Hazbin Hotel: Another Adam

Phew. Well, that was a talk.

After all the words, the tears, the confessions—it felt... quieter inside. Lighter. Like some ancient weight finally loosened its grip, letting me stretch my wings at last. Adam's mistake was nearly corrected. All that remained was the metal... and then my debt would be paid in full. A debt to myself.

We stepped out of the office. The hallway air felt cool and fresh, like after confession. Vaggie walked beside me, no longer tense—her voice soft, almost melodic, as she spoke about life here. Who did what, Charlie's dreams of change, how the hotel gradually became a new kind of home for her.

"Funny," I said, raising an eyebrow. "You forgave me so quickly. I haven't even forgiven myself."

(Not entirely true, but hey—gotta keep up the image while I can.)

"Well... you weren't really yourself," she shrugged, her smile tinged with sadness. "Not the you I knew."

"Heh. Fair point."

We were nearing the main hall when I asked, trying to keep my tone light:

"Hey... Charlie doesn't know you're an exorcist, does she?"

Something shifted in her expression. Her voice softened, her steps grew hesitant.

"...No. At first, I was just scared to tell her—we barely knew each other. And now... now I'm ashamed. Ashamed I never said anything. That I lied."

I stopped and placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched—but didn't pull away. Just looked at me, part fear, part question.

"Listen," I said quietly, "Charlie's not the type to judge. She'll forgive you. Just be honest. You know she's gonna have questions—like, 'Why did Adam ask my girlfriend for a private chat?' Wouldn't it be better to tell her now, while nothing's broken yet?"

Silence. Then—a slight nod.

"You're right… it's just… scary. But I'll tell her. No more hiding."

I smiled gently and nudged her forward.

"Atta girl. And I'll go... get to know your charming housemates."

We stepped into the hall.

In the center, amid brightly colored chairs—some stained with what might've been blood, or jam—Charlie was animatedly chatting with a small group of residents. Her voice rang out like clinking glass—light, joyful.

(Author's note: a "glass harp" sounds amazing, by the way—look it up.)

But the second she saw us, her eyes locked on Vaggie. Her face lit up with a worried smile, and her pace quickened—almost a run.

"Vaggie! Are you okay? Everything alright?" Her voice brimmed with concern, genuine and warm. Though she kept throwing glances my way.

"I'm fine," Vaggie replied quickly, and after a brief look at me, added more softly, "But we need to talk. Alone. There's something... important I have to tell you."

Charlie hesitated for a second, then nodded without question.

"Of course. Come on."

They headed off—back the way we'd come. Do they have a meeting room back there or something?

I turned toward the group of sinners. All four froze the moment I moved.

Their eyes lit me up like floodlights—curious and suspicious.

First, a tiny cyclops girl. One massive eye, its pupil twitching and pulsing like it was looking for something to sink into. Hair wild, one hand clutching something like scissors—but clearly not for paper. Her grin was... creepy. Wide. Like the face on an exorcist's mask—pure teeth. Niffty.

On a barstool lounged a feminine guy with a chest, two pairs of arms—one lazily draped over the back of the chair, the other gesturing with theatrical flair. His face was flawless, carefully sculpted, voice dripping honey—though there was venom in the sweetness. His lashes batted, gaze playful but sharp. He never stopped throwing jabs at the guy beside him. Angel Dust.

Next to him slouched a huge, cat-like demon, arms folded on the counter. Gray fur, wings tucked back like they hadn't been used in years. His face screamed "kill me." A mix of apathy, contempt, self-loathing. He sipped booze straight from the bottle. His eyes were narrow, but when he looked up at me—I caught a spark. Maybe just a remnant of something that used to burn.

Yeah, Alastor—I mean you, you mother-crusher. Husk.

And finally, the jittery snake perched quietly in an armchair. Tall, scaly, and accompanied by... eggs. Several odd, twitching, legged eggs. Now that I think of it—wasn't one of them at the Council meeting? Or... wasn't it? Hm. Sir Pentious.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Adam," I said with a polite smile, ignoring the ridiculous eggs. Not exactly top-tier conversationalists. Though one of them might have tried to nod. Or was that a seizure?

"HMM! You look suspiciously clean. Possibly a spy. Or worse... a reformer. Troops! Line up!"

(Author's note: Hope you caught the nod to the St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre and religious wars. No? Then go to hell. Literally—they held the knight at the gate.)

The egg-squad lined up with goofy determination.

"Is he alright?" I asked, sliding onto the stool beside Angel.

Angel stifled a laugh and patted my shoulder.

