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Two people were sat on either side of a bench facing the fountains in Central Park. The one on the left was a skinny white man with white blonde hair and a splatter of freckles. The one on the right was a dark-skinned woman, her ashy brown hair held back by a red bow.
“This,” the woman said, “better be actually important.”
“Calm your tits,” the man said. “When have I ever called you out for stuff that weren’t important?”
The woman blinked at him. “Do you want it chronologically or by category?”
“Oh, c’mon—”
“1987.”
“I dunno what you’re talking about,” the man said. “That outfit was an emergency.”
“2002.”
“It was a limited-edition Ferrari! I needed your credit score!”
“My credit score is made up, just like yours is,” the woman snapped. “You could’ve miracled yourself the damn car.”
“It wouldn’t’ve been the same,” the man sulked.
“Angel,” the woman sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What is this actually about?”
The man cringed slightly as he said, “The Antichrist.”
The woman blinked. “Oh fuck.”
…
In the wise words of Douglas Adam, in the beginning the Universe was created. This had made many people angry and has been widely regarded as a bad move. Vaggie and Angel Dust ought to know, having been around for the entirety of the Universe’s existence and having spent much of that existence as middle managers in the world’s most frustrating bureaucracies.
Vaggie as Heaven’s agent on Earth was to guide humanity to righteousness or some shit. This was a direct quote from her boss. Angel Dust, on the other hand, was to tempt humanity into sin through any means necessary and his boss alternated between being entirely absent and overbearingly micro-managing. Valentino was the master of mixed messages.
There is a certain solidarity in suffering so despite the fact that they are hereditary enemies whose field work is ostensibly to screw the other over, a certain amnesty had fallen between them some time after the turn of 5th century BC. There is only so much you can hate the other side when the only people you interact with from ‘your’ side are insufferable.
Add in the fact that Angel Dust gave up actually doing job several centuries ago and Vaggie had always reinterpreted instructions from Heaven to be whatever she was already intending on doing, you had a recipe for cooled tensions.
They both had their lifestyles and sometimes that meant that when Vaggie was in Rome freeing slaves, she’d come across Angel Dust mid-orgy or when Angel Dust left a wild party in some Victorian’s country estate, he’d pass Vaggie on the way to commit arson or they would find themselves arrested simultaneously1. And then afterwards, they’d go out to get drinks.
By the 21st centuries, they were actually friends and, in another century, they might even be able to admit it.
Vaggie was an overly principled, anger-management case of an angel and Angel Dust was a hedonistic demon with an unwanted, deep sense of morality. In many ways, they were perfect for each other.
The war between Heaven and Hell was always something that vaguely hung over their heads but neither of them were given to talking about it to the other. Or anyone actually. They knew that one day there would be a great battle before (or during , neither side was picky) which the Earth would be destroyed in some fantastically showy form. Hopefully, the audience would be appreciative of the spectacle before their demise.
The thing that would kick off this final battle would, of course, be the Antichrist.
“When is the Antichrist going to get to Earth?” Vaggie asked Angel Dust.
Angel Dust became very invested in his nails. “Well, y’see it, uh, already is on Earth?”
“What?” Vaggie asked. “And you didn’t mention this until now?”
“I didn’t know about any o’ this before yesterday!”
“How the fuck did you not know the Antichrist had been sent up?” Vaggie snapped.
“Get off my dick!” Angel Dust said, equally heated. “I don’t get told shit.”
“You mean you don’t listen.” Vaggie took a deep breath. “How has this happened? You’re Hell’s agent on Earth.”
“They didn’t give the job to me, did they?” he said.
“Who… who did they give it to?”
“You’re not going to like it,” Angel Dust said in a singsong voice.
“Angel—”
“You’ll hate the answer.”
“Angel Dust!”
“It was Alastor.”
The words almost seemed to be visible as they hung in the air. Angel Dust began a mental count down. Three. Two. One—
“Alastor’s back on Earth? And you didn’t mention this.”
Angel gave a desperate shrug. “He don’t exactly tell me his plans and anyway, I stay the fuck away from him.”
“Okay, okay,” Vaggie said, employing the breathing techniques Salacia from her yoga group always recommended. “So, Alastor is back on Earth after delivering the Antichrist to somewhere we don’t know. Is that all correct?”
