Big Brothers is Back part 2

from /hhg/ - Hazbin Hotel #376 and #379
part 1: https://pastebin.com/LwRxTRNH
part 3: https://pastebin.com/AfxC5i7f
Dictator charlie dealing with her inner demons part 1: https://pastebin.com/eKiaizwB
Dictator charlie dealing with her inner demons part 2: https://pastebin.com/y2Zrm8e7
Big Brothers is Back - de-conditioning part 1: https://pastebin.com/mW1E0BCD
Big Brothers is Back - de-conditioning part 2: https://pastebin.com/T8gpjxCJ
part 4: https://pastebin.com/uHK1m26T
DC timeline Octavia: https://pastebin.com/tmxYDp4t
DC what if part 1: https://pastebin.com/pErwRZ58
Timeline shenanigans happens: https://pastebin.com/C1jgFV52
-----------------
>Who is this monster wearing your sister's skin?

>She looks like Charlie
>Her voice is like Charlie's, in spite of the cool tone with which she speaks
>But she's not Charlie
>She's 'Queen Charlotte'
>If you're lucky
>If one is not lucky, she's 'Your Majesty'
>If you're especially un-lucky, she's just 'Master'

>And you have crossed paths with those who addressed her neither by name or title, but only by way of hysteric screams and pleas for mercy

>She doesn't dress like Charlie either
>Charlie was a fan of bow ties and bright colors
>Her outfits seemed to smile as brightly as she did
>But this person wears a long, dully-colored coat
>That wide-eyed, rosy-cheeked, pearly-fanged smile is shaded by a high-peaked cap decorated with an unfamiliar sigil

>"Anon"

>Your sister speaks as she holds up a little paper-wrapped parcel

>"Remember these?"

>You do
>The candies you used to share when you were children
>Even though your status afforded you the ability to lay hands on any sweet you wanted in as great a quantity as you wanted, these 'low class' little candies were what you both had craved the most
>She's holding out your favorite flavor, and has her favorite flavor clutched tightly in the other hand
>You accept it, but you don't begin to tear at the wrapper until she goes after her treat
>It's such a small thing, but you're afraid to do anything around her now, lest you somehow provoke her
>You're afraid of HER
>The spritely little thing who once upon a time would greet everyone with a hug and a song
>Who now wears the mask of a tyrant
>She's almost cartoonish in appearance
>Close your eyes and picture a 'dictator' costume for a masquerade, that's how she dresses now
>Not a trace of subtlety, though perhaps that part shouldn't surprise you
>You'd be tempted to laugh at her over-the-top-monstrous look if you hadn't witnessed all the actions that back up her tyrannical flair
>"What's wrong? It isn't melted is it?"

>She's already popped her candy in her mouth

>No, no, it's in great shape

>Even if it had been melted, you wouldn't have complained, lest she find someone to blame for it
>You tear the wrapper off cleanly in one piece (that had been a signature move of yours as a child) and pop it in your mouth
>It's as delicious as you remember
>It sends you right back to your youth
>You hate it

>You recall every time you'd refused to play dolls with her because you were too macho for that
>You remember every time you told her to pipe down with all the singing because you needed to concentrate or wanted to take a nap
>You recall every time you wouldn't brush her hair because she was 'clingy' and 'annoying'
>You think back to embarking on your fool's errand in Purgatory
>You consider the butterfly effect

>What went wrong?

>What was the critical moment?

>When did you fail her as a brother in just the right way to start the snowball rolling down toward this nightmare?
----------
>You lean against the railing of the balcony as the sweet dissolves away on your tongue
>You look out at the endless acres of towering grey blocks, stretching on into infinity, that house the sinner population
>This isn't Hell, not as you knew it
>If you didn't have demons you recognized and trusted telling you that you were, most definitely, back in Hell, you might think you'd never even left Purgatory

>Whatever it was precisely that you did to kill the girl you'd grown up with, you did it well, and with perfect timing

>This bleak landscape, the bleak conditions everyone exists under, the bleakness infecting every inch of this afterlife
>It's beyond the worst you could have ever imagined
>And you're The Crown Prince of Hell, you're supposed to have a pretty good idea of how bad things can get
>She's really outdone herself

>"Tsch-tsch"

>Charlie smacks her lips as the last of her candy disappears

>"Beat ya to it~"

>Oh, right
>You used to have little contests to see which of you could finish their candy off quicker
>Once upon a time you could really give her a run for her money, but you'd forgotten
>It's just been sitting on your palate like a stone this whole time
>Your raise your hands, conceding defeat
>You gulp away the last of your sweet
>You know that the bitter aftertaste it leaves is all in your head

>"Rematch?"

>The dictator reaches into her pocket and fishes about for a moment
>She extends her hand forward and uncurls her fingers to reveal another pair of candies
>Somewhat unfamiliar wrappers
>Not your favorites, but instead a couple of obscure flavors
>Difficult to find, stocked only sporadically by a handful of shops around Pentagram City
>Even if they weren't that great compared to your top choices, you can remember the thrill you'd share whenever you managed to find one
>Like spotting a shooting star
>A tiny little victory against mundanity
---
>"Which one do you want?"

