Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I'll miss the newsroom, the smell of printer's ink, the deadline for the weekly report... the money to bribe the annoying old secretary at the bank across the street. But... that damned brat has far too much power... we barely survived an attack on our janitor... take a photo of this tragedy, OK?"

With a heavy sigh, Dylan Moore passed the small, aging camera to his assistant, while a hot breeze blew through one of the already destroyed windows of the newspaper office, making it clear once again that you don't need winter clothes or a thick coat in hell... not even for sentimental moments.

For years, Dylan ran the small newsroom, publishing an article once a week with the latest happenings in hell. He had always stayed under the radar of the more influential demons, never cared about having a large reach and wanted to pursue the work that he enjoyed when he was alive on earth and that ultimately landed him in hell.

As a human, Dylan wrote for a major magazine in New York City. He had become power-hungry, wanted to have the success of his colleagues who had often landed on the front page with their exciting stories. He created false headlines, changed facts and the thirst for recognition and the thrill of a story making waves finally drove him to commit murder and arrange the pieces of the puzzle in such a way that an innocent man ended up in prison.

Dylan had never felt remorse, after that event, more false stories came, Dylan had been able to work his way up... before he fell far too far. A policeman had pushed him out of the window after a confrontation... it had been his death sentence and his beginning in hell. Many decades had passed since then. The very small editorial team had once had another journalist, who was unfortunately killed in the second-to-last extermination. Now it was just Dylan and his assistant.

A quiet rustling and clattering made Dylan look up from all the wonderful reports that the deceased journalist had written and published and that he was thinking about, and bring him back to the here and now.

"Not like that, damn it?! You have to hold the camera away from your body! You haven't learned anything in all these years!"

Dylan groaned in annoyance and took the camera back from his assistant to demonstrate to her again , how precisely she had to hold the small device.

"First align it and then press the button. It's absolutely simple and....Amelia, are you actually listening to me!"

Dylan paused in his explanations of how much this camera meant to him and that it...like so much else in the small editorial office, came from another century...because Amelia didn't listen to him, she didn't even look at him and then knelt on the dusty floor, folded her small hands together and let out a quiet growl.

It was a warning signal from the girl , who had fallen victim to a horrific experiment so many decades ago and had ended up in hell for trying to defend herself.

One of her tasks was to protect Dylan...even though Dylan himself had never asked for it, Amelia had an amazing instinct to hear enemies who didn't mean well for Dylan.

In this case, it was the voice of none other than Velvette , who had just finished a live stream and was talking about how social media was better than any old newspaper.

"Hide, Lia! Now!" -  Dylan hissed at the demon who didn't even reach his waist.

Amelia looked up at him abruptly and sulked dissatisfied, but then stood up and climbed onto one of the old wooden beams and hid in the semi-darkness on the shelf of the old, huge cupboard.

There she could help Dylan if necessary... and keep an eye on the situation.

It took less than three seconds , before Velvette pushed open the half-open door and, chewing gum, let her gaze wander disparagingly around the room.

"Oh my devil -  you're still here!? Voxy wants to use the old shop as another office or something, so... you better get out of here quickly! Or the next attack will hit your ugly, 10-year-old jacket!" - Velvette had pulled out her cell phone and was typing something on the screen, she didn't even bother to speak the threat in Dylan's face.

"Is it called something different? OMG? And..."

"No demon says OMG, where do you live?! Oh my devil sounds better anyway... but it's no wonder you don't know something like that... as old as this... stupid newspaper!",  Velvette laughed maliciously and Dylan just raised his camera a little without saying a word.

"Call me a sentimental old owl...but this office is...close to my heart...after this I'm leaving...no reason...to get Mr. Vox", Dylan just grumbled and Velvette gave him a look that meant something like - you're so fucking cringe!

Then she disappeared, not without provocatively throwing down an old vase that was on a small table near the desk.

The clatter made her malicious grin grow wider and you could already hear her talking on the phone in the hallway.

Dylan still caught a few scraps of words before Velvette left the building.

"...ready to dismantle the office into its individual parts!"

With a quiet curse at the influential overlords, Dylan finally snapped the photo himself and reached for the magic feather that had given him so many reports and worked with a little magic on his part.

It was one of the few things Dylan wanted to take with him...followed by Amelia, of course.