“Yeah,” Angel Dust said. “Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Well, this, eh, may not’ve actually happened recently.” Angel Dust suddenly became quite interested in the clouds overhead. “The Antichrist might’ve, kinda, been brought to Earth…” he mumbled the end of the sentence.
“What was that?”
“Twenty-five years ago,” Angel repeated himself more clearly.
What Vaggie said next, in addition to the volume with which she said it, disturbed a large group of tourists taking pictures and caused her to get many disapproving looks from parents, one of whom inexplicably put their hand over their toddler’s eyes.
“This gives us no time to fix things!”
“Fix things?” Angel Dust looked Vaggie in the eye for the first time since raising the issue. “What, you have a plan or something?”
“No, I don’t,” Vaggie admitted. “I mean, it’s almost like this was just suddenly presented to me.”
“Well, I’m sorry,” Angel Dust said sarcastically. “Next time I’ll make sure to ease you into it.”
“How the fuck did you only just hear about this now?”
“Yesterday, Vox possessed one of the McDonalds digital order things to tell me.”
“Vox,” Vaggie said slowly, rifling through her mental filing cabinet designated for demons. “I thought you reported to Valentino.”
“Officially, yeah,” Angel Dust said. “But Vox butts his way in when it suits him. Or goes through Val.”
“So, what did Vox want?”
“Apparently, I was supposed to be spying on the Antichrist in order to dig up dirt on Alastor which obviously I wasn’t fucking doing ‘cos this was the first I’d ever heard of it.”
“So?”
“So, then I lied my ass off and pretended I knew exactly what he was talking about but this would’ve all been a below the board thing.” Angel Dust paused. “Well, an even more below board thing. Vox ain't exactly officially sanctioned to have me spy on another Duke of Hell. Anyway, means him and Val are the only ones who care how much I know about this.”
“Because this is Alastor’s responsibility?”
“Right.” Angel Dust clicked his fingers and point at Vaggie. “I ain’t supposed to have anything to do with this. If the big boss got wind that I even got near his kid, I would be dust for real.”
“I’m still confused as to how you didn’t know about this. Fuck, how did I not know about it?”
“They probably sent out one of them Hell wide memos and forgot I wasn’t on the mailing list again 2. Wouldn’t be the first time. D’you know how confusing it is to come back to Hell and learn that they actually got rid of the Deadly Sins like two centuries ago?”
“I did warn you about that.”
“Sorry if I don’t take you as an expert on Hell, Feathers.”
“That’s fair.” Vaggie shrugged.
They sat in silence, contemplating all of the implications of the Antichrist being on Earth.
Angel broke the silence. “Hey, Vaggie?”
“Yeah?”
“Just so we’re clear and all, what did ya mean when you said ‘fix’ things?”
“Oh, uh.” Vaggie spoke to the ground, a truly fascinating conversational partner. “Well…”
“Just ‘cos, uh, what exactly are ya trying to fix? What about the Antichrist needs fixing?” Angel Dust asked the sky.
Vaggie and Angel Dust did not talk about Heaven and Hell. Not to each other and not to anyone else. They would complain about missions or bosses or bureaucracy but they would not talk about ‘their’ side. Because that would be gauche.
But it would also force them to admit, that perhaps, just perhaps, they may prefer Earth to either Heaven or Hell. Both of them had been spending as little time possible in either Home Office as was heavenly/infernally (delete whichever is inappropriate) possible. Because Heaven was full of angels who would call Vaggie a cunt before asking if she remembered the good old days of Sodom and Gomorrah and Hell had Valentino. But you couldn’t just say it. You couldn’t say ‘fuck the binary, let’s just stay on Earth’ because that was just begging for consequence and besides, what if the other angel or demon didn’t feel the same way?
So Vaggie and Angel Dust had never broached the topic and now, here was the Antichrist and Armageddon facing them down.
“Well.” Vaggie coughed then straightened upwards with military precision. “Uh, as an angel it is my duty to help protect the wellbeing of humanity.”
“Uh huh,” Angel Dust said, unimpressed.