"Oh, Pentious? He's fine. Bit of a weirdo, but harmless. I'm Angel, by the way. That grumpy cat's Husk—" he pointed—"and the googly-eyed one's Niffty."

Husk set down his empty glass—one he'd been polishing just for show—and kept his narrowed eyes on me.

"He's normal by Hell's standards," he muttered. "But you? Jury's still out."

Meanwhile, Niffty had floated up to my shoulder, buzzing like a microwave on high. Her eye pulsed wildly—and if I didn't know she was mostly harmless, I'd have already fried her with lasers until she was nothing but sizzle.

I gently picked her up, placed her back on the floor, and patted her head. Just in case. Gotta respect canon.

"YOU'RE PETTING ME?!" she shrieked, arching with joy. "Oh my gosh, I haven't cleaned anything in a whole minute! I'LL FIX THAT!"

And with that, she vanished—leaving behind a swirl of dust and confetti. Probably leftover from Pentious' one-week celebration or whatever. Honestly? This place is absurd.

Angel crossed one leg over the other, stretched dramatically, then snapped his fingers.

"Y'know, Adam, you look sexy. I'm intrigued. You got an hour to spare?"

I chuckled and shrugged.

"Sorry, man. All-natural and GMO-free—if you catch my drift."

Husk's scowl deepened.

"Great. Two cheerful idiots. What did I do to deserve this?"

Angel beamed—wide, wicked, and utterly fixated on me.

"Ooooh, now that's interesting," he purred, biting his lip and rolling his eyes so hard it probably made some dead director scream in theatrical agony. "All clean, all proper, stamped GMO-free... Oh honey, challenge accepted."

I just sighed. Yep. Here we go.

Husk groaned, rolled his eyes like it was déjà vu, and slammed down a glass of something murky and amber that smelled... suspicious.

"Knew today was gonna go to hell the second you walked in," he muttered, already bracing for the worst.

And Niffty… she was completely in her own world. She giggled merrily, spun around on the spot like a wound-up music box, then suddenly snatched a rag and began furiously rubbing the corner of a table that was already gleaming like a mirror. Too perfect to even bother with it further. But she rubbed. With passion. With a spark. I'll just assume she was relieving stress this way.

Pentious, meanwhile, was staging his own little hysteria in the vein of "I told you so":

"Cleanliness! Naturalness! Order! This cannot be a mere coincidence!" Paranoia rang in his voice; he ran back and forth, scribbled something in a notebook, and seemed to be secretly taking pictures of me from behind a column. "He's an agent of Heaven! An agent, I tell you!"

He was right. Almost. But he looked as if he'd been wearing a tinfoil hat for the past three years. I seriously began to doubt: is this a joke? A setup? Or is everything here really this unhinged?

"I'd say just boring," Angel Dust chuckled, his gaze slyly sliding over me. "But don't worry, we'll… cheer you up."

He bit his lip again, then slowly licked it. It looked... eloquent. Even threatening in places.

"So, are you checking in with us? Or do you have some business here?" Husk finally spoke, his voice slightly less accusatory, but with the same intonation. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, tilting his head. "You and Vaggie were whispering way too quietly. She usually likes to shout."

I took a sip from the glass Husk had placed, trying not to wince. It tasted like pure alcohol with a faint aftertaste of something nasty.

"Well…" I began lazily, still looking at Husk. "More like just dropped by for a visit. But also a little bit of business."

Husk snorted, but this time with a slight smirk, as if for the first time that day someone had sparked his interest.

Pentious, meanwhile, had already pulled a… helmet onto one of the eggs. Where he got it from is a philosophical question. The egg trembled like a soldier who'd seen a drunk general.

And at that very moment, when the whole scene reached the peak of idiotic schizophrenia – footsteps sounded.

Charlie appeared on the staircase.

Radiant with joy like the sun and holding Vaggie's hand.

Charlie saw me – and her eyes widened. She quickened her pace.

Vaggie hesitated, glancing at the group at the bar – especially at how Angel Dust, fingers laced, had rested his head on his hands and was dreamily staring at me, like a delicious piece of juicy steak... Brrr...

"Adam!" Charlie exclaimed, running up. "Sorry, we got a little delayed. I… was hoping you hadn't left yet."

I got off the barstool and inclined my head slightly, suppressing a small smirk:

"How could I leave without trying the local… cuisine?"

"Cuisine?" Vaggie huffed, now studying me attentively. "Are you talking about this swill? Or Angel?" she said jokingly, pointing at the said Angel.

I glanced in his direction, and he gave a playful little wave with his fingers.

