Chapter 6: News

I have been seeing a lot of Hazbin Hotel, well more of a rewatch. And I have to say, I really can't wait for season two of it, I need more god dammit!!!

Please leave a comment! That's the only way I know you want more chapters!

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Chapter 6

Alastor's eyes were fixated on his hand, the markings pulsing with an otherworldly light. His mind was torn between the burning pain of his summoning mark and the guilt that weighed heavy in his chest. Nifty's words lingered in his mind, begging him to stay and try his best to fix his relationship with Vaggie, but he couldn't ignore the pull of the one who owned his soul calling upon him.

The pain surged through him, so intense that he could barely form words. Teeth gritted, he squeezed his hand into a tight fist, trying to stifle the agony as his fingers trembled and turned white from the force. "Not now." he managed to growl through clenched teeth, fighting against the searing sensation that threatened to consume him.

The pain was growing more intense by the moment, impossible to ignore despite his best efforts. His master called, and he had no choice but to answer, no matter how much he wished to stay and mend things with Vaggie.

With great reluctance, he rose from his seat, straightening his jacket and smoothing back his hair. It was time. He had lingered here too long as it was. His master was not one to be kept waiting.

 "I apologize for the abrupt departure, my dear," he said, turning to Nifty with his usual showman's smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "But I'm afraid I must take my leave for now. Do give the others my regards." 

He paused for a moment, hesitating about what to say next. 

 ". . . make sure to keep her safe while I'm gone." 

With a half-hearted wave, he disappeared in a crackle of eldritch energy, leaving the kitchen cold and empty with only the little sinner left in the room. Nifty stood there for a moment, the residual energy from Alastor's departure prickling her skin. She took in the silence of the kitchen—the stillness was unsettling, replaced not long ago by the fiery exchange between Vaggie and Alastor.

…

…

…

The radio demon was transported to a realm beyond the comprehension of mortal minds. A place where no weak soul would hope to survive as its mere presence would cause the soul to shatter into millions of pieces and be consumed. The void was the place where the one who owned the soul resided. It was truly a monstrous place to be.

Unfortunately for the void, the radio demon's soul was far from weak. Alastor merely grunted as he felt the darkness try to rip apart his soul. As if the realm itself wasn't trying to tear his very being into pieces, he continued to walk deeper into the darkness.

As he walked the mark on his hand that burned painfully in what felt like thousands of needles stabbing into his hand slowly lessened to that of a bearable sting. The familiar, dissonant sounds of the void filled his ears like a chaotic symphony, an orchestra of madness playing only for him. He passed through the shifting landscape with a sense of purpose, though his heart remained heavy with the conversation he left behind.

After what seemed like an eternity of wandering through the abyss, Alastor finally stood before the colossal throne carved from darkness itself. Atop it sat his enigmatic master, an entity whose very presence was enough to shake the foundations of lesser minds. Shrouded in an aura of absolute power and inscrutable malice, the figure regarded Alastor with an eerie silence.

"Ah, my dear Alastor," The voice boomed and reverberated through the vast emptiness, its source impossible to pinpoint. It was feminine in tone, both melodic and terrifying at the same time. "You have arrived at last."

The radio demon bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect—or perhaps one born out of necessity. "You summoned me, master. I am here to serve as always," he replied, keeping his tone neutral to mask the tempest raging within him.

The master's laugh reverberated throughout the void, a chilling sound that knew no mirth—only dominance.

"Your loyalty is commendable," the voice cooed, her sarcastic voice sending ripples of disquiet through the void. "But we must discuss the wavering quality of your servitude as of late."

"You've grown attached to those creatures in that pitiful hotel, haven't you?" The tone was mocking, yet sharp as a blade's edge. "It's unbecoming for someone of your caliber to be so... humanized by such trivial associations."

Alastor felt a surge of irritation rising within him, but he quelled it quickly. Showing emotion here was akin to exposing a weakness to an apex predator. Instead, he responded with measured calm,  "They are merely toys for my entertainment master. Nothing more." 

"Truly?" She asked before laughing heartily, the sound echoing ominously around them. "We both know that's not quite the case, do we not? Your heart pulsates with a different rhythm when you speak of them—especially that girl. Vaggie, was it? Do you consider her a toy as well?"

She appeared beside him; her arms wrapped around his neck as she stared into his eyes with her eyes made of white abyss. Their faces were dangerously close together.

Alastor's silence following the pointed question was deafening. His stance rigid, his fists clenched ever so slightly at his sides, he fought to maintain an air of indifference. The mere mention of Vaggie by this entity cracked his facade, revealing the tiniest sliver of anger.

