Chapter Text
The world is burning.
Your tongue tastes of ash and smoke. You inhale only to cough and sputter. Merely breathing is a painful enough to your senses. The smell of charred skin and boiling blood sickens you to your core. Struggling to escape the crumbling building you try to save someone of importance. But, as you tear around the corner down the stairs, a few ghastly faces stand at the steps leering at you.
Your heart stops as you quake in horror.
A door behind you bursts opens.
Before you know it, you feel the searing pain of heat. The sensation of flying overtakes you.
Everything starts to slow down. You watch as the face of the one you tried to save melts and contorts. The skin peels and chars like a piece of meat on a frying pan.
The agony and shock of it all- and the raging fire- barely enables you to register the shrieks and terror beneath you. And you watch your world, the world you once knew, start to crumble before you black out.
First there is light. A light so bright that nearly blinds your vision. You hear a voice but can barely make out the words they speak. Then you feel as though you are plummeting. Something was pulling you down. Your hair ripples behind you as your clothes start to turn to tatters slowly.
You twist and contort your body this way and that in hope to brace for possible impact onto something.
Anything.
A tenebrous darkness consumes your entire being leaving you in a state of forbidding danger. You can feel your chest heaving and pulling itself apart as if something is fighting to stop you from falling. But another. . . Presence feels as though it is trying to pull you down.
It is too strong and you start to fall further down. The darkness transitions to hues of red and you close your eyes knowing that this must be the end.
You feel your consciousness slip under and you black out again.
You had thought for sure that your death wouldn’t have been as torturous as this. But what you just experienced was hell. Maybe all of this is just a bad dream and you’d wake up any second now feeling okay.
Everything works out in the end, right?
________________________________________________________________________
Everything is hazy. Your vision is clouded with blurs of burgundy and maroon. Drifting in and out of consciousness, somehow you manage to make out a tall figure approaching you.
Said figure pokes at your face, muttering incoherent words. . . or perhaps you could not process what you heard? You scrunch up your nose at the contact, assuming it's just your imagination to blame or your senses playing tricks on you; that is, until whoever is touching you decides to feel you up. Your eyes immediately snap open. Your fists clench, fully prepared to launch somewhere painful for the owner of these unsolicited hands. . . that is, until your mind catches up to your eyes and they get an ear-shattering shriek instead.
It—they—whatever it is towers over you. The creature has four arms, two of which are crossed against its bust while the other two rest on its hips. You note its pink irises contrasted against mismatched white and black scleras as its eyes narrow at you with an unamused expression. What surprises you next is that the being in front of you starts talking. To you. You blink. Once. Twice. Listening to the creature rant at you with an accent you seem to recognize.
"Geez, toots. I thought you were dead or passed out or somethin', so I figured I'd take whatever ya' got on ya' and leave. Though, judging by the shocked expression and the ragged clothes, ya' look like yer new here." Its eyes look you up and down as though trying to determine how much of a potential threat you could be.
You avert your eyes from the scrutiny of its gaze, opting instead to stare down at the ground beneath your feet.
With a meek voice you attempt to speak, only to be met with the horribly unpleasant sensation of wheezing and fire burning your lungs. Despite the searing pain, you- being the stubborn person you are- still persevere in trying to muster a coherent string of words. You need to know where you are. You need answers. You need to say something. The sound of your voice makes you wince as you manage to speak. It comes out hoarse and slightly raspy, as though you've been traveling in the desert without a single drop of water for days. Somehow, though, the creature in front of you can make out what you're saying.
"Wh-where am I? Who? Or—or what . . . what are you?
"Holy hell, lady. Not only do ya' look like shit, but you sound like shit too," it guffaws with a mocking smirk.
The comment has your blood boiling, a bitter emotion welling up in your throat, but you won't let your anger get the better of you. Not until you know where you are and what you're dealing with. Clearly the being can see your evident irritation- knuckles white and your teeth grinding —based on his next comment.
"Easy there, babe. You don't wanna start a fight with a guy like me. It wouldn't end well for ya'."
This . . . thing is right. For all you know, it could easily rip you to shreds for so much as disrespecting it. The mere thought sends discreet shivers running down your spine.
"Anyways, you're in Hell. Did ya' not notice the red sky and the ominous pentagram over the whole damn city or somethin'?"
