Sin Underhell Chapter Two
Chapter 2; “The Hazbin Hotel”
November 2nd 2026 9:56 A.M. Frisk is still here. Still in Hell, still scared, still clutching that baseball bat in hand. The only thing that has changed since meeting Charlie is the slight solace that there is at least one demon in this hellish pit not wanting to kill them, one who is apparently a big enough fish that the odds of anyone attacking her being low. And the mask is neat. A bulbous humanoid skull mask fully encompassing Frisk’s head inside, one with a grimace of perfectly squared teeth shaped in a permanent grin, a soft glowing ring of blue light in the left socket giving the impression it only has one eye. Feels more like actual human bone than anything, a bit tight but at least it has enough holes where Charlie insisted that Frisk wear this out in the open from now on, not gonna argue with her on the matter.
As of now the two were walking down a particular barren part of this hellish city, a long stretch of damaged parking lot under two tumbled over skyscrapers haven collided into each other. Like two giant trees being melded and woven into a single “canopy”. It looks both solid as stone yet could collapse any moment. And looking a little further where the “canopy’s” shadow ends, one will see the edge of a plateau edge. And beyond that? Nothing. Nothing but a grey sky and barren crag wasteland that just goes on and on and on seemingly forever, for eternity, maybe for infinity. Quite the morose view for a most morose patch of nothing.
Charlie Morningstar;
“We’re here.”
Frisk looks around. Here at this bit of nothing.
Frisk;
“You said you had a hotel we could go to.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Well, close your eyes.”
Frisk;
“........”
Charlie Morningstar;
“C’mon, you can trust me. Just close your eyes and count to 3.”
The smile she was giving might as well be puppy dog eyes for how hard to refuse it was, Frisk bringing up their hands to their face.
Charlie Morningstar;
“No peaking....!”
Frisk;
“........1......2......3.....now what?”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Okay you can look now.”
Uncovering their eyes Frisk now sees before them some that wasn’t there before. A simple train stop, a small roof propped up by ten 12-foot support poles, benches underneath. Along the one edge of the roof there were what looked like human bones arranged to form letters forming a sign that read “Hazbin Hotel”. Close to this small roof are what seem to be train tracks....or at least Frisk assumes they are tracks. A long stretching row of mechanical metal blades woven together like zipper teeth and clockwork, the very appearance of them giving the impression that just setting a single foot will see you pulled in and devoured in a pool of razor sharp ruination. But of particular note was a nearby pole with a shimmering golden bell on a hook, a simple chain handle dangling from that same hook. Charlie was walking up to the bell...
Charlie Morningstar;
“There are only two kinds of people I allow to even see this. Those that don’t really deserve eternal damnation and need an escape....and those I deliberately invite to my hotel.”
Frisk;
“And where exactly is this hotel of yours?”
She gives a soft giggle.
Charlie Morningstar;
“Ring the bell and find out.”
And so Frisk steps up to the bell, one tug on the chain is all it takes to have it ring its song across the immediate area. For about a minute that bell sung its gentle ringing hymn....and then a brief moment of silence. In this silence, the zipper teeth like tracks suddenly started shifting, moving, coiling, opening, forming a long row of bladed spikes arranged in an even machine configuration, now waiting for something to arrive....and then the whistle blow off in the distance. The sound of something large coming. A rather frightful echoing hymn of metal clanking against metal. And as Frisk looked to the right to behold what was coming, there it appeared, a hellish beast of absolute steel. At first a blackened serpentine shadow bellowing a starry purple blue nebula from its smoke stakes and side pipes. As it rolled along the tracks closer and closer its machine nature was more easier to grasp...
