Chapter Text
“And your redemption is our guarantee!”
Charlie stood behind a podium in the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel, surrounded by her colleagues and a modest gathering of sinners. She shot the group a pair of finger guns, then realizing some of the more violence-inclined individuals might get the wrong impression, quickly turned them into thumbs-up.
“Or your money back!” chimed in Angel Dust.
“No! No money back!” she quickly corrected. “Because you can stay here for free! And so long as you put in the work, we promise to do everything we can to help you.” She gestured around her. “Now please, mingle! Get to know one another! Have a drink! And if you feel like the Hazbin Hotel is the right fit for you, you can fill out an application at the bar. Our bartender will be happy to assist you!” Husk gave a half-hearted wave with his bar rag.
The princess beamed proudly as she watched all the potential hotel guests. There had to be at least twenty, that was twice as many as last week! Cherri was here again, and seemed to actually be chatting with some of the other sinners rather than just hogging Angel’s attention and mooching some free booze. She recognized a few folks from Cannibal Town too. And was that one of Velvette’s fashion models? She was practically bouncing from hoof to hoof in excitement.
“You did good, Charlie,” called Husk from behind the bar. He was serving a lizard demon a shot of whiskey, who snatched an application with his long tongue before scurrying away. Husk cracked a grin. “Word is really getting around.”
“We did good. I couldn’t have done this without you guys.”
It’s been three weeks since they defeated Adam and his exterminators. Not even a day after rebuilding the hotel, they got a new tenant. Two days later, they got another. With a fresh dose of motivation, Charlie kicked their marketing strategy into overdrive. It was her idea to host these weekly socials. Come for the free alcohol, stay for the cleansed soul, that was the slogan on their new flyers. Business was growing steadily. They were nearly at half capacity now and she couldn’t be happier.
“I’ve gone on week-long benders and these open houses are more exhausting than that.” Angel flopped down on a barstool, and before he could say another word, a drink was in his hand. He took a long swig and pointed the glass at Charlie. “I got leads on that lizard guy and Miss Fake Tits over there. One likes to diddle themselves in public and the other choked their high school cheer captain with her own hair extensions. I’ll have you guess who is who.”
“Oh boy,” she groaned. “Well, I guess it’s about time we covered sexual harassment in our daily workshops. And, err… hair safety.”
Angel rubbed his temples with two hands while sipping his drink with another. “If we weren’t so short-staffed, this would be-” Husk shot him a look and he immediately clammed up. “Oof. Sorry, Charlie.”
The princess smiled sadly at the two men. “It’s okay. I know I’ve been asking a lot of you guys lately. It’s not as easy with just the five of us.”
A week after the battle, her father had handed her a golden envelope, as perturbed by its delivery as she was. The message simply read Greetings from heaven! -Sir Pentious. She didn’t believe it at first, assuming it was some cruel joke. But her father assured her there was no duping an angelic telegram. And after a few awkward phone calls and a care package of Niffty’s famous crack cookies (they’re addictive like crack, they’re not actual crack, Charlie had assured them), the angelic council confirmed it. Sinners could be redeemed.
Her rapport with heaven wasn’t exactly great. They were pretty pissed about Adam (in principle, no one seemed to actually miss the guy) and there was still the matter of the yearly exterminations. Sinners fighting back didn’t exactly break the eons long pact but it definitely made things more complicated. Heaven had agreed to welcome any redeemed sinners and was even considering abolishing exterminations altogether, but they wanted more proof first.
Charlie needed to build a good working relationship with her angelic peers, but her father could only call in so many favors to get her through heaven’s gates. Plus, she insisted on being hands-on with the day-to-day of the hotel. She needed an ambassador. Unfortunately, the only person up there who would vouch for her was Pentious, and she couldn’t ask him to risk eternal paradise for that.
Then one night, Vaggie had sat her down, took her hands in her own, and told the princess that she would go. Charlie brushed her off at first, telling her they’d figured something else out, but her girlfriend’s mind was already made up. She was an angel herself. She knew how to deal with them. And someone had to try to reason with Lute about the exterminations.
So Charlie let her go.
She knew in her heart that’s how things would eventually end. Hell was her home. There was no redemption for her. But Vaggie deserved better. She belonged in heaven.
So they parted ways and dimensions as friends. With Vaggie as her angelic ally, Charlie was even more confident that they could convince heaven of what the Hazbin Hotel could do.
But with just five of them – herself, Husk, Niffty, Angel (who technically wasn’t even staff), and Alastor – they were stretched increasingly thin as more tenants came in.
