Chapter Text
**"RING-RING-RING!"**
"Hold on, I'm coming!" Charlie hurried down the stairs, her steps echoing through the house. She picked up the phone with a mix of curiosity and irritation. "Who is it?"
"Hello, darling!" The voice on the other end was unmistakable, filled with authority and a hint of sarcasm. It was her father—Lucifer, the King of Hell himself.
Charlie sighed. "Dad, what is it? You only call when you need something."
"Listen, sweetheart, I really don't have time for this right now." Lucifer was speaking quickly, and he sounded a little unsettled, which was rare. "I had a meeting scheduled at the embassy today, but there's been a change... and the representative there is someone I'd rather avoid." His tone grew more serious as he spoke.
Charlie frowned. "Avoid? Who is it? Someone important?
"That’s not important!" Lucifer snapped impatiently. "Let’s just say it’s someone from the past, someone I don’t have a... good relationship with."
Charlie blinked, confused. "Okay, but what does that have to do with me?"
"I need you to go in my place. Represent Hell, be civilized, say something intelligent if necessary." He paused before adding more seriously, "And please, just... don’t ask too many questions while you're there. Just listen, observe, and don’t sign anything, understood?"
"Wait, what? Sign what? You're talking like I’m going to negotiate with monsters!"
"It’s not exactly that..." Lucifer murmured, as if deciding how much to reveal. "Trust me, darling. It’ll be simple. Oh, and one more thing: please, avoid any mention of fruit—specifically apples! Now, I have to go!"
Before Charlie could protest, the line went dead.
"Strange..." she muttered, frowning as she stared at the phone. Her father’s behavior was unusual, to say the least. But before she could lose herself in thought, a bright idea lit up her mind.
She looked out the window, her eyes shining like stars.
"If I go there... maybe I can get support for my hotel!" she exclaimed, excitement lacing her voice as a confident smile spread across her lips. "This could be my chance to prove redemption is possible and stop the exterminations for good!" she thought, swept up in her hopeful illusion, unaware of how naïve she truly was.
The exterminations were events that terrified all of Hell’s inhabitants. Once a year, angels descended armed with divine weapons capable of killing demons, slaughtering any sinners they found in their path. Only those born in Hell weren’t direct targets, but if they happened to be in the crossfire, they were killed mercilessly.
Charlie had always hated these events. Watching so many souls being erased awakened a deep sense of pity and helplessness within her. This was the feeling that inspired the creation of the Hazbin Hotel—a place where repentant sinners could find refuge, seek redemption, and, perhaps, ascend to Heaven someday.
It was a grand and noble project, though many considered it impossible. Still, Charlie had already found an ally: Alastor, the Radio Demon. A powerful figure who had mysteriously disappeared for seven years, only to reappear recently and surprisingly offer his help toward Charlie’s dream.
While his presence brought a mix of relief and unease, Charlie believed Alastor truly saw something valuable in her project. And now, with this new opportunity, she felt the hotel could finally gain the support it desperately needed.
Another thing that always disturbed Charlie about the exterminations was the discomfort and strangeness she felt every time she witnessed them. From her house, she couldn’t ignore the carnage in the streets—or, above all, the figure in the sky. Without fail, she noticed a large dark figure (or so it seemed, as colors were hard to discern at a distance) watching the devastation from above.
This figure never joined the slaughter. It merely hovered, flying from one spot to another as if carefully analyzing everything happening below. When the chaos finally ended, the figure would turn toward the castle where Charlie lived and seemed to stare directly at her—or so she thought.
Charlie remembered one specific instance when she thought she glimpsed a golden, almost platinum glow in the figure’s eyes. But she was never certain, as the entity would vanish behind the portals through which the exorcists returned to Heaven.
"Who is that?" she often wondered, her discomfort giving way to an avalanche of questions. "Do they not like participating in the exterminations? Or could they be someone who leads the exorcists?"
Whenever she tried asking her father about it, he would evade the subject, brushing it off as if it were an annoyance or a secret he preferred to keep buried. This only fueled Charlie’s curiosity and unease.
Without hesitation, Charlie felt her determination solidify, pushing aside any shadows of nervousness or doubt. This could be the start of something monumental, and she wouldn’t waste this golden opportunity.
Charlie quickly stood up from her chair and raced to her room. Time was against her, and the event was today—it couldn’t be postponed. When would she get a chance like this again? Her steps echoed through the house as she ran up the stairs, her heart pounding with nervous anticipation. The Hazbin Hotel could be exactly what she needed to make a difference in Hell, and this meeting represented a unique opportunity.
