Unexpected guests
Morning for sinners in Hell started in a rather typical fashion. The massive brawl in the Doomsday District wasn’t yet widely known, so the day promised to be just as ordinary as any other for Hell’s inhabitants—full of murders, drug use, and other debauchery.
The newly opened Happy Hotel was still waking up.
“Good morning, Angel!” – Charlie called out with her usual cheerful enthusiasm, mixing batter for pancakes.
“Yeah, yeah, morning to you too…” – grumbled Angel, clearly not having had enough sleep.
Vaggie sat at the table, giving Angel a curt nod before returning to something on her phone. Once breakfast was ready, Charlie placed pancakes on plates, set out a pot of coffee, and joined them.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” – she asked Angel.
“Ohhh, it’s going to be a long day at work…” – Angel groaned, pouring coffee into his mouth like it was a life-saving elixir.
“You chose this kind of job,” – Vaggie said sharply.
“Yeah, and I don’t regret it one bit, so fuck off!” – Angel snapped back.
“Guys, don’t start,” – Charlie intervened.
Once breakfast was over, Angel left for “work,” while Charlie and Vaggie settled on the couch to watch TV. They were flipping through channels, ready to immerse themselves in their favorite show when it was suddenly interrupted by breaking news:
“Breaking news! Good morning, dear sinners, this is Katie Killjoy.”
“And I’m Tom Tr…” – began her co-host before Katie interrupted him.
“Yeah, no one gives a shit. Let’s get to the news. We’ve received reports that things are heating up again in the Doomsday District! The gang war between sinners and the local overlord squads has reignited with new fury. Additionally, there’s word of a new force entering the fight for control over this area—a currently unidentified group. What’s clear is that they’re heavily armed. We’ve obtained footage from the scene.”
The TV screen switched to images of a battle. Crowds of sinners were attempting to advance on a building from which heavy gunfire was coming. Suddenly, two massive armored vehicles arrived, mowing down advancing demons. Five figures in black emerged from the building, climbed into the vehicles, and drove away.
“What this new force is and what to expect from them, we’ll discuss in our next program,” – Tom Trench concluded.
The broadcast ended.
Charlie stared at the screen with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. Her face was a mix of astonishment and concern. Lowering the remote to her lap, she turned to Vaggie.
“Did you see that?” – Charlie asked, her voice trembling with surprise.
“Of course I saw it,” – Vaggie replied, looking much more composed. She crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. “Some new armed group? Hell doesn’t have enough violence already, and now there’s this…”
Charlie gripped the remote tighter as if trying to steady her rising emotions.
“Maybe they were just defending themselves?” – she suggested, her voice tinged with hope. “I saw them retreat. It looked more like defense than an attack.”
“Defense?” – Vaggie turned to Charlie sharply, her eyes narrowing. “They’re armed to the teeth, Charlie! That’s not just a ‘self-defense group.’ This is something serious.”
“Maybe we should find out more about them?” – Charlie mused, her tone soft but resolute.
“Are you kidding me?” – Vaggie snapped, glaring at her. “Charlie, we’re barely keeping this hotel afloat as it is, and now you want us to get involved with a group of heavily armed maniacs?”
“I’m not saying we should meet them,” – Charlie quickly replied, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Just… understand what they’re about. If they’re a new power, we need to be informed.”
Vaggie squinted, crossing her arms again.
“I know you, Charlie. You’ll say it’s just to ‘look around,’ and next thing I know, you’ll be in the middle of a shootout trying to make everyone friends.”
“But what if…” – Charlie hesitated, lost in thought. “What if they’re people who are tired of the chaos and violence? Maybe they want to change things.”
Vaggie sighed heavily, her gaze softening but still skeptical.
“I know you want to see the good in everyone, but let’s face the facts: groups like this rarely do anything good in Hell. And we’re better off staying out of their way unless we want this hotel to become their next target.”
With that, the discussion about the new players on Hell’s stage ended. Charlie and Vaggie decided to head back to the penthouse to continue watching their favorite shows.
From the Squad’s Perspective:
A convoy of two heavy MRAP vehicles sped along the outskirts of the city. The road was bumpy, filled with potholes. The driver of the second vehicle, which carried a severely injured sergeant, carefully avoided the worst of them. The metallic smell of blood mixed with antiseptics filled the cramped interior as the medic worked to stop the heavy bleeding.
Edward moved to the back seat to be closer to his injured comrade. Being of the same rank, there was no need for formalities between them, and they had been close friends since boot camp. They often spent their leaves drinking together or playing cards in the soldiers’ club.
