4chan Hazbin Hotel story - Noir's backstory

from /hhg/ - Hazbin Hotel #292
---
I wrote it in a txt file. I can pull it back out.

>Anon?
>Detective Anon?
>Anon!
>Get your ass up, Anon, we gotta roll, RIGHT NOW
>Grab your gun, we have heavy artillery in the car, but you never know if you might need the sidepiece

>It's The Butcher, man, we've got him, but not for long
>He got sloppy. He killed someone within earshot of a lot of people, with plenty of lighting
>He booked it for the woods, but the rest of the boys are already hot on him, we just have to close the last hole in the pattern

>No, no, leave the badge, ditch the hat too. We're going in as humble joes
>What?
>We can't give this loathsome fuck his day in court, Sir.
>We have a description
>He's a real snappy dresser. Nice suit, gold watch, gator skin shoes, monocle, uppercrust accent...
>The bastard's got cash, Detective. Big time cash.
>He can afford an army of lawyers. He'll tie us up in court for years to come. He'll walk.
>Either we end the fucker now, or he gets off scot free.

>Detective?
>Sir, I know you fancy yourself an "upright" fellow, I know you're one to follow the letter of the law, but we can't let that happen.
>This has to end, tonight
>You of all people ought to know we have to stop him, after what he did to your famil-

>Alright, ALRIGHT. Let go of me!
>I'm sorry, I shouldn't have reminded you of that. It's none of my business.

>...Sir?
>Oh
>Hollow points
>Good choice Sir

>Let's move. I'm driving.
-
Not bad, wasn't there a second part to it?
-
More than one part actually

>You gulp down your fear as the shadow creatures flanking you lead you down the hall
>There's no telling where they're taking you, but it can't be good.
>Of course, this IS Hell. There's no place anyone might take that could possibly be very good.

>You feel a chill as they drag you through the double doors into what appears to be an office
>That grinning man, behind the desk, you recognize him.
>Of course you 'recognize' him, it would be practically impossible not to
>You'd seen a crude depiction of his smirking, cervine form on the many posters decorating every wall and alley that warned everyone who looked at them to "Beware The Radio Demon"
>But now, in person, you RECOGNIZED him
>That smile, that monocle, that voice
>You knew exactly who this was

>Alastor

>Louisiana's most beloved talk show host

>Or, as you knew him, "The Bayou Butcher"

>If you'd had three wishes, you'd have used two of them to forget you'd ever crossed paths with the sick, twisted man
>And now he had you at his mercy
-
If I'm not stepping on anyone else's toes I'll keep going.

>"Ahh, Detective! So good of you to spare the time to meet with me. How long has it been now, anyway? Years? Decades?"

>You admit, through gritted teeth, that he has the upper hand here, but you're still not going to play any games with him

>"Games? What games would we have to play?"
>He's already pissing you off
>He knows damn well the exact game you'd be playing

>"Revenge? Why in the nine circles would I want revenge?"

>You roll your eyes
>You're just going to have to go through the whole script, aren't you?
>You remind him, tersely, of why he'd want revenge

>"Really now Detective? You expect me to enact vengeance over something as trivial as putting a bullet between my eyes?"
>"No no no. I'm not upset about that at all!"
>"The only thing I have to be upset about is that I never had a chance to properly congratulate you."
>"I'd managed to give most of your men the slip, despite a valiant effort on their part, but of course, they only understood how to track me thanks to your skillful analysis."
>"I'd have made a clean getaway if you and your friends hadn't beaten me to the river crossing."
>"But then, I killed all of them too, didn't I? Even your right hand man. Your closest confidants weren't equal to the task either."
>"But you, Anon. You were."
>"You managed to do it with one bullet."
>"I've always been curious about how you pulled it off, in such total darkness. It was my smile, wasn't it? My pearly whites glinting in the moonlight helped you find your target."
>"Still, you were quite the crack shot, especially with your friends' blood making the gun so slippery."
>"Bravo sir!"
>"You're the only man who ever bested me."
>"My hat is off to you."
-
>"Do you know the real reason I had you brought here, Detective?"
>"Oh come now, surely you can at least guess."

>He's got you beat. If not to exact revenge now that you're in Hell, where he seems to be holding all the cards, then why?
>You hear something like a radio setup having just a bit too much current put through it as the creep smiles wider

>"It's because I was not at all pleased to hear that you ended up down here."

>He wasn't?

>"I have my reasons. For one, I was rather enjoying the favorable position I found myself in once I arrived in this inferno, and having the man who killed me roaming about sours things somewhat."

>"But, more importantly, it strikes me as terribly unfair, your fate."

>"You won the game. You beat me fair and square, and yet you are consigned to the same eternal fate as me?"
>"What nonsense."
>"You don't belong here Detective. You belong upstairs, with your wife and child."

>You grit your teeth and grip the arms of the chair so hard you can hear the wood creaking
>You ask, as politely as possible without losing a drop of your overwhelming contempt, not to talk about them

>"Forgive me, I can see this is still a rather...tender subject."