It had the core build of a JRN Class D51, one that was practically more snake than machine, much of its mechanical detail forming “scaly reptilian skin” across much of the hull. But the first big thing to draw the eye was the comically long cowcatcher, appearing as a giant robotic looking cobra head so low to the ground level it might as well be a genuine serpent sliding forward. The very front of the boiler body was also quite frightening, instead of a standard boiler plate there was...a human face. Or at least it looked humanoid, it was every bit reptilian in appearance giving the impression of a snake haired gorgon, much of said “snake hair” forming the two massive smoke shields framing the train’s front. Above this gorgon face was a human like skull with a large jewel in its grimacing mouth gleaming a pale green beam. There was not one smoke stack but six of them, arranged in two rows of three and looking more like dragon horns coiling towards the back. Razor sharp quills ran across the top of the boiler body like the back of a lizard. All along the sides of the train, beneath the smoke shields and then above the boxpoke wheel assemblies, there appeared metal pipes woven together like tree branches, the design of these pipes feels somewhere in the middle of muscle car exhaust systems and brass instruments. There are about twenty boxpoke wheels, ten on each side, every one of them suffering an identity crisis between heavy clockwork gears and circular saws with large cutting teeth. The train cab wasn’t even a box like shape, just more of those metal branch pipes forming a large interwoven shell like a rose bush with no roses, look closer and you will make out another giant humanoid face, sleeping, framed by scattered metal lanterns giving off soft light. The other cars trailing behind it seemed to have no end, all of them appearing together as one giant technological snake body, each section resting upon a heavy duty steel bed quartered in length measured by twenty gear like wheels arranged in two rows of ten. At the end of each section car are unusual continuously revolving rings of darkened gold giving the visage of circular saws lodged into the mechanical snake flesh, some rotated clockwise, others rotated counter clockwise. There were no windows to speak of. As it came closer to the stop it gradually reduced speed, by the time it was about twenty meters or so close to the stop its engines and automation were getting more quiet and slower, the sound of breaks roars out from beneath the metal beast’s underbelly as it finally arrived at its destination. For a moment it was just sitting there, but then the cab started to shift, the woven together pipes unwinding revealing another grimacing face, a human skull made of gunmetal black gears and clockwork. Shifting outward about ten meters on a neck of several hydraulic pistons, the mouth opening revealing a sliding staircase on rails hitting the floor with a hard clang.
Charlie Morningstar;
“Well, what do you think?”
Frisk;
“........looks.....cozy....”
And then another skull appears, a small one attached to a mechanical body. A full humanoid skeleton that looks as much rickety machinery as it does a set of bones with only a few stripes of biological muscle tissue. The skeleton reveals a train conductor’s whistle, despite having no lips it is able to blow into it. He speaks in a voice sounding filtered through an old 80s speaker. Skeleton Man;
“NOW ARRIVED AT PENTAGRAM CITY OUTER RIM SECTOR 564 OF SLOTH DISTRICT! ALL BOARDING PLEASE PRESENT YOUR PASSPORTS! SOON DEPARTING FOR SECTORS 563, 562 AND SO ON AND SO FORTH!”
Frisk;
“Uh, passport?”
Charlie Morningstar;
“In your hand”
Frisk finds something in their hand not there a second ago. A small booklet that had the words “Hazbin Hotel” printed upon it, inside is a few slits of paper detailing legal identification of sorts. A photo of their face and their full name and basic info. Much of it was actual blank or labeled as inconclusive. Dead, no. Date of death, not finalized. Sins they committed in life, not finalized. Final sin that condemned them to hell, not finalized. Possibility of finding redemption, yes. Quite sobering seeing their life documented in just a matter of fact way.
Skeleton Man;
“Mrs. Morningstar!”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Papyrus!”
The demon woman is quick to give the skeleton an enthusiastic hug, practically lifting him off the ground for a brief moment. She puts him back down and lets go.
Charlie Morningstar;
“How is everyone?”
Papyrus;
“Well Angel Dust is....adjusting.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“That bad huh?”
Papyrus;
“He’s favoring the grape a lot harder than usual tonight.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Never should have even allowed drinking.....and our other problem child?”
Papyrus;
“Off in the city again I don’t know where.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“(SIGH) Of course.”
The skeleton then takes notice of Frisk, quick to hold out a hand.
Papyrus;
“Passport?”
Frisk obliges, the skeleton quickly looking over what documentation is filled out. Papyrus;
“Well, that explains the Hellwalker’s Mask.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Which of course is why I also require, well, the blue can.”
Papyrus;
“Right away Mrs. Morningstar. And to your Master Frisk, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel hope your stay is a pleasant one.”