“It’s more like the four of us,” complained Angel. “That smiley freak hasn’t lifted a finger to help out since we built this place. Where the fuck even is he? I haven’t seen him at a single one of these shindigs.”
“Beats me,” Husk replied, clearly unbothered by the radio demon’s absence.
Charlie pursed her lips, determined not to let her happy demeanor crumble. Alastor’s lack of engagement lately had been duly noted. It all started when he bailed in the middle of their battle with the exterminators. Every time she’d start to think that her business partner did actually care about what she was trying to do here, he’d do something to remind her that he was untrustworthy. The whiplash between his feigned loyalty and flakiness was getting tiresome.
Come to think of it, the only time she’s seen him in the past three weeks was when he popped up to show everyone that he was still alive. The jerk hadn’t even thanked her for rebuilding his radio tower.
He had always come through for her before, in his own twisted way, and she tried not to feel hurt at his lack of support now. But even if he was ignoring the needs of the hotel, she was surprised he wasn’t showing face just to harass the new guests. Sure, her father was now staying here too, but he was doing his best to let Charlie run things on her own.
“You know what? You’re right, Angel. Alastor should be here. I’m gonna go check on him. Can you guys handle things down here?”
“We got it, princess.” Angel downed the rest of his drink and hopped off his bar stool before disappearing back into the crowd.
Husk nodded towards the slowly growing stack of applications on the bar counter. “Tell that lazy prick when he gets down here that he can start working on those.”
Two elevator rides and one staircase later, Charlie found herself in the corridor that led down to Alastor’s radio tower. The air was cold and stagnant and she hugged herself to ward off the chill that passed through her. Identical guest room doors lined both side of the hallway. They were all vacant and the quietness that surrounded her was unsettling. This wing of the hotel had yet to have any occupants besides Alastor himself. She wasn’t sure how many people would want to stay in such close proximity to the radio demon.
Tap tap tap-tap. Charlie knocked a rhythm on the radio tower’s door. “Alastor?” she called out. “Are you in there?” She waited a moment then rapped the door again. No answer. She leaned down to inspect the eerie green glow that pulsed under the door frame. He was definitely inside.
Her hand went to the door knob and she was surprised to find it unlocked. Hesitantly, she pushed the door open, poking in just her head to call the radio demon’s name again. She was greeted with nothing but a low, staticky hum in the air. She stepped inside quietly, eyes scanning the various accoutrements with which Alastor had decorated the room. An alligator skull that was missing the bottom part of its jaw, a set of straw effigies, a portrait of a headless man holding a trumpet (how did he play it without a head?), various bundles of paper rolls that looked like they were meant for a player piano. This was the first she was seeing the room since they had rebuilt the hotel.
It had been mostly an empty space then, save for the radio console she had conjured up with her own magic. She didn’t know why she bothered to build the radio tower at all. At the time, they all thought Alastor was dead. Maybe the hotel didn’t feel complete without it. Or maybe there was a part of her that knew he wasn’t really gone.
In front of the radio console was a plush reading chair, which she was pretty sure belonged in one of the guest rooms down the hallway. (Really, Alastor? If he wanted one of his own, he could have just asked.) The “on air” indicator light was flashing green. Each time it pulsed, it illuminated the pair of antlers sticking out above the chair and a clawed hand digging into the armrest.
“Al?” Charlie called out.
She was suddenly pushed back by an invisible force that swept around the room, lighting the various candles and desk lamps scattered about. Jazz music broke the silence. Its melody contorted in an atonal screech that sounded like someone was beating the clarinet player with a brick. Charlie let out a startled “oof!” as she was spun around. When she looked back up, Alastor was in front of her, one hand on his hip and the other propped on the arm chair.
“Charlie!” he greeted, the radio filter in his voice cracking sharply. “I didn’t hear you come in. Or knock. Or know you were stopping by at all. And yet here you are invading my private space. What can I do for you, my dear?”
“Uhh, I did knock,” Charlie shot back. “And your door was unlocked. We missed you at the welcome party for the new tenants tonight. And last week. And the week before that.” She crossed her arms. “I came here to check on you. Where the hell have you been, Alastor?”
“Ah, I forgot that little soiree was tonight. I do apologize for my absence. I suppose I haven’t been a very good host lately.” His warbly tone told her he wasn’t the least bit sorry at all. “But don’t you worry your half-angelic little head about me. I’ve just been busy.”
“Busy with what, exactly?”