>You lunge across the desk at him
>The shadows abruptly appear again to flank you and hold you back
>You scream and curse until you're hoarse
>You struggle against your captors until your muscles burn
>You tell him he doesn't even deserve to speak their names
>You tell him that if he does so again, you WILL find a way to kill him a second time, even if it takes you until Armageddon
>He just smiles
-
>"Very well, Detective, very well."
>"As I was saying, your presence here has me quite put out, and I want you gone."

>The shadows dissipate after you sink back into your seat

>"And you'd like to leave as well, wouldn't you?"
>"You'd have to be quite mad to say no, this is HELL after all. Only an utter loon would want to stay here."

>You're certain he's aware of the irony of that statement

>"I can offer you a way out. Well, a chance at a way out."

>He slides a tri-folded slip of paper across the desk to you
>It's a rather cheaply printed pamphlet advertising the "Happy Hotel"
>From the name, you'd think it was a low end brothel in the part of town where the neon burns the eyes right out of your head, but the text instead delivers a vague but very upbeat message about how a sinners might still find their way to Heaven, accompanied by crudely drawn graphics depicting saccharine subjects

>"I've recently made the acquaintance of a charming young woman with a madcap scheme to lift people just like you up out of this dreadful pit."
>"I've decided to lend a hand."

>He did WHAT?

>"No one thinks she can pull it off."
>"She's rather shorthanded and underfunded."

>Unsurprising. There's a certain bitter shiftlessness that seems to infect everyone down here.

>"I don't expect you to do anything about the latter, but you can certainly help with the former."

>He leans forward

>"Your skills would certainly be no detriment to the enterprise. Order will need to be kept, acts of tomfoolery will need to be handled."
>"You could be a real asset."
>"Why not check yourself in?"
-
>The bastard is offering you employment?
>At an infernal rehab clinic of all places?
>You grimace and ask him what exactly he of all people hopes to gain by investing in such an absurd idea

>He tilts his head

>"That's none of your concern, now is it?"
>"All I'm asking is that you put your talents to use on this fool's errand rather than the many others you have to choose from."
>You have no reason NOT to throw your weight behind this project, but not much reason to do so either
>Ascending straight up from this lousy hole, right past Earth, all the way to Heaven, sounds more like a day dream than anything with a chance of actually happening
>What practical reward could he possibly offer you to actually make this worthwhile? A map to El Dorado? A night in Clara Bow's bed?

>He shrugs

>"Beyond the little lady's promise of redemption? Little beyond my own mutual support."

>His support? Why would you need, much less even want, that?

>He leans closer still, his smile now threatening to lift his cheeks right off his face

>"Have you forgotten your own storied career, Detective? There are many others down here that you either put down or put away for a very long time."
>"Few of them, none of them I dare say, are as sporting as I."
>"They'll be searching high and low for you once they realize you're here."

>Ah, there's the hook.
>You do as he says and you (supposedly) live on easy street
>You tell him what he can cram and where he can cram it, and your afterlife suddenly becomes a whole lot more difficult.
>Great. Just great.

>"So, whaddya say?"
-
>Its your turn to shrug
>Why not?
>You know when you've got the upper hand, and this isn't one of those times
>A reliable roof over your head and some task to focus on, no matter how mundane, might not be the worst thing in the world
>It'll certainly be better than the heaping helping of nothing you've had on your plate since you died
>One thing needs to be understood though, to be made perfectly clear
>You're going to attend these 'redemption sessions' and assist this foolish girl he seems so taken with entirely for your own reasons
>You're doing this for yourself
>You're not doing this for him
>You hate him, and you always will

>"Wonderful! I'll drink to that!"

>Alastor snaps his fingers and you suddenly notice a frost-encrusted bottle sitting on the desk that wasn't there before
>He pulls the stopper out and pours two glasses
>You recognize the aroma
>Herbsaint, chilled
>Your favorite

>Why the fuck does he know that?

>"Here's to your redemption, Anon!"
>He slides your glass over to you and raises his in a toast
>Sure, to your redemption. And here's to seeing as little of his ever-smiling mug as possible.
>You both knock your drinks back in one go. You need to cop a buzz after the day you've had, he's, well, you don't know why he's so quick to down such a strong dose of liquor. Try as you might, you never did manage to peer deep enough into his mind to figure out little quirks like that.
-
>"Good show old boy, good show!"

>He sets his glass down on the desk with a thunk.

>"You'll like this girl, Detective, I'm sure of it. She's a good egg, a real believer in all the right stuff, just like you used to be."
>"You'll get along splendidly."

>The killer sends another slip of paper your way

>"I took the liberty of writing down some directions for you. Strictly a formality, I know a man like you would have no trouble tracking down a stationary building, but this should save you some time."

>You hear a hum and an in-between-stations crackle, and the shadow creatures are once again standing beside you, at the very edge of your field of vision.

>"My associates will see you to the door. Take the rest of the day to gather your belongings and settle any affairs you may still have. I'll see to it that Charlie knows to expect you."

>You proceed to the door at a brisk pace, ready to give either of these murky monstrosities a beating the minute they ask for it. You're quite sick of them at this point.

>"Oh and Detective."

>"Good luck."

-END-