Hazbin Hotel: Another Adam

Being a man of my word, strangely enough, I actually intended to do what I promised. Head home.

Spread my wings, soar upwards, and catch the wind with my chest for a couple of minutes – what can I say, I genuinely enjoy flying, and it looks impressive. A real archangel, damn it.

But no. Of course not.

At the very moment I was preparing to make the first flap, a golden light enveloped me. So soft, warm, almost cozy… if not for the fact that a moment later, I was there. In that excessively bright, excessively majestic hall where I had already been today. Only now, besides Sera, the entire fucking top league was gathered here – the Seraphim. The complete set.

Oops?

"Adam, you're finally finished," Sera said, giving me a look as if I'd ruined the tablecloth at a dinner party. "And now I want to hear the reason why you brought a sinner to Heaven. You do understand that such a thing is… extremely undesirable?"

Fuck. I'd relaxed, believed in myself, and now I'm standing surrounded by the most powerful beings in this goddamn universe trying to figure out how to get out of this situation… Got it.

"Sera, it's simple," I ground out through my teeth, trying to look as unperturbed as possible. "I'm, fuck, doing my fucking job – solving Hell's problem. To the best of my, let's say, fucking modest abilities."

Yeah, overdid it a bit, but emotions seeped through every phrase. Fatigue, tension, the constant feeling that I was out of place but had to play my role, was incredibly infuriating.

"Hell's problem?" Emily spoke up, with that same naive interest that made you want to hug her and simultaneously facepalm yourself.

"Yes, exactly. Hell's problem," I repeated. And admittedly, swearing in the presence of such bright and innocent beings was incredibly difficult. Probably my past life echoing back.

"Adam, stop," Sera tried to halt me. Her face showed panic. What if I blurted out something about the annual purges? You know… about that lovely act of mass extermination of sinful souls, which even the Seraphim here don't know about. I wonder how she'd try to wriggle out of that?

Spoiler: she wouldn't.

If I didn't have certain information, I would have used exactly that, but the MILF-Seraphim got lucky, so they won't find out about the purges anytime soon… Probably…

"Don't interrupt, Sera," I cut her off, looking her straight in the eyes. Coldly. Calmly. And then added, without even letting her open her mouth: "Hell's problem. I think you've noticed that sinners from Hell cannot be redeemed. It's considered impossible, right? Because there hasn't been a single confirmed case in the entire history of humanity. That's exactly what I call Hell's problem."

A second – and silence.

Sera looked at me in surprise. Mild surprise turned into wary calmness.

What, didn't think I'd start harping on about redemptions? What did you expect, Sera? Thought I'd get busted like Adam from canon? Yeah, right. Fat fucking chance. They picked the wrong guy.

"Redemption?.." Emily repeated, but joy was already creeping into her voice. "And you're involved in rehabilitating sinners?.." Her eyes literally lit up like Christmas garlands. Such a surprisingly positive attitude; why is she so happy about attempts to change sinners?

"Yep, I'm here thinking about how to solve this problem. Even made an agreement with the Princess of Hell for cooperation," I announced calmly, as if talking about the weather. Sera's face elongated so comically that I barely suppressed a chuckle – her jaw literally dropped. Heh, funny. Emily, on the other hand, seemed to shine even brighter, while the faces of some other Seraphim puckered as if they'd all bitten into the sourest lemon at once. Amusing.

"And this," I continued, nodding slightly to the side, "was a test of Darkness's influence on the mind. I found a sinner who had a chance at redemption and briefly took her out of Hell."

The explanation wasn't perfect, but if the previous Adam had had such an idea, he would have done exactly that. So, it all adds up. Technically. Logic on the level of "eh, that'll do."

"Ahem, Adam, so you wanted to conduct an experiment on that sinner?" Sera finally came to, her voice regaining its fragile composure.

"Yep. Want to add anything about this very influence of Hell? I see no point in constant experiments if you, for example, already know everything."

She sighed heavily. Apparently, she didn't expect to have to give lectures during an interrogation. Well, that's how it is, baby. That'll show 'em. I've gotten out of worse scrapes than this...

Stop. No, I haven't gotten out of any such scrapes; what are these thoughts? No, I could think like that, but only as a joke, but here I suddenly felt confident that I had indeed experienced some kind of clusterfuck.

