Hazbin Hotel: Another Adam

"And here we have rooms for souls who want to atone for their sins," Charlie gestured down a long corridor dotted with doors.

The tour had been going on for about fifteen minutes, and she was literally showing me every nook and cranny. Almost under a microscope. It was starting to annoy me, though I didn't show it – the expression "angelic patience" wasn't invented for nothing, and mine should be archangelic.

"And why didn't Vaggie come with us?" I asked with deliberate casualness, hoping a change of subject would save me from hearing about ventilation shafts with excellent acoustics.

"Oh, Vaggie…" Charlie sighed and smiled faintly, "she just thinks the guys need constant supervision. Especially Angel… and, probably, Niffty. You saw what they're capable of."

"Did you talk to her? You know… about her nature?"

"Yes," Charlie nodded, her smile dimming, "she told me everything. At first, I was… hurt, I guess. Not because she's an Exorcist, but because she hid such a part of herself from me. And then she told me she was just afraid of losing me. Ashamed that she lied to me when we met. But everything's fine now."

"Glad to hear it. Believe me, you can trust her. If she could even forgive me – then you're definitely safe from betrayal."

"Forgive?" she repeated, tilting her head slightly, "For what?"

Hmm. Interesting question. Did Vaggie not tell her whose fault it was that she lost an eye, wings, and ended up in Hell?

"What did she tell you, exactly?"

"That she's an angel-Exorcist. That she's currently on leave. That she got into some trouble… and then she met me. And fell in love," she chuckled a little bashfully. "Did she miss anything?"

"Not really," I shrugged, "just curious."

Curious how she built a bridge between us. It seems she doesn't want me and Charlie to become enemies. Afraid Charlie might lose support.

The only ally in Heaven, hmm?

"So what do you think… about all this?"

"About all this?"

"About the hotel. About our idea. You saw, they're really trying. I believe that sooner or later they'll be able to atone for their sins."

I looked at her a little more closely. She glowed with this faith, like a lightbulb in an old lighthouse, stubbornly cutting through the night fog. This naivety wasn't irritating. It was touching.

"You're burning with enthusiasm – that's good. But don't put such a burden on them as redemption. Just… be yourself. I'm sure it will touch them."

"Be myself?" she squinted, as if sensing a double meaning.

"Yep. Your optimism is contagious. Seriously. It's like a breath of fresh air, especially for sinners."

"My optimism, little brother?" her eyes narrowed slyly, and when we stepped out onto the balcony, I almost choked from surprise.

"Kha-kha! What?"

"You yourself said you're the son of all Seraphim… and I'm the daughter of one of them. So, we're almost family," and she winked like a truly malevolent demon.

"Well, I'll be…" I covered my face with my hand, suppressing laughter, "sly little minx."

"Thank you," she said suddenly, leaning on the railing. Her gaze drifted into the distance, at the cracked city where fire danced among buildings, and explosions occurred at least once a minute. "For giving me a chance. And them too." She turned to me, and her gaze held everything: fear, gratitude, curiosity. "Thank you for being you."

I smirked silently, placed my palm on her head, and gently ruffled her hair. She immediately protested:

"Hey!"

"Hahaha!" I laughed, "don't overthink it. Better to relax. Spend time with friends; you're too young for such thoughts (look who's talking, right? I was about 20 in that world, and she's already 219, yes, yes, I Googled it)."

I turned and also looked at the city. Enormous, filthy, pulsating in agony. Pentagram City. A place where even the air was saturated with Darkness.

It's amazing that such a miracle grew here.

"Thanks anyway…" Charlie muttered, blushing. She tried to be nonchalant, but I noticed. "For me, this is… really important."

"No problem. I'm serious. It costs me nothing. It's not worth thanking for – just be yourself, remember?"

Silence fell. We just stood and looked at the chaos that seemed like a daily backdrop here. Urban battles, plumes of smoke, rare gunshots in the distance.

For her, it was mundane. For me – exotic; you wouldn't see this in Heaven, and in my past world, I'd only seen rockets; it hadn't come to urban combat.

"Adam, can I ask something?" Her voice had become a little uncertain.

I shifted my gaze to her. I wonder why she's so nervous when talking to me?

"Well, go ahead. If I can – I'll answer."

"Why… are exterminations even necessary? The annual ones. Well, or now, every six months. Can't we… just send sinners to other circles? To relieve Hell, not destroy it?"

I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath. The question wasn't new – but difficult for her to understand. And painful for me, when asked with such an expression on her face.

"Overpopulation isn't exactly about 'not enough space'," I began quietly, leaning my elbow on the railing, "but about the scale of the threat. When there are too many sinners, demons from outside the Pride Ring start buying up their souls, even though it's forbidden. And then the demons gain power. Real power. Imagine, just a measly ten million sinner souls are enough – and there you have it, a demon who used to be just an unpleasant opponent for me gets empowered tenfold."

"Is that… bad?"