"Let's go, Lia. If the rumors about the Hazbin Hotel are true...we can stay there", Dylan called in the direction of the closet before taking the door to the hallway of the building.

Amelia climbed down from the cupboard and took one last look at her workplace.

The former experiment had spent all those years here, making coffee for Dylan or getting into tricky situations to get an exciting story for the weekly newspaper.

She had lived in the shadows since her arrival in hell and was so inconspicuous , that it was perfect for Dylan to take her undercover with him on reporting missions.

The demon knew how much her boss was attached to the editorial office.

But times are changing.

Hardly anyone listens to the radio anymore... TV and social media were now modern.

But there was something fascinating about old things.

Her gaze slid to the old hat stand.

There hung a gray hat with a single red rose and a skull close together.

Amelia grabbed the hat and stuffed it into her small shoulder bag , before following Dylan out into the streets.

"I'm not going to attempt rehabilitation of my dark soul...but hotels are fucking cheap! It seems Princess Morningstar needs every guest....or wicked Soul i guess?"-  Dylan muttered as he closed the front door to the building behind him.

"Hotel safe? No Stranger-Danger?" Amelia said cautiously.

Dylan nodded thoughtfully.

"I hope...if not, we'll somehow get through it...like always," Dylan tried to dispel Lia's concerns.

"Dylan not alone",  Lia claimed and jumped onto the small suitcase , that Dylan had brought outside with him.

"Thank you not any longer Lia...it's best to go into the suitcase...if this stupid scientist is in hell too, I want to know that you're safe this time", Dylan asked and after Lia jumped down from the suitcase, the editor opened it and fished out a half-broken little necklace with a pendant in the shape of a butterfly on it.

It belonged to Amelia and enabled her to communicate in complete sentences when she wore it.

She hadn't always been so limited; it has to do with her death and her arrival in hell.

When she wears this necklace, she can formulate several sentences in a row.

"Put it on, it could help us", Dylan added, and the power of the collar and the pendant would... certainly be helpful... even if the demon planned to keep Lia hidden for the time being... to save money on a room and to have peace and quiet.

Some of the inhabitants of hell were child-friendly... it got on his nerves,  when he wanted to have peace and quiet and Amelia also kept a low profile , when it came to attention.

She didn't trust new faces so quickly.

The suitcase was closed and the duo made their way to the Hazbin Hotel.

But Dylan didn't get far.

At a crossroads, some of the souls he had told a few fake stories to over the past decades, thus ruining their reputation and name, recognized him.

"There's the asshole!"

"Hey Dylan! We still have a word to talk with you!"

"Stop, you fucking Bitch!"

Dylan tried to disappear.....but his angry victims surrounded him, kicked his suitcase away and beat the demon until he lay on the floor in pain....they kicked him until he became unconscious and the inhabitants of hell,  took his suitcase with them.

So Dylan did not see how Amelia was taken away  - trapped in the suitcase.

The darkness enveloped Dylan and he did not noticed,  how the princess of hell scoured the streets to look for injured souls and souls in need of help after the day of extermination.....and she found Dylan and decided to give him accommodation in the Hazbin Hotel.

So it was that one day later, when Dylan opened his eyes in horror and looked into the broad, grinning, friendly face of Charlotte Morningstar.

Chapter Text

"Oh great, you're awake! Hi, I'm Charlie and I found you in the alley. You looked pretty... beaten up and I couldn't just walk past? I took you to my hotel and tended to your wounds... whoever did this to you broke your nose - not a nice thing," said the Princess of Hell in a cheerful, chatty tone and very quickly one after the other.

Dylan slid a little further towards the head of the bed in which he had woken up and looked at the adults bubbling with positive energy for a moment. Had his nose been broken? The sinner automatically ran his hand over his left nostril, but there was nothing there. Could he remember something exactly? Didn't he want to go... right here?

"The Hazbin Hotel?" Dylan replied with a dry throat. He didn't respond to the previous information. It was nothing unusual to have to expect beatings or fights...or even death in hell. It wasn't a nice place. He was just trying to make his existence a little more pleasant. But...if he really made it to the Hazbin Hotel...part of his plan had been carried out.

"Yeah, exactly. It's so great that you heard about my hotel! You know, here sinners, the inhabitants of hell, can find a super-duper new environment, make friends and...", Charlie was about to give a whole presentation about her dream of the Hazbin Hotel, but Dylan interrupted her in the middle of the sentence. He had no interest in hearing more details. His head hurt as he tried to remember...what had happened.