After registering its comment, you peer upwards to dicover the sky is indeed painted a worrying shade of crimson with a faint glowing pentagram hovering above a landscape pigmented in hues of various reds and blacks. Your jaw goes slack as you process the newly received information and, without thinking, you mutter a single word.
"Why?"
It looks at you funny and blinks. Once. Twice. Then bursts out laughing.
"Seriously? 'Why?' Well obviously, you made a few oopsies back when you were alive, didn't repent, and then died only to end up here in this shit hole," it says, throwing out its arms and gesturing to your current surroundings.
The stranger offers you a hand, lifting you up from the pavement to stand in front of it. "The name's Angel Dust. I'd say it's nice ta' meet ya', but eh. Dunno ya' yet. Not that I'd want to."
It [or rather he] as Angel clears up, explains to you that he is, for lack of a better term, a jigolo. It doesn't come as a surprise to you when you learn that his name originates from a favorite drug of his, though it leaves you to wonder how long he's gone by such an . . . odd title for himself. Perhaps it's a professional name (or at least something along the lines of that)?
All of it honestly explains a lot about his interesting mannerisms and blatantly risqué appearance.
He goes on to explain what Hell is like. Apparently, there isn't an actual government system—aside from a hierarchy with Lucifer himself at the top—and a complete lack of regulations in general. There are numerous territories that are fought over for control from time to time, and demons can practically do anything they want without facing consequence, making it the most dangerous place to be for someone weak and small.
Like you.
The mere thought leaves you frightened and visibly anxious. Angel once again senses your concern and groans, dramatically letting out an exasperated sigh. He runs his fingers through his fluffy-looking hair as he speaks, a less than desirable tone to his words.
"Ugh, great. And here I thought I found myself another demon that I could actually have some fun with, but she turns out to be a jittery pansy."
You flinch.
"Seriously, just looking at you makes me feel bummed out. Try ta' relax a little."
A sly sort of smirk creeps onto his face and your gut fills with sudden unease in response.
"Or maybe . . . I could try and make you relax. Usually I only provide my services to people who pay me. Plus, I don't normally swing your way, but. . ."
You watch as he eyes you up and down once more, this time in a far more sensual way. You shrink and wrap your arms in response, heart rate noticeably increasing. You can feel him drawing closer to you, but before he can say or do anything, a small cry of defiance escapes your lips in the form of a flustered and fearful "No!" With that, you push him back. Hard.
Something about this situation summons utter dread to coil unsettlingly in your gut and turn your shoulders to knots, but you can't put your finger on why. What happened to you before death? What was your life like? What. . . escape? Then realization hits you: You can't remember: The only thing you can remember is fire. Nothing else. Just your name and the crackling flames of life's merciless executioner.
Thankfully (and unexpectedly), Angel's voice is the one thing to distract you from nearly breaking down in this literal hell you've found yourself in.
"Alright, alright. I was just kiddin', toots. I wouldn't fuck ya'. Not that I don't find ya' attractive or anything. I already told ya' I'm not into gals. Besides, I'd only do it for a quick cash grab. But since you're new here without a cent on ya', I'm not gonna touch ya'. I've got myself a reputation to uphold."
He dusts off his pink and white suit and adjusts his bow tie as though providing emphasis for his prior statement.
"That don't mean that I can't help ya', though. Ya' know, babe, the way I see it, you wouldn't last a minute out here by yourself. You're new, ya' look like a pipsqueak compared to other demons, and ya' seem to scare pretty easy too. Ya' probably don't even know how ta' fight, do ya'?"
You hesitantly shake your head no. He sighs and pinches the space between his eyes.
"To be honest, I'm not surprised. Now, I could see if my boss is willin' to take in another wayward soul into his business, but you probably aren't into the work he would give ya'. So, I know this place just a couple a blocks away from here. It's part of a little project some broads are hellbent on working on. I've got a room to myself for free. Chances are they'd probably let you stay too. At least ya' find yer own way around here."
He smirks, offering his hand to you once more. You think about it, hesitating. The look he gives you doesn't show any benevolence, but no malice either, so you take it and nod sheepishly.
"Great! Just follow me and try ta' keep up, will ya'?"
He turns to start walking and you stumble a bit as you struggle to match his pace. Your legs feel like they haven't been used for an eternity as you clumsily attempt to keep up with the effeminate arachnid. While the two of you are walking, he decides to strike up a conversation to break through the awkward silence.