"It's a catastrophe." I looked at her seriously. "During the First War, Beelzebub chose the path of a False God. Created cults on Earth. In Greece, for example, she was called Zeus – god of the sky, thunder, and lightning. She became second in power only to Lucifer. Even stronger than Satan. Honestly, without your asshole-father, we wouldn't have managed."

"So you… you exterminate sinners to prevent demons from rising?" Disbelief and sincere shock sounded in her voice.

"Exactly. Believe me, if it weren't for the threat to Heaven – I wouldn't lift a finger against sinners. I don't give a damn about them. But when they start threatening my home – then there's no time for philosophical discussions about life. I am an Archangel. I am a protector. Albeit with a tarnished halo."

"Adam…"

Charlie's voice was quieter, betraying her nervousness.

"Charlie," I said wearily, without turning around, "I understand it pains you to watch your subjects being killed. But sinners are dangerous. The more of them there are – the stronger the demons become. It's a pattern. I don't want to continue this topic."

There was too much pain in her eyes. Not the pain of understanding the world's cruelty, but the pain that someone she trusts accepts this cruelty as the norm. She nodded silently, hunching her shoulders.

"Until sinners start getting into Heaven on an industrial scale – the exterminations will not stop."

This was the truth. Cruel, but inevitable. Like the law of gravity. And I'm not going to change my decision, because Heaven has already become my home, and I won't let it turn into a branch of Hell.

Actually, I knew why she was asking. Not for a discussion. Not for information. Her gaze screamed one thing – she hoped I would say: "Yes, we'll stop." That in my words, there would be hope for her people, even a crumb. Naive. Kind. I pity her. A pity that such a light was trapped in this darkness.

"I understand. I'm sorry," she said, choked up, lowering her head.

I nodded silently, without anger, without irritation. Just… knew we wouldn't agree on this issue. It seems this is precisely what tormented her.

At that moment, a familiar freak in red attire stepped out from the shadow of the balcony.

A wide smile – from ear to ear. Eyes like two rubies. A frock coat in burgundy and black tones, exquisite, as if tailored for a clown and a gentleman simultaneously. Tall, elegant, and yet exuding a kind of unnatural predatory aura. The deer antlers, moreover, completed the image of such a full-fledged stag, who, if he weren't asexual, one might have been tempted to give a different kind of horns... Okay, shitty joke, good thing I didn't say it out loud…

"Oh, my dear Charlie, Adam," his voice broke into old-fashioned radio static, as if not a living being was speaking, but a gramophone. "Pleased to meet you. I'm afraid we didn't get properly acquainted last time," he extended his hand, smiling, without blinking. "My name is Alastor. I am the director of this fine establishment."

I shook his hand doubtfully. It was cold. He was, of course, pretending to be polite, but I felt that mockery was hidden behind every word, and I didn't like his gaze either, as if there was a challenge in it.

"Oh, Alastor! This is Adam; he came to visit us for a tour today!" Charlie chirped animatedly, clearly trying to diffuse the tension. "Oh… are you two already acquainted?"

"Yes," I smirked, not looking away from the deer's eyes. "Recently, I attended a meeting of Hell's wannabe-overlords. Had a chat with them… let's say, quite persuasively."

I allowed myself a malicious smirk and tilted my head slightly, looking Alastor straight in the face.

"A couple of minutes with me, and they were no scarier than little animals that were so fun to torment."

The deer narrowed his eyes, and his smile… grew wider. Unnaturally. As if he himself wasn't controlling it, but someone beyond our world was pulling thin, almost invisible strings, as if his face were a puppet's.

His cheeks stretched to their limit, the corners of his lips twitched upwards with a pained theatricality, the skin itself yielding to the strained acting. The smile didn't express joy – it was a mask. Forced, alien, as if permanently glued to his face, and behind this mask, something else trembled. Cold. Cruel. Dark.

What creepiness, though more like vileness.

"Oh, now, now, you just came and played a little joke on one bothersome individual," he said softly, as if in passing, and then added in the same tone: "I wouldn't say there was any torment."

"Oh, so you didn't even notice how you were humiliated, little fawn?" I asked a little louder and began to squeeze his hand. Slowly, methodically, increasing the pressure. Until it crunched. Until he trembled. Alastor's eyes narrowed, but the smile didn't disappear. Only his right eye twitched slightly, betraying the pain.

He also began to squeeze my hand in return. But for me, it was no more painful than a mosquito bite, so my smile also widened, expressing contempt and superiority.

"Adam! Alastor!" Charlie intervened, looking at us anxiously. "Calm down, please, no fighting allowed here!"

Oh, Charlie. Do you really believe anyone here will agree to back down?

Alastor continued to smile. Trying way too hard. It was unnatural, even for a demon; something was definitely wrong with his smile, but what?..

"Well then, if fighting isn't allowed here…" I said slowly, "then maybe we should step outside? Over by those ruins, little beast?" I point to a place where fighting had recently occurred but had since stopped.

He chuckled hoarsely, and the sound of his laughter was like the crackle of a radio.

