A Falling Exterminator part 1

from /hhg/ - Hazbin Hotel General Thread #219
part 2: https://pastebin.com/nJsXDxzD
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So I had an idea earlier that's kind of just been bouncing around in my head ever since. An alternate take on the Exterminators, based in part on the premise of that game Haze (anyone else even remember it that crap?) and in part on Saya no Uta (some of you degenerates must surely remember that one).

What if the Exterminators perceive Hell and demons in a fundamentally different way than anyone else? Could even be related to their masks, like they have some kind of audio-visual filter in them that makes Hell/demons look overwhelmingly repugnant, to encourage them to use maximum violence in the annual cleanse. Hatred and violence are just fundamentally antithetical to what an angel is at its core, so the only way to keep the Exterminator corps running properly is to essentially trick them by making their targets SEEM like utter monsters, because if they, like Charlie, saw that little bit of good still hiding in them, they wouldn't have the heart to harm them.
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hm, i like it
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>Reverse pyrovision
Nice
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So now my question is, what if one of them lost its filter?

>"Are you okay?"
>Spear-bearer #382 of Legion MMXVIII was immediately confused
>That wasn't the sort of question it was used to being asked
>Those above it in The Hierarchy would regularly ask if it had sufficient weaponry, how many souls it had erased, if it had the strength to keep fighting, and so on
>It knew the proper answers to those questions, the ones that would cause it the least amount of trouble
>It did not know if it was "okay"
>It wasn't the sort of thing one was asked after they had donned the war mask

>It did not feel "okay"
>It wasn't sure if it should admit that
>But its head ached
>Its arms felt leaden
>Its wings were in agony
>None of that was unusual for the closing hours of the annual cleanse, it was a taxing event
>This time however, it felt it all particularly clearly
>What had happened to it?
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ooh, interesting. cont?
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I've got more ideas but I'm not 100% sure where I'm actually going with this yet

>"Charlie, get the fuck away from it!"
>"It's unarmed. It can't hurt us."
>A second voice, also feminine, joined the first
>"I don't know about that. I can think of plenty of ways to put someone down that don't need nothin' but two hands and a can-do attitude."
>And a third, this one masculine
>"It's an EXTERMINATOR for fuck's sake!"
>"LOOK at it for crying out loud. It can't even move."
>Both statements were true

>It forced itself to open its eyes, but saw only a watery blur
>It realized it had been weeping
>That wasn't terribly unusual either
>It had seen and partaken in so much violence that tears often flowed freely as of late
>Something was wrong this time
>It could now feel a faint breeze drying them as they rolled down its face
>The realization hit like a lightning bolt

>Its mask

>Its mask was gone

>It could remember now

>It had been separated from the rest of its unit in the bloody frenzy of the cleanse
>It had gotten sloppy as exhaustion began to claim it
>A demon, a big one, had gotten the drop on it
>They had been wielding a seraphic weapon
>For all #382 knew it could have been its own, left behind in the madness of the previous year's assault
>They had struck a solid blow, right across its face, and then there had been darkness
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>It must have been erased then
>Even if the demon hadn't killed it, Hell's corrosive atmosphere surely would have
>The roiling, green-and-black miasma that sustained the screeching, writhing, shapeless horrors that dwelt there was the worst sort of poison to an angel
>It would have succumbed in an instant

>But then...why was it still conscious?
>Why could it still think?

>The exterminator began to stir in confusion, despite its aching muscles

>"It's alright, it's alright..."

>It felt a hand gently press a cloth to its face
>It closed its eyes and allowed whoever it was to wipe away its tears

>Was this some sort of afterlife then?
>Had it been lied to?
>No, no, They wouldn't lie to it
>Perhaps they were simply mistaken?
>After all, no one REALLY knew where an angel's soul went when they were finally struck down
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>The hand finished dabbing at #382's eyes
>It opened them again and beheld a warm, red sky
>It shifted its gaze over toward whoever had been attending to it
>It felt a smile pull at the corners of its mouth, in spite of the grim and ill-understood circumstances it found itself in

>Whatever it was looking at, she was...cute
>Very cute
>She wasn't an angel, like it was, but nor was she a mortal soul or a demideity
>She certainly couldn't be a demon, one of those vague terrors that plagued its dreams even when the next cleanse was still months away
>Not with those perpetually rosy cheeks, as if she had just laughed herself hoarse
>Or that little black dot at the end of her nose that gave her a sort of puppy-dog charm
>Or that bowtie!
>What a charmingly old fashioned accessory. Even mortals seldom wore those anymore
>Maybe this really was some sort of afterlife
>Maybe sacrificing itself to The Legions had won it some sort of reward now that it was finally dead?
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>#382 found its strength and reached up to caress the ivory-skinned woman's cheek
>It tried to draw enough breath to thank her, but it suddenly felt the touch of cold metal at its throat
>"Make another move and I promise you it'll be your last."
>That second voice rang out again, terse and angry
>It was difficult to pull its gaze away from the strange, lovely creature that had been holding it until now, but the blade demanded attention.