"Wonderful, that's exactly where I wanted to go... I think... if you give me some time and let me rest a little longer, Miss Morningstar, can I... remember for sure?", said Dylan, letting his head sink back into the pillow and closing his eyes for a moment.

"Oh Charlie is enough, I bet we'll be good friends in a few days. Your name is Dylan, right? You had a blood-smeared name tag on your jacket when I found you," said Charlie, grinning and holding out his hand. How could someone have so much euphoria and... positive energy? And then also the desire to drag a beaten sinner home?

"Yes... my name is Dylan...", said Dylan, accepting the handshake, albeit with suspicion. There were so many question marks in his mind. Charlie let go of his hand after a few moments and promised to introduce him to all the other hotel residents and employees later when he was feeling a little better. Then she left him alone and Dylan fell into a short sleep.

A sleep in which he dreamed about what had happened. About the people who had beaten him up, who had been pissed off about his machinations and tricks... in his dream he saw Velvette sticking a piece of chewing gum under the old wooden table in the editorial office before Mr. Vox had all the old furniture set on fire. It was a confusing dream and when he felt the kicks and punches coming out of nowhere so realistically, he woke up again.

Dylan didn't really feel rested. He turned over on his other side and tried to go back to sleep... his body told him that he still needed some rest. Even if he wanted to remember what had happened to him... if there was a big gap that needed to be filled. Something wasn't right... something seemed to be missing? But even the next few hours of restless rest and sleep were not to bring him any answers.

Towards the evening, Dylan could no longer stand being in the hotel room, he got out of bed and grabbed the clothes that had been laid out - with the logo and lettering of the Hazbin Hotel - well, it was better than nothing, Dylan thought to himself and changed. It was nice of the Princess of Hell not to leave him in his blood-stained clothes, but he didn't want to imagine what...or who had changed him. Not that it was of any importance.

Dylan walked from his hotel room along one of the corridors, somewhat aimlessly. The Princess of Hell had at least offered to introduce him when he was better...and she did, right?

"So much dirt! I hate dirt!"

A female voice nearby and the sound of a broom on the floor made Dylan pause. A few moments later, a very small lady came around the corner with a broom in her hand and seemed to be doing some cleaning.

But she seemed to notice the guest, turned to Dylan and looked at him with a wide, devilish grin.

"You're the new guest! Why did you get beaten up? Are you a bad boy?!" - suddenly the little lady was very close to Dylan and very pushy.

"Um... I... hmm... looking for...", Dylan stuttered, a little overwhelmed, and saw Charlie coming around the corner.

"Niffty - you've already met our new guest, there's Dylan and I was just about to check on him to introduce him to the other hotel residents. Why don't you go and clean Dylan's room?" Charlie said kindly to Niffty.

The one-eyed demon gave a deep, mysterious giggle and then let go of Dylan to enter the room armed with a broom and clean it.

"Don't worry, we're 80 percent sure that Niffty is harmless. Ready to meet the others, Dylan?"

Dylan just nodded and then walked next to Charlie down the corridor to a large staircase that led down to the entrance hall and announced the following words with joy.

"Hey everyone! I'd like to introduce you to our newest guest. This is Dylan!"

The former newspaper editor noticed several pairs of eyes on him. And he didn't feel uneasy. Not yet. After all, there wouldn't be any great source of danger in a hotel with such abysmal beds and fully booked rooms...or would there?

Charlie took the trouble to introduce Dylan to everyone present in the entrance area.

Starting with Vaggie, who only managed a brief hello and eyed the new arrival skeptically.

Husk was cleaning one of the glasses and eyed Dylan with a rather indifferent expression.

"Vaggie and Husk are really talkative once you get to know them," Charlie said in a whisper and led Dylan on to a young spider-man who was sitting on one of the couches and was just putting on some make-up.

"This is Angel and....."

"And Angel is a little late for Work. Actually already halfway out - celebrities are always late you know!", the demon interrupted the princess of hell and gave Dylan a quick smile before turning back to the small hand mirror.

Dylan found the man's one golden tooth fascinating.

"But we wanted to do a storytelling round, Angel, without you it's only half as fun," said Charlie with a pleading undertone.

"When did we agree to this storytelling round?", came it from Husk, who had grabbed the next glass to clean.

