Chapter Text
Episode 1 Stuck in the middle with you
Chapter 1
The newly rebuilt Hazbin Hotel stood majestically overlooking the Pride Circle in Hell, its glitzy exterior a beacon of salvation to all of hells denizens who sought to escape their miserable existence through the path of redemption. The lobby doors burst open, shattering the serene picture, as several emaciated and battered sinners fled with all speed down the gravel driveway, as if pursued by the King of Hell himself. Perhaps that would have been preferable, as black coloured tentacles quietly closed the doors behind them.
Proving though much had changed, some things still remained the same.
“You couldn’t have done that earlier?” Husk growled at Alastor, picking over the remnants of the bar and wincing as his movements jarred one of his bent wings.
“Why, with all your recent battle experience, I thought I’d give you a sporting chance to prove you could handle it,” the radio demon explained, lounging back in the only completely intact arm chair that was left. The rest of the Hotel staff perched on what remained, looking just as battered.
“We were doing just fine until those reinforcements showed up,” Angel remarked. He’d managed to save his tommy guns, at the expense of two of his arms.
“Those weren’t reinforcements, they were after this,” Vaggie explained, indicating to her spear, “Sinners have already worked out the importance of angelic weapons, Carmilla must really be cornering the market right now.”
“I’m so so sorry,” Charlie apologized, looking mortified at her girlfriends’ wounds, as her exposed grey skin was covered in golden blood, “Between the weapon hunters and those drug dealers, I’m not doing such a good job of looking after this Hotel you all put so much work into.”
“Come now, it’s nothing that can’t be rectified,” Alastor chided, with a snap of his fingers. The shadows coalesced together, spewing forth his army of imps, once again bedecked in their builders’ guises. One burley imp winked at Angel as he went by, and the spider demon blew him a kiss.
The swirling black shadows finally dissipated to reveal the white clad form of the surgical demon. Unfortunately she wasn’t alone, but was in the middle of stitching a lizard demon’s chest cavity back together. She glanced up at the sudden impromptu audience to glare at Alastor.
“Do you mind?” she objected, gesturing with bloody gloves to her patient, who was peering around in bleary eyed confusion.
“Not at all,” the radio demon replied jovially, “As you can see, we require your expertise.”
Sighing under her surgical mask, with fiendishly quick movements she concentrated on completing the operation. The Hotel staff were either too preoccupied with their own injuries to pay any attention, or watched with morbid interest until she was done.
“The doors over there,” she said brusquely, tearing off her gloves, “Pay up, then leave.”
“Um, that’s not necessary, he can stay,” Charie offered, as she bathed Vaggie’s wounds with a damp cloth that was slowly turning gold.
“Not unless he has a Doctor’s fetish,” Angel said, after finally retrieving his two broken arms, “In which case, its cash up front as always.”
“Is that Angel Dust?” the patient inquired with interest, “I loved you in Horny Burglars 6.”
“My floors!”
Following the sudden outburst, Nifty was standing in the doorway, looking aghast and with rising anger at the myriad of new and various coloured stains that now soiled the plush carpet.
“Ah. He did it,” Angel improvised, pointing at the luckless John, who paused in confusion in the act of handing over his money.
Nifty pulled out her own knife and brandished it in the air, giggling maniacally. “Everything must be clean! Need to make it clean! Out!” she shrieked, chasing the terrified patient towards the entrance.
“Someone needs to have another word with her,” Husk said.
“I tried,” Angel said, “Nifty isn’t, coping well, with more guests frequenting the hotel.”
“He’ll be fine, intense cardio after major surgery is perfectly normal, everyone knows this,” Cindie assured them, retrieving her emergency Doctor’s bag that was kept stashed behind the bar, and assessed her patients with a smirk, “You do recall my services aren’t free, don’t you?”
“Weeelll, some of the newer guests are having trouble getting into the spirit of what the Hotel is all about,” Charlie explained sheepishly, “But I’m sure they will eventually!”
“This is the reason we need to set some rules for who stays at the Hotel,” Vaggie insisted.
“Nonsense, I can deal with any troublemakers,” Alastor declared, folding his hands behind his head. Suddenly he started coughing as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
“Alastor, you pushed yourself too hard again, didn’t you?” Charlie said, full of concern.