“Stuff, my dear. Things.” His grin stretched wide and Charlie knew the man well enough to know that smile wasn’t sincere. Most weren’t. He gestured towards the door and she couldn’t help but notice how his eye twitched when he moved. “I assure you this hotel is still my top priority.”
“Uh huh.” She also noticed he hadn’t moved from his spot against the chair, and the chair itself seemed to be the only thing keeping him upright. “You know my dad doesn’t go to these things, if that’s the reason why you keep bailing on us. I asked him not to. Figured it would be a bit too much for folks to see the king of hell himself on their first day at the hotel.”
“A wise decision. His presence is grating at best.” Alastor still had his arm outstretched towards the exit. Charlie studied him for a moment. The longer he stood there, the more he looked strained. The hand on his hip clenched into a fist. “Are you sure you’re okay, Al?”
“As peachy as a pie eating contest in Georgia.” He stepped towards her and put a hand on her shoulder, spinning her to face the door.
Charlie let out an exasperated sigh. “Alright fine, but you need to show your face to the new tenants at some point! The hotel’s half full now, and with Vaggie gone, I need your-”
They had only made it a few steps when Alastor hissed and sunk his claws into Charlie’s shoulder.
“Ow! Alastor, what the f-“
Charlie was so sick of his nonsense. She whipped her head around to glare at him, having half a mind to give him a good slap. What she saw instantly dampened her anger. He was doubled over in pain, clutching his chest. His fingers twisted in the dark stain that rapidly bloomed on his dress shirt, which she realized was his own blood.
“Holy shit, what happened?!” The princess surged forward to catch Alastor as he stumbled. She slung an arm around his waist for support and guided him back to the reading chair. “Did Niffty finally snap and shank you?”
He gave a gurgled laugh as he sank back into the tufted cushion. “Just a little paper cut. Nothing for you to concern yourself with.” He motioned tiredly to the door. “You were just leaving, yes?”
Charlie didn’t move. This wasn’t just nothing. The man who she thought was near limitless in power was slumped in front of her with his chest split open. Few managed to lay a single finger on the radio demon, let alone be able to leave him in a state like this. Had he and her father gotten into a spat? No, her father wouldn’t do that. He might despise Alastor but he loved Charlie too much to maim her business partner. But who else in all of hell was powerful enough to harm the radio demon?
Her eyes widened in realization. “Adam,” she whispered. “That’s from your fight with Adam, isn’t it?”
Alastor’s brow furrowed in annoyance, his smile tense. “I told you it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“Alastor, that was three weeks ago! You’ve been letting an angelic wound fester for that long?!” Guilt flooded her conscience. All this time, she thought he had just ducked out of the fight when things started to get serious. She didn’t realize he had gotten hurt.
“I just need a bit more time to heal and I’ll be back to my chipper old self.” The static effect on his voice flickered in and out, making him sound like a radio station with a bad signal.
Charlie shook her head. “That’s not how blessed weapons work. If you let that wound go untreated for too long, it’ll spread to your entire body and you’re disintegrate into nothing. A much worse fate than dying on extermination day.” She gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let me take a look at it. I can help you.”
He brushed off her touch, wincing as he rolled his shoulder. “I don’t need you fussing over me like you do everyone else in this hotel, my dear. Nor do I intend to use up my favor with you on something as frivol as this.”
“I’m not doing this as a favor to you. I’m doing this because-” She paused. “Well, because I care about you. We’re business partners. And friends, right? You said so yourself. Besides, I can’t have you stumbling around the hotel and bleeding everywhere. You’ll scare away our new guests.”
“Hmm.” Alastor narrowed his eyes at her. “Alright, princess. Your annoying persistence wears even me down eventually. Make it snappy.”
Charlie extended her hand to his chest, and even before she made contact, she could feel an intense heat radiating from it. She wouldn’t be able to make much of a diagnosis without seeing the wound itself. As she gently gripped his bowtie with the intention of loosening it, the man’s hand shot up and gripped her wrist.
“WHAT are you doing?” he hissed in a low, staticky tone.
She yanked her hand from his hold, rubbing where his claws had dug into her skin. “I need to see how bad this thing is. And stop moving so much! You’re making it worse.”
He glared murderously at her, his smile so manic she expected it to rip from his expression and whack her in the face like a boomerang. She met his eyes defiantly, not backing down. He let out a prissy “hmph” and settled back. When she was sure he would behave himself, she reached for his bowtie again, loosening it with quick fingers and letting it hang untied around his neck. She noticed his throat muscles flex as her fingertips brushed against his skin. It was strange, for how handsy and invasive Alastor could get with her, he didn’t seem to like when the tables were turned.