"So, uh. What'd you do?"
You blink in confusion, your gaze resting on the back of Angel's head as he continues to walk.
"Pardon?" you respond, furrowing your brows.
Angel sighs then explains. "Ya' know, how'd you end up in Hell? What sins did you commit?"
You think for a moment. You can't remember, but you didn't want him knowing that, afraid that he might think you to be weak and easy to tear apart. So, you decide to fib.
"I . . . I was envious and filled with wrath. I took my anger and frustration out on others and it ultimately killed a lot of people."
Part of that sentence feels familiar. The other half though. . . The idea of being a murderer makes your stomach lurch. The thought just doesn't sit right with you. But the part about envy—it brings back memories. Not actual memories, but feelings that you can't decipher nor comprehend.
"Really? Ya' don't look like the kinda gal to take out yer anger out on innocent people. Or maybe ya' look more sheepish and weaker than ya' actually are, but hey. Doesn't matter now, does it? After all, you're in Hell."
You sigh softly in relief that he doesn't press any further on the topic.
As you pass by numerous buildings, you notice the other creatures that walk about the streets. There are so many walking about the city or just sitting alongside the street looking homeless. Its as if the place is overpopulated.
"So many others here. . ." You mumble.
Angel Dust is quick to catch on your words, "Yeah, well, Hell is overcrowded with a bunch'a sinners like me. No one up top is squeaky clean after all. and if they are, they're just a bunch'a stuck ups looking to kiss ass. God's ass to be more precise. And if the population and sinning ain't enough to make ya worry, they've got worse things that happen every year down here."
You could have sworn you heard him mutter under his breath something about not suffering enough from being down here, but when you went to ask he just smirks with a grin on his face.
While you squeeze through crowds to keep up with him you note that many of these creatures look even more frightening than your fellow companion, and others less so. The demons here appear to come in various different shapes and sizes. Some look more beastly with horns and wings and tails. Some appear closer to humanoid caricatures but with ash or alabaster skin. Some are making catcalls out to Angel and you while others are eyeing you up the same way that Angel did when you first arrived.
Sizing up how much of a threat you are.
You shiver as you try to ignore the attention that the other demons are giving you while increasing your pace so that you're directly next to Angel. The predatory stares makes your stomach lurch in response. He side eyes you, but otherwise makes no comment and keeps walking. It isn't long before the two of you are standing in front of a tall building crowned with a sign that reads "Happy Hotel" in flickering red lights. Despite its name, the hotel looks like something straight out of a horror movie. The moment you find yourself on the steps of the colossal structure you freeze.
Icy chills spread throughout your body. The air around you feels heavy. Endless scenarios race across your mind: chainsaws hainging from hooks covered in blood, body parts bloodily mutilated and strewn across the floor, chunks of flesh peeling off of murder victims. Flayed and charred skin all used as furnishing- the scent of burn victims, blood, death- What if there are bodies impaled on massive skewers or a masked murderer lurking in the shadows? Or even worse more disturbing monsters?
What if this is a trap? What if there were cannibals living here looking for their next meal?
What would you do if you are the meal?
Your companion passes you by and briskly opens the door.
He looks to you before going in, "Well, you comin' or what?"
You take a deep breath, gulping, then exhale, trying to calm your nerves. You reason that this could be the only place for you to stay, knowing it would be safer than going out alone to face the unknown certainty of surviving and finding a place of your own. So you resolve to go in, unsure and slightly fearful of what awaits you inside the hotel.
As you enter the building, you take in its atmosphere- releasing a breath- and look around the place with a bit more curiosity than wariness. Meanwhile, Angel makes his way further into the lobby and opens a fridge with barely any food, grabbing a box dripping with liquid and pulling out a somewhat melted popsicle. Your gaze wanders over to him and you notice how he suggestively sucks on the frozen treat, choosing then to look away once again and examine the place thoroughly. A "welcome" banner is strung up above the reception desk, along with balloons and party decor, and to the right is a comfortable-looking scarlet couch. You take note that the hotel itself is styled in numerous shades of red, much like the outside of Hell. The building also has a far less menacing demeanor from the inside compared to how the exterior presents itself. You pick up on the echoey clacking of heels against the floor as a soft voice rings out.
