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EXT. PENTAGRAM CITY - LATE AFTERNOON
XLS OF A DINGY, GARBAGE-STREWN STREET, LOOKING DOWN FROM ROOF-LEVEL.
FAVOR ON:
A PALE FIGURE enters frame from below, walking down the street. His head is BOWED, scrolling on his HELLPHONE, heedless of the EYES that turn to WATCH HIM as he goes.
DESCEND INTO CONTINUOUS TRACKING SHOT FROM BEHIND.
ANGEL DUST smokes a CIGARETTE while he walks, STEPPING OVER a BUM passed out with their legs obstructing the sidewalk. He is wearing a PINK CROPPED SWEATER with a heart-shaped cut-out and HIGH-WAISTED BLACK SHORTS, boots CLICKING sharply.
ANGEL STOPS at the end of the block and LEANS against a TELEPHONE POLE, now visibly texting. When his cigarette depletes he PITCHES IT into a PILE OF LITTER and FROWNS at his phone for a long moment, then reaches into his CHEST FLUFF for another.
FAVOR ON:
There are SEVERAL DEMONS peering out of an ALLEYWAY frame-right. They WITHDRAW when Angel looks over his shoulder while lighting the second cigarette. He BLINKS at the empty alley, then SHRUGS and TURNS AWAY to keep fiddling with his phone.
Behind his bangs he is SMIRKING.
CUT TO:
CU OF BLACK COWBOY BOOTS STEPPING ONTO THE STREET, PANNING UP TO FACE-LEVEL.
SPURS JINGLE as a Sinner that looks like a SENTIENT TUMBLEWEED GROWING OUT OF A CORPSE emerges from the alley and begins to APPROACH. They are quickly flanked by A HALF-DOZEN FIGURES, all of them PACKING IRON.
Angel doesn't look up again until the group is a FEW METERS away. He raises an EYEBROW, scans the SPURRED SINNER from head to foot, then flashes a TOOTHY SMILE.
ANGEL
Ooh, you boys out lookin' for trouble?
(sultry)
Ain't that funny? So am I.HENCHMAN #1
Youse waitin' on somebody, sweetheart?ANGEL
(purring)
Maybe you, bright-eyes.SPURRED DEMON
Sorry, fella. We're the ones gettin' paid tonight.
(shifts stance, thorns crackling)
Reckon I don't gotta ask if we found the right guy.
Angel CROSSES HIS LOWER ARMS and cocks his weight on one hip, cigarette SMOLDERING between his teeth.
ANGEL
I'm real hard to miss.
(exhaling smoke)
Just a contractor, huh? You gettin' compensated right fa this?SPURRED DEMON
(in a terrible Mexican accent)
No hard feelin's, ameego. Just beez-niss.
(removing two sets of zip-ties from his belt)
Shoulda stuck with the Vees 'stead'a goin' indie, I guess. I ain't got nuthin' against faggots, but money's good from folk who does.ANGEL
(unimpressed)
Well, I was gonna take that under consideration when I beat your ass, but suddenly I just don't fuckin' feel like it.SPURRED DEMON
Don't be stupid. The bounty's so big I rounded up a twenty-man team, you ain't got nowhere to run.
(producing a phone in his other hand)
And my gal says she saw your big, bad boyfriend hit up a smokeshop all the way across town. He ain't gonna hear you scream if you make us handle this the hard way.
OTHER THUGS are appearing on all sides. A LARGE, GHOULISH WOMAN lifts an ABSURDLY LARGE CHAINSAW GRAFTED to her ARM. AN OCTOPUS DEMON wearing a BOWLER HAT clutches a BRASS KNUCKLE at the end of every tentacle. A pair of CONJOINED TWINS wield an SMG and a MACHETE, respectively.
ANGEL
(scornful, amused)
Honey, you chuds ain't got a clue what you're gettin' yaself into.SPURRED DEMON
Yeah, go on yappin'. We'll see what he does when he knows his new sugar baby catches Carmine steel if he tries anything crazy.
(raises zip ties, spinning a finger)
G'wan and turn around, now.ANGEL
Cute how you think he's the only one you gotta worry about.
(turns, crosses two sets of wrists and pushes out his ass)
Like ~this~, Daddy?
Angel ALLOWS the first zip tie to be secured, binding his PRIMARY ARMS behind his back, but when the TUMBLEWEED LESHY takes hold of the secondary pair the tension among the crowd SNAPS like a strand of sinew and EXPLODES INTO ULTRAVIOLENCE without warning.
