The Guy With The Gun - Caleb (Blood) x Hazbin Hotel

Pitiful

"No one wants to play with me..." Caleb spoke. The demon in front of him shivered. "Except you."

Caleb loaded his shotgun. The Demon promptly pissed himself and dropped his tiny pistol. He got down on his knees and begged.

"Please, don't hurt me!"

"Pitiful." Caleb thought. He shot the poor bastard in the head, spraying the walls with his blood.

"Become stronger.. never fall to your knees and beg." Caleb said, and tipped his hat.

Caleb was in Hell. How? He didn't know. Last he recalled he was still... kinda alive.

Although, the Demons here weren't anything like how his Pa said they would be, but he wouldn't complain. These ones had cognitive function, and didn't throw dynamite at you.

Caleb took it as it was; a blessing. Why someone would bless him, he wouldn't know. After all.. he was the last person deserving of a blessing.

Caleb walked the streets of Hell, scaring off anybody he walked near. He had an aura of sheer power around him that nobody dared to challenge.

The area of Hell he was in wasn't ideal, but it was a city. There was dirt, grime and graffiti on every wall. There was a looming sense of dread and danger, and his gut constantly told him to get the hell out of dodge. But he stopped listening to his gut long ago.

The stench was awful. It smelt like sulfur and napalm, with hints of shit, piss, and marijuana.

Homeless demons lined almost every alleyway. It really was a horrible place. But he didn't care.

After walking for a while, he stopped at a large building.

"Hazbin Hotel.. what a stupid name. But.. it will suffice for the time being.." He spoke in his creepy-ass drawl.

He knocked thrice on the door.

Nothing.

He knocked two more times.

After 2 minutes of waiting, he got rather impatient.

"What the hell kind of way is this to treat guests..?"

He was getting antsy.

Nobody had tried to kill him for 14 minutes and it was getting under his skin. He was used to having to be constantly on-guard and vigilant, lighter at the ready, just in case dynamite was needed. He always needed a hand in his ammo pocket, always needed to look out for keys.

But this.. this was rather nice. How ironic.

Hell, the one place that's always been said to be downright awful, has been the most kind to him. Gives you perspective on just how fucked his life has become since he met Ophelia.

But he wouldn't trade meeting her for anything.

The door finally opened. A white-skinned lady with pink cheeks stood there, looking terrified.

"Hello... my name is Caleb Monolith." He held out his hand. The lady took his hand and shook it slowly.

Caleb noticed her situation, and decided to clarify.

"I am not here to cause harm."

The lady sighed in relief.

"My name is Charlie! Nice to meet you, Caleb."

Caleb nodded.

They stood there.

"So.."

"Ah, Yes! Would you like to stay at our hotel?" Charlie asked. Caleb nodded.

"Great!" Charlie led him inside, and over to a receptionist table.

"Here is your key. Room 43, floor 3. The elevator is down that hallway, first door on the right." Charlie handed him his key. Caleb took it, and nodded at Charlie. He left the room.

"Was that a human?" Husk asked.

"Don't think so. Humans don't have glowing red eyes. He really got unlucky with his demon form, huh? He looks Amish." Angel spoke up from a nearby piece of furniture, and snickered at his own jab.

"Yeah, that makes sense." Husk said, and took a sip of beer. "It's Hell. Why do I even question anything.." He muttered to himself.

Caleb walked through the halls, and came across a red demon.

"Well! Greetings, my friend! Hey, you look down! Get a smile on your face, you're never fully dressed without one! My name is Alastor, what's yours?"

Caleb ignored him.

"Hey! I'm talking to you-"

Alastor was cut off by the fact that a double barrel was aimed at his head.

"I don't wanna talk to you." Caleb said simply.

Alastor smiled more. "I can see I'm not welcome here! Have a good day, sir!"

Caleb turned around and walked off.

He opened the elevator, walked inside, and pressed the button that had a '3' next to it. As it should, it went upwards.

He stepped out of the elevator and walked to his room. He pulled out his dynamite and lighter. When he opened the door, he almost lit the bundle, before realizing he was being an idiot.

He walked inside the room.

It was clean. It was nice. Cultists weren't at every corner, and no butchers were throwing cleavers. He sat down on the bed, and for the first time in a long time, he relaxed his shoulders.

He fell onto the bed, feeling himself sink in slightly. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He closed his eyes, and fell asleep quickly.

A/N:

Hello! Thanks for checking out my story!

I just recently got into Blood, and I realized one problem: practically nobody knows about it. Like at all. It's such a good game, and Caleb is such a cool anti-hero.

But I also like Hazbin hotel. So, why not send this gunslinging cowboy to hell?