“Yes! And, uh, as such, it would be important to, uh, ensure that the Antichrist doesn’t… destroy the Earth.” Vaggie glanced at Angel quickly seeing his unimpressed expression before looking away. “So, uh, it is my responsibility to stop the Antichrist starting Armageddon.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Angel Dust rolled all of his eyes, including the ones not visible.
“Well, why are you concerned about this then?” Vaggie asked. “It’s your side’s plan.”
“Maybe I just want to find her so Valentino doesn’t kill me on his boyfriend’s behalf?” Angel Dust said, lackadaisically.
“Okay, sure.” Now it was Vaggie’s turn to roll her eyes.
“But, I mean,” Angel Dust said, watching a tourist try to take a selfie leaning over the edge of the fountain. “There are some things on Earth that would, ya know, be a shame to lose.”
“Right,” Vaggie said, watching as the phone began to slip through the tourist’s fingers.
“I worked real hard to make some stuff up here,” Angel Dust said. “Like Vegas and non-alcoholic beer and—”
“Selfies?” Vaggie suggested as the tourist let out a great shriek of horror as their phone slammed straight into the fountain’s water.
“Actually,” Angel Dust grimaced. “That one was Velvette.”
“Huh.”
They both watched the tourist lean over to try to fish their phone out, letting out a litany of prayers to God that their phone still be functional.
“You gonna help with that?” Angel Dust asked.
Vaggie shrugged. “Phones are a Hellish invention anyway.”
“What?” Angel Dust stared at her. “No, they’re not. I thought you made them.”
They both looked at each other in confusion before groaning. “Add it to the list.”
The list of human inventions that they had thought either Heaven or Hell was responsible grew longer by the year. By now it ranged from airplanes to the standard deviation to New Jersey and now, apparently also included cell phones.
“This can’t keep happening,” Angel Dust muttered.
“Well, it won’t if Armageddon happens,” Vaggie said.
And there it was, said out loud for both of them to acknowledge. Armageddon would destroy the Earth and they didn’t want it to happen.
“This is going to fucking suck,” Angel Dust. “Ya get that, yeah?”
“Obviously!” Vaggie hissed and then reigned in her temper like a temperamental horse. “This’ll be war if we do it.”
“Not if we do it the right way,” Angel Dust said. “’Cos I am not just going to throw myself down in front of Val, thanks. We gotta be sneaky. Find some way to… muck it up that ain’t obvious?”
“This is too big to handle,” Vaggie said. Angel Dust’s face lit up with a delighted grin but Vaggie interrupted him. “Oh, don’t even say it, it’s too obvious.”
“You’re making me feel unappreciated.”
“I have heard every single dick joke in the history of humanity at this point.” 3
“Are you calling me uncreative?”
“Yes,” Vaggie said plainly.
Angel Dust took a moment to consider this. “Yeah, that’s fair.”
“What we need to do,” Vaggie said, returning to the topic at hand like a dog bringing his master slippers. “is find the Antichrist. Once we know who he is—”
“She.”
“She?”
“She,” Angel Dust repeated. “The Antichrist is a woman. Not very feminist of you, Vaggie, making assumptions, eh?”
“Fine,” Vaggie said. “Once we know who she is, we can decide from there. I mean, I’m sure there are several things we, uh, could do. But we shouldn’t’ get too far ahead. No plan survives first contact with the enemy. So, flexibility. Flexibility is key.”
“You done, Feathers?” Angel Dust raised an eyebrow with the same artistry he danced with.
“The point is we need to find the Antichrist,” Vaggie said. “Do you have any idea where she would have been brought to Earth?”
“Like I said,” Angel Dust said. “Alastor was the demon in charge of bringing her up here and Go—who even knows where he is now? Even if we did find him, he ain’t gonna tell us anything!”
“But there’s no way Alastor raised the Antichrist,” Vaggie pointed out.
Angel Dust paused. The image of Alastor parenting had risen unbidden in his mind. He shuddered. There were some thoughts that scared even demons. “Yeah, nah. So, he must’ve dropped her off somewhere. An orphanage or something.”
“Could she have been given to human parents?”
“I have no fucking idea.”
“Angel Dust, can you try, for once in your existence, to be helpful?”
