Hazbin Hotel: Another Adam

Well, what can I say? Canon is such a contagious, sticky piece of crap that worms its way even where it's not invited, and sprouts like a weed through any attempt to create something original. In my past life, when I was still a simple student and read all sorts of fanfiction about self-inserts into anime or game universes, it always pissed me off how most authors slavishly clung to canonical events, awkwardly trying to shove their latest "Mary Sue" into the existing plot, instead of just taking that canon and breaking it to fucking pieces, building something normal on its ruins. And now… now, fate's irony has forced me to stand in the middle of this goddamn canon myself. Club "Ozzie's." I immediately recognized this place from that very "adult" cartoon about hellish imp assassins and their "very interesting" showdowns. Although, when Lute, clarifying the coordinates of our target sent by the drones last night, mentioned this name, nothing stirred in my memory. Well, whatever. The main thing was – the target was right here. Asmodeus.

The atmosphere inside the club was an assault on the brain and all senses simultaneously. It was a potent, nauseating mix of ostentatious, gaudy luxury, blatant, boundless debauchery, and some sticky, suffocating, almost physically tangible feeling of Lust, emanating, it seemed, from the velvet walls themselves, from the air, from every demon present here. Dark purple and neon pink lighting tones mixed, creating an intimate but painful twilight. Expensive velvet upholstery on the sofas, gold on the columns, crystal chandeliers of strange, ornate shapes… And everywhere – these intrusive, fucking phallic symbols! Seriously, Asmodeus, or whoever was in charge of the design here, clearly had some deep-seated complexes on this subject. Columns vaguely resembling erect members, light fixtures in the shape of eggs, even the central stage itself had a suspiciously rounded shape with a tall pole right in the middle. It all looked expensive, pretentious, and disgusting at the same time.

The air was heavy, stale, saturated with a complex bouquet of smells: expensive alcohol and cheap swill, the tart, sweet perfume of succubi and the musky scent of imps, the sweat of hundreds of aroused, dancing, copulating bodies, and that same invisible but all-pervading ethereal essence of Lust, which, it seemed, Asmodeus simply sprayed here to maintain the right atmosphere, like some air freshener in hotel toilets.

And so, into this very den of debauchery, we burst in, noisily and spectacularly. A squad of my revamped "little angels of death." A hundred exorcists in new armor (that's how many sets they'd managed to make so far). Mine was updated too, by the way, but the appearance remained untouched; the image was too memorable, almost legendary.

The sight, I tell you, was truly epic. Saraqael outdid himself this time. The armor was light, almost weightless in appearance, but terrifyingly durable; various titans would be nervously smoking in the corner. Black, matte metal of an unknown alloy, shimmering in the neon light, tightly hugged the girls' chiseled figures, not restricting movement, but emphasizing their deadly forms. Thin golden energy lines ran along the armor, softly pulsating with pure Light – the power and amplification system. The magical components in the helmets flickered, displaying tactical information. And yes, no more stupid "horns," which I myself was always banging my head on doorframes with (being tall isn't always good)! Instead, the helmets were crowned with neat, short white wigs, imitating various short hairstyles – each exorcist could choose her own style. And under the fully closed visor of the helmet – the same familiar predatory, fanged grin. Now my girls didn't just look like angel-warriors – they looked like an elite squad of valkyries from the most advanced cyberpunk. Deadly, elegant, frightening, and… yes, why hide it, damn sexy in their battle fury (for me, for sure, while sinners could definitely open a brick factory).

Watching them expertly, like a single organism, without a single superfluous movement, disperse throughout the huge club hall, instantly blocking all exits and taking aim with their new blasters at the demons stunned by such an invasion, I caught myself thinking that I was staring a bit too openly, almost like a teenager.

Lute, standing next to me, immediately gave me a light but very noticeable slap on the back of my helmet with her armored glove.

"Adam! Focus! You didn't come here to gawk at girls!" she hissed into my ear through the closed communication system.

"Oh, come on, sunshine, I'm just admiring the result of our joint work," I muttered in response, rubbing the bruised back of my helmet. "You all look absolutely stunning! And how excellently you move after training!"

"You can admire them later. We have important business here, actually. The target is on stage, if you haven't noticed yet."