"Since we had our first guest  - with the final destination of rehabilitation, Folks!" -  Charlie reminded her friends of the mission they seemed to be pursuing.

But the reaction of Angel, Husk and Vaggie was rather reserved.

Hardly motivated.

Dylan could hardly blame them.

Storytelling rounds sounded so... like school... or group work.

A short discussion broke out between the friends, which Dylan spent a few steps away and took a closer look at the furnishings in the entrance hall.

His gaze caught on an old suitcase and a sudden bout of goosebumps overcame him, causing him to stumble backwards and almost collide with someone who had suddenly appeared behind him.

"Frightened? Or just feeling guilty?"

Dylan froze in his tracks for a moment , when he realized... who was standing there.

The radio demon.

Shit.

Every damned inhabitant of hell knew his name. Alastor.

And if Dylan hadn't been so shocked and speechless to see him standing in front of him....live and in person, he would certainly have complimented the demon,  about the radio show, which seven years ago,  was one of the formats that Dylan liked to listen to on a stressful day.

But shit!

The sole presence of the radio demon,  was so creepy and frightening.

Stories had been heard...rumors...but it was hard to deny that he was a very powerful inhabitant of hell.

"Um...more like...a realization...Mr. Alastor...Sir...I'm a big fan of your radio show by the way and...", Dylan became nervous and the fact that the demon tilted his head a little and looked at him intently didn't make it any better.

"Alastor - you've already met our newest guest! How great. This is Dylan", Charlie's intervention caused Alastor to draw his attention to her for a moment and Dylan could only nod, sort out his thoughts and concentrate on what he had realized.

"Charlie? Did I have a suitcase with me , in the alley where I was knocked unconscious?", Dylan said to the princess of hell in a slightly more worried voice.

"A suitcase... a suitcase? Let me think for a minute... no, I don't think there was anything there", said Charlie after a few moments.

"Fuck! Oh... that's not good!", grumbled Dylan and sat down into the next chair in shock and anger.

"Uh, our newest guest can swear - nice! When I come back tomorrow, I can teach you even more bad words! I bet you parrot demons learn quickly", said Angel in a sexy voice tune and then made his way to leave the hotel.

Dylan didn't have time to wonder , about the...behavior of the man named Angel, Alastor took a closer look at him and especially his reaction.

Which in turn made Dylan very nervous.

And this nervousness also seemed to make Vaggie come closer.

"Why so nervous? Was there money in the suitcase? Drugs? Weapons?"  - Vaggie asked directly.

"Not exactly...my assistant was responsible for the suitcase and...she wanted to move into the hotel with me...she is... a little shy and I hope nothing happened to her", said Dylan, covering his face with his hands.

Amelia had been his assistant for so many decades.

If anything had happened to her, he couldn't guarantee anything.

She was like a crazy little sister to him, and he had failed to protect her...even though Amelia had proven several times in the past,  that she could do it herself and that she shouldn't be underestimated.

"Oh, I'm sorry for you, Dylan. But she'll definitely find you, what's her Name?" -  Charlie asked sensitively.

"Amelia. Her name is Amelia", Dylan said without removing his hands from his face.

Perhaps to hide his worry and thus a weak spot.

Showing weakness was a dangerous game in hell.

Almost as dangerous as playing with fire.

Or like making a deal with a demon.

Chapter Text

The journalist spent the next few hours in the entrance area of ​​the Hazbin Hotel.

Charlie had been kind enough to hand him the latest copy of a magazine from a major publisher and again gave him encouraging words, saying that his assistant would be there soon and that Charlie was very excited to meet Amelia.

Dylan appreciated the hotel owner's genuinely kind words, but they did not lessen his concern. Even a glance at the magazine did not help Dylan to calm his thoughts.

"Did you end up in hell because you committed horrible crimes?"

Dylan was just about to open the next page of the magazine when the maid Niffty pushed herself into Dylan's field of vision and, like when they first met, barely kept her distance. Curiosity and interest were in her eyes and the journalist noticed the small feather duster in the demon's right hand.

"I would only call it horrible crimes to a certain extent..." -  Dylan replied slowly and put his magazine to one side. The current article is about a new TV series that will soon be shown on Voxflix... something that is unlikely to hold his interest for long. The technological advances and all the gadgets may be nice, but just like in life, he has a penchant for older things.