"Just trying to understand how you guys are trying to change sinners here, that's all," I shrugged.

Charlie sighed – quietly, almost relieved, but a slight tension still flickered in her eyes.

"Well… how? They're already making great strides towards redemption."

"Well…" I glanced sideways towards the bar, where Niffty was trying to scrub the air (literally), Husk was sipping from his bottle, trying to find salvation in alcohol, and Pentious… Pentious was arming eggs with makeshift weapons from cutlery... (weapons are forbidden in the hotel, so the snake was improvising as best he could; I don't know what I did to piss him off so much that he feels direct danger from me) – "Seems better than average sinners. But I'm no expert in this. Will you give me a tour?"

(Author's Note: Remember that downed airship from the first chapters? Well, Pentious remembers. And not just the event itself, but that strange, bone-chilling energy signature. He felt it in all its glory back then.)

"Of course!" Her face lit up. "I'd be only too happy!"

A sigh full of tragedy and vulgarity sounded from behind:

"It's always like this," Angel drawled, theatrically leaning back in his chair. "The moment you find an interesting man, the ladies arrive… and ruin everything."

"Get lost already, before Pentious starts building a fort out of stools," Husk grumbled without looking up.

"ALREADY STARTED! HOLD THE FLANK, EGGS!" yelled the snake from the corner, where knives, forks, and one poor toaster began to transform into some kind of taser or something similar. Pure mad genius.

Again, this snake is at least a hundred years old, and he behaves like… A child. At best. What nonsense is this?

I just shrugged and followed Charlie. Passing Vaggie, I caught her eye – this time, it was grateful.

Glad my advice helped her so easily get rid of all sorts of problems in her relationship.

And so I left the hall.

And behind me remained:

an angel-exterminator exiled from Heaven,a mad serpent with an army of eggs,a cyclops-girl with purely maniacal tendencies,a cat-bartender whose life went down his throat and didn't stop,and a spider-pornstar who, I suspect, already had plans for my Sunday.

Yes.

Hell, as always, greeted me… in its own way.

Interlude

POV Vaggie

Ever since the day Charlie returned after meeting Adam, I couldn't shake off an anxious feeling. Something was wrong. I knew him too well to believe Charlie's words. Adam wasn't one to listen. He wasn't one to give chances. He mocks, humiliates. And is always sure he's right.

Charlie said the conversation wasn't easy, but it ended on a positive note – apparently, Adam understood her, agreed to support the project, and even called her idea of redemption worthy. But it sounded… false. Not in his character. Especially knowing how he treated all sinners.

I'd seen it before. Too closely. Too often. And so, every mention of Adam from Charlie's lips hit me like a knife, but I tried to keep a straight face, to smile, to pretend everything was normal. But inside, I felt like I was bursting – a mixture of fear, hatred, and something I couldn't identify.

And then one day, on a perfectly ordinary day, when everyone in the living room was playing another one of Charlie's games – something like therapy and moral confession all in one – there was a knock on the door.

Not Alastor. He wouldn't knock. Or he'd just appear out of nowhere.

A new guest?

I stood up. Walked over. Opened the door.

A young man stood there. Fair skin, dark chestnut hair swept back, and piercing golden eyes really made him stand out.

He was dressed in a white suit with gold trim on the lapels and cuffs (Author's note: writing makes me google all sorts of things ten times a chapter). A golden shirt was visible under his jacket. He wore white gloves that reached his elbows. His expression was calm and slightly arrogant.

"Who the hell are you?" My voice was sharp, laced with threat. I open the door a little wider, instantly thrusting my spear forward.

"Oh, Vaggie, have I changed so much that you don't recognize me?" came the soft reply, with a barely noticeable falseness in its intonation. A slight smile, a hint of sad regret.

Don't recognize him? I froze. Staring, as if scanning his face, his voice, every fold in his clothes. And then, recognition flashed sharply.

"Adam?.." I barely exhaled, as if the name itself escaped before my mind could comprehend it.

My hand trembled.

"Precisely," he answered with a slight, self-satisfied smirk. "I'd like to talk to you alone, if you don't mind?"

I tensed.

"Why did you come here?" My voice trembled with uncertainty, but it was firm. "If you hurt Charlie, then…"

"I said I wanted to see you," he interrupted evenly, calmly, as if everything was already decided. "So be a dear and show your guest to a room. Okay?"

I was about to object when Charlie appeared from behind her.

He looked at us. Calmly. Almost with a kind smile. And slowly waved his hand, as if it were… normal. As if everything was fine.

