Chapter 29

Experiments with the concepts of Light, the creation of a personal laboratory in the style of Star Wars – all of it was incredibly captivating. I felt like a creator, a demiurge, almost a god, capable of changing reality with the power of thought. But even the most exciting research sooner or later runs into the need for… well, let's say, field tests. My main, almost obsessive idea of late – the possibility of "forcible redemption," or rather, forced "cleansing" or transformation of souls – required material. Sinners. Many sinners.

Studying Paimon's Grimoire gave me an understanding of the mechanisms of Dark magic, and experiments with Light showed that I could adapt these techniques, replacing the power source. Theoretically, I could try to "burn out" the Darkness from a sinner's soul, replacing it with Light. Sounds like madness? Perhaps. But wasn't everything that had happened to me since awakening in Adam's body madness? And the very idea of the Hazbin Hotel – no less madness, just served with a sauce of the naive optimism of Hell's princess.

After the obvious failure with the "redemption" of demons (these creatures are initially woven from Darkness; trying to change them is like asking fire to become water), all hope rested on the souls of former humans. Those who once knew Light, even if they had forgotten it, exchanging it for fleeting sinful pleasures. So, it was time to visit Hell again.

Naturally, appearing there in my true form or even in my usual demonic guise was the height of idiocy. An archangel with golden wings strolling through Pentagram City is like a nuclear warhead at a children's matinee. Too recognizable, and I would attract too much unwanted attention. I needed a new image. A disguise. The idea came on its own, inspired by recent nightmares and the strange abilities, fragments of someone else's memory, that awakened with them. "God of water"... Why not?

In my new laboratory, gleaming with the soft light of the stars and nebulae I had created, I focused. Light enveloped my body, obediently changing it according to my mental command. My hair grew longer, gathered into a high, careless ponytail in an Asian style, and acquired a deep, blue-black hue, almost like that Godkiller from the dream, only with a deep blue sheen at a certain angle. My eyes changed their golden color to a piercing blue, cold as the depths of the ocean. Skin… here I had to think. Leave it pale, like his? Too obvious. I gave it a rich red hue, like many imp sinners or some other demonic races – it would be easier to get lost in the crowd that way. Horns. Of course, horns. Where would one be without them in Hell? I formed short, slightly backward-curving, almost black horns – not too flashy, but demonic enough.

I formed the clothes based on memories of what I wore when I was a "god." Black, thick trousers tucked into high army boots. A black jacket of a leather-like material with a high collar, cinched at the chest with several Sam Browne belt-style straps with red inserts, and a kimono-style cloak. Practical, not too flashy for Hell, a bit of military style, and it conveyed the image I needed. I left my wings as they were last time – large, leathery, like a bat's, dark gray, almost black. The final touch – to saturate the aura around me with a dense cocoon of Light. I don't want to start tripping out and descending into uncontrolled aggression again, do I? A check in the mirror. Turned out pretty well. A completely different person looked back at me from the reflection. Or rather, not a person. A sinner. A gloomy, red-skinned, blue-eyed sinner with demonic features and a strange aura. Just what I needed.

I open a portal. The golden glow of the rift momentarily illuminates the sterile whiteness of the laboratory, then changes to the crimson reflections of Hell's "sky." A step – and I find myself in a stinking, trash-filled alley somewhere in the very heart of Pentagram City. The portal behind me silently collapses.

It seems this place isn't the worst in Hell – eternal parties, booze flowing like a river, brothels on every corner, freedom of morals taken to an absurd extreme. Live it up! But for some reason, this "freedom" invariably results in the same thing: filth, violence, betrayal, corpses in the streets, and an all-pervading sense of hopelessness. Why the hell can't sinners actually stop doing this crap? Aren't they sick of it themselves? Even Lucifer, as I learned from Adam's memory, in his time (even before the War) gave them many opportunities to redeem their sins, tried to somehow ennoble Hell, to create at least some pockets of… well, not culture, but at least a semblance of civilization. And what was the result? The first time a sinner was officially redeemed (Sir Pentious) was ten and a half thousand years after that place opened! Ten thousand years!!! Brilliant. No wonder Lucifer eventually gave up on everything and fell into depression and making rubber ducks. One can understand him. But forgive him – that's difficult.

