4chan Hazbin Hotel story - The Unseen

from /hhg/ - Hazbin Hotel #297
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How to piss off lucifer
>Insult him
>Insult lilith
>Insult charlie
>Remind him that he got beat in a fiddle match by some hick in Georgia
>Play got your nose with him
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>howtogetyourselfkill101.png
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Wonder how many suicidal (and impatient enough) daemons have attempted suicide via fallen angel?
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>There was a certain class of sinner, known by many nicknames, depending on who you asked
>"The Despondent"
>"The Forlorn"
>"The Pitiful"
>No matter what you called them, they were at once ever-present and yet barely there
>On every street, in every crowd, you could find one of them if you looked hard enough
>Eyes downcast, shoulders sagged in eternal exhaustion
>The forms they took in demonhood were unlike those of other sinners
>Small, colorless, almost transparent.
>Hell as a whole barely noticed them, even as they stood in the midst of a crowd, you really had to pay attention if you wanted to find them
>But most demons had no desire to find them, and they did not want to be found, and so they simply drifted through the inferno in sullen silence while the rest of demonkind fought and fucked and drank and cackled in their unceasing madness

>The most notice that was ever paid to them was when they tried to do away with themselves
>A sinner would suddenly become acutely aware of a bloody smear of viscera that had just dropped from the top floor of a nearby building
>An imp might find themselves stumbling over a body lying in a pool of its own blood, the throat slit so deeply it exposed the spine
>An overlord in the midst of a turf war might empty his magazine and find that his opponent was unharmed, but a nondescript bit of...nothing was slumping over, perforated with bullet wounds

>Soon though, the corpses would rise back up, with no trace of the injuries that had lain them low only a few hours ago
>These were newly arrived despairing souls, who had yet to understand that death no longer had any meaning to them
>They would howl and scream, cursing anything and everything in sight for denying them the escape they so desperately sought
>Eventually, after many failed attempts to find the bliss of nonexistence, they would give up even on that, and simply blend back into the landscape, too drained to even feel anger about their eternity of pain.
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>Then they'd learn about the annual cleanses
>They'd reclaim hope
>Hope that they could truly end it all; feel and think no more
>They'd look to the arrival of the exterminators with a sick sort of gleeful anticipation.
>At last, an escape!

>But there was no reprieve to be found at the tip of an angel's spear either
>The warrior angels paid even less mind to the despairing souls than their fellow demons did
>If you managed to keep an eye on one of them long enough to corner one of them and force them to reveal how they'd made it through the extermination so effortlessly, they would simply say
>"It looked right through me"
>The only way they could hope to meet their end in a cleanse was to hurl themselves in front of a blade meant for someone else
>Urban legends developed of unprotected sinners being saved from erasure by mysterious figures who took the hit for them
>Much of Hell began to quietly hope that there were Forlorn, or Pitiful, or Despondent, or whatever epithet they knew them by, close at hand whenever they went out, on the off chance their own suicidal urges might save their hides in turn.
>Certain particularly vain demons even convinced themselves that they were favored by the mysterious entities, and got themselves erased taking risks they otherwise wouldn't have
>The Despairing didn't care either way. They hated their fellow sinners and demons
>At least as much as they hated themselves
>And the dull-witted angels too stupid to strike at a free target
>And every other thing in creation

>They would revert back to their nearly-vegetative state for a long time
>But then, they would hear of the "fallen angels"
>Beings somewhere in between the useless demons, able to see them when they cared to but unable to end them, and the equally useless exterminator angels, able to end them but unable to perceive them
>Lucifer, his lieutenants, their legions, there were so many avenues they might escape by
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>The first time that the average sinner would see them was when they attempted to goad a fallen angel into attacking them
>A crowd would part as a previously unremarkable figure in the midst of them suddenly began to hurl stones and insults in equal measure at a fallen angel's procession through the streets
>A servant would suddenly notice a face they didn't recognize lunging toward their master
>There might be a brief panic before someone realized what a hopelessly uneven fight it was
>They were invariably unprotected and poorly armed
>There was no chance of them doing any real harm to such mighty beings
>They didn't truly seek to do harm to anyone but themselves
>Slinging the cruelest, most biting insults about the fallen angel's flimsy allegiance, tainted heritage, history of treachery and rejection
>Striking viciously, but never inflicting anything more than a superficial injury
>Their hope was to enrage the angel
>To infuriate them to the point that they would exercise the heavenly power that still lingered in them to unmake souls
>But even that was denied them
>The corrupted angels showed no wrath, no spite or vindictiveness
>They never so much as raised a hand against The Despairing
>No matter what they heard or how much blood they drew
>They couldn't bear to engage in the sort of violence the poor souls craved
>They could only weep