>Either is fine

>You pluck the wrapper off in one go again, ending with a little flourish this time
>You twist and roll it, one handed, in just such a way that it happens to form a little flower shape
>Sort of
>This was always one of your lesser tricks
>You can understand perfectly how it should work in theory, but you never did quite perfect the practice
>Charlie still seems quite pleased with the little scrap of upcycled origami
>Her eyes shine with delight

>And yet, it's all wrong
>No, not wrong
>Backwards
>Yes, it's all backwards
>You've got it figured out now
>Before, her eyes were always alight, full of warmth, their brilliance only occasionally dimmed by sorrow
>But now, they're almost empty
>Dark voids, just barely brightened by a flicker of the person you used to know whenever you do something to make her recall days long gone

>It's all been turned on its head

>She reaches out to take the little trash flower you've put together and tucks it into her lapel
>It looks horribly out of place amidst the deep colors and metallic gleam that decorates the rest of her outfit
>The both of you begin your candy eating rematch
>You feel Queen Charlotte's arms slip around you and she pulls you into a tight hug
>She speaks through a mouthful of confection

>"I'm so glad you're back, Anon."

>You return the hug
>You echo the sentiment
>But as you look over her shoulder at the expanse of soulless concrete stretching out beyond the horizon, you know you're lying

>You know you never should have left
---
>Anon realizing he wasn't there when she needed him most
Feels bad man
--
>You shouldn't have left, Anon
>Why did you leave?
--
Yeah, why DID anon go to purgatory in the first place?
--
In an attempt to see if it can be restarted, and have the worthy sinners go through there, instead of being mass killed by Exterminators, or dick around in a shaky start-up that was the Hotel.
-----
Lets have some sad
"I wish I was there to help you."
>Charlies false smile falls
>"What do you mean."
"Whatever hurt you and made you like this, I should have been there for you."
>"Shut up."
"Wha-"
>"Shut UP!"
>Charlies face turns truly demonic in a flash of genuine anger
>"Never fucking say that Anon! Never in my life would I ever want you to witness what I saw! I watched Hell truly burn, I watch the supposedly pure angels decend from the heavens to destroy EVERYTHING! I WATCHED MOM AND DAD DIE THAT DAY SO SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
>Tears are streaming down her face
>"Don't say stupid stuff like that...-hic- you're always speaking before you think..."
>Anon quietly wraps his sister in a hug
"Well, I'm here now."
>She returns the hug, and this time
>It's genuine
------------------------------------------------
How is dictator charlie going to handle the flood of courtship requests directed towards anon from the remaining nobles of hell? Gotta keep the bloodline going and its obvious she isnt going to have kids
-
Well, no-one's going to even ATTEMPT at courting Anon (well, no-one with any amount of brains), and Charlie basically made herself dictator-for-life.
She'll hold out until Doomsday.
-
>Anon decides to help Charlie with her paperwork
>He picks up a form she just signed
"Charlie?"
>"Yes?"
"Did you read that? Like, actually read it?"
>"I did."
"This is a marriage request."
>"I het sent those often, nobles want my approval for any marriages that goes on between their houses."
"Charlie this is is a request for me to marry someone I've never met."
>Charlie stops and takes the papers from Anon
>"...denied."
-
>Anon pauses for a moment and peers back into some long-abandoned segments of his memory
>He gently takes the paperwork back and rereads it
>Something clicks

>"Actually, don't we know this demon? The name seems sort of familiar..."

>Charlie stops scribbling at the latest sheet in her endless stack of paperwork

>"We crossed paths with them every once in a while, right?"
>"They seemed nice enough"
>"Do you think they'd really-"

>Charlie snatches the papers back and clenches her fist around them
>They burst into flame with a resounding orchestral stab

>"I said..."

>Smoke rises up from between her fingers and ashes slip out from beneath her palm

>"...DENIED"
-
Lets get more shit going

>Some of the remaining ars gotia demons visit
>Paimon visits the most and was the first to visit after hearing of Anons return
>Charlie and Anon meet with the demon
>"Uncle PaiPai!"
>Anon picks up the trap demon into a hug
>"Hello Paimon."
>Paimon lets out a small laugh after Anon puts him down
>"Charlie please call me Uncle or PaiPai, you don't need to be so formal! And Anon just look at you! I haven't seen you in almost ten years!"
>Charlie notices Paimon looking him up and down
>And all but gawk at Anons crotch
>"And you grew up so nicely..."
>>"Paimon. Cool it."
>"Alright alright, so! How are my favorite little royals doing?"
-
>Anon is happier than he has been in a while
>Unlike so many demons he knew before he departed, Paimon doesn't seem to have changed
>He's just as Anon remembers
>A fey, flirtatious scholar whose playful banter belies his brilliant expertise on many a subject
>His favorite teacher
-
"Why are we doing sex ed? Im well over 180 years old."
>"You just need some direct experience Anon, now get the lube and don't bother putting on a condom"
Charlie does not approve of all of Paimons lessons
--------------------------------------------
>Anon looks at the armored demon in front of him
"Um... Hello?"
>The imp looks at him and salutes
>"Sir"
>The imps voice is distorted
"Why are you following me?"
>"I was assigned as your guard and guide."
"What do I call you?"
>"Overwatch commander 1789."
"I meant a name. Who are you?"
>Anon can see the imp shift slightly in discomfort
>"My name is... Moxxie, I think."
"You think?"
>"Yes."
"Well, nice to meet you Moxxie."

