Hazbin Hotel: Shoot to Thrill

Part 1: The Ripper

                   Chapter 1

       Thunder rolls over the skies of London,  and another victim has fallen to the horror that is Jack The Ripper. The police were baffled by the lack of DNA from the killer. They had been at this for a good month now.

      Meanwhile, a man is perched on a ledge on Big Ben. He had a rolled paper stuffed with tabaco between his teeth. The rain wicked off his coat and tea shades as he watched over the city. A giant leathery buzzard swept down, snatching up the man in its talons. The man unsheathed a knife, plunging it into its thigh. The monster dropped him, shrieking an unholy shriek as the man fell. "You cheeky fuck!" The man shouted as he fell. He threw out a cable, wrapping it around a gargoyle and saving himself. He climbed, growling to himself. The buzzard soared towards him its razor filled maw wide open. The man swung up, and brought his leg down, smashing the beast's skull. The monster plummeted, landing on a statue of Gabriel, limp in the statue's arms. The beast began to burn to ash, falling to the ground.
       The man dropped to the ground, his coat fluttering behind him as he landed with a tunt. He lit another cigarette, sighing to himself. "A fury, of fucking course." He took his shades off to reveal a pair of crimson eyes and placed them in his pocket. "Who was your master, you limey cunt?" He picked up a pinch of ash, rubbing it between his fingers. "Crimson ash, a sign of malicious energy from the summoner. We're looking at a killer." He pulled out a flask, gathering some of the ash for later use. He rose to his feet, looking around.  He realized that the site was a cemetery. He made his way to his base nearby, suddenly hearing the grave digger call to him, "Oye! What're you doing?" The man responded in a gravely voice, "Paying my respects, sir." The grave digger nodded, "Alright,  just be careful. There's a killer out. What's your name, son?" The man looked up, putting his glasses back on, "Brodiel, sir. I'll leave you to your work." The grave digger watched as the man left, sighing "Quite the  Skilamalink."

       Brodiel made it home, putting out his ciggy in a ceramic saucer. He hung up his coat and sat in his lounger with a sigh, "Fuckin mortals. Fuckin beasts." He picked up a news paper, reading it. "If this Ripper is who I think it is, I gotta work fast. The bastard could be workin quick-like." He set it aside, standing up and picking up the candle. He carried it to the bedroom before kicking off his boots and laying down. He didn't bother with the covers and blew out the wick.

                   Chapter 2

     Days past and Brodiel made his way to the police department, wanting to help them find Jack. The police were baffled by the sudden appearance of Brodiel, who was posing as a Bounty hunter. The commissioner stood in front of Brodiel with a sneer. "We can't be paying some random bloke for a job citezens aren't to be triflin in." Brodiel smirked with a chuckle, "If it's payment you're worried about, sir, I don't need any payment." He took off his glasses, "Just wanna help take this mucky fuck down to protect your people." He held out his hand, "We got a deal, sir?" The commissioner thought for a moment, breathing heavy through his nose, "Fine. But don't you think that I'll put up with any shite. If you are pulling one over, I'll hunt you down, tear off yer head and shite down yer throat." He sneered, "Are we clear?" Brodiel smirked, "Crystal. Now, what do you got on this killer?"

       The police helped Brodiel who in turn helped them out incredibly. He showed them the type ink used, and the way to pin point the hand writing. He used the red ash to make an equivalent to Sciluminate with the bioluminescence of the fury he killed.

     They used the fury ash to find the fingerprints only to not find a thing. "What the hell?" A police man exclaimed. Brodiel sighed, "Easy, lad. They could be using gloves, officer...?" The cop responded cautiously, "Sir Charles Warren, a-at your service sir." Brodiel nodded, "Sir Warren, I've hunted several killer's. Many use gloves, but I've seen some who've signed pacts with literal demons." Sir Charles Warren gulped, "Are you saying he's in link with the devil?" Brodiel smirked, "Are you a God fearing man, Charles?" He nodded, "I attend church every Sunday." Brodiel nodded, "Good, if you ever encounter a man like Jack, you'll need to pray." He stood up, "But also, if you studied your Bible you'd know that the devil is Lucifer. He doesn't make deals too often. This seems to be based on necrophelia, considering how precise cuts." He smirked, "Seeing how surgically exact they made this, he's acting out of lust." He sighed, "and seeing as the victims are mainly prostitutes, he saw this as something he'd get off to. If my suspicion is correct he's working with Asmodeas." Charles became pale, clearly disturbed. Brodiel placed his hand on his shoulder, "Charles, this is your duty, but if you need to step back you can." Charles shook his head, "No. I-I'm fine." He cleared his throat, "W-what do we need to keep an eye out for?"