay?"

Emily smiled brightly back. "She's not acclimating yet, but she's with Mr. Pentious. And I've gotten her a session with Carl." Whether that would lead to more was a matter between the angel and her therapist. "So I think she's going to be okay."

With a self-mocking chuckle, Emily added, "As long as she doesn't destroy Heaven."

"What?" Vaggie and Charlie asked in chorus.

"You are joking, right?" Vaggie hoped.

Emily rolled her eyes. "Mr. Pentious is introducing her to his friends. Including Al."

Charlie's heart danced happily.

Vaggie frowned. "Al," she said slowly. "Al... bert Einstein? Cherri Bomb is talking to Albert Einstein. Um... Emily..."

"It will be fine. I checked," Emily reassured her with a smile. "But, yeah, I had the same first reaction."

---

Week One, Day Two - Vees Tower, evening:

Vox sat in his chair watching reports fly across multiple monitors, the numbers rising or dropping. But of all the statistics before him, the one that stuck with him the most in this hour was an old one.

The day was almost over. It had been equal parts exhilarating and aggravating. Reacquisition Day always would be, even with his efforts to streamline the process. He checked the retention numbers again.

The beeps and chimes of the electronics around him flowed into sync with an electronic backbeat as a synthetic riff rose to a crescendo and plateaued.

"The majority of victims of domestic abuse
Will return to their master or seek further misuse.
At the hands of another, a different noose.
So broken there's hardly a need to seduce."

It was not so much a song as a chant to the percussion-heavy synthwave flowing around him and through his head.

"The statistics for Contracts are roughly the same.
When you sell your soul, why is the buyer to blame?
The truth is that when they're released from the reins,
Most come groveling back begging for a new chain."

Vox stood, looking at the screens that encircled him. Market analysis of the souls that had once been bound to Valentino. The mere fact that Reacquisition had been triggered told Vox for certain what every other Overlord was scrambling to ascertain.

Valentino was quite permanently dead. But his Contracts, most of them at least, were not up for grabs. The Vees had a better way of doing business.

"Few Sinners will sell for an immediate fix.
They want power, protection, a better Netflix.
Things they've come to depend on and can't bear to lose
Frightened by what they see on the evening news."

"If we don't pursue them, they'll bang down our doors.
Every Overlord's a pimp in a town full of whores.
But a least here you'll never be lost to the breeze
A benefit of Contracting with one of the Vees."

Valentino was a terrible man to be enslaved to, but most of his Contracts didn't suffer the brunt of his attention. And even those who did were often eager to stay in the same place under different management.

The synth music barely changed, just adding a few melodic notes for Velvette to play off of as she entered the room. Vox noted that she didn't even glance up from her phone as she slipped into a chorus,

"Click to subscribe. Answer yes to proceed. The fine print's in a link if you just care to read.
Really what is your soul as a price to be paid compared to the Deals that you've already made?"

Vox chuckled. How very Velvette.

His own rap continued.

"We've streamlined the process, included a Clause,
Who owns who changes swiftly if one of us falls.
It's all spelled out for you in the EULA,
You scrolled past so that you could sign your soul away."

Vox tossed a new data chart onto one of his screens. Reacquisition had hit 74% and was still climbing. Most of that was from the first hour or the day. The Reacquisition Clauses on the newer Contracts were effectively automatic. It was the older ones that took active pursuit.

And now the rabbits were scurrying. They were going to lose the top 20% of Valentino's Contracts. Souls who didn't renew. Some of them would try to exist on their own in Hell. Most would probably scramble to other Overlords at the first disaster. A few might even come back through the doors of this tower.

Velvette reached his chair, taking selfies between lyrics.

"Dress to impress for your dopamine needs. A vicarious life through social media feeds.
Just click to accept, there's no need to discuss, since you're on life support that you're renting from us."

"Boast that you're free, I'll support your denials, feeding algorithms with your posts and profiles.
Really what is your soul as a price to be paid compared to the Deals that you've already made?"

The synthwave music slowed and grew heavy as Vox sat back down, steepling his hands before the screen of his face as he delivered the outro.

"The Vees are an empire forged by your decisions,
To give all you are for your wants and ambitions.
And I give the best deals to all of my viewers,
Because the real commodity is the consumers."

The music broke into scattering echoes. He turned to face Velvette. On her phone, as always.