Angel Dust sighed like the fate of the world depended on him leaving bed on a cold winter morning. “Well, Vox is a fucking weirdo who keeps track of where demons enter Earth. So, we could find out where Alastor appeared with the Antichrist.”
“Angel Dust, that’s perfect,” Vaggie said. “How do we find those records?”
“Shouldn’t be hard, really,” Angel Dust said, considering the matter. “I can just check it on my phone.”
“Okay.” Vaggie waited, watching Angel Dust not move a muscle. “Are you going to do it now?”
Angel Dust stood up. “Nah, I left my phone back at mine.”
Vaggie looked pointedly at the phone in Angel’s hand. “That’s my cell phone,” Angel Dust explained, exasperatedly. “My hell phone is in a lock box at the Hotel. No way am I using my work phone for my hookups.”
“Fine.” Vaggie stood and they left the park.
Vaggie let herself be led by Angel Dust through the busy streets of Manhattan. In most circumstance, people naturally would give way to angelic or demonic forces, some primal subconscious instinct recognising them as something other worldly, as something to differ to. Vaggie had walked through battlefields in a straight line as people got out of her way. Angel Dust could part a crowd in a club like the Red Sea. However, New Yorkers were immune to this phenomena. Angel Dust and Vaggie were forced to suffer the indignity of actually walking around other people going about their business.
Nonetheless, they made for a striking pair; Angel Dust dressed all in white and cream and Vaggie in dark grey, her bow the only splash of colour on her. Angel Dust was all smiles while Vaggie scowled at people if they got in her way. What a mess of an angel and demon they were.
“Where are you staying these days?” Vaggie asked Angel Dust as they stepped into a Starbucks. “You mentioned a hotel.”
“Oh yeah,” Angel Dust said. “It’s this rehab-reformation-shelter thing.”
“Wait, you’re in rehab?” Vaggie asked, caught off guard. “Why?”
“One minute, toots,” he said and turned to the barista. Angel Dust did not so much have a coffee order as a coffee commission. It changed every time he got coffee, generally midway through dictating it, and always involved an unholy combination of syrups and espresso shots. New forms of chemistry could have been discovered in his drink. Angel Dust’s teeth had started writing petitions to his brain, begging for him to drinking these concoctions.
He opened his wallet and very counted out the dollars very deliberately. It was remarkably empty for a being who could simply miracle money into existence.
“Thank you, doll.” Angel Dust blew a kiss to the barista4 before sweeping away with Vaggie on his heels.
“Again,” Vaggie said. “You’re in rehab?”
“Eh.” Angel Dust waved his free hand up and down. “I needed a place to crash and Cherri’s in jail again and I think you were in fucking Mexico or something.”
“Guatemala.”
“Whatever. Point is, you couldn’t’ve put me up so I had to find somewhere else.” Angel Dust shrugged. “It’s a pretty sweet deal actually. The girl running this place has no idea what she’s doing so as long as I don’t shoot up in the place, I’m peachy.”
“But why did you need somewhere to stay?” Vaggie asked.
“Couldn’t pay rent. No real loss, that old place was a shit hole.”
“You were paying rent? Why aren’t you just miracaling yourself a lease?”
Both Vaggie and Angel Dust had been using their powers to find themselves places to live for millennia at this point, at one point Angel Dust had acquired a whole castle in what was now Lichtenstein.
Angel Dust’s mouth did something complicated that didn’t quite become a frown. “Val’s started auditing my miracles.”
“What?” Vaggie’s neck made a loud crack with how fast she whipped around to look at Angel Dust.
“Don’t make it a fucking big thing,” Angel Dust said. “It’s just what it is. He went on this whole thing about how I’d been too frivolous with miracles and now if I want ta use one, I gotta get his permission.”
“Holy shit, Angel, why didn’t you tell me?” Vaggie asked, horrified.
“Because it’s none of your business. I can manage this myself.” Angel Dust’s tone left no leeway for arguing.
“Alright,” Vaggie said. “Just… you know I’ll help you if you need anything.”
“Sure,” Angel Dust said. “Yeah.”
Emotional openness having been successfully shut down, they settled back into their denial of their friendship like an old, worn coat.
“It’s just up here.” Angel Dust pointed as they rounded a block.