>Later that day Anon enters Charlies office
>She's filling out paperwork
"Charlie, what's wrong with the overwatch demons?"
>She momentarily halts her work before going right back to it
>She doesn't even look up from her work
>"If there are any problems with their performances please tell me what is wrong."
"It's not that, it's just... I don't know how to word this correctly. Whenever I asked any overwatch about their jobs they answered without a problem."
>Anon looks to his sister. Who is still working away
"But whenever i ask them about anything outside of their work they struggle to even get a straight answer out. Some can't even remember their names. What's wrong with them?"
>"Overwatch officers and soldiers go through routine reeducation. The process isn't perfect."
>Anon doesn't know how to respond to that
>That's how he's felt about much of what Charlie has done
>He silently exits the office and heads to his room
-
>The limousine coasts to a gentle halt as you reach your destination
>You reach for the door handle, but someone on the other side beats you to it
>Right, right
>You're a prince
>Something like opening your own door is beneath you

>This never was your favorite part of royal life
>All the absurd delicacy and deference paid to you for no reason other than your name
>"Musn't let the mighty prince sully his delicate hands by doing ANYTHING for himself"
>You can't say for certain that you were successful at it, but you did always try to be one to lead from the front, rather than direct from the rear
>In hindsight, that's probably what got you rolling on that senseless mission to Purgatory in the first place
>No matter, can't undo that now
>You have a new mission now
>A diplomatic mission
>Should be easy enough

>Stepping out of the vehicle, you thank the imp who was kind enough to get the door for you
>You move to the side to make room for your bodyguard as you hear their armor rustle and rattle
>Overwatch Commander 1789
>Or "Moxxie" as you prefer to call him
>Though it has proven something of a chore to get him to respond to his own name and not his rank and number
>He looks up at you expectantly

>"All is in order, Sir?"
-
>You nod
>All is in order
>you look over the grounds AND TAKE stock of the huge number of 'servants' occupying Prince Stolas' vast estate
>This is the Hell you remember
>Irregular, chaotic, passionate, lurid, colorful
>You see imps acting like imps, hellhounds acting like hellhounds
>Dressing like them too
>There's not much in the way of coarse gray fabric and soul-crushing media here
>Traditional imp sigils and dress abound, succubi cuddle and flirt, devils ring out cacophonous warrior's songs on their horns
>It's more Hellish than you've seen in quite a long time, more Hellish than Hell was before you left even
>At a distance, at least

>The air cools considerably at your and Moxxie's approach
>Your mere presence, coupled with the stark regalia that your sister insisted you wear and your companion's merciless, hard-edged armor, seems to suck all the madness right out of the air, though you don't mean to
>Whenever you draw near, demons abruptly end their conversations, stand up straight, and either cast their eyes down in deference or lock their gazes to yours in anticipation of an order, depending on their station
>It's been long enough since you had to engage in courtly behavior that you've forgotten whatever lordly turn of phrase you're supposed to whip out to set them at ease
>Instead, you just smile and nod in acknowledgement and hope that's enough to assure them that you haven't come to upset the apple cart
>Moxxie remains at your side, unphased by any and all, with his hand resting on his weapon. Calm, but alert, ready to act at the slightest provocation
>No such thing is called for though
>No one here is interested in provocation
>The vast crowds of idle "servants" that Stolas has taken under his care to spare them your sister's merciless regimen parts before you easily
>The few of them who are actually employed in any real capacity are quite helpful in directing you to their master and offering you ample refreshments
-
>After accepting as many traditional gestures of hospitality as you can stand, Moxxie following your lead and never missing a step, you manage to make it to Stolas's court
>The Great Owl is cooler than you remember him being
>No teasing or anything
>As formal as can be
>He says all that custom demands of him, offers all that politeness would have him offer
>He and his wife accept the worthless bits and baubles that Charlie bid you give them with grace and humility
>They recieve the orders she's sent eagerly
>Slight modifications to their astronomic activities, keeping a closer eye on Heaven to ensure that the Exterminator Legions remained grounded, hardly a challenge to demons of their skill

