The RADIO DEMON and the ANGEL

Episode 7 - Rehab

The world tilted at a nauseating angle, Haven's stumbling gait more akin to a drunken caricature than a purposeful stride. Her vision swam, blurring the already grotesque denizens of the Pride Ring into grotesque smears of color. Each accidental bump, each muttered curse from a jostled demon, sent fresh waves of pain through her already ravaged body. Here, in the heart of vanity, even annoyance held the potential for violence. A stray elbow here, a dismissive shove there – in Hell, even a public nuisance warranted a punch.

The cumulative effect, however, was too much to bear. Her legs, already shaky from the escape, buckled under the weight of her exhaustion. The concrete loomed large, promising a painful end. But it never came. Strong arms materialized around her, catching her just before impact. Disoriented and utterly drained, Haven could barely make out the face hovering above her – a young woman, concern etched on her features, her voice a muffled drone against the roaring silence in Haven's ears.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay? Do you need help? Oh my god, Vaggie, we need to help them!"

Another voice cut through the haze, a voice tinged with trepidation. "Charlie, are you sure about this? They could be dangerous! You don't even KNOW them!"

The concern in the first voice, Charlie by the sound of it, warred with the caution in the second, presumably Vaggie. But Charlie persisted.

"But I can't leave them to die here, we need to bring them back to the hotel!"

A sigh, heavy with resignation, followed. "Ugh, alright, fine! But if they pose a danger to you or anyone else in the hotel, they are OUT."

With that pronouncement, the world dissolved into blissful darkness. The chaotic symphony of the Pride Ring faded into a welcome oblivion, the promise of a respite, however temporary, a small miracle amidst the relentless torment of the damned. Perhaps, just perhaps, a flicker of kindness existed even in this infernal realm. If nothing else, it offered a chance to recuperate, a chance to gather her strength and focus on the true mission – finding Alastor. The hunt wasn't over. It had merely taken a detour, a detour that, for the first time in decades, offered a glimmer of hope, a faint echo of humanity amidst the flames.

***

A jackhammer pounded a rhythmic tattoo against Haven's skull. Each breath was a battle, her throat a parched desert. Groaning, she forced her eyes open, met not by the cold, unforgiving concrete she expected, but by a tapestry of concerned faces. Two girls hovered above her, their expressions a curious blend of wariness and compassion. One, a blonde with bright, hopeful eyes, held Haven's hand, her grip gentle but firm. The other, sporting a scowl and a wicked-looking spear, held the weapon pointed dangerously close to Haven's throat.

"Oh my gosh, you're awake! Finally!" the blonde exclaimed, leaning closer.

The spear-wielding girl, her sharp gaze scrutinizing Haven, barked out, "Who are you, and why shouldn't I kill you?"

Haven flinched as the spear nudged a little closer. With a sigh that tore at her raw throat, she croaked, "My name is Haven. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just... I need help."

Her answer earned a skeptical glare from the armed girl, who Haven now realized was named Vaggie. But the blonde, Charlie, just nudged Vaggie with her elbow, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. "See, Vaggie? I told you!"

Charlie, as if sensing Haven's weakness, squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Hi Haven, I'm Charlie Morningstar, and you're at the Hazbin Hotel! We aim to help rehabilitate sinners and offer them a chance at redemption to go to Heaven!"

Vaggie, though lowering her spear slightly, remained unconvinced. "Are you even interested in redemption?" she questioned, her voice laced with suspicion.