Hazbin Hotel: Another Adam

"I love you because you have a sweet… popa pipa popa, popa pipa popa…" some hellishly primitive but surprisingly catchy melody blared from the speakers of Blitz's old, rattling wreck. The lyrics were predictably stupid, but the rhythm… the rhythm made my foot tap involuntarily to the beat. Fuck, it's going to get stuck in my head…

"Change this bullshit, Blitz, I'm seriously going to fucking lose my mind!" I finally snapped, glaring angrily at my "personal driver." The little imp, in his unchanging shabby suit and with a moronic grin on his horned face, was intently watching something out the window, casually steering with one hand while picking his nose with the other.

"Fuck, man, this is a hit! My favorite song!" He pouted, offended, but immediately deflated when he caught my withering glare. "Ahem… That is, whatever you say, big boss!"

God, hellish music in this world is a special kind of torture! Either a dumb, rhythmic beat with lyrics about sex, drugs, and violence, or dreary ballads about eternal torment and unhappy love for some horned bastard. There were exceptions, of course – Alastor with his jazz, or some bands trying to cosplay earthly rock – but for the most part… it was just a clusterfuck.

Where am I now, and what, exactly, am I doing in the company of this little brat? Oh, it's very simple! I'm riding in Blitz's fucking, falling-apart-at-the-seams car to one "hellishly important event" – some private party of the local Beelzebub, the one who is the "Mistress of Gluttony and Idleness." And yes, may that bitch hiccup every second for so shamelessly stealing my nickname from my past life! Although, to be honest, I almost didn't give a shit anymore. That "Beelzebub," the student-avenger who became a god, was dead. Permanently. And I… I was Adam. And I had my own, much more global problems.

So why am I going to this party with Blitz and not alone? Several reasons. Firstly, this little imp, as it turned out, was a pretty good source of information and connections in certain circles of Hell (literally the most influential imp I know). Secondly, I was going to use him to… distract a certain overly lustful and jealous owl from his daughter when Octavia and I finally go to that concert on Earth. Yes, yes, I promised her this outing, and I'll keep my word. Despite potential problems with Lute and her frying pan... And thirdly, right now Blitz "graciously agreed" (after a couple of unambiguous hints about his future fate and possible problems with one very angry progenitor of mankind) to drive me to this very party. Because, according to him, his "daughter" Loona would be there, and I, to be honest, have no fucking idea where exactly in this Circle of Gluttony the local Beelzebub holds court or how to even get there. That's the deal.

Actually, Octavia and I had a great time back then. For a second, I even felt… younger? Than a ten-thousand-year-old immortal archangel, burdened with the memory of two past lives and responsibility for the fate of Heaven… Well, yes, I always feel relatively young, thanks to my angelic nature and regular "rejuvenating" procedures from Lute (ahem… forget I said that…), but there was some special, "teenage vibe" to it. We chatted about all sorts of nonsense, laughed, she even showed me drafts of her books (she, it turns out, loved to write) – gloomy, a bit depressing, but quite good, and I also learned some very interesting information from her. When I suggested she go with me to the human world on Friday (for that very concert), she initially lit up, but then somehow wilted and said she couldn't. It turns out that this Friday, all the noble Goetial families will have some important gathering, organized personally by Paimon (Stolas's father, one of the most influential Princes of Goetia, and concurrently – the author of that very grimoire I so successfully "borrowed," in case you forgot) and… the von Eldritch family.

Wait, you don't know who the von Eldritches are? Oh, these are very noteworthy individuals in the local infernal serpentarium. In the cartoon's canon, they were shown fleetingly – as a "friendly" couple to the royal family, roughly on the same level of influence as Lucifer himself. Which, you'll agree, is a very, very high level. Here, in reality, everything was a bit… more interesting.

In short, a reminder for those living under a rock or who simply missed my previous lectures on demonology: each of the Seven Deadly Sins spawned its own, unique "lineage" of lesser demons. Satan – imps, Belphegor – baphomets, Leviathan – some vile aquatic creatures resembling shark-demons, Beelzebub – hellhounds, and so on. Lucifer, by the way, also dabbled in this – he, as I found out, somehow managed to transform some local infernal beasts, infected with primordial Darkness, into sentient beings, which is how the entire Goetia arose, where he is still worshipped as a creator and patron (although he himself, it seems, has long since given up on them, as well as on all of Hell, for that matter), but that's not what we're talking about now.

You remember the local Samael, right? The very same Deadly Sin who rebelled against Lucifer and started that very first War with Heaven? Whom Lucifer then personally finished off, taking his place in the hierarchy of Sins and becoming the personification of Pride?

Well, have you ever thought about whether this Samael created anyone at all? Some race of his own demons? I'll let you in on a terrible secret – he did! And how! Unlike the other Deadly Sins, who mostly went for "quantity," spawning legions of all sorts of petty fiends, Samael decided to take a different path: he bet on "quality" and created a race of so-called "devils" – powerful beings who, in their initial strength, were roughly on par with weak representatives of the Goetia, but at the same time possessed enormous potential for development and over time could reach the level of the Deadly Sins themselves (theoretically, of course).

