Midnight Spiders

from /hhg/ Hazbin Hotel general #480
Fucken, whatever... I don't know. Just try to keep the thread civil. Edition
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"Everyone's gone to bed?"
"Nope."
"Just us two cool dudes, facing the night, under a bright full moon, cold breeze blowing our cigarette smoke away. Right?"
"You got that right."
"Just a couple o' extras. Nobodies with no names, runnin' from the law, life, and the only loves we ever had."
"Yeah, so what ya doin'? Just chillin'?"
"I just finished dinner, so I wanna do a bit of writing. I think my friend and I are doing a bit of podcasting tonight."
"Mmmm, neat, I was thinking about doing some writin' in here bud, maybe we could do something together?"
"Oh cool! Whatcha workin' on?"
"Hmmm, wanna work on a little Arackniss tale in here, just anything that comes to our heads, nothing porny, just something good, something chill?"
"Sure, if you'd like! I'm running out of pics of him, though. I'm also working on my own thing, so might be a touch slow."
>Dressed in your usual garment of striped brown slacks and suspenders, you begin to wish you’d swung by home to grab a coat first. Or at least a shirt. Your demonic transformation has left you nigh immune to the touch of heat and flames, but the bite of cold affects you all the same. And this afternoon’s winds, reminiscent of Earth’s Autumn blusters, were threatening to unman you.
>You go grab some liquor from under the table, you begin to think about on what you wanna do for tonight, you could go rob somebody, torture someone, maybe just chill with some gang or take a nice stroll.
>You uncap the cheap booze and take a swig, You manage half a mouthful before the liquor stops and, peering down its neck, find it empty. You fling it from your grasp, shattering it against the back wall, though you don't bother to check. That was the last of your booze. Time to go get some more - no matter the method.
>You go outside and wander off in the middle of the night, you lit a cig and you look around for any liquor store near you, you walk by some demons eating some stranger, huddled by it.
>The smoke curls in a peculiar trail, darting first this way, then back the other, before dispersing into the sky. Strange winds for a strange night. You watch these cannibals gorging themselves, scowling in disgust. No better than animals, this lot. Not even worth the lead to put them out of their misery. You pass them by, hand still itching towards your gun, just in case they decide to jump you too. They wouldn't find you such easy prey.
>The demons look your way and they start twitching and then stop eating the stranger on the ground and they slowly go toward you, they are covered in guts, they're gonna kill you.
>The first hint was the silence - where there had been the wet sounds of feasting, suddenly there was nothing. For a moment you give them the benefit of the doubt - there's no way they'd be stupid enough to jump a guy packin' heat, even one as unassuming as yourself. But the footsteps, picking up in tempo as they hunted you, just sealed the deal.
>You take another long puff of your cigarette, pretending not to notice their approach. The fastest one was nearly upon you, but you knew the value of patience, and if you killed him too fast, the rest might scatter. You wait until his footsteps disappear, and you know that he's lunging towards you, before you finally pivot.
>Three hands, three pistols, and a whole lotta fury. The first one doesn't even know what hit him, crumpling to the ground and riddled with holes. The next two try to skid to a halt, turning to flee, but you're quicker. You nail one in the back of the head, quick and clean. The other goes down bloodier - a bullet through the heart, an arm, and then the last digging into his bowels. He gurgles as he goes down.
>The last one had hung back, more timid than the others, if a cannibal could even be called that. He's already running away - you fire a shot, but it ricochets off a the lamppost by his head. You're all outta juice, and have to pull your fourth gun.
>You manage to snag him in the leg just as he turns the corner, his pitiful wail a proof of your success.
>You could chase him down... but you can't be bothered. You've wasted enough time already, and you'd already began to cool down. It had felt good to let off a little steam.
"I gotta go for a little while, pick up my brother and stuff. I'll be around later mate."
"Awrite, see ya later alligator."
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"I'm back-ish. How's your butt?"
"Doing good, you?"
"Great! Just recorded our podcast. It was a lot of fun."
"Badass, wanna continue our story?"
"Sure, if ya like! I'm around for a little while. Basically outta Arackniss pics, though."
"Okay bud."
>After you mopped the floor with those freaks, you smile with a shit eating grin and walk away, the feeling of hurting them was so adrenaline rushing.
>You make your way through town with your eyes peeled open and wait for any more punks that might wanna tackle you, so far there is none, you finally make it to the liquor store and go look for something hard and sweet.
>You find the store just in time - it's starting to rain. A bell sounds as you enter, but only for a half chime as it seems to be broken. In fact, the whole store seems half run-down. 'Beggar's Booze', the sign had said. Fitting.
>You walk down what few isles there are, noting the empty shelves and half-drunk bottles, before finally coming across something remotely drinkable. An apple liquer. But... that won't be hard enough on its own. You grab some whisky, too. The shitty, cheap kind. It doesn't make much different to you.
>You head over to the counter. It's clearly designed for taller patrons, and your head only just clears its surface. You can't see anyone behind the counter, or even in the shop itself. You put the bottles down and bang on the old wood.