Ward knew time wasn’t on their side. Staring at the sergeant’s pale face, Edward felt a lump rise in his throat, choking him. He wasn’t ready to lose him—not like this, not here.
“Hang in there, Adam…” – Edward murmured. “We’ll patch you up, you hear me? Don’t you dare pass out on me!” he insisted, keeping his friend conscious.
“Damn it, he’s losing too much blood,” – the medic said tensely, pressing a cloth to Adam’s wound. His calm demeanor barely masked the strain in his voice.
“He won’t last long like this. We need surgery. We need to find a place to stop, preferably with some medical equipment,” – Dr. Simon concluded.
“According to the map from the drone, we’re here,” – Edward said, pointing to a tablet. “We’ve put some distance between us and the destroyed part of the city. There aren’t any inhabited buildings nearby. However, there’s a large structure about five kilometers from here. Judging by the sign, it’s a hotel. It looks abandoned, so the risk of running into locals is minimal. In any case, we need a place to regroup, and this hotel is our best shot,” he finished.
Edward grabbed the radio and contacted the lead vehicle, reporting Adam’s condition and his suggestion to stop at the abandoned hotel. The captain agreed, and the convoy headed toward the northern part of the city. Despite the poor, sometimes ruined roads, the journey only took about twenty minutes. They soon reached the base of a hill where the massive structure with the “Happy Hotel” sign loomed above. Its decrepit state suggested it hadn’t been used in a long time.
The captain decided to observe the building to ensure there were no signs of locals inside. Seeing no signs of life, the plan to use the structure for a rest stop was put into motion. The captain and another soldier opened the heavy gates, allowing the vehicles to enter the courtyard.
The convoy parked, and soldiers disembarked. Ward and another soldier from SP2 unloaded the stretcher with the wounded Adam. They found the front doors locked, but the captain forced them open with a swift kick, allowing the squad to enter.
Inside, they were met with a dusty lobby that clearly hadn’t served as a hotel for some time. Despite this, the squad moved cautiously. The captain led the way, accompanied by SP1-7 Harper and SP1-4 Jason. They checked every corner, and after clearing the first floor, it became clear there was no immediate threat.
Adam was placed on a table in the foyer as Simon applied new bandages to slow the bleeding. While somewhat successful, Adam was still in critical condition.
“Find a medical room. We need to extract the shrapnel and bullets immediately,” – the medic instructed.
One of the soldiers found an elevator and, out of curiosity, pressed the call button. To everyone’s surprise, the elevator began descending.
“What was that?” – Vaggie asked warily, sitting with Charlie in their penthouse on the top floor of the hotel.
“I don’t know. Should we check downstairs? Maybe Angel forgot something,” – Charlie suggested.
“Maybe, but I think I heard the sound of engines earlier,” – Vaggie replied.
The elevator’s arrival on the first floor was accompanied by the familiar chime of an old elevator. It was likely that music played inside during its descent.
“Surprising that it still works,” – Jason remarked.
“Maybe it works, but I wouldn’t trust it,” – Harper replied.
“Harper, Jason, you’re with me. We need to thoroughly check the first floor—if we’re lucky, we’ll find a medical room,” – Ward ordered.
“Yes, Sergeant!” – the two replied.
The three soldiers moved cautiously down the hallway, their weapon-mounted flashlights illuminating the way. Their footsteps echoed in the silence, broken only by the faint crackle of aging wiring. The air was thick with dust, stale odors, and something faintly unpleasant.
They entered a spacious lounge. Ornate sofas stood arranged in a circle, seemingly inviting them to sit. In the center was a massive coffee table with a cracked lamp. A TV in the corner had its red power light on, reflecting the silhouettes of the three figures in the dim room.
“I don’t like this. Someone’s been here recently,” – Harper noted, inspecting the remote.
“Seems like it. Look,” – Jason said, pointing to the dusty floor. The carpet showed faint footprints leading to a door in the far corner.
Edward crouched to examine them more closely. “Unclear, but more than one person passed through here,” – he muttered. “Let’s move on.”
The next room was a small library. The shelves were filled with books with strange titles like “You and Your Sins,” “Basics of Magical Rituals,” and “Eternity of Pain: How Not to Lose Your Mind as a Sinner.”
“Charming literature,” – Jason quipped with a smirk.
“First the billboards, then the creatures, now this…” – Harper said cautiously.
“Stay focused. Let’s check the other rooms,” – Ward instructed.
Further down the corridor, they entered a massive dining hall. Unlike the other rooms, this one seemed less abandoned, with far less dust. It featured high ceilings and massive windows adorned with equally massive crimson curtains. The walls were decorated with various artworks, including some recognizable earthly pieces.