“I’m fine, Charlie, you don’t need to worry about me,” the radio demon insisted, wiping his red tinged mouth with a striped handkerchief.
The ex-exorcist and Husk exchanged a brief conspiratorial glance. As she was stitching up Vaggie’s forehead, the surgical demon noted the shared concern.
“You can examine Alastor next, right?” Charie asked anxiously.
“Hey, my arms,” Angel protested, looking outraged, “If I’m ordered back on set, the director will start filming whether I’m in one piece or not.”
“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” Cindie said, her gleaming talon’s delicately examining Husk’s bent wing, “I won’t let him bleed out before your eyes.”
“More’s the pity,” Husk muttered under his breath. With a crack his wing was popped back into place causing him to let out a yowl of pain. “Mother fucker!”
Angel winced as he realized his turn was coming up next. “Can’t we agree on a safe word first, Doc?”
“If you like,” the surgery demon conceded, advancing purposely towards him with a needle and thread, “But you’ll only be delaying the inevitable.”
“Here,” Husk handed one of the few intact bottles of alcohol to Angel, who downed it quickly.
Soon everyone was patched up, and the surgical demon supported Alastor’s arm across her shoulder. “To the radio tower, then.”
Charlie was biting her lower lip and frowning in concern when Vaggie found her wandering the corridors of the hotel. The ex-angel had noticed something had been troubling her girlfriend ever since they had expelled the troublemakers from the Hotel. She reached out and put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder in comfort, and a hand was placed on top of hers, drawing comfort from the simple touch.
“Do you really think we need to lay down some rules for the new guests?” the Princess asked, “I don’t want to turn anyone away in case they never come back. What if it’s their one chance to get saved?”
Vaggie really did admire her girlfriends sunny outlook to see the best in people, even if it sometimes made life more difficult. “But we also have a duty of care to our current guests and staff. And to cut down on medical bills.”
Charlie was thinking hard as she cupped her chin, “It’s like they don’t really understand what the Hotel is all about, why we stood up to the angels in the first place.”
“As long as we don’t have to film another commercial,” Vaggie flat out refused to go through all that hassle again, she didn’t want to owe any more favours.
Charlie’s expression brightened, “So instead of them coming to us, let’s go down into town and meet the people.”
Vaggie bit her lip in conflict, sure this may help sift through the genuine offers for redemption from those who just wanted to take advantage of their goodwill, but would she be able to keep her partner safe from all the crazies out there? Living in hell had not improved the ex-angel’s opinion of its inhabitants.
“Didn’t we already try recruiting that way?” she asked.
“This isn’t recruiting, the news broadcasts are already taking care of that. It’s more like, hmm, ah! Reconnaissance. Answering any questions people have,” Charlie explained, “This way, we’re bound to clear up any misunderstandings.”
Vaggie had her doubts, but she could see Charlie had her heart set on it.
“Okay, but tomorrow, after a restful nights sleep,” she insisted, touching her forehead and wincing in tenderness.
Her girlfriend kissed the newly stitched skin better, “I’ll tuck us both in.”
The Doctor wearily trudged through the chaotic streets back her clinic from the Hotel. There were taxis which the average sinner could take, but at their peril; run by unscrupulous types who would take advantage of their customers’ temporary imprisonment. So in the end, you’d still have the same distance to walk, except now dragging an extra corpse along the way.
But this gave her ample time to ruminate on her current situation.
“Run along, indeed,” she muttered furiously to herself, “You cocky, condescending, arrogant….”
“Hand over your wallet or I’ll gut you, bitch!”
Cindie barely looked up as her talons sliced through the air, shortly followed by an agonized scream and her white coat splattered with cherry red blood. The surgery demon bent over her would-be mugger, who was clutching at his dismembered stump in pain; she grinned as his eyes went round with fear. “Please do attend my clinic so I can reattach your limb. However, just for you, the price is doubled.”
She picked up the arm and continued with a spring in her step. But all too soon, the euphoria dissipated, and like a circular track her thoughts inevitably led back to her astounding recent lapse in judgement.
Cindie had gotten used to slipping away quietly after a call to the Hotel. It was easier than being bombarded by the inevitable questions. ‘Did she need any help? Why did the treatment have to be done in the radio tower? Why wasn’t it permanent? Why wasn’t Alastor any better?’
