Charlie Dies AU Request - Uses the Deal to Save Her
Lillith Didn't Order Him to the Hotel Meet&Greet
Sinners Can't Have Salt
Al & Val Fighting Exterminators in Lust Ring Idea
Mimzy Joins the Hotel
Concept - Rosie/Alastor/Vox
Secret Competition to Take a Photo of Al (& associated chaos)
Mimzy ticks off the Vees / Overlords at the Gate
Concept - Alastor emits Radiation & Distances Himself from Others
Concept - Lillith only needed one Media Demon & Manufactured Him
Concept - Unexpected Betrayal after the Extermination
Alastor & Mimzy - Drunken Chaotic Situation (Husk is Not Helping)
Lillith literally changes time to save Charlie, Lucifer & Hell (using Alastor)
Concept - the 4th Vee (Vaudeville)
Concept - Alastor has a Hypnotic Voice
Alastor's Mother Killed Him AU
Unexpected Bonding at a Strip Club - Hazbin Hotel Core Group
Lillith Owns all the Sovereign Overlords (Legally)
Alastor's Distortion stops Vox from seeing him (literally, he's a tv)
Alastor and Vox get stuck in the movie Pacific Rim (weird as it sounds)
Silly Sinsmas Gifting Idea (Radiodust themed) - being rewritten into an actual fic
ShockJock Chaos because Alastor's Staff is Broken
Alastor & Lillith are Friends - but the rest of Hell thought they were banging - the only one who doesn't know is Al
The original for Daddy's Little Disappointment Support Group
The original for The Tattle-Tale heart
Alastor's Father was an Overlord/ The Overlords he defeated escaped when the staff broke
Alastor and Velvette BFF - Killing Vox with Slang
Alastor & Rosie play KNIFE TAG and Angel wants IN
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Actual AO3 Fics (so far)
The Tattle-Tale Heart
Summary:
Charlie anxiously begs her father to help with whatever is wrong with Alastor, post-battle.
His reluctant assistance leads to the discovery of the Deal... and something far more sinister.
Biting the Bullet
Summary:
There is always a price to be paid for a favour, even freely given or granted.
Sometimes the consequences are inevitable, but that doesn't mean the people you sacrificed it for aren't horrified and distraught by it.
Alastor is a Demon of his Word.
Daddy's Little Disappointment Support Group
Summary:
Lucifer struggles with the weight of his world-changing decision on the annual anniversary of his Fall.
An unexpected source of support is coerced into his little bubble, reframing some of the self-hatred with intriguing levels of blasphemy and common sense.
In the midst of it all, they find common ground.
Bad Connection
Summary:
In an attempt to help the hotel, Charlie places them all in danger at the hands of a very specific threat, despite the desperate attempts of Husk, Niffty and Alastor to ward her away from calamity. What the media mogul never suspected, however, was the lengths to which her majesty would go to keep her newfound family safe after such a blunder.
Vox still manages to get his prize, in the end, and the fallout leaves one particular Overlord at the mercy of care, affection and compassion in a way that horrifies him to his core.
What if Vox has been capturing, cannibalising and reverse engineering all the technologically capable sinners that fall into hell, to fuel his advances in hell?
We see other tv and radio sinners, theyre just components. Progress and sacrifice, and if you cant die its renewable.
Would love to see Alastor remind Vox of his own words.
Like Velvette, still understandably furious at the forced apology to Carmilla, brings ipad Vox to the hazbin hotel to make him apologise.
Not because she feels guilty or thinks they need to. She just wants to see Vox suffer a little ironic payback.
He protests, trying to turn off or shove up a screensaver which is as close to avoiding eye contact as a screen without a neck can get, but Vel keeps pressing the screen on button.
Charlie is more cautious about their intentions this time but also very excited at the idea that even Vox could be capable of redemption if he starts with sorry...
She has been restrained from singing at least 4 times so far.
After a strong shake like he was a misbehaving etch a sketch, Vox finally mumbles a begruding almost-apology. "I'm.... sorry if my attempt to overthrow heaven, stop the exterminations your family cursed us with and (becomethenewgod) upset you when it backfired and shit."
Vaggi doesnt get a chance to even raise that Vox's attempt didnt even come to a real apology and also what was that last bit...? Before hysterical laughter filled the room as shadows coalesced before the unrepentent ipad and his doll of a stand.
"Oh ho ho, Vincent, what a terrible happening to find you once more in the hotel and lying through your teeth to the naive staff. Do tell what makes you think you have the right to trespass after your deplorable behaviour, hmmm?"
Vox crackled with static and snow, snarling.
"Oi, you shut the fuck up too, deer boy... you goaded this fucking idiot into half of it with your little jabs and playing off his weird obssessive thing for you. You should apologise too for that, and for your freaky bug daughter bitch thing ruining my hair!"
Alastor blinked and laughed harder. "Why, I don't recall giving any orders, dear Velvette... if The Picturebox here decided to show his true colours and treat you poorly in his thwarted ascent to deification... that is on the little fool. If anything, I told him not to do a number of specific things to avoid exactly this outcome!"
Butter would have caught fire in that lying mouth, but the grin didn't fade as the Overlord waved away the whole matter. "Nevermind such frivolities, in fact... I merely came to see if Vincent here wanted to make good on his little threat?"
"Fuck off with that, you old bastard, you just twisted what little brain Vox had in that square head of his around to play your own game. That's why he turned on me and val. But since you're done playing puppet master, we've sealed the cracks, and when vox earns body priviledges again, the vees will be coming for you..."
Alastor wrinkles his nose.
"An unfortunate turn of phrase... do not use it again."
Velvette rolls her eyes. "You'd be so lucky if i bothered, old man but you're not my type..."
"Why yes, i did note your interest in Carmilla. Looking for a, how does the phrase go...? Ah, dommy milf mommy, yes?" Alastor fired back lethally with all the care of someone asking about how another's garden was coming along.
Velvette actually drops Vox in her outrage and shock that an ancient geezer even knows those words. Much less weaponised them against her with the accuracy of a targeted ad campaign towards a weak-willed but affluent sinner.
Vox buffers violently as tendrils pick him up off the floor with all the delicacy of one using the least contact possible to remove a squashed roach from the immediate vicinity so as to relocate it to the trash.
Alastor ignores Vaggi's confused and accusatory, 'Alright, fess up, which one of you taught him that? I promise not to impale anyone, but we are talking lost dessert priviledges for like, a month here. I took psychic damage from that statement.' to grin at Vox.
"So, old pal, given that you nearly broke all of hell on your egomaniacal, and frankly rizzless, clamber for godly power, in which you isolated allies and showed your weakness to all with eyes... do you have anything left to live for?" The grin seemed to fill the space between them like a shark anticipating a meal.
Charlie seemed to shake off her daze and stepped forwards, tugging urgently at his arm in the process. "Al, you know full well that we don't promote suicide here. Even for unwanted guests." She admonished sternly.
"Oh perish the thought princess, I merely meant that the fool has finally stopped long enough to consider the things he so easily aped and cast aside in his quest for power. Always looking for a new identity to mimic as he rose up the ladder.
Why, just ask him about how he formed his media empire on earth, its a rivetingly bloody tale of a man who couldn't ever find a sense of self, and perpetually stole it from others to feel like a real human being.
This is likely the first time the damage caught up to him... well, except his untimely demise whilst trying to enact a cult-wide sacrifice of unwitting members, I mean."
"Fuck you! Y-Y-You thINK you're b-BETTER than me you old hac-HACK? " Vox glitched violently before seemingly regaining some control. "You're just as much a serial killer as me, you pretentious asshole! Did you even think to tell these soft hearted freaks you aligned with, that? Bet you didn't... at least I can trust vel and val with my secrets."
"Can you though? Your embellished tales of the cult you led seem to avoid the truth behind your motives... how you impersonated and climbed over the corpses of dozens of people over and over again. How you liked having those about you who were programmable, were not a threat to your quest for insatiable power... and something to discard when you tired of them. How easily you dropped the other Vees the moment it suited... do they know you see them as pawns, even now?"
"Shut up, just shut the fuck up! You ruined EVERYTHING! I could have torn down heaven and ruled, but YOU! You just couldn't let me succeed because, what? You randomly aligned with the drippy insane princess?" Vox's tone was bordering on hysterical. If he'd had hands, they would likely be frantically tugging at his antennae.
"And for WHAT? They never appreciated the crazy shit you do for them and it'd probably make her high and mightiness weep if she found out everything done in the dark for this little pro-heaven propaganda parade!
You could've been one of the original vees, a titan who had people at his back like Vel and Val have mine even if I fuck up... but no, you had to be stubborn about it. Just fucking tossed that option aside and laughed in my face at the idea of partnership amongst the overlords... if anyone's fucked in the head, it's YOU, Al."
Tears.exe was quickly disabled to avoid any particular displays of unwanted emotion.
"Hmmm, perhaps. But I notice that even now in the ruins of your reputation... you still cannot help but blame others for your own innate failures, Vincent. Your signal is radiating with shame and fury right now, it's delightful!" Alastor makes a show of tapping his chin. "Why, I do believe I recall that I warning you of this very outcome. And when I went to the trouble of it, why I believe you replied something specific... what was it now? Oh yes."
Vox's eyes widen as radio dials spin into place and his own voice emanated from the clenched, glowing teeth. "You can say your last I Told You So while i slit your throat..."
Whatever clever statement the deer was about to dangle over the ipad's head about lacking the necessary limbs for such a feat, was drowned out by a horrified, "He was going to kill you?!"
The three overlords shared a very pointed look between them.
"Er, didn't you teach blondie how overlords work, Grampa-phone?" Velvette asked, waving at the soppy yet furious princess standing several feet away with clenched fists.
"Overlord or not, I wont have someone threatening people that matter to me, and especially not when they let themselves get captured to protect me..."
Alastor's ears went flat in horror. "Charlotte, that was merely a byproduct of a far larger matter that-..."
How to stop her taking this out of context so severely?
Velvette notices the general look of muted panic on Alastor's face and can't help but laugh. The optics were delightfully abstract, and the little princess would take whatever she wanted out of a scenario to warp it about her own ideals... like some kind of anti-Velvette, always seeking light in a situation. Girl was #bonkers but she did pad out the news cycle on slow days with her shennanigans, so she did have some sort of celeb power to her nonsense.
"Really? You'll square up to us when you're power's all fucked up without a care, but the bint starts sloppy emotional whatever this is, and that sends you?" She can't help but snort a little at the absurdity.
"Oh yeah, run away from genuine emotion again, like the big bad overlord you are!" Vox mumbles, infuriating Alastor, who smacks him across the screen hard enough to dent the case.
"This is why deals are best done without sentimental drivel impacting the terms." Alastor drawls, turning to face Charlie. "Charlotte, the terms were set specifically to break the moment Vox entered your immediate vicinity, he has no sense of decorum or the ability to keep his damn hands to himself. If he had attempted something more nefarious, I had an alternate plan to break the deal and tear him apart. Nothing to get... THIS... over." He gestured at the big wet eyes aimed his way.
"Oh yeah, like how? Trip her into me with one of your stupid little dolls?" Vox sneers.
"If needs must, then yes. But had you attempted to touch her in a less appropriate manner, you would not be alive right now. Although, the fact you persist after such public failure... your name, face and brand in shambles, and mocked by everyone in Hell and Heaven at this point."
Vox glitches again. "And what about you, fucker? After Vel, Val and I took you on a tour of hell as our prisoner you can't pretend your reputation's intact. You're just as fucked as we are!"
"As you are. The other two seem to be spinning this quite well, actually. And no, the right gossip in the right ears can easily share the truth of the deal and that it was an attempt to constrain your madness... well, it seems I will be coming up Rosie." Alastor laughed at his own punnery. Niffty did as well, mostly because she enjoyed laughing with Alastor.
"Don't get too comfortable, I can spin that right back on its head." Velvette threatens, waving her phone in emphasis.
"You can certainly try, dear, but I assure you that any established overlord has an extensive network of souls and spies across the Rings who are quite well placed to ensure rumours are placed in the right circles. And doubt is drizzled on your online chicanery... many of the older members of hell prefer news via the cannibal chain of informal gossip, than to fiddle with your electronic lies."
"Vox can just hypnotise the lot of 'em via subliminal messages next time I post a video of my new fashion line. Tell the people to only hear us."
Alastor mockingly played her own voice back to her. "Well, not after that particular little secret gets out on the next broadcast, no. You really do need to stop relying so heavily on your technology, it will become obsolete one day... and then where will you be?"
Velvette scoffs. "Says the FOSSIL with the fuckin' radio show in 2026!"
"Hmmm, I understand that Niffty and her scientific friend have been instrumental in utilising streaming services to facilitate online broadcasting for the souls unable to catch shows due to death or other commitments. And do waste time attempting to locate the site... I suspect even you cannot get past whatever firewalls have been installed around integrated curses and coding."
Vox's mouth hung so far open it fell right out of the screen.
"What the FUCK did you just say? When the hell did you learn what any of that means???"
Alastor dropped him back into Velvette's hands. "I used to repair your head when you were partially pulverised, did I not? I dislike any technology that you have your little chips and eyes in, Vincent, but I am not ignorant of how things work. If I did not, it would be more complicated to locate and burn out those little 'bugs' you persistently send into the hotel."
Velvette is looking between them. "Was you two like, a thing? Because that's the vibe I'm getting."
"No." Alastor looked annoyed at the insinuation.
"Well I thought we were but Mr I Haven't Got Fucking Feelings over there ruined it." Vox snapped. "And how'd that turn out for you, huh? Trapped in this dinky hotel with Antichrist Barbie, a broken angel, your creepy maid kid thing, and the drunk gambler. Not really top of the heap, huh?"
"You literally had an entire lifetime of growing close to people, copying every facet of their being, and then murdering them to take their place. You will have to forgive the lack of trust, or don't, I don't particularly care. And the saddest, or perhaps the funniest part of it all, is that you couldn't see the joke. You, Vincent, are a massive ball of every face and story you've stolen, but there's no oneunderneath it... you change everything about yourself to enamour the next target and then become them. I did not want to pal around with someone like me. You needed to be You, or it would get awfully boring." Alastor shrugged.
"Now, would you like to borrow one of Niffty's blades? I suspect we can tape it upon your person, like the infamous Stabby the Roomba Niffy is so delighted by on the internet. I have requested to release several into the hotel for educational purposes, but note these ideas are not being approved as of yet."
"Can you fucking shut up for a second? You're giving me whiplash the way you jump around. It's always been annoying." Vox visibly gritted his teeth. "You just fill the world with NOISE for NO REASON!"
"Oh-ho-hoh! Pot? Kettle. My good toaster bath recipient.
And yet you listened so attentively in your little monument to overcompensation... such a good little pet. Yet the way you treat your so-called equals, reminds one more of someone thinking himself the master of unruly children. Intriguing."
"We're equal in the tower, you ancient freak. Nothing you said to twist Vox's dial to Fucking Idiot when he was in his evil plan era has stuck around now you've fucked off." Vel snarks, glaring at the assembled.
"I assure you, the only thing twisted is your current sesationalisation of the facts! Did I not tell you, Vox, that this would blow up in your face? That you would fuck it up, never fill your cup?"
"Yeah, you also said I was broken from the start and nothing would ever be enough. If you're pretending that was some kind of helpful statement, I'm going to find a way to break your radio console, even without a body."
Alastor actually bristled. "Unless you wish to join the others screaming for eternity without end in my choral broaddcast of agony, you'd best rethink such foolish statements, Vincent. You are broken, and the joke of it all is that you are the only one who canot see it... not once in your life or afterlife have you felt content with what you have, you are always seeking the next step up."
He wags a finger at Vox's open mouth. "Ah-ah-Ahhh! I'm talking. I may not believe in this nonsensical therapy thing that Charlotte is doing here, but I strongly suspect if one cracked open one of her little psychology books, you'd have a whole chapter dedicated to what in all the rings is wrong with you."
Charlie steps in again, and Alastor debated shaking her off.
"Al, please, he's had enough... that's not how we do breakthroughs here, you can't just drop something like that on a patient."
"Charlotte, not only is he not a patient, I am not in fact required or bound by your creed... we have been tearing each other apart in various battles for near a century. Gloating, and in his case showboating, do tend to be part of that deal..."
"But there's a better way!"
"...seriously, did you not explain like, anything about Overlords to her?" Velvette is throwing serious side eye at Alastor now.