Angel everts his THIRD SET of arms and YANKS the other demon close enough to wrap those secondary arms around his hips and steal the HANDGUN from his holster. He shoots his abductor's FOOT first - then backs himself abruptly into the demon's thorny bulk and takes them BOTH TO THE GROUND in order to jackknife his legs and SLIP THEM OVER his bound arms, bringing them to the FRONT. He SPITS his LIT CIGARETTE into the dry foliage around the leshy's HEAD, and what happens next goes like this:
The wiseguy HENCHMAN who started speaking first is closest to the scuffle with a SAWED-OFF SHOTGUN half-raised, and Angel's jumping-spider legs fire like PISTONS at the joints, LAUNCHING HIM over and into the bulk of the rhino-minotaur's body. He GRABS THE HORN like a POLE, and CENTRIFUGAL FORCE carries him 180 DEGREES AROUND to use his target's body as a MEAT SHIELD.
The minotaur is IMMEDIATELY SHOT multiple times by the OTHER HENCHMEN, and he ROARS, trying to SHAKE THE GRAPPLE that Angel has him in. He has looped his bound hands OVER the demon's HEAD and is using the ZIP TIE as a GARROTE. Angel's SECONDARY HANDS deal death with devastating accuracy, and the LAST SHOTS IN THE CLIP all go POINT BLANK into the minotaur's SPINE before Angel LETS HIM DROP and abandons the PISTOL for his dropped SHOTGUN.
ANGEL
Hope you mooks're into scat, 'cause you're about ta eat shit!
Angel's secondary hands PUMP the shotgun and FIRE into the CHAINSAW WOMAN'S CHEST. A 10-FOOT VERTICAL LEAP adheres him to a graffiti-stained fire escape TWO STOREYS UP, then HORIZONTALLY to a BRICK WALL opposite. GUNSHOTS follow him, peppering surfaces in his wake, but none fire fast enough to keep up with that HEXAPEDAL SKITTERING.
The SPURRED DEMON is now ACTIVELY ON FIRE in the background, desperately ROLLING in a PUDDLE OF FILTH backed up in a CLOGGED STORM DRAIN. Angel's FIRST cigarette has also IGNITED A TRASH FIRE now spreading onto the sidewalk. Under the RUCKUS of combat, someone is WHISTLING JAUNTILY over a block away.
Angel has RIPPED OFF the zip-tie with his FANGS and is now ABSOLUTELY DOMINATING the conjoined Sinners. The LEFT TWIN has already emptied his SMG and FAILS TO RELOAD before Angel has him in an ARMBAR. The hold breaks when the RIGHT TWIN swings his MACHETE and HACKS OFF HIS BROTHER'S HAND by mistake.
LEFT TWIN
GAWDAMMIT, CLEM! This is why Mama shoulda ABORTED YOU if'n she had the chance!CLEM
That woulda 'borted you too, Cletus, ya dumb summinabitch-CLETUS
WATCH what you say 'bout my-ANGEL
Oooooh, family drama! Bettah gimme that thing b'fore ya put an eye out, too.
Angel BASHES CLEM IN THE FACE with the butt of HENCHMAN #1's SHOTGUN. When he SWAPS it for the MACHETE, he SWINGS IT DOWN HARD into the JUNCTION where the twins' SKULLS CONJOIN and EMBEDS IT THROUGH THE BONE, spurting a STRIPE OF BLOOD across his grinning mouth.
The EXTINGUISHED LESHY has ASSESSED THE SITUATION and decided that the WHOLE OPERATION IS FUCKED. When he turns to FLEE while Angel is occupied, several HENCHPEOPLE join him, SCATTERING LIKE RATS in all directions.
Suddenly, the shadows at the HUNGRY MOUTH of every alley EXPLODE into WRITHING KELP FORESTS of BLACK TENTACLES. A Sinner shaped like a ONE-EYED DARUMA DOLL is snatched off a ROOFTOP and THROWN AGAINST A WALL so hard the CERAMIC POWDERIZES, scattering a RED AND GOLD MOSAIC across the sidewalk below.
There is no avenue of escape. The LASHING TENDRILS don't reach beyond the exits they block, but they let NO ONE THROUGH. THEN, the LONE FIGURE permitted to pass the gauntlet emerges into view.
THE RADIO DEMON has arrived.
ALASTOR is spiffily-dressed in a STRIPED PINK-AND-WHITE TAILCOAT and MAROON SLACKS with a CHRYSANTHEMUM threaded through his buttonhole. He addresses Angel with a PERKY SMILE that RADIATES MALEVOLENCE.
THE RADIO DEMON
They're so p r e d i c t a b l e, aren't they?ANGEL
One born every minute, babe.
