Niffty and husk Origin

from /hhg/ - Hazbin Hotel #308
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hey, did anyone repost that idea of nifty is a fan of serial killer?
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I was the one who originally proposed that and I was this close to copying it over from whatever thread it was in but for some reason I didn't.
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oh... well. can you find it and copying it over here?... as well the husk idea?.
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So the idea started with this old piece of concept art being likened to Niffty

>if that pic is the remixed of Niffty, does that mean when Niffty get really mad she pull out a chainsaw?
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>I don't know that the similarities in design necessarily mean the characters are derived from each other, I think maybe Medrano just has certain things she likes in design and tends to go back to (*cough* bowties and mismatched eyes *cough*)

>But also:

>>Niffty wasn't just a garden variety murderer in life, she was a full blown exploitation movie-grade slasher
>>Her body count was almost as high as Alastor's, her methods at least as brutal, if not more so
>>That's why she likes him so much, and seems delighted to see him while everyone else is rightly freaked out, he's a kindred spirit to her

>Maybe she even had a direct fascination/fixation on him when she was alive. She liked to play armchair detective, poring over criminal news stories and other true crime works during the evening in the tiny room her host family had allotted her. But then, her fascination with serial killers started to get out of hand...

Cont.
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Well we've posited that the reason Alastor can teleport Niffty and Husk to him whenever he feels like it is because he's made deals with both of them and pretty much owns their souls. Husk seems to have a good head on his shoulders, we've talked about him having gone your usual "deal with the devil" route: Alastor found him in a moment of need or vulnerability, offered to fix it up real nice in exchange for Husk's soul, Husk agreed cuz what is foresite. Niffty on the other hand is clearly insane.

In this scenario, with her already being aware of/obsessed with Alastor before she even died, I think she'd actually have been the one to seek him out. Something like

>Niffty manifests in Hell
>Once the initial shock wears off it occurs to her:
>There is an afterlife especially for evil people
>And she's in it
>And "The Bayou Butcher", the person she's been fascinated with for so long, must be here too. He'd never have gotten into Heaven, not with all the horrible things he did
>She's just got to meet him!
>She has so many questions. How many victims did he really have vs how many were merely ascribed to him by the police? Did he actually eat the marrow of his victims, or was it the vultures doing that like Detective Jones said in his book? Were those two killings in Rhode Island and that one in Havana really him on some sort of murder vacation or were they just done by copycats?
>What kind of girls does he like?
>Does he like short girls? Redheads?
>Gosh, she hopes so.

And after being briefly frustrated by well-meaning sinners trying to warn her to stay AWAY from The Radio Demon, she finally finds out where he is and easily manages to get an audience (Al's a showman, he'd be more than happy to meet a fan, it's just that most people seem to want to stay far away from him). Immediately signs her soul away just because she's utterly star struck, like some kind of twisted version of a 60s-era teenager getting invited backstage to meet The Beatles.
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>as well the husk idea?.

the one about his past of him meeting AI, rosie, and mimzy?.
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I distinctly remember us talking about the possibility that Husk was career military, and was a very old man (officer) by the time he served in Vietnam, which would have given his young life a bit of overlap with Alastor's, but for the life of me I can't find any of it.
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>I distinctly remember us talking about the possibility that Husk was career military, and was a very old man (officer) by the time he served in Vietnam, which would have given his young life a bit of overlap with Alastor's, but for the life of me I can't find any of it.

I hope someone can find it because I really like that idea.
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Well the basis of it was that

>Husk went to Hell when he died
>He served in the Vietnam War
>He drinks heavily because he's troubled

All point toward a very obvious, straightforward scenario of him having done something terrible in the war and being plagued with guilt over it into the afterlife. Which might be what they end up going with, but personally I kind of find that boring and predictable.

The alternate idea that he didn't do anything in the military to warrant ending up in Hell sort of tied in with the idea of him having been friends with Alastor when he was alive. His guilt isn't related to anything he did in the service, he was maybe a desk jockey, a supply chain guy, or even a medic. Never even held a rifle. He ended up in Hell because he was complicit in Alastor's murders. Maybe something like

>Husk and Alastor were both born down south around the same time
>Both were slightly uppercrust
>Alastor was a well-educated (hence the mid-atlantic accent) socialite who started down a career path in radio
>Husk learned from some of the famous barmen of the day and got himself a job working the plank at one of the nice clubs Alastor and his lot frequented
>They developed a friendly enough rapport, as bartenders often do with their regulars