"Believe me, I have made strong attempts..."
"But it doesn't have to BE that way anymore, we all worked together to stop the machine exploding, right?" Charlie was starting to sound a little desperate. "That means something, right? RIGHT, AL?"
"Nah, we live here. If it was all fucked up, there's nothing to rule and no one to sell to. All about optics, luv." Velvette answered, shrugging. Not a single overlord wanted to be reminded about the literal kumbaya moment they'd had. Ruined the image.
"Indeed. It was necessary to our ongoing survival, Charlotte. If only we had not come to such a circumstance..." He threw a pointed glare at Vox, and turned his back, clearly done with the situation. "Husker, Niffty, show our guests the door... unless Vox wishes to take the L and remain as a guest to fix..." He throws a gesture at the ipad that encompassed all of him.
"I'm going to fucking kill you one day, Al." Vox vowed, sparking in Velvette's hands. "I'm going to enjoy watching the light drain from your eyes..."
Alastor started to laugh, leaving Charlie not sure if this was some sort of signal for mental health first aid, or if this was like... an Overlord thing.
"I look forward to your next attempt. Now do get the fuck out of my territory... before you require reformation."
"We'll go, but only 'cause the rank-ass vibes from this place are making my skin crawl. Might want to keep an eye on the news the next few days, do-gooders, watch how a professional spins a shitshow." Velvette winked, flicked her hair and sauntered out. Flanked by Husk and Niffty.
Charlie was trying to find a kind way to bring up what the fuck that was about, in therapeutic terms, when Baxter popped up from a hatch in the floor. Startling her skyward.
Vaggi turned to him immediately. "Was it enough time? Did it work?"
"Affirmative!"
"Wait, what...?"
"Charlie! Daddy's home, and he has a preeeeeseeeeeent!" Lucifer yelled as the portal appeared feet away. Cherri dragged a semi-conscious Angel Dust through, pink drool down his shirt and worse for wear, but here and alive.
"What about...?" Vaggi started.
Poppets streamed from the portal, saluting the King mockingly before dissolving back into Alastor's shadows. "I believe he has been adequately sorted as well... and our guests should find a delightful display of the vile creature upon their return."
"But I thought you couldn't, you know..." Charlie hinted with her eyes at her father, catching on.
"I can't, no... but if I happened to be glowing in the right place to completely empty the moth's brain while the evil dolls did... THAT... to him... well, I wasn't the one who hurt him." The king shrugged. "Did it work, given it wasn't a one on one smackdown? Isn't that against the rules or whatever?"
A glowing green chain appeared at Angel's throat.
"Oh your Lowness, it's Hell, there are no rules..." Alastor grinned. "But on occasion, there are perks to a plan well implemented.
Charlie frowned, frustrated to have been left out again. "But, how did you...?"
"Word passing from sinner to sinner is that Velvette was shamed by having to apologise to Carmilla, and this lowered her status... isn't it strange Vox was not made to offer penance for his own crimes, hmmm? The doll thinks she controls all rumours, all information out there... and yet, she is just as susceptible to bait as those she bamboozles. It was a matter of time before she brought Vox to the Hotel, leaving the moth unguarded."
"And you used that time to save Angel?"
His ears flattened as that overly emotional weepy joy filled her tone. "I took the opportunity to remove an annoying overlord I have never agreed with..."
Husk had returned and all but threw himself to his knees by Angel, looking over the state of the arachnid. "It's bad, but we can get him through this... me'n'Cherri have it from here."
Charlie was bouncing on her heels beside him, which told Alastor the princess had something on her mind she wanted to discuss but didn't know how to approach. He sighed internally.
"Yes, Charlotte?"
"I'm juuuust wondering if maaaaybe you'd consider letting Angel out of his chains... because you don't seem like you would want to, uh, Use him in the same way Valentino did in the contract...?" She broaches.
Bile rose in his throat at the very idea. "Of course not. It will need to be rewritten... much like the others. A sugar-addled toddler could have managed better and more balanced contracts than the moth did, Angel's was in CRAYON! The ridiculousness is exceptionally galling..."
"Then... you will?"
"No."
She deflates. "No?"
"No." He repeats. "Angel, in particular, is a high profile target for abuse, extortion or other depravity right now. It may be necessary to be able to call him back by chain quickly, and to have the wrath of the Radio Demon as deterrant for any of the basement-dwelling cretins of this pit who may seek to take advantage of the moth's former cohort. One doesn't want to be careless with newly acquired souls lest they lose them just as swiftly as they were gained..."
He heard the delighted squeal in an almost doppler effect as the stronger-than-she-looked princess immediately breached his personal space for a hug. Alastor had to mentally count to ten to avoid biting her in automatic response... although it must be noted several radios across the ring exploded without warning.
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END
I have no idea.
had wanted to throw in a jab about Vox being like 'well maybe I could rock your world and fix your uptight attitude' and Alastor to swat back with, 'based on the sad little performance with the moth, I must say that Valentino is a consummate actor... I almost believed he thought you might let him climax as well." or soemthing along those lines to kick Vox right in to the ego.
However, as you can see when the idea petered out, it uh, didn't write that way.
The hellaverse but every so often you see a Winner in a khaki outfit in the background of scenes wrestling giant beasta and sinners with a delighted grin on his face
When asked about it, the royal family shrug like "oh thats just steve, he made a request upstairs, so..."
And the only one with any context is Cherri who is losing her shit for a pic with him
Hear My Hope increased in volume when Alastor and Rosie joined. I think there was a secondary thing happening, not just the increased power.
We know Alastor has broadcast towers throughout pride and can also take over any radio. What if, with the fixed staff, he was able to boost through the airwaves again?
Hear My Hope increased in volume when Alastor and Rosie joined. I think there was a secondary thing happening, not just the increased power.
We know Alastor has broadcast towers throughout pride and can also take over any radio. What if, with the fixed staff, he was able to boost through the airwaves again?
So, do you all recall the imagery of alstor with a sort of circuslike tent during Mimzy's backstory moment?
I feel like that was a big fucking hint.
Either he, or rosie, wanta to be the ringmaster here. Or overrun the circus.
They really go out of their way to hide thinga in plain sight, those kooky clever animators.
And the persistent mockery of lucifers ringmaster / cirus aesthetic ties in somehow.
The real question is whether it involves Lillith or not. She is the ruler of hell in reality and lucifer is the ruler in name right now. He may be the ringmaster but shes ensuring the circus runs.
But one protest about the unruly patrons from above and she went missing.
A lot of Alastors behaviour in season two was motivated by the knowledge he was the only one he could rely upon.
What would have happened to that mindset, to the activities of season 2, if the hotel inhabitants HAD gone looking for him post fight with Adam?
If they had found him and provided support and care?
His sudden resurgence and refusal to dwell on what happened left the othera assuming him invincible, that nothing could bother him. Thats why the imprisonment wasnt seen as A Problem or Urgent, because they assumed he would be fine.
Theres also a level of lack of care, like no support when lucifer goaded him, no one checking in on his behaviour, etc.
In the 6-7 months since the hotel formed, someone must have gotten a read on him as something powerful and demonic but with a hint of human still in there, right?
Even if it was just slamming into one another at two am when you both arrived home covered in blood from different events. Or had a tentacle smack against the back of the head for using the last of the milk, and not said anything. Or been hurled off the roof for what niffty reported you did to test her cleaning skills. Or catching him hum a similar tune when he wasnt thinking too deeply about anything.
Etc
Long time to not pick up something.
And what if angel did notice because vox had encoded him to keep an eye, but anytime he went to say something to one of the others, the info got erased? After all, once he reported to vox, the info and the action were gone.
Thats why Vox was extra cocky about the whole thing, and unafraid to challenge somwone he once hesitated to cross (excepting a fight from 7 yrs ago that they need to tell us about lets be real they keep dangling that carrot).
Oooh, idea. Vox used Angel to find and ensure the ongoing existence of Alastor (because he wants to kill the guy not some angel) and then wipes both their minds. So he held all the cards the whole time, or assumed he did.
What if they did find him, though? And dragged his stubborn ass back to as much health as they possibly can. Given no sinner normally survives that sort of injury they are limited on it.
There would be a level of horror at being helped or cared for, and that would be more mortifying and alarming to manage compared to any physical harms.
Charlie might not be quite so naive having seen the death of pentious and the physical evidence of alastors fight with adam. But having someone she can help rebuilds part of her grieving heart in a way that stops her going full chaotic counsellor in the new hotel.
The enforced closeness might force charlie to stop and listen, for alastor to challenge her in his goading way and force her hand. She might listen when the others start cautioning against letting the vees in
The whole timeline could fall apart in a new direction.
Do i believe vox would go for the angel weapon? Yes. But if charlie wasnt so frantically reacting, the chance to fracture her relationship with her dad and result in the whole... capturing the devil.
Vox would remain a rich white joke to the other overlords, thered be no backing.
The news of pentiousss ascending would hit different. Voxtech would still mock it but they dont have the people like they did before.
A lot hinged on alastors obvious and secret machinations throughout the show.
For a twist, alastor could force charlie to give him the phone when her mother calls, and fade to black for season 3.
Do you think Zestial has anything to do with the glowing green strings across Alastor's form?
From, showed him how to do it as payment for not being hunted, to Alastor was like his own niffty on arrival and he took the time to train and semi tame the too powerful creature?
Also, what if Alastor wasnt the only one on her leash or in the network?
Zestial does seem to know many, many things others consider him elderly, ignorant and poasibly ancient news. But that automatically disarms the majority as they write him off.
I suspect that is why he clings so tightly to his way of speech, while others adapt even slightly. This overlord sees the world in a way other sinners cannot, not yet, because he is the eldest overlord and likely the last sinner of his time still alive and coherent enough to think.
It again falls back on the how many times can you die in hell before not enough of you reforms, physically or mentally, and you fade into the eyes and walls and aether of the realm?
Zestial is an unknown.
His motives do seem to aim towards altruism for carmilla and her girls, and some fondness towards alastor and we believe rosie. But we also saw snippets of his realm wide interest in supporting rising overlords and clever sinners in the baxter flashback.
I want to know more about him. Is he a patron of the creatives?
The bold ones?
Could he and alastor have fought to an impasse, once? Or was he not seen as a threat? There seems respect there, to a degree.
Or is he a verbal savage in a way the newer sinners dont understand but endears him to older overlords like carmilla, rosie, alastor, etc. Maybe even lillith thought him interesting.
And that bonds them lightly. Never enough for true friendship, but not enemies. After all, there are no friends in hell...
Whose faces does zestial miss? Were some of the terrible overlords cast down by alastor, his friends? Does he harbour hate?
Is he secretly guarding a task from the queen or rosie? Does he intend to use or shield carmilla from what is coming?
What is his power? We know he can shapeshift and use green blasts of light, but what else?
Did he participate in the rebellion? Did he patch the wounded with hastily conjured green threads?
If carmilla was to hulk out overlord style, would we see his careful stitching?
I know tbe real answer is likely that it is an inherent power to alastor given he has poppets and voodoo, and perhaps we shall find out why so many indicate he was dismembered or fatally wounded... but it would be an intriguing crossover.
The first time he was at the mercy of another non rosie overlord and found the closest thing to kindness hell can offer. Perhaps a deal to protect those important to zestial from attack or broadcast.
so back when my little brother was in high school, my mom went as a chaperone for their senior year field trip to an amusement park. which, you know, brave move to volunteer to supervise a bunch of high school seniors let loose in a wonderland of rollercoasters and sugar
my brother and his friends in this field trip group were truly great kids. but they were not above run of the mill teenage boy shenanigans. it’s the end of senior year, you and all your buddies are at the amusement park, you’re naturally going to want to act like a complete moron
there was one kid in the group who was especially prone to goofing around. committed to the bit, some may say. my mom knew that if nonsense was going to break out, he’d likely be at the center of it
so she goes up to this kid at the very start of the trip and says “hey, i’m kinda worried about this chaperoning thing. this might be a lot to ask, but can you help me keep an eye on everyone? you wouldn’t have to do anything big, just be an extra set of eyes for me.”
friends, this kid proceeded to run their field trip group like the fucking us marines. everyone is at the meet up spots at the designated time. everyone waits in line for the rides like a bunch of boy scouts. the second the horseplay gets too out of hand, this kid is getting it back under control
it’s incredible how differently people act based on the expectations you set. instead of going to this kid and saying “hey, i know you’re trouble, so i’ve got my eye on you,” my mom went “hey, i know you have influence in your peer group, so i think you can help me.”
treat someone like a problem, they’ll act like a problem. but give people a chance to help, make them feel important, and they usually rise far above the occasion. it was a stroke of genius that i’m honestly still in awe of
Maybe the reason there are no older overlords than zestial is because at a certain level of power it consumes them.
Perhaps it makes them something else, something unrecognisable and barely aware of what it once was.
Pehaps they become so much of their niche they make a dar ascension.
Perhaps it is like holding a falling star in yoir hands and trying not to let the light burn you with a glance. But one day it will break free.
A firm grasp on it slows this, but a strong grasp on who you are and what your motive is tethers you to existence.
Zestial is not power hungry. He simply IS.
He has reached where he needs to be.
He has also watched a thousand overlords and wannabes hurl themselvea up the ladder without any chance of respite. Only to become filled with something that tears them asunder.
It was a miracle the television overlord did not disipate into a thing upon the electrical currents of hell. Some hulking thing that occasionally breached unto earth and caused cryptid sightings.
It also helped if one took on the power gradually. It was almost akin to stregth training, one cannot carry a 50kg bag on their first day without injury. But to build up to it with time to rest and pracrice... with an assurance of self and a motive, like carmilla and her daughters, one can do it.
It was how zestial had tarried sonlong in thia afterlife.
He had thought of allowing the shade to consume him... but then there was Carmilla. And the company of the oddly endearing Rosie, and Alastor.
Well... there would be time to surrender to the dark later on.
What if that is why strange creatures appear inconsistently on earth, though?
Human souls are drawn to their point of origin, no matter how mutated. With great power the barriers, so ancient and harried, fracture briefly... and each sighting, each taking, each sundering of a family, community, entire environment... it builds their tale.
Making of them a dark deity and tulpa, inadvertently calling them back to the realm again and again by the fear and fascination fuelled beliefs and the namea thry are given
When Charlie asked Niffty to help, and she sang, I think she was helping in two ways. The obvious, and the overlord.
We know, thats to the s2 ending that music is active power and that overlords have a lot of it. They warp reality, which is what niffty did in her song as well
Niffty and Husk seem to have maintained their power despite their deals, and ises it in jear my hope. Husk's powers are magic in and of itself which means the level of reality distortion is often waves off as 'magician' abilities.
But, to haul ass back to the first point, Niffty was putting in her B+ and above game for Charlie, because she does care.
And i felt Charlie was both ungrateful and a little racist with the whole 'does anyone know what she's saying' u bet ur ass some demons of the same heritage were likely very vocal about her antics on social media like...
Would love them to replay that on tv as part of a charlie based slander (just in, the princess is racist! Shocking news that the princess forces all ber employees to speak english only, and mocks attempts to etc bc it That Bitch and her creaky neck and what i assume is mantis pussy)
Husk and Alastor overhear the 'does anyone know what she's saying and try to count to 3 bc the princess is sheltered and obviously doesnt knkw about human languages
When Charlie mentions to Vaggie she still doesnt know if niffty was helping , because she doesnt know if that was a real language or something niffty was teaching the bugs
In the sudden silence you can hear Al's neck crunch as he turns yo face her, body rigid.
Husk fluffs up like a pissed off cat and slams the cleaning rag on the table as he vaults it. "She gave you magical subtitles, the fuck you MEAN, is that a real language?! She's speaking japanese!"
Before Charlie can even formulate a reaponse, there's a sad sniff from a vent to the right and the distraught form of niffty falls out into the Shadow's embrace.
"You... didnt think i did good?" Her bottom lip is trembling. "I wasnt... helping?!"
She breaks off into a sob that fractures bulbs in one of the apple themed chandeliers.
The room goes cold. Shadows chitter violently up the wals. Angel is trying not to look too aroused by the feral Husk all but hissing at the princess.
Vaggi places Charlie behind her. "I think you'd better run to your dad, hun..."
Would love to see Alastor remind Vox of his own words.
Like Velvette, still understandably furious at the forced apology to Carmilla, brings ipad Vox to the hazbin hotel to make him apologise.
Not because she feels guilty or thinks they need to. She just wants to see Vox suffer a little ironic payback.