"Hey Angel! Good to see you back."
You turn towards the source of the voice to be met with yet another demon- this one appearing significantly more human than all the others you've seen. The only things visibly distinguishing her from actually being so is the red tint on her cheeks and white skin that gives her the glowing impression of a delicate porcelain doll. . . until you see the two sharp fangs in the sweetness of her smile. She looks your way and takes in the sight of you standing there.
"Who's this?" she asks, glancing back to Angel.
"Hmm? Sorry, what were ya' sayin'?"
His eyes dart between you and the girl.
"Oh. OH, shit. Forgot to ask for ya' name, toots."
You stare blankly at the floor and fidget with the hem of your ruined shirt, unsure of whether or not you should give out your real name. You've just met these demons and have no idea what they're capable of. So, hesitantly and nervously, you choose to lie.
"Persephone. . . It's Persephone."
That name is the first that comes to mind. It sounds strikingly familiar, though you can't quite wrap your head around it.
The pretty girl beams at you while Angel simply shrugs his shoulders and walks over to the couch, plopping down on it. He grabs the remote to the TV from the coffee stand and proceeds to turn on what looks to be a news channel. Your attention trails off from him to the grinning doll-like figure in front of you, waiting to see how she approaches your sudden arrival at the hotel.
"Oh my goodness! It's so good to meet a new face in Hell." She clears her throat after her bubbly display then offers her hand to you. When she notices your hesitance she retracts it, still smiling all friendly like, "Hello, I'm Charlie! So, Persephone, what brings you to the Happy Hotel?"
"Happy Hotel"? What's so happy about a hotel in Hell? You find yourself suddenly pulled out of your confusion and intrigue when she shakes your hand, utterly dumbfounded by the absolute kindness and joy she radiates in a place that should devour her alive.
"Uh. . . Well, I um. . . I just got here . . . in Hell, I mean . . . and—and Angel offered me a place to stay . . . and it—it seemed a lot safer to—to stick by him. Since I . . . I don't know anything about this place. . ."
You tug anxiously at your sleeve as you avoid her stare. Make yourself small so they won't pay you any mind. You feel so out of place here. So out of your element. It just feels wrong. Just then, another girl with ash-colored skin and long white hair with a red "x" covering up one of her eyes appears down the steps. She eyes you first, then Angel, and finally Charlie.
"Who is she?"
She looks at you with pursed lips and a furrowed brow as her eyes narrow in on you. With a look like that and the way her arms are crossed you get the impression that she's not as trusting as the smiling blonde standing in front of you.
Charlie strides over happily to the apprehensive girl and excitedly hugs her, clearly delighted to see her.
"Vaggie!" She then gestures to you. "This is our newest guest to the hotel for rehabilitation! She just arrived in Hell."
"Rehabilitation?" You mutter incredulously. "But . . . I. . . don't even know if I can or want to be rehabilitated . . ."
"You brought her here without even telling her what we're doing?" Vaggie snaps at Angel, the sound of her voice causing him to groan in annoyance and answer with an irritated scoff.
"Yeah, yeah, so what? I figured she'd be better off here than rotting outside in the hell hole I found her in. Besides, she doesn't seem to fit in here with the rest of us if ya' ask me. If anythin' I'm doing the both of ya' a favor bringing her to this dump. Consider it making up for that turf war fiasco that left the hotel looking like a sham."
Vaggie grits her teeth and stares at him with pure disdain. Charlie, however, soon breaks the two up by clearing her throat and reassuringly placing a hand on Vaggie's shoulder. She smiles softly at her and Vaggie calms down instantly, offering one of her own. Charlie turns back to you.
"Well, first things first, we should probably get you out of those torn up clothes. I'm sure some of my old outfits that I have would work for you. Come on."
You return her grin, taking her hand and following her up the stairs into what looks to be her office and bedroom. She peeks into her closet. The sound of hangers clacking against one another as she moves around the clothes gives you a sense of comfort and reminds you of the everyday chore of deciding what to wear before going out. It reminds you slightly of when you were alive. But again, you could not remember details. Just glimpses and feelings. The thought makes you frown.
Charlie's voice drowns out the thoughts you are having.
"Aha! I think this will be perfect for you! What do you think, Persephone?"