The problem was that after Samael's defeat, all these "devils" were wiped out to the root: literally an entire sentient race was exterminated. Including by me.

However, two of them still managed to buy their way out. They betrayed Samael almost immediately after his rebellion began, defecting to Lucifer's side: Frederick and Bethesda von Eldritch. They had gotten along pretty well with the King of Hell even before that, so they managed to suck up to him in time, save their lives, and even get some pretty good perks after the war.

About two hundred and fifty years ago, this enterprising couple first had a daughter, and thirty years later – a son. Whom they named Helsa and Seviathan. And these two, by the way, are very good acquaintances of a certain Infernal Princess we all know, and Seviathan, in fact, once dated her, before she met Vaggie. Such are the hellish gossips.

(Author's note: Regarding Seviathan's relationship with Charlie – that's canon, guys. That's how it is. And yes, your humble servant had to make up the rest…)

And so this von Eldritch family, over the past centuries, has become so overgrown with connections, influence, and power that they are now at the very top of the Goetia hierarchy, roughly on par with Paimon himself, which kind of hints that these guys are very serious, and if they are up to something together with Paimon… it could be interesting.

Such is the fascinating story. And these weirdos are hosting some "mega-important" meeting of all noble Goetial families on Friday to announce something there. As you understand, this is an excellent opportunity for me to check all these "birdies" and "beasties" with my "Eye of Adam." This way, I can immediately weed out all the "high-ranking" idiots working for Eve, and after that, I can visit the Deadly Sins and give them a good brainwashing regarding cooperation with my ex.

By the way, about the check. After I had a nice chat with Octavia and "rode off into the sunset," I still decided to pay a visit to a certain horned radio deer…

2 hours ago. Alastor's Radio Tower

Alastor's radio tower was a strange but stylish structure in its own way – a tall, thin tower of dark red brick, crowned with an intricate network of antennas and some blinking lights. It was attached to the main hotel building and looked as if it had grown right out of it, like some demonic mushroom. Inside, at the very top, was his studio – a spacious, round room with huge panoramic windows offering a view of all of Pentagram City. The walls were hung with old microphones, gramophone records, some incomprehensible diagrams, and newspaper clippings from the Great Depression era. In the center – a massive oak table with professional radio equipment, and behind it – a high leather armchair, in which the Radio Demon himself was currently seated, relaxing after his broadcast.

"Well hello, stag beetle, how are you doing here, not bored?" I sauntered into the studio without even bothering to knock. The door, naturally, was unlocked. Alastor didn't like to be disturbed, but for me, I think, he'd make an exception.

"Adam?" He slowly turned in his chair, his perpetual smile widening even further, though surprise flickered in his eyes. "What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe such a… sudden visit?"

He was dressed in his unchanging red suit with a bow tie, a red monocle gleaming on his eye, and in his hands, as always, he held his microphone-cane.

"Yes, yes, Daddy Adam himself has graced your abode," I smirked, walking into the center of the room and plopping down into one of the visitor's armchairs. "You don't have to bow or applaud. Not yet, anyway…"

"Oh, I wasn't planning to," Alastor chuckled his trademark radio laugh. "You didn't just come here for no reason, did you, my dear friend? Did something happen? Or did you simply decide to honor my humble dwelling with your sacred presence?"

"You guessed it, little deer. Not just for no reason," I became more serious. "Remember, we had a little… chat recently? About your… undesirable connections?"

Alastor's smile faltered for a moment; something akin to… anxiety? flickered in his ruby eyes. A strange feeling for such a self-assured bastard as him.

"And?.. Did you find a way to break my deal?"

"Well, as for completely breaking your deal with Eve, there's no final solution yet," I immediately disappointed him. He visibly deflated but didn't let the smile leave his face. "However, I've decided to start a systematic roundup of losers like you who have fallen into her net." I took out a small silver medallion from my pocket in the shape of a stylized eye with a bright blue, pulsating crystal in the center. "We'll test its functionality on you now, so to speak, in field conditions…"

I activated the artifact, sending a small pulse of Light into it. The crystal in the center of the "Eye" flared brighter, and a thin blue beam shot out, which I slowly began to move towards Alastor.

"Faggot search system activated…" my custom voiceover sounded from the medallion's speaker. "Bee… Bee… Bee-Bee… Bee-Bee-Bee-Bee-BEE-BEE-BEE-BEEEEEP! Faggot found!"

"A most… amusing device," Alastor's right eye twitched nervously, but the smile still didn't leave his face. He clearly wasn't thrilled with my "joke." "And what do you intend to do with… those to whom it reacts so violently? Isolate them? Destroy them?"

He casually pointed his microphone-cane at the "Eye" in my hand.

"It varies," I shrugged. "If they're really some finished scumbags who willingly serve Eve and do crazy shit – then, most likely, I'll be tearing their heads off. But if they're… 'victims of circumstance,' like you, who were forced or deceived – then yes, I'll 'isolate' them. Temporarily. Until I deal with the main problem."