Up the stairway Frisk is guided right into the cab of this “hotel”. Even just stepping into the cab the overwhelming presence of this beast didn’t cease, just a whole corridor of biomechanical machinery that could easily pass for the innards of a creature. And there, nestle within the center space inside a “swirling vortex” of blood veins and sinew, a single red “apple” dripping with a coating of blood like viscous upon its surface floats in the middle of this vortex, its flesh pulsing with a beat of life. As the cab stair is withdrawn the side door closes, the entire chamber then shakes giving off an all too clear indication of the train starting to move. Frisk is guided towards a wall bearing a mechanical sliding door, next to it is a distinct disc like mechanism with a giant cross shaped keyhole in the center. As the skeleton approaches he takes out a key from his pocket, a pitch black object with a pulsing red eye giving off the faintest emissions of smoke. Upon inserting the key in the hole, the disc reveals itself to be a dial of sorts. About two of them forming some kind of combination lock marked with glowing square shaped hieroglyphs. A couple turns later and finally the mechanical door opens. Passed it is a pretty standard looking passenger car corridor, about twenty or so rows of 6 seats, a long path of velvet carpet splitting the rows in half. Not any other soul in sight save for a rather bulky looking knight in full body encasing armor of a brilliant gunmetal black shine. Looking closer one would see a drooping pony tail of red hair from the back of the helmet, the fully masking helmet that is able to hide whatever drooling slack jawed expression this dozed of knight has. Does little to muffle the snoring. Charlie Morningstar;
“At ease soldier.”
They walk right passed the knight, all the way to the end of the corridor. There is another dial, another door, this one already open. It lead right towards another passenger car corridor, even more empty seats. But then the skeleton inserts the key into the dial causing the door to close. A few turns of the dial later, the door reopens, it is not another empty passenger car. To Frisk’s amazement it was another room, a much larger room, one that defies all possible logic of this being another train car. It was a lounge with open bar, one about 200 feet in length and width. And it was occupied by about a hundred literally colorful characters. All manner of corpses and carcasses, crusty, musty and rusty all over, some were a bit less than others but they were all indeed dead. Not one of them looked truly human, each exhibiting forms and silhouettes akin to beasts, birds, insects, yokai, even aquatic life forms. They were all dead things....and yet they were all too lively. Some were dancing, others drinking mead and breaking literal bread, a few were embraced in each others arms in simple passion, some were taking turns at the Goku VS Superman Heroes Divided arcade cabinet in the far corner. You would almost forget these were humanoid bags of rotting meat for how happy they seem.
Charlie Morningstar;
“Right, listen Frisk I gotta check up on my friend Angel Dust.”
She guides Frisk towards a nearby soda dispenser, moving it slightly so they can hide behind it.
Charlie Morningstar;
“Just stay here for a minute I’ll be right back.”
Among the crowd at one of the stalls there is a trashy looking cyclops girl, her own eye with a large X for a pupil. She is sitting before the bartender, a winged manticore like creature in a top hat handing a cocktail shaker. Charlie makes a beeline for these two in particular.
Charlie Morningstar;
“Cherri, Husk.”
Cherri Bomb;
“I’m not his caretaker.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“But you and Husk are his best friends and often covers for him, a lot.”
Husk;
“Last I saw him he was headed to the toilets to go throw up his internal organs.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“(Sigh) Definitely never should have agreed to this open bar...”
She quickly shifts through the crowd headed towards the restroom in the back of the lounge. No sooner does the door to the men’s room close...
Cherri Bomb;
“Coast is clear.”
Appearing from behind the bar is a pink furry spider like humanoid with four arms and a hyper feminine body, hips that could birth children, a puffy mound of furry like a hen giving him the impression of having breasts. Wearing a cocktail dress of shimmering silk.
Angel Dust;
“I really hate that cunt!”
The spider hops over the bar, halfway swallowing the neck of a bottle labeled Premium Arch Vile Essence practically inhaling the contents like a man dying of thirst. The manticore is quite annoyed.
Husk;
“Angel you are aware how many souls it costs for that stuff?”
Angel Dust;
“Oh what you want me to sell my soul to you over some booze?”
A nearby purple dinosaur girl in punk rock attire speaks.
???;
“Trading one slave owner for another already? After you just got free?”
Angel Dust;
“Oh shut up Susie. Free? Yeah sure, about as free as someone still stuck in hell for all eternity!” Susie;
“At least you don’t have to suffer under that literal rapist Valentino.”
Angel Dust;
“For all the good that does me. At least under Val I had some perks, now I got nothing! Soul notes, drugs, my acting career, servant immunity, all gone! I’m easy pickings now, if I so much as step outside this fucking hotel it’s open season on my hide. What was once my safe place is now just another prison! If only that idiot Pentious didn’t rat me out to Charlie, I swear if I see that dumbass again.....fuck....”