>The one holding it at spear-point was actually rather familiar looking
>Soft-grey in skin and hair, like it was, but with flashes of pink that better matched their warmly-hued surroundings
>She too lacked a mask, but she did bear a cross over one of her eyes, like so many of its compatriots
>Perhaps a fellow Exterminator?
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The plot thickens!
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Someone else a while back floated the idea that Vaggie is deliberately trying to make herself look like an exterminator angel as a way of warding off potential threats, so I can't take credit for that. Rn I'm kind of just humping the idea that this thing is just painfully oblivious as to whats going on/where they are now that the illusion they were living in is broken

>"Guys...I really don't think it's trying to hurt me..."

>"Well quite frankly darlin' I really don't think rollin' the dice on this one really has a payout worth the gamble"

>It looked away from the strangely angel-esque entity glaring down at it and toward the source of the third voice

>It was pleasantly surprised

>An exceptionally tall androgyne
>Pink and white, wearing an outfit striped with the same tones
>Replete with warm-looking fluff that looked like it would swallow up its hands entirely if it ever had the opportunity to touch
>Possessed of a second set of arms, and if it focused closely enough it could sense a third set hidden away
>He(?) would be quite lovely if not for the grim look on his face, and the hefty firearm held in his second set of hands

Is this any good or am I just jerking myself off here?
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don't sell yourself short anon. It's a good green.
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>#382 forced itself to take a deep breath
>It hurt
>Probably the worst pain it had felt in a while
>But it needed to say something
>Anything
>If it didn't, they might dismiss it as a lost cause

>"Hello"
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>All three of them seemed startled by the sound of its voice
>The rosy-cheeked woman gasped
>And nearly jumped straight upright
>The movement jostled it badly
>Pain shot through it
>Something was very wrong with its wings

>The pink-bowed pseudo-angel cursed
>It didn't know which of the mortal languages she was speaking. One it hadn't learned yet
>But the tone with which she spoke told it that she was NOT pleased
>The speartip dug deeper into its neck

>The lovely androgyne shouted a curse that it was more familiar with. One that it was not particularly fond of, for it was among the most vulgar that the particular language had managed to produce
>The muzzle of the firearm was now leveled at its head
>It reeked
>The tang of polished metal blended with the heavy aroma of smoke

>Perhaps it should have stayed quiet
>It didn't know exactly what infraction it had committed, but this situation was a familiar enough one
>It was facing a reprimand
>Its heart sunk
>It was in so much pain already, it didn't know how it would handle whatever punishment it had somehow earned
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>"CALM DOWN!"
>The rosy-cheeked woman spoke again, waving off the other two beings
>She looked down at it
>"Hello"

>In spite of the fear it had just felt, it couldn't help but smile upon looking into her eyes again
>"Hello"
>It was repeating itself, but it had no idea what else to say
>Luckily, she did

>"Can you get up?"
>A question it knew the correct answer to
>The answer was always "yes"
>ALWAYS
>If you did not answer in the affirmative, or failed to answer at all, you would be left behind
>It nodded, ignoring the sensation of dried blood crackling off of its neck as it did so

>The rosy-cheeked woman seemed to hesitate
>O...kay then. Uhh, let me help you."
>One of her hands gripped its
>Another slipped under its back
>It ignored the jolt that the act made its wings emit
>It would have to examine them at some point, but at the moment the most crucial thing was to not show weakness

>"Sooo..."

>#382 looked down at the woman who was supporting it
>It tried to take as much of its weight as it could bear off of her
>She was actually a bit smaller than it
>She really shouldn't have to bear such a burden, but her willingness to do so was inspiring

>"Uh, would you like to come in?"
>She drew its attention to a large structure off to their side
>"Hazbin Hotel", the sign read
>Whatever that meant
>It looked around, as far as it could without hurting itself
>The crimson and maroon-hued structure, decorated with apple motifs and with golden light falling from its windows, looked at least as inviting as anything else in this jumbled metropolis
>It nodded again
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>"Fer fuck's sake, we're just gonna invite it in?"
>The androgyne spoke again
>"You know if I wanted my throat slit, I'd just do it myself."
>He was upset, and it knew it was the reason for it
>It would have to apologize for whatever it had done to upset him, whenever it had recovered enough to do so
>He was so pretty, and the idea of being on his bad side was very unappealing

>"Do you really expect me to just leave it lying here?"
>There was a pause
>The pseudo-angel spoke again
>"Charlie, it's dangerous..."
>Another pause
>"You know that's not how I am."
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>"Wait"
>#382 coaxed another word from its throat
>All three of them went quiet
>It managed to pry itself away from the rosy-cheeked woman and turn around

>There
>The spot where it had been lying wasn't hard to pick out
>Not with that pool of blood staining the ground
>Perhaps only a foot away from the pools' edge, it saw the shards of its mask
>It wasn't entirely sure of where it was, or where its comrades were, or what its objective, if it even had one anymore, was, but it did know that such a critical piece of equipment should not be abandoned
>It would face dire consequences if such laxity were ever discovered

>Under its own strength, it stepped back toward where it had lain a moment ago
>It gathered up the pieces of its ruined mask
>There were many, but if it hooked its arm just so, then it could carry all of them one-handed
>That left the other arm free to drape around the rosy-cheeked woman as it stumbled back to her
>It had no idea why she was willing to prop it up in such a moment of gross weakness, but it was grateful
>"We can go now"

>She helped it toward the doors of the building and pushed them open
>The lovely androgyne and the pseudo-angel flanked them
>"Well then..."
>"...welcome..."
>"...I suppose..."

I'm going to get out of the way now. I have to get to work soon.