The master leaned forward, her form still obscured by shadow and power, peering down at Alastor. "Oh, don't look so surprised. Did you really think you could hide her from me? I who control the infinite expanse of your damnation? Don't make me laugh."

The red-haired demon could feel her arms tighten around his neck as she said this.

"Don't tell me you still have feelings for that pathetic girl." She growled, the void trembling at her voice.

The overlord glared at her, his entire body trembling, barely able to hold himself back from lashing out. 

 "I assure you master, my actions have not been compromised," he stated with a steely edge to his voice.  "I serve at your whim and your will alone. Any... personal entanglements are as fleeting as the lives of sinners." 

"Oh, Alastor." The master's voice dripped with a faux disappointment that was more frightening than any fury she could unleash. "Your words once had the strength of iron chains; now they sound like brittle twigs snapping underfoot."

She moved then, a mere suggestion of shifting form within the thick darkness, and the entire realm seemed to gasp with her movement.

The air grew colder, the shadows within the void pulsing with silent laughter. Alastor felt the oppressive weight of his master's attention tightening around him like a vice. Still, he remained composed, his voice steady as he crafted his reply.

 "Any semblance of fondness is merely a ruse to further my own endeavors in that hotel," Alastor said, his words sounding hollow even to his own ears. "It provides ample distraction and serves as an excellent source of amusement for myself." 

"Amusement," the master echoed mockingly, the word lingering in the air like a curse. Chains suddenly appeared in her hand, her anger rising. "Do not forget your place! You are here by my grace, existing at my whim. The hotel and its inhabitants are but specks compared to the grandeur of your servitude to me."

Alastor bowed his head as she tugged on the chains like a leash, masking his rising emotions with his ever-present smile. "Of course, my allegiance is to you. I've not forgotten the deal that binds me."

The master's gaze turned away from him, focusing on some distant point in the murky darkness. "See to it that you do not forget," she said pointedly. 

"You exist because I allow it. You have power because I grant it. And you will continue to serve because I demand it."

There was a pause—a moment where the only sound was the hum of the void's energy—and then she continued, her tone slightly softer, yet no less dangerous. She moved closer to him until there was no space left between them. 

"Remember, Alastor, that the essence of your servitude lies not in the superficial actions you take but in the loyalty that binds your soul to mine. It is a bond forged in darkness, unbreakable and eternal."

"If you prove yourself to be distracted by these insects, our arrangement may require... adjustments. Do I make myself clear, Alastor~?"

The underlying threat in her voice was palpable, sending shivers down the spine like the sharp edge of a knife pressed against one's throat. She held out her other hand, fingers splayed and trembling with power. Within her palm burned a pure, bright light that illuminated the darkness around them. It was as if she held a piece of the sun within her grasp. Alastor's eyes widened, and the image of Vaggie's soulless body flashed through his mind, remembering all too well what the monster in front of him was capable of.

The chains tightened around his soul from his silence, demanding his answer to her question.

 "...Crystal," Alastor replied with a tight smile, his voice the very model of demonic obedience. But within the depths of his crimson eyes, a rebellious spark flickered, one that had not been there before. A dangerous spark that could, given time, light a fire even in this realm of eternal darkness.

His master seemed satisfied with his response, her form retreating into the shadows once more, though the oppressive feeling of her presence never truly faded. "Good. Remember, I will be watching, always watching. Every step you take within that hotel, every word you speak—every breath they take—I will know."

With her final words echoing through the void like a sinister lullaby, the entity's presence receded into the ethereal fabric of their darkened realm. The chains disappeared as if they were mere illusions, leaving Alastor alone with his thoughts, which raced like hunted prey in the forest of his mind.

Alastor remained stationary, his eyes fixed on the spot where she had vanished. He knew better than to believe that her absence meant any sort of reprieve; he was never truly alone, not with her omnipresence lurking in every shadow.

As the burning sensation on his hand faded into a dull throb, Alastor slowly lifted his gaze. The dissonant sounds of the void had quieted to a mere background murmur, but the silence that now fell was far worse—a canvas waiting for the paint of fresh torments.

He straightened his posture and adjusted his suit, an instinctual action born out of a desire to appear unshaken. But the mask of the debonair and unflappable radio demon was cracking, fissures spreading just below the surface. His thoughts drifted to Vaggie and the motley crew of lost souls at the hotel.