What a grump. Though, she's probably right. Not the time to get distracted by aesthetics. Time to start the show.

We arrived right in the middle of the local show – just when that little imp Moxxie had already finished his sappy ballad and was now being actively humiliated and morally trampled by the establishment's owner, Asmodeus, and his pet cyborg-clown, Fizzarolli. Next to them on stage, Blitz was trying to yap something in defense of his employee, immediately getting a verbal (and shortly after, physical) beatdown from his ex, Verosika. A classic infernal soap opera, full of drama, humiliation, and mutual insults. I saw Millie, Moxxie's wife, already literally seething with rage at her table and preparing to rush onto the stage to give her husband's abusers a thrashing. Overconfident, but damn right, in my opinion. An excellent moment for our dramatic entrance and seizing the initiative.

I decided to take on the role of the "thrasher" myself, since Millie was a bit late.

I materialized right on stage, between Asmodeus and Fizzarolli. A short flash of pure Light, a slight pop of tearing space – a spectacular entrance in the style of old anime, just as I like it. The clown had just turned in my direction.

"Fuck, what?!" was all he managed to shriek, his mechanical eyes widening in shock and recognition (or surprise?).

That moment was enough. My fist, enveloped in a golden glow of Light, smashed right into his clownish face. The sound of the impact was like the screech of metal and the crunch of breaking bones simultaneously. A fountain of sparks, splatters of synthetic blood and lubricant – and the cyborg's body, like a broken puppet, flies to the far wall of the club, breaking a couple of expensive tables along the way and crashing into the brickwork with such force that deep, spiderweb-like cracks appeared on it. He didn't even twitch after the fall. It seems one punch from me was more than enough to send this cringey jester into a deep knockout. Serves him right.

Meanwhile, the demons' screams grew even louder, and my girls had already begun their work. Some immediately surrounded the downed Fizzarolli, taking aim at him with energy blasters. Others began to methodically "tie up" the club's security (hulking incubi in tuxedos) and particularly rowdy or aggressive patrons. A third group took up key positions at all exits and windows, blocking any escape routes.

The demons, who just a second ago were indulging in debauchery and fun, were now scurrying around the hall like cockroaches when the lights are turned on. Screams of terror, shrieks of panic, disorderly fire from some demonic pistols… But my exorcists acted as a single mechanism. Professionally, precisely, ruthlessly. No unnecessary cruelty – only the precise execution of the order: neutralize resistance, immobilize everyone present. Occasionally, short bursts from blasters lit up the hall – warning shots over heads or pinpoint hits to the limbs of those who tried to resist particularly actively.

In my helmet at that time, a specially selected upbeat mix of Schubert's classic "Ave Maria" and some hard, tooth-grinding hardbass was playing – the perfect soundtrack for clearing out an elite infernal den. Beautiful.

"Tie everyone up, my dears!" I shouted over the general tactical comms. "Status, gender, and rank don't matter! We'll deal with sorting and interrogations later, at the base! The main thing now is that no one leaves! Especially our main target! Do you understand me?!"

"Yes, sir!" a unified chorus of voices responded in my helmet.

With a satisfied smirk under my mask, I turned to Asmodeus, who had been standing on stage all this time, staring dumbfoundedly first at me, then at my efficiently working girls, then at his downed favorite clown. It seemed the Lord of Lust was slightly… unprepared for such a turn of events.

I took a step towards him… and immediately jumped back, feeling a sharp surge of dark energy. A whiplike, almost silent strike from a black, clawed paw, suddenly growing out of Asmodeus's shadow, passed exactly where I had just been standing, leaving deep furrows on the stage. This Deadly Sin's reaction was still better than the clown's, I admit. But I also had a damn quick reaction, so I dodged it without any problems.

"Hey, you horned asshole! Lost all fear? What are you doing waving your dirty paws around here, huh?" I snorted, easily stepping back another pace and putting up a translucent, shimmering golden shield of pure Light in front of me.

A powerful, dense beam of concentrated Lust immediately hit it, without warning. Bright pink, almost neon, viscous energy hissed like acid upon contact with my Light, leaving a nauseating, sickly-sweet trail of overripe fruit, musk, vanilla, and… something indescribably filthy, primally lustful in the air. The shield trembled under the pressure, covered with a network of small golden cracks, but it held. Strong. Very strong. But not enough. Asmodeus roared with rage and wounded pride.