He protests, trying to turn off or shove up a screensaver which is as close to avoiding eye contact as a screen without a neck can get, but Vel keeps pressing the screen on button.
Charlie is more cautious about their intentions this time but also very excited at the idea that even Vox could be capable of redemption if he starts with sorry...
She has been restrained from singing at least 4 times so far.
After a strong shake like he was a misbehaving etch a sketch, Vox finally mumbles a begruding almost-apology. "I'm.... sorry if my attempt to overthrow heaven, stop the exterminations your family cursed us with and (becomethenewgod) upset you when it backfired and shit."
Vaggi doesnt get a chance to even raise that Vox's attempt didnt even come to a real apology and also what was that last bit...? Before hysterical laughter filled the room as shadows coalesced before the unrepentent ipad and his doll of a stand.
"Oh ho ho, Vincent, what a terrible happening to find you once more in the hotel and lying through your teeth to the naive staff. Do tell what makes you think you have the right to trespass after your deplorable behaviour, hmmm?"
Vox crackled with static and snow, snarling.
"Oi, you shut the fuck up too, deer boy... you goaded this fucking idiot into half of it with your little jabs and playing off his weird obssessive thing for you. You should apologise too for that, and for your freaky bug daughter bitch thing ruining my hair!"
Alastor blinked and laughed harder. "Why, I don't recall giving any orders, dear Velvette... if The Picturebox here decided to show his true colours and treat you poorly in his thwarted ascent to deification... that is on the little fool. If anything, I told him not to do a number of specific things to avoid exactly this outcome!"
Butter would have caught fire in that lying mouth, but the grin didn't fade as the Overlord waved away the whole matter. "Nevermind such frivolities, in fact... I merely came to see if Vincent here wanted to make good on his little threat?"
"Fuck off with that, you old bastard, you just twisted what little brain Vox had in that square head of his around to play your own game. That's why he turned on me and val. But since you're done playing puppet master, we've sealed the cracks, and when vox earns body priviledges again, the vees will be coming for you..."
Alastor wrinkles his nose.
"An unfortunate turn of phrase... do not use it again."
Velvette rolls her eyes. "You'd be so lucky if i bothered, old man but you're not my type..."
"Why yes, i did note your interest in Carmilla. Looking for a, how does the phrase go...? Ah, dommy milf mommy, yes?" Alastor fired back lethally with all the care of someone asking about how another's garden was coming along.
Velvette actually drops Vox in her outrage and shock that an ancient geezer even knows those words. Much less weaponised them against her with the accuracy of a targeted ad campaign towards a weak-willed but affluent sinner.
Vox buffers violently as tendrils pick him up off the floor with all the delicacy of one using the least contact possible to remove a squashed roach from the immediate vicinity so as to relocate it to the trash.
Alastor ignores Vaggi's confused and accusatory, 'Alright, fess up, which one of you taught him that? I promise not to impale anyone, but we are talking lost dessert priviledges for like, a month here. I took psychic damage from that statement.' to grin at Vox.
"So, old pal, given that you nearly broke all of hell on your egomaniacal, and frankly rizzless, clamber for godly power, in which you isolated allies and showed your weakness to all with eyes... do you have anything left to live for?" The grin seemed to fill the space between them like a shark anticipating a meal.
Charlie seemed to shake off her daze and stepped forwards, tugging urgently at his arm in the process. "Al, you know full well that we don't promote suicide here. Even for unwanted guests." She admonished sternly.
"Oh perish the thought princess, I merely meant that the fool has finally stopped long enough to consider the things he so easily aped and cast aside in his quest for power. Always looking for a new identity to mimic as he rose up the ladder.
Why, just ask him about how he formed his media empire on earth, its a rivetingly bloody tale of a man who couldn't ever find a sense of self, and perpetually stole it from others to feel like a real human being.
This is likely the first time the damage caught up to him... well, except his untimely demise whilst trying to enact a cult-wide sacrifice of unwitting members, I mean."
"Fuck you! Y-Y-You thINK you're b-BETTER than me you old hac-HACK? " Vox glitched violently before seemingly regaining some control. "You're just as much a serial killer as me, you pretentious asshole! Did you even think to tell these soft hearted freaks you aligned with, that? Bet you didn't... at least I can trust vel and val with my secrets."
"Can you though? Your embellished tales of the cult you led seem to avoid the truth behind your motives... how you impersonated and climbed over the corpses of dozens of people over and over again. How you liked having those about you who were programmable, were not a threat to your quest for insatiable power... and something to discard when you tired of them. How easily you dropped the other Vees the moment it suited... do they know you see them as pawns, even now?"
"Shut up, just shut the fuck up! You ruined EVERYTHING! I could have torn down heaven and ruled, but YOU! You just couldn't let me succeed because, what? You randomly aligned with the drippy insane princess?" Vox's tone was bordering on hysterical. If he'd had hands, they would likely be frantically tugging at his antennae.
"And for WHAT? They never appreciated the crazy shit you do for them and it'd probably make her high and mightiness weep if she found out everything done in the dark for this little pro-heaven propaganda parade!
You could've been one of the original vees, a titan who had people at his back like Vel and Val have mine even if I fuck up... but no, you had to be stubborn about it. Just fucking tossed that option aside and laughed in my face at the idea of partnership amongst the overlords... if anyone's fucked in the head, it's YOU, Al."
Tears.exe was quickly disabled to avoid any particular displays of unwanted emotion.
"Hmmm, perhaps. But I notice that even now in the ruins of your reputation... you still cannot help but blame others for your own innate failures, Vincent. Your signal is radiating with shame and fury right now, it's delightful!" Alastor makes a show of tapping his chin. "Why, I do believe I recall that I warning you of this very outcome. And when I went to the trouble of it, why I believe you replied something specific... what was it now? Oh yes."
Vox's eyes widen as radio dials spin into place and his own voice emanated from the clenched, glowing teeth. "You can say your last I Told You So while i slit your throat..."
Whatever clever statement the deer was about to dangle over the ipad's head about lacking the necessary limbs for such a feat, was drowned out by a horrified, "He was going to kill you?!"
The three overlords shared a very pointed look between them.
"Er, didn't you teach blondie how overlords work, Grampa-phone?" Velvette asked, waving at the soppy yet furious princess standing several feet away with clenched fists.
"Overlord or not, I wont have someone threatening people that matter to me, and especially not when they let themselves get captured to protect me..."
Alastor's ears went flat in horror. "Charlotte, that was merely a byproduct of a far larger matter that-..."
How to stop her taking this out of context so severely?
Velvette notices the general look of muted panic on Alastor's face and can't help but laugh. The optics were delightfully abstract, and the little princess would take whatever she wanted out of a scenario to warp it about her own ideals... like some kind of anti-Velvette, always seeking light in a situation. Girl was #bonkers but she did pad out the news cycle on slow days with her shennanigans, so she did have some sort of celeb power to her nonsense.
"Really? You'll square up to us when you're power's all fucked up without a care, but the bint starts sloppy emotional whatever this is, and that sends you?" She can't help but snort a little at the absurdity.
"Oh yeah, run away from genuine emotion again, like the big bad overlord you are!" Vox mumbles, infuriating Alastor, who smacks him across the screen hard enough to dent the case.
"This is why deals are best done without sentimental drivel impacting the terms." Alastor drawls, turning to face Charlie. "Charlotte, the terms were set specifically to break the moment Vox entered your immediate vicinity, he has no sense of decorum or the ability to keep his damn hands to himself. If he had attempted something more nefarious, I had an alternate plan to break the deal and tear him apart. Nothing to get... THIS... over." He gestured at the big wet eyes aimed his way.
"Oh yeah, like how? Trip her into me with one of your stupid little dolls?" Vox sneers.
"If needs must, then yes. But had you attempted to touch her in a less appropriate manner, you would not be alive right now. Although, the fact you persist after such public failure... your name, face and brand in shambles, and mocked by everyone in Hell and Heaven at this point."
Vox glitches again. "And what about you, fucker? After Vel, Val and I took you on a tour of hell as our prisoner you can't pretend your reputation's intact. You're just as fucked as we are!"
"As you are. The other two seem to be spinning this quite well, actually. And no, the right gossip in the right ears can easily share the truth of the deal and that it was an attempt to constrain your madness... well, it seems I will be coming up Rosie." Alastor laughed at his own punnery. Niffty did as well, mostly because she enjoyed laughing with Alastor.
"Don't get too comfortable, I can spin that right back on its head." Velvette threatens, waving her phone in emphasis.
"You can certainly try, dear, but I assure you that any established overlord has an extensive network of souls and spies across the Rings who are quite well placed to ensure rumours are placed in the right circles. And doubt is drizzled on your online chicanery... many of the older members of hell prefer news via the cannibal chain of informal gossip, than to fiddle with your electronic lies."
"Vox can just hypnotise the lot of 'em via subliminal messages next time I post a video of my new fashion line. Tell the people to only hear us."
Alastor mockingly played her own voice back to her. "Well, not after that particular little secret gets out on the next broadcast, no. You really do need to stop relying so heavily on your technology, it will become obsolete one day... and then where will you be?"
Velvette scoffs. "Says the FOSSIL with the fuckin' radio show in 2026!"
"Hmmm, I understand that Niffty and her scientific friend have been instrumental in utilising streaming services to facilitate online broadcasting for the souls unable to catch shows due to death or other commitments. And do waste time attempting to locate the site... I suspect even you cannot get past whatever firewalls have been installed around integrated curses and coding."
Vox's mouth hung so far open it fell right out of the screen.
"What the FUCK did you just say? When the hell did you learn what any of that means???"
Alastor dropped him back into Velvette's hands. "I used to repair your head when you were partially pulverised, did I not? I dislike any technology that you have your little chips and eyes in, Vincent, but I am not ignorant of how things work. If I did not, it would be more complicated to locate and burn out those little 'bugs' you persistently send into the hotel."
Velvette is looking between them. "Was you two like, a thing? Because that's the vibe I'm getting."
"No." Alastor looked annoyed at the insinuation.
"Well I thought we were but Mr I Haven't Got Fucking Feelings over there ruined it." Vox snapped. "And how'd that turn out for you, huh? Trapped in this dinky hotel with Antichrist Barbie, a broken angel, your creepy maid kid thing, and the drunk gambler. Not really top of the heap, huh?"
"You literally had an entire lifetime of growing close to people, copying every facet of their being, and then murdering them to take their place. You will have to forgive the lack of trust, or don't, I don't particularly care. And the saddest, or perhaps the funniest part of it all, is that you couldn't see the joke. You, Vincent, are a massive ball of every face and story you've stolen, but there's no oneunderneath it... you change everything about yourself to enamour the next target and then become them. I did not want to pal around with someone like me. You needed to be You, or it would get awfully boring." Alastor shrugged.
"Now, would you like to borrow one of Niffty's blades? I suspect we can tape it upon your person, like the infamous Stabby the Roomba Niffy is so delighted by on the internet. I have requested to release several into the hotel for educational purposes, but note these ideas are not being approved as of yet."
"Can you fucking shut up for a second? You're giving me whiplash the way you jump around. It's always been annoying." Vox visibly gritted his teeth. "You just fill the world with NOISE for NO REASON!"
"Oh-ho-hoh! Pot? Kettle. My good toaster bath recipient.
And yet you listened so attentively in your little monument to overcompensation... such a good little pet. Yet the way you treat your so-called equals, reminds one more of someone thinking himself the master of unruly children. Intriguing."
"We're equal in the tower, you ancient freak. Nothing you said to twist Vox's dial to Fucking Idiot when he was in his evil plan era has stuck around now you've fucked off." Vel snarks, glaring at the assembled.
"I assure you, the only thing twisted is your current sesationalisation of the facts! Did I not tell you, Vox, that this would blow up in your face? That you would fuck it up, never fill your cup?"
"Yeah, you also said I was broken from the start and nothing would ever be enough. If you're pretending that was some kind of helpful statement, I'm going to find a way to break your radio console, even without a body."
Alastor actually bristled. "Unless you wish to join the others screaming for eternity without end in my choral broaddcast of agony, you'd best rethink such foolish statements, Vincent. You are broken, and the joke of it all is that you are the only one who canot see it... not once in your life or afterlife have you felt content with what you have, you are always seeking the next step up."
He wags a finger at Vox's open mouth. "Ah-ah-Ahhh! I'm talking. I may not believe in this nonsensical therapy thing that Charlotte is doing here, but I strongly suspect if one cracked open one of her little psychology books, you'd have a whole chapter dedicated to what in all the rings is wrong with you."
Charlie steps in again, and Alastor debated shaking her off.
"Al, please, he's had enough... that's not how we do breakthroughs here, you can't just drop something like that on a patient."
"Charlotte, not only is he not a patient, I am not in fact required or bound by your creed... we have been tearing each other apart in various battles for near a century. Gloating, and in his case showboating, do tend to be part of that deal..."
"But there's a better way!"
"...seriously, did you not explain like, anything about Overlords to her?" Velvette is throwing serious side eye at Alastor now.
"Believe me, I have made strong attempts..."
"But it doesn't have to BE that way anymore, we all worked together to stop the machine exploding, right?" Charlie was starting to sound a little desperate. "That means something, right? RIGHT, AL?"
"Nah, we live here. If it was all fucked up, there's nothing to rule and no one to sell to. All about optics, luv." Velvette answered, shrugging. Not a single overlord wanted to be reminded about the literal kumbaya moment they'd had. Ruined the image.
"Indeed. It was necessary to our ongoing survival, Charlotte. If only we had not come to such a circumstance..." He threw a pointed glare at Vox, and turned his back, clearly done with the situation. "Husker, Niffty, show our guests the door... unless Vox wishes to take the L and remain as a guest to fix..." He throws a gesture at the ipad that encompassed all of him.
"I'm going to fucking kill you one day, Al." Vox vowed, sparking in Velvette's hands. "I'm going to enjoy watching the light drain from your eyes..."
Alastor started to laugh, leaving Charlie not sure if this was some sort of signal for mental health first aid, or if this was like... an Overlord thing.
"I look forward to your next attempt. Now do get the fuck out of my territory... before you require reformation."
"We'll go, but only 'cause the rank-ass vibes from this place are making my skin crawl. Might want to keep an eye on the news the next few days, do-gooders, watch how a professional spins a shitshow." Velvette winked, flicked her hair and sauntered out. Flanked by Husk and Niffty.
Charlie was trying to find a kind way to bring up what the fuck that was about, in therapeutic terms, when Baxter popped up from a hatch in the floor. Startling her skyward.
Vaggi turned to him immediately. "Was it enough time? Did it work?"
"Affirmative!"
"Wait, what...?"
"Charlie! Daddy's home, and he has a preeeeeseeeeeent!" Lucifer yelled as the portal appeared feet away. Cherri dragged a semi-conscious Angel Dust through, pink drool down his shirt and worse for wear, but here and alive.
"What about...?" Vaggi started.
Poppets streamed from the portal, saluting the King mockingly before dissolving back into Alastor's shadows. "I believe he has been adequately sorted as well... and our guests should find a delightful display of the vile creature upon their return."
"But I thought you couldn't, you know..." Charlie hinted with her eyes at her father, catching on.
"I can't, no... but if I happened to be glowing in the right place to completely empty the moth's brain while the evil dolls did... THAT... to him... well, I wasn't the one who hurt him." The king shrugged. "Did it work, given it wasn't a one on one smackdown? Isn't that against the rules or whatever?"
A glowing green chain appeared at Angel's throat.
"Oh your Lowness, it's Hell, there are no rules..." Alastor grinned. "But on occasion, there are perks to a plan well implemented.
Charlie frowned, frustrated to have been left out again. "But, how did you...?"
"Word passing from sinner to sinner is that Velvette was shamed by having to apologise to Carmilla, and this lowered her status... isn't it strange Vox was not made to offer penance for his own crimes, hmmm? The doll thinks she controls all rumours, all information out there... and yet, she is just as susceptible to bait as those she bamboozles. It was a matter of time before she brought Vox to the Hotel, leaving the moth unguarded."
"And you used that time to save Angel?"
His ears flattened as that overly emotional weepy joy filled her tone. "I took the opportunity to remove an annoying overlord I have never agreed with..."
Husk had returned and all but threw himself to his knees by Angel, looking over the state of the arachnid. "It's bad, but we can get him through this... me'n'Cherri have it from here."