>The agreement made clear, you exit the room, OC-1789 holding steady at precisely three steps behind you
>Octavia just happens to be in the hall
>Like everything else, your sister's longtime friend is the same, yet different
>The smug, sardonic smile she once wore is now a carefully calculated mask of politeness
>The casual clothes she deliberately sought out over the 'irksome' trappings of royalty are nowhere to be found, she has on a very prim and proper outfit now
>And she's been burnt
>Badly
>Patches of scale along her arm are blacker and rougher than anthracite coal
>She's missing feathers in several places
>You know why
-
>Charlie had mentioned to you the efforts that had been undertaken to retrieve you from Purgatory before you'd managed to find your own way home
>And how spectacularly they'd failed
>If only there had been some means of communication, you would have warned them against it
>Instead Octavia's portal had collapsed like a house of cards doused in napalm
>Despite knowing that there was nothing you could have done to prevent their well-intentioned efforts, you feel guilt as you look her over
>It was still early in your sister's reign when the attempt was made
>There was no threat of 'liquidation' looming over the avian demon, no promise of severe reprimand if she refused to pry the portal open
>She attempted to retrieve you out of the goodness lurking in her infernal heart, because she wanted you back as much as your sister did
>And she ended up scorched by the fires of failed sorcery for her efforts
-
>"Anon"

>She crooks her elbow out in invitation for you to link arms
>A very old-fashioned gesture
>'Prim' and 'proper' and 'most lady-like'
>The sort of thing she once would only have done in the most sardonic fashion, flashing you and Charlie a knowing smile as she hammed it up, all of you holding back laughter at the stupidity of the whole ceremony
>No such mirth now though
>She barely seems aware of what she's doing as you hook your arm around hers, the rough feeling of her scars muted by the long, thick sleeve of your coat
>It's like any number of formal occasions you'd both had to play a role for in the past, though now you're tense and awkward, rather than bored and eager to get the whole affair over with

>"It's good to see you again"

>You glance sideways at her
>Is it really?
>So much of...all this...
>Well, you can't help but feel it's your fault
>If only you hadn't left-

>"You'd have been swept up in the horror, the same as we all did"

>Octavia cuts you off before you can properly begin to flagellate yourself for your failings
>She gives you a look

>"I don't doubt that you have the same capacity for terror as the rest of us"
>"What's important is that you haven't had time slip down that gentle slope the way we did"
>"You're as you were, before the new regime took hold"
>"You're an anchor to the old Hell"
>"To the lesser of two evils"
>"Maybe you can do something with that"

>You catch just a glimpse of that smug 'I-know-something-you-don't' smile that was once her signature look just in time to realize that you've already made it back to the courtyard
>Time to go home
>You glance around as Octavia releases you and retreats back to her chambers
>Ah, there's Moxxie, at your side, just out of your usual line of sight, as always
-
>You draw the armored imp's attention and gesture off toward where your transport is waiting
>He nods, and you both start your walk across the courtyard, through the throngs of native demons taking shelter there

>"Moxxie?!"

>A feminine voice with a slight accent rings out
>You and your bodyguard both turn to see a slender-horned female imp pushing her way out from the crowd of other demons clogging the patio
>She's wearing the usual attire of a demon prince's servant, rather than anything more typically impish, but she doesn't have the air of deference that the actual servants do
>You can still see a fire in her

>She moves toward the pair of you, but is abruptly stopped
>A hellhound, white-furred and with eyes as red as fresh-drawn blood, emerges from behind her and places a paw on the impette's shoulder
>The two lesser demons lock eyes for a moment, and the hellhound shakes her head gravely
>The impette's stance slackens and she casts her eyes downward

>You look toward Moxxie
>He's inscrutable
>Despite lacking the proper appendages to communicate, you did manage to get a decent handle on imp body language. Enough to at least tell what sort of mood one of them was in
>You're getting nothing from your bodyguard though
>His head is level, his tail limp
>As always

>The impette one the far side of the courtyard, on the other hand, is quite easy to read
>Her horns are angled in the most welcoming and nonthreatening way possible
>Her tail curls in a desperate and pleading fashion
>She wrings her hands almost like a former human would
>She shifts her gaze to meet yours
>Fearful, hopeful, angry, longing, sorrowful

>You nudge your bodyguard

>Moxxie...
>Moxxie?
>Dammit
>OVERWATCH COMMANDER 1789!

>Moxxie perks up immediately as you belt out his formal designation and looks to you for further instruction

>You gesture at the impette and the hellhound

>Why don't you go visit with them for a moment?
>They seem eager to talk to you
-
>OC-1789 gawks at you in open confusion for a moment, but does as he's told once you begin to tap your foot with impatience
>He leaves you standing by yourself next to the fountain and approaches the wide-eyed pair of native demons
>They bolt forward to meet him as he draws near
>The impette bundles him up in a double-armed, full-tail-wrap hug and begins babbling to him
>She's tearful and overjoyed, clearly someone who's missed him dearly for some time
>The hellhound seems to be in a similar state, though she has a rather pained expression on her muzzle
>The shallow din of conversations all around you makes it hard to hear what she's saying, but she's enough of a loudmouth that you can tell it mainly consists of apologies

>You can tell Moxxie is speaking back to them, very softly, as they continue to ask questions and chatter at him, but their expressions indicate that his answers are unsatisfactory
>Both the impette and the hellhound look over his shoulder, directly at you, with grave suspicion
>The impette looks back at Moxxie, shoulders tensed
>She whispers too softly for you to overhear, but even at this distance you can read her lips

>"Is he treating you well?"

>Moxxie nods vigorously, though you're entirely unsure if you deserve such praise
>You've never had someone on such a short leash before
>You have no idea if you're holding it properly
-
>"MOXXIE!"