Up in her room, she rummaged through her desk, gathering her papers filled with sketches and notes. These drawings were crucial to explaining her vision for the hotel—a vision of redemption, a place where souls could be saved. She wanted to make it clear that the hotel wasn’t just a refuge; it was a chance for true change. As she clutched the papers, a chill of anxiety ran through her, but she couldn’t afford to doubt herself now.
"I have to get this right," she whispered to herself, taking a deep breath before rushing back downstairs.
As she passed through the living room, she nearly collided with Alastor. The Radio Demon stood there, smiling as always with his unique charm, but Charlie was so focused on her mission that she barely noticed his presence.
"Good morning, Char—"
She breezed past him without even looking, her pace never faltering. Alastor’s surprise was evident, but as always, he merely offered an enigmatic smile, shrugging as he turned toward the bar.
Angel, Husk, and Nifty were at the bar, chatting as usual. Husk had his back turned, playing cards, while Angel cracked jokes. Nifty was darting around, cleaning frantically as if unable to stay still for more than a second. None of them seemed to notice Charlie’s urgency, though she had far bigger things on her mind. Alastor smiled and joined their conversation.
"Looks like our dear hotel owner is a bit more animated than usual today. Could something important be happening?" he mused to himself while listening to Husk and Angel bicker.
Charlie ran through the infernal streets, ignoring the chaos around her as if it were just another ordinary day. Every corner seemed like a new nightmare. She bumped into a hooded demon who, upon passing, let out a malicious laugh and accidentally dropped a bag of sparkling dust that fell onto her face. The demon stared at her with a vicious smile.
"Hey, sweetheart, want to try some?"
Charlie just blinked, without responding, and kept moving forward, not losing her stride. Hell, with all its chaotic mess, seemed like a blend of a carnival nightmare and an eternal '80s party.
She brushed past another hooded figure with a lit cigarette, exhaling a thick smoke that seemed to come alive, attempting to choke her.
"Hey, watch where you're going!" the man shouted, but Charlie didn’t even stop to respond. The smoke lingered behind her, floating in grotesque shapes as if it wanted to chase her.
Next, Charlie passed a group of demon smokers arguing about which cigarette gave the most "power." She was nearly run over by a rowdy demon tossing cans and bottles in his path, shouting about how demons were misunderstood and needed "more rights." He was closely followed by a trio of communists and Nazis arguing about politics, alongside a corrupt politician with a cigar in his mouth, trying to sell promises of Hell's "infrastructure" to the others.
"Ugh, what a… charming place," Charlie muttered to herself, dodging a politician who tried to hand her a flyer while saying, "Vote for my party, and you'll get benefits… after the apocalypse!"
As she turned a corner, Charlie came face to face with an open window. Inside, a couple was in a… rather intimate scene, but with a distinctly "out-of-the-ordinary" twist (with chains, whips, and intense screams). The sound of indignant yelling followed.
"Ah, stop! That’s not how it’s done! I said no!" the woman screamed, while the man beside her was trapped in handcuffs, struggling to free himself from the situation, but to no avail.
Charlie did her best to look the other way and keep walking, feeling secondhand embarrassment while also relieved not to be part of that scenario.
"I need a coffee after this," she thought, her mind already far from the disturbing sight.
And the chaos didn’t stop there. She crossed a street full of cannibals laughing about how they were grilling some souls, also debating which piece of meat was the juiciest. One of them waved a leg toward Charlie and said, "Want a quick snack?" She shook her head, quickening her pace.
The air was thick with smoke from demon smokers, brawlers were throwing rocks at corrupt politicians, and everywhere were endless debates. Nazis argued over how to "reform" Hell while communists passionately debated nearby about "redistributing the flames." The scene was so nonsensical and absurd that Charlie almost burst into laughter, but time wasn’t on her side.
"Not today, Hell! Not today!" she muttered to herself as if she could shut out all the chaos around her.
Finally, after dodging a politician who threw a baseball bat to his security assistant, Charlie arrived at the embassy. She paused for a moment, surprised. The contrast was almost surreal. While Hell’s streets were filled with every imaginable atrocity and noise, the embassy seemed like an oasis of peace and silence.
The building was utterly different from anything she had seen so far—walls as white as snow with a soft, celestial glow. Light seemed to emanate from within the building itself, so pure and immaculate it was almost blinding. There was no stench of decay or smoke, just a calm so alien it felt out of place in the infernal chaos.