Charlie was bouncing on her heels beside him, which told Alastor the princess had something on her mind she wanted to discuss but didn't know how to approach. He sighed internally.
"Yes, Charlotte?"
"I'm juuuust wondering if maaaaybe you'd consider letting Angel out of his chains... because you don't seem like you would want to, uh, Use him in the same way Valentino did in the contract...?" She broaches.
Bile rose in his throat at the very idea. "Of course not. It will need to be rewritten... much like the others. A sugar-addled toddler could have managed better and more balanced contracts than the moth did, Angel's was in CRAYON! The ridiculousness is exceptionally galling..."
"Then... you will?"
"No."
She deflates. "No?"
"No." He repeats. "Angel, in particular, is a high profile target for abuse, extortion or other depravity right now. It may be necessary to be able to call him back by chain quickly, and to have the wrath of the Radio Demon as deterrant for any of the basement-dwelling cretins of this pit who may seek to take advantage of the moth's former cohort. One doesn't want to be careless with newly acquired souls lest they lose them just as swiftly as they were gained..."
He heard the delighted squeal in an almost doppler effect as the stronger-than-she-looked princess immediately breached his personal space for a hug. Alastor had to mentally count to ten to avoid biting her in automatic response... although it must be noted several radios across the ring exploded without warning.
-------
END
I have no idea.
had wanted to throw in a jab about Vox being like 'well maybe I could rock your world and fix your uptight attitude' and Alastor to swat back with, 'based on the sad little performance with the moth, I must say that Valentino is a consummate actor... I almost believed he thought you might let him climax as well." or soemthing along those lines to kick Vox right in to the ego.
However, as you can see when the idea petered out, it uh, didn't write that way.
Charlotte, in her infinite wisdom as head counsellor, the ink on her hell Uni certificate still drying as she tacked the frame on the wall, decided to make some changes.
Why should the staff be allowed priviledges that the sinner guests they had, couldn't participate in? Or more likely, SHOULDN'T for the sake of their redemption journey. After all, temptation got them down here, so if they removed it that should help them to become winners in no time!
Vaggi had tried to caution her that this could cause some low morale among the guests, but... well, she was willing to try for Charlie. After all, Vaggi had been the one who was against the bar in the first place, when Alastor installed it... they'd both been surprised when Lucifer added in the area to the new hotel. Though the ex-orcist secretly assumed it was more to do with showing up the red guy and proving he loved his daughter, than anything else.
Overnight, the hotel became a testing ground for Charlie's new theories on Helping Sinners become Winners! And Becoming Worthy!
Something about the wording really grated on Vaggi's nerves, and she had a sinking feeling she wouldn't be alone in it.
Husk stumbled over to the barren area where once his station stood the next morning in bleary eyed confusion. "The fuck is this?" he managed, trying not to wince at the blindingly colourful display.
Charlie was vibrating out of her skin in excitement. "A juice bar! Oooooh isn't it amazing? Dad helped me change it over last night, so now sinners on the path of righteousness can't be tempted anymore!"
Whatever her blinding grin was hoping to get from the grizzled former overlord, it wasn't a look of horrified disdain that slowly soured into something approaching restrained rage. "Look, Princess..."
He was clearly casting about for something... less than what his heart wanted to share. "I get you think this is a good idea but you need to hear me when I say this's fucked up."
She began to deflate in confusion, then bucked up with self-assurance. "Look, I know it's going to be hard, but I spoke to Vaggi and you can have the whole day off to deal with any hangovers from not getting the 'hair of the hellhound', and then we'll show you how to work the juicer and blenders tomorrow... oooh, you'll love the pineangonut smoothies! I had the fruit brought up from Gluttony just because my guests deserve the best!"
His expression darkened. "Charlie, this is going to kill people."
She can't help but snort. "Okay, that's a liiiiittle dramatic, isn't it? I know withdrawal can't be fun... but everyone will make it through. And then we can have a smoothie party as part of the talking circle tomorrow! Oooh, maybe with some of the other snacks Aunty Beez sent!"
There was no reaching her now.
Husk felt his insides begin to roil and clench. A hangover was the least of his problems if he couldn't get some form of booze around here... maybe Al could help. Fuck, he hated asking the guy anything but... the not-deer bastard also happened to be weirdly loyal to his employees as long as he could laugh at their predicaments. Al would magic up a bottle for him. At least the guy understood the limitations of sinner forms...
Til he ran into the guy, Husk'd just have to hope what was still in his system was enough... or he'd have to break into the first aid kit for some of the rubbing alcohol. And he knew from experience that shit was downright vile.
His limbs were starting to shake.
Damn. Thought he had more time.
"Princess, you are gonna pay for this if I have to regenerate cause'a some nonsense idea you got in your head..." he grumbled to no one, trying to remain upright through sheer force of rage at her persistent stupidity. She just needed to listen for once, hear what sinners had to say instead of bulldozing over 'em without any idea.
She was like a new doctor who never let the patient finish describing their symptoms, already talking over them and assuming she knew best. Handing over pills without checking for allergies or if her assumptions were right.
Pain began to radiate from his stomach outward. Not hunger, not quite... but when your body was literally formed to consume alcohol, then being without for even a bit was a wild ride. Hadn't had a shortage since '87... so this would be rough.
his wings dragged on the ground as he made his way painfully towards the elevators, the stairs seeming too cruel a mountain to climb this morning, and startled as the firm throwing arm of Cherri Bomb took some of his weight.
"I saw. Silly cunt's gone and rushed into things again, and we'll suffer for it... but I probably got something hidden somewhere to tide you over, right mate?" She spoke in his direction, getting them in the elevator and moving. She looked tired. "Think she had Vags go through my room, missing all my emergency kits... and my explosives. Doesn't she realise I'm the thing that's gonna detonate if she doesn't give my shit back?"
Husk chuckled. "Don't think she's worked that out yet. But I'm going to enjoy seeing this backfire..."
Already, confused voices were rising in the floor below them as the sinners sneaking down for an early morning drink were finding no husk and no bar to tend. He could almost taste the fury swelling from below.
Infantalising. That's what it was. the Princess treating them like godsdamned kiddies who needed her to smile and talk sweetly at them as she put things up on the high shelves so no one could hurt themselves.
Well, sometimes the kids bite back. He sure as hell was planning to... once the world stopped wavering violently...
Charlie was starting to get some not so helpful comments in the suggestion box. Mostly about what she could cram into Her Box for removing the bar…
Well, sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind. That’s all.
They’d understand after everyone got a few days sobriety and clarity under their metaphorical belts. Perhaps she should offer light meditation this afternoon to help the guests centre themselves?
Vaggi had already had to manage a medical emergency from one of the guests. Found some plant looking sinner wilting away and begging for alcohol in the lounge area, shuddering as if this was something more dire than merely a bad hangover. Charlie had offered some generic painkillers, nothing addictive in the hotel of course, and tried to provide a soothing presence.
She’d been a little hurt when Vaggi asked her to go and check on the suggestion box, because she thought her actions were helping, but the expression her girlfriend was trying to hide said that perhaps Charlie’s attempts to get a healing mantra going were not being well received. Maybe she needed a more soothing chant option?
Sinners were just so used to having their vices on a daily basis, surely it would just be a matter of waiting out any withdrawal symptoms to get them through to a happier, healthier them! After all, how could they get to heaven if they still drank, smoked, shot up, snorted and engaged in obscene violence?
Speaking of which… she’d noticed that Niffty had been a little more bloodthirsty lately, given the reduction in bugs to hunt. Though her cleaning remained immaculate, as always. It chafed at Charlie that she really had put a lot on the redhead’s shoulders, this was a massive establishment after all, and Niffty had to be tired. Between her constant cleaning, patrolling the vents, killing vermin and ferreting the stashes out of guest rooms.
Something at the back of her brain itched. The compulsion to clean had always seemed… a little unhealthy, especially when the sinner started to delight in the filth, the difficulty of stain removal, and recent refusal to remove stains she then went on to name. It felt… like there might be a clinical name for that.
In fact… Charlie found herself drifting back to one of the textbooks from HellU’s psychology course, and started to flip through the index with fevered excitement. Her fingers trailed over the disorders, and she squealed a little as the potential diagnosis came up… Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, of course!
Technically she should run some diagnostic testing with Niffty, but… well, the little maid was hardly the cooperative type, and her mania was so Obvious to anyone with eyes. Charlie cracked the book open at the right pages and read through the information within, covering basics, treatment options and medications. She wasn’t technically able to prescribe medications, not being a psychiatrist, but this was hell and she was the princess… what pharmacy in Sloth would deny a request for a few pharmaceuticals?
It worked with Angel, after all.
Her mouth fell into a moue of displeasure, frustrated that he’d decided to go back to Valentino after all the progress he’d made at the hotel. It had really upset her. Falling back into old habits when he was the closest to redemption, when he could finally BE someone important… someone worthy of praise.
Still, no time to dwell on that. Charlie shook her head to dislodge the negative thoughts, and put on her best therapeutic smile. Time to go and help another sinner!
Alastor’s jubilant mood from getting one over on Vox had lasted for a full week before the ridiculousness of the new hotel began to grate on his nerves. Sinners were underfoot in all the directions one could imagine, including the ceiling, and more than a few were ignorant of his abilities… or had fallen for the false surrender to the Vees.
One even dared to try and challenge him, offering a chair to fornicate with. Though for the afterlife of him, Alastor still couldn’t figure out how that would even be possible… though the degenerates in the Moth’s studio likely could have four videos out by close of business if motivated properly by their contract holder.
Charlotte had had the sheer audacity to express upset at his response to the overly arrogant little fool, and asked him not to ‘resort to violence’ next time… as if she had no concept of who she had been addressing! And after all he had suffered to ensure her little pals came out unscathed in the grand conflict, she owed him at least a half dozen edible sinners of his choosing from among the guests.
She’d blanched at the suggestion. Ah well.
And then she’d said something wildly uncouth… the little airheaded creature had dared to tell him, no… to Decree in her little uppity tone that she was Banning the consumption and storage of sinner meat in the hotel. Did she have any idea how ridiculous that was?
She’d also tried to hedge a clause for non-violence, and Charlotte was quite lucky he didn’t bite off her head in a literal fashion for such nonsense.
Well, he’d admonished her her silly fancies, and questioned what exactly their cannibal and bette guests should eat then?
Only sheer force of will kept his jaw from hitting the floor when she’d used the word ‘tofu’ and ‘meat substitutes’ at least a half dozen times in her overly excited, shiny-eyed ramblings of an explanation. He’d been completely unable to hold back a laugh.
“Princess, do you think that if the cannibals could eat other things, they would? It is a Need. Just as Oxygen is to living things. Do you understand that etiquette and Rosie’s rules are the only things restaining them from simply hunting every sinner in hell?”
The little creature had dared to roll her eyes at him!
“Oh Al, look… I know they Think they need it, but it’s like any addiction, everyone Thinks they Need it. If we can just offer an alternative and get through any withdrawal pangs, then they’ll see it’ll be worth it! No one’s getting to Heaven if they consume the flesh of other people, right?”
Alastor’s teeth ground against one another, blood trickling down the corner of his mouth. He could see this was another of those times when she had fearlessly decided that everyone should follow her as she charged off into the dangerous unknown, despite the warning of those more aware and prepared than herself. Everyone would suffer for such foolishness.
He’d already noted the nonsense with the bar, and sent a poppet toddling off with booze for Husker. Charlotte didn’t understand what happened when he ‘dried out’... more mummification than sobriety. She didn’t understand, or seemingly want to understand, the world sinners existed in; what they lived through and experienced on a daily basis just to exist.
The run in with the idiot sinner / lunchtime prey had occurred when he’d come to investigate why Charlotte had confiscated the item from her poppet and poured it down the sink. What fresh malarky was she up to now?
It had been worse than anticipated.
Fine. He shall play nice, and simply have items smuggled into the hotel for himself and the cannibals and bettes present. It would not do to starve a cannibal.
“You will come to regret this decision, quite soon, I suspect.” He tried one last time, and felt frustration rise as her naive facade failed to crack. She waved him off.
“IT’s not going to be that bad, I promise.” Charlotte pauses, calculation in her eyes. “And I’ve asked Dad to ward the hotel against sinner flesh being brought in, or consumed… and you know you’re not allowed to hunt the guests. Don’t test me, Al, this is going to be good for everyone… just think, you can have regular food again!”
He eyed her with a weary wariness born of dealing with someone who had no idea what they were trying to achieve, once again stepping boldly onto the path of adventure without a plan.
“Charlotte… reconsider.” Alastor intoned, and fell into shadows.
She stood there blinking for a moment, then shrugged. He was a melodramatic overlord… what could possibly go wrong if they stopped letting cannibalism run rampant around the place? Maybe other sinners would even feel safer to come stay if they knew the cannibals could be… well, not Trained to eat real food, but… weaned off Sinner meat?
She hummed to herself, heading towards the top floor where her father was probably getting into some sort of mess. She really needed to talk to him about his anxiety and post traumatic stress disorder… the books had given her a whole new list of possibilities for treatments! But first… she needed him to stop overcompensating with the Ducks.
Alastor arrived in Husker’s room to find a surprise guest, Miss Bomb, trying to manage the writhing mass of fur on the bed. Husker swore and twisted, wings spasming irregularly as his body fought the oncoming regeneration without any way to forestall it.
He conjured another bottle, snarling as golden light whisked it away.
“Charlotte has gone far too far this time.”
“Too bloody right, Red. Look at this fella, he’s about to cark it if we can’t get him some grog.”
“Yes, but I’m afraid we can’t get it Here. Her weak willed father has warded the place against substances or other things she believes are vices…” Alastor’s stomach clenched sharply, a poignant reminder of the hunger always burning below the surface. It always rose alongside his fury, his bloodlust and his frustration; which was why a well fed fleshfeaster was the best option for all about the place.
Cherri clearly twigged to his statement, and quirked her eyebrow. “Oh, and what’s she got on you, spooky? No more jumpscares?”
He mused on the idea of dodging the question, but perhaps having someone able to lob a bomb at him if… certain instincts took over, wasn’t the worst idea. “Why, she’s banned the consumption, storage or procurement of sinner meat in the hotel and grounds! Our dear princess is convinced that tofu and meat substitutes shall suffice!”
The expression crossing the bold aussie’s face was nearly comical in how horrified it was. “Is she fucked in the head? Doesn’t she know you guys go feral when you get the munchies?”
“Hmmm, I did try to inform her, and yet…” He shrugged and twirled his staff. “Now, I believe we need to go out on the town as it were to enable Husker to take in his required level of alcohol to avoid the muss and fuss of regeneration.”
“Won’t work.” Cherri scowled. “Got a mate in room 453, she and her group went straight for the city when they heard no booze, but anytime they tried to grab a drink it’d disappear into golden light. We’ve been chipped or something… fuck me, this is bullshit!”
“Indeed. What about the first aid kits? I understand husker has-...”
“Emptied. Thinkings Vags did that. She thinks ahead. Just wish she’d think for herself for once and get her head outta Charlie’s box!”
Not exactly how he’d phrase it but… accurate.
Alastor was about to impart a quip of his own when hysterical sobbing wailed through the grate to their immediate left, and a distraught Niffty struggled out. Her motions were sluggish and uncertain, but her distress was real.
He picked her up in a black tendril and brought her to eyelevel. “My dear Niffty, what has you so out of sorts?” What has the blonde idiot done now? He only just managed to bite off the end of the sentence. He could deal with nonsense placed upon himself, but Husker and Niffty were his alone to toy with… and he disliked what was his being messed with by outside forces.
“Ch-Ch-Ch-...” She struggled with the words through gasping breaths. “Charlie said I-I-I-...”
Whatever came next was hypersonic and made his ears buzz unpleasantly, before she fell into wails again. As if her tiny evil heart was broken in twain.
“What has she said, Niffty?” he coaxed.
“C-Can’t clean! Hav-have to… take these…” Her little palm opened to a bottle of some sort of medication that he knew without reading the label was some sort of cognition suppressant. The rage was rising alongside his hunger, and the longing to rip just one of the Princess’s arms off to smack her with it before devouring the flesh, sounded so tempting right now.
“No you most certainly do not!” he snarled, snatching the medicants and tossing them away. “Charlotte does not have the qualifications to prescribe medications, she barely passed her counselling degree on her father’s coattails…” He’d checked into it extensively when she’d started forcing Angel Dust to take cocktails of pills, which seemed wrong even to a hell-loving overlord like himself.