And of course, what had happened when she’d tried to explain? As per her contract, she was unable to discuss any of it. Not one word. So that just left lingering questions about her competency, which grated on her nerves with a persistence that was becoming quite aggravating. All that knowledge she had paid so dearly for, was now useless apart from keeping alive the last person in hell she wanted to heal.
Perfect pitch fucking irony.
The Doctor finally arrived at her haven and pushed open the door, determined to get the foul smelling, oily feel of magic off her hands. A loud crunch caused her to look down, to see her boot had stepped on what looked like a fancy flip phone. Had a client left it in their haste to leave? It wouldn’t be the first time.
Flipping it open, the cracked screen spluttered and flickered, but a message still managed to pop up. As she read it, a smile crept back upon the surgical demon’s face.
The next day, Cindie was escorted into what she assumed must be the ‘V’s entertaining suite. The words that came immediately to mind were modern, slick, opulent.
There was a well-stocked drinks cabinet, comfortable yet elegant furniture, high-definition wall mounted screens displaying popular products and TV shows. It was all designed to impress, to intimidate, and broadcast in stereo that you were dealing with a powerful and influential Overlord of Hell.
There was another word that sprang to mind, overcompensation.
“Welcome, my dear, so glad you accepted my invitation,” Vox’s voice was like a game show host, deep and refined, used to commanding and holding an audience’s attention.
Everything from his flat screened head to his expensive striped suit screamed modern business. Call it nostalgia, but Cindie missed the blocky old televisions and the flamboyantly loud style of the 80’s. But she supposed even hell had to move with the times.
“It was a pleasure to receive one. Frankly I was surprised someone as high as yourself even knew of my existence,” she replied with an identical sharp smile.
“Who doesn’t know of the plucky band of defenders who fought the angels and saved the citizens from extermination? It made great television!” Vox exclaimed.
Something about that felt slightly off to the surgical demon. Sure she had a plaque installed on her clinic door saying ‘By Royal Appointment’, because she was sure Charlie wouldn’t have the guts to object. But everyone knew? She dismissed it as sensationalist journalism.
“And yet I seem to be the only one invited here,” she pointed out.
Vox swiftly changed tactics without missing a beat, “I wanted to get an outsiders perspective. After all, my sources tell me you didn’t become associated with the Hotel until the day before the extermination.”
The surgical demons eyes narrowed fractionally. And how precisely would you know that?
She got the distinct impression of sharks slowly circling in the water around her.
Vox leaned in slightly, his left eye swirling, “You can trust me with what you really think.”
Ah bless the 80’s when hypnotism was all the rage. And the one thing it had taught Cindie was not to give your full attention to the spiral. Her eyes focused over his shoulder to one of the screens, advertising Vox voyerscopes.
“Well, when the Princess of Hell commands you to lend your aid, how can you refuse?” she explained, playing the staunch royalist card.
“Very easily I can assure you,” he replied with a wry chuckle, “Whilst very, earnest, the Princess tends to be more focused on high ideals. Whilst you and I are more people of business.”
Dear Lucifer this one likes to talk, she thought. As aggravating as Alastor could be, at least he gets to the point.
“Like you said, you have a business to run and I have patients waiting to be seen, so let’s hurry this along, shall we?” she prompted.
Vox’s expression briefly soured as his eye twitched and spiraled faster. Cindie found herself staring into it for a few seconds before shaking her head a little and resolutely focusing on his other normal eye.
The overlord dropped some of his oily demeanor, becoming colder, more business like, “Since the battle, even though you failed to save poor Sir Pentious, you’ve been seen leaving the Hotel very frequently. Been making house calls I presume?”
“His ship was atomized by an angelic beam, I’m good but not that good,” she retorted, partly wondering where he was going with this line of questioning, but mostly indignant at the skepticism of her skillset. She leaned in with the intent to put that disrespectful attitude in its place.
Into the television demons trap as he mirrored her movement, his eye spinning relentlessly as her vision filled with red and black circles.
“You were absent from the field for quite some time, I wonder what you were doing,” he mused. Cindie felt the room lurch and the sensation of falling….