"Oh? Tell me about it!" said Niffty with a broad grin. It wasn't the typical grin you could imagine, more of a mischievous one.

But why should Dylan share his reasons for spending eternal torment in hell with the maid? He barely knew her and he could count on one hand which inhabitants of hell already knew the reasons that didn't get him to heaven.

"I bet it was something evil," - giggled Niffty and jumped onto the couch next to Dylan to stare at him.

"You end up in hell for sins and offenses. It doesn't even have to be the seven deadly sins... wrong assessments can also take you to this place... misjudgments or even misunderstandings. I had that feeling with Amelia from the start," - 

Dylan sighed and reached for the closed newspaper again, trying to ignore Niffty's curious look and the questions that followed.

"Were you a couple? You talk about her as if you liked her!"

Dylan sighed and the parrot demon closed his eyes for a moment. Too bad, he thought if he ignored Niffty she would get bored and leave soon. Wrong thought.

"No, she was my assistant, we weren't in a relationship... never," - Dylan said coolly and turned to the next page.

"She...is like a little sister to me. Someone who can protect and defend herself well and yet still manages to drive me crazy with her ignorance in this situation," - Dylan grumbled and repeatedly tapped the carpet with his right claw.

It made him nervous not knowing what was wrong with Amelia. Or whether she hadn't died in the suitcase long ago.

With a scratch of his right foot claw over the carpet and a little too much pressure, Dylan ripped a piece out.

"Hey! The carpet isn't included in the accommodation fee!" - came it  from Husk, who had been watching the conversation between Dylan and Niffty from the bar.

"I wasn't planning on keeping it!"-  Dylan grumbled, finally pressed the small piece of carpet into Niffty's hand and grabbed his newspaper , to find another place to think and read.

The parrot journalist would hardly be able to avoid the get-to-know-you session,  that Charlie had announced that evening. Because the Princess of Hell was very careful to control attendance.

The evening ended slowly and tediously.

Even though Dylan had tried to retreat to the roof of the hotel and literally perched on a metal beam like a chicken on a perch, Charlie was so motivated to keep up the round of introductions that he followed her into the hotel lobby.

Only to expect hardly any reaction or story. At least on this point, Dylan was not to be disappointed. Because even though Charlie had told very imaginative stories about her childhood and the dream of her Hazbin hotel, Husk and Vaggie had been rather taciturn and silent.

Angel was still at his job and Alastor had holed himself up in his tower to plan his next radio show. So Dylan had roughly reported a few details about his old job.

How much he had loved working as a journalist and owner of the small business.

This round of introductions ended with Vaggie wanting to do another round to check the security of the hotel in front of and inside the premises and Husk going back behind the bar.

When asked if the new guy, aka Dylan, could use another drink, Dylan just flapped his two wings once and shook his head.

"I'm not that desperate to need a drink on the first night...or the company of a bartender in a bad mood" - 

Dylan said quietly and was the first person to disappear to his room. Even though a drink would certainly have helped him sleep.

In the middle of the night, Dylan woke up because he thought he heard a banging noise.

Followed by Vaggie's cursing voice echoing down the hallway.

"...it's 4:00 a.m., what kind of burglar would steal a packet of flour from the  fucking kitchen?"

Chapter Text

"Niffty? Found anything? Something useful?" - Vaggie was standing in the middle of the large hotel kitchen armed with her lock and Niffty in her floor-length nightgown was just returning from the adjacent pantry.

The little cyclops had discovered signs of a break-in during a not-quite-midnight snack after midnight. And a small trace of flour, which in turn led to the realization that the burglar had stolen a sack of flour.

"Apart from knocked over cans and flour, which I can sweep away later, there are no traces," said Niffty and folded her arms in front of her chest. She did not seem to be looking forward to cleaning up this chaos that she had not caused in the coming hours.

"You'll manage it Niffty, nobody is as good at cleaning and clearing up chaos as you," replied Vaggie with a tired yawn as Niffty made her way back to her hotel room with an amused giggle. Vaggie, on the other hand, followed the path of the spilled flour once again.

It led from the pantry, through the kitchen and ended in smaller flour traces in front of the locked entrance door of the Hazbin Hotel. Almost as if the sack of flour had walked out with the thief.