"Go fuck yourself, upstart!" His voice was now low, guttural, full of unconcealed, animalistic malice. His three pairs of emerald eyes blazed with green fire. "What the fuck are you doing in my club?! Why the fuck do you dare attack ME on MY TERRITORY?! I'll grind you into powder!"

Each of his words was accompanied by a new energy blast. Beams of pink lust energy flew at me from all sides, trying to bypass the shield, hit from the flanks, seep through the defense. They carried not only pure destructive power but also the very quintessence, the very concept of Lust – it clung to consciousness, tried to penetrate the protective field, evoke inappropriate, dirty desires, cloud the mind, weaken the will. But my concentration was absolute, my will – steel, and the shield, reinforced by runes and knowledge from the grimoire – reliable. That's how cool I am, yes. I easily dodged his predictable attacks, which now seemed surprisingly slow and straightforward to me. Beelzebub's memory, his centuries of combat experience against creatures whose power was based on pure elements, now worked for me, giving me an invaluable advantage.

"On your territory?" I chuckled, continuing to slowly retreat and lure him away from the center of the stage and my girls. "I agree, the place is so-so for a serious conversation. It's noisy here, dirty, stinks of cheap perfume. Let's change the scenery to something more… sublime? Territory expansion!"

A snap of my fingers. I didn't waste time creating a visible portal. While I was dodging his attacks and having this pointless dialogue, I had managed to discreetly fill the space around both of us with enough of my Light and activate the "Purity field" – my personal anti-magic, suppressing manifestations of Darkness and concepts based on it (which is why Stolas couldn't escape through a portal, and he definitely tried, I saw it). And now I just took and transported both of us – myself and the stunned Asmodeus – to my personal pocket dimension.

View from the Side

In an instant, the bright, garish, sound-and-smell-filled atmosphere of the infernal club "Ozzie's" vanished without a trace, replaced by absolute, ringing silence and the impenetrable blackness of space, upon whose canvas hundreds and thousands of incredibly beautiful stars of unnatural colors emerged. No sound, no smell, not even the familiar sensation of gravity. Two silhouettes froze opposite each other in the infinite void, strewn with myriads of indifferent stars.

One – Adam, the First Man, Archangel. Huge golden wings were spread behind his back, demonstrating power and readiness for battle; the halo above his head pulsed with pure energy in time with his calm breathing. In his hand, he clutched an elegant but deadly katana, its blade woven from pure, dazzling Light capable of cutting reality itself. He stood calmly, firmly, his aura radiating indomitable power and unbending will.

The second – Asmodeus, Lord of Lust, one of the Seven Deadly Sins. He looked utterly lost, disoriented, like a fish thrown onto dry land. His bright, carnival-like attire seemed ridiculous and completely alien in this sterile cosmic void. He slowly looked around, his three pairs of eyes blinking in bewilderment, trying to comprehend where he was and what had happened. His own powerful aura of Lust, which had filled the entire space in the club, suppressing the will of mortals and demons, felt weak here, diluted, suppressed by an alien influence.

"WHAT IS THIS PLACE?!" Asmodeus's roar sounded muffled, almost silent in the vacuum, as if getting stuck in the surrounding emptiness. There were no sound waves here, but his rage, his indignation, were felt as waves of pure pressure, distorting the space around him.

"My personal space," Adam's voice, amplified by internal strength, sounded calm, but with an icy mockery. He slowly raised his light katana, pointing it at the demon. "Cozy little place, don't you think? Specially for our conversation. A place where your dirty toys and tricks don't work, Asmodeus. Only my rules apply here."

Asmodeus tried to attack – instinctively throwing his hand forward, trying to form his usual beam of Lust. But the viscous pink energy only weakly flared on his fingers and immediately dissipated without a trace, not reaching its target. He tried to teleport away from this trap – but his body only twitched convulsively and remained in place. He tried to transform into his true, monstrous form of the Lord of Lust – but his body only trembled again, covered with some ripple, but could not change, as if something was blocking his very essence. The field of pure Light and the concept of Purity, created by Adam in this dimension, completely blocked his magic of Darkness, his power of Lust.