…sinking into the black writhing shadows that suddenly covered the angelic blood drenched ground beneath her feet, explosions detonating all around. She tried to run, but the collar dug into her skin as the chain was pulled tight. She watched in helpless terror as the ground swallowed her up….
Cindie gasped as she broke free of that memory, silvery eyes wide and sweat beading on her forehead. She would not relive that first summoning again.
The rooms surroundings swam in hazy streaks of colour. Vox had walked closer and was standing over her, aiming to capture her gaze with that damned eye again.
“What were you doing?” he repeated. Her head was already fuzzy, and if she went under again…
“If I recall, that was when I saved the radio demon’s life,” she said, volunteering part of the truth whilst she still had the choice.
“I knew it! That smiling freak is still cooped up in the Hotel,” the television demon’s features flickered and glitched upon the screen. It helped to chase away the fogginess in her head as cognitive reasoning began to speed up once more. Wait, was that what this invitation had been about all along?
“I was hired to heal all members of the Hotel staff, so why wouldn’t I?” the surgical demon pointed out helpfully, whist gaining no small amount of satisfaction from throwing the overlord off his game.HHH
“It’s a shame I didn’t extend this invitation to you beforehand,” he muttered, almost to himself.
Cindie got the strong impression an offer would have been made to ‘make an exception’ for the radio demon. Then the odds were good Vox had no idea about their deal. And he really wasn’t as clever as he thought he was.
So why not keep him off his game, and have a little fun as well?
“I’m here now, what do you want to know?” she asked.
Vox had gotten himself somewhat under control and returned to lounge in his chair. Though he was regarding his guest with suspicion, the temptation to gain information on his old enemy was too great to pass up.
“How weak is he now?” he asked.
Cindie grinned, “Doctor/Patient Confidentiality, I’m afraid.”
Vox’s screen glitched once again in anger as he scowled, “No such thing exists in hell.”
The surgical demon spread her hands in apology and puzzlement, “That’s just how it works for me. I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to.”
Throughout her years in this rancid cesspool treating patients, she’d observed sinners often manifested quirks associated with their damnation once they arrived in hell. It was a useful lie to tell him.
“Has he made a deal with Charlie Morningstar?” he asked, though not with much confidence he would get a straight answer.
That question was…unexpected. It did make a certain kind of sense for an overlord to be deeply concerned about the power politics of hell. Thinking over all the interactions she had witnessed between Alastor and Charlie, and how close they seemed to be, if a deal hadn’t already been struck, then it was only a matter of time. The thought sent a chill down her spine.
“Not as far as I’m aware,” she said, “But I could find out.”
It was Vox’s turn to look surprised, but natural caution reasserted itself, “Forgive me for being skeptical, but I find it hard to believe you would sell out your own allies.”
“Business associates,” she corrected, “And I really couldn’t care less if a deal is struck or not. What matters is that you do.”
Instead of him glitching as expected, Vox let loose a deep chuckle as his natural confidence reasserted itself.
“I see you’re still new to the business game,” he said with a smile over interlocking fingers, “You’ve tipped your hand too obviously, my dear. When a deal seems too good to be true, it often is. Why would I trust you?”
His eye began to spin once again; not wanting to repeat her earlier mistake, Cindie quickly looked past it to another advertisement, ‘Reality TV presents Getting Even with your Enemies. Fun for the whole family!’
Her smile became tinged with bitterness, “Because I want to get even with that smiling bastard who made Princess Morningstar aware of my existence in the first place.”
That seemed to fill Vox with glee to hear someone else talk about Alastor with distaste and especially about wanting petty retaliation.
“It sounds like your association with Royalty hasn’t been as rewarding as initially promised,” he observed.
“Oh, it’s had its advantages for sure, but it has really disrupted my schedule,” she confessed, then decided some further clarification was needed, “Though this is only for information. I’m not about to roleplay at this redemption nonsense.”
“Perish the thought. Well, this has been a productive meeting, I’m so glad we could come to an agreement,” he said, holding out his hand.
‘Do we have a deal…..’
Cindie stepped back with a polite smile, “I don’t shake hands, old surgeon habits die hard, I’m afraid.”
“Of course, but I’m putting a great deal of faith in you, my dear Doctor,” he pointed out.
Cindie looked him straight in the eye. “You can trust me.”