It was hard not to hear this spider’s woes from across the entire room, yet even then Frisk could barely pay attention after spotting a particular creature no less then 20 feet away, staring at them. Another cyclops, one as tall as a 5 month old infant. Dressed in a maid outfit giving her a porcelain doll like appearance, carrying a small mop and a bucket. This cyclops just stands there.....staring at them. It makes Frisk’s skin crawl. But then the cyclops maid gets a little closer, still staring. Close enough that when she speaks, Frisk can more than hear her....
???;
“You smell weird.....you smell.....nice....”
Yeah no fuck that, Frisk had to get away from this thing. This thing that then starts walking after them as if drawn to their scent. Frisk even goes right into the thick of the crowd trying to lose her, but she is able to keep pace.
Angel Dust;
“Anyway I’m going to your room Cherri.” Cherri Bomb;
“That’s the second place she’ll look for you.”
Angel Dust;
“Fine then I’ll hide out in Husk’s room!”
Husk;
“Like hell you will! You so much as touch my secret stash again-”
Angel Dust;
“You’ll what? Kill me? I’m already dead what more can you do to me?”
Frisk was so fixated on getting away from that creepy little goblin they weren’t paying attention to where they were going, bumping right into the spider has he was drinking more of that bottle. The accidental bump causes a lot of it to spill down onto his bosom of fur, trickling down onto his dress leaving quite the stain. He was silent as the grave for a moment, mortified at the state of his dress. As he then looks at Frisk, his horror quickly shifts to rage.
Angel Dust;
“YOU LITTLE FUCKER!”
Frisk;
“I.....I didn’t?”
Angel Dust;
“DIDN’T WHAT?! YOU GOT SOMETHING TO SAY?!”
Frisk;
“I’m sorry!”
Angel Dust;
“Oh you’re sorry?! Well whoopty fucking do! How’s about you sell your soul to me to cover the cost of my goddamn dry-cleaning?! Who the fuck even are you?!”
Frisk;
“I, I came here with Charlie. She brought me here-”
Angel Dust;
“Ohhhh well good for you! One of her personally selected VIPs!”
Frisk;
“Well I guess kind of like you are.”
If looks could kill, Frisk would immediately die from the look the spider is now giving them.
Angel Dust;
“The fuck did you just say? YOU THINK I’M GETTING SPECIAL TREATMENT YOU LITTLE CUNT?!”
Frisk;
“I didn’t mean it like that-“
And like that the spider readjusts his hold on that now empty bottle deliberately raising it up to then smash it over Frisk’s face. Before that bottle even reaches Frisk’s mask, a hand intercepts it, her hand. Her grasp is firm, resolute. As is the look in her eyes as she stares right at the spider’s agitated face. Firm as it was her grasp was still gentle, slowly prying the bottle out of the spider’s fingers and setting it on the counter, not once does she break eye contact. The room is deathly silent as everyone looks on watching her walk up closer to him with no sudden movements, arms reaching for his torso. She now has her arms around his waist, holding him close to her and resting her chin upon that access of fluff upon his chest, giving him little choice but to look her in the eye. He sneers, trying to push her away, but she will not budge.
Angel Dust;
“Y’know if you’re gonna put your hands on me at least pay me for it!”
The look in her eyes is still resolute and firm.
Charlie Morningstar;
“You’ve had a bad day haven’t you?”
Angel Dust;
“No shit sherlock! The worst fucking day of my life, all because of you! And now my cocktail dress is ruined thanks to this little shit you brought here!”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Relax Anthony, Papyrus will have it properly cleaned by tomorrow.”
Angel Dust;
“Don’t call me that! You’re not my mother!”
Charlie Morningstar;
“I think you’ve had enough for tonight.”
He suddenly mutates, his form twisting into something more hideous, more violently monstrous. What was four arms and hands split into eight, grabbing hold of her upper back threatening the puncture her body with velociraptor talon hooks popping out from between his fingers. About six extra eyes reveal themselves along his forehead, temples and cheeks. His lower face practically explodes wide open revealing a much greater mouth filled with mandibles and thorn like teeth, acid like bile now splattering upon Charlie’s own face.
Angel Dust;
“I KNOW WHEN I’VE HAD ENOUGH YOU ENTITLED BITCH!!”
The look in her eyes is still resolute and firm. No matter how much he snaps and screams, she won’t flinch. Not even that acid bile dripping from his mouth has any effect on her. She won’t let go of him, she can’t let go of him.