"And you intend to… 'isolate' me as well?" he narrowed his eyes slightly, and an unconcealed threat sounded in his voice. The air in the studio imperceptibly grew heavier; shadows danced in the corners.

But that no longer impressed me. At this point, this radio deer's threats seemed like child's play.

"Don't piss yourself, strawberry pimp," I waved him off. "You're some fiercely rare and valuable beast. Unlike Asmodeus, for example, they added a line to your contract about 'concealing information,' which kind of hints that in my beloved crazy ex's plans, you occupy a much more important place than even a Deadly Sin. Logically, it wouldn't hurt to finish you off, just in case," I put on a thoughtful expression, watching Alastor tense noticeably, his smile becoming even more strained. "But, firstly, I'm interested in finding out why she made such a special contract with you, and secondly… Charlie will be upset if I off you. And I really don't want to upset that sweet little girl. She lives in Hell as it is, you understand," I waved my hand vaguely in the air.

"Most… reassuring," Alastor exhaled with visible relief, his shadows calming down a bit. "Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"Yep. I'm sorry, little deer, but I doubt I'll be able to solve your contract problem anytime soon. Short of killing Eve herself, of course, or forcing her to break it herself. It's all too much of a conceptual bullshit – all these 'demonic deals' of yours, you understand."

"Not even the Seraphim can help?" Alastor frowned; it seemed he was still hoping for something.

"Even God himself (if he even exists) probably can't help here," I spread my hands. "But just in case, if Eve starts doing some really crazy shit through you, I'll just isolate you in my pocket dimension. Until I deal with my ex-terrorist (they're both like that, those two of mine… Fuck.), so don't worry about it. The main thing is – if there's something really important, some inside info on Eve's plans – give me a hint. Okie-dokie?" I extended my hand to him. Not to make a contract, no. Just… as a sign of a certain truce and mutual, albeit very specific, respect.

"Agreed, Adam," Alastor shook my hand surprisingly firmly, with a serious expression.

"Well, that's wonderful," I rose from the armchair. "See you around, little deer. Don't get bored here."

I turned and headed for the exit, managing to hear Alastor's quiet, thoughtful whisper behind me just as I reached the door:

"Until we meet again… First Man…"

Again in the car, again with Blitz

"How can anyone even like this bullshit?! What the fuck is 'Pipa-popa'?!" I said irritably to Blitz when he finally turned off that crap, starting to flick through radio channels.

"Who gives a fuck about the lyrics! This shit really bangs!" he waved me off, casually turning the steering wheel with one hand and nearly hitting some daydreaming demon who had the misfortune of driving onto the sidewalk on his unicycle. And that was a demon, so the guy had no immortality, unlike the sinners from the Pride Ring… Lucky bastard that Blitz managed to swerve at the last moment.

"You need to listen to normal music, Blitz!" I leaned back in my seat, glancing at the "sweet" landscapes of the Gluttony Ring. "Where the lyrics have 'meaning,' and the music really rocks, instead of making you want to clean your ears with holy water! Fuck, the roof of this car is so low, I've hit my head for the third time already!"

"Oh, come on, Adam! What kind of 'normal' music are you talking about?" Blitz glanced at me mockingly. "I bet a hundred bucks that in your Heaven, they only play some dreary, depressing bullshit about 'goodness, love, and all-forgiveness'! Fuck that!"

And then I thought about it. And he was, to some extent, right. In this world, music, as I had already found out, means much more than in my past one. Here, it can influence emotions, reality, even magic…

But are there even any songs from my past world here? From that first, human life? "Kish"? "Aria"? "AC/DC"? "The Beatles"? "Black Sabbath"?

I reached into my updated helmet-mask, activated a search across heavenly and hellish internet resources. After several minutes of intensive surfing, I had to admit – zero information. Complete zero. As if these bands, these songs, had never existed. This, of course, wasn't one hundred percent proof of their absence in this world – I'll have to look on Earth when I get the chance, the odds are better there, but still… it felt kind of insulting.

"Hey, Blitz, want to hear some real heavenly rock?" I grinned slyly.

"What, seriously? Does such a thing exist?" the imp glanced at me incredulously.

"You bet!" I fiddled with the helmet settings again and blasted one of the concert recordings… of the previous Adam, and the music, I tell you, was… powerful. Heavy guitar riffs, killer drums, Adam's own hoarse, strained vocals… Real, quality heavy metal, only with lyrics about Light, battles with demons, and Adam's own fucking awesomeness... Which caused bouts of shame in the not-so-narcissistic me…

"W-well…" Blitz listened dumbfoundedly for a few seconds, then turned off the radio. "Not bad… It rocks…"

"That's more like it! You owe me a hundred bucks, little fucker!" I laughed, watching his sour, irritated mug.

"Well, fuck me…" he whispered, but didn't turn off the music, continuing to nod his head to the beat.

It looks like we're almost at Beelzebub's mansion. Well then, Beelzebub, my dear namesake… Get ready to meet your guests. Daddy Adam has a lot of questions for you…

popa pipa popa… Fuck, it really did get stuck in my head!