This is the first attempt to write the Hazbin Hotel fanfic, before the release of season 1. Since then, I've edited the story to fit with the new information about the new Prime series.
The rewritten, better fanfic is here: https://www.wattpad.com/1...
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I have finally stumbled into the hotel's doorway. I wear my new black top and cargo pants.
Angel's changing room was more of a backstage actor room. He sneaked me through the back door of the shiny building and let me take a shower and change. I asked for a pair of scissors to cut a hole in my pants for my tail, but he refused to give me those. Instead, he cut the hole for me. I guess it was for the best, as I'd have just ripped the material.
I left him to his work and wandered on the streets of Hell. I wasn't familiar with that part of the city and my orientation skills seem to work best in the woods, not in the City. I had to rely on smell and asking for directions. At least two demons out of five told me bullshit.
I dream of my room right now. I am so exhausted from this day already. It tends to tire you, you know? This combination of explosions, discoveries of new abilities, and marathons. I think it's Hell's way to celebrate my first anniversary.
Thank you, no thank you!
The world darkens for the second time today and I watch the black streak indifferently. It circles me and stops behind me this time. I turn around and raise my head to the shadow head. I wait for the color to come back, but the only thing that happens is the shadow getting more detailed.
Do I have to touch him?
I really don't want to. But I can't be stuck like this here, in a world of grays. I try another reasonable way to return.
"I know it's you, Alastor."
The world seems to paint itself, only this time from the edge of my vision to the middle. Alastor's face is the last that gets color.
"You're a curious phenomenon, my dear!" His mic echoes a quiet crowd of laughter.
I sigh and turn my back, searching for the stairs.
"How was the shopping escapade?" he asks unbothered from behind.
"Escapade?" I repeat. There's no way he knows. I play dumb: "It was merely some clothes choice. Angel Dust indeed made it more palpable."
"Indeed he would," he reaches to my left. "And, oh, such a fine choice of clothes!"
"Thanks," I say.
"Mind if I ask... Where are your old clothes?" he wonders. When I look at him, I see a predator smile on his face. I realize that I was wrong. He must know something. There's no use in denying it anymore.
"I threw them away. They were ruined, after all."
"With blood, I presume," he grins smugly.
"What gave it away?" I try to smile, but it comes weakly.
"Ha ha ha. You reek of blood, darling!"
"You're one to talk!" I snort.
"He he, I see Angel already spilled some beans," he shrugs.