They were an anomaly in his existence, an unexpected variable that even a master planner such as himself couldn't have predicted. Attachment was a weakness, but it was also undeniably human—an aspect of himself he thought he had long since discarded.

With the weight of his master's threat still hanging over him like an executioner's blade, Alastor began to weave his way through the void, each step measured and deliberate. As he walked, his mind spun a web of strategies and contingencies.

Alastor knew the rules of the game he was in; he understood the stakes better than anyone. Yet, within him, something had shifted. The thought of those at the hotel - vulnerable and foolish as they may be - suffering and making Vaggie sad left a sour taste in his mouth. The mere thought of Vaggie being hurt in any way ignited a fiery rage within him.

The overlord would play along, and sustain the facade of the loyal servant, but now he played for a dual purpose. To serve the whims of his master, yes, but also to protect what had become his. He will find a way out of the binding contract that held his soul captive, regain his freedom, and break the chains that bound him.

And maybe…

…

 Just maybe… 

….

He could regain what he had lost.

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Mayberry grumbled as she sat on a stool with a drink in hand, the silence and the burning sensation in her throat calming. The demoness was enjoying her stay in the hotel, despite the fact that she was in literal hell. With another sip of her drink, Mayberry stared at the demon cat-bird thing behind the bar dealing her cards.

"Hit me." She growled, glaring down at her cards with an intensity hotter than the flames of hell.

". . .You sure about that?" Husk asked with a raised eyebrow, glancing at her cards incredulously.

"Just give me another fucking card!" She yelled angrily, reaching out and grabbing the top card from the deck. She flipped it over to see what it was and what she was met with was the queen of hearts. "FUCK!!!"

"HAHAHAHA! You should've quit while you were ahead, toots!" Angel Dust crackled as he took the handful of cash that was in between the two of them and pulled it into chest fluff.

The pink-skinned demon slammed her head into the bar table with a groan. She just lost all the money she had and was now broke. With a growl, she gulped down the rest of her drink, slammed the cup down, and got up to go sulk in the entertainment room.

"Told her to quit while she was ahead, but the newbies never listened," Husk smirked as he shuffled the deck in his experienced hands

"You're telling me! I've never seen anyone as stubborn as her since Nifty first tried her hand at blackjack," Angel Dust responded with a laugh, sliding into the stool Mayberry vacated. "Looks like it's just you and me now, pussycat. Deal 'em out!"

Husk let out a low grunt of acknowledgment, the corner of his mouth twitching in what could be interpreted as amusement—though with Husk, it was always hard to tell. The cards were dealt swiftly and efficiently, the sound of their flick against the worn wood of the bar top a familiar cadence in the otherwise erratic rhythm of Hell.

Mayberry grumbled under her breath as she entered the room, spotting the owner of the hotel and her girlfriend already taking up the couch that was directly in front of the TV. With a sigh, she sat down on the red velvet chair that was beside the couch.

The two didn't seem to notice her enter the room, or should she say the princess of hell didn't notice as she was too busy excitedly discussing how to advertise her hotel and plans for redeeming sinners. Vaggie however noticed her immediately and was eyeing her down while still talking to the princess.

The former teacher could feel a sense of hostility coming from her, and it made her fidget uncomfortably on the plush chair. She has no idea as to why the demon would have any reason to be seeing as she has yet to do anything to warrant such hostility.

"Is there a problem?" Mayberry finally bothered to ask, her voice gruff and defensive.

Vaggie's gaze didn't waver, but after a moment of staring at her, she responded to her question. "No problem," she said curtly, then turned her attention back to Charlie.

The newly born sinner wasn't convinced though; something about the way Vaggie watched her spoke of unspoken worries or maybe even suspicions. Perhaps it was due to the ruckus at the bar, or some other misstep Mayberry had taken without realizing it. She thought back to everything she had done so far in the hotel but found nothing that would cause the demon to glare at her.

To her relief, Charlie then piped up, her enthusiasm as infectious as ever. "Oh! Mayberry, you're here! Do you have any ideas for our new promotional campaign? We're brainstorming ways to reach more sinners who might want to redeem themselves!"

Mayberry blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden inclusion into their conversation. She shrugged noncommittally, her mood still soured from her gambling loss, but the flicker of curiosity in Charlie's eyes was hard to ignore.

"Not really my area of expertise," Mayberry grumbled, still feeling the sting of Vaggie's scrutiny. "But, uh... maybe start with something small. Community outreach, flyers, that sort of thing?"

Charlie clapped her hands together excitedly, seemingly pleased with any contribution. "That's a great start! Simple, effective grassroots marketing! It's perfect for our image and our budget."

