Hell en Pointe | Alastor ✓

chapter 2

It was scaldingly hot out there.

As you walked down the street of the city, people cowered when they saw you and not a single one dared to look you in the eye. You exhaled deeply out of your nostrils. You reveled in their fear, absolutely loved it. But sometimes you did wish you had a friend or two.

Soon, after taking a couple of cabs with drivers shaking in their seats and their voices croaking when they asked you a question, you wound up somewhere foreign. You had never quite passed through here before. Or anywhere, for that matter. Aside from when you wanted a trip or had to attend an Overlord meeting, you never really left the south.

You climbed up a pathway to a sideways strewn building that looked rather raggedy and run down, but had a glowing sign at the top that read "Hazbin Hotel." Strange. A hotel in the middle of nowhere. This could be interesting.

Hoping you could find some people whose souls you could claim (it was always so satisfying and empowering to claim souls not even in your region) you chose to approach the building out of sheer curiosity. When you arrived at the doorstep, you knocked loudly.

"Hellooooo?" you called. "Anyone home?"

You're not sure why you even bothered. You were Miss Kitty. You could walk in if you pleased. However, you did recall you were in foreign territory in a very obvious tall-looking hotel that anyone could reside in, and it probably wouldn't be very smart to just go barging in not knowing who is inside.

"Co...ing!" hollered a bright, young woman's voice from inside. She sounded rather thrilled. Your heart beat grew. Maybe there's a party going on inside.

It was after four minutes that someone finally opened the door.

"Hello!" said the bright voice. It was a woman with pale white skin, rosy rouge cheeks, a button nose and long blonde hair with two black hair bands around it. She wore a red formal uniform that insisted she was either the owner of the hotel or the doorman.

She suddenly grew a little nervous, as if worried she seemed to enthusiastic. "I mean, uh, hi! Uhm, good evening! Uhhh..." She trailed off, her eyes wondering every which way.

"Hi, sugar," you greeted with a sultry smile. "Nice place you got here. Mind if I come in?"

As you gently pushed past her, itching to see the inside of the hotel, she rambled on excitedly.

"Oh, oh! You're southern? Like, from the south? You're an Overlord right?" She turned to the side with a hand cusping her chin, muttering to herself. "I can't believe an Overlord is here. What will Alastor think? On his territory? I hope he doesn't kill her." She turned back to you with a nervous grin. "Ah, welcome! Welcome to my Happy — I mean, the Hazbin Hotel!"

"Thank you," you said with a bashful smile. You were usually very confident and sure of yourself, but you felt shy around people who seemed to actually be good people.

"Charlie," said an Italian accent from afar. "Who's this?"

"This is uhhh..." "Charlie" said, glancing at the figure behind her. He emerged from the shadows. He was a tall, four-armed creature decorated with light pink fur. His full coat was white. You couldn't tell what the hell he was, but he was rather adorable, you must admit.

"Miss Kitty," a new voice purred. You turned your head and met eyes with your old acquaintance Husk. A grin spread across your face like wildfire.

"Husk, old buddy!" you cheered and jogged over to him. You embraced him and ruffled his head. You didn't have many friends (I mean like, none) but you had some acquaintances. You met Husk at a bar just on the border of the south months ago and saw him once every few weeks since then when you both simply just needed a drink.

"Good to see you too," he chuckled. You both departed from one another.

"Sorry," you chuckled, mindlessly stroking the ears atop your head. A habit. "The south still gets the best of me sometimes."

"Birds of a feather..." murmured the pink and white Italian, taking notice of the short ears on your head. He almost sounded... jealous? You ignored him.

"You mean that southern hospitality of yours?" chimed Husk. "Explains the random hug. Didn't take you for the touchy type."

"Only with people I like," you said gracefully with a smile.

"This 'southern hospitality' of yours must be from Earth," joined in the Italian, crossing his arms and walking forward to further join the conversation. "Not from southern Hell. Went there once to meet a guy for an out-of-town shoot. Never again."

"How do you mean?" you quirked a brow at the stranger.

He grinned, his smile curved and suggestive. His eyes grew cloudy. He placed a hand on his cheek and practically sung it out in delight: "Let's just say he was ratherrrr... rough."

"Ugh, Angel!" exclaimed Charlie, ruffling the hair covering her ears. Hm. She seemed so innocent.

"Angel?" you repeated. It was nice to put a name to a face. "I've heard of you. Angel Dust. Famous pornstar. Beautiful name, darlin.'" you complimented him.

His face turned pink, hardly noticeable because of the conflicting color scheme of his fur, but you caught his flattery. "Oh. Thank you."

You simply smiled in return. You were always very gracious and elegant with your demeanor and tone. When people of Hell would talk about you, they often said it was like you floated around, with your long legs and such. You were as "silent as a mouse and as deadly as a lion," was another common phrase.

Another girl entered, with long, straight grey hair in a style similar to yours with an exaggerated pink bow on the back. She wore simple red and black clothing with a short skirt. She had an 'X' over her eye, a mean glare, and a strange pattern on the ends of her long flowing hair.

"Babe," she said, her voice quiet but deadly. She addressed Charlie, but kept her eyes locked on you. "Who's the newcomer?"

You felt completely unthreatened by her and simply tilted your head and smiled warmly.

"Kitty or Miss Kitty will do," you said gently. You weren't fond of the name, finding it rather embarrassing in fact, but you would rather go by that than by your real name. It's a reminder to you that you're dead. That you're in Hell. And that sucks. If anyone were to call you by your real name, they would have to be really important to you. They would have to truly, truly mean something.

"[Y/NNNNNN]!" said a sickeningly cheerful radio-static voice.

Your blood ran cold. You know that voice. You know that voice very well. From Earth. The deal. It all came flooding back. You grit your teeth in anger.

It was him. The one who owned your soul.