(grinning, panting)
You walk around with an ass like t h i s out long enough, somebody's gonna try somethin' dumb.ALASTOR
Oh, I'm sure dear Charlotte will roundly scold us for going looking for trouble, but it isn't as though she can argue you were asking for it, hm?
(wilting in dramatic lamentation)
It was still their own ill-advised choice in the end! To let them shirk accountability would be failing to honor our boundaries!AMPHIBIOUS HENCHMAN
It was a TRAP! (gesturing at the octopus) FUCKIN'-A, Spurs, I TOLD you we shouldn't'a let Paulie's fuck-up cousin be the lookout!
PAULIE makes a series of flatulent noises with his siphon, pushing the bowler hat forward on his head and raising four brass knuckles in a pugilist's pose.
AMPH. HENCHMAN
Oh yeah? Well, 'cuz she couldn't stop sucking pufferfish long enough to watch the damn RADIO DEMON your ass is boudda be GOD DAMN CALAMARI!ALASTOR
(gaily) Don't fret, ladies and gentlemen! There will be no magic tricks, munchies, or fantabulous shape-shifting tonight! We plan to play perfectly fair.
(now sinister, summoning a KNIFE)
It's been so long since I did things the old-fashioned way...ANGEL
You are so fucking hot, baby.ALASTOR
(wide-eyed and G R I N N I N G)
Shall we begin?ANGEL
Hit it, sugar.
The Radio Demon SNAPS HIS FINGERS, and the MUSIC starts.
BRASS and WOODWINDS lend a SWINGY GROOVE that POPPING SYNTHS playfully twirl into something MODERN AND NEW. When Alastor and Angel move it's like LINDY decided to put a little HIP- in her HOP, and the WHOLE WORLD becomes their stage.
HORIZONTAL SHOT OPENS WIDE VIEW OF THE REMAINING MERCENARIES.
They are STILL TRAPPED - ROUTED, DISORGANIZED, but many are now choosing to FIGHT - for under dire enough circumstances, even a worm will turn.
As the instrumental verse rises toward the first chorus, Alastor summons a BLACK BASEBALL BAT wrapped in PINK RAZOR MESH and tosses it to Angel with a jaunty, There you are, my dear! Angel CATCHES IT one-handed and arcs into a JAW-SHATTERING SWING that catches a KAPPA DEMON right below the ear and BASHES THE MANDIBLE TO SHARDS like a FABERGE EGG.
The smoldering trash has turned into a DUMPSTER FIRE, belching BLACK, ACRID SMOKE into the air as rubber and plastics burn. A CYCLOPS with an ENORMOUS GREEN MOHAWK has backed too close to the SMOKESCREEN, and she does not see THE EYES glowing behind her. She makes a confused GRUNT when something STRIKES HER IN THE BACK and LOOKS DOWN.
OVER AN INCH of STAINLESS STEEL has punched through the front of her LEATHER JACKET, and her white BAND TEE is quickly blooming RED. Her attacker is too close to use her METAL PIPE or PADLOCK AND CHAIN, and when the blade is RIPPED FREE she drops to her knees and is GRABBED by her mohawk, then DECAPITATED with SICKENING EFFICIENCY.
THE RADIO DEMON raises the severed head over his own and lets the BLOOD GOUTING from its NECK run down his OPEN, THIRSTING THROAT, then tosses it aside and BOUNDS into battle on NIMBLE, UNSHOD HOOVES. Any vertical surface steeper than 91 degrees is sufficient for those CLOVEN TOES to find purchase, and there is no deer who cannot jump in excess of TWO METERS FROM A STANDSTILL.
The mercenaries brought PLENTY OF BULLETS, but NOT ENOUGH to hit either mark while on the move. And as they move CLOSER to each other, those MOVES are becoming a DANCE.
Their HANDS JOIN. The instrumental verse gives way to SONG, and ANGEL'S VOICE comes first, high and sweet as a seraph, and tenfold more true.
ANGEL
Nevah even knew that there could be a love that makes loving safe, /
That doesn't feel like bein' alone, /
It's a way to a-tone, guess you could say /
I just thought that hurt and heart-ache was the price that you pay. //
(kick turn into swing-out, grinning like a fool)
But then you come around, and you make me mattdder, /
Show me I can be a f r e a k and still keep what we have. /
I'll be bad, I'll be better! /
I'mma do it all, babe, 'cause I ain't no scarlet letter. //
Alastor SUGAR PUSHES Angel into a bouncy PROMENADE, then escalates with SUDDEN VIGOR as an armed THUG approaches. He twirls Angel into grooving back-to-front, then interlinks their arms and HEAVES Angel into a CHARLESTON FLIP. Using Alastor's broad shoulders as a POMMEL HORSE, he VAULTS to land seated on the enemy's instead and LOCKS his THIGHS around their NECK for a savage TWIST.