"What… what have you done to me, you bastard?!" Asmodeus's voice now contained not only primal rage but also poorly concealed, almost animalistic fear. He had encountered something for the first time that could completely neutralize his power.

"Just rewrote the rules of the game in my favor," Adam smirked, taking a step forward. "Welcome to my world, Lord of Lust. Here, you are nobody. Not a Prince of Hell, not a Deadly Sin. Just a piece of meat that I'm now going to carefully dissect. Or carelessly. Depends on your behavior."

And Adam lunged. His movement wasn't just fast – it was like teleportation. A golden flash – and he was already next to the gigantic figure of Asmodeus. A strike with the light katana. The blade of concentrated Light passed through the demon's dark flesh with a light hiss, leaving behind a deep, smoking, charred trail.

Asmodeus howled in unbearable pain – the Light burned his essence more intensely than any scorching fire. He tried to fight back with his clawed paws, to bite with one of the heads on his mane, but Adam was too fast. He literally danced around the huge, clumsy demon, delivering blow after blow with his shining katana. His blade flashed like golden lightning, severing the newly appeared black wings, piercing the body, dissecting the very dark essence of Lust. Each blow was accompanied by a new flash of blinding Light and an agonizing, gurgling scream from the Deadly Sin. This was no longer a battle of equals. It was a methodical beating. Asmodeus, one of the oldest and most powerful demons in all of Hell, was utterly helpless against the enraged Archangel in his own personal dimension, where the demon's magic didn't work.

"MORON! YOU'LL REGRET THIS!" Asmodeus's voice was distorted beyond recognition, becoming inhuman, as if thousands of suffering voices had merged into one death rattle. "I AM ASMODEUS! LORD OF ALL DESIRES! ALL LUST! YOU CANNOT DEFEAT ME! I WILL TEAR YOUR PATHETIC SOUL TO PIECES!!!"

"Oh really, fucker? Is that all you're capable of? Threats and whining?" Adam's voice was cold, but mockery tinged it. He easily dodged Asmodeus's last desperate, blind swipe of claws and delivered a decisive counter-blow. Not with the katana. He formed a long, shining spear of pure Light in his hand and, with incredible force, plunged it right into the demon's chest, where his dark heart should have been beating.

And then something unforeseen and incredibly horrifying happened. Asmodeus's body stopped screaming and began to tremble violently, vibrating. From the huge wound in his chest left by the Light spear, it wasn't blood or dark energy that gushed out. Pure DARKNESS poured from there. A thick, viscous, oily, absolutely black substance, in which cold silver sparks of Light from the spear occasionally flashed. This Darkness began to quickly spread across his body, consuming him from within, distorting, changing his very essence. His form began to monstrously deform, to bloat. The severed wings on his back turned into ragged, writhing tentacles. The eyes on all three heads went out, turning into bottomless abysses into nothingness, exuding gloom. Three maws opened wide, spewing streams of that same primordial, living Darkness.

The space around began to crack and break under the pressure of this force. The very space was literally covered with a network of dark cracks, like shattered glass. The Darkness that erupted from Asmodeus was so concentrated, so strong and evil, that it began to destroy the very world Adam had created from Light.

"Bitch… So that's what it is…" Adam exhaled, instantly realizing he had encountered something far more terrible and dangerous than just an enraged Deadly Sin. "This, fucker, isn't your power…"

He directed all his might at the growing, all-consuming Darkness. Streams of pure golden Light gushed from his body, from his armor, from his internal accumulator located on the "Death Star." Light clashed with Darkness in the center of his small universe. A furious battle of two primordial, opposing forces began. Adam's dimension shuddered from the monstrous tension. Stars went out one by one, turning to dust. The world around was cracking at the seams, threatening to tear apart. It was a desperate battle on the brink of total annihilation – of his world, and possibly, himself.

POV Adam, dumbfounded by what's happening

…I stood in the middle of my mutilated, almost extinguished world. Almost no stars remained; the space was covered with a network of dark cracks; the air (or rather, the space itself) smelled of ozone and burning. The Darkness had retreated, burned by my Light, but the price of this victory was high. My personal reserve was absolutely empty. My internal "Sunshine"-accumulator was almost depleted. My body ached as if I'd been put through a meat grinder. The armor was covered in cracks and melted spots. But most importantly – I understood.

