Hazbin Hotel: Another Adam

POV Octavia

Another "good" morning, as always, and those screams again. Mother, as always, is screeching at Father so loudly it seems they can hear her in the next Circle. Father, as usual, is muttering something in reply with an apologetic tone, trying to calm her down. And I… well, I, as usual, am lying in my bed, buried under the blanket, dreaming of only one thing – to burn this damn mansion down with all its inhabitants. Well, or at least just get the fuck out of here.

I don't really understand Father's motives: why did he start this affair with that little imp? Yes, my mother is quite the bitch, I know. Always dissatisfied, always nagging, always demanding, but couldn't he have found someone… more decent, perhaps? Or at least not drag this Blitzo of his (even his name is idiotic!) into our house, practically without hiding it? And Mother… isn't she tired of throwing these tantrums EVERY DAMN DAY? She should spare her own nerves, since she deeply doesn't give a shit about anyone else's…

I sigh heavily, pulling my headphones over my ears. The only way to somehow drown out this yelling is to blast music at full volume. Something heavy, gloomy, matching my mood. I'd just sit in my room like this all day, locked up tight… But my stomach rumbles предательски. I still have to eat breakfast. So, gathering all my willpower, I crawl out from under the blanket and head to the kitchen, hoping that neither of my dear parents will notice me and drag me into another family drama. How fucking sick I am of all this…

For breakfast today, it's cereal with milk. Not ideal, of course, but it's quick, simple, and relatively tasty. A win-win option for those who want to minimize their presence in the kitchen. I put the milk in the microwave, pour cereal into a bowl…

"Octavia, my dear, good morning!" Father's voice behind me. Just as soft, insinuating, as always; I jump in surprise.

"Good morning, Dad," I grumble, not turning around. Zero enthusiasm in my voice. Lately, he and Mom have been arguing more often, louder, more… hopelessly. And it's unbearably infuriating. Why, WHY is he sleeping with that imp?! Couldn't he have just… gotten a divorce? Or at least not do it so demonstratively?!

"How are you, my little bird? Did you sleep well?" he comes closer. I feel his gaze on my back: awkward and guilty. He takes a piece of raw meat from the fridge and feeds it to his favorite carnivorous plant in a pot by the window. A disgusting, toothy creature that he's cherished since my childhood.

"Fine, Dad," I reply, taking the milk out of the microwave and pouring it over the cereal. He always asks this idiotic question when he wants to start a conversation but doesn't know how. "Have you calmed down yet? Or is the 'performance' not over?"

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! FUCKING A GODDAMN IMP! IN OUR OWN HOUSE! UNDER THE SAME ROOF AS OUR DAUGHTER! I'LL CASTRATE YOU, YOU BASTARD!!!" A new explosion of motherly shrieks comes from the living room, accompanied by the sound of breaking dishes.

(Author's note: In the original, she probably wouldn't even mention her daughter, but I want to change Stella's character a bit.)

"Question withdrawn," I state, crunching on my cereal.

"Ahem… um…" Father coughs awkwardly, his long head-feathers twitching slightly. He pretends not to hear Mom's screams, sits down on a chair next to me while I eat. "My little star, what are your plans for Friday? Five days from now?"

I slowly raise my gaze to him, arching an eyebrow.

"D-a-ad?" Not only does Father completely misunderstand me, but he also constantly drags that Blitzo of his around! Every time, I feel like a third wheel! Though, I must admit, it's gotten a little better lately. After that incident at Loo Loo Land, he started acting a bit more… attentive? But still.

"Octavia, dear, the annual Autumn Ball is on Friday. All the noble Goetial families will be there, and as far as I know, our presence there is… highly desirable. Though more like mandatory, actually. Understand?" He lowered his voice, leaning towards me. "Something related to Asmodeus, your grandfather is gathering all the Princes and Dukes, so it's important, and I wanted to warn you in advance so you have time to prepare. Choose a dress, that sort of thing…"

I finish my cereal, put the empty bowl in the sink, and sigh heavily.