Charlie Morningstar;
“I think. You’ve had. Enough. For tonight.”
He was but an animal sensing a superior alpha, quietly reverting back to his normal state of being with a rather regretful look in his eyes. Gently she starts moving him back, gently having him sit down in a nearby seat. He is slightly shaking, hard to say if its out of fear or just exhaustion. She doesn’t break eye contact with him, raising a hand towards the others. Charlie Morningstar;
“Water please.” Once of the other patrons there hands her a water bottle, quickly opens it she then softly puts it in Angel’s hands helping him take a sip of it. The look in her eyes gets softer as he starts to calm down, she even smiles at him, softly. Angel Dust;
“Ch....Charlie....I....”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Shhhhhh.”
She presses her lips against his forehead as she caresses her fingers through his hair.
Charlie Morningstar;
“You don’t have to say it Angel. I know. Just get some rest okay?” Angel Dust;
“Y-yeah, okay.”
The tall cyclops is rather put off by this display.
Cherri Bomb;
“And I suppose he’s grounded for a month or some crap?”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Just get him to his room and stay with him Cherri, please and thank you.”
Cherri Bomb;
“Yeah yeah I got him.”
The tall cyclops then wraps and arm around the spider helping him leave with what dignity he has left. As he passes by Frisk he gives a sad glare. Charlie approaches the poor kid stewing in their regret. As she does she notices the little cyclops maid not too far behind fixated on Frisk. Figures.
Frisk;
“........I.....I didn’t mean to....I’m sorry.”
Charlie places a gentle hand upon Frisk’s shoulder, smiling gently.
Charlie Morningstar;
“Shit happens, no use crying over spilt milk.”
Husk;
“Easy for you to say, that was Premium Arch Vile Essence spilt all over Angel.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“No more hard drinks for tonight Husk.”
Everyone let out childish moans of disappointment.
Susie;
“Oh c’mon it’s only been two hours!”
Charlie Morningstar;
“And I would like to avoid having to send anyone else to bed on time out. Frankly you should all be cutting down on that stuff you’re all too dependent on it.” The patrons just keep giving off disgruntle sighs of frustration as they watch Charlie head to the wall towards a nearby door dial, one lacking a keyhole and is three dials. Charlie Morningstar;
“Look you can all just go to the candy room and enjoy as much sugarplums and hot chocolate as you want, my treat.”
Susie;
“We’re gonna trash that room out of protest.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Well it wouldn’t be the first time I cleaned up after you. Have fun.”
The door opens up to a rather colorful literally sugar coated chamber full of candy and treats growing on plants just there for the taking, everyone in the lounge begrudgingly moves to this colorful wonderland. Some actually start jumping on a candy tree with others trying to cut it down. In short order a food fight erupts with everyone grabbing handfuls of ice cream from the tubs and tossing it about.
Charlie Morningstar;
“They’re actually sweethearts once you get to know them.”
Frisk;
“........right.....”
____________________________________________________________
It is a few minutes later. Frisk is being guided through a full on grove, yet another chamber spitting firmly in the face of this being a train. Lush teal and blue vegetation overgrown atop a patch of white sand, a trail of gemstone pebbles run through as the base for a gentle stream of crystalline water. Charlie leads the way towards a particular brush of thorny bramble and crystal flowers. Gently touching a few of them in a sequence she triggers a glowing pigmentation in some of the vines forming a sigil of a pentagram. The bramble then gives way to a hidden door with a slight heart shaped. The words “STAY OUT” written upon it in blood.
Behind this door is something.....quaint. An otherwise normal looking bedroom, at least normal for a woman who has not parted with her childish self indulgences. Just about every wall is covered in posters of varying sizes, vastly varying interests from Spawn to Ironmouse. Two beds, one a circular lounging bed, the other a lounging couch of Victorian age design. In the one corner is a nearby powder room desk housing a “shrine” of stuffed animals and figurines on top of it, most of it My Little Pony and Disney memorabilia. The one wall has another door leading into a bathroom, next to it is a mini fridge made in the visage of the Pokemon character Gengar.
Charlie Morningstar;
“Well here we are, home sweet home. The one place in all of my hotel where you don’t have to wear that mask.”
Frisk;
“Finally.”