>The shout of another voice precedes the arrival of another imp, in a long coat and knee-high boots
>Older than OC-1789 and the impette, judging by his height and the size of his horns
>He comes barrelling through the crowd and throws his arms around all three of the other demons
>He's livelier and a bit more casual than the impette, cracking jokes and issuing teasing barbs, his tail coiled up playfully
>But he makes time to glare daggers at you in between attempts to coax a reaction of some sort from your bodyguard
>And he finds himself with more and more time to do so, as Moxxie fails to react strongly to anything he says

>After a bit more conversation, Moxxie suddenly jabs his thumb toward you, then gestures at his timepiece
>The older imp looks disappointed, as do the impette and the hellhound
>They embrace him once again
>He returns the gesture, though he's slow to do so
>Once they part, he rotates on his hoof with perfect form and marches back to your side, the trio watching him sullenly

>"We should go, Sir, we're at risk of falling behind schedule"
-
>You blink several times to rouse yourself from the stupor that comes from staring out the window of the limousine
>The endless march of steel and stone will numb the mind if you let it
>You reach over and take a sip from your water bottle
>Then you look over at Moxxie
>He's looking, well, not upset, but from his posture and the curl of his tail you can tell he's much deeper in thought than he usually is
>You call out to him, softly

>How is he?
>Did he enjoy seeing his friends?

>The imp stares at the floor of the vehicle
>He draws his mouth into a thin line, then stares out the window for a while
>Finally, he speaks

>"Their names are Loona...Blitz...and...Millie..."

>Overwatch Commander 1789 looks back toward you from the window
>His face is placid and steady
>His eyes however, are wide, pained, and confused

>"They were all so happy to see me..."

>His lip trembles as he continues to speak

>"I can't remember any of them."
--
Time for me to pinch in.

>unlike Chaos, eternal, every system of Order can exists on a limited time, as their rigidity prevents any longevity
>Chaos is flexible, it can take on any forms (even that of any Orders) for as long as it likes
>Order, on the other hand, can only be one form at once - and that one form has to encompass everything that previously fell under Chaos - or make them perish

>the equilibrium of Charlie's regime is no closer to perfection than any humanity's attempts at utopia from 20th century, with one key exception:
>those, regardless of how rigid the system was, were all filled with life - those that weren't fell apart, quickly
>no matter how much control a despot had, they knew they couldn't control EVERYthing - and they often didn't
>some were satisfied with just providing for their citizens, and only only putting their foot down, if they ventured somewhere that could threaten the system, or upset it's order too quickly and radically
>restrictive, but not outlandishly so - although, others would disagree
>those that WERE restrictive to a totalitarian level, though, usually had some outer circumstance that they could justify it with
>even in that one writer's hypothetical "worst case scenario" world, the system, for the vast majority of the undereducated masses was kept afloat by an ACTUAL constant war
>"Oceania has ALWAYS been at war with Eurasia"
>"No, Oceania has ALWAYS been at war with Eastasia"

>to turn rough ore into metal, you need heat - even moreso if you're turning that metal into something useful
>you have to strike the iron while it's hot, malleable, and has some flexibility
>once it cooled off, you're stuck with the shape you've hammered it into
>but it doesn't end there - you have to keep the tool warm from usage
>make it too cold, and, though it's hardness, it's rigidity will remain, it'll loose is toughness, it's tensile strength - it'll shatter under duress, even the against something it was made to withstand
-
>You've seen this quite a few times, when a smith of yore, filled with hubris, attempted to free Satan from his icy trap - only for his tools to shatter like glass after they got a few hits into the stony ice
>no flame can survive the coldness of that chamber, and without their labor keeping them warm, they soon all froze to death themselves, whilst Uncle Sataniel just growled at their incompetence, and kept chewing on the three hapless saps in his mouths
>you've made yourself busy in the past couple of days - not out of necessity, for the system operates well without you, but rather as penance
>not for yourself, again, but rather, your sister

>following your visit to Prince Stolas' castle, you two had a bit of falling out
>...actually, it wasn't just a bit
>you pretty much exploded
>seeing the contrast between Stolas's realm, and the Hell she created was enough to re-ignite a fire of your own
>a trial of powder, leading to the keg, which the flame reached the moment you stepped into the office
>there was no blood spilled, of course - you two haven't fought since you were as young as 50

>you had an edge on her, that you've just realized was a double one - taking the blame for her behavior for your departure on that sisyphean task to fix Purgatory
>she denied it fervently, since both of you sought the same: ending the yearly purges
>well, she achieved that, and in the process, made Heaven fully turn away from Hell, as "God forsaken" was the best way you could describe the Pits now

>in the end, it wasn't for naught - the Queen had agreed to undo some of the "re-education" she had implemented, before you pushed further: it wasn't enough
>imps suffered unfairly, as her regime was even more taxing on their chaotic nature than the influence of human Sinners was
>forcing them into a strict regiment, suppressing their natural skills for arbitrary ones, and the making them "FORGET" about their loved ones, so that the change wouldn't hurt as much
-
>noisily and sulkily, the Queen agreed, and issued an order to replace imps in the Oppressor units with more suitable wrath demons
>a few would remain, as personal servants to members of the government, but not for long
>they are to be kept separate from the Sinners, as much as possible
>undoing their re-education would be costly and time consuming, not to mention leave Hell vulnerable, since it'll loose a good chunk of it's army