"I get it…" I roll my eyes. I hate these gatherings of pompous turkeys. All those fake smiles, empty conversations, gossip behind backs… And most importantly – the way they look at my father: with contempt, with ridicule. Because of his affair with an imp. Why couldn't Father just keep these affairs secret? "Alright, I'll get ready. Thanks for the warning."

"Yes… Yes, you're welcome, my dear… Is everything alright?" There was such genuine sadness and concern in his voice that for a second, I even felt sorry for him.

"Same as always, Dad. Same as usual…" I shrug and, without looking at him, walk out of the kitchen, once again immersing myself in the soundtrack of my mother's screams and the sounds of crashing furniture…

I enter my room, slam the door behind me, and turn the lock. This is my sanctuary. Walls entirely covered with posters of various rock bands that probably no one but me has ever heard of. Bookshelves crammed with old, battered volumes of gothic novels and collections of poems about death and despair. A desk cluttered with notebooks filled with my own drawings – dark, a bit depressing, but I like them. And a huge window overlooking Hell's eternally crimson sky. I always close it at night. So I don't have to see this nightmare. So that…

Stop! The window is open! Wide open! Even though I distinctly remember closing it! What the hell?!

My heart gives an anxious lurch; I slowly turn towards my favorite rocking chair by the window and freeze.

Someone is sitting there. With their back to me.

The chair slowly, creakily, turns… And I see him.

"'Sup, little owl! Miss me?" A cocky, shiveringly familiar smirk. Ash-silver hair, carelessly slicked back. And those eyes… Bright red, glowing from within, like two infernal coals. The demon from Loo Loo Land! That same Tatsumi who then set me up with my father!

POV Adam

Well, well, well, here's our wonderful little mansion! Prince Stolas's palace. Or whatever this pretentious monstrosity is called? Residence? Castle? As I said, this is the perfect place to test my new artifact from Sera. Stolas and his family are ideal test subjects: I was one hundred percent sure that they hadn't made any contracts with my dearest ex-wife (fuck her, by the way). So I can safely test the gadget in "clean" conditions, otherwise, what if it reacts to any Darkness?

It would have been logical, of course, to wait for a certain radio deer to appear first. But that asshole was right in the middle of another broadcast at that moment, brainwashing sinners with some nonsense, so I decided "not to interfere with the creative process"! That's me, so fucking understanding and tactful! Awaiting applause! Preferably – from a beautiful, naked girl. Ahem… I seem to have gotten sidetracked, my apologies.

So, I fly up to this palace in my demonic form (ash hair, red eyes, small black horns, stylish black jacket with red inserts, and bat wings behind my back, in case you forgot). And immediately a pressing question arises in my head: how, exactly, do I "hit on" them? Just knock on the front door shouting: "Hey, birdies, Daddy's here to check you for foreign dark energy!"? No, well, theoretically, they might open up. Stolas is a polite creature, albeit lecherous, but his wife Stella… that shrew will definitely sic all her hellhounds (or whoever does their security?) on me before I can even say "good morning." And I definitely wouldn't get to talk to all the household members then, and I need to check them all, including the servants: what if Eve's agents have infiltrated them?

O-o-okay… Need a plan.

Well, theoretically, if Octavia invites her new "friend" over, I could quite legally enter the house, meet her "esteemed" parents, get a small tour of their family nest, and, in between, discreetly scan all the inhabitants with the "Eye of Adam." Sounds good. Only, how do I persuade this depressive little owl to go along with such an adventure? Considering that last time I not only introduced myself to her with a "false" name but also set her up pretty badly with her father… Nah, she can't possibly be offended by such an innocent joke, can she? Teenagers love all sorts of pranks, right? Especially the kind that get them locked in their room with lectures about the dangers of casual acquaintances and the purpose of various latex products…

Alright. There's a chance. And if she doesn't agree… Well, fuck it, I'll have to do it the old-fashioned way: sneak into the house invisibly and quietly "probe" everyone. Less elegant, but no less effective.

I create binoculars in my hands: I'm without my combat mask right now, which had a powerful zoom, infrared vision, a smart AI, and even a coffee maker (kidding… or am I?). As I said, the appearance of my little mask remained the same, but Saraqael updated the insides with the latest heavenly magical technology!

