Chapter Text
Charlie peeked through the corner of one of the stained-glass windows set in the grand front door to the hotel.
“A-Al? Vaggie?” Charlie called over her shoulder, eyes huge and a frightened edge to her voice. She turned back, the light of the mob’s torches flickering over her face and the walls around her.
“They're here.”
For the past three weeks, the citizens of hell grew more and more incensed by the hotel and the Princess, fueled by scathing and inaccurate media coverage of what exactly went on in the building. What started as amused contempt had grown into fearful rage.
The going theories for why the Princess of hell would lure sinner demons into the Happy/Hazbin Hotel varied: she was surreptitiously sniffing out sinners who had spoken out against her father, luring them to the hotel to be unceremoniously but secretly slaughtered with Angel weapons; she was holding them in the basement dungeon and torturing them for her own amusement; she was lining up sacrifices for the Radio Demon’s next meal. The list goes on.
All this malice was, funnily enough, because their first redeemed sinner ascended to Heaven. A lamb demon named Bitsie. It had been a surprisingly quiet affair, with no trumpet fanfare or beams of light from the skies above. A friendly-looking angel simply manifested at Bitsie’s side, held out their hand with a smile, and dematerialized, taking Bitsie with them. If she hadn’t been in her therapy session with Vaggie at the time, it’s possible she would have disappeared without a trace.
The demons of the hotel, generally, believed Vaggie’s account of what happened, given many of them were her patients and trusted her wholeheartedly. Charlie, of course, was ecstatic and made Vaggie retell the events over and over again.
But when word got out that one of the patients of the hotel just…disappeared, things got heated quickly.
“Why would those pompous shitbags in Heaven make any kind of appearance down here without a load of attention-grabbing garbage?” Katie Killjoy rattled off fluidly during the news coverage of the event, her insane smile pulling at her face so hard it looked like it hurt.
Social media posts with fabricated stories of sinner demons’ friends going to the hotel and never returning started popping up. Photo shopped pictures of Charlie in her demon form, yanking sinners through the front doors of the hotel were posted and reposted, along with ones of the Radio Demon chowing down on demon patients right out in front of the building.
Regardless of how ridiculous the claims became, they spread like wildfire, the gasoline of news coverage building up the roaring flames.
And now they were faced with a loud, violent, angry mob outside their doors. The only reason the doors hadn’t been kicked down and the hotel set ablaze was the shadows swirling around the perimeter of the hotel. No single demon seemed to be able to work up the nerve to get any closer, but the pressure cooker of mob mentality was coming to a head out there. There wasn’t much time before they’d start taking the place down brick by brick.
Alastor, of course, knew this is where things would eventually lead. He’d done his best to track down the sources of these rumors using all the resources at his disposal, but the speed of internet virality is faster than light and all he was able to determine was that the media overlords Vox and Velvet were at the core of the misinformation. By the time he verified this, the lies were snowballing out of control and he could do nothing to stop them. Not even very strong words exchanged with certain Overlords could help it. It was out of anyone’s hands.
And now, Charlie was getting on his very last nerve.
She wanted to go out and talk to the angry mob. Alone.
“Charlie, please! You have to see how idiotic this idea is! If you go out without protection, or at the very least in your demon form, they’ll rip you to shreds!” Vaggie was on a tear, trying to get the princess to see sense. This argument had been going on for several minutes now.
For once, Alastor and Vaggie were in agreement. He held his tongue for the moment, though.
“Listen, I see where you’re coming from, but I think if we go out there guns blazing, it’ll just make things worse. And I’m tougher than you think I am, Vaggie.” Charlie added disapprovingly.
“Ok, then let us come with you! No weapons, all peaceful, no blazing guns,” the moth demon hissed, pressing her hands together.
“No, its too dangerous.”
Vaggie scream-growled in frustration, pulling on her hair and stomping a few feet away, not looking at Charlie. The princess’ shoulders slumped, looking utterly exhausted.
The Radio Demon noted, not for the first time, the dark circles under her eyes and the sunken appearance of her face. She clearly was not eating or sleeping well. He sighed.
“My dear,” he began, stepping up to her, seemingly next in line in this effort, “even in your currently drained state, I have no doubt in my mind you could still heartily eviscerate any 10, nay, 20 of those demons out there without a drop of sweat from your brow.” Charlie grimaced at his graphic language. He continued, “However…my shadows have determined the mob to be 97 demons strong, and growing. That’s a bit much even when you’re in top form, darling.”
“You’re talking about it like violence is the only answer!” Charlie burst out, waving her hands exasperatedly, “But I’m not convinced it is! Look,” she huffed, sighing and letting her hands drop, “I know you both think this is stupid, but I have proof that my methods work, ok? I may seem naïve to you two, but I was right! There is good in those sinners! Enough to get redeemed! I know that if I can appeal to the good in this crowd out here, they’ll be willing to see the truth.”
Across the room, unable to form words anymore, Vaggie scoffed.
Alastor hesitated, watching the sparkle in Charlie’s eyes that always appeared when she spoke of her passion. He’d grown…incredibly fond of her over these years of building up the hotel, bringing it from the fringes of obscurity to a well-known force for good in this cesspool of worthless scum. The whole affair has been incredibly entertaining, though not in the way he’d expected.
“Charlie, Bitsie was a darling and her well-deserved ascension is to be applauded. As you know, I never thought this nonsense would work. I’m glad to be proven wrong,” he added hastily when she opened her mouth to retort, “but that still brings us to the most important point: she wanted to be here. She craved returning to the arms of her loved ones in Heaven. The moment I told her of this place, she jumped at the opportunity and believed in you and everything you stand for immediately. Those wretches out there,” he pointed to the front door, “have no such desires. Many of them have carved out a place in the brutal hierarchy of hell and have absolutely no motivation to leave it. You are right. But not about everyone.”
Charlie deflated for a moment, and Alastor hoped to the deepest pit of his rotted heart that his words reached her.
Then fire lit behind her eyes and she leaned around him to ask Vaggie, “Angel and Husk got the patients to the basement?”
Letting her head fall into her hands, Vaggie replied a muffled, “Yesh.”
“Alright then. Al, protect the door. I don’t want the safety of our patients compromised.”
“And what about your safety?” Alastor asked in a soft, almost dangerous tone, stepping closer to her. “Seeing as you’re giving marching orders, what, pray tell, shall I do should your safety be compromised?”
The Princess of Hell looked him in the eyes, her mouth a thin line. The determined flame in her eyes nearly blinded him as she finally said, “Do what you have to.”
Alastor’s smile strained so wide, it threatened to pull his face in half.
With that, Charlie turned on her heel to face the door. She took a deep breath, placed her hands on the door handles, squared her shoulders, and muttered, “Don’t take shit from other demons.”
She opened the doors.