>well, that's how she reasoned

>you both knew that the strength of the impish horde came from being able to utilize their anarchic, chaotic nature in perfect sync, making any war waged against the underworld nearly impossible to win
>regimenting them like that just made them all the weaker

>though the argument ended favorably, you still kept your distance
>not out of any calculated step; you were just too angry to face her again
>you'd be lying if you said that you've accepted the loss of the girl you once knew, who wanted to make Sinners reach the Heavens by becoming better - you still desperately searched for her
>but whatever the FUCK was wearing her skin, and keeping the girl hidden has crossed several lines, and you were NOT going to let it cross anymore

>a meeting with a delegate from Heaven will be coming up soon
>it may be your chance to begin undoing all this mess

>though you marched forwards with big steps, you kept your pace slow, allowing Moxxie to catch up
>he stopped using his official title, and, more importantly, stopped using the reproduction Angelic polearm he's been given
>sure the assault rifle he's been given in it's place (not to mention your change of uniform to something more to your liking) had only made the pair of you resemble a military despot from a more tropical climate, it was still a step forward
>day by day, the imp seemed to recall more and more from his previous life
>it started with his own likes and dislikes, but had now moved onto his hobbies, favorite places, and the like
-
>while you held out on the matter for a while, every time you two had to leave, you could see him perk up every time your destination came to be in the proximity of Imp City, and the palace of Prince Stolas
>he need only ask, and you'd gladly make a de-tour there - due to your eagerness to spend time working away from your sister, your schedule had slackened quite a bit
>you've expected it to be filled up with new tasks in an instant, but Charlie remained silent about the matter


>a thought hit you, out of the blue, as you suddenly recalled your earlier philosophizing:
>the tool that's been left too cold will loose it's toughness, and shatter from duress, even if doing tasks it was intended to do
>Queen Charlotte's regime was born out of a time of heightened tension, when the possibility of war, or a civil war, were at an all-time high
>she forged her system from that, striking the iron when it was hot...
>...and then, she put it in a freezer, hardening it instantly

>no war to test it on
>no civil conflict to keep it warm
>just endless regimentation
>"Peace is War", instead of "War is Peace"

>if she were to ACTUALLY use this tool, it'll shatter in an instant, leaving her vulnerable!
>it'll leave EVERYONE vulnerable!

>by the accounts of the others, cracks were forming in the Queen's facade - her own precision had slackened, and though she hadn't gotten any merciful, she had been besieged by guilt, sighing deeply every time she looked outside, at the field of grey blocks that now formed Pentagram

>you once mentioned, half jokingly, that it resembled a graveyard
>it was the first time you've seen guilt in her eyes, since you've returned

>before the meeting with the delegate, you still had to conduct a meeting on your own
>not one you were looking forward to, but one that'll be necessary
>under any other circumstance, contacting... HIM... was basically the nuclear option
>a deadly risk in on itself, and one that terrified you to the very core
-
>you've met Him once... when both of you were very young
>Charlie was afraid of the dark, and you... Afraid of what lied WITHIN the dark
>as much as your mother adored you two constantly worming your ways between them on the bed almost every night, both your parents knew this will not do - darkness was an elemental part of your lives
>and thus, one day, you were taken to the Mouth of Madness
>the Pit of the Pits

>you're just as terrified as you were back then
>but this time, Charlie wasn't with you
>you couldn't hide behind the legs of your father, clutching at the fabric of his trousers, and burying your face into his hip
>you recalled him laying a comforting hand on your head, allowing you to look up, and stare down, into the Abyss

>you've never felt their loss as painfully as you did now, and your sorrow overpowered your fear
>seemingly useful, but a dangerous combination around these parts

>you knew who stared back from the Abyss
>beside you, in spite of himself, Moxxie was trembling, much like you were, when you were a kid
>before long, he dropped his weapon - a crime only punishable by death on any other occasion, but you let it slide -, and curled against your leg, shaking
>you laid a comforting hand atop his head, between his horns (briefly wondering if yours were out back then), allowing his quaking to calm, as he stared past your leg at the daunting sight

>the Darkness was... Eternal
>deeper than the darkest night, more distant than the lights of Heaven, and emptier than the vastness of space
>but not for long

>a pair of eyes, bleached blind, white, yet emitting no light, turned towards you
>Abaddon, lying eternally awake, had now turned towards you
-
>P͘ ̛r̷ ̡i ̢n ͠c̴ e

"I wish to speak with you, Apollyon."

>W ͢h y

>you plucked up courage

"You've probably noticed the large number of souls who have joined you down there, as of recent."

>silence

"I came to you about them."

>...