Aha… So, judging by the screams and sounds of breaking dishes, Stolas and Stella are actively settling their differences right now, and Octavia… Octavia just went into the kitchen. Excellent. Now I just need to determine which of these dozens of rooms belongs to her...

Invisibly, I fly up to the second-floor windows. I scan them with my gaze, trying to find something that would indicate the room of a depressive goth teenager with family problems. So… this is clearly the parents' bedroom (or one of theirs, I don't know if they sleep together at the moment) – everything is too pompous and sterile. This is some kind of library or study, cluttered with books. And this… yes! Just what I need!

The window was closed, but the curtains were drawn. I peeked inside. The room was… typical for a teenager of her type. Walls covered with posters of some gloomy music bands with unreadable names (whoever designed those fonts belongs in Hell). On the shelves – dusty volumes of various gothic poetry, skulls (hopefully not real), some strange figurines. A desk cluttered with notebooks, pencils, dried-up paintbrushes. In the corner – a stuffed some kind of hell-rodent. In short, the complete set of a young nihilist. But at the same time, the room was even too clean for a teenager. I doubt Octavia lets cleaners into her room, though it's possible.

I fill a small patch of the room with Light, then find myself inside. Okay, now I need to somehow explain my appearance here. The Darkness that demons use for their portal tricks works a bit differently than Light. I haven't quite figured out all the nuances yet, but I understood the main thing: to create a portal or move using Light, I first need to "fill" the destination point with this Light. Create a kind of "anchor." And then – the jump. Demons and sinners, on the other hand, usually use various "plugs," for example, using shadows or monitors for movement, which is not as effective.

I quickly but carefully begin to inspect the room. Not out of idle curiosity, of course, but solely for the purpose of… uh… gathering information about a potential ally! Yes, yes, exactly.

I open the closet: Clothes, mostly black. Dresses, skirts, T-shirts with skulls and band names. A couple of more… revealing outfits, clearly not for everyday wear. Interesting. Under the clothes – several boxes. In one – old toys, teddy bears, kittens and birdies, various dolls. In another – letters. Tied with a pink ribbon. From whom? Her father? Some girlfriend? I won't read them, forgive me, but even for me, that's too much… Yes, yes, in my past life I slaughtered a bunch of people, using them for experiments to create obedient, super-strong puppets, and now I don't want to read a teenage demon's personal correspondence! No, I haven't lost my mind; I'm just very kind and positive! Yes, exactly!

Nightstand by the bed: on it – a framed photograph. Little Octavia, about five or six years old, sitting on Stella's lap, with Stolas standing by her shoulder, hugging his daughter; they are all smiling, quite sincerely. I wonder what went wrong later? Nearby – a battered volume of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Murders in the Rue Morgue." Haven't read it, but the title is telling…

Desk: notebooks with drawings. Quite beautiful, by the way, albeit a bit gloomy and depressing, but definitely beautiful: gray landscapes of forests and clearings, portraits of some demonic creatures, abstract patterns. And this… is this some kind of diary? Locked with a small padlock. Should I pick it? Damn, it's interesting, of course, but haven't I already said what a "heroic hero" I am? Eh…

Okay, I hear footsteps in the hallway. Approaching. I think it's time to stop digging through… uh… a young lady's underwear (figuratively speaking, of course! I'm not that much of a pervert! Tell Lute that!).

I quickly sit down in her rocking chair by the window. Deliberately turning my back to the door. So that later, when she enters, I can dramatically turn around with some epic line. Well, what? Don't I have the right to have a little fun and play the "mysterious stranger"? I do!

Here she is. The door opens, and Octavia enters the room. A young owl-girl. Tall, slender, with long gray-blue feathers instead of hair framing her pale, oval face. Large, expressive reddish-pink eyes with vertical pupils were now full of her usual melancholy and irritation. A thin, slightly hooked beak… uh… nose. Elegant hands with long fingers. She was dressed in a simple black dress and heavy platform boots. She looked… cute? Yes, perhaps. Attractive, even sexy, if you will.