Frisk is practically ripping that mask right off letting it drop on the floor, Charlie doesn’t bother to pick it up. The tired kid flops onto that circular lounge bed, it’s so soft, so very soft. Soft and warm. It doesn’t seem real, that there is such a comfortable place in Hell.....oh right, this is Hell. Frisk;
“Is there a way out of here?”
Charlie looks hesitant to answer.
Charlie Morningstar;
“I don’t remember for sure, I need to look into it.”
She might as well have said no. Now Frisk really can’t sleep, trying to get in a good spot but no matter how comfortable they get they are just too silently high strung. Charlie is now kneeling on the floor next to that lounge next, resting her chin upon both crossed arms, looking right at Frisk’s silently stressed eyes unable to even close. Saying they look like they’ve seen a ghost would be quite the heartless cruel joke.
Charlie Morningstar;
“Need some melatonin perhaps?”
Frisk;
“I.....I don’t think I can ever sleep in this damned place. Every time I tried, something else came to wake me up.....I’ve been running none stop.....I can’t.......”
For a moment there was no distortion in Charlie’s voice, she spoke as a regular human woman....no, she sung like a regular human woman. You’d swear you could hear soft music to go along with her gentle hymn.... Charlie Morningstar; (Singing)
“At the end of the rainbow there’s happiness, and to find it how often I tried. But my life is a race, just a wild goose chase, and my dreams have all been denied. Why have I always such a failure? What could the reason be? I wonder if the world’s to blame? I wonder if it could be me? I’m always chasing rainbows, watching clouds drifting by. My schemes are just like all my dreams, ending in the sky...”
Frisk could feel it, their consciousness giving way to the darkness just behind their eye lids. Breathing slowed, heart rate finally calm and steady, fear of this awful existence around them silenced for the first time in days.
Charlie Morningstar; (Singing)
“Some fellows look and find the sunshine. I always look and find the rain. Some fellows make a winning sometimes, I never even make a gain believe me. I’m always chasing rainbows, waiting to find a little blue bird in vain.”
At last, Frisk was sleeping. They looked so peaceful. Charlie moves her hand near Frisk’s mouth, letting their warm resting breath brush against her palm. She then softly presses the back of her hand against their cheek, she can practically feel the blood vessels in the muscle tissue flowing with currents of life. She can’t help but press her two fingertips against the soft spot against the soft part of their neck, she felt it, a carotid pulse. Their heart beat echoing all the way up to their neck. This child truly was alive. Their skin was pristine, their smell was normal, their body was healthy. Charlie can’t even remember if she had ever been in the presence of such a living being. She has spent so long in the presence of dead things, Sinners in an eternal state of undeath, always rotting, always festering, always scabbing, always pealing. Always dying.
???;
“My that is quite the cute little button you have their Charlie.”
It was quite the distorted voice, filtered and muffled through the speaker of an old FM radio. Easily the kind of voice that put Charlie on edge, grabbing the voice’s neck and quickly putting him against the wall. The sclera of her eyes turned blood red as she glared at the demon in her tight grasp.
This 8 feet tall demon was quite the ragged looking fucker, desperately trying to cover his hideous nature with fancy attire. A dark red waste coat of silk over a red dress shirt with sleeves rolled up half way of the forearms, bands around his upper arms near the shoulders. Fingerless black leather gloves. There was no collar to speak of for the dress shirt. tight fit designer pants of gunmetal black giving his slender figure a rather feminine tint, a silver belt buckle depicting a baby deer’s skull. Resting upon his shoulders like a giant cape was a dirty white trench coat reaching to the knees with a fine fur collar, upon the back of this coat is the stitched in pattern of a satanic looking elk skull beast. In his one hand is a gentlemen’s walking cane about 5 feet in length, carbon steel with what appeared to be a Shure 55SG microphone as the head ornament. His sickly olive grey skin more than showed his status as an undead thing, fine thin fissure like lines running across his body giving of faint hints of pale green light, these lines had a bit of mechanical pattern to them. His neck was partly comprised of thick wiring, along his shoulder line were a pair of amp speakers. Quite the rat’s nest of a hairstyle he has on his head, a crudely done cropped angle bob cut and an uppercut on the back. vibrant carmine red with charcoal black ends. Large chunks of his hair were sticking upward looking like ears of a deer, in between were small antennae tubes forming simple deer antlers. His eyes were most inhuman, dark hue red orbs that glowed like rubies over a soft light source, upon the surface of these orbs were bright red pulse lines as you would see on a heart beat monitor, the jagged up and down “pulse” points of these lines being the closest thing to irises. He has quite the Cheshire Cat grin, razor sharp teeth of a dull dark yellow. He was bare foot, said feet being cervinae genus hooves like those of a reindeer.