She unfastened the top button of his shirt, causing him to suck in a sharp breath. “Sorry,” she found herself muttering.
“It’s customary to buy one dinner first, isn’t it?” he mumbled, voice strained.
She laughed uneasily. At least he was still cracking jokes. She’s not sure why his insinuation makes her cheeks burn. This was Alastor she was dealing with, though. He loved taking advantage of an awkward situation. She undid another button.
“Shiiiiiiit Alastor, this is bad.” His shirt was barely open past his collarbone and she could already see the tendrils of gold infection creeping out from his chest wound. They branched along his gray skin like he was some kind of unholy kintsugi pot. She gingerly traced her hand down the pattern, imbuing magic into her touch to see if it had any effect. Alastor pinched his eyes shut and groaned deep behind his clenched smile. She couldn’t tell if it was in pain or relief. To her delight, the infection was retracting. But as soon as she withdrew her fingers, it began spreading again.
“Damnit,” she cursed again. “Maybe I need to get right at the source.” Before she could expose more of his chest, Alastor grabbed her wrist again.
“I-I think that’s enough for today,” he said flatly and unfiltered.
“What? I’ve barely done anything,” she argued.
Alastor struggled to rise out of his seat. “As I said before, I appreciate your concern, my dear. But it really is time for you to leave now.”
Charlie pushed him right back down, only feeling a little bad about the wheeze of pain he let out. “If you’re not gonna let me help you, then at least let me take you to a hospital or something.”
“No. Please leave.”
“Or I could get something from my dad. I don’t even need to tell him it’s for you.”
“Absolutely not. Go, Charlie. That’s the last time I’ll ask nicely.”
She threw her fists down in frustration. “You stubborn old asshole! You’d seriously rather die than let someone help you?!”
“GET OUT!!” Alastor’s face contorted in a banshee-like shriek as his limbs began cracking and growing. His voice sounded like every soul he owned was screaming at her through a stadium amplifier. It cracked the windows of the radio tower and she instinctively covered her ears as it threatened to crack her skull too.
He began coughing. Blood dripped from his crudely sewn smile, some splattering on Charlie’s shirt. Before she knew what was happening, she was swept up in a swirl of green smoke and transported to the hotel bar, landing ass first onto one of the barstools.
Husk nearly jumped out of his fur and shattered the glass in his hand. “Where the FUCK did you just come from?!”
Alastor’s head was spinning. That little outburst zapped the last bit of energy out of him. He took a step back towards his chair and stumbled, hand shooting out to grip the edge of his radio console. His fingers slipped weakly along the metal as they failed to find anchor. He only just managed to catch himself before smashing headfirst into the soundboard.
Not just his chest burned. It felt like every vein in his body was on fire. They pulsed inside his skin, threatening to rip out of him. From underneath his sleeves, gold tendrils of infection slowly crept down his blackened hands. That same gold began to fill his vision.
He let out a defeated chuckle. “Well, that can’t be good.”
A fit of maniacal laughter overcame him, each breath like a handful of daggers being stabbed into his chest. And he thought going out in a grandiose display of altruism was bad. This was much worse. Alastor the radio demon, who all of hell feared, dying weak and alone in his radio tower. Mocking snickers that weren’t his echoed in the back of his brain. The always-watching eyes on his walls squinted at him in a mouthless sneer.
“I-Is this what you had planned for me all along?” he called out to no one. “For my legacy to end with a whimper? Snuffed out before it even had a chance to burn bright?”
Damn his pride, he should have just let the princess help him. Sweet Charlie, who would have done so out of the goodness of her hellborn heart, with no ulterior motive and expecting nothing in return. Sweet, stupid, naïve Charlie. Damn her too. It was her fault he got injured in the first place.
He shook his head in disagreement with himself. No, he was his own undoing. In his last moments, he was willing to admit that. He thought this world was his anthill and he had the magnifying glass. Now he realized he was in an anthill himself and there would always be someone with a bigger magnifying glass, ready to smite him as soon as he left himself exposed. Be it Adam, Lucifer, or other forces he’d rather not waste his final thoughts on.
With his last bit of strength, Alastor dissolved into black smoke. Seconds later, his shadow plopped him down somewhere soft. As the apple-embroidered canopies above him blurred into a golden haze, he found himself thinking about the princess. He hoped it wouldn’t upset her too much to find his disintegrated corpse in her bed.