Angel lands on his STOMACH and BODY SLIDES into a COBRA COIL, lifted by Alastor into a KNICKERBOCKER SWING crossways over his arm, which INVERTS Angel over another foe to SWING HIS BAT with a SKULL-CAVING CRACK on dismount.
ALASTOR
Marvelous, Angel!
(singing through laughter)
Darling, I'm tongue-tied, dazzled by you like the sunrise I can-ni-bal-eyes /
Mystified, drunk on liquor-colored skies, o-o-oh~ //
(carries Angel over into sidecar cradle and spins, singing broad and free)
My dear, I feel like a god each time I'm with you - /
This pull like gra-vi-ty! /
It's all but insane, the fact that I found you, here /
In Charlotte's fantasy! //
Heaven might be divine, but she needs allies who will sta-aay~ /
And if it's got to be us, just know that I /
Will be there by your side. //
A brief instrumental interlude eases them into ROCK STEP, twisting to BUMP THEIR HIPS while GIGGLING like infatuated schoolboys. Then PAULIE is upon them, slinging WEIGHTED TENTACLES and GRAPPLING with others, and a MANIC ESCALATION throws the music back into FRENZY.
Alastor TOSSES Angel into a DUCK AND DIVE and HURLS HIMSELF KNIFE-FIRST into the core of WRITHING, SUCKERED LIMBS, tanking the blows to THRUST the blade right into the cephalopod's GNASHING BEAK.
Paulie is now SO FOCUSED on BEATING The Radio Demon with his BRASS KNUCKLES that he doesn't spare a thought for what's BEHIND him, and when Angel BASHES HIS SQUISHY HEAD with his bat the razor mesh SHREDS THE SKIN TO RIBBONS.
ANOTHER blow, ANOTHER, an ever-deepening TWIST OF THE KNIFE, and it is now FAR TOO LATE to flee. Alastor has been RELEASED from Paulie's grapple, the octopoid SPEWING BLUE BLOOD and RAPIDLY CHANGING COLOR to blend with the brick and cement. He INKS all over the sidewalk in a last-ditch effort to escape, but Alastor JAMS his knife COMPLETELY THROUGH the GELATINOUS HEAD and PINS it down to be RUPTURED LIKE A MUCOSY PIÑATA under Angel's UNRELENTING SAVAGERY.
And the song continues.
ANGEL
Oh-oh-oh-oh, /
Letting go, letting go /
Ain't so ha-ard, once you kno-ow /
Life's got some stakes, and you got what it takes /
'cause you don't gotta go it a-lone! //
Don't gotta beg, not gonna borrow, /
'cause now I got somethin' to live for tomorrow~ //
Alastor's BROADCAST is OVERFLOWING WITH PRIDE, an ENTIRE BRASS BAND backing Angel's vocals as they frolic, PAINTING THE STREET with viscera such that Jackson Pollock would STROKE OUT ON SIGHT.
ANGEL
(choking on joy)
Baby, I feel like I'm God whenevah I touch you, /
You pull like gravity. /
It's fuckin' insane I finally I found you, in /
This fucked-up family. //
So big whoop, Heaven's divine, our girl needs someone who can stay, /
And if it's gonna be us, ya know that I /
Will be here by your siii-i-i-iiii-iide~! //(orchestral swell, singing in alternation)
BOTH
Sweetheart, I can hardly speak, /
When I got you next to me, /
And I love you, /
Yeah, I love you, /
Oh, my dear, I L O V E you~! //
The second instrumental sweeps across the field of battle, and Alastor likewise sweeps Angel into a SCISSOR LIFT, bracing him with a knee around Alastor's NECK to free ALL FOUR ARMS for EGREGIOUS VIOLENCE while being spun. SPURS is the VERY LAST to fall, VAULTED by the back of his jacket into the FLAMING DUMPSTER and left to SCREAM like a BOILING CRAWDAD.
Then a gentleness. Rivers and ribbons of gumdrop gore, cherry cream blood clots and rock candy bone fragments under a cinnamon-hot sky. Alastor and Angel twirl hand-in-hand, and all ten eyes between them never leave the other's face.