???;
“Happy to see you too.”
Though the sclera of her eyes stayed crimson, her hand released the demon’s neck. Her voice distortion returns as she sneers in a low growl.
Charlie Morningstar;
“How many times Alastor? How many times must we have a talk about personal spaces?” Alastor;
“Yes, that tiresome talk about establishing trust and doing everything you can not to break that trust.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Don’t Alastor.”
Alastor;
“I just find it odd that you of all people are keeping secrets from us.”
Grabbing his shoulder she then brings him into the nearby bathroom and closing the door. Her voice is a slight volume louder.
Charlie Morningstar;
“Says the damn Cheshire Cat who just comes and goes as he pleases despite saying he would stay here and help the Hotel. I don’t know what you’re up to anytime you leave, yet you expect me to be open about this to everyone?”
Alastor;
“It would be nice to know that we are basically housing a live mortal in our asylum making us a moving target.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Again, coming and going as you please.”
He removes his gloves and starts washing his hands, the water feels nice and warm to the touch.
Alastor;
“This place has working toilets and clean water, I’d hate to see it go up in smoke over a damn living soul.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Oh please, like anyone would be dumb enough to mess with my Hotel or any of the people inside.”
Alastor;
“What about Vox? The voice of the people?”
Charlie Morningstar;
“What ABOUT Vox?”
Alastor;
“Well it’s just lately he’s been making a lot of traction drawing new converts to his congregation...”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Just another idiot building his tower of Babylon, a dime a dozen in this pit. What’s one more?”
Alastor;
“And one of these fools would be ecstatic to find out you have such a hot commodity in your grasp.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“This isn’t up for debate, you can make a million excuses for why I should have just left Frisk out there but I won’t abandon them, I can’t. You of all people know what will happen to them if I left them alone.......”
Once more she glares at him. Charlie Morningstar;
“And frankly I’m wondering if you’re just pissy you didn’t find them first.”
Alastor;
“Oh come now, do you think so little of me? That I would even want the soul of a snot nosed brat? Untainted it may be?”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Just so long as you keep your goddamn hands off them, DEALMAKER.”
Alastor;
“Scout’s honor......but just so we’re clear, what exactly do you hope to accomplish keeping them in this gilded cage of yours?”
There was a slight sneer on her face as she heard that, but she quickly recomposed.
Charlie Morningstar;
“If they at least die of old age, untouched, undefiled by this putrid dead world, they can leave without fuss and go right to Heaven.”
Alastor;
“And you know that for sure? Not like you even know how Heaven works, you’ve never seen it, your father barely remembers it...”
Charlie Morningstar;
“It’s just one of those things I got to take up on faith.”
He has even been washing his gloves, tattered and ragged as they are. After haven rung them out he puts them back on. He then approaches her only to walk past her towards the backside of the door. Alastor;
“Or you could just take the risk and get them out through the Gates of Hell. I’m sure someone of your power could easily pry them open.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“...................”
Alastor;
“Just saying.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“......if I’m to even entertain something so recklessly stupid as that, I might as well just kill Frisk myself, since that’s what I’d be doing regardless taking them near that fucking death trap.”
Alastor;
“Hmph, fair enough. I just hope you know what you’re doing....mommy dearest....”