This was the only place in Hell where communication with Heaven could occur, and as Charlie knew very well, it was the only place her father, Lucifer, had access to "negotiate" with celestial beings.
As she approached, her thoughts drifted back to the scene at the bar and the conversation about the Hazbin Hotel. The bright and peaceful embassy seemed like a world apart from her mission. Here, things would be different. She would have to put on her best face and try to be professional—a challenging task for someone raised amid Hell’s chaos.
Taking a deep breath, Charlie adjusted the papers in her hands and prepared to enter what felt like an entirely different arena.
Charlie climbed the embassy stairs, her footsteps echoing through the silent, dim corridor. At the end of the hall, she hesitated in front of the double doors, anxiety gripping her. She stretched out her hand and knocked on the wood, her heart beating faster. The knock seemed to dissolve into the air without echo, as if the very environment absorbed the sound.
She waited a few seconds, but there was no response. She knocked again, harder this time.
Nothing. The silence was unsettling.
Frowning, she looked around, her discomfort growing. Something felt off. With a strange sense of foreboding, she grabbed the door handle and turned it. The door opened with a soft creak, revealing what lay beyond.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" Her voice was hesitant, echoing into the emptiness. She pushed the door open slowly, tension gripping her. What she saw on the other side made her stop in her tracks.
The room was dark, lit only by a faint light that seemed to come from an invisible source, casting shadows on the walls. In the center, a large wooden table dominated the space, and seated at its head, as if waiting for her, was an imposing figure.
Charlie swallowed hard. She recognized him instantly. It was him. The figure she always saw observing the exterminations, hovering in the sky like a silent and menacing presence. But now, seeing him up close, she couldn’t control the wave of fear that washed over her. He was even more terrifying than she had imagined.
The figure was colossal, about three meters tall, making him even more intimidating. His gray, feathered cloak seemed to absorb the light around him. The feathers of his wings, as wide as an eagle’s, were adorned with intricate patterns of gray, white, and black, as if the very night had woven itself into them.
His face was pale with fine features, but the most striking part was his thick goatee that extended to his neck—a neck also covered in dark hair, as if darkness itself had sprouted there. His disordered black hair fell messily, but the most unsettling were the curved horns that emerged from his forehead, seemingly part of his essence, not mere decoration. The crown atop his head wasn’t a simple halo but something more, emanating a silver light tinged with gold, almost reflecting an eternal pain.
Charlie couldn’t tear her eyes away. He looked like a fusion of several creatures: an owl, an eagle, a goat, and a human, all combined in a grotesque and unsettling way. His presence was overwhelming.
But worst of all, what truly made her tremble inside, was his expression. His silver, almost golden eyes showed no emotion. No anger, no joy, no sadness. Just an absolute void, as if life had drained from him long ago.The deep circles under his eyes indicated that he hadn't slept in a long, long time. The emptiness on his face gave the impression that he was eternally tired, a soul worn out by existence itself.
For a moment, Charlie froze, unsure of what to do. The figure before her was more than terrifying—it was as if he embodied death itself, immune to time and pain.
The room seemed to close in around her as he stared directly at her, without moving a muscle. The seconds dragged on, the tension almost visible. The silence was oppressive. He didn’t utter a word. He simply watched her, as if waiting for her to make the next move, as if testing her courage, her endurance.
Charlie swallowed hard, her heart racing, but she forced herself not to look away. She had to do something, yet his presence was so overwhelming that every word felt like a risk.
The being remained still, his silvery eyes glowing with an unusual intensity, as though he was reading every thought crossing her mind. Time seemed to stretch as silence filled the room. Charlie could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears, yet she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him.
For a moment, nothing happened. He just stared at her, his expression empty and impassive, as though he was waiting—perhaps for a reaction, or perhaps an answer. The tension in the room was palpable, the air around her feeling heavier, making each breath a challenge.
Then, suddenly, there was a subtle shift in his face. His eyes, which had been unreadable until now, blinked slightly, and something strange appeared within them. A shadow. A shadow of... disappointment?
Charlie frowned, struggling to comprehend what was happening. The change in his expression was brief but unmistakable. A chill ran down her spine, as if this being—this terrifying creature—was... disappointed in her.
But why? What had she done? What could she have possibly done to provoke such a reaction?
After a long pause, the figure finally spoke, his voice deep and resonant:
"You must be... Charlie Morningstar, am I right?"
To be continue...