The air here was thick and heavy, as if it could be cut with a knife. It was saturated with miasmas of sulfur, rot, cheap alcohol, lust, blood, and… despair. Yes, despair. It hung in the air like an invisible shroud, settled on the walls of buildings, ate into the souls of sinners. The sky was covered with an eternal crimson haze through which the sun never broke. The streets teemed with sinners of all sorts – ugly, distorted creatures, chimeras of flesh, bone, and pure Darkness, who were once human, now resembling living nightmares out of Bosch. Screams, wild curses, drunken hysterical laughter, the sounds of brutal fights and disgusting copulations right on the sidewalks – all this merged into a single, deafening infernal roar. Chaos in its purest form.

I walked through the streets, trying not to stand out from the crowd of these creatures, although my relatively "human" appearance still attracted some glances – mostly curious or lustful. I carefully scanned the surrounding space with my Light, looking for suitable "candidates" for my experiments. I needed not just sinners, but those in whose souls at least some spark still flickered… of what? Remorse? Hope? Humanity? Or, conversely, the most inveterate bastards, walking embodiments of sin, to test the limits of possible "redemption" on the most difficult cases. I didn't know yet which approach would be more effective.

I trudged along the dirty, sticky sidewalks, past screaming neon signs of brothels and bars promising every imaginable and unimaginable vice. Past sinners fighting near overflowing garbage cans, tearing each other apart over some trifle. Past decomposing corpses that no one paid attention to – a commonplace sight. Disgust and a sense of revulsion rose within me in waves, but I suppressed them by willpower. This is the reality of Hell. This is the result of the free choice of billions of souls. And, perhaps, the result of Eve's evil will, who benefits from this eternal cauldron of suffering and vice. Pondering this, I became more and more convinced that the Seraphim, with their "non-interference" and belief in "good," looked simply like pathetic idiots against the backdrop of this universal clusterfuck. I understand their reasons, but something has to be done!

Suddenly, my attention was drawn by a noise from a neighboring, particularly dark and stinking alley – sounds of a fierce struggle, hoarse curses, and… a familiar high-pitched, slightly mannered, capricious voice, shouting very inventive curses. Curiosity got the better of me, and, trying to move silently, I peeked around the corner.

The picture was sickeningly banal for this place. A tall, effeminate spider-like demon in pink – there was no doubt, it was Angel Dust – was fighting off three huge, ugly, hulking sinners. Some kind of hybrids of a boar, an ogre, and a sewer rat, all in dirty rags and with lewd grins on their faces. It looked like they were trying to either rob him or rape him (or both at once, the standard entertainment set of the local "gentlemen"). His submachine guns, which he usually carried, were lying on the ground, covered in dirt – apparently, they had been knocked out at the very beginning of the scuffle. Angel could only fight back with his numerous limbs, using agility and speed, but there were three attackers, they were larger and clearly stronger. They were pushing him towards a blank, graffiti-covered wall.

And how could I just walk past after this? I am Adam – an archangel of God (albeit in a sinner's disguise)! And here was a perfect situation: save the "damsel" (well, almost) and get a couple of excellent specimens for experiments. A simply magnificent coincidence! Fate is clearly smiling on me today.

I confidently stepped into the alley, crunching some trash under my boot.

"It seems, gentlemen, you've had some… disagreements?" my voice sounded deliberately calm, even slightly bored, but with icy undertones that made all four of them turn sharply.

The three brutes stared at me with dull bewilderment on their ugly mugs, clearly not understanding who I was and what the hell I was sticking my nose into. Angel Dust also looked at me in surprise, his numerous eyes (how many does he have? six? eight?) blinking incredulously. He clearly didn't recognize me in my new guise. Excellent.

"Hey, blue-haired dick, who the fuck are you?!" barked one of the attackers, the largest one, with tusks protruding from his maw. "Can't you see, this is a private party for adults! Fuck off while you're still in one piece!"

"I'm afraid your 'private' party is disturbing my peace of mind and offending my aesthetic sense," I replied with lazy mockery, crossing my arms over my chest. "And I categorically dislike it when three attack one. Even if that one is… this sort of misunderstanding in pink," I nodded vaguely at Angel, who immediately feigned indignation.