One painting stood out—a relatively small one depicting a group of people. A short man with pale skin wore a white suit with red accents, a hat, and carried a cane with a red apple-shaped handle. Beside him stood a tall woman indistinguishable from a regular human and a small girl with pale skin, red circles on her cheeks, and a little red hat.
“Hmmm, I wonder who they are,” – Jason mused aloud.
“I’d bet they’re the owners of this place,” – Harper speculated, scrutinizing the painting.
The kitchen took the soldiers by surprise. Unlike the other rooms, it showed clear signs of recent use. A pot of still slightly warm coffee sat on the table, unwashed dishes were piled in the sink, and the air carried the faint aroma of pancakes.
“Sergeant, we’re definitely not alone here,” – Harper reported, her tone tense.
“I’ve noticed. This place is anything but abandoned,” – Ward replied. “We need to warn the others. I don’t like where this is going.”
Suddenly, the sharp crack of a gunshot and a scream echoed from the room where the rest of the squad was stationed.
“What the…? Back to our men, now!” – Ward barked, springing into action.
Moments Earlier:
The doctor was bent over Adam's body, carefully extracting shrapnel from his wounds. The sergeant lay motionless, his face deathly pale and his breathing shallow. The other soldiers held their positions, scanning the surroundings and keeping their weapons at the ready. Adam's muffled groans interrupted the eerie silence.
Nick, the third member of the SP2 squad, stood by the staircase, tensely pondering the situation they were in. An unknown reality, a battle against humanoid creatures, and their sergeant's injury – these thoughts gnawed at his mind. Suddenly, the soldier heard a rustling sound – and felt the cold touch of metal against his neck. His entire body tensed as an unfamiliar voice spoke from behind:
"Don’t move. What are you doing here?!"
The voice was clearly female – yet the words were firm. A chill ran down the soldier’s spine as the pressure of the weapon on his neck increased.
"Who. Are. You?!" – the female voice repeated from behind.
The other soldiers noticed the unfolding situation and immediately aimed their weapons at the unexpected visitor.
"DROP THE WEAPON AND STEP AWAY FROM THE SOLDIER, IMMEDIATELY!" – the captain barked furiously, pointing his pistol at Vaggie.
"I won’t," – she replied coldly. "What are you doing in our home?!"
"I’m repeating this one last time. Step away and drop the weapon," – the captain said in a steely voice.
"What is going on here?!" — a female voice suddenly cut through the tension like a knife. Everyone turned toward the staircase, where Charlie was descending. Her expression was a mix of surprise and indignation.
"Who are you?!" — she asked, stopping at the last step.
"STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" — shouted one of the soldiers, pointing his weapon at her. She immediately raised her hands to show she wasn’t planning to attack.
"What is happening here?" – she asked anxiously.
The situation reached a boiling point when the main doors swung open, revealing Angel.
"Hey, has anyone seen my druuu…" – he began, but froze mid-sentence as he noticed the group of armed strangers in the corridor. "Well, well! A party without me?!" – his voice was dripping with sarcasm, but as soon as he spotted the soldiers, his grin disappeared.
Angel swiftly drew his weapons. All six of his hands held different guns, aiming at each of the soldiers.
"DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" – shouted one of the soldiers, firing a warning shot near Angel’s head.
"Make me," – Angel retorted with a smirk.
Vaggie bristled as the soldiers pointed their guns at Charlie. She tightened her grip on her spear, still holding it to the soldier’s neck. Suddenly, there was a click behind her.
"I wouldn’t," – a cold voice said. Edward was aiming his pistol at Vaggie’s head. "Drop the weapon, or this won’t end well for you," – he said firmly.
Charlie stood on the staircase with her hands raised. She watched the unfolding scene with visible fear. It wasn’t every day that a dozen armed men in combat gear and black masks barged into your home. Just as the tension was about to snap, a pained groan echoed from another part of the room.
Charlie looked closer and saw a figure lying on a table. One of the strangers was bent over him, frantically working to help his comrade. The captain, still aiming at Charlie, turned his head and spoke:
"Shade (Connor’s call sign), help Doc."
One of the soldiers lowered his weapon, turned, and went to assist his teammate. Charlie froze, watching the scene. She blinked, trying to make sense of what was happening. Why was he writhing in pain? Why was the other so desperate to help? The captain had ordered his subordinate to assist the doctor, but such behavior seemed pointless with demons – wounds always healed over time unless inflicted by angelic weapons. Charlie couldn’t take her eyes off the situation. Her mind refused to process that these fighters cared so much about their "wounded." Do demons do that? She was used to different norms.