I froze. Everything inside me clenched, but I didn't allow myself to take a step back or even glance away. I just gripped the doorknob tighter.

"Adam?" Charlie's voice sounded so surprised, as if she'd seen an old friend.

"Yes, yes, hello, Princess," he replied, tilting his head with that same smirk I remember all too well. "I just dropped by for a visit; you don't mind if I steal your irresistible girlfriend for a few minutes?"

I felt Charlie shift her gaze to me. A question in her eyes. Innocent, almost naive. Adam nodded, as if to emphasize – it's serious. Damn it.

I knew that look. Knew that tone. He wasn't asking. He was demanding. And I had nowhere to go. I took a short breath so I wouldn't tremble, and nodded.

"Well… if Vaggie doesn't mind..."

"Alright, Charlie, wait here. I'll be back soon," I heard my own voice, a little more muffled than I would have liked. I turned to him, made an inviting gesture.

We walked.

Each step echoed in my temples like a dull thud. Past the reception desk. Past the lobby, where the lamplight seemed too warm, almost deceptively cozy. Carved ceilings, heavy curtains, intricate patterns… It all seemed like a theatrical set, and I – an actress in his play.

Someone whispered. Watched. I felt the others' eyes on me but tried not to meet anyone's gaze. Just walked beside him, as if all this had been planned.

We passed the stage, where sometimes poems were read or psychedelic performances were held. Past the bar, where Husk usually drank gloomily. Past the kitchen and dining area, where someone had recently set off fireworks in the microwave.

We went up to the second floor. It was darker here. Quieter.

I stopped in front of one of the doors, the reading room, a place where we definitely wouldn't be disturbed.

Opened it.

And, silently, gestured him inside.

After he entered and settled into an armchair, I followed. I closed the door behind me and immediately felt an archangel's intense gaze upon me.

"Well then," he turned to me, "let's talk."

I didn't move from my spot. I wanted to keep my distance.

"And what do you want from me?" My voice didn't waver. I tried. I had trained too long not to show weakness. But inside, it was already raging – not fear for my life, no. Hatred, contempt, fear for Charlie.

He exhaled. I saw the feigned lightness leave his face.

"Sit down," he said. Softly. Almost tenderly.

I didn't move. My heart pounded, but my body remained motionless, as if frozen on the edge. Several long seconds – I sized him up, the room, the door… And finally, slowly, I sat down in the armchair opposite him.

"I'm listening."

He ran a hand over his face. Everything about him seemed to exude sorrow.

"Sigh... Promise you'll listen? To the end?"

I nodded cautiously.

"First... I want to apologize. I was wrong. Very wrong. I did something foolish – something I'm still ashamed of."

I listened but said nothing.

"I'm glad you found love. Truly. But... it pains me that I caused you so much pain. And I'm ashamed. Forgive me, Vaggie."

Silence. My old friend. But even she seemed too loud this time. I didn't believe it. I couldn't let myself believe it right away. I watched – intently, warily.

"I'd like to help you with Charlie. I understand it won't change anything. I'm not trying to atone for my guilt with grand gestures. It's just... I want to help. And also..." he hesitated. I felt something important was coming. "I wanted to offer you a return to Heaven. To give you back your wings and eye."

I froze. It was a blow. Too direct, too frank. Pain, doubt, a furious resentment flared up all at once.

"What do you want from me? What do you need from Charlie?" My voice trembled. I no longer tried to hold it back.

He shook his head.

"Nothing. Not from you, not from her. I just... I can't watch everything fall apart anymore. I'm not a demon, Vaggie. And not a sinner. I sincerely believed we were doing the right thing. But I was mistaken. And now I understand how deeply."

I gripped the armrests. My whole body tensed, my heart beat even faster.

"...And you think I'll believe you?" I whispered. Steel rang in my voice. "After everything you did to me? And all because I couldn't kill a child?"

I stood up. Hotly, sharply. Everything that had been boiling up burst forth.

"For that, you ripped out my wings. For that, you gouged out my eye and left me to die. In Hell!"

He jumped up. I recoiled. No, not scared – more like instinctively shielding the door, because somewhere there, behind it, was Charlie.

He approached. Quietly. Slowly. And suddenly – knelt.

I froze. I... didn't know how to process it. My brain refused to comprehend – he, the one who had done all this to me… was kneeling. Before me.

"Vaggie..." his voice trembled, "I admit my guilt. I'm not seeking forgiveness. I'm asking – don't hold evil in your heart. Even if you don't let go of the resentment, don't cling to hatred. I deserved it. But you… you deserve peace. Light. Love."