"Hey! I'm actually a world-class porn star! And a style icon! Not a 'misunderstanding'!" the spider pouted capriciously, adjusting his bow tie, simultaneously trying to reach for an iron pipe, unnoticed by the boar-morons.

"What did you say, you asshole?! Who are you yapping at?! We'll show you now!" roared the brute and clumsily rushed at me, swinging his huge fists. I didn't even flinch. I just raised my hand, palm forward, concentrating Light and remembering that dream about Tatsumi. A wall of water, materializing literally out of thin air (though actually from Light that had taken the form of water), hit the charging sinner with a roar and the force of a hydraulic press. He was thrown against the opposite wall of the alley with such force that he literally embedded himself in the brickwork, emitting a wet crunch of breaking bones. The other two attackers froze in shock, stupidly staring at their flattened comrade, then at me.

"Water treatments are very useful for cooling excessive ardor," I remarked just as calmly, lightly flicking invisible droplets from my hand. "Who's next to freshen up? The line is currently open."

Those two exchanged glances, primal fear flickering in their dull eyes. Apparently deciding that messing with a red-skinned water mage was more trouble than it was worth, they, muttering something, turned and bolted, stumbling over trash. I didn't pursue them – why bother? But when they disappeared around the corner, I, unnoticed by Angel, created three small portals right under their feet and under the poor fellow still plastered against the wall. A second – and all three disappeared with a soft pop, transported directly to individual stasis chambers in my new laboratory in the pocket dimension. Excellent specimens for experiments! Cruel, aggressive, lustful – clearly hardened sinners. Just what the doctor ordered.

"Wow! Holy shit!" Angel Dust whistled, approaching me and shamelessly looking me up and down from head to toe with unconcealed curiosity (and that same blatant desire in his eyes). "You're cool, blue-eyes! What kind of water tricks are those? Are you like, a Vodyanoy from Russian fairy tales? Or Poseidon on a budget? Thanks, of course, for chasing off those morons. They were really getting on my nerves today."

"It wasn't difficult," I replied evasively, mentally dispelling the protective dome of Light (which I had put up just in case) around myself. Keeping it up constantly is hard, but in predictably dangerous situations, why not? "Call me Baal." (I had checked, and there was no such name among the "cool" demons, but it was part of my nickname from my past life: Baal Zebub, or Beelzebub).

(Author's note: Baal is in the list of Goetia demons. But it's such a mess there: there are like 20 kings alone. In short, fuck him)

"Baal? Mmm, sounds exotic! And very sexy!" he winked playfully at me with all his eyes. "I'm Angel Dust, but you seem to know that already since you saved my precious ass. To what do I owe such a dramatic rescue, handsome? Looking for some hot fun in our modest but wicked city? I can offer an exclusive program, just for you, at a discount! Hmm?"

"No, thank you, I'm looking for something else," I tried to speak as coldly and distantly as possible to discourage him from continuing this flirting I had no fucking use for. It didn't work well – the spider seemed to take coldness as a challenge. "I'm looking for a place… where they help those like us. Sinners. I heard there's a certain hotel here…"

"The Hazbin Hotel?!" Angel's eyes lit up with genuine interest and surprise. "You mean that place? Ha! Did another weirdo decide to sign up for sainthood? Then that's right up your alley! I was just heading there myself until those scumbags latched onto me with their dirty paws. Wanna go together? I can get to know my hero better! And I'll introduce you to our fun crew! I'm sure Charlie will be absolutely thrilled with a new… ahem… resident? Or guest? Or whoever you are, my mysterious man?"

Hmm. Why not? To see this Hotel from the inside, not as the formidable Archangel Adam, but as a potential resident or just a guest. To assess the situation from within, so to speak. To observe the "redemption process" live. And the pretext "looking for help for sinners" sounded plausible enough for my new image of a "mysterious guy with water magic." Besides, I'm genuinely interested in how the "redemption" is progressing for Pentious and others, and how exactly it even works according to Charlie. To look for patterns, to derive statistics. That's unlikely to work with such a motley crew, but it's interesting, isn't it? In a pinch, I'll have access to sinners who actually have some chance of reforming. Or at least pretend to.

"Alright, Angel. Lead the way. Let's see your Hazbin Hotel; I'm curious to take a look at this… establishment."