How very like Valentino she was, in her own way. Convinced she was right, using her power to exert control over others, punishing those that disagreed, and now forcing substances on people without their consent. He tasted bile and blood on his tongue.
“Too loud in my head, Sir… can’t clean… need to clean!” Niffty sobbed harder, and Cherri took her into her arms with the care of an explosives expert.
“Alright, alright. We’ll make a mess for you here, huh?” she offered.
The lips trembled. “It goes away in bright light…” Niffty whimpered.
Right. Alastor snarled, feeling himself expand.
He was going to go eat the Princess.
“Stop it…” Husker croaked out. “Rampage like this… no coming back…”
Damn it all, the cat was right.
“Then how do you propose we overthrown this tyrannical nonsense thrust upon us?” Alastor questions the barely alive feline.
Husk’s weary eyes met his own. “Simple… we don’t.”
The despondent duck-loving monarch didn’t seem mentally present at the dinner table Charlotte had forced them all to set themselves down at this evening. A ludicrously long display of generic fare on a too-long table in what Alastor assumed would possibly pass as a ballroom in future.
Much like the physics-defying dimensions of his own room, it was far more spacious within than without, and accommodated all the guests. Far fewer than had started their day at the rancid little redemption project, he noted with a level of satisfaction.
Lucifer didn’t even flinch as the Overlord’s claws cracked the wooden back of the chair as he fought to control his rising instincts, the rage pulsing so invitingly below the surface. He could taste the different sinners’ scents on the air already… and he was not even as afflicted as the others who partook in sinner flesh. Well, in the culinary sense at least.
His predator’s gaze lingered instinctually upon the few cannibals and bettes about the dinner table, who appeared a heartbeat away from losing composure altogether. The way their dark welled eyes tracked the movements of those around them, a sharp claw piercing through the tablecloth as their stomachs clenched with hunger, a surreptitious wipe of drool from their lips with a napkins so carefully choreographed to avoid detection, and how their breathing began to mirror that of unconsciously selected prey.
The cannibals and bettes could normally stave this off far longer when in the company of other members of the town, as they were rarely classified as food unless some egregious crime had occurred and Rosie sanctioned a Restorative Justice Hunt. Or they had access to other substances to ease the ache, like alcohol, drugs, even violent brawls to release the instincts in a safer way.
Here they were caged predators surrounded by succulent morsels just waiting to be devoured, and the awareness of just how many bodies were about them was starting to erode the politeness from the beasts within; turning their perception from Other People to Prey.
It would not be long.
Alastor sat with greater force than necessary, the clunky movement serving as distraction and a means to express his own personal disgust with the princess’s ridiculousness. Cherri was helping Niffty to expel the odd medicaments, and making a most unappealing mess in the process to the delight of the ashen, clammy maid sinner.
Husker was, most unfortunately, deceased at the moment.
Much like others in the hotel who had not yet arrived, including that odd Willow creature from Room 32, he had slipped into a comatose state and deteriorated rapidly in the span of just a few hours. Alastor found himself hoping that the winged cat would simply remain deceased for as long as possible, for the moment he regenerated to health, it would all begin again.
The others? He might pause in the corners of their rooms to see if any offered interesting insights or wails in their delirium that he might incorporate into the next show. He cared not for anything or anyone who was not his, or under his purview.
Others at the table were shaking, pallid, eyes darting furtively about the room and startling at nothing.Desperate for a soothing substance that would not be supplied. And yet more seemed to be barely containing themselves from marinating the unappealing whatever-this-was on the plates, bodies weaving back and forth in sluggish nausea as if all their energy was to remain upright.
Ah, this was going to be far more explosive than anticipated. So many weaklings triggering his own desperate need to Hunt, to Rend and Tear and FEAST… he could barely stand it!
Something with scales and four eyes faceplanted into their meal down the table, clearly deceased, and the nearest cannibette launched herself across the expanse to bite at their throat. The thrill of the spectacle raised his heartbeat, smile growing violently wide in delight at the anticipated gore… only for blasted Vagathina May Delphine the Eighth to force Matilda back at with that damned spear of hers. Charlotte standing halfway between the deceased and her previous spot by her father, looking between the two desperately.
The King hadn’t reacted, Alastor noted. He seemed oddly flat… more than his usual malaise, one might surmise, and it didn’t take his heightened instincts but a second to sift through his oddly nauseating apple scent to identify more of the medicaments wafting from the man. He was both thrilled and startled at this revelation. Had Charlotte thought to usurp the king by drugging him? He felt pride surge for but a moment, as the more banal reality crashed down.
It was far more likely the tepid little mouse had sought to regulate the royal fool’s mania in some way. He had idly compared Niffty’s desire to clean to keep her mind ‘all tidy’ with the same way the little monarch would frantically make ducks and jump to meet any of his darling daughter’s demands. It was no great leap to see Charlotte had decided to medicate away the alleged problems without a single thought about the impact…
More astonishing was that the medication appeared to have an affect on a being that, allegedly, was formed before time even existed. Had Hell weakened the little thing so?
Alstor had to push down the urge to Kill, to Conquer, that his hunger sought; a weak foe was a dead one, a nourishing meal. He tilted his head, musing. No, perhaps it was something else… perhaps the king had simply allowed the pills to take effect because that was what Charlotte wanted. That was more aligned with the nature of his powers after all.
It must be noted that the wards were still infuriatingly effective even with the king so vegetative, which was grating to the Overlord, as he was still seeking some way around them or through them. To no avail.
“Dad!” Charlotte cried out, startling the King to animation, and Lucifer jerked upright like a marionette about to perform. He flicked a hand and restrained the cannibette, idly, without a single thought for the process.
Ah yes, the little princess always defaulting to daddy’s power when times grew tough. The sort of thing he loathed in a person… the sort of thing he had made sure to deal with in life, and the afterlife once he saw too many terrible overlords mismanaging the place. Their screams echoed on his personal frequencies, occasionally leaked to air if he was being generous… or needed to remind people of their place.
The internal music was all that was holding him into this regular shape and mindset, currently. As additional sinners toppled from chairs to spasm, create a mess on the carpet, or otherwise decease themselves from a lack of their required or even merely preferred imbibement… other fleshfeasters began to lose control. All restraint thrown to the wind as gnashing teeth and flashing claws bore down on the dead, the dying and those who begged for regeneration against the pain of being Without.
Such a delightful juxtaposition, formal attire and frocks, and a tableau of fangs and claws all desperate for blood. Sadly, the golden light would hold their jaws open and away from the throats of sinners who should be meals; their claws blunting on nothing.But once in that level of frenzy, the bloodlust did not assuage until food was obtained.
Charlotte’s insulting false meat offerings, poorly spiced as they were, would simply not suffice. Any cannibal or bette who managed to choke it down out of politeness faced wearing it within mere moments, as their bodies rejected foreign substances.
“Dad, Alastor, help us!” Charlotte called, using fireworks to blind some of the flesh-hungry predators circling her. Desperate for food enough to take on the Princess herself.
“Now, assholes!” Vaggalia Blueberry Jnr snapped, breaking Bartholomew’s ribcage with a violent kick across the room. “How the fuck can we stop them?”
Alastor can’t help the way a laugh bubbles out of his throat, and rises, echoing in the room at the sheer absurdity of the question. “STOP THEM? My dear, this is your very doing! They are trapped in a desperate cycle of Feast or Starve, and you have blunted their only way to break free… ah, if only you had listened!”
He was losing control of himself. “And you know the most DELIGHTFUL part? All these deaths are on your hands! These fools, and dear Husker… an eternal cycle of torment just for the sake of your little feelings. Well now, Charlotte… are we people to you yet? Or simply Winners to Be you haven’t found worthy? Hmmm, do tell…”
Oh, she was starting to cry. Rage and self pity.
The taste of it was sweet on his tongue as the Rage and Hunger swept through him like a rising tide. His body began to elongate, joints cracking and shadows lengthening in anticipation as the grin grew obscenely large, too wide and menacing. He resented the muzzle of golden light, but needs must.
“And you know the most delightful part, my dear?” He grinned, eyes flickering to radio dials. “It seems I have found myself a little loophole…”
Charlotte went stiff with horror, and Vaggi had to drag her into the sky to protect her from the fighting below.
“Why… I quit!” He laughed, light fading as he turned and launched his open maw right at the little king.
They’d been fuzzy to start with and then blossomed out to big ducky things.
Heh, ducks.
Hmm, what about Ducks though? Charlie had said no more to his pretty ducks… and now things were all fluffy-fuzzy like the world wasn’t real. Well, to be fair, nothing was really real, he and the others had helped make it from-... uh, from the thing that blows mortal minds apart when he whispers the name…
How did it go?
Kreesh… no, more resonant frequency, er, Byhthl-... damn, having this whole physical body thing had drawbacks. The vocal range was terrible!
He giggled at the floppy sensation of his body’s tongue. It was so weird! Even after all these millennia, the oddities of the semi-humanoid form still intrigued and occasionally horrified him. It was like a pet you lived in! Always needing something…
Hold on, coherent thought was returning. He felt his body reacting to panicked cries, but not consciously. And that…? That scared him.
Lucifer hadn’t been this out of it since… since Lillith left and he drank all the Beezlejuice in the palace. He wa never, ever, ever on the name of his father may he fall as well, doing that again. Just… never again.
He didn’t know where former angels went when they died, but he’d felt close to finding out when the angelic hangover kicked in.
Something at the back of his brain was tingling, like a little alarm trying to bring his attention to an important matter. Well, no. It was more all over, but trying to talk to corporeal beings about existing as something near infinite with tendrils throughout the realm was hard when all they saw was a little shell and-...
No, focus, there’s a Problem!
He knows the feeling. It says there’s something Not Right and he, as the King and Charlie’s Awesome and Loving Daddy, needs to Find it and Fix it.
At first, there is consternation.
His fingers didn’t want to cooperate at all, which was rude. He could feel something dancing over his cosmic essence; it almost felt like a vibration ran through them. As if… a string had been plucked, or severed, and he could feel it screaming in the silence left behind.
Some part of his leftover Grace must be protesting taking the awful candies Charlotte gave him… but she’d been so sincere, and really wanted to help. So he’d let the little things fill him with cotton and quietness, like she promised it would.
It was the least he could do after all these many years of ignoring her calls. Of not being the Dad she needed when she needed him. Of not being the husband that Lillith had-...
His core clenched.
Not quite a heart, not how humans and sinners would understand, but something ached within at the idea of never being enough after all they had suffered together throughout millennia. Something that would remain wounded until the revelation beasts were set free to sunder the known worlds and bring the whole thing to its natural conclusion.
“DAD!” The horrified shriek of a familiar voice breaks through some of the internal fog, and Lucifer’s body jerks in its seat, eyes blinking mechanically to focus on the Now. He was always so bad at staying in linear time… why had they set the universe so mundanely? He always thought of existence as a stained glass window, fragments of then and now and maybe and before and could be all shimmering in a pretty pattern…
Wait, what was she calling about?
Sharp teeth were heading his way. Right… not good. The jagged shards easily his height or greater, and not constrained one iota by golden light. Wait, was that the Ping? A snapped ward?
Instinct fell into place and he allowed his Grace to purge the remnants of the odd candies from his system, clarity snapping back into place like a sharp slap across the face. It was disorienting and yet, oddly thrilling. Like hearing the war trumpets sounding out and filling his essence with daring.
Who would dare…? Oh.
His face fell.
Yeah, that fucker sure would test him like this.
Shadowy tendrils lashed out at the king, tearing half the table into splinters before him and sending his chair careening into the far wall with a loud crunch. A bellow made the King squint a little from the volume, but this was hardly the first overlord he’d put into their place… as a means of self protection of course. Not seeking to Hurt anyone.
A fun little loophole he’d found a few years back to prevent his own demise.
With a flare of his wings, golden light encircling them like a spotlight, Lucifer easily brushed aside the shadowy tendrils reaching to rend him to pieces. The deer shrieked in that awful static mix that irritated every last nerve as the barely-divine glow melted his pit-born powers.
Yeah, bet that stung there, Clifford.
He tempered that thought carefully, as if ensuring he wouldn’t be censored for that little slip up by having another divine rug-pull from above. But when no retribution came, he hovered above the glaring dials fixated on his every twitch. Something about that seemed off for the posh prick but he wasn’t sure.
Time to antagonise, stall a bit.
“Whoa there Bambi, you finally want to try the Dad Off part 2, huh? And you couldn’t think of a better opening lyric than attempted regicide? WEAK!” He laughed, diving about the renewed attempts to pluck him from the air, like a plane taunting godzilla in a cheesy black and white movie.
Lucifer pauses, taking in the chaos below. “Oooohkay, not just Rudolph then, huh? Char Char, honey, what happened?”
His daughter was hovering nearby in Vaggi’s arms, her cheeks stained with tears. She struggled to get enough air to speak between sobs. “I-I-I just… just wanted to h-h-h-he…help them!” she wailed, and his heart broke for her.
She really was the best part of him. Just… a bit naive, like he had been in the Garden. And that was his greatest fear, honestly.
“The wards are working, but I don’t think Ch-... I don’t think WE anticipated the level of dependency of the sinners, Sir.” Vaggi replied, eye wide in horror. Once more sharing the blame for Charlie, because she loved her.
“You just asked me to magic the alcohol out of the place, right? This… was always going to be bad but… not like this.” Lucifer frowned, sending golden light to pin down Alastor’s wrists to the floor, forestalling a potential mauling before it came. “Settle down, Bellhop, I’m trying to fix this.”
He glances at the sudden look of avoidant guilt on Charlie’s face. That sent a sinking feeling right to his toes. “Char Char, can you tell me what happened?”
“I…” she hiccupped, “I might have… banned a few other things. Like all the drugs hidden in the hotel, and Niffty from cleaning, and the cannibals from eating sinner meat…”
Oh. Oh that explained so much.
He turned back to the Bellhop and no longer saw a really weirdly annoying rival for Charlotte’s attention, but instead a fleshstarved cannibal type creature in full Hunt Fervour, beyond cognition or restraint. And now as he glanced down upon their crazed subjects, he saw that Bambi wasn’t the only one ready to Feast.
“Honey, didn’t I ever tell you about Sinner forms?” he started, gently, only to cut off in surprise as a key bounced off his head. It barely stung, but another plucked string caught his attention sharply.
One of the cannibettes had another sinner’s corpse in their mouth, tearing it to shreds in desperation to feast on the flesh, the organs, the marrow from cracked bones until the Hunger abated. And that one little act seemed to bring about a storm of ‘check outs’, each snapping the constraints holding them back from their current desires.
Charlotte must have been too specific in her warding requests when his mind had been absent from his body. To tie their conformity to employment or guest status was… admittedly an easy out for this situation, but overall dangerously sloppy when it came to contractual type bindings. He really needed to talk to her about that in future. No daughter of his would be bamboozled and enslaved by some smirking Overlord in future through wordplay…
The carnage below was getting gratuitous, little fountains of arterial spray rising like an impromptu fountain display, as the room was painted in shades of gore and gurgling horror. It was nothing unusual for Hell, on any street one chose to walk at any time of day… and yet, the horror was simply that it was happening inside the place Char Char had tried to make safe from exactly this. Although she had wrought such chaos with her own overeager hands.
Now was not the time for blame.
And he’d never been good at it anyway… after all, last time he’d messed up his Father had hurled him into a pit of fire and misery for eternity… so usually, Lilith handled things like time-out while Lucifer had a small existential crisis over not being like his own cosmic parent.
Charlie whimpered. “I thought I could help them move through these cravings and become better… and now look at them!”
Lucifer, more aware of the circumstances now, felt the mantle of the King land on his shoulders. He would handle this… and then, he would have a talk with his daughter about the true nature of sinner forms, how this had come to pass. More importantly, how Hell was a perpetual punishment with no easy outs, and altruism could kill if applied with reckless abandon.
“Okay, so this is a mess, but nothing that can’t be fixed. Ma-... Vaggi, can you please cover Charlotte’s eyes for a minute, this is about to get much, much worse.” The ex-orcist complied immediately, burrowing the blonde’s face into her shoulder and muttering soothing things to muffle some of the horror about to occur.
With tired eyes, the King beheld the mess below, most of the sinners deceased or feasting, and snapped his fingers to remove the last threads of restraint from the assembled. The dead become the very sustenance required to slake the bloodlust of the cannibals, solving the immediate threat from them. He even tossed a dead zebra-fish looking sinner at the Bellhop, and tried very hard to meditate on the frequency of the universe over the top of the delighted humming and crunching that came from that never-to-be-mentioned blot of altruism.