Pressing a hand against that bathroom door he then manifests a shadow upon its surface, his hand starts phasing into it. As his whole being is absorbed into the shadow it then sinks to the ground fading into nothing. Like that he was gone without so much as a clatter. And with that she leaves the bathroom, a bit frustrated after that damn deer headed prick just came in here and had the nerve to question why she’s doing this. Who the fuck does that asshole think he is? Always looking down on everyone acting like he knows better than everyone else! Just because that shit head is actually happy here in this existential shithole that even she is not allowed to leave, what she wouldn’t give to just leave here! And now here this kid is trapped down here! What else can she do huh?! WHAT THE FUCK ELSE CAN SHE DO?! Man she needs a hit of something. Walking quickly up to that powder room desk covered in memorabilia. Placing her hands on the desk’s edge, her thumbs underneath the rim and pressing upon copper switches. She then opens it up, revealing a secret compartment behind it embedded within the wall. It is......a haunting display. Vials, glass vials of varying shapes all about the size of soda cans, about twenty in count, all of them containing strange small creatures. Obsidian black in color, possibly living shadows that were vaguely humanoid. Round bulbous heads upon small stout bodies. Round beady eyes that glowed bright yellow like a midnight full moon, a pair of zig-zag shaped antennae upon their heads. Some vials had more than one of these creatures, at least about two or three. Each vial is labeled with particular names, particular percentage numbers to denote quantity. “3/4 Himiko Toga”, “20/50 Chizome Akaguro”, “15/25 Steven Armstrong”, “6/40 Christopher Columbus”, “7/28 Death Spiral”, “4/5 Uchiha Madara”, “6/64 Jack The Ripper”, other such names. Inside the actual desk is a blood rack within a glass box giving off slight misty fog and condensation revealing it to be a chilled cooler. Sitting down upon the desk stool Charlie tries to get comfortable, reaching for a vial labeled “10/24 Charles Kirk”. There were about two creatures inside, one she plucks out with her razor sharp fingernails like tweezers. The creature screams its tiny voice, struggles to resist, even growing to twice its size to better retaliate forcing her to then grab it, clutch it tightly in her fist as she brings it to her waiting open maw. In it goes, Charlie covering her mouth to keep it from escaping her sharp gnashing teeth, each crunch of its bones and splatter of its innards inside her hole was euphoric, comforting, calming. Just like that all her frustration seemed to melt away. The sclera of her eyes finally change from blood red back to golden yellow. With a swallowing of what’s left of it she removes her hand from her mouth, licking her lips with a soft smile. The label on that vial changed like magic, “5/24 Charles Kirk”, she closes the vile and returns it to the wall compartment. Popping open that chilled blood case she pulls out one of the thinner vials of blood, practically inhaling its dark crimson contents like a shot of tequila. Ah, fresh Sinner blood drawn from a damned soul, nothing goes down smoother....but even after that brief moment of bliss, she still felt....uneasy. Looking back at the sleeping Frisk she feels nothing but worry. Charlie Morningstar;
“How am I going to do this?”
There was a knock at the bedroom door shaking her out of her morose trance.
Charlie Morningstar;
“Yes?!”
Papyrus; (Other Side of the Door)
“It’s me, I got the thing you asked for.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Oh thank you, uhh, give me a sec I’ll be right there.”
She says as she quickly stands up and scrambles to close up her desk hiding her stash behind her little shrine. Quickly wiping her face and fixing some of her hair she steps to the door. Opening up there was the skeleton, in his hands were a pair of industry grade pliers meant to handle dangerous smelter and chemicals......clamping down on what was a dark blue can, the picture of a girl in a yellow rain coat holding an umbrella. The name “Morton” printed upon it. The small metal pouring funnel was already flipped open.
Charlie Morningstar;
“Wonderful Pap.”
Papyrus;
“Where am I pouring it?”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Right around that.”
Approaching the very circular lounge bed Frisk was sleep on, Papyrus moved that can near the floor and tilted it sideways. It took about a couple minutes to draw a ring of white around that bed. After it was set Charlie tried to reach for Frisk again, only for her hand to press up against a sudden glow of golden purifying light as if she was touching a veil of reality. It was slightly burning to the touch, a small ting of pain in her fingertips. No matter how hard she pressed, her hand just couldn’t pass through.
Charlie Morningstar;
“Perfect. How much is left?”
Papyrus;
“Enough to last a year at least, if used moderately.”
Charlie Morningstar;
“Good, leave it on the coffee table I’ll give it to Frisk in the morning.” Setting it down on the table he even uses the priers to push the funnel close. Charlie pulls up that couch close to that bed, lying sideways facing Frisk. She lays her head upon a pillow, trying to find calm in the gentle quiet of the room. Her one hoof touches the floor letting her shadow upon it melding with that of the couch, allowing the flat silhouette of her familiar, Ouroboros, to slither and slunk around the bed a full lap before slipping right back under that couch. A ring of salt and a ring of pure darkness, a small moat around that small bed. Papyrus has locked the bedroom door, going to pick up that desk stool and move it against a nearby wall to lean against as he sits down.
Papyrus;
“Think it will hold? Think this will be enough?”
Charlie Morningstar;
“It has to be. I can’t let anything happen to them Pap. I gotta make sure they never end up....as one of us....” ____________________________________________________
To Be Continued.....