>"Hey, anyone wanna serve me in this shitty joint?"
>No one had answered you, all the people in there were gone, you decide to fucking steal and walk outside, it was raining a bit harder but you didn't care, suddenly you get the idea to go get your coat at someplace else.
>There's an alley you come across and there are some more cannibals, there's more of them and they all look a bit bigger than you.
>Fuck it, you think, if they don't wanna take your money, then you ain't gonna give it to them. Not like it wasn't dirty anyway...
>The rain slicks back your hair and gets into your eyes. Lucky you had a few to go around.
>You uncap your booze and toss the lids. You won't be needing them. You take long sip of whisky, then chase it with the liqueur. It burns on the way down, but at least it helped with the cold a little.
>When you come across the cannibal thugs, you have no patience left for their shit, and you can't be fucked going around them. Still drinking, you pull out a gun and blast the closest one in the head, sending his brains splattering the walls behind him.
>'If any of you punks so much as look at me, you're getting the same thing.'
>You keep your head straight, chin high, and walk right down the middle of the alley. The tension is thick, but they all remain still. You can feel their eyes boring into your head as you pass by, wondering what you might taste like. Lead, you think. 'Cause that's all they're gonna get from you.
>You reach the end of the alley, and as soon as you've turned the corner you hear the sounds of feasting behind you. No doubt they'd turned on their recently deceased friend. Savages.
>You keep on walking through the rain and you are thinking to yourself that maybe after you gather your stuff, you should have something to eat, maybe you'll order out or do it at a restaurant.
>You look at the place surrounding you, the dense red fog and the rain pouring down around the tattered up buildings make for a relaxing sight, it was starting to warm up just a tad, but it was still cold out.
>You catch a bus and go inside to take a seat, you keep your head down and you have a watchful eye on things while in there.
>"Hey... hey!"
>You look up. Your brain was fuzzy - you'd been sitting there a while, you knew, but not for how long. Looking down, you find the whisky bottle empty, and just a tiny bit of apple liqueur left. It had been a while, then. Fuck.
>"Hey, bozo, this is the last stop before I head back to base. You gettin' off, or do I gotta make you get off?"
>Looking around, you realise you were the last one on the bus. You hope off the seat, leaving the empty whiskey bottle behind. Lower hands in your pockets, you shuffle to the end of the bus and hop off.
>"Fuckin' alcoholics..."
>As the bus takes off again you drink the last of your alcohol, smash the bottle on a brickwall, then jam its serrated edge into one of the busses wheels. That jerk wouldn't find out until he finished his shift. You couldn't care less.
>The rain is heavier now. You're practically soaked, head to toe. Stay out much longer and you might catch something nasty. But you had absolutely no idea where you were. Home could be hours away, or just around the corner. Your head was fuzzy... what a fuckin' night.
>You wondered to yourself "Ughhh.... Where the fuck is this?" As you make your way in the down pouring rain, you notice you are inside of a large park, you feel a little sick but not enough to gag.
>You say to yourself "Fucking hell, I need something or I'm gonna catch a fever or some shit." You decide that walking through the park would help, after all, people tend to leave those types of things just lying there in the park, yeah clothes should be there.
>It would not be long before you come across some stray demon dogs, their skin is mostly gone and they have long sharp pointed tails, their teeth are sharp and dripping with purple substance.
>Christ, even just walking was a pain in the ass. You were really fucked up by this point, you had to squint just to see right, and the rain was making seeing anything past a few metres a real bitch.
>Your arms were shaking. That wasn't a good sign. You come across a statue in the park, some ridiculous, gaudy thing that some cocksucking rich-folk put up just to piss on the peasants. You couldn't tell who it was, but its shape did provide a bit of makeshift shelter.
>You sit down beneath it, glad to be out of the rain for even just a moment. You even find that you've sat on a mostly dry bundle of rags. It probably stunk, but you were beyond caring. You pull some of them around your shoulders and huddle down. Maybe things were starting to look up for you tonight.
>That's when you see the dogs, growling and padding cautiously towards you. You sigh. You're not even sure you have any bullets left. You were counting your shots, and you hadn't brought any extra ammo. Ah, well. Whatever would happen, would happen. You wait for them to get close...
>"Want some of this pooches? I ain't scared of you, c'mon!" You say as you look toward them, then a few dogs run at you and by reflex you shoot them in their friggin' heads and you cautiously walk around the ones that come closer towards you to try to bite you.
>One pops out of nowhere and tried to pin you to the ground, it gnashes its teeth but you shot it to pieces and threw the baby off of ya. Then you shoot the rest of the motherfuckers with quick precision and you beat up a dead dog by punching it and you yell at it.
-
"Haha, fuck Anon, you make Arackniss sound like a lunatic. Maybe he is a lunatic. With anger issues!"
"I might call it here, though. I'm getting tired, gotta head to bed soon. Thanks for the good time, though."

>Arackniss letting out his anger on dead dogs.
"Poor boy, he needs someone to cuddle him."
And thank you back, have a good rest bro.
Nini, Nissy. You're a good big bro when you wanna be.