Chapter Text
Hell. A place where sinners go to rot, to suffer. Overpopulated and sickening, the constant stench of rotting corpses which littered the grounds wafted through the air at all times.
Some were weak, pathetic. Some held no power, those who would never be more than someone who fights imps. Some held less than no power. The poor unfortunate demons who decided selling their soul was their only option. However, Husk was not one of those demons.
When Husk manifested in Hell, he was confused. Not on why he was in Hell, no that was pretty clear, but why he was a cat of all things. He thought back to his last moments. He was performing a magic show in Vegas. It was Christmas, so he was standing under an angel statue, wowing the crowds. He remembered hearing a cat yowl from above him. Husk looked up to be met with the view of a falling angel. Well… it explains the cat body- and the wings.
However, once he had gained his bearings, Husk's lifestyle didn't exactly change. He went from casino to casino, earning cash by cheating games. The other gamblers never caught on, as they never did when he was alive. Husk was a drunk and a gambler, but he was a damn good one.
But one day, everything changed for Husk. He sat in a lousy casino on the inbetween of Imp City and Pentagram City, doing his regular business of scamming lowlifes, idiots who could never see through his sleight of hand. This place were slums, if Husk had his own casino, it would be far grander than this. He missed the casinos in Vegas. They functioned as a trap, to make people stupid enough to gamble away their life. Depressing as it may be, Husk found comfort in them, it was where he grew up. This place, however, did not provide that comfort.
“Royal flush!” Husk exclaimed, pulling in all the chips from the many players who played against him. They grumbled in frustration, most of which left the table. But one remained. “Good game,” Husk stated. He was no sore winner. He was a worse winner when he won legitimately- which he had this time, strangely enough- but he had manners. Since Husk detested sore winners, he'd never stoop to be one himself.
The gambler he'd beaten seemed fidgety. He had just lost everything. Well, it was his own fault for betting everything, but Husk couldn't help but feel slight remorse. He'd been there himself when in life, where he bit off more than he could chew and bet more than he could afford. “Bullshit! How'd you win that!? I want a rematch!”
Husk scoffed. Remorse gone. “Rematch? You ain't got a damn thing left to bet,” Husk replied, shrugging. The Sinner thought for a moment. It was clear he was addicted to gambling, he needed his fix of fresh dopamine. Too bad Husk needed his fix far more. “I still have my soul!” The Sinner exclaimed. “I bet my soul! If you win, you get my soul. If I win, I get my money back!”
The cat's eyes widened. Husk had bet a lot of things in his life, but never would he gamble for his soul. Well… it's not like Husk would end up with less than he started with tonight if he won, he'd still have more cash than when he walked in.
“Fuck it, what the hell.” He offered a handshake. “I'll take that bet.” Husk didn't fully understand what he was betting, what it would mean to own another's soul. Husk was aware of Overlords, of course, but he never dreamed of becoming one. Would he even want to be one? He knew what they were like, how they acted.
The Sinner eagerly shook Husk's hand. And once Husk placed his winning hand on the table, the Sinner seemed to suddenly sober up. To realise the gravity of the bet he had made and lost. And the moment the cards were down, Husk felt himself being filled with this strange energy. A power that he didn't quite understand. He felt sober, which was weird considering how much alcohol Husk had drunk. He felt stronger. More powerful. Is this how Overlords felt? It was… good.
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Husk gazed over Pentagram city. He stood on the roof of his casino, smoking. It wasn't a habit he often indulged in, but it calmed him down, kept him focused. On nights like tonight, he couldn't afford to be drunk. He was having a couple Overlords over. Mostly out of obligation, of course, but there were a few he was closer with coming. It was business, renewing contracts and such, definitely not a social call and definitely not a time to let his guard down.
He flicked his cigarette off the roof before turning on his heel, walking to the door. He entered his building and began walking down the floors. He called out to his staff a few times, ensuring that they made sure everything was perfect. “Hey, what's the guest list again?” He asked the Sinner he had at the front desk.
“Oh! Hello, Lord Husk. The Overlords that are scheduled to appear are; Rosie, Carmilla Carmine, Zestial, Alastor and the Vees.” Husk groaned in annoyance. “The Vees and Alastor? I thought we agreed to not call those in on the same night?” Husk brought his paw to his forehead, pinching his brow. “Make sure whoever gets here first gets kept on the other side of the table to the other, can't be bothered to deal with one of those jackasses arguing with the other.”
The Sinner nodded. Husk walked away, moving to the door. He detested half his guest list tonight. Well, moreso the Vees. He needed their support, so he was forced to put on a friendly face, even if he wanted to shatter Vox's screen and choke Valentino on his own cigarette. Velvette… well Velvette designed his clothes for him, and you don't mess with your tailor, even if he didn't like her. Alastor was the other problem. He didn't have any disagreements with Alastor, not yet at least, but the deer put him on edge. He unnerved him, and Husk knew what he did to other Overlords. Well, let's just say that he wasn't letting down his guard around him. He was acquainted with Rosie, friendly. He had no complaints about her, despite her eating habits. She was polite and quite sweet, so she was welcome in his casino, but she hung around with Alastor, which prevented him from ever getting close.
