HellWalker: Beyond the Line part 1

from /hhg/ - Hazbin Hotel General Thread #180
part 2: https://pastebin.com/sXhY540h
part 3: https://pastebin.com/pk1MzBSy
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Alright then.

>it took them a moment to recognize who he was when he walked through the big doors
>the breath got caught in their throats, ice tingling down their spines
>Zap did some phreaking, listening in on Al's conversation, and gave them a vague warning - after meeting with Jacket, the Doom Slayer, and the fucking Angel of Death himself, they figured there's little the Radio Demon could throw at them with a phone call
>in short, they've expected eldritch horrors, the kind Hell offered on every street corner
>not this...

>Husk immediately jerked up, eyeing the newcomer, as he approached him, his eyes burning holes into the cat's own gaze
>his tail swished lazily from side to side, fur standing on end - he recognized a fellow soldier, but it was clear that the walking Hellstorm walking up to the front desk was no brother-in-arm
>the renegade carried the stench of death, a modern flavor of it - smelling of garlic and chemicals, with the ozone-like smell that came from the swirling sand's static charge
>it beat the smell of napalm, but that was beside the point
>"Checking in?" he asked, as the figure stopped in front of him
"Yes."
>the anons present shivered - he sounded coarse and noisy
>it was similar to Zap, in a way - like someone speaking into a fan -, but his was more like someone using sand instead of air to vocalize
>it definitely put Husk on edge, but he quickly shook it of, picking off a key from its hook, and offering it to the man
>"First floor, South-East wing." he said, before glancing behind him
>the uniformed cloud of death tensed up, worn boots creaking
>there was a cough behind him, and the tension - fast as it came - was gone
>turning around he saw man with no face - just a question mark -, wearing a black suit and red tie
>immediately, he spotted the pill bottles in his pockets
"May I?"
>the green man asked, extending a hand with the palm up
>"Room 33!" Husk snapped
>the entire room froze

Well?
-
>the tension in the air was palpable
>slowly, the other anons turned towards the cat, with an expression of bewildered horror, as if he had just told them he eats the toes of infants
>his eyes darted between them, trying to figure out what he said wrong

"...Fitting."

>the pregnant silence was replaced by one of relief, as the Captain dropped the key into Chan's still open palm, the frozen anon nearly dropping it, just barely stepping out of his stupor in time
>in the process, he looked down, noticing the large Duffel bag
>no word was needed - another man with a question mark for a face (this one looking more like the rough outline sketch of a person) approached them, and, staring into the phosphorous fires, motioned towards the bag
>Walker gave only a faint nod, and took a step aside, as the tall figure walked around his pack, and stood beside him
>he saw his big arm descend, hand opening up to grab hold of the sling
>...only for it to grab the entire bag itself, lifting it up
>it was now the size of handbag - the blanche figure appeared eager to show him
"I'll scale it back to its proper size when we get to your room."
>he promised
>nonplussed, the Captain nodded again, and, with the green man motioning towards the stairs, he set off, factotum and janitor-cum-bellhop in tow

>down the hallway, the Princess of Hell was just about to set off and greet their newest guest, happy that their "patron", Alastor, had found a lost soul willing to give redemption a go...
>only to have her own girlfriend, tug her back pulling her into a vice-gripped embrace
>trying to wriggle free, she was met only with increased force from the Salvadorean - she forgot how strong Vaggie could be
>and, that she only did so for a reason
>while the shocked, almost hurt she made when she slapped her hand across her mouth almost made her give in and apologize, Vaggie remained firm, hand sealing Charlie's mouth shut
>she simply shook her head, and held the blonde close

Cont.
-
>from the other side of the hall, Angel watched with interest
>he hadn't been told much about the new guy - apart from the fact that he's trouble, the type even the anons don't like to mess with
>he didn't think much of it, however, seeing their reactions now, well...
>his mob senses were tingling

>the walk upstairs was quiet, with only the sound of footsteps accompanying the three men
>Chan kept quiet, however, the voices of the many posters inside his mind were slowly trickling back in, and he felt another headache coming on - it took every ounce of will not to instinctively reach into his pocket for the Tylenol, not wanting to risk sudden movement
>Stretch, too, was uncharacteristically quiet - usually, he'd be chatting with the new guest by now, but he appeared to be deep in thought
>Walker kept quiet - no indication if he was thinking, taking in the scenery, thinking of an escape route, or contemplating a double murder
>just... the stoic glare of the phosphorous fires amid the ever-shifting sand

"So..."

>the soldier turned his head slightly, showing that he's listening

"Captain or Colonel, then?"

>fucking...
>while Chan contemplated how he'll insert Stretch's feet into his mouth, Walker halted
>as did the taller anon
>he turned towards him, fires fixated on the blanche face with the old-fashioned, reverse-"S"-shaped question mark on it
>looking at it now, his face appeared completely flat, as it it had suddenly lost all contours
>much like his earlier trick with the Duffel bag, it was interesting to watch, in a sort-of mind-bending way
>a welcome break from the more realistic hallucinations
>meanwhile, Stretch wondered what being sandblasted felt like, considering he might just experience it, first-hand
>but instead, he pointed at the award ribbons on Walker's coat

"Just wondering, because..."

>the glow of the fires intensified
>however, the finger moved up, to the side

"There's no shoulder insignia..."

Cont.