ANGEL
(softening)
'Cause sometimes I'm bad, and sometimes I'm bettah, /
And you ain't got sick of me. /
And even when we both got stormy weather /
We'll know where to be, just singin' /
Why we love each other, 'n why we love what we do. /
Singin' what we love about us, and what I love about you... //
Alastor MELTS, drawing near to PUSH UP ON HIS TOES and nuzzle Angel's chin - then EXPLODES into ONE LAST VERSE.
ALASTOR
(with EXALTATION)
Cotton-candy crucifixions, out of a fiction too good be true, /
Something new, this sweet thing between me and you. //
(in taffy-sweet countertenor)
Oh, but I get butterflies each time that I'm near you, /
Drawn in by gravity. /
I'm out of my b r a i n now that I've found you - /
This tastes like destiny! //
Fuck Heaven's designs, our belle needs friends she knows will STAY. /
And since it's going to be us, just know that I /
Am staying by your side... //
He sweeps Angel AROUND-THE-BLOCK into a flashy REVERSE-CRADLE, then lowers him into a PRINCESS DIP, with Angel's legs kicked prettily up over Alastor's back. They rest this way with their foreheads pressed together, starry-eyed as they nuzzle nose-to-snout.
PULL OUT FROM CUDDLY CLOSE-UP TO REVEAL GORE-SPLATTERED SURROUNDINGS.
Both dancers are DRENCHED in BLOOD - dripping from Angel's BANGS, LASHED across Alastor's FACE and JACKET, in a puddle under Alastor's FEET. The two are PANTING, GIGGLY, ensconced in a whirl of MUTUAL EUPHORIA amid a FIELD OF DEATH.
Angel pulls a POCKET HEATER out of his cleavage and fires ONE SHOT into a fleeing STRAGGLER over Alastor's shoulder, prompting a SCREAM followed by a wet, fleshy SLAP, then silence.
FIN.
"Twenty-man team, my ass," Angel scoffed, idly checking the chamber of his gun. "That was, what, thirteen?"
"Fourteen," Alastor purred. There had, of course, been the unfortunate cephalopod sent to tail him whilst picking up Angel's dispensary order. Had been. "But it's never ill-advised to fudge one's numbers a tad, if Sun Tzu is to be believed!"
"Well, Sun-sue me if I ain't a little disappointed." Angel gave his primary eyes an extravagant roll, then stepped back from their embrace to take in the slaughterfield. "Someday we'll pull a real ballroom blitz. Ain't got through anybody's head yet that this highschool shit's not gonna cut it with me."
"It would be nice to have to try for a change," Alastor echoed him wistfully. He snared a set of Angel's fingers with his own and slid them palm in bloody palm, swaying until they stood arm to arm, thigh to thigh. Rolling his head back on a cartilage-cracking axis, he sighed, "But it's been a bracing date nevertheless! You look ravishing in red."
"It's gettin' t'be my favorite color," his beau replied, peeking down at him sidelong and flashing his gold tooth. "But yer a real cutie in pink, yaself."
Alastor seemed to dissociate for a moment, lost in the blood-limned daze of his darling's beauty under the pentagram's lurid glow. Flecks of gore on a soft pink sweater, sweet as candy dipped in grenadine - and speaking of candy...
"I've your shatter and prerolls here, by the by," he said, materializing a green gift bag printed with the logo for Cannibal Cannabis. "And dear Kiefer was kind enough to include a six-pack of lollies, free of charge!"
"Hey, lucky me!" Angel chirped, digging in with haste. "Mmmm, strawberry."
The kiss that followed tasted like springtime and terpenes. When their lips parted Angel's two right arms wrapped around Alastor's waist and shoulders, and Angel set his bat to rest across his own, inclining his head down the trash-strewn avenue toward the Hazbin Hotel. Toward home.
A fair deal of that trash was still on fire, filling the air with the smell of sizzling blood as great pools spread and intersected, all oozing lazily toward the clogged stormdrain to congeal in the stinking morass. Someone's chest wound was squealing like a helium balloon.
"Ya think we overdid it?"
Alastor cackled gaily and flapped his hand as they walked away. "Why, I didn't even eat anyone! In fact, I think I was rather restrained! Perhaps Regeneration will teach them the error of their ways, hm?"
"Let's call it, like, negative reinforcement," Angel proposed. "We're just discouraging self-destructive behaviors, is all."
"Spare the rod!"
Angel shot him a saucy look and bumped him with his hip. "Maybe I won't. If you're really good."
Alastor felt a ZING of anticipation shoot straight from the ends of his ears to the very tip of his tail.
"You know how I get in the wake of your carnage, my heart," he answered, so in love that even that was nearly beyond his abilities. "You're sure to be beating me off with a stick either way."