"Huh... what is that?" - Vaggie was already investigating this mystery after a few hours of sleep when her eyes saw something small and glittering flash at the window to the right of the front door. Something that didn't quite fit the picture and made Vaggie come closer. Her fingers reached for the object, which turned out to be an old keychain. A clearly outdated keychain in the shape of a record player, with a corner broken off and dried blood visible in some places.

"I wonder if the burglar lost it?" -  Vaggie wondered and decided to keep the key chain for now and ask the hotel residents and staff about it... because it didn't match the demons and sinners who came and went in the Hazbin Hotel.

Maybe Alastor... but the radio demon didn't need a key and wouldn't bother with a key chain, Vaggie thought, and unfortunately there were no clues on the key chain. She didn't care that a sack of flour had gone missing or that Niffty had a little bit of chaos to clean up... if there was a security problem, that gap had to be found and fixed.

And as quickly as possible.

Dylan had quickly fallen back to sleep after cursing all night.

Fortunately, Vaggie's scolding voice had quickly disappeared from the hallway where the former editor had his hotel room. Everyday life in the Hazbin Hotel quickly seemed to follow a pattern, as the parrot sinner noticed. Charlie had daily exercises to do a bit of team building with the hotel staff and guests and to advertise the hotel.

The grumpy bartender Husk also always shows up for his shift on time. This made Dylan wonder whether the cat demon was staying in the hotel or had an apartment outside. The maid Niffty would definitely know about it, but Dylan tried to keep his distance from the cyclops lady. Not because he was afraid of her, it was more because Niffty could talk a lot without stopping and in a way that took some getting used to, which became a bit too much for the former editor in the long run.

".....and with your knowledge of the journalism industry, how would you like it if you wrote a little magazine for the hotel? Like a weekly report?" - Charlie had intercepted Dylan on the way out, Dylan was actually on his way into town, he wanted to do some shopping...in case his little assistant came back at some point.

He wanted to get her favorite chocolate and not give up hope. Which is why Charlie surprised me by asking me to write a weekly article for the Hazbin Hotel, almost as an in-house newspaper.

"I'm very honored by this compliment, Charlie, but I don't think it's the best idea to start writing again," Dylan replied, straightening the jacket he had thrown on with a fluid gesture.

"But you write wonderfully! Niffty gave me an old edition she found this morning. You wrote so profoundly about the extermination 5 years ago and it really touched me. You could help the hotel a lot," Charlie wondered.

"Let's just say there's a reason why I had to give up my editorial work and I don't want to have any unnecessary trouble with the Vee's. Especially not with Vox," Dylan said thoughtfully.

"As if anyone would put this sulky TV demon can take seriously. There are far more threatening Overlords", Alastor chimed amusedly, who had just walked through the hotel's entrance hall and overheard the conversation.

"If Vox sends his people to intimidate my journalists and take away my livelihood, I find that threatening... if I start writing now and the Vee's get wind of it...", Dylan shook his head and ran his right hand thoughtfully over his beak.

"How amusing, our newest guest is afraid of an oversensitive TV sinner and his lapdogs,"  - Alastor laughed amusedly and seemed not to want to understand the extent of Dylan's destroyed existence.

"We took you in here, Alastor..."  - came quietly from Vaggie, who had finished her little tour of the strange keychain.

"How was that, dear?" - came quietly from Alastor, who only turned briefly to Vaggie.

"I like it here! So many vermin just waiting to be killed" -  giggled Niffty, waving the feather duster in her hand once demonstratively.

"Anyway... I'm going to go into town and run some errands" -  Dylan cleared his throat, wanting to escape the situation.

"You can think about it again, please? Alastor can surely get you one of those old-fashioned typewriters?"  - Charlie asked him hopefully.

The word typewriter made Dylan pause.

He had hardly brought anything with him from the old editorial office, he had had to leave the building quickly. He had loved his old typewriter so much.

"Well then, I will...", said Dylan and wanted to continue on his way out of the hotel, but when KeeKee suddenly let out a threatening hiss from the place by the fireplace and a rumbling noise came from the stairwell, the parrot stopped. Charlie, Niffty, Vaggie, Alastor and Husk were also surprised by the cat's reaction.

"It seems as if KeeKee can hear your burglar from last night,"  - murmured Husk.

"Maybe he's coming to get his keychain?"  - Charlie guessed naively.

"What kind of burglar loses a keychain?" -  Dylan exclaimed in surprise and when Vaggie with a clinking sound, he pulled out the broken record player keychain decorated with blood stains.