“It’s on 53rd?” Vaggie asked, stunned. “How the fuck is there a rehab place on 53rd?”
“I did say it was a pretty sweet deal,” Angel Dust said. “There ain’t no way this place is profitable. There’re like ten of us staying there. I’ve never seen anything like it. Miss Sparkles’s decisions makes Hell look fucking organised.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like, it ain’t even a proper rehab place. It’s something between rehab and homeless shelter and summer camp. It’s really funny. Charlie runs these bonding exercises to save our souls or something.”
“Might be a bit difficult in your case.”
“Oh no!” Angel Dust said, face distraught and eyes huge. “Will I not get into Heaven because I skipped out on the trust falls? I’m fucking devastated.”
“If this place is such a mess, how can it stay open?”
Angel took a long sip of his crime against nature. “It’s basically a one woman show. And Miss Sparkles is Charlie Magne.”
“Who?” Vaggie asked.
“You don’t ever pay attention to gossip, do ya?” Angel Dust asked as though describing a dire character flaw.
“No.”
“Well, the Magne family are loaded. Like camel through a needle, loaded. And when you have more money than God, you can just sorta do whatever you want and apparently what their dear daughter wants to do is help people.”
Vaggie considered this. “That’s… quite sweet really.”
“You would think that,” Angel Dust said, finishing his coffee. “Well, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, I guess.”
For being in such prime real estate, the hotel was remarkably run down. It was not falling apart or actively unpleasant, there was just something faded about it. It looked like a relic from a past era that had not been properly maintained. A museum piece that had been left in the back room too long and now no one could find the number for the caretaker. Worst of all, the carpet was puce.
“Heya, Huskie,” Angel Dust said, passing a custodian’s desk.
The man slumped behind it raised an eyebrow at Vaggie. “You’re bringing guests in again?”
“You gonna tell Charlie?” Angel Dust challenged him.
“Nah,” he said, giving Vaggie a piercing look. “She ain’t one of your clients. Charlie’ll be delighted at the idea of anyone coming to visit you.”
“I bring in plenty of visitors,” Angel Dust winked at Husk. “You could be one of ‘em.”
“That’s another no,” Husk said. “And I have gotta stop covering for your ass. Charlie has no idea what you use your room for.”
“I use it to sleep.” Angel Dust smiled.
“I ain’t even going to say anything to that,” Husk said, he turned to Vaggie. “You a friend of his?”
“We’ve known each other,” she grimaced, “too long.”
Husk barked a laugh. “Ha! I’ll drink to that. Well, go on then.”
“You’re a riot, Huskie-baby,” Angel Dust said, taking his key from him.
“Try not to lose this one,” Husk said, making Angel Dust laugh.
“But how else will I get anything from ya?”
“Angel,” Vaggie reminded him that they were there for a reason beyond flirting with a man in his fifties.
“Fine, fine,” Angel Dust straightened up. “You two are no fun.”
“First compliment you’ve given me,” Husk said as Angel Dust and Vaggie left.
Vaggie cracked a smile. “He is fun.”
“I’m wearing him down,” Angel Dust said confidently. “Just gimme a couple more months.”
“Your charm finally failing you?”
“Pffft, never.” Angel Dust ran a hand through his hair and gave Vaggie a cheeky wink. “Who could resist this?”
“Husk apparently,” Vaggie said.
Angel Dust spun around and opened his mouth for a snarky retort that was to never see the light of day as he was interrupted.
“Angel Dust, you’re back!”
This was called out by a blur of blonde and red. The woman ran down the stairs, stopping in front of Angel Dust and barely holding herself back from throwing her arms around you. “I was so worried about you!”
“Uh—”
“You were gone for so long and I didn’t know why and I know that you can look after yourself and you’re very busy but I just didn’t know what could have happened to you and I was so worried—”
“Calm down, princess,” Angel Dust said. “Look, I’m fine.”
“Really?” Charlie Magne said, eyes huge.
“Yeah, look, I’ve got all my arms and legs and shit. I’m fine.” Angel Dust gestured at himself.
“Right,” Charlie said and then drew herself up. “Right, well in that case, I have to remind you Angel Dust that it is Hotel policy that if you are taking a leave of longer than three days, you tell myself or Husk about it. Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re alright.”