"Want to die a second time, little angel? Think your holy power will save you?"

I let go of his hand, and at that moment... his body began to change.

First, his skin darkened, dulled. Then his antlers elongated, curved, becoming more like ancient, chipped bones. His eyes turned completely crimson, and in them danced not the fire of emotions, but the void of Darkness. His fingers stretched, revealing claws. His silhouette became taller, thinner, but at the same time – more massive.

He was becoming who he truly was. The Radio Demon. A being who single-handedly redrew the map of Hell, destroying a dozen overlords who had ruled for years, decades. A monster who had somehow obtained his strange power.

But I wasn't scared; I had a feeling I'd fought much scarier creatures. A strange feeling, since I had no memories; perhaps Adam's memory of the battle with the Seven Deadly Sins? Hmm...

All somewhat powerful beings here have a second form in which they become stronger, and manipulating their power becomes much easier for them. Did Adam have such a form? No. Why? Hell if I know, because the Seraphim did.

"Well, what now, radio freak," I said, taking a step forward, "want to see who's really in charge of this broadcast today?" I soar into the sky, spreading my golden wings.

Alastor let out a quiet, distorted chuckle, and a wave of distortion rippled through the air. A pressure of raw power. Common trick. Not impressed.

"Only if you're ready to die on live air…" he hissed, a rasp in his voice.

And then I noticed Charlie looking at us, scared and agitated; she simply didn't understand how it had come to this.

Sigh, little one, you still have much to learn about "overlords" and the cruel orders they maintain. The cult of strength, for example…

Strange.

Doesn't he feel my pressure?

And it's not like I'm holding back – I'm radiating Light like cesium radiates radiation. But he's still picking a fight.

Trying to prove something? To himself? To me? Or… to Charlie?

Thinks I won't kill him in front of her? Well then, he's right.

As much as I'd like to thrust my hand into his chest and crush his heart – I shouldn't be cutting and breaking people in front of my "little sister," especially if they're her acquaintances.

And how long have they known each other anyway? A week? No… It's been two. Or three.

Long enough for her to protect him.

"Stop, Adam! Alastor! Don't fight!" Charlie's voice breaks into a scream, vibrating in the air like the tolling of a funeral bell.

Too late, Princess. It already smells like blood here. Even if there isn't any yet.

Long, slippery, black tentacles sprout from Alastor's back. They extend like elevator cables and smoothly lower him from the balcony, allowing him to hover in the air – opposite me. His face still radiates that creepy, doll-like smirk.

"Charlie, don't worry," I respond, not taking my eyes off him, "I won't kill him. I just want to see what modern overlords are capable of."

And then… the circus begins, because the clowns are back…

With a crash, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Niffty, and… Pentious tumble onto the balcony. With his entourage of five mentally challenged eggs. Looks like they felt the disturbance of our power. Or, more likely, the earthquake from my opponent's tentacles.

"Charlie, what's happening?!" Vaggie shouts desperately, grabbing Charlie's hand. Her eyes dart between me and Alastor, and I want to smirk: she's scared. Good. Let at least someone here react appropriately; I'm sure the others will put on some stupid show.

"Whoa," Angel breathes out, looking at Charlie with a dumbfounded expression, "so this isn't just 'Adam,' but the Adam? The one you went to meet with?"

His face is a mixture of horror, curiosity, and a slight infatuation. Psycho.

"I TOLD YOU HE WAS A SPY FROM HEAVEN!" Pentious bellows triumphantly, snatching his constructed nightmare from Vaggie's hands – a taser made from a toaster, forks, and a piece of duct tape.

Engineer of the future, damn it.

"Yes, boss, you said just that," one of the eggs supports him with respectful idiocy.

"I WILL INCINERATE HIM WITH MY LIGHTNING LASER 5000!" Pentious yells, already posing like a heraldic rooster atop a panorama.

I'm not pressuring them. No need. These ones can be scared off with a simple glance. My attention now is on him. On Alastor.

"Sigh, I wish the boss would incinerate me too with his cool laser," an egg sighs sadly, lowering its head.

"Don't worry," another egg consoles it, "I'm sure the boss will definitely incinerate you someday!"

This… This is just some fucking circus of psychopaths.

Seriously?

"Knew there was something off about him," Husk says, taking a swig from his bottle without looking away, "son of a bitch."

"Ooh, is he a baddie?" Niffty's shrill voice comes from somewhere to the side.

Who else?

I shift my gaze to Alastor.

He's not smiling. Not genuinely. His face is like a corpse's that forgot what emotions were at birth.

"So what are you hoping for, Alastor?" My voice has become lower, colder. "Think you have even the slightest chance?"

He just tilts his head slightly, like a doll with a poorly secured spring.

And replies:

"Don't overestimate yourself. You, of all people, should know what a mortal soul is capable of if it desperately craves power…"

And then I smile too.

Widely. Calmly.

Because I know: he's realized what he's gotten himself into. But he can't back down now.

And I… won't stop.

The little fawn is about to get his horns broken.