Confronting Past Heavenly Wounds
Act I: Prehistoric Pandemonium
The atmosphere in the Hazbin Hotel lobby was always a unique blend of chaotic and exhausting, but today, Vaggie felt a specific, localized burn in her chest.
From a safe distance near the grand staircase, the ex-Exorcist stood with her arms tightly crossed, her single eye narrowed into a lethal slit. Her gaze was locked onto Adam. The First Man. The golden boy of Heaven turned foul-mouthed Sinner, courtesy of Niffty’s hyperactive knife skills.
But he wasn't screaming, strumming an obnoxious air guitar, or demanding an evaluation of his "massive hog." Instead, he was actually... vibing. With Rooster.
Rooster, a brightly feathered, avian Sinner whose brain chemistry seemed to consist entirely of childlike wonder and pure naiveté, was looking up at the former leader of the Exorcists with stars in his eyes. It made Vaggie’s stomach turn. For seven years, this man had spearheaded the systemic slaughter of thousands, loudly proclaiming he didn't give a single shit about erasing souls from existence. Yet here he was, treating a bird-brained Sinner with a softer touch than he had ever shown any of his soldiers in the dynamic, blood-soaked ranks of the Exorcist army.
"Wait, wait, wait," Rooster stammered, his wings fluttering with excitement as he digested Adam’s rambling tales of Earth's infancy. "So you’re telling me... dinosaurs were actually there? Like, hanging out with you in the Garden?"
Adam grinned, a smug, sharp expression that lacked its usual murderous edge. "You bet your feathered ass, bird boy. Look, the names everyone uses today? Total bullshit. Humans forgot the real ones post-flood—took 'em centuries to dig up the bones and piece it back together. But back in the day? I had a name for every single one of those giant bastards. And let me tell you, hand-feeding a T-Rex? Pure, unadulterated, badass perfection. You haven't lived until a thirty-foot apex predator takes a giant fern out of your palm like a good boy."
"Holy crap! The creationists were right!" Rooster gasped, clapping his hands together. "I gotta go tell Angel Dust!"
With the unbridled energy of a toddler who had just learned a forbidden secret from his grandpa, Rooster scampered off toward the lounge.
Adam watched him go, a rare, genuine smirk lingering on his face. For a fleeting second, it felt like the old days in Heaven—back when the Winners would crowd around him just to hear the First Man spin a yarn about the dawn of creation. It actually made him miss the golden gates. Just a little.
Then, the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. Vaggie marched into his peripheral vision, her face a mask of thunderous, judgmental fury.
Adam glanced over, his smile instantly curdling into a groan. "Oh, great. Look, Vagyna, what crawled up your woman-hole and died this time?"
"What the hell was that?" Vaggie demanded, her voice a low, dangerous hiss.
Adam picked at his ear with a pinky, completely unfazed. "What? I'm talking to the bird. Is there a rule against talking to poultry in this joint?"
"You were being nice to him!" Vaggie's hands flew to her hair, pulling at her bangs in sheer frustration. "He's a Sinner! One of the exact same people you were trying to brutally massacre less than two months ago! Where was that 'softness' when I was in your army, huh? You let Lute push us to the brink, tearing us down and violently disciplining anyone who showed even a flicker of weakness!"
"Yeah, it’s called training, babe," Adam rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "You gotta be tough as hell to survive down here, and Hell doesn't take prisoners. I was molding you into weapons."
"You let her mutilate me!" Vaggie shouted, her voice cracking as the ghost of an old pain flared in her missing eye. "You left me bleeding out in the dirt just because I spared an innocent child! I would have died if Charlie hadn't found me. She showed me what real mercy looks like. She gave me a life, a purpose, something worth fighting for outside of being a mindless soldier!"
Adam let out a loud, theatrical groan, rolling his eyes so hard it looked painful. "Ugh, honestly? I kind of wish Lute had finished the job, considering your 'new purpose' involved mowing down your own sisters-in-arms just to please your little nepo-baby sugar mama. And 'innocent kid'? Give me a break. You don't know who that brat was on Earth. Half the time, the 'kids' down here are just horrific scumbags who took a pint-sized form as a cosmic joke. But hey, great career pivot! You went from protecting innocent Winners in Heaven to playing lapdog for a pasty-faced, pacifist princess who coddles literal monsters."
"Shut the fuck up," Vaggie snarled, stepping up into his space. "You don't get to preach to me. You’re no different than the worst monsters in this pit."
Adam burst into a harsh, mocking laugh. "Oh, pot, meet fucking kettle! You cry about how me and Lute hurt you, but you smiled like a goddamn psycho when that freaky little cyclops maid turned my back into a pincushion! You fed my girls to cannibals, Vaggie. You don't hold the moral high ground. You just switched sides because Charlie gives you a shiny gold star and a pat on the head."
"It was self-defense! You wouldn't back down!"
"Yeah, and then you acted all high-and-mighty sparing me and Lute, but gave zero courtesy to the girls following orders," Adam retorted, his eyes flashing with sudden, dangerous heat. "You guys have this fake-ass sense of morality that only applies when you get hurt. If you actually had standards, you’d look around this dumpster fire of a hotel and ask who actually deserves a second chance. I mean, you’re rubbing elbows with a cannibal overlord who makes my body count look like a warm-up routine!"