“How long were you away from the Hotel?” Vaggie asked Angel Dust.
“Bout two weeks.”
This conversation drew Charlie’s attention to Vaggie. “Oh, wow, um, hello! Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Charlie—Charlie Magne. But you probably knew that already— or not! I shouldn’t presume. Um, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Yeah,” Vaggie said, giving her a smile.
“Are you a friend of Angel Dust’s?” Charlie asked.
“Can’t seem to be rid of him,” Vaggie said. “I’m Vaggie.”
“Well, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” Charlie shook Vaggie’s hand. Her hand was as warm and soft as candlelight. “You’re welcome to come by any time you like!”
“Oh, well,” Vaggie said, “I was actually just going with Angel Dust to pick up some stuff. I actually have a place to stay… Um.”
“That’s okay!” Charlie said. “While residents are the primary recipients of our resources and participate in activities, it’s not closed! You can come along any time you like. Flexibility is important because everyone has their own needs!”
“Oh, uh, that’s really cool.” Vaggie didn’t really know what to do with this bright, starry woman who was far less of an idiot than Angel Dust had made her out to be.
“If you’d like, we’ll be doing dinner in an hour and a half,” Charlie said. “I’m going to be cooking jambalaya and you’re free to come along.”
“Uhhhh.” Vaggie had somewhere forgotten how to operate her corporation’s mouth.
“It’s a family friend’s recipe and it’s really good!” Charlie reassured her, apparently totally misunderstanding the reason for Vaggie’s brain shutting down.
“Yeah, that, uh, that sounds good,” Vaggie managed.
Charlie gave a little clap of her hands. “That’s wonderful! Do let me know if you need anything else while you’re here! I’ll see you at dinner.”
And then hurricane Charlie left with a wave and spin of blonde hair.
Vaggie stared after her, her own hand still raised to give a responding wave. She shook herself and turned to where Angel was lounging against the wall. If he’d had access to his miracles, he would have undoubtedly summoned popcorn.
“Oh, don’t say anything,” Vaggie snapped.
“Did a word pass these lips?” Angel Dust ran a finger along his lips to emphasise his point while he leered at Vaggie.
“You don’t need to,” Vaggie muttered.
“You’re right!” Angel Dust said. “Body language says so much but I think you were the one speaking that language.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Angel Dust raised a hand to his forehead as though he was about to faint. “‘Oh wow, Charlie, you’re so sincere and good- not like all those other humans I have to put up with. Please ravish me.’”
“Where’s your room?” Vaggie said, doggedly ignoring him.
“What? You don’t want ta braid hair some more?”
“No,” Vaggie said. “This is serious—we don’t have time for any distractions!”
“Uh huh,” Angel Dust said. “I mean, I agree with you, Feathers but for once, I don’t think I’m the one that’ll need the nagging.”
Vaggie shook herself. “So, that’s why we’ve got to get your phone now.”
“Right, right.” Angel Dust opened the door right beside them.
“It was just right here?” Vaggie asked stunned.
“You were being funny,” Angel Dust said and led her inside.
Vaggie took one look down the hotel corridor before squaring her shoulders and walking into Angel Dust’s room. This was a crisis, she had no time to spend getting distracted. Not when the world could end at any minute.
The angel and the demon began their work of stopping Armageddon.
- Angel Dust had been incandescent with delight upon being dragged into a police holding cell, dressed in nothing but a sparkling tutu to see Vaggie inside, looking ready to blow her top with bruises on her knuckles while a cop reset his colleague’s nose. [ return ]
- What actually happened was, in the grand tradition of uninvested managers everywhere, Valentino forgot to mention the antichrist to Angel Dust. He also forgot to ask Angel Dust to do the spying Vox had specifically requested as a favour exchange. Valentino had been rather distracted enjoying his favour. [ return ]
- Untrue. Vaggie had not heard the funniest dick joke ever told, spoken by an old K’iche’ woman in 894 AD. Unfortunately, she died before the joke could be passed on to Angel Dust. [ return ]
- The barista was 38 year old man in the middle of a divorce with his wife who, after this interaction, would have to seriously reconsider some assumptions he’d had about himself. [ return ]