"I hadn't asked you yet, Dylan, does this tell you...", Vaggie began and Dylan flapped his right and left wings up and down a little.

"Yes, it... wait...", -  Dylan looked from the keychain to the angry cat Keekee, who had now jumped down from the seat by the fireplace and was rubbing against Charlie's legs , in an almost protective manner.

Then the parrot demon listened in the direction of the stairs , from which the rumbling noise was still coming.

Dylan let out a quiet chirping-whistling sound and looked tensely in the direction of the hallway that led to the stairwell.

"BURGLAR!" - Niffty exclaimed in alarm and pulled out one of her large sewing needles and before anyone could have prevented it, the cyclops shot forward.

At that very moment, something small, with flour on its hands and shoes, also shot around the corner and crashed head-on into Niffty, which ended up with both of them landing on the ground and a sound of hissing, growling and a whining noise.

"Amelia!" Dylan exclaimed in surprise.

Chapter Text

The Demon Sinner's undead heart stopped for a brief moment. Of course, it continued beating, and it took the parrot a moment to realize what exactly was happening. And Dylan was quite convinced he was right in his assumption...at least regarding the attack on Niffty, and he flapped his wings twice. His keen hearing had picked up the small nuances of Amelia's communication, and the call of her name made Amelia pause for a moment...pause mid-attack on Niffty, her right ear twitching alertly.

Then she completely aborted her attempt to attack Niffty, who was fully in combat stance and in attack mode, and ran towards Dylan on all fours. The fact that she left small flour stains on the ground didn't bother Amelia. The former experiment—now in the form of a demonic lynx child—seemed relieved to see that Dylan, the parrot demon, was okay. She slowed down just before the former journalist's claws and then circled him carefully, circling him and letting out a low growl. Not a malicious growl like the one she'd just let out when Niffty almost attacked, it was a...are you okay...are you hurt...do you need defense...that kind of...friendly reassurance kind of growl.

"You know that...flour-lynx creature?" Charlie asked uncertainly, not quite sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing...that this creature ran around Dylan like a small cat.

"I'd be more interested in why it's covered in flour, huh?" Alastor asked sarcastically.

"Wait, flour...shit, that creature is the thief who broke in last night!" Vaggie cursed loudly, pointing her spear once in Dylan's direction.

The parrot demon cleared his throat once; there was no reason for such a dramatic situation. There is no danger whatsoever, neither for the residents of the Hazbin Hotel...nor for the Princess of Hell. His little assistant was a former experiment...but she wouldn't give those present any reason to worry...or to attack. If no one came up with the idea, they would attack the former journalist. Amelia could be very aggressive and protective when attacking the people she cared about...the list of people was very small...and so far, only Dylan's name was on it...the parrot demon could be imagining something.

"Her name is Amelia. And she won't give you any reason to worry. As I already mentioned, she's my assistant and...there's no reason to point the spear at us, Vaggie," Dylan spoke calmly, making a reassuring hand gesture.

"Hard to believe...she gained unauthorized access to the hotel and managed to get away again," Vaggie growled, and Charlie placed a reassuring hand on her partner's shoulder.

"We'll handle it, Vaggie. If Dylan says his assistant shouldn't be a reason for attack or a threat to the hotel...we should try to be friendly," Charlie said hopefully.

"Um, she tried to attack Niffty, so...no idea if that counts as safe?" Husk mumbled, frowning as Amelia stopped making small circles on all fours around Dylan and instead shifted her focus to Husk.

"Lia not attacked...but Lia can!" Amelia said, baring her teeth once to make a small leap toward Husk - but before she could attempt this, Dylan grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

He bent down a bit so his beak was near her left ear so Amelia could hear her clearly.

"The Hazbin Hotel is mine...our sanctuary. We're guests and shouldn't give its residents any reason to distrust us. They won't hurt me, Lia..." Dylan whispered, and Amelia squirmed slightly under his grip and let out a soft sigh...before nodding and, after Dylan loosened his grip, lowering herself to the parrot demon's claws.

"Please explain to those present how you got into the hotel and what the flour has to do with all this," Dylan asked her.

"I'd be very interested to know, too. I doubt burglars want to bake cakes," Vaggie said grumpily. She probably had the greatest doubts about Amelia's sudden presence.

