Chapter Text
It was another shitty day in Hell. Sinners running amok as they stole drugs, started fires, and fucked each other in the middle of the streets. A sleek, black limo rolled down said streets, its passenger ignoring the chaos as he flipped through the newspaper, grumbling to himself and wishing for a drink. Serves him right from promising he’d go clean. It’s all be worth it though, when he got to see--
The limo screeched to a halt and the tuxedo cat in the back growled in annoyance, his wings fluffing up in irritation as he glared up at the glass dividing the back of the car from the driver’s seat. A brief glance out the window calmed him, seeing he arrived at his destination. Namely a tall tower-like structure by the name of: The Hazbin Opera House. It looked rundown, and it was, with boards covering the shattered windows as well as many holes in the ceiling. A sign at the open doors reading ‘Auction Today’.
The cat let out a deep sigh, reaching next to him to grab his cane, the dice on top of it looking more dusty than it used too. It still did its job though, making him look feeble and injured as he headed through the doors. He made his way through the halls, the slitted pupils of his yellow eyes gliding over cobwebs and old statues covered in graffiti and dust. Voice echoed from further in the theater, signalling the auction was in full swing. It didn’t matter to him though. The item he came to collect hadn’t been put up for sale yet, he had made sure of it. He showed up at just the right time.
“Your number sir… Thank you,” a jubilant voice said as the cat entered the main stage area where the auction was being held.
A good number of people were gathered around a pale man standing on a pedestal, wearing a white suit and a large top hat with a red apple and a golden snake decorating it, the hat and pedestal almost hiding the fact he was four-feet tall. He was holding a gavel, decorated in a similar manner to his hat. He made eye contact with the cat as he came in, giving him a subtle nod, one which he returned. He then got back to business.
“Lot 663 then, ladies and gentleman. A poster of this house’s production of Hannibal,” he declared as a small red goat with wings flew above the audience, showing off the poster. It depicted a woman in a red dress, holding the severed head of a demon.
“May I have ten?” The pale man questioned, looking around the audience, who didn’t react. “Five then?” He asked and a blond woman with a thin neck and wearing a red dress raised her hand. Signalling the start of the bidding.
The cat glanced at the poster. He didn’t want it, but knew he needed to blend in as much as possible in order to have a better shot at getting his prize, so he put his hand up when the bid came up to eight. He ended up winning the poster and signalled for the goat to place it off to the side. He had other things to worry about.
He tapped his claws against the dice of his cane impatiently as another bid happened, this one for some prop skulls and guns, nothing of interest. He knew Lucifer was doing his best, but he wished he would hurry up and get to the next bid.
“Going with fifteen. Your number sir… thank you,” Lucifer nodded, as the bid was finished and he sent a glance the cat’s way. “Lot 665; A music box in the shape of a barrel organ. Attached, a figure of the famous clown, Fizzaroli, in the likeness of one of his robots designed by Lord Asmodeus,” he explained, another small goat with wings carrying the music box around for them all to see.
The cat focused on it, raising a brow in mock indifference. The clown on top was dressed in a red leotard with a matching jester hat. A black bow was tied around its waist and red stockings poked out from its knee-high black boots, the right were striped with black while the left were striped with white. This was what he had came for.
“This musicbox was not designed by Lord Asmodeus himself, the clown atop it is simply a recreation of his design. This box was discovered in the vaults of the theater and is still in working order,” Lucifer added as the goat winded up the box for a demonstration.
The song that came out was light and airy, peaceful. The cat squared his face into a neutral expression. It was showtime.
“May I commence the bidding at twenty?” Lucifer proposed and no one reacted. He raised a brow, trying not to look directly at the cat. “Come now ladies and gentlemen, fifteen then?” He suggested and the blonde woman raised her hand.
The cat raised his hand, raising it back to twenty. The blonde woman raised the bid higher, so did he. Within no time at all, the bet reached thirty and the blonde woman shook her head with a sneer, signalling she was out.
“Thirty once, selling twice,” Lucifer declared, slamming his gavel down with a resounding thunk and it seemed as though a weight lifted off the cat’s chest as he relaxed a little. “Sold to Husker, the gambling overlord. Thank you sir,” he nodded with a smile, sending the goat over.
Husker took the box in his free hand, tucking his cane under his arm to caress the clown figurine on top. He smiled as a warm laugh echoed in his head, unheard by everyone but him.
“A collector’s piece indeed. Every detail exactly as he said,” he reminisced, images of white and pink fur and mix-matched eyes, blue orbs and blonde locs, and a dazzling smile from both flashing across his memory. “He often spoke of you, my friend. You’re velvet lining and your figurine of lead,” he silently told the clown, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Will you still play when all of us lie double dead?” Husker asked in a whisper, turning his attention back to Lucifer as he indicated towards a large object in front of the stage, which was covered in a white cloth.
“Lot 666. A chandelier in pieces,” he declared and Husker’s face settled back into a neutral expression. “Some of you may recall the strange affairs of ‘The Phantom of the Opera’, a mystery never fully explained. We are told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier that was featured in the famous disaster,” Lucifer explained as the two goats flew over and grabbed the cloth, looking towards him in expectation.
“Our workshops have restored it and fitted it with wiring and electric lights, so we may get a hint of what it may looked like when reassembled,” he added, a mischievous gleam coming to his eye as he smirked at his audience. “Perhaps we may… frighten away the ghost of so many years ago. With a little… illumination!” Lucifer declared, gesturing towards the goats, who pulled the cloth away.
In an instant, the chandelier was lit and dazzling the audience like a firework. Husker took a deep breath as he was thrown back in time. Back before the disaster, back before he tried to quit alcohol, back when this wretched theater wasn’t covered in dust and cobwebs and holes in the ceiling, and back… to his beloved Angel.