Adam's revenge // swap

Part 8.

Adam's pov:

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I slipped past the flickering neon sign of the Hazbin Hotel. A sliver of doubt, sharp as a broken halo, sliced through my boiling rage. Husk. Had he seen me? The hulking demon had been too focused on Angel, slumped over the couch like a discarded marionette, to pay me much mind. But still, the unease lingered.

Pushing through the swinging doors, the stench of brimstone and regret assaulted me. The lobby, devoid of its usual demonic patrons, was eerily quiet. Where was everyone? Where were Charlie and Vaggie, the architects of this twisted redemption scheme? A cold fury, ice wrapping around the embers of my rage, solidified. They were nowhere to be found.

A rhythmic clicking sound drew me from my brooding. In the corner, Nifty, the demon with a penchant for tidiness, was scrubbing a bloodstain on the worn floor with manic fervor.

Her short, red hair stuck out in damp clumps around her face. The usually bright pink eyes were dull, etched with a deep regret that seemed at odds with her youthful features.

Nifty let out a petrified yelp, the mop clattering to the floor. "Adam!" she stammered, her voice choked with terror. Her knees wobbled, threatening to buckle beneath her. She looked like a cornered animal, desperate for escape but with nowhere to run.

Every fiber of my being burned with the need for vengeance. This demon, this pathetic excuse for a housekeeper, was the one who had tried to kill me. The one who, in a cruel twist of fate, had set in motion the events that led to Lute's demise.

Nifty did regret killing Lute. She'd never meant for things to go that far. But seeing the fury in my eyes, a fury that seemed to crackle with the power of Heaven itself, terror seized her.

Angels weren't supposed to visit Hell, especially not with such a dark aura. It spoke of a vengeance far colder than anything she'd ever encountered.

My gaze snagged on the bloodstain again, the sickening red a stark reminder. Lute. My best friend, my confidante, sacrificed herself to save me from Nifty's wrath. Her amazing skills with a spear and her unwavering loyalty, the warmth of her presence, was just a memory now, a phantom limb aching in my soul.

The ice around my rage began to crack, a terrifying heat threatening to consume me. My hand drifted towards the angelic weapon strapped to my thigh, the polished metal a cold comfort against the inferno within. Nifty flinched, her eyes widening in terror as she realized the danger she was in. Tears streamed down her face, mascara tracks staining her cheeks.

"No, sir," she stammered, her voice choked with terror. "I-It was an accident! I didn't realise she would-"

I cut her off with a harsh laugh, devoid of humour. "An accident? You expect me to believe that convenient lie?" Nifty flinched again, but this time, there was no defiance in her eyes, only abject terror. She wasn't facing a vengeful angel anymore. She was facing a monster, an embodiment of rage fueled by grief, and she knew, deep down, that she wasn't going to walk away from this encounter.

This wasn't about some grand plan to disrupt the hotel. This wasn't about saving Charlie's little experiment. No, this was personal. This was about making that pathetic demon pay for her crimes.

Unseen on the rooftop, bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun, Charlie and Vaggie were finishing up their lunch. Charlie sighed contentedly, leaning back in her deckchair. "Maybe a little break is just what we all needed, Vaggie. A chance to recharge."

Vaggie, ever the pragmatist, snorted. "Don't get too soft on me, Charlie. We still have a hell of a job ahead of us."

Charlie chuckled. "Relax, Vaggie. We'll save Hell one sinner at a time. Besides," she added, a mischievous glint in her eye, "if things get too boring, we can always stir the pot a little."