The pink demon lips formed a small smile at her enthusiasm, it reminded her of her former student's same level of excitement for fun activities that she would have them do. She watched as Charlie's hands blurred as she wrote down all the ideas that formed from her suggestion. However, she quickly became confused when she heard the literal princess of hell mention budget.

"Budget? Why would you worry about something like managing money? Shouldn't you be rich or something?" Mayberry's question hung in the air, the practicality of it slicing through Charlie's infectious enthusiasm like a knife.

Charlie paused, her pen stilling above the paper, and she offered a sheepish grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her eyes glanced at Vaggie before looking back to her, taking a moment to think of how to respond to her question.

"W-Well, y-you see the thing is..." The blonde princess rubbed the back of her head with her hand, pausing to calm herself. "M-My parents didn't really believe in my dreams of redeeming sinners, they laughed when I told them, and said that my little project would be a waste of money. A-And I kind of also got in a fight with them, which didn't help because besides in not believing in my dreams t-they... k-kinda cut me off."

Mayberry's face softened as she listened to Charlie's predicament. Family issues were a sore spot for just about anyone, living or dead, and it seemed the princess of Hell was no exception. A part of her wanted to reach out, to offer some sort of comfort or support as she would to her students, but she wasn't quite sure how.

Charlie's shoulders sagged slightly, as though the weight of her dreams and aspirations were physically pressing down upon her. Vaggie reached over to give Charlie's hand a gentle squeeze, a silent show of support between them.

"But that's okay," Charlie continued with a renewed spark of determination lighting up her eyes. "I don't need their money. This hotel – it's about proving that anyone can change, and that redemption isn't just a pipe dream. And if I have to do it on a shoestring budget, then so be it!"

Her girlfriend smiled at her enthusiasm, happy at seeing her optimism shining through despite the less-than-satisfactory situation she was in. Mayberry hummed as she saw how quickly Charlie recovered from her sad mood and reverted back to how she was before, with smiles and rainbows.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!@"

They were interrupted however by the sound of Angel Dust screaming at the top of his lungs in outrage. Seconds passed as they waited for what was about to happen next before their attention changed from listening to what Angel was going to scream next, to Husk walking in chuckling as he did so. They noticed there was a heavy wad of cash in his hand and the dots quickly connected.

"Husk! How many times do I have to tell you that there is no gambling allowed in the hotel!" Vaggie shouted at him, less than happy with the demon. This caused the demon cat to raise his hand as the universal sign of trying to calm someone down.

"Relax! It was just a little game; no souls were taken just money!" Husk defended himself before taking the wad of cash and tossing it to the newest resident of the hotel. "Here! Next time quit while you're ahead, noobie."

Mayberry's eyes widened as the cash hit her palms, the unexpected generosity sending a jolt of confusion through her. She stared at the money for a brief moment, then up at Husk, who had already turned to go back to his business, the edges of his fur just slightly ruffled by his chuckling. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful or offended by the term 'noobie,' but she opted to latch onto the former feeling as it seemed more profitable in her current situation.

"Thanks," she called after Husk, her voice tinged with reluctant appreciation. She wasn't used to kindness in Hell—no one was—and this sudden turn of events left her feeling oddly disarmed.

"Don't mention it." The hybrid demon grumbled before stopping right before he exited the room and turned around to face the owner of the hotel.

Charlie, noticing him facing her, smiled at him as she curiously looked at him. Wondering what he wanted to ask her as he clearly had the look of someone wanting to say something. "What's up Husk? Need something? Oh! Is there a new guest?!"

He shook his head making Charlie somewhat deflate, He dug his hand into his pant pocket and took out a piece of paper that looked similar to that of a check.

"Alastor wanted me to give this to you, and said that it'll help." He said as he handed her the piece of paper.

"Really? What is it?" With a curious tilt of her head, she reached out to take the paper and flipped it over with delicate fingers. As her eyes scanned the page, a sharp gasp of shock escaped her lips. Her hand flew to cover her mouth as she took in the unexpected contents, her mind racing with confusion and surprise. "T-This has to be a mistake! This is too much money!"

She put the paper onto the table for everyone to see, hoping that she was just imagining things and that everyone else could tell her so.

But there it was, etched in the paper in black ink. A check that held more zeros than Mayberry had seen in her entire life before the fall. Vaggie stepped closer, peering over Charlie's shoulder to get a glimpse of what had elicited such an extreme reaction.

Charlie was practically vibrating with disbelief, "Alastor? But why would he—?"