Zestial and Carmilla, however, he'd consider friends. Zestial was closer to the Radio Demon than he'd prefer, but hey, the guy grew on him. Carmilla was impressive to Husk. He admired how protective of her daughters she was, it was quite inspiring, in all honesty. And Husk would be a liar if he said he's never appreciated the weapons she provides him with.
Husk walked over to a mirror, making sure his appearance was up to snuff. That's when one of his employees ran over. “Lord Husk! Ms. Carmilla has arrived!”
The cat smirked. “Well then, let's begin the night.” Husk smiled a soft smirk. Not smug, not cocky, a facade. There was one thing Alastor did which Husk agreed with. Keeping a smile. Poker faces was his talent after all, a man who's bluffs were hard to call.
“Carmilla,” Husk greeted, gently taking her hand and kissing it. It was a custom he had picked up to charm his guests. To make them forget he's an Overlord and make them more comfortable, more willing to spend money, willing to give their souls. Carmilla, of course, wouldn't be so foolish, but Husk kept his habit anyway.
“Husk,” Carmilla replied, a smile upon her face. “Are the others here?” She asked, looking around. Carmilla enjoyed the place far more than other casinos in Hell. It was clean, for one. Husk ran a tight ship to ensure quality. She especially enjoyed these private nights, when none of the regular sinners would be staring at her while she blew off some steam from the amount of work she did.
“Not yet, but they'll be here soon.” And soon there they were. Husk watched as the other Overlords trickled in. He sat in between Carmilla and Rosie, shuffling cards. Only Valentino showed up. He picked up a few words from Valentino now and again. Something about a ‘whore’ called Angel Dust not answering his calls and setting up shop in some hotel. Alastor seemed all round disinterested in gambling, but was here anyway? He kept looking at Husk once in a while before checking his monocle. Great, he wanted to talk to him. That's never good.
Husk shuffled his deck. “Alright, you lot know the rules, you all get 100 chips each on the house. Feel free to bet your own crap if you lose it,” Husk said, dealing the cards out.
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Husk sighed, sitting at his desk. The night had gone on for a while, with Valentino losing quite a significant amount of money. Sucker. Husk now had to sign the soul contracts the losers of the casino today had signed. It was work he'd prefer not to do, because paperwork was never his style, but it was the most convenient method for him to gather souls.
There was a knock at his office door. His eyes flicked up at the door and then back down to his paperwork. “Come in,” Husk called out, knowing who stood behind the door. “Husker!” Alastor exclaimed, opening the door and walking in.
“Hey, Alastor. Whatcha need?” Husk asked, growing lightly under his breath at the nickname the demon had given him. “Well, my feline friend, I have an excellent proposition for you!” Alastor twirled his mic as he walked to the desk, leaning against it slightly as he spoke.
Husk put down his pen, curious. He looked up at Alastor. “A proposition?” Husk questioned. “I ain't making a deal with you, I know your game, Alastor. You'll probably try to weasle me out of my soul.” Alastor laughed. That twisted, horrible laugh. “Who's asking for your soul, Husker? No no, I came to talk to you about a hotel!”
“A… hotel?” Husk questioned, raising a brow. “Yes! It's founded by Miss. Charlie Morningstar to redeem sinners! Quite entertaining, I know!”
Husk laughed. It was half genuine, half out of finding the idea ridiculous. “Charlie? As in Lucifer's kid? Starting a hotel for redemption. She ain't got a snowflake's chance here for that to happen.” Husk took a sip of his whisky. It was the expensive stuff, not the cheap shit he had back on Earth.
“Agreed!” Alastor exclaimed. “So what? Why are you tellin’ me this?” Husk questioned. “What's your angle?” Alastor's smile grew. “Entertainment, my dear friend! I have been quite bored, and watching Sinners try to better themselves, only to fall to despair is the perfect source, watching Sinners lose everything here is a close second. I have agreed to help Charlie, otherwise no one would come and I would therefore have no one to watch!” Husk rolled his eyes. “And that involves me how?”
“Well, the hotel could always use something to attract more Sinners, and I know that's your speciality, my friend!” Husk sarcastically laughed. “Uh, yeah, no. I ain't working for you or Lucifer's kid.” Husk felt the fur at the back of his neck tuff up. The sooner Alastor left, the better. “Oh, you won't be working for me! No, we'd be working together!”
Husk thought for a moment. “Listen, I'll think about it if there's something good for me.” Alastor shrugged. “Fair enough. How about offer you some radio advertisements, hm? My broadcasts reach all the way to the outskirts of the Pride ring after all!”
That… was a pretty good deal. Alastor had a lot of influence, even if he didn't want it. That'd be good publicity, and more importantly that'd be more souls. “Fine, I'll check it out, but I ain't sticking around unless you got some good fucking booze there, ya hear me?”
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“Hazbin Hotel? Charming,” Husk sarcastically stated, looking up at the place. It was nowhere near as grand as he was used to. Husk confidently strode up the steps. He adjusted his coat, made sure his hair was perfect, and knocked on the door. Well, no turning back now.