This Darkness… this incredible, primordial power… It wasn't Asmodeus's strength. And certainly not some Loa spirits. It was HER. Eve. It seems she's the one hiding behind the guise of these very Loa, because the sensations from this Darkness were the same as back then in the battle with Alastor. Why would she make such a contract with Asmodeus too? To strengthen him for some purpose of hers? To control him? Or… to test me? To see what I'm capable of?

I shifted my gaze to what was left of the once-mighty Lord of Lust. He lay on the invisible floor of this collapsing dimension. A mutilated, almost unrecognizable, semi-ruined body. Without arms, without wings, with a huge hole in his chest and a mangled head with two lifeless masks. But he was still alive.

He was breathing – what was left of his lungs emitted weak, gurgling wheezes. He even tried to move when I, staggering with fatigue, approached him. One surviving green eye struggled to focus on me.

"I… did not… lose… to you…" he rasped, and a trickle of black, oily ooze flowed from his only intact maw on his chest.

"You, fucker, didn't even understand who you really got involved with, idiot," I replied quietly, my tongue barely moving. I placed my heavy-booted foot on his chest, just so he wouldn't squirm. Not out of malice, it just made it easier for me to fill the space around him with Light. "Done showing off?"

He was silent. Seemed to have lost consciousness. Fucking great.

"Well, just lie there for now, carrion," I gathered the last remnants of my strength and created a dense cocoon of pure Light around his mutilated body, twisting it in layers. The cocoon radiated heat from within, suppressing the remnants of Darkness and his regeneration. The Light was weak enough not to kill him too quickly, but also to prevent him from causing any more bullshit. "When you wake up… If you wake up – we're going to have a long, very, fucking, important conversation."

I teleport his unconscious body, encased in the light cocoon, to my orbital station-laboratory, straight into the almost extinguished "sunshine"-accumulator at its very center. Let him lie there, warm himself in the heart of pure Light. Maybe it'll clear his head a bit before the interrogation. Though I strongly doubted it.

I myself collapsed into the nearest armchair, which had miraculously survived the rampage of energies. My head was throbbing as if someone was hitting it with a hammer. My body refused to obey; every muscle screamed from pain and overexertion.

What the fuck was that just now?! Eve… She's already started to act. Is she using the Deadly Sins as her puppets? Or was this an isolated incident, her way of sending me a "hello"? And what about the Loa? Did Eve create these spirits? Or is she just hiding behind their name? Too many questions, and too few answers. And my strength is almost at zero.

I needed to get out of here, recover my strength. And think. Think very, very much. Because the game, it seems, has moved to a whole new level.

I managed to contact Lute with difficulty.

"Lute… how are… things there?"

"Everything's under control, Adam," her voice sounded calm, but I caught a note of concern in it. "Most of the demons in the club have been neutralized and captured. The club's security and staff are tied up. No losses among ours. What about you? How did the conversation with Asmodeus go? Are you okay?"

"Asmodeus… let's just say, he's temporarily incapacitated. I have him," I tried to speak evenly. "Release all the detainees in the club, except for the staff and security. Interrogate those later, standard procedure, maybe they know something useful. And grab that clown too. Return to Heaven yourselves immediately. Declare a Class Two alert. That's an order."

"Are you sure, Adam? Release almost everyone?.."

"I'm sure. They mean fuck all right now. We have much more serious problems. Come back. End of communication."

I disconnect without waiting for her reply. I need to imbue the space with Light and Cosmic energy, because the world didn't collapse by sheer luck. I spent another half hour on this, wringing the accumulator dry already. Worn the fuck out.

Gathering my last strength, I open a golden portal straight into my living room in Heaven. A step… and I'm home. I fall onto the soft sofa, feeling my strength finally leave me, and sink into darkness.

Eve… That bitch made her presence known. Well, what the hell started that damn apocalypse with fucking "gods" in my world? There were no second-third-tenth seasons of that damn cartoon, so I have NO knowledge about this!

Alright, whatever, I need to recover now. And then… then we'll deal with it. With Lucifer. With the Seraphim. And with that goddamn Eve. The real shitstorm, it seems, is just beginning.