"I ain't the messenger boy," Husk cut in, his tone gruff but not entirely devoid of curiosity. "He just told me to make sure you got it."

Vaggie was on guard immediately, her eyes narrowing as if the check were a snake ready to strike. "This doesn't feel right," she murmured. "Alastor doesn't just give away money without wanting something in return."

"Maybe he believes in what we're doing here after all," Charlie suggested hopefully, her eyes shimmering with a mix of hope and naivety. The hope that someone as notorious as Alastor could see the good in what they were trying to accomplish was a testament to Charlie's unwavering optimism.

Vaggie, however, remained skeptical.

Despite this, Charlie's eyes were alight with possibilities, the gears in her head already turning over how they could use the funds to further the hotel's mission. Flyers turned into billboards, and community outreach grew to televised advertisements—the potential was endless and intoxicating.

"OOOOHHHH! We can do so much with this! Just think of all the possibilities Vaggie! With this amount of money, we can do things that were out of our reach!" Charlie excitedly screamed out as she bounced up and down before zooming out of the room in a flash.

"Wait, Charlie! Let's not do anything hasty!" Her girlfriend chased after her, not wanting Charlie to get into anything before she made sure it was safe. 

With the two of them gone it was just Mayberry and Husk left in the room. Husk, who saw no reason to be there any longer and was about to leave, was stopped by the former teacher, she had a question she needed an answer to.

"Wait, before you go, can you answer a question of mine?" She asked while pocketing the money into her pocket.

The former overlord shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head, magically taking a bottle of beer out of nowhere. "Sure."

"...exactly how much money does Alastor have?"

 Husk cracked the cap off the bottle with his claw and took a long swig before letting out a contemplative sigh and answering. He leaned against the wall, his eyes taking on a distant look as if peering back across decades at memories only he could see.

"Kid," he began with a wry chuckle that told of secrets and old stories better left unspoken, "if there's one thing I've learned about Alastor, it's that trying to measure that man's resources is like trying to count the stars. You might think you've got a good estimate, but there's always more hiding just out of sight."

Mayberry folded her arms, unsatisfied with the ambiguous response but expecting nothing less when it came to someone as enigmatic as Alastor. The air around them had shifted slightly; with the absence of Charlie and Vaggie, the mood was quieter, allowing for a more candid conversation.

"But you're asking the wrong question." He began, taking a swig of the beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's not about how much money Alastor has; it's about how much power he holds. And believe me when I say, in Hell, power is currenc-"

"HUSKKYYYY!!!! GET BACK HERE SO I CAN KICK YOUR ASS IN BLACKJACK!"

The loud high pitch scream interrupted him as Angel Dust came out of nowhere and yoinked him out of the room, much to both the surprise of Mayberry and Husk. The former overlord struggled to get out of the spiders because of the extra limbs Angel had.

"God fucking dammit! Let me go you son of a bitc-"

And just like that Mayberry was the last one in the room, Mayberry looked around at the empty room, the abrupt departure leaving her with a whirlwind of emotions. It was curious to hear how quickly the dynamics could shift within these walls, from tense discussions about finances and morality to raucous gambling and sudden vanishing acts.

She sat alone in the now-silent room, the echoes of Husk's protests and Angel Dust's gleeful taunts fading into the distance. She inhaled deeply, trying to absorb the whirlwind of events that had just transpired around her. For a moment, she allowed herself to simply exist in the quiet, processing everything.

After a couple of minutes of sitting alone in silence, she sighed to herself and reached out for the remote that lay on the table. Turning the TV on and flipping through the channels, Mayberry observed the different channels with an irritated expression as each one was more terrible than the last.

"Wow, who would've guessed that TV shows in hell are worse than when I was alive?"

She continued flicking through the channels, the images on the screen blurring into a parade of grotesqueries and absurdity fitting for the infernal domain they occupied. Frustrated by the lack of appealing content, Mayberry pressed the button until it began to break.

It wasn't just the low-quality reality shows or the bizarre soap operas that featured demons with more horns than sense; even the news broadcasts were a chaotic mess of fearmongering and sensationalism. Yet, among the cacophony of infernal programming, Mayberry caught a snippet that made her stop flipping channels.

"What the? How is a human channel streaming in hell?" She asked herself with a raised eyebrow. She continued to watch the channel for a few minutes and slowly got bored of it. Just as she was about to change the channel something popped up that made her pause.

The news played out and the more she watched the angrier she became.

"...THAT BITCH FUCKING SURVIVED?!?!"

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