What was that just now?.. Did I really go through something? Or is it someone else's memory? Adam's? Unlikely. But there's no one else.

Damn, my head hurts.

"Ahem… It is known that Hell is filled with Darkness," Sera began, having already regained her composure, "which pushes all Light beyond the seven circles, not counting the embassy, which is part of Heaven. It is undesirable to be in Hell. The more Light in a being, the stronger the pressure of Darkness on its mind. Darkness acts as an anti-substance – it displaces Light, destroying the mental structure, causing perceptual distortions, aggression, fear, motivational substitution, and personality instability. Therefore, Adam, it is extremely undesirable for you to be in Hell for extended periods. The optimal frequency is no more than once every ten years."

And she said all this while looking at me so expressively that I involuntarily shuddered.

Well, now it's clear why they don't want to go down to Hell. Now the question is how this affects sinners and Lucifer. He didn't seem to lose his Seraphim powers.

"And what about sinners? Is there any influence?" I asked, tilting my head slightly, as if in passing, though I was actually very interested.

"No," Sera replied without hesitation. "The bodies and souls of sinners are made of Darkness, just as ours are of Light. They are not affected by Hell's influence. I guarantee it."

Hmm. That's actually good. It means Darkness doesn't influence sinners' actions. Only...

If Hell and its atmosphere don't give a damn about sinners, and Darkness doesn't mess with their heads – then it turns out they don't redeem themselves not because of "evil magic" or environmental pressure. But because they themselves are degenerates. Who don't even think about redemption. They just don't care. It's their choice.

Well yes, environment also plays a role, I don't deny it. But... there was this acquaintance of mine in my past life. A guy from a dysfunctional family. Every day – hell on Earth. Drug-addict parents, God knows what going on at home, and at school – bullying, humiliation, mockery. Always bruised, in dirty clothes, with dead eyes. But he... didn't break. Didn't snap back, didn't get into fights. Just winced, kept silent, and sometimes, quietly cried.

After school – not into a gang, not into a drinking binge. But into a seminary. And then – to a theological university. And no, this isn't a joke. They don't teach you bankai in three days there. These are real educational institutions for priests. And when half of his classmates had either croaked from an overdose or were rotting in prison – he lived. Peacefully. Happily. With a lovely wife. In a cozy house.

His mother, by the way, he committed for treatment. Forcibly. His father had already kicked the bucket by then. But his mother – he pulled her through. Got her hooked on the Bible, gave her back a sense of meaning. A couple of years later, she was already living with them. Behaved quietly. It seemed she began to remember that she was a human, not an animal.

When I found out about this, I was very surprised. I started looking at faith differently. Yes, a system. Yes, a tool. Yes, mass control of the populace, and so on. But a tool is just a thing. You can cut bread with a knife. Or you can cut a throat.

"Then why can't we help them reform?.." Emily uttered with sincere surprise and sadness.

Seriously? What a child... She's one hundred and fifty-seven years old, by the way. I checked. But she acts as if she just took her first flight off the porch yesterday. Sera, my dear, did you raise her in a "golden cage" or something? Where's the upbringing, where's the realism, where's even a little critical thinking? No wonder Charlie was able to turn her against Sera so easily in canon.

"We will help. It just takes time," I threw out, trying to sound confident, not too harsh. "Sera, what about the weapons, by the way? Have you consulted?"

Good moment to change the subject. And yes, it had been bugging me for this whole time that the other Seraphim were silent. Not a sigh, not a remark, nothing. Sitting like living statues – and it was a bit unnerving. What, are they conferring telepathically? Or waiting for me to back myself into a corner?

I wonder how Sera explained the presence of hundreds of tons of angelic weapons in Hell without revealing info about the exterminations?

Heh. Exterminations.

In Heaven, of course, they call them purges. And those who conduct them – Exorcists, not Exterminators. Convenient, right? Sterile, beautiful, solemn. Pure Newspeak, in its cleanest form. And Newspeak, by the way, is one of the signs of a dictatorship. Isn't that right, Sera?

By the way, jokes about Sera's dictatorial tendencies are an old tradition here in Heaven. People love to drop a snide remark. But it's really just humor. Without reproaches, without subtext. It started with some ancient pompous speech of hers – years and years... many years ago. And it stuck ever since. So it's canon.