The rest was simply a matter of returning what was, and tweaking the regenerative abilities of the deceased to ensure that they returned to vitality on hotel grounds where possible. With an indolent wave Lucifer reset the bar, relocating the juice counter a few feet to the right and expanding the room a few additional feet to compensate. Physics was… a really weird trick humans decided to play on themselves, deciding everything had set shape and mass and dimensions. One day they might even get the joke.
For now, he could feel grim amusement about the whole thing.
He re-seeded little stashes of various narcotics in the hidden spaces and crawlholes of the place, they would be found by their desperate seekers in the near future. Had they never noticed how such things would regenerate, or were the withdrawals too sharp by then for thought?
He could not bring harm to sinners, and Lucifer, though rarely as focused on the sinners outside of when Charlie needed him to be, understood that some harms were imperative. To keep the sinners Char Char was supporting alive, he’d had to keep certain things from her sight… and it was now, with only the limited two eyes he had out at present, that the King truly understood how little his daughter comprehended of Hell. Of sinners and punishment. Of the true meaning of helping in what appeared to be counterproductive ways.
He would have to make arrangements with the street cleaning guild for some corpses to be dropped to the kitchens regularly, this sort of chaos couldn’t happen again. It was messy, for one, and it was really upsetting his daughter. That was, kinda his fault, though.
So he’s only blaming the bellhop maaaaaaaaaybe 53% for this…
“Come on, I think we need to have a talk, Char Char…” he soothes, opening his arms for his daughter, and she launches herself across the open air at him without hesitation. She’s apologising in a messy puddle of words and sobs that seemed impossible to be happening from just the one face. He pats her on the back, feeling a little anxious about the fact that this conversation is likely to cause further distress.
“Why yes, I do think this whole charade has gone on long enough, hmmm?” said a voice that nearly startled the King right out of the air and left him fumbling to keep grip on Charlotte.
He whirls about to find a regular sized bellhop raised to their height by shadowed tendrils, delicately dabbing at the gore about his smile with a kerchief.
Before he can muster a scathing reply, the dining room doors burst open.
A fully weaponised Niffty explodes into the room in a cleaning frenzy, hear squeal of delight near super sonic, and a very well armed Cherri Bomb storms in close behind, lobbing explosives at anyone who even looks funny at the red blur.
“Perhaps we should adjourn to the bar, hmmm? I suspect that’s where Husker is now he’s alive once more.” The red bastard suggests.
“Yes. Please. Need alcohol now.” Vaggi deadpans as four sets of eyeballs fly past her face.
After quite a brace of hysterics, things did level out enough thanks to the miraculous power of alcohol, to allow Charlotte to at least stop hysterically sobbing herself to near nausea.
“Yes, yes, enough of this self-pity now don’t you think, Princess?” Alastor intoned, finding his temper slightly more frayed by the continued theatrics after just getting his own sense back and functional. Husker, for his part, was keeping her glass filled, and his own bottle to hand. Like the cat feared it would dissipate into golden light once more.
“Hey, back off her!” Vaggi snapped sharply.
“Hmmm, no… no I don’t think I will. All of this absolute disaster was quite literally on her head and I think if the crown fits, she should at least admire the results. Wouldn’t you say, Vaggalina-Dawn Yachtowner the 47th?”
He dodges a bar olive flicked at his head by the King of Hell. “You made your point, Bambi, just take it down a notch. She didn’t know.”
“HAH!” it explodes before he can catch it in his teeth. “When has that EVER been a good enough excuse for anyone in all of history? How many children have inadvertently shot people by fumbling with guns, despite being told not to touch them? How many well-meaning fools have devastated other cultures with their superior attitude and firm self-righteousness?”
Lucifer actually winces. “You know, I absolutely hate to admit you’re right on that one… you humans just manage to fuck everything up. We gave everyone unique features and you went to war over it… insanity.”
“Pot. Kettle. Apple dispenser.”
Okay, that was a rather low blow, but really, the all powerful thing was exceptionally short he’d get a crick in his neck if he tried to aim higher.
Lucifer visibly took a deep breath and remained calm. No one else needed to know he’d counted all the quarks in the room at obscene speed to keep himself from immolating the refurbished bar area. “You know what? Fair. That’s actually a really good place for me to start with Char Char about this whole…incident.”
Charlie had settled into a mopey silence, clearly exhausted from her upset but trying to remain attentive. To find out where she’d gone so wrong.
“Char Char, something your mother and I never really got a chance to fully explain to you was the punishment system here in Hell and the way it’s designed to maintain peak levels of suffering no matter how hard the denizens try. Your cat friend here, Hunk…”
“Husk, majesty.” Husker said around the bottle mouth. His wings fluffing out in a display of relaxation and comfort once more.
“...-Husk, of course. He drank in life, gambled I assume based on the wings. The Royal family can use our abilities to Really Look at a sinner to see what their crimes were, it’s written in their forms, and in their core. But, just on the surface, there’s also a lot of information.” Lucifer said, he was fiddling with a napkin and folding it into a too realistic duck shape that honestly shouldn’t be possible.
“Hell sees that and cranks the Need to Gamble past the maximum, but that’s something that can actively be resisted with work if it’s one of the dual-curses. If gambling was his only vice, not making a bet on the daily could send you into a twitching mess. The whole system is designed to get you on the ground and keep kicking, Char Char.” Lucifer huffed a hollow laugh. He’d hated the whole thing the more he read of it, chained down here for so long. “What can actually kill a sinner like Husk is taking away his alcohol.”
“Did, actually. Thanks for that.”
“Why yes, and I don’t take kindly to my employees being murdered… so we shall have to have recompense for that, Charlotte.” Alastor added, grip on his cane tight and eyes spiralling into radio dials. He felt delight spark through his blackened heart as her eyes welled anew with tears.
“M-...murdered?” she whimpered, tugging so sharply at her blond strands that Vaggi had to restrain her hands before any came free. “No-... I didn’t-...”
“Yes, you did. In fact, every dead sinner in this hotel is on your hands, your heart, and that funny little thing you call a conscience…” Alastor sing-songed at her. “Oh don’t look so sad, it was bound to happen eventually… why, the amount of times you’ve gotten Angel beaten to death or as close as the moth decided to get…”
He left that to trail into the tension in the room.
“No… no I-...”
“He’s an asshole… but it’s the truth.” Husker grumbled, tossing a bottle aside and going for something top shelf, something to burn away his melancholy from the truth, the death, and the mention of his beloved little spider. Alastor would not stop the man, this time. Regenerating took quite a toll.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, duckling. There’s more here going on than you ever realised. These people don’t just have a ‘dependency’ as you might find in the texts I know you got from Earth libraries, it’s integrated in their forms, it would be like turning off the air. Some might survive a little while, but each death means returning once again to suffocate until the air returned.”
“Oh…” It was a small, defeated sound.
“Some need alcohol to keep thriving, some have to gamble. Some need drugs. Some need sex. Some need violence and whatever the cactus and lizard overlord guys have going on. And others, like the cannibals… they get a special curse, if they go without at least a glass of blood or a finger or something equally squishy and disgusting from inside someone… they will either Starve to death or go into a hunting frenzy. A single cannibette in a full frock coat, mid-frenzy can wipe out an entire overlord district, honey. It’s why the Town exists, why there are rules and etiquette.”
“But don’t you forget what they are, Charlotte. Every cannibal and bette is Always HUNGRY, satiating the ravenous desire to rend you to bits of jerky with civility and Rosie’s iron-clad rules. To take everything they can hold themselves together with… why, I thought they just might end you and your pretty little angel, today. There is no reasoning with a starving fleshfeaster. Ho-ho-no!” Alastor chortled, delighted. “Why, had you persisted, I might have tried to eat you myself and been none the wiser!”
Husk snorted, hiding it in a paw. It wasn’t funny… well, not to Charlotte. But from the point of view of sinners who had resided in the Pit this long, it was a little hilarious how her hubris had nearly had the Princess become an appetiser.
Lucifer looked grave. “I would have had the Goetia rend you into a thousand pieces to free her…” he snarled, horns displacing his hat and igniting. “Don’t you ever-...”
“Dad… it wouldn’t have been his fault, if what you just told me is true. I jumped into this too fast… and… and what I did to Niffty, and to you!” She lets out a gasp of horror, covering her mouth. “I just… I thought if you could feel settled, you wouldn’t be so sad all the time, and I assumed Niffty had a complex about cleaning and…”
“Sometimes, doing nothing is a far more useful strategy.” Alastor said, sliding atop a barstool and resting his microphone across his knees. “My dear, do you think I would have survived this long if I simply ran around challenging overlords more powerful than I without a plan? Hmmm? No. I watched them, learned their patterns, what their weaknesses were and made a plan. Oh it was always a fair fight, I’ve never enjoyed punching down… however, when you see the totality of a sinner, you have the advantage.”
He accepted a drink from Husker and swirled the glass.
“I do not believe in your little redemption nonsense, my dear, nor the psychotherapy handholding you persist with… but I would suggest that it may be more effective if you take your time to stalk your prey and learn their habits, their needs, their strengths and their vulnerabilities before pouncing. To become overenthusiastic leads to…” He gestured in the direction of the easting hall where the bone cracking and explosions were finally settling down.
“...hunh,” Charlie exhaled, appearing pensive. She looked at her father. “I fucked up Dad, and I hurt a lot of people today. But I will do better… and, I’d like you to help me in this. You know so much about sinners and the rules, I… I need you.”
Alastor preemptively shielded his eyes because the ex-seraphim exploded into a brilliant golden light that felt like being too close to a campfire everywhere it touched. Why, his trousers were starting to smoulder! Uncouth behaviour and unbecoming of a monarch, wouldn’t you say?
Lucifer seemed to be having some sort of existential… whatever the opposite of crisis was. He appeared joyful and animated, as if those were the words to unlock the little thing from his self-serving melancholy.
“Within reason.” Alastor broke the moment, causing a geneal dimming in the room.
“You dare to try and limit me, Sinner?”
Alastor rolled his eyes. He loved theatrics but there’d been far too much today.
The glass clinked atop the bar as he turned to face them. “Within limits. This whole mess might have been preempted had you not blindly followed Charlotte’s requests, first to remove the bar and other items, and second to allow some unknown medication to cloud your mind. Clearly, there needs to be more than simply the two of you making spur of the moment decisions… I would like to trust Vangelina Undertow Bon Vivaunt here, but she is bewitched by your daughter.”
“Oh?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “And I suppose that would be you then?”
“If I have the time, perhaps… but even running it past dear Husker here, or even the scintillating Miss bomb will give you a sinner’s perspecitve and information you may not otherwise consider. Why remove the patients from any awareness of the treatment unless you intend harm, after all?” Alastor prodded, satisfaction pooling as Charlotte flinched.
Excellent. A lesson taken to heart, then.
The privileged usually needed to be scrabbling for their lives in the mud and blood of the bayou before they had this sort of breakthrough. In fact, he was almost proud at how easily two powerful beings could be corralled to common sense… albeit with a cannibal overlord twist, with words alone.
Light seemed to be dawning dangerously bright in Charlotte’s overtired eyes. “You’re Right! Oh, that’s such a good idea! How can I leave the sinners I’m helping out of their own treatment! Ooooh, thats the number one mistake they warned us against at Hell U… aunty Bell’s gonna be soooo mad if she finds out…”
The Princess perked up again. “But every mistake is a chance to do better!”
“You might wanna get her to lay down before she crashes…” Husker suggests to Vaggi, who is already tossing the overly animated antichrist over her shoulder. “Maybe put a bottle of water on the nightstand… don’t think most’d survive losing that must in tears.”
“I got her. Night everyone. Don’t cause anymore chaos while we’re asleep, I still have my spear.” Vaggi warned, sternly glaring across the room before taking off up the stairs in a gust of feathery susurration
Lucifer immediately rounded on the Overlord and pointed a finger. “And you, bambi! Don’t you every try to eat me again, or I will atomise you and send your still screaming remains to the kinkiest part of LUST!”
Alastor affected a mock look of shock, hand resting over his chest like a scandalised grand dowager as he grinned back. “Why, of course I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Lowness… after all, it would greatly upset our daughter…”
Only his laughter remained as the King hurled his glass towards the retreating shadow.
Husker poured the monarch another one without a word.
Things were going to get more complicated around here the moment Charlotte woke up re-energised.
Cherri slung herself down at the bar and cracked her spine audibly. The scent of charred clothing and gunpowder radiated from the rising overlord.
Husk slid one of those weird beer cans over to her, trying not to wince as she chugged it down like liquid was going outta fashion. Never could stand that taste of that aussie swill... apparently the hell version wasn't all that different to the stuff they had up top.
He's damn glad he never set foot down under, before he got 6ft down under, then.
They watched a mildly stumbling ex-seraphim make his way towards the main staircase. Humming in several voices at once. It was hauntingly beautiful.
"So that's it then? Princess fancy bitch gets away with killing like, everyone with, ehat? Slap on the wrist? Time out? Reckoned Redguy would have kicked her arse over it..." Cherri broke the silence, frowning. Didn't feel right that the royal cunt got a pass after all the shit they'd had to handle on her behalf in the last little bit.
Husk wore his own confused disappointment on his scowling face. He poured himself another glass, something to stop the tremors in his wings after a withdrawal regeneration.
"Yeah, actually I've never seen Al leave off a chance to teach someone a violent lesson..."
"Oh, and who said I was finished with Chatloyye, hmmm?" Said a too happy tone a mere inch from his ear, sending the bartender into fuzzy startled cat mode. The shadows coalesced into Alastor, grin first.
"Why, my dear Husker... when have you ever known me to pass up the chance for a spot of well earned revenge?" He laughed and there was no humour in that tone. It was all constrained fury under rigid social politeness
Cherri, definitely not attracted to this kind of insanity and not jonesing for a fight, leaned forwards. "Yeah? What're you gonna do...?"
The radio dials snapped sharply into place as the shadows enveloped the room and his grin gleamed golden in the sudden void.
"Why, my dearest little compatriots..."
Husk felt his fur stand on end at the inclusionary statement.
"...I do believe we are going to make the royal fool suffer far beyond her own self pity would allow, for daring to impose her will upon subjects whose existence is beneath her until the very moment we Redeem. As ludicrous as that had been until recently."
"...how, boss?" Husk couldn't help the edge of malevolent delight in his tone. He'd fucking died for Charlotte's latest experiment without any say in it, and fot what? So she could cry about her hurt feelings?
His tail twitched in his fury.
The grin nearly bisected the overlord's face now. "Simple, my murderous magician... we all know her one weakness. Her true desire with all this chicanery. And I just so happen to have the ear of that person... who would be most digusted to learn what darling Chatlotte has been up to in their abscence..."
Cherri's mouth fell open, thrn snapped into an equally sharp grin of satisfacyion. "You don't mean...?"
"Oh, but I DO." Alastor sang back, and brought his staff to his lips theatrically. A red claw tapped it several times before he said, "Lillith, darling, it's Alastor... I have some rather unfortunate tidings about what your darling daughter has been up to in your abscence..."
There was a lengthy pause, in which Husk and Cherri waited with baited breath.
And then a melodic tone filled with royal command responded. "Alastor? Tell me EVERYTHING."
Charlotte, in her infinite wisdom as head counsellor, the ink on her hell Uni certificate still drying as she tacked the frame on the wall, decided to make some changes.
Why should the staff be allowed priviledges that the sinner guests they had, couldn't participate in? Or more likely, SHOULDN'T for the sake of their redemption journey. After all, temptation got them down here, so if they removed it that should help them to become winners in no time!
Vaggi had tried to caution her that this could cause some low morale among the guests, but... well, she was willing to try for Charlie. After all, Vaggi had been the one who was against the bar in the first place, when Alastor installed it... they'd both been surprised when Lucifer added in the area to the new hotel. Though the ex-orcist secretly assumed it was more to do with showing up the red guy and proving he loved his daughter, than anything else.
Overnight, the hotel became a testing ground for Charlie's new theories on Helping Sinners become Winners! And Becoming Worthy!
Something about the wording really grated on Vaggi's nerves, and she had a sinking feeling she wouldn't be alone in it.
Husk stumbled over to the barren area where once his station stood the next morning in bleary eyed confusion. "The fuck is this?" he managed, trying not to wince at the blindingly colourful display.