"And where have you been, Velvette darling?"

"Out," she told him flatly. "I needed some fresh air."

"Yes. So much of that in Hell." Vox frowned. "I'm sure being over twenty thousand Contracts richer is such a burden."

She gave him a look. "Fine. I'm trying to find out who offed your boytoy. If someone's coming for the Vees, don't you think it would be smart to know who?"

Vox turned away. Back to his screens. "Oh, I already know." He didn't see her roll her eyes.

One by one, the screens flickered. The one centered in front of him showed the Hazbin Hotel. Most of the others were less clear, lines of distortion disfiguring the man they attempted to capture on video.

---

Week One, Day Two - Rosie's Emporium, evening:

The late evening breeze rustled the tablecloth of the tea table behind Rosie's Emporium. The crimson sky was darkening to the shade of dried blood.

Rosie sipped at her evening tea, enjoying the fragrance brought from the leaves. And enjoying the company.

"Well, I suppose that is a final nail in the coffin. I'll admit I was surprised that you didn't take him out yourself, Alastor," Rosie noted. "Bad blood and all."

"Ah, yes, well sometimes it is taken out of your hands," Alastor replied casually, sipping his own coffee. "When it comes to our little arrangement, it would seem a third of the work has already been done for you."

Rosie gave Alastor the sort of smile you give to a snake oil salesman who happens to be your father-in-law. They both knew Vox and Velvette had just become significantly more dangerous.

Soon, Alastor had told her over a month ago, we will need someone powerful enough to take down not just one, but all three of them. Permanently. I'd like that someone to be you.

Rosie sipped at her tea.

With the Vees gone, there will be more than enough power within your grasp to make up for the loss of mine, Alastor had said.

They both knew the reason taking on the Vees was an all-or-nothing power grab.

"Which reminds me, were you able to get what you needed from Izzi's corpse?"

"Oh yes," Rosie said. That was over a month ago. He was just making idle conversation. Unusual for him. But not exceptionally rare when they were alone.

"And the young man you sent to me?" Rosie asked in return. "Why not make that Deal yourself?"

Alastor took another sip. "My personal affairs are moving more quickly than expected. Unrelated to Valentino, I assure you. But the timing couldn't be more auspicious. Right now, it does me no good to take on more Contracts."

Oh. There it was, then.

Rosie contemplated that in silence as she and Alastor continued to enjoy their drinks.

---

Week One, Day Two - Hazbin Hotel parlor, night:

Charlie wasn't actually asleep. She was just... resting her eyes. Yes. Dozing may have been involved at multiple points.

She could hear the others talking softly, not wanting to wake her. That was nice. The couch was comfortable and most of them hadn't gotten any sleep the night before.

Vaggie and Emily had gone upstairs. They might be asleep already. She would join them, but it would take too much energy to get up and walk up the stairs to the bedroom. The couch was fine. She'd lay here until she got the energy to go to bed.

Belphegor would be proud.

Charlie smiled, imagining they were not sleeping. She hoped so. The images her mind conjured of them not sleeping made her want to sing.

Charlie heard Angel Dust at the bar, rolling a tipped over glass on the counter. He had crashed shortly after noon and was now tired but wide awake. "My sleep schedule is going to be a disaster by this weekend. Just in time for Molly."

"You know," Husk said, "We could put off our little trip." He was sitting on a bar stool next to his friend. No one was behind the bar tonight. Husk was taking a night off.

Angel Dust shook his head. "She's expecting us to be doing something," he said. "Plus, with a chance that the Vees are going to target us? I want to get my sister well away from the line of fire. Ideally, out of Pentagram City entirely."

"Well, that's the..." Husk was interrupted by a knock on the door. "...plan."

Charlie's eyes opened.

"Want me to get that, or you?" Angel Dust offered.

"Can you avoid greeting them with a come-on?" Husk asked.

"No promises."

Husk made a noise and slipped off his stool.

Charlie sat up. Her coat, which she had been using for a blanket, slipped off onto the floor. "I've got it!"

She could feel her hair was a little mussed from having passed out on the couch, but she patted at it as she pushed herself up and made for the door.

"Welcome to..." Her eyes widened. "...the Hazbin Hotel."

I know her. I have definitely seen her before. I remember... her breasts. Oh yeah, I have definitely seen her breasts. I need to stop staring right now.