He paused, rubbing his heart where Nifty had done her worst, before continuing his tirade.
"Even the ones I actually vibe with—Cherri, Husk, Angel, Baxter—they've all got a closet full of radioactive skeletons. Hell, Angel and Husk almost relapsed entirely because your girlfriend thought it was a brilliant idea to poke the Vees' nest! Rooster is the only one here who actually admits he’s a massive fuck-up. He gets why I hate this shithole, but he's still down to listen to my grand wisdom. He's real."
"See? Right there!" Vaggie pointed a rigid finger at him. "That’s the point! We’re trying to get people to change to prove that you and your entire bloodthirsty regime were wrong about them!"
Adam leaned down, looming over her with a nasty, knowing smirk. "You say that, Vagyna... but I don't see you making any friends. You don't connect with anyone here. Everything you do, everything you breathe, revolves around Charlie. The Sinners don't respect you, and honestly? You can barely stand them. You have the exact same contempt for them that I do, but you force yourself to swallow it because Charlotte wants to play house."
He chuckled darkly, a sound that grated on Vaggie's nerves like sandpaper.
"Heck, I bet half these guys can tolerate me better than you. Angel and Cherri definitely prefer a guy who speaks their language over a hall monitor who dresses up her hatred in a cute little uniform. I don't fake how I feel. It's weird, but they get it."
Desperate to rip the smirk off his face, Vaggie swung for the psychological fences. "You know what? I get it now. I see why Lucifer was totally justified in stealing both your wives. Dealing with a narcissistic, misogynistic, fragile pig like you? I'm glad he kicked your sorry ass off your pedestal."
The words left her mouth, and the temperature in the hallway plummeted to absolute zero.
Act II: The Weight of the Crown
Adam’s smirk vanished. The casual, lazy posture evaporated, replaced by the terrifying, suffocating aura of a former Archangel. A low, primal growl rumbled in his throat as his eyes glowed with an ominous, angelic light.
"You are treading on ice so thin it's practically vapor, you self-righteous cunt," Adam whispered, his voice vibrating with a ancient, venomous rage.
Vaggie took a half-step back, her hand instinctively reaching for the spear that wasn't there.
"You really want to play cheerleader for the guy who started this entire cosmic tire fire?" Adam stepped forward, forcing her to look up at him. "The guy who got humanity cursed in the first place because he was too much of a dense, delusional dumbass—just like his daughter—to think about the consequences? That piece of shit barely even remembers your name, and you're treating him like some misunderstood visionary just because you have a petty grudge against me."
He poked a heavy finger forcefully against her collarbone.
"Listen to me, sister. Every single drop of blood spilled, every ounce of torment in this pit, is because of his choices. And I had to these last couple of years cleaning up his fucking mess. Thinking he’s better than me just proves you’re a brainless sheep who can't think for herself. You don't love this place. You just hate Heaven."
Vaggie opened her mouth to shoot back, but the words trapped themselves in her throat.
"That's why you don't connect with the Sinners," Adam sneered, pulling back, the anger turning into cold, unadulterated disgust. "And that's why you want to see Heaven brought down, regardless of the innocent Winners up there who actually earned their peace. It all comes down to you. Your pride. Your desperate need to please your girlfriend, and damn anyone else who gets in the way. You know what? You really are just like the Apple Boy. Lucifer ruined everything because he wanted to impress Lilith. You're doing the exact same thing for his kid. Dwell on that before you act like you're better than me."
With a final, sharp scoff, Adam turned on his heel and stormed down the corridor, his heavy boots echoing off the walls before disappearing around the corner.
Act III: The Crimson Silence
The silence that followed was deafening. Vaggie stood frozen in the center of the hallway, her fist still clenched so tightly her knuckles bled white.
“You just hate Heaven more than you actually like being here.”
“You have the same amount of contempt I have for them.”
She wanted to scream. She wanted to summon her angelic spear and tear the walls of the hotel to bloody ribbons, if only to drown out the voice in her head telling her that the First Man wasn't entirely wrong.
She did struggle to connect with them. When she looked at Angel Dust, or Cherri Bomb, or the screaming hordes of Rosie’s cannibals, she didn’t see them through the hopelessly optimistic, rose-tinted lens that Charlie did. Vaggie saw liabilities. She saw violence, chaos, and the exact same ugly traits that had justified the Exterminations in her mind for years. She defended them, fought for them, and bled for them—but it was always for Charlie. Never truly for them.
Was she just a soldier who changed uniforms? Trading Lute's ruthless orders for Charlie's blind optimism?
Slowly, Vaggie walked over to the grand window, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. Below, in the courtyard, she could see Rooster animatedly gesturing with his wings, acting out a dinosaur fight while Angel Dust watched, looking thoroughly amused while holding Fat Nuggets.
For the first time since her fall, a sickening wave of genuine self-doubt washed over her. Adam was still an arrogant, mass-murdering, narcissistic prick. His sudden fondness for a bird Sinner didn't wash the blood of thousands off his hands.
But as she watched Rooster laugh, a realization struck her like a physical blow. If a soul as deeply corrupted, angry, and hateful as Adam could find a genuine, unforced connection with a Sinner... then maybe redemption wasn't just a fairytale Charlie made up.
But if Vaggie wanted to be a real part of it, she had to stop fighting out of hatred for her past, and start learning how to actually love the people she was trying to save.
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