She happily holds up a black, frilly dress and white lace stockings. It looks reminiscent of the Victorian era in England. You gingerly touch the fabric. It feels soft to the touch.
"I-it's pretty. But..." You look to her unsure, "Are you sure I can wear this? I mean it is yours, right?"
She looks at you softly then nods, "Of course. Besides, it doesn't fit me anymore. It's a bit too short. But I think it would fit you. Even though you well..., Um... Ya know."
She motions to her bust and hips then to you,
"But, hey, it still might fit. It's more flexible than it looks."
She motions you out of the bedroom into the hall, then to a room. The door has a plaque with the number 660.
"Here is your room. Oh, and the key too. We just finished tidying up this room in case we had more residents. This is actually one of the presidential suites." She grins at you as she hands you a key tipped with a skull. With wide eyes and a slightly ajarred mouth you take it and look to her,
"The presidential suite...? But Charlie, why would you...? I hardly have any money and you are giving me one of the most luxurious rooms in this hotel?"
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and clasps her hands together,
"Weeellll, there are a lot of rooms here that are presidential suites and are still just a fabulous as this one. Plus, I figured since you're new here and you looked really scared and nervous you could use something to... I don't know, help you feel more comfortable." She sighs and lowers her hands, "Look. I can tell you are scared and frazzled and really really nervous. I get it. Ending up in hell can be scary, but this place can be your home if you look past all the bad stuff that goes on here."
You blink, frowning guiltily over all the generosity and compassion the demon before you has shown- kindness you didn't deserve.
"Charlie, I-"
She tilts her head, still smiling brightly at you as you hesitate to tell her you're not even sure you can be rehabilitated because of your current condition. Instead a soft thank you is all you can muster up the courage to say.
"Your welcome! Well, you take care. And if you need anything just let me know. My office is just a few doors down from here. I'll let you clean up and whatnot. Talk to you later Persephone. It's a pleasure meeting you!" She waves as she walks down the hall back down the stairs. Leaving you alone to wander into the room as you sigh to yourself.
The moment you step in and look up, your eyes widen. The room is spacious with an ebony dresser next to a queen-sized bed with a pink silk canopy. You take note that the sheets are also velvet and silk. Everything about this room screams fancy. After taking a brief moment to compose yourself, you shut the door.
You examine your surroundings, humming a familiar tune to yourself as you prepare to look at yourself in a vanity mirror that stands in the corner of the room. You inhale a breath, keeping yourself from screaming. Angel was right.
"You do look like shit," you mutter with a shake of your head.
Your skin, now more of a pale ash color, is littered in cuts, grime and dirt. You notice that your irises have still kept their natural blue color, but the sclera of your eyes are black and your pupils slitted like a cat's. You also note that your hairs kept its natural color, length and curls, but has white highlights and now forms fluffy fox like ears at the top. And now, instead of the human teeth you had when you were alive, you have fangs.
Curiosity gets the better of you and you touch one of the sharp canines, hissing the moment you feel your thumb on the tooth. You grimace at the small pool of blood welling on the tip of your thumb, finding that it brings back memories of dread and anguish.
You are not ready to remember. Not yet. So instead you focus on taking a nice shower to distract yourself. The sight of the bathroom makes you stare in awe just as the bedroom did: It is spacious with both a shower and bathtub- a jacuzzi, on closer inspection. Bathrobes that are as smooth as silk in shades of red and black hang up on hooks next to a vanity mirror that appear to be made of gold with lights surrounding it. The sink looks just as fancy with carefully crafted gold handles. It looks to be made of ebony with a marble top finish.
Yet again you compose yourself and strip the grimy torn clothes off your figure and glance down in dissappointment. You hated the pairing of your broad hips and large breasts- the lewd looks men gave you. . . Your diminutive stature added insult to injury now that most demons tower over you, making you feel weak and vulnerable.
You shake your head as you enter shower. At first the water comes out freezing, but then it adjusts to your liking as you step in. The shampoo and conditioner, you notice, smell of peaches and honey. Sweet with a bit of citrus.
Once you are clean and dressed in the clothes Charlie so generously gave you, you walk out the room and decide to head back down the stairs. Angel is the first one to to glance up at the clacking of your black wedges. His brief shock at your sudden change of appearance gives way to a smirk as he walks in your direction, but before he can even get to you, a knock on the door distracts you and Charlie.