We left the alley and headed through the noisy, dirty streets of Pentagram City. Angel chattered nonstop about all sorts of nonsense – his "work," the hotel, its inhabitants, the latest gossip, periodically making very risqué jokes and hints in my direction, which I steadfastly ignored, maintaining a mask of cold indifference (Althrow Internally I Almost Laughed a couple of times at his directness). He jostled, gestured with all four hands, made eyes at me, and generally behaved like… well, like Angel Dust. Finally, we approached a large, slightly ridiculous, but definitely memorable building with a huge flashing sign "Hazbin Hotel." Nothing much had changed since my last visit, except that one of the walls had been rebuilt, but it wasn't very noticeable.

Pushing open the heavy front doors, we went inside. The same spacious but slightly dusty lobby with high ceilings, carved columns, and whimsical furniture. And… a little cyclops girl… Niffty. She was chasing some particularly large hell-cockroach with a wild shriek and a maniacal smile, brandishing a knife, while it fled from her with inhuman speed. It seems she has her own war going on here. But the proprietress of the establishment was already hurrying towards us, beaming her unchanging optimistic smile.

"Angel! You're finally back! I was so worried! Are you alright?" Charlie rushed to the spider with a hug, immediately noticing his disheveled appearance and torn clothes. "And who's this with you? A new friend? Oh, hello! I'm Charlie, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!"

Vaggie immediately appeared beside her. She eyed me with extreme suspicion from head to toe, her hand habitually resting on the spear behind her back. It seemed she didn't recognize me either. Perfect.

"Hey there, Charlie! You're my sweetheart!" Angel familiarly hugged the princess back. "Don't worry, everything's peachy! I'm perfectly fine, thanks to this guy!" he pointed a finger at me. "Meet Baal! He just saved my fluffy ass from some nasty thugs! Can you believe it, he controls water! Like Aquaman, only cooler! He said he's looking for a place that helps sinners, so I dragged him here! True, he's not very talkative and kinda cold, but maybe you can melt him, princess?"

"Oh! Saved Angel? That's so noble, Mr. Baal!" Charlie beamed even brighter, her eyes shining with genuine delight. She stepped towards me and enthusiastically extended her hand. "We are exactly that place where sinners can find the path to redemption! I'm Charlie Morningstar - the manager of this hotel! Very, very pleased to meet you!"

"Baal," I replied curtly, carefully shaking her warm, soft hand. A strange but powerful aura emanated from her – a mixture of naive childish optimism, colossal demonic power like her father's, and something else… light? Pure? Astonishing. Last time, I didn't really understand the subtleties of local magic and didn't feel anything like this, but now… it was obvious. I wonder where the princess of Hell got such a bright spark? From Lilith or Lucifer? Or… is she like this on her own?

"Who are you? And what do you really want here? We don't just accept anyone, especially suspicious types like you," Vaggie coldly interrupted our exchange of pleasantries, not lowering her spear and not taking her eyes off me. It seemed she didn't like my behavior. Or my appearance. Or all of it together.

"I'm looking for answers," I replied evasively, looking her straight in the eyes, trying to appear calm and unperturbed. "I haven't been in Hell long. I'm studying this… world. Your hotel seemed like an interesting experiment to me. A place where something… unusual might happen."

"An experiment?!" Vaggie exclaimed indignantly, ready to pounce on me with her spear, but Charlie stopped her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Vaggie, calm down! Please! Mr. Baal is our guest! He saved Angel! We must be hospitable! Not everyone understands our goal right away!" she turned to me with a disarming smile. "Tell us about yourself, Baal! Where are you from? What do you do? Why did you decide to come to us specifically?"

Before I could come up with a sufficiently convincing and not too suspicious lie, a familiar voice, driving simple souls mad, full of static crackle and ancient, inhuman amusement, sounded from the shadows in the corner of the hall:

"O-o-oh! We have a newbie! And what an interesting specimen has graced us with his presence! Curious! Exceedingly curious!"

Alastor emerged from the shadows. The Radio Demon. With an unchanging, eerie smile stretched to his ears. His red eyes studied me intently, almost predatorily. Damn. It seems he managed to recognize me. Or, at least, sensed something familiar and very powerful under my disguise. I wonder how exactly? Did my Light shield fail? Or is it related to his Loa spirits that give him such strange abilities?