Charlie was vibrating out of her skin in excitement. "A juice bar! Oooooh isn't it amazing? Dad helped me change it over last night, so now sinners on the path of righteousness can't be tempted anymore!"
Whatever her blinding grin was hoping to get from the grizzled former overlord, it wasn't a look of horrified disdain that slowly soured into something approaching restrained rage. "Look, Princess..."
He was clearly casting about for something... less than what his heart wanted to share. "I get you think this is a good idea but you need to hear me when I say this's fucked up."
She began to deflate in confusion, then bucked up with self-assurance. "Look, I know it's going to be hard, but I spoke to Vaggi and you can have the whole day off to deal with any hangovers from not getting the 'hair of the hellhound', and then we'll show you how to work the juicer and blenders tomorrow... oooh, you'll love the pineangonut smoothies! I had the fruit brought up from Gluttony just because my guests deserve the best!"
His expression darkened. "Charlie, this is going to kill people."
She can't help but snort. "Okay, that's a liiiiittle dramatic, isn't it? I know withdrawal can't be fun... but everyone will make it through. And then we can have a smoothie party as part of the talking circle tomorrow! Oooh, maybe with some of the other snacks Aunty Beez sent!"
There was no reaching her now.
Husk felt his insides begin to roil and clench. A hangover was the least of his problems if he couldn't get some form of booze around here... maybe Al could help. Fuck, he hated asking the guy anything but... the not-deer bastard also happened to be weirdly loyal to his employees as long as he could laugh at their predicaments. Al would magic up a bottle for him. At least the guy understood the limitations of sinner forms...
Til he ran into the guy, Husk'd just have to hope what was still in his system was enough... or he'd have to break into the first aid kit for some of the rubbing alcohol. And he knew from experience that shit was downright vile.
His limbs were starting to shake.
Damn. Thought he had more time.
"Princess, you are gonna pay for this if I have to regenerate cause'a some nonsense idea you got in your head..." he grumbled to no one, trying to remain upright through sheer force of rage at her persistent stupidity. She just needed to listen for once, hear what sinners had to say instead of bulldozing over 'em without any idea.
She was like a new doctor who never let the patient finish describing their symptoms, already talking over them and assuming she knew best. Handing over pills without checking for allergies or if her assumptions were right.
Pain began to radiate from his stomach outward. Not hunger, not quite... but when your body was literally formed to consume alcohol, then being without for even a bit was a wild ride. Hadn't had a shortage since '87... so this would be rough.
his wings dragged on the ground as he made his way painfully towards the elevators, the stairs seeming too cruel a mountain to climb this morning, and startled as the firm throwing arm of Cherri Bomb took some of his weight.
"I saw. Silly cunt's gone and rushed into things again, and we'll suffer for it... but I probably got something hidden somewhere to tide you over, right mate?" She spoke in his direction, getting them in the elevator and moving. She looked tired. "Think she had Vags go through my room, missing all my emergency kits... and my explosives. Doesn't she realise I'm the thing that's gonna detonate if she doesn't give my shit back?"
Husk chuckled. "Don't think she's worked that out yet. But I'm going to enjoy seeing this backfire..."
Already, confused voices were rising in the floor below them as the sinners sneaking down for an early morning drink were finding no husk and no bar to tend. He could almost taste the fury swelling from below.
Infantalising. That's what it was. the Princess treating them like godsdamned kiddies who needed her to smile and talk sweetly at them as she put things up on the high shelves so no one could hurt themselves.
Well, sometimes the kids bite back. He sure as hell was planning to... once the world stopped wavering violently...
Charlie was starting to get some not so helpful comments in the suggestion box. Mostly about what she could cram into Her Box for removing the bar…
Well, sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind. That’s all.
They’d understand after everyone got a few days sobriety and clarity under their metaphorical belts. Perhaps she should offer light meditation this afternoon to help the guests centre themselves?
Vaggi had already had to manage a medical emergency from one of the guests. Found some plant looking sinner wilting away and begging for alcohol in the lounge area, shuddering as if this was something more dire than merely a bad hangover. Charlie had offered some generic painkillers, nothing addictive in the hotel of course, and tried to provide a soothing presence.
She’d been a little hurt when Vaggi asked her to go and check on the suggestion box, because she thought her actions were helping, but the expression her girlfriend was trying to hide said that perhaps Charlie’s attempts to get a healing mantra going were not being well received. Maybe she needed a more soothing chant option?
Sinners were just so used to having their vices on a daily basis, surely it would just be a matter of waiting out any withdrawal symptoms to get them through to a happier, healthier them! After all, how could they get to heaven if they still drank, smoked, shot up, snorted and engaged in obscene violence?
Speaking of which… she’d noticed that Niffty had been a little more bloodthirsty lately, given the reduction in bugs to hunt. Though her cleaning remained immaculate, as always. It chafed at Charlie that she really had put a lot on the redhead’s shoulders, this was a massive establishment after all, and Niffty had to be tired. Between her constant cleaning, patrolling the vents, killing vermin and ferreting the stashes out of guest rooms.
Something at the back of her brain itched. The compulsion to clean had always seemed… a little unhealthy, especially when the sinner started to delight in the filth, the difficulty of stain removal, and recent refusal to remove stains she then went on to name. It felt… like there might be a clinical name for that.
In fact… Charlie found herself drifting back to one of the textbooks from HellU’s psychology course, and started to flip through the index with fevered excitement. Her fingers trailed over the disorders, and she squealed a little as the potential diagnosis came up… Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, of course!
Technically she should run some diagnostic testing with Niffty, but… well, the little maid was hardly the cooperative type, and her mania was so Obvious to anyone with eyes. Charlie cracked the book open at the right pages and read through the information within, covering basics, treatment options and medications. She wasn’t technically able to prescribe medications, not being a psychiatrist, but this was hell and she was the princess… what pharmacy in Sloth would deny a request for a few pharmaceuticals?
It worked with Angel, after all.
Her mouth fell into a moue of displeasure, frustrated that he’d decided to go back to Valentino after all the progress he’d made at the hotel. It had really upset her. Falling back into old habits when he was the closest to redemption, when he could finally BE someone important… someone worthy of praise.
Still, no time to dwell on that. Charlie shook her head to dislodge the negative thoughts, and put on her best therapeutic smile. Time to go and help another sinner!
Alastor’s jubilant mood from getting one over on Vox had lasted for a full week before the ridiculousness of the new hotel began to grate on his nerves. Sinners were underfoot in all the directions one could imagine, including the ceiling, and more than a few were ignorant of his abilities… or had fallen for the false surrender to the Vees.
One even dared to try and challenge him, offering a chair to fornicate with. Though for the afterlife of him, Alastor still couldn’t figure out how that would even be possible… though the degenerates in the Moth’s studio likely could have four videos out by close of business if motivated properly by their contract holder.
Charlotte had had the sheer audacity to express upset at his response to the overly arrogant little fool, and asked him not to ‘resort to violence’ next time… as if she had no concept of who she had been addressing! And after all he had suffered to ensure her little pals came out unscathed in the grand conflict, she owed him at least a half dozen edible sinners of his choosing from among the guests.
She’d blanched at the suggestion. Ah well.
And then she’d said something wildly uncouth… the little airheaded creature had dared to tell him, no… to Decree in her little uppity tone that she was Banning the consumption and storage of sinner meat in the hotel. Did she have any idea how ridiculous that was?
She’d also tried to hedge a clause for non-violence, and Charlotte was quite lucky he didn’t bite off her head in a literal fashion for such nonsense.
Well, he’d admonished her her silly fancies, and questioned what exactly their cannibal and bette guests should eat then?
Only sheer force of will kept his jaw from hitting the floor when she’d used the word ‘tofu’ and ‘meat substitutes’ at least a half dozen times in her overly excited, shiny-eyed ramblings of an explanation. He’d been completely unable to hold back a laugh.
“Princess, do you think that if the cannibals could eat other things, they would? It is a Need. Just as Oxygen is to living things. Do you understand that etiquette and Rosie’s rules are the only things restaining them from simply hunting every sinner in hell?”
The little creature had dared to roll her eyes at him!
“Oh Al, look… I know they Think they need it, but it’s like any addiction, everyone Thinks they Need it. If we can just offer an alternative and get through any withdrawal pangs, then they’ll see it’ll be worth it! No one’s getting to Heaven if they consume the flesh of other people, right?”
Alastor’s teeth ground against one another, blood trickling down the corner of his mouth. He could see this was another of those times when she had fearlessly decided that everyone should follow her as she charged off into the dangerous unknown, despite the warning of those more aware and prepared than herself. Everyone would suffer for such foolishness.
He’d already noted the nonsense with the bar, and sent a poppet toddling off with booze for Husker. Charlotte didn’t understand what happened when he ‘dried out’... more mummification than sobriety. She didn’t understand, or seemingly want to understand, the world sinners existed in; what they lived through and experienced on a daily basis just to exist.
The run in with the idiot sinner / lunchtime prey had occurred when he’d come to investigate why Charlotte had confiscated the item from her poppet and poured it down the sink. What fresh malarky was she up to now?
It had been worse than anticipated.
Fine. He shall play nice, and simply have items smuggled into the hotel for himself and the cannibals and bettes present. It would not do to starve a cannibal.
“You will come to regret this decision, quite soon, I suspect.” He tried one last time, and felt frustration rise as her naive facade failed to crack. She waved him off.
“IT’s not going to be that bad, I promise.” Charlotte pauses, calculation in her eyes. “And I’ve asked Dad to ward the hotel against sinner flesh being brought in, or consumed… and you know you’re not allowed to hunt the guests. Don’t test me, Al, this is going to be good for everyone… just think, you can have regular food again!”
He eyed her with a weary wariness born of dealing with someone who had no idea what they were trying to achieve, once again stepping boldly onto the path of adventure without a plan.
“Charlotte… reconsider.” Alastor intoned, and fell into shadows.
She stood there blinking for a moment, then shrugged. He was a melodramatic overlord… what could possibly go wrong if they stopped letting cannibalism run rampant around the place? Maybe other sinners would even feel safer to come stay if they knew the cannibals could be… well, not Trained to eat real food, but… weaned off Sinner meat?
She hummed to herself, heading towards the top floor where her father was probably getting into some sort of mess. She really needed to talk to him about his anxiety and post traumatic stress disorder… the books had given her a whole new list of possibilities for treatments! But first… she needed him to stop overcompensating with the Ducks.
Alastor arrived in Husker’s room to find a surprise guest, Miss Bomb, trying to manage the writhing mass of fur on the bed. Husker swore and twisted, wings spasming irregularly as his body fought the oncoming regeneration without any way to forestall it.
He conjured another bottle, snarling as golden light whisked it away.
“Charlotte has gone far too far this time.”
“Too bloody right, Red. Look at this fella, he’s about to cark it if we can’t get him some grog.”
“Yes, but I’m afraid we can’t get it Here. Her weak willed father has warded the place against substances or other things she believes are vices…” Alastor’s stomach clenched sharply, a poignant reminder of the hunger always burning below the surface. It always rose alongside his fury, his bloodlust and his frustration; which was why a well fed fleshfeaster was the best option for all about the place.
Cherri clearly twigged to his statement, and quirked her eyebrow. “Oh, and what’s she got on you, spooky? No more jumpscares?”
He mused on the idea of dodging the question, but perhaps having someone able to lob a bomb at him if… certain instincts took over, wasn’t the worst idea. “Why, she’s banned the consumption, storage or procurement of sinner meat in the hotel and grounds! Our dear princess is convinced that tofu and meat substitutes shall suffice!”
The expression crossing the bold aussie’s face was nearly comical in how horrified it was. “Is she fucked in the head? Doesn’t she know you guys go feral when you get the munchies?”
“Hmmm, I did try to inform her, and yet…” He shrugged and twirled his staff. “Now, I believe we need to go out on the town as it were to enable Husker to take in his required level of alcohol to avoid the muss and fuss of regeneration.”
“Won’t work.” Cherri scowled. “Got a mate in room 453, she and her group went straight for the city when they heard no booze, but anytime they tried to grab a drink it’d disappear into golden light. We’ve been chipped or something… fuck me, this is bullshit!”
“Indeed. What about the first aid kits? I understand husker has-...”
“Emptied. Thinkings Vags did that. She thinks ahead. Just wish she’d think for herself for once and get her head outta Charlie’s box!”
Not exactly how he’d phrase it but… accurate.
Alastor was about to impart a quip of his own when hysterical sobbing wailed through the grate to their immediate left, and a distraught Niffty struggled out. Her motions were sluggish and uncertain, but her distress was real.
He picked her up in a black tendril and brought her to eyelevel. “My dear Niffty, what has you so out of sorts?” What has the blonde idiot done now? He only just managed to bite off the end of the sentence. He could deal with nonsense placed upon himself, but Husker and Niffty were his alone to toy with… and he disliked what was his being messed with by outside forces.
“Ch-Ch-Ch-...” She struggled with the words through gasping breaths. “Charlie said I-I-I-...”
Whatever came next was hypersonic and made his ears buzz unpleasantly, before she fell into wails again. As if her tiny evil heart was broken in twain.
“What has she said, Niffty?” he coaxed.
“C-Can’t clean! Hav-have to… take these…” Her little palm opened to a bottle of some sort of medication that he knew without reading the label was some sort of cognition suppressant. The rage was rising alongside his hunger, and the longing to rip just one of the Princess’s arms off to smack her with it before devouring the flesh, sounded so tempting right now.
“No you most certainly do not!” he snarled, snatching the medicants and tossing them away. “Charlotte does not have the qualifications to prescribe medications, she barely passed her counselling degree on her father’s coattails…” He’d checked into it extensively when she’d started forcing Angel Dust to take cocktails of pills, which seemed wrong even to a hell-loving overlord like himself.
How very like Valentino she was, in her own way. Convinced she was right, using her power to exert control over others, punishing those that disagreed, and now forcing substances on people without their consent. He tasted bile and blood on his tongue.
“Too loud in my head, Sir… can’t clean… need to clean!” Niffty sobbed harder, and Cherri took her into her arms with the care of an explosives expert.
“Alright, alright. We’ll make a mess for you here, huh?” she offered.
The lips trembled. “It goes away in bright light…” Niffty whimpered.
Right. Alastor snarled, feeling himself expand.
He was going to go eat the Princess.
“Stop it…” Husker croaked out. “Rampage like this… no coming back…”
Damn it all, the cat was right.
“Then how do you propose we overthrown this tyrannical nonsense thrust upon us?” Alastor questions the barely alive feline.
Husk’s weary eyes met his own. “Simple… we don’t.”
The despondent duck-loving monarch didn’t seem mentally present at the dinner table Charlotte had forced them all to set themselves down at this evening. A ludicrously long display of generic fare on a too-long table in what Alastor assumed would possibly pass as a ballroom in future.
Much like the physics-defying dimensions of his own room, it was far more spacious within than without, and accommodated all the guests. Far fewer than had started their day at the rancid little redemption project, he noted with a level of satisfaction.
Lucifer didn’t even flinch as the Overlord’s claws cracked the wooden back of the chair as he fought to control his rising instincts, the rage pulsing so invitingly below the surface. He could taste the different sinners’ scents on the air already… and he was not even as afflicted as the others who partook in sinner flesh. Well, in the culinary sense at least.
His predator’s gaze lingered instinctually upon the few cannibals and bettes about the dinner table, who appeared a heartbeat away from losing composure altogether. The way their dark welled eyes tracked the movements of those around them, a sharp claw piercing through the tablecloth as their stomachs clenched with hunger, a surreptitious wipe of drool from their lips with a napkins so carefully choreographed to avoid detection, and how their breathing began to mirror that of unconsciously selected prey.
The cannibals and bettes could normally stave this off far longer when in the company of other members of the town, as they were rarely classified as food unless some egregious crime had occurred and Rosie sanctioned a Restorative Justice Hunt. Or they had access to other substances to ease the ache, like alcohol, drugs, even violent brawls to release the instincts in a safer way.
Here they were caged predators surrounded by succulent morsels just waiting to be devoured, and the awareness of just how many bodies were about them was starting to erode the politeness from the beasts within; turning their perception from Other People to Prey.
It would not be long.
Alastor sat with greater force than necessary, the clunky movement serving as distraction and a means to express his own personal disgust with the princess’s ridiculousness. Cherri was helping Niffty to expel the odd medicaments, and making a most unappealing mess in the process to the delight of the ashen, clammy maid sinner.