(No, Lute, dear, don't get out your angelic frying pan; I'm just saying this for the sake of a complete description! Really, really! What's that? We'll do without dismemberment today? Phew, thank the Light, I think I dodged a bullet…)

Ahem, let's end the internal monologue. Back to business.

"'Sup, little owl! Miss me?" I slowly turn towards her in the chair, putting on my most cocky and enigmatic smirk. I see recognition flicker in her red eyes. Heh. It seems I really did make an impression on this little depressive bird.

"You!!!" Her voice breaks into a shriek. A mixture of shock, anger, and… something else? Fear, perhaps? Though it doesn't look like it. "What the hell are you doing here?! I'm calling my father right now! He… he'll pluck all your feathers out!"

She says this, but for some reason, she's in no hurry to call for help. Instead, she walks into the room and resolutely closes the door behind her, locking it. Heh.

"Hey, hey, take it easy, little owl, don't yell so loud," I wave my hand at her lazily. "I don't have feathers, by the way, and I just dropped by for a visit… To the little light, so to speak. By the way, you can call me Baal. Sorry I didn't introduce myself properly… I mean, demonically… last time. You understand, circumstances…"

"You did introduce yourself! Only, apparently, you lied!" She crosses her arms over her chest, her red eyes drilling into me with an angry glare. "And then you spun some nonsense about me to Father! Because of you, he now thinks I'm secretly meeting someone!"

She sits on the edge of her bed, right opposite me. Looks angry, but… intrigued?

"Why did you sneak in here? Do you even realize what they'll do to you if they find out you broke into my room?! My mother will tear you to pieces for such a blow to her reputation!"

"Yeah, yeah, they'll atomize me, feed me to the family pet, make a Chtaxidermy out of my hide, I get it," I sigh theatrically, then abruptly jump up from the chair and approach her very closely. She instinctively recoils but looks at me defiantly. "Lis-s-sten, little owl, I have this one… crazy idea. How about you… officially invite me over? Huh?"

"Are you kidding me?!" Octavia looks at me as if I just suggested she dance naked at Lucifer's ball. That is, like I'm a complete idiot.

"Quite possibly," I wink at her. A shadow of a smile flickers across her face for a second, but then she immediately becomes serious again. "But seriously, Octavia… aren't you bored here? Alone? In this huge, empty house where the only entertainment is your parents' daily scandals? Why not brighten up this dreary infernal day with a little, innocent prank? In which all you have to do is pretend that I'm your… well, let's say, unexpected guest? Whom you invited yourself?"

"You… you're a complete psychopath…" she presses her hand to her forehead, but I see laughter dancing in her eyes. It seems she liked the idea after all. "Why did you even decide you could just show up here, in my room, and ask me for something?! After you 'joked' so idiotically last time, Father spent almost a week trying to get any information about you out of me! Who the hell are you anyway?!"

"As I already said, Octavia, you can call me Baal. And I…" I pause, trying to put maximum sincerity into my voice, "I'm just 'the most ordinary' demon who would like to be friends with you. Yes, yes, I know, it doesn't sound very honest coming from an inhabitant of Hell. But… why not? I know what loneliness is. I saw it in your eyes back then, at Loo Loo Land. And I… I would only be too happy to brighten yours up a bit. If you'll let me, of course." I even awkwardly look away. Damn, it's unusual to say such things. And these words… they aren't entirely a lie. I really did feel sorry for her. And I really was lonely in this goddamn new world, despite everyone who supports me.

"…" Octavia looks at me intently, arching an eyebrow slightly. Studying me. Then she catches my awkward, guilty smile… and sighs heavily. "Alright. Let's assume. I'm ready to listen to your 'crazy idea.' But don't forget, I can kick you out of here to hell and back at any moment," now she looks at me with a sly squint. It seems this little bird has quite the character.

"Phew," I exhale with relief and sit back down in the rocking chair opposite her. It seems the first stage is complete. "Well then, Octavia… let's start by getting to know each other a little better. What kind of music do you like? I noticed you have a lot of posters here…"