"Yes, we can retrieve the angelic metal," Sera began, but a rare note of doubt sounded in her voice. "But it will be quite difficult. Moving several hundred tons is unlikely to be possible. A hundred – maybe, somehow… but all at once… no, we won't have enough strength."

"Then I'll help." My voice sounded cunning, and there was a smirk on my face. "I'll get about eighty-five tons within three days. Can you handle the rest?"

Sera looked up in surprise. Ha, didn't expect that? Didn't think Carmilla had that much angelic weaponry, huh? And I did warn you, heh.

"I think it's possible. Affecting Hell is incredibly difficult… but, I think, we can manage."

"Sera, what about me? I want to help too!" Emily lit up, practically jumping in her seat.

"Em, you're still too young for such burdens…"

"Sera, come on, let the girl participate," I chuckled, looking at the burning desire in Emily's eyes. "Look how much she wants to help."

Suffer, woman. That'll teach you to summon me for an interrogation.

Emily, meanwhile, was already making goo-goo eyes and cuddling up to "mommy," persuading her with a Puss in Boots look.

"Oh… alright," she conceded.

"So, is that all? Or am I supposed to sit here till morning?"

"Ah, yes. Adam, then let us know when you've moved all the metal to Heaven. After that, we'll do our part," Sera said evenly. Metal, not "weapons." Funny how she likes to wrap such words in a veil of delicate phrasing.

"Okie-dokie. I'll give you a signal."

Phew. Bullshitted my way out of that one. Portal to my room – now. I just wouldn't have the nerves for a flight. Rest.

And now I'm home.

After a cuddle session with Lute – who, of course, didn't expect my sudden appearance and squeaked in surprise – we discussed everything that had happened. Thought about where to load the weapons. Logically, of course, into storage. But the space there… jack shit. We'll have to expand it using Light. By a factor of ten. Or more.

And then – as usual.

Movie. Snacks. Wine. The pleasant company of my beloved angel.

Ah… finally, I can relax.

Interlude, or "A Dream That Means Nothing"

"Morning sunshine, still alive? Think you'll recover your reserve by nightfall?" this violet-eyed genius of optimism approaches me, looking as if I'm here sipping coffee, not spreading a car's guts across the hood for the third hour.

"By nightfall?.. Like hell. If I'm lucky – I'll come to my senses by morning," I grumbled, not looking up from a bolt that had decided it was now part of the chassis.

He whistled, as if surprised. How shitty. I burned myself out completely last night, like an old fuse. And my energy got messed up too – thanks to those fucked-up shit-mutants that HE personally buffed with his divine power. Now even a simple touch – and that's it, hello, aura damage and hellish pain.

"Well, that's really shitty," he muttered and, for a moment, even looked grim. Finally understood that tonight they'd have to fight as a duo, without me. And without me, it would indeed be quite difficult for them.

And yes, under normal conditions, no overgrown monster-freaks there would have touched us; after all, the body of a New God can't be pierced even by a nuclear bomb, I know that much. But when his power is poured into them... even a cockroach with that kind of filling turns into a mini-nuke. And these freaks are far from cockroaches.

"Or maybe you'll just roll over and die without me, huh? Line up for the executioner as soon as I croak?" I roared, slamming the hood with such fury as if it were to blame for everything.

Done, problem solved. We can drive on before another pack of these freaks finds us here. If we're lucky – we'll reach the city. And there – houses, barricades, a chance for survival. The romance of post-apocalypse, what the fuck.

"Hey, what's with the attitude…" he mumbled, crestfallen. That same shadow flickered in his eyes. A memory. Of others. Of how they died. And we kept driving. Because there was no choice.

"Sorry. Everything just hurts, so I'm edgy…" I exhaled, sinking into the driver's seat. "Get in. We still have a long way to go, and time… time is now the most valuable resource."

"More valuable than reserve?" he picked up, tuning into my wavelength.

"Give it time – the reserve will recover. But if one of the executioners meets you at night, you might as well hang yourself; there's no chance anyway."

And we're on the road again. Again dust, ash, and the remnants of a once-living world. Ah, the road, you bitch, how romantic you are.