Husker was, most unfortunately, deceased at the moment.
Much like others in the hotel who had not yet arrived, including that odd Willow creature from Room 32, he had slipped into a comatose state and deteriorated rapidly in the span of just a few hours. Alastor found himself hoping that the winged cat would simply remain deceased for as long as possible, for the moment he regenerated to health, it would all begin again.
The others? He might pause in the corners of their rooms to see if any offered interesting insights or wails in their delirium that he might incorporate into the next show. He cared not for anything or anyone who was not his, or under his purview.
Others at the table were shaking, pallid, eyes darting furtively about the room and startling at nothing.Desperate for a soothing substance that would not be supplied. And yet more seemed to be barely containing themselves from marinating the unappealing whatever-this-was on the plates, bodies weaving back and forth in sluggish nausea as if all their energy was to remain upright.
Ah, this was going to be far more explosive than anticipated. So many weaklings triggering his own desperate need to Hunt, to Rend and Tear and FEAST… he could barely stand it!
Something with scales and four eyes faceplanted into their meal down the table, clearly deceased, and the nearest cannibette launched herself across the expanse to bite at their throat. The thrill of the spectacle raised his heartbeat, smile growing violently wide in delight at the anticipated gore… only for blasted Vagathina May Delphine the Eighth to force Matilda back at with that damned spear of hers. Charlotte standing halfway between the deceased and her previous spot by her father, looking between the two desperately.
The King hadn’t reacted, Alastor noted. He seemed oddly flat… more than his usual malaise, one might surmise, and it didn’t take his heightened instincts but a second to sift through his oddly nauseating apple scent to identify more of the medicaments wafting from the man. He was both thrilled and startled at this revelation. Had Charlotte thought to usurp the king by drugging him? He felt pride surge for but a moment, as the more banal reality crashed down.
It was far more likely the tepid little mouse had sought to regulate the royal fool’s mania in some way. He had idly compared Niffty’s desire to clean to keep her mind ‘all tidy’ with the same way the little monarch would frantically make ducks and jump to meet any of his darling daughter’s demands. It was no great leap to see Charlotte had decided to medicate away the alleged problems without a single thought about the impact…
More astonishing was that the medication appeared to have an affect on a being that, allegedly, was formed before time even existed. Had Hell weakened the little thing so?
Alstor had to push down the urge to Kill, to Conquer, that his hunger sought; a weak foe was a dead one, a nourishing meal. He tilted his head, musing. No, perhaps it was something else… perhaps the king had simply allowed the pills to take effect because that was what Charlotte wanted. That was more aligned with the nature of his powers after all.
It must be noted that the wards were still infuriatingly effective even with the king so vegetative, which was grating to the Overlord, as he was still seeking some way around them or through them. To no avail.
“Dad!” Charlotte cried out, startling the King to animation, and Lucifer jerked upright like a marionette about to perform. He flicked a hand and restrained the cannibette, idly, without a single thought for the process.
Ah yes, the little princess always defaulting to daddy’s power when times grew tough. The sort of thing he loathed in a person… the sort of thing he had made sure to deal with in life, and the afterlife once he saw too many terrible overlords mismanaging the place. Their screams echoed on his personal frequencies, occasionally leaked to air if he was being generous… or needed to remind people of their place.
The internal music was all that was holding him into this regular shape and mindset, currently. As additional sinners toppled from chairs to spasm, create a mess on the carpet, or otherwise decease themselves from a lack of their required or even merely preferred imbibement… other fleshfeasters began to lose control. All restraint thrown to the wind as gnashing teeth and flashing claws bore down on the dead, the dying and those who begged for regeneration against the pain of being Without.
Such a delightful juxtaposition, formal attire and frocks, and a tableau of fangs and claws all desperate for blood. Sadly, the golden light would hold their jaws open and away from the throats of sinners who should be meals; their claws blunting on nothing.But once in that level of frenzy, the bloodlust did not assuage until food was obtained.
Charlotte’s insulting false meat offerings, poorly spiced as they were, would simply not suffice. Any cannibal or bette who managed to choke it down out of politeness faced wearing it within mere moments, as their bodies rejected foreign substances.
“Dad, Alastor, help us!” Charlotte called, using fireworks to blind some of the flesh-hungry predators circling her. Desperate for food enough to take on the Princess herself.
“Now, assholes!” Vaggalia Blueberry Jnr snapped, breaking Bartholomew’s ribcage with a violent kick across the room. “How the fuck can we stop them?”
Alastor can’t help the way a laugh bubbles out of his throat, and rises, echoing in the room at the sheer absurdity of the question. “STOP THEM? My dear, this is your very doing! They are trapped in a desperate cycle of Feast or Starve, and you have blunted their only way to break free… ah, if only you had listened!”
He was losing control of himself. “And you know the most DELIGHTFUL part? All these deaths are on your hands! These fools, and dear Husker… an eternal cycle of torment just for the sake of your little feelings. Well now, Charlotte… are we people to you yet? Or simply Winners to Be you haven’t found worthy? Hmmm, do tell…”
Oh, she was starting to cry. Rage and self pity.
The taste of it was sweet on his tongue as the Rage and Hunger swept through him like a rising tide. His body began to elongate, joints cracking and shadows lengthening in anticipation as the grin grew obscenely large, too wide and menacing. He resented the muzzle of golden light, but needs must.
“And you know the most delightful part, my dear?” He grinned, eyes flickering to radio dials. “It seems I have found myself a little loophole…”
Charlotte went stiff with horror, and Vaggi had to drag her into the sky to protect her from the fighting below.
“Why… I quit!” He laughed, light fading as he turned and launched his open maw right at the little king.
They’d been fuzzy to start with and then blossomed out to big ducky things.
Heh, ducks.
Hmm, what about Ducks though? Charlie had said no more to his pretty ducks… and now things were all fluffy-fuzzy like the world wasn’t real. Well, to be fair, nothing was really real, he and the others had helped make it from-... uh, from the thing that blows mortal minds apart when he whispers the name…
How did it go?
Kreesh… no, more resonant frequency, er, Byhthl-... damn, having this whole physical body thing had drawbacks. The vocal range was terrible!
He giggled at the floppy sensation of his body’s tongue. It was so weird! Even after all these millennia, the oddities of the semi-humanoid form still intrigued and occasionally horrified him. It was like a pet you lived in! Always needing something…
Hold on, coherent thought was returning. He felt his body reacting to panicked cries, but not consciously. And that…? That scared him.
Lucifer hadn’t been this out of it since… since Lillith left and he drank all the Beezlejuice in the palace. He wa never, ever, ever on the name of his father may he fall as well, doing that again. Just… never again.
He didn’t know where former angels went when they died, but he’d felt close to finding out when the angelic hangover kicked in.
Something at the back of his brain was tingling, like a little alarm trying to bring his attention to an important matter. Well, no. It was more all over, but trying to talk to corporeal beings about existing as something near infinite with tendrils throughout the realm was hard when all they saw was a little shell and-...
No, focus, there’s a Problem!
He knows the feeling. It says there’s something Not Right and he, as the King and Charlie’s Awesome and Loving Daddy, needs to Find it and Fix it.
At first, there is consternation.
His fingers didn’t want to cooperate at all, which was rude. He could feel something dancing over his cosmic essence; it almost felt like a vibration ran through them. As if… a string had been plucked, or severed, and he could feel it screaming in the silence left behind.
Some part of his leftover Grace must be protesting taking the awful candies Charlotte gave him… but she’d been so sincere, and really wanted to help. So he’d let the little things fill him with cotton and quietness, like she promised it would.
It was the least he could do after all these many years of ignoring her calls. Of not being the Dad she needed when she needed him. Of not being the husband that Lillith had-...
His core clenched.
Not quite a heart, not how humans and sinners would understand, but something ached within at the idea of never being enough after all they had suffered together throughout millennia. Something that would remain wounded until the revelation beasts were set free to sunder the known worlds and bring the whole thing to its natural conclusion.
“DAD!” The horrified shriek of a familiar voice breaks through some of the internal fog, and Lucifer’s body jerks in its seat, eyes blinking mechanically to focus on the Now. He was always so bad at staying in linear time… why had they set the universe so mundanely? He always thought of existence as a stained glass window, fragments of then and now and maybe and before and could be all shimmering in a pretty pattern…
Wait, what was she calling about?
Sharp teeth were heading his way. Right… not good. The jagged shards easily his height or greater, and not constrained one iota by golden light. Wait, was that the Ping? A snapped ward?
Instinct fell into place and he allowed his Grace to purge the remnants of the odd candies from his system, clarity snapping back into place like a sharp slap across the face. It was disorienting and yet, oddly thrilling. Like hearing the war trumpets sounding out and filling his essence with daring.
Who would dare…? Oh.
His face fell.
Yeah, that fucker sure would test him like this.
Shadowy tendrils lashed out at the king, tearing half the table into splinters before him and sending his chair careening into the far wall with a loud crunch. A bellow made the King squint a little from the volume, but this was hardly the first overlord he’d put into their place… as a means of self protection of course. Not seeking to Hurt anyone.
A fun little loophole he’d found a few years back to prevent his own demise.
With a flare of his wings, golden light encircling them like a spotlight, Lucifer easily brushed aside the shadowy tendrils reaching to rend him to pieces. The deer shrieked in that awful static mix that irritated every last nerve as the barely-divine glow melted his pit-born powers.
Yeah, bet that stung there, Clifford.
He tempered that thought carefully, as if ensuring he wouldn’t be censored for that little slip up by having another divine rug-pull from above. But when no retribution came, he hovered above the glaring dials fixated on his every twitch. Something about that seemed off for the posh prick but he wasn’t sure.
Time to antagonise, stall a bit.
“Whoa there Bambi, you finally want to try the Dad Off part 2, huh? And you couldn’t think of a better opening lyric than attempted regicide? WEAK!” He laughed, diving about the renewed attempts to pluck him from the air, like a plane taunting godzilla in a cheesy black and white movie.
Lucifer pauses, taking in the chaos below. “Oooohkay, not just Rudolph then, huh? Char Char, honey, what happened?”
His daughter was hovering nearby in Vaggi’s arms, her cheeks stained with tears. She struggled to get enough air to speak between sobs. “I-I-I just… just wanted to h-h-h-he…help them!” she wailed, and his heart broke for her.
She really was the best part of him. Just… a bit naive, like he had been in the Garden. And that was his greatest fear, honestly.
“The wards are working, but I don’t think Ch-... I don’t think WE anticipated the level of dependency of the sinners, Sir.” Vaggi replied, eye wide in horror. Once more sharing the blame for Charlie, because she loved her.
“You just asked me to magic the alcohol out of the place, right? This… was always going to be bad but… not like this.” Lucifer frowned, sending golden light to pin down Alastor’s wrists to the floor, forestalling a potential mauling before it came. “Settle down, Bellhop, I’m trying to fix this.”
He glances at the sudden look of avoidant guilt on Charlie’s face. That sent a sinking feeling right to his toes. “Char Char, can you tell me what happened?”
“I…” she hiccupped, “I might have… banned a few other things. Like all the drugs hidden in the hotel, and Niffty from cleaning, and the cannibals from eating sinner meat…”
Oh. Oh that explained so much.
He turned back to the Bellhop and no longer saw a really weirdly annoying rival for Charlotte’s attention, but instead a fleshstarved cannibal type creature in full Hunt Fervour, beyond cognition or restraint. And now as he glanced down upon their crazed subjects, he saw that Bambi wasn’t the only one ready to Feast.
“Honey, didn’t I ever tell you about Sinner forms?” he started, gently, only to cut off in surprise as a key bounced off his head. It barely stung, but another plucked string caught his attention sharply.
One of the cannibettes had another sinner’s corpse in their mouth, tearing it to shreds in desperation to feast on the flesh, the organs, the marrow from cracked bones until the Hunger abated. And that one little act seemed to bring about a storm of ‘check outs’, each snapping the constraints holding them back from their current desires.
Charlotte must have been too specific in her warding requests when his mind had been absent from his body. To tie their conformity to employment or guest status was… admittedly an easy out for this situation, but overall dangerously sloppy when it came to contractual type bindings. He really needed to talk to her about that in future. No daughter of his would be bamboozled and enslaved by some smirking Overlord in future through wordplay…
The carnage below was getting gratuitous, little fountains of arterial spray rising like an impromptu fountain display, as the room was painted in shades of gore and gurgling horror. It was nothing unusual for Hell, on any street one chose to walk at any time of day… and yet, the horror was simply that it was happening inside the place Char Char had tried to make safe from exactly this. Although she had wrought such chaos with her own overeager hands.
Now was not the time for blame.
And he’d never been good at it anyway… after all, last time he’d messed up his Father had hurled him into a pit of fire and misery for eternity… so usually, Lilith handled things like time-out while Lucifer had a small existential crisis over not being like his own cosmic parent.
Charlie whimpered. “I thought I could help them move through these cravings and become better… and now look at them!”
Lucifer, more aware of the circumstances now, felt the mantle of the King land on his shoulders. He would handle this… and then, he would have a talk with his daughter about the true nature of sinner forms, how this had come to pass. More importantly, how Hell was a perpetual punishment with no easy outs, and altruism could kill if applied with reckless abandon.
“Okay, so this is a mess, but nothing that can’t be fixed. Ma-... Vaggi, can you please cover Charlotte’s eyes for a minute, this is about to get much, much worse.” The ex-orcist complied immediately, burrowing the blonde’s face into her shoulder and muttering soothing things to muffle some of the horror about to occur.
With tired eyes, the King beheld the mess below, most of the sinners deceased or feasting, and snapped his fingers to remove the last threads of restraint from the assembled. The dead become the very sustenance required to slake the bloodlust of the cannibals, solving the immediate threat from them. He even tossed a dead zebra-fish looking sinner at the Bellhop, and tried very hard to meditate on the frequency of the universe over the top of the delighted humming and crunching that came from that never-to-be-mentioned blot of altruism.
The rest was simply a matter of returning what was, and tweaking the regenerative abilities of the deceased to ensure that they returned to vitality on hotel grounds where possible. With an indolent wave Lucifer reset the bar, relocating the juice counter a few feet to the right and expanding the room a few additional feet to compensate. Physics was… a really weird trick humans decided to play on themselves, deciding everything had set shape and mass and dimensions. One day they might even get the joke.
For now, he could feel grim amusement about the whole thing.
He re-seeded little stashes of various narcotics in the hidden spaces and crawlholes of the place, they would be found by their desperate seekers in the near future. Had they never noticed how such things would regenerate, or were the withdrawals too sharp by then for thought?
He could not bring harm to sinners, and Lucifer, though rarely as focused on the sinners outside of when Charlie needed him to be, understood that some harms were imperative. To keep the sinners Char Char was supporting alive, he’d had to keep certain things from her sight… and it was now, with only the limited two eyes he had out at present, that the King truly understood how little his daughter comprehended of Hell. Of sinners and punishment. Of the true meaning of helping in what appeared to be counterproductive ways.
He would have to make arrangements with the street cleaning guild for some corpses to be dropped to the kitchens regularly, this sort of chaos couldn’t happen again. It was messy, for one, and it was really upsetting his daughter. That was, kinda his fault, though.
So he’s only blaming the bellhop maaaaaaaaaybe 53% for this…
“Come on, I think we need to have a talk, Char Char…” he soothes, opening his arms for his daughter, and she launches herself across the open air at him without hesitation. She’s apologising in a messy puddle of words and sobs that seemed impossible to be happening from just the one face. He pats her on the back, feeling a little anxious about the fact that this conversation is likely to cause further distress.
“Why yes, I do think this whole charade has gone on long enough, hmmm?” said a voice that nearly startled the King right out of the air and left him fumbling to keep grip on Charlotte.
He whirls about to find a regular sized bellhop raised to their height by shadowed tendrils, delicately dabbing at the gore about his smile with a kerchief.
Before he can muster a scathing reply, the dining room doors burst open.
A fully weaponised Niffty explodes into the room in a cleaning frenzy, hear squeal of delight near super sonic, and a very well armed Cherri Bomb storms in close behind, lobbing explosives at anyone who even looks funny at the red blur.
“Perhaps we should adjourn to the bar, hmmm? I suspect that’s where Husker is now he’s alive once more.” The red bastard suggests.
“Yes. Please. Need alcohol now.” Vaggi deadpans as four sets of eyeballs fly past her face.
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