>Alastor tends to linger a little later into the evenings than his friends do
>After a while he starts saying things no one with a lick of sense would say if they weren't drowning in rye
>Laughing a little too hard over the incompetence of the police and their inability to put a halt to the killing spree that has everyone in such a tizzy
>Implying that he might have an insider's angle on the case
>Husk keeps his mouth shut
>He's a barkeep. He's supposed to keep anything told to him across that long narrow piece of varnished wood under wraps
>Besides, that skinny, smiling goofball couldn't possibly be a killer
>He's just telling tall tales to make himself seem mysterious and interesting, like every barfly does
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>One night, Alastor stumbles in well past closing time
>He keeps it brief: he needs a favor
>This bag he has with him needs to disappear
>Husk agrees without thinking
>His friend seems to be in a real mess, he'll help out, no questions asked
>That's what friends do

>He makes sure the bag ends up somewhere no one will ever find it on his walk home
>He doesn't look inside
>He tries not to think about the metallic smell coming from it, the way it feels in his hands, or the sound it makes as he tosses it over the railing
>He tries not to think about it at all after that night, but after the initial panic fades, macabre ideas about what he was getting rid of keep creeping in

>He does his best to rationalize
>Al was a hunter. He probably bagged something on someone else's land and didn't want to get in trouble
>Maybe he hit someone's pet and the scrawny little dandy wasn't up to the task of dealing with the repercussions
>One day, Alastor doesn't come in
>He doesn't come in the next day either
>After a few weeks, Husk picks up the morning paper and drops his coffee all over the table as he reads the headline
>The slasher has been identified
>Posthumously
>One of Alastor's publicity photos graces the front page, matched with a photo of him after the police dogs got through with him in the interior spread
>He's smiling in both
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>Husk can't avoid it anymore
>His regular customer, his friend, was a killer
>He'd known for a long time and refused to believe
>Worse, he'd helped him
>His spree might have ended that night if he hadn't agreed to toss that evidence like the chump he was

>The bartender begins nipping from the well more and more often, trying to drown out thoughts of how many deaths could be laid at his feet because of his own inaction
>Eventually, it costs him his job
>Miserable and directionless, he drifts for a while before the paranoia begins to set in
>He's guilty
>He's party to many murders
>Even if no one has figured it out yet, they'll have to sooner or later
>He needs to get away. Far, far away

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>He enlists at the first opportunity, and embarks for a bootcamp farther from home than he's ever been
>It's an adjustment for him at first, but after a while he finds military life suits him
>The structure and near-constant occupation kept thoughts of his past safely out of mind
>They'd determined he wasn't suitable for a combat role, and that was fine with him
>He can take satisfaction in his work knowing that it he's keeping his fellow soldiers alive
>By the time the war in Indochina spills into Uncle Sam's lap he's a committed military man

>That commitment is shaken as the war turns into an intractable quagmire
>He begins to wonder what the point of all this was as he sees more and more young men dying or driven to despair in a war that seems to be going nowhere
>He retires to the bottom of a whiskey bottle when its all over
>That's what finally kills him
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>He's not surprised when he wakes up from the blackout that ended him to see a sign welcoming him to Hell
>Terrified, but not surprised
>Nothing he could have done with his life would have been able to make up for all the harm he allowed Alastor to do
>At least they sell liquor down here

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>Husk settles into a steady routine of gambling, spending his winnings on drink, then gambling again once he's loaded enough to feel lucky again
>What else was there to do?
>Sitting around waiting for the next extermination sober was downright agonizing
>He knew it wouldn't be long before one of those spears found its way into him
>He drank his money faster than he could save up for somewhere safe to stay, and he wasn't well connected enough to get any sort of protection from anyone else
>Or so he thought

>One night he hears a brief, panicked series of whispers while staring up at the ceiling through the bottom of his glass
>When he sets it back down, he's alone
>Except for this smirking creep in the red suit
>The smile seems familiar enough, but its not until he starts speaking that Husk realizes who it is who's just sat down next to him

>Alastor

>His old friend, the serial murderer
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>Husk doesn't know how to feel about this turn of events
>Luckily, the rest of the patrons of the bar are able to lead by example
>They're quaking in their boots, on the far side of the room, except for the bartender, who seems to be trying to sink himself into the rack of glasses behind him

>Alastor doesn't seem to mind
>Or notice
>He's too fixated on Husk
>He's just delighted to see his good friend again after all this time. He'd started wondering if his favorite barkeep had ended up in Heaven after all.
>Speaking of barkeeps...

>The trembling demon on the other side of the bartop leaps upright as Alastor addresses him
>He orders a round for two
>Husk's jaw nearly drops right off his face when the bartender assures them that this one is on the house
>Hell's an anarcho-capitalist cesspool
>You can't get a kick in the ribs for free down here, and Al was just given TWO free drinks without so much as trying to sweet talk the man holding the bottle
>Seems his old pal has some real clout among demonkind

>Husk isn't sure how to feel about that either
>He never actually crossed Al, but other than the "favor" he did him, they weren't any closer than a drink-slinger and an above average tipper could be either
>Why has he tracked him down?