Charlie couldn't help her uncomfortable pacing back and forth as she practiced various deep breathing exercises. She had to have rehearsed these exercises hundreds of times prior, she had planned on teaching it to her patients, wanting to be prepared for the likely outcome of their rising stress. But as experienced as she was with the technique, it was hardly helping to prevent the grisly images and premonitions of what was to come from racing through her mind. Along with them were the details of the frantic report detailing the recent incident of a sleazy bar downtown. Such a place was sure to attract the worst kinds of vagrants, delinquents, and sadists, but the recent news had described sounds of gunfire and violence that was extreme, even for a place like this. Naturally, as the psychiatrist and manager of the newly opened Hazbin Hotel, Charlie took it upon herself to investigate. Any threat to the populace had to be addressed, and this was the perfect opportunity to demonstrate that she could talk down even the worst of Hell's offenders. She had come alone, of course, as anyone would have told her not to go, if not outright demanding that she remained where it was safe.  But now that she was here, walking back and forth on a street that was eerily empty, her own pep talks weren't doing her much good. Especially since her close friend Vaggie had only aided in painting vivid examples of death, dismemberment, and worse, if Charlie decided to pursue a lead like this. But in the end, if she couldn't talk down the kind of people that were responsible for this reason fight, what was she doing in the first place? Before she could scare herself even more, she quickly entered the bar from the  back, trying her best to remain quiet. Now, Charlie wasn't faint of heart, and a lot less so than her nature implied. Living in Hell, one is bound to see their share of viscera and cruelty. But she had difficulty even opening the back door without it sloshing through...something as it opened, and the smell was overpowering. Charlie took care with each step, not just to make sure she was quiet, but also to take care not to step in...anyone. And there were bodies everywhere she looked, each one of known gang members or at least someone who was capable of putting up a struggle, deadly weapons and bulging muscles alike now on the floor, now rendered useless. Charlie had just remembered to breathe as she realized this wasn't a brawl, this wasn't even murder. It felt like she had just wandered into a butcher's kitchen, with the bled out corpses of strong demons in place of freshly-slaughtered animals. Charlie couldn't remember a time, all her life, where she felt so small as she aimlessly wandered through the gore, placing one shaking foot after another. Sometimes a careless step would splash the blood beneath her, the sound of it the only thing snapping her mind back to reality and reminding her to be more cautious. Yet her mind still reeled as she tried to empathize with the pain these poor souls felt before they died. This gave her the determination to see to it that it doesn't happen again. She was going to make Hell a safer place, even if it meant creeping through the meat grinder this bar had become. She was in the kitchen, and soon peeked her head through the door leading into the dining area. From what she could tell, several windows had been smashed open, and the whole place was riddled with signs of a struggle, between crushed furniture and bullet-riddled walls. Once again, there was something about this scene that separated it from the usual violence Charlie had eventually grown accustomed to. She couldn't keep her arms from trembling as she forced open the kitchen door. She wasn't weak, relatively speaking, but she obviously wasn't close to the level of savagery that was put so clearly on display here. But from the sound of it, the place was empty. With any luck, the people responsible for the massacre had already left. Or, would that be unlucky, since she was trying to find them? She couldn't hear anything aside from her own labored breathing as she tried to keep quiet, so she gave up on her agonizingly slow movement and began to walk normally. It'd be a shame if this turned out to be for nothing, but she wanted to leave as soon as possible, between the overpowering smell and shattered corpses. Now as she stood, she could even make out some of them had been severed in pieces. Perhaps she was just better off turning her nose for now and letting someone else look into this. She threw open the bar's doors, and they creaked loudly, very loudly. Louder than Charlie would have liked, because it seemed to have attracted some attention. She heard a noise behind her, and she whipped around, startled. Something was moving at the counter, rising to its feet. She assumed it was just a corpse judging by how it was hunched over. Apparently, it had been perusing the various liquor that was in stock, as it held a bottle in its hand. It moved fast, despite its bulk, and it stood a head over Charlie. Started by this lumbering form, Charlie panicked as she spun around and tripped, falling backwards, almost screaming as she panicked. Her horns reflexively sprung from her head as she panted, scooting herself backwards, putting her arms over her head, her body a quavering wreck. The figure, who shattered the bottle on the counter, leaving nothing but a jagged edge, stopped as she cowered, looking over her. She couldn't see a face, and it said nothing, leaving her nothing to work with. It paused, but she still felt she was in impending danger, as fearful thoughts filled her mind. She told herself she had to do something, but was drawing a blank on any possible solutions.
"Don't...try anything...", she sputtered pathetically, all she could manage in her current state. But as she spoke, the figure reacted further, relaxing its tense shoulders, but only slightly, and it took a step back. Charlie gripped her chest as she breathed. Did they know who she was? If a diplomatic approach was working, Charlie knew how to do that. She stood up on trembling knees, letting her horns relax as she struggled to regain her composure.
"There's...nothing to be anxious about." She continued, holding her hands out to show she meant no harm. As she stood back on two feet, she was able to get a better look at the stranger, and...they were perhaps one of the most intimidating forms she had ever looked upon, and that was saying a lot. Holstered around his body were weapons that were bigger than Charlie was, and she paused for a moment to wonder why he even had them, as his arms looked like they could crush someone's bones with a hug, hands that could pop off someone's head like the tab off a soda can. Charlie still couldn't see his face, it was hidden by the green visor of a helmet that was tougher than she was. Whatever skin that was left unarmored may as well be armor itself, muscles that were toned from a life time of struggle. This man could kill Charlie with a flick of his wrist, quite literally. But still, he said nothing, watching her, and she was frightened enough to stutter out more words, they seemed to be all that was placating this slab of a man.
"All of this...it happens, right? Self defense?" She said, the joke being too awkward to be suave. The man's posture relaxed, from what was once a stance ready to kill someone to a man who looked like he was comfortable in his own home. Perhaps it really was something that happened a lot to him.
"These guys...they were, uh...a bad lot." She continued. The man dropped the beer bottle to the ground, and it splintered loudly on the floor.
"So...so there's no need to feel bad about what happened...right?" She figured she may as well get some practice in if she was about to die. The man casually slung a massive gun over his shoulder, seeming to eye it more than he was her. He may have slowed his reaction, but Charlie didn't like this lack of communication. Maybe she could prompt a reaction.
"Okay...I'm glad we agree! We agree, right?" She ventured, now moving her hands to gesture a response from him. But still, he said nothing. She would have been frightened by this were it not for his relaxed posture.
"Right! Good, we...we agree on something." She paused, thinking of what else to say. Then she remembered why she was here in the first place.
"But listen...I don't think this is something that can...keep happening. Self defense or not, you seem to be rather good at this." She made a show of looking around.
"So, I think...if you want, of course...that you should...come speak to me, sometime! About it! The killing, I mean!" She felt herself sweating bullets as she spoke. Not only was she trying to communicate with this violent stranger, but she was also opening up, in a way. This would be one of the first clients of Hazbin Hotel. She handed him her card, something he peered closely at, treating it with a surprising amount of care.
"So...I think...if you have any problems with, uh, anger, or...hurting people, we should...schedule, something." For some reason, something she couldn't even explain to herself, she was beginning to feel embarrassed more than frightened. The man took the card in his hand, and the sight of him not simply tossing it made Charlie feel inexplicably happy, as well.
"Good! Good! Yes, okay...I'll just...see you, then!" She chirped. The man nodded in response. Charlie turned and left, starting down the street, and she wasn't sure if she was walking quickly out of anxiety, or joy.