"You were responsible for the mess and the mess!" Niffty gasped, and Amelia blinked innocently. But then answered as Dylan had asked.

"Lia was looking for... Dylan... hungry... kitchen... fell down... flour... By... By," Amelia said, as if that explained everything.

"What happened when we parted ways, Amelia?" she asked.

Dylan, but Amelia's focus was on something else...her left ear twitched as Razzle and Dazzle witnessed the chaotic little scene.

And now Razzle and Dazzle were in protective mode, and Amelia was chased through the lobby and found refuge under a bed in an empty hotel room. From where she didn't emerge for a while.

Vaggie eyed this new guest with suspicion and told Dylan to watch out for his...assistant.

But there was something else Vaggie couldn't figure out...why did she think she detected angel essence components after Amelia had fled...how extremely strange.

Chapter Text

"...what's with Amelia's...particular way of speaking? Isn't one well-paid as a journalist's assistant with one's own office?"

Vaggie had spent the past few days keeping a close eye on the newest residents of the Hazbin Hotel. Her gut feeling and the trained eye that recognizes the angelic DNA—something only angels can see in other angels—had been at work. And every day, Vaggie was forced to endure the trust exercises that Charlie used to foster a sense of belonging among the guests—exercises that required the fallen angel to spend more time with Dylan and Amelia—and which made it clearer whose angelic sequence clung to Amelia.

Sera.

What was going on inside the person who raised more questions about the security of the Hazbin Hotel? What was an angel in sinner form doing here? Was she a spy, sent down on behalf of Adam or Lute to revel in Vaggie's suffering after her extermination three years prior? Something about Amelia and the Engels sequence DNA trace made Vaggie even more suspicious than usual. Which is why she confronted Dylan directly about it.

Dylan shook his feathers once and looked up from the newspaper in his hands. The former journalist followed the events of Hell both on TV and in the tried-and-true medium and enjoyed holding something familiar in his hands... he'd be lying if he said he didn't terribly miss his old job. And Dylan, who had spent decades interviewing demons, Hellborns, and celebrities in the Pride Ring... recognized the heightened suspicion in Vaggie's eyes.

Dylan shook his feathers once and looked up from the newspaper in his hands. "Believe me, Vaggie, that kind of language isn't my doing. Amelia...already came to me in this state...she's an extremely loyal assistant," Dylan said mysteriously, not wanting to reveal too much. After all, he was just a guest at the Hazbin Hotel with no real intention of giving the concept a chance...or of believing that sinners go to heaven if they do better than committing their sin. He had only seen the hotel as a backup plan...since his old job was no longer an option. It gnawed at him like a rat on cheese that he could no longer work as a journalist...but now knowing Amelia was safe and back by his side was...good.

"What exactly do you mean? A little more information would be helpful. In case you forgot, I'm responsible for the hotel's security and..."

Dylan let out a soft babble and shook his head once.

"It's not up to me, Amelia's a demon with many...secrets," Dylan said, giving Vaggie a long look...the protective glint of a big brother wanting to shield his little sister flashed in his eyes.

"Ooooooh, how about you and Dylan participate in our next trust exercise with Amelia? That way we can get to know each other better, and you can get to know us better! Sir Pentious is participating too!" Charlie called out enthusiastically as he passed by, and Dylan closed his eyes and sighed.

"I've certainly heard that this snake has also moved into the hotel...but trust exercises...I don't know," Dylan muttered. He trusted very few people...and he didn't want a real basis for a conversation with the snake, the scientist, and his strange eggs either.

"I've heard that this snake has also moved into the hotel...but trust exercises...I don't know," Dylan muttered. He trusted very few people...and he didn't want a real basis for a conversation with the snake, the scientist, and his strange eggs either."

``` "You two made it through the introductions just fine. Share your dark, dirty secrets with us!" Angel Dust laughed, amused, and Husk shook his head, turning back to his glasses and his bar.

"And what good would that do us? Amelia will still hide under the bed whenever Razzle and Dazzle are around... she's..."

"I swear, if you say 'nice and sweet' to Dylan!"

"Agreeable... once you gain her trust... Lynxes are shy, but they don't hesitate to strike back..."

Niffty chuckled in the background and then sent Dylan into a brief moment of panic with the following sentence:

"...oh, then Amelia had better not attack Alastor, because he wanted to talk to her and is on his way to her room!"