I couldn't speak. Misunderstanding reigned within me.

"Get up… please," I exhaled. Not believing I'd said it myself.

It was as if a crack had opened, and everything I had kept under lock and key for so long came pouring out.

I couldn't hold it back. Tears streamed down. I pressed myself against the wall, curled up as if from a blow.

He approached. And hugged me.

I didn't resist.

I trembled. My body betrayed me, didn't obey. Tears flowed endlessly, and I couldn't stop them.

He stroked me. Paternally, lovingly, like before.

And suddenly – I felt it. Something changed.

A light movement of air. Behind me. Subtle, cautious. I remembered that feeling, wings.

I pulled away. Took a step. Looked up. Two eyes. I had two eyes again.

"You… you gave me back my eye and wings?" My voice trembled.

He shook his head. Gently.

"No. I only patched up your eye. As for the wings… they decided it was time themselves. Apparently, someone inside you also believed you were worthy of them again."

I blinked in confusion. And then... allowed myself to smile. Just a little. But genuinely.

"Thank you. You… you seem different. Calmer. Softer."

"Well, of course. I told you: I realized I was wrong," he took my hands. "I'm glad you're alright. And that you're smiling."

I nodded. Felt something inside me shift. A little.

"So you… you only came for this? Or do you have other reasons?"

He smirked. Tilted his head, like before.

"Well… to be honest, I wouldn't mind a little tour of your charming establishment. And, perhaps, you'll tell me exactly how you plan to rehabilitate sinners. You can even sing it."

I rolled my eye, but the corners of my lips twitched. It seems he really has changed.

"Well, alright… Sir," I don't know what to call him now, after everything I've been through.

He laughed:

"Not 'Sir.' You're on vacation now. So – just Adam."

"Alright, Adam…" I said. And for the first time in a long while, there was no pain or resentment in my voice. Only lightness. And, perhaps… forgiveness.

After some time, we left the reading room.

The air in the corridor was cool.

I walked beside Adam, but no longer with that frozen lump of resentment in my chest. The tension was gradually easing, and my voice sounded calmer. I told him about life here – how we manage, who does what, how Charlie tries every day, how she hopes everything will work out.

This hotel… it had become more than just a home for me. It had become a chance to start over.

"Amazing," he said, raising an eyebrow, "you forgave me so quickly. Though I can't even forgive myself."

I chuckled slightly.

"Well… you weren't like yourself," I replied and shrugged. A sad smile found its way to my lips. "Like your old self."

"Ha. Fair enough."

We had almost reached the main hall when he spoke again. Casually, it seemed – but I knew that tone. He always led up to something important that way.

"Listen… Charlie doesn't know you're an Exorcist, right?"

I stumbled – not with my feet, but with my thoughts. My heart skipped a beat for a fraction of a second.

"…No," I answered quietly. "At first, I was afraid to tell – I didn't know her well. And now… now I'm just ashamed. Ashamed I didn't tell her sooner. That I lied."

He stopped. I felt his hand on my shoulder. Warm. Not threatening. But still… still a part of me tensed up. The memories were still vivid. But I didn't pull away. Just looked at him – into his eyes. As if searching there for at least a drop of the sincerity I had heard in his voice.

"Listen," he said, almost in a whisper, "Charlie isn't like other sinners. She'll forgive. Just tell her everything honestly. You know she's bound to have questions: 'Why did Adam ask my girlfriend for a private talk?' Wouldn't it be better to tell her everything now, before anything is ruined?"

I nodded. Slowly. Deep inside, everything twisted into a knot. Words got stuck in my throat. It was scary. But he was right. How long could I live in the shadows? Deceive the person closest to me?

"You're right… it's just… scary. But I'll tell her. Enough hiding."

He smiled gently and gave me a slight push forward.

"Attagirl. And I'll go… get acquainted with your 'lovely' inhabitants for now."

We entered the hall.

Colorful armchairs, splattered with something strange (looks like Angel Dust threw ice cream again and ran off to his "work").

When Charlie saw us, she immediately came towards me. Almost ran – and her face lit up with an anxious but warm smile.

"Vaggie! Well, how are you? Is everything alright?"

God, how sweetly she worries. And how painful it is to think I've been lying to her for so long. I nodded, forced a smile.

"Everything's fine," I answered quickly. And then… I made up my mind. "But we need to talk. Alone. Please. There's something… important I have to tell you."

She froze. Just for a moment. And then nodded:

"Of course. Let's go."

We headed back. To where I had recently allowed myself to cry; I hope this time it will be without tears…