>Ś ̕o̷ ̕ M ̶a̡ n̨ y̸
>F̀ a l̕ l̶ ̀e̸ ̧n
>D o̧ ́w n͟ ̨ ̵ H̡ e̸ ͞r̀ e
>W ̀i̴ ̶t ̴h ̀ ͘ ̧Ḿ ̛e͡

>you nodded

"Did it make you happy?"

>Moxxie stared at you, suddenly, like you've just pulled the pin from a grenade, and then neglected to throw it
>anyone would've been able to recognize the insult in the question, but you had no sarcasm in your tone
>you wanted to know

>T h̶ ̶e̷ ͝y̡ L̡ i ̛e͞ ̴ ͟ H̸ e̶ r e͜ ͜ W ͞i ̸t ́h̡ ͜ ͢M̶ ͟e ,͠ ̛ ͝I n̷ ͢ ͟ T̀ ̴h͢ e̵ ̢ ̛D̢ ̨a͠ r͘ ̀k n ͟e̴ ̧s ̢s̢
>Ţ h̕ e y ́ ̧ D̨ e s̛ p͠ ̷a̧ i̷ r , ̶ ͢A̴ w͟ ́a y̷ ͜ ͝ F ͜r o̢ ̴m ̷ H͘ ͘e ̶a v e͝ n ̛' ̛s͟ ̴ L ͟į ̵g h ̢t
>A ̧w͞ à y͞ ͟ F ͟r o m̨ ̴ ͢G̴̢̢͢ ̵̢͘Ò̶̀͡͠ ̀͠D̶̴̛͜͜
>L i k ͘e ̴ I ͠ D͞ ̵o

>silence

>B ú t ̧ ̡ ́T h e y ̶C a͠ ̀n ̵n̷ o ͜t̷ ̧ S̕ ̷h ̨a̵ r e̴ ̢M ̢y W͟ ̴e͢ ͜i ̶g͝ ̀h t

>...

>I ͜ ͟E n v ͠y͝ ̶ A͘ ̛n ͝d̡ ̷ ̸ ͜P i ̴t y ̷T ̡h ͞e͝ m

>you merely nodded

"You can probably tell, even from down there, were all of this is heading."

> I̷ t͟ ̛ ͞S h ͜a ͟l̷ ͞l͟ ̵N͝ o̕ ̧t̡ ͠ F r e͡ ͟e ̕ ͡ ͠M ę

>you nearly sighed in relief, but caught yourself before doing so
>as relieved you were about that fact, you didn't want to insult Abbadon
>He had been hurt enough

"I request that you return one of them."

>Apollyon stared

>M̀ ͡y ̢ ̡ B r ̀ơ ͠t̶ ̵h͝ ͞ȩ r A ͘n d̡ ͟ T ͞h e ̨ T͝ e ̢m͡ p t r̨ e ̡s s ͘ ͞A ͟r ̢e ͟ N͠ ̀o t ̧ W̶ i ́t ͡h ̧ ͘ M ͡e͠

>what

"What?"
-
>T͝ h o̵ s ̧e͟ ͜O f ̀T h ̵e ͟i̢ r ̨ ͜R a ̴n͘ ͠ḱ ͟ ͢W̨ h o ͠H̷ a ̵d ͘ B̸ ̕e ̶e͜ ͘n ͘ S t ͝r u͞ ç ̴k ̸ ̴ ̢D o̕ w n̛ ̀ ͜ H̶ a d ̶ A l͟ ͝l ͢ ̢R̛ ̷e t u̶ r ͘n e̡ d̴ ͟ ͝T o ̨ ̶ ͡Ǵ̵̵͢͢ ̧͡͝͠Ó͟͞ ̷D̢̕

>a mixture of emotions overcame you: shock, relief, pain, sorrow, joy...
>but it didn't matter
>you weren't here for them

"I wish for you to release the Firebrand."

>He didn't know her name
>He didn't know any of their names
>As the very antithesis of God, beyond even your father, Baal, Satan, or Beelzebub, he knew nothing of this world

>other than he wanted to destroy it


>Y̕ ͠o͞ u̸ ̵ W̸ i s ̕h̛ ̶ ͠F́ o r͢ ͠ ̷ T h ̵e ͘ Ŗ ͠e ͢b ͞e̶ l

"The last one to stand up against my sister, and struck down before All."

>T ̛h e̸ ͢ ̀S͘ p̵ ͢i d e͞ r̵ ' s F͡ r͡ ̀i ͘e̕ n ͢d

>so, he DID knew her!

"The cyclops with the bombs."

>T ̛h e̢ ̵ ͝ A n ͟a ̷r̨ ç ͡h̕ ̀i s ͞t ̨ ̧ W̷ i͞ ţ h A ͘ N o̕ ̴b͝ ̶l̴ e̛ '̨ s ͟ ͢ ͟S o͟ u l͠

>well, that was pushing it a bit
>but at least he knew

>W̶ h ̧y ͢ ̸D ̵o̸ ̧ ̵ ̕Y o ̢u W ̢a̢ ̢n̕ t ͞ ̷H͝ e̸ r

"My sister's reign had destroyed what little goodness was left in this place. Now, only sorrow remains."