Those thoughts flashed through Charlie's head in roughly five seconds, her face blushing bright red, as she took in the unnecessarily voluptuous, purple-furred vixen.

Charlie quickly turned away with an abashed wave, leaving the demonic vixen room to come inside.

"Vanexa?" Angel Dust asked. Because he knew her. Of course he knew her. Charlie knew that.

Angel Dust got up, moving towards her. "What are you doing here?" Followed by, "Are you all right?"

The demonic vixen looked to each side before asking, "Is this where I can find Husker?"

Charlie closed the door behind her. She could see Vaggie and Emily coming down the stairs. Did someone ring the doorbell for them?

"That would be me," Husk said. "I don't know you though. Someone that hot, I'd remember." He was already moving around to the back of the bar. "Need something to drink?"

Vanexa responded, "I need a new Deal."

Husk froze.

What? Okay, people were coming to the hotel to make Deals with Husk now? When did that start? Charlie felt like her nap-fogged brain was trying to catch-up.

"So it's true then," Angel Dust said, a smile of relief slowly etching itself across his features. "Valentino really is dead."

---

Week One, Day Two - Hazbin Hotel parlor, approaching midnight:

Charlie watched as Husk pitched the Hazbin Hotel as part of a packaged deal - or rather, Deal - if Vanexa really wanted to sell her soul to him.

Which made no sense to her. In her own experience, people made Deals to get something. And the demonic vixen hadn't spelled out anything she would be getting from the Deal. Vanexa just wanted to be chained. And the fact that Husk wasn't questioning this a lot more was throwing Charlie for the proverbial loop. Possibly many loops. A loop-parade.

Charlie was very tired. And this was very strange. "This is strange, right?" she asked nobody in particular, needing a second opinion.

Husk was using the vixen's desire for a Deal to urge Vanexa to stay at the Hazbin Hotel and give redemption a shot. A new guest... with a chain as an enticement?

Emily made a little choked sound that told Charlie her seraphim wife wasn't processing this any better. Charlie moved to take her hand.

Vaggie stepped close. "Uhh, Charlie? I'm trying really hard not to be jealous here. But you keep trying to look anywhere but the sexy vixen. You are redder than the sky. And you're not attempting to pitch the hotel yourself. What's going on?"

"Oh, Charlie's seen her naked," Angel Dust offered unhelpfully. Charlie shot him a glare.

"What?!" Vaggie asked sharply.

Charlie gave Angel Dust a pleading help me look. And got a big NOPE of a smirk back.

Emily rescued her. "Vanexa worked for Valentino at his porn studio." Lovely, wonderful Emily.

Angel Dust mouthed a playful How could you? at Emily.

Charlie chose to ignore that.

"I've seen her topless too," Emily continued, getting a jolt from Vaggie. "So have you. She was there when Izzi attacked. I'm glad she survived."

The tenseness in Vaggie's shoulders drained. "Oh. I... don't remember her."

"She was in the crowd that trampled me," Emily said. "I only remember because I remember everything when I try to. Seraphim memory."

The young seraphim fretted. "Should... Charlie, should this be something we're letting happen?"

"I trust Husk," Charlie replied simply.

"Wait, so she had a Contract with Valentino. And now she wants one with Husk?" Vaggie frowned. "And... for nothing? That's... what?"

Validation. Charlie smiled a little. Her smile faded as Husk conjured a Contract for Vanexa to sign. It was completely blank.

Husk isn't even writing down his side of the agreement. Nothing about staying at the hotel.

She felt pleased with Husk for that. He wasn't taking advantage. Or, at least, not setting an advantage in ink.

What does that mean, exactly?

Vanexa wrote her name.

There was no fancy light show beyond a few motes of black and red in familiar shapes: spades, clubs, diamonds and hearts. They danced around the hands of the winged feline Dealmaker and the former porn vixen as they sealed the Deal.

The parlor was filled with a brief flash of light as Emily took her full Seraphim form, watching in a mix of awe and horror. "It's like there's no substance to the chain," Emily whispered. "I'm watching it be forged and I can barely see it. But she's... his now."

"Name one other person who would do that," Vaggie continued to question. "Why would anyone do that?"

A familiar voice from beneath Vaggie answered happily.

"Because I like being forced."