"Alastor! You're sneaking out of the shadows again! You scared me!" Charlie exclaimed playfully. "Meet Baal! He just helped Angel! Can you imagine?"

"Baal? What a lovely, sonorous name!" Alastor elegantly inclined his head, his smile widening even further, almost grotesquely, but his eyes were cold and penetrating, scanning me. "Delighted to welcome you to our humble but enthusiastic establishment, dear Baal! I am Alastor, the local… let's say, helper around the house and occasional radio host. A pleasure to meet you!" he extended his thin, pale, clawed hand to me. I returned the handshake, feeling the cold emanating from him. "Tell me, what has brought such… a unique creature to our forsaken place? Surely not a search for redemption, I dare presume? Ha-ha-ha!" his laughter sounded like static on an old record.

"I am looking for opportunities, Alastor," I replied evenly, meeting his gaze. It seems he didn't recognize me after all. "And paths. Your hotel seemed like one of the curious paths to me."

"Paths? And where does this path lead, if I may be so curious?" he tilted his head slightly, his smile unwavering, but a sharp interest flickered in his eyes.

"To where one can find answers. And change the rules of the 'game'," I answered enigmatically, deciding to play along with his manner. Let him guess now who I am and why I'm here.

Alastor fell silent for a second, his smile frozen. I could almost physically feel his mind trying to analyze my words, my aura, my essence. He understood something. Or sensed it.

"Well, Baal," he drawled at last, "I hope you enjoy your stay with us. I'm sure you'll find many… interesting things here. Perhaps even more than you're looking for. Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!" and he made a sweeping, inviting gesture with his hand towards the living room.

I nodded, trying to maintain an unperturbed expression, although the encounter with Alastor had made me tense up internally. His Loa spirits still worry me.

Charlie immediately took my arm and enthusiastically dragged me off to show me the hotel, chirping about rules, daily routines, and the successes of their residents in "redemption." Vaggie followed hot on our heels, still throwing suspicious glances at me. Angel Dust walked beside us, continuing to crack his jokes and make eyes at me. And Alastor… Alastor remained in the lobby, seeing me off with his unchanging, eerie smile. I felt his gaze on my back.

The tour ended with Charlie assigning me one of the vacant rooms on the top floor. The room was… well, in the hotel's style. A bit dusty, with slightly shabby furniture, but spacious and with a large window overlooking the eternally crimson sky of Pentagram City; from here, you could clearly see that very pentagram that trapped sinners here – Lucifer's work. Thanking Charlie and assuring her that I liked everything very much, I closed the door behind her.

First things first – security. I quickly went through the room, placing invisible protective seals of Light on the door, window, and walls. No one should enter here without my knowledge or eavesdrop. Then I sat on the bed and thought.

So, I'm in the Hazbin Hotel. Undercover. My goal is to study the possibility of "cleansing" sinners. But how? Just observe Charlie's "brilliant" ideas? And how long will that take? Half a year? A year? Ten years? No, I need to study those sinners, and then think about how to influence someone like Angel. Only, if I just burn out the darkness, I'm more likely to drive him crazy than help him.

Maybe try to influence not directly with force, but with… emotions? Light can not only burn, but also… heal? Inspire? Awaken something good? I remembered how my Light influenced Carmilla, how she began to change, just by being in Heaven, seeing a different life. Maybe it's about the environment? The atmosphere?

But on whom among them to experiment? Someone I wouldn't mind "breaking"... What unnatural thoughts for me, though. Damn strange memory from a past life, it's infuriating. And I thought I wasn't like that in those memories. Hmm…

Maybe Niffty? She's strange enough not to be afraid of "breaking" her personality. Or… try something completely different. The idea flashed suddenly, almost frighteningly. What if… I try not just to pour in Light, but… to create a semblance of "paradise" for a sinner? Using conceptual magic to create an illusory space filled with Light, peace, goodness – and see how the sinner's soul reacts to it? Will it be able to remember something good? Will it want to change?

Sounds like a crazy but intriguing experiment. But for that, I need to somehow create such a place. If I remodel my personal dimension, the laboratory will simply disappear, as will the cosmos. Then maybe try to create a separate space, within a space? Analogous to the circles of Hell.

Sounds interesting.

A laugh echoed in the room, atypical for Adam. Droplets of madness slipped into it.