>you had to choose your words carefully

"I wish to undo that, before it becomes her undoing."

>Abbadon remained silent, digesting your words
>you were worried it wouldn't work - it wasn't an integral part of your plans, but it may become necessary, if push comes to shove
>Queen Charlotte had taken upon herself to shoulder all the weight of her reign, which, as rigid as it was, remained a fragile thing, dangerous to everyone - mostly her
>if anyone was to break it, it had to be you, and on your own terms
>you had to show her that, despite everything, her power wasn't limitless
>believing so had only proven that she was too young for the crown, yet
-
>L ͠i ̛t̀ ̡t̸ ́l͢ e P r̨ i͢ n͢ ̛c͠ ̛e , ͡ I ̡f ̴ ͝Y͜ ͠o ͜u̴ A͝ r ͞é G̴ ̨r ̢i̧ p p͞ e ͟d ͘ ͞B ̸y ̴ D ̵e s ̡p ą ̶i̶ r , ̀ ̀ ̨Y̢ ̧o ͟u ͞ ̵A ͟r͜ ę ̷ ͡ ͡A ̴l w͠ ̡á ̶y ̨s ̕ ̢ ͞W̶ ͟e l͝ c ̨o ̸m e ̡ T͞ o ͟ ̶J͢ ́o i̷ n̵ M̷ ͘e

>suddenly, you felt a certain pull from the Abyss, as if it had yawned, it's breath drawing you in
>but as quick as it came, the pull stopped
>with a minute sense of alarm, you reached down, and now sighed audibly in relief
>Moxxie was still down there, by your side, body still warm and alive, consciously gripping your leg, tail curling around it upon your pat on his head


>I ̛S͟ h ͡a l̕ ̧l ̵R e ͞l͡ ͘e̡ a ͘s͡ e ͟ ̧H ̶e r


>and he did
> a form began to emerge from the darkness, slowly filled with color that came spewing forth
>before long, it materialized into the familiar figure of the cyclops
>she was naked and pale - her tattoos were missing
>as her form slipped before you, you realized that her hair had been bleached white
>you hoped it'll return to it's natural color, but, more pressingly...
>you got hold of her, her head drooping back over your arm, as you gently pulled at her eyelid with the other, slowly lifting it up

>suddenly, she drew a deep, ragged breath, startling both you and Moxxie
>her eye popped open, still filled with color, 'X'-shaped pupil darting around, unfocused, before settling on your face
>blinking, she stared, a frown of confusion spreading on her face

>H̛ ́e̵ ̧r͜ ̨ ̛F͝ ļ ͠a͟ m͟ e ͝ ̴I͡ s̷ ̵ S̵ t ͠r o ̨n͟ g̢
>B u͜ ţ H͢ ̀e̵ ̨r ͜ ̕ ̨B o d̢ ͢y ̵ I s ͘ ̢Y̢ ͜e͠ ̢t͟ ͟ ͝ W ̴e̸ a̛ ͜k
>N ̛ú r̨ t̷ ̛ú r è ̛ ̀H͢ e ̸r ͞ B a c ̢k T́ o H ̴e r̢ ͞ ̡P e a̶ ̴k͘ ,̷ ̡ I f́ ͞ ͟ Y̷ o ̀u̷ ͠W a ͢n͟ t ͡ Y ̛ơ u ͢r ̴S ͠c ̛h̸ e̶ m e ̀ T ̵o ̛ W o͝ ͟r̴ ͜k

"...Wait, how did you...?!"

>but He had already fallen silent
-
>you scoffed, as the eyes turned away from you, but inwardly, you were smiling
>unlike the others who have fallen, Apollyon was seduced down by your mother, something which she had regretted ever since, as the angel wasn't just burned, but destroyed by her deceit, and God's punishment for his broken loyalty

>then again, part of you was certain that even God regretted his hasty actions that day - He had been his most loyal follower, and the despair his guilt ignited had swallowed him hole
>now, he lied, waiting in the Abyss for the sound of the Horns, so that he may undo God's Creation itself

>and yet, though a fallen Angel, He had not turned away from God
>He still had his Grace, which is why His desire to cease all that His Lord created was one out of pity, and not revenge

>this also manifested in small acts of kindness like this - you withstood his white, empty stare back then, and with that, humored him with your daring-do, if only for a little bit
>he still had mercy, somewhere down in his twisted heart


>as you quickly carried Cherri back to the limousine, whilst ushering Moxxie forward (no way you were going to let him fall behind, not now), you thought ahead for the coming meeting
>hopefully, another success will follow this one, as this definitely the weaker victory of the two, and thus the weaker option, when it came to ending this dreary nightmare that Hell had become
>but if not, well...
>you'll have to prepare Cherri for the worst

>however, as the little imp entered before you, and produced a blanket to cover the cyclops with, you find yourself going into autopilot, as you placed her inside, and climbed in yourself
>what Abbadon had said shook you more than you were willing to admit, and gave you something that burned brighter, and more painfully than ever before:

>hope

>hope that your parents were still out there, somewhere

>somewhere in Heaven


>these next few weeks, leading up to the meeting, will be the longest ones of your life