"Was it you fighting in the destroyed city?" – she finally forced out, cautiously glancing at the captain, whose gaze remained cold and impenetrable.
"None of your business," – he replied, not lowering his weapon.
"If he’s injured by angelic weapons… we have a medical room," – Charlie cautiously offered, struggling to stay calm. She slowly lowered one hand to point down the hallway. "Maybe it can help?"
"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!" – Vaggie shouted in disbelief. "Charlie, they broke into our home and threatened us with weapons, and you’re offering help?!"
"Keep it together, Vaggie!" – Charlie snapped back, looking at her pleadingly. "Please, trust me. And lower the spear from the soldier – it’s unnecessary."
"Ha!" – a sarcastic laugh came from Angel. All eight of his hands held weapons at the ready, their barrels glinting in the dim light of the chandelier. "Are you sure they’re harmless? Maybe they’re just playing a role? You know, demons love role-playing too!"
Charlie’s words made the captain pause. He turned his head, glancing at the others. The soldiers exchanged looks, clearly weighing the risk.
"Doc?" – the captain asked briefly, not moving his finger from the trigger.
"For the necessary procedures, we need a sterile environment," – the man bent over the wounded soldier replied tensely. "If she has a suitable room, SP2-1’s chances of survival will improve."
The captain frowned for a moment, then looked at Charlie.
"If you try to set a trap," – his voice turned steely, – "none of you will leave alive."
Charlie couldn’t find the words, so she just nodded. She cast a pleading look at Vaggie, who reluctantly lowered her spear. The soldier behind her also holstered his pistol. Angel glanced around, tensed up for a moment, but eventually stowed all eight of his guns. The Spartans followed suit one by one. The captain scanned the room, realized the immediate threat was gone, and then placed his Beretta on safety before holstering it.
"Lead the way," – he said curtly. Despite his harsh tone, Charlie could hear something… was it fear? No, concern! Concern for the wounded soldier, who was being carried on a stretcher by the doctor and someone the leader had called Shade. Charlie walked past the captain, heading down the hallway with Vaggie and Angel. The captain followed, with two soldiers keeping their weapons within quick reach. Behind them came the doctor with the stretcher, and the column was closed by the remaining soldiers.
A minute later, they reached a white door. Opening it, the soldiers found a relatively small procedural room. The captain carefully inspected the room, then nodded at the doctor to proceed. He and the soldier placed the wounded man on the table, pulling out the necessary tools from his backpack and laying them on a small metal tray nearby.
"More light is needed," – he said. "Also, I need towels and a basin of warm water."
Charlie nodded, walked to the switch, and turned on the additional lights. There was a faucet in the room, so she grabbed the nearest container and filled it with warm water. She placed the basin on the table near the instruments, then opened one of the cabinets where old bandages were stored.
"Will this… work?" – she timidly asked, addressing the doctor, or so she thought. He only nodded without looking up from extracting the shrapnel. At the moment Charlie came closer, the doctor was pulling out one of the bullets lodged in the wounded soldier. As he did so, a small fountain of blood spurted from the open wound, some of it landing on Charlie’s face. She quickly tried to wipe the liquid off, but then it hit her – the blood was WARM. Not just warm, almost hot, as if… alive. For a few seconds, she stared at the red substance on her hands, then took a closer look at the soldier lying on the table. His face was covered by a black balaclava, but through the opening, she could see his closed eyes and part of his face. It looked surprisingly normal, unaffected by Hell’s influence. Suddenly, the wounded man opened his eyes and tried to scream in pain, but only a raspy sound came out. His eyes, wide with terror and agony, seemed to stare through her. Those eyes, so bright and clear, had nothing in common with the eyes of Hell’s demons.
"You…" – Charlie faltered, unable to find the words. Her voice was almost a whisper, but it was heard.
The captain, standing to the side, turned to her tensely, his face remaining cold.
"What?" – he asked sharply, his tone more a warning than genuine curiosity.
Charlie slowly looked at him, her gaze full of amazement and bewilderment.
"You… you’re not demons," – she finally said, as if the realization knocked her off her feet.
Those words seemed to hang in the air. The soldiers exchanged glances, but none of them spoke. The doctor continued his work, his movements precise and focused, but even he hesitated for a moment.
"Demons?" – the captain repeated, his voice still cautious, but there was unmistakable surprise in it.
"Demons, sinners, souls who ended up in Hell after death," – she explained. "But you don’t look like demons, which means you…"
"So, you’re saying we’re in Hell right now?" – the captain interrupted her. "Not figuratively or anything like that, but actually in Hell?"
"Warm blood, uncorrupted faces and eyes. Who are you?!" – Charlie asked in shock, ignoring the captain’s question.