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hungryflowers · 2 years

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Title: Let It Take You Right Down to Your Knees

Rating: Mature

Fandom/Continuity: Hazbin Hotel

Character(s): Husk, Original Character, Some Angels

Author's Note(s): The character known as Belvedere is a character of mine in a kind of series I'm thinking up. He's the son of Husk and Alastor as a form of a placating deal between the dealmaker and gambler. He doesn't biologically conceive the kitten, no. The young cat is created from the consummations of dark magic and Husk's Manna he manifests to keep himself in control of another form. That form is cultivated when Husk steals a potion given to Alastor by Papa Legba.

Warning(s): Some Horror, Character Death, Violence and Murder, Mass Genocide and Some strong language.

Fight had drained from his being so long ago...

High standing wings; now battered, fallen and dragged disgracefully through the thick mud and sliver-grey soot as it fell heavily on the ashen cat sinner's body. He could only see grey; the sight so unfamiliar and more terrifying than the hue of blood red that was always hanging above. The clumps of ash stuck to the crimson soaked fur like a layer of sticky molasses, slowing down his every move.

His white claws were completely stained in the remnants of the prior battle he had to fight. His grimy, yellow teeth showed in the grimacing growl that had pulled his lips apart as he choked on his pain. Such a pain wavered his movements but not the lack thereof his soul. High headed ears spring up as the sounds of death and desolation begin to make their presence known from above.

They were angels of course but they were the furthest from the shitty christian fairytales his highly religious parent would shove down his throat. They would tell him how 'God's Angel's' were the most beautiful, kindly and... well, angelic. They could never do the world wrong in the grand scheme to keep all sinners at bay. Boy, he wonders how his shit living, floozy hunting, craps playing life had warranted this.

The angel's are not beautified beings of holy blessed light, in fact none of them hardly glowed in the contrast of the harsh glow of the blood red sky. They were mostly featherless, biped beings with a permanently etched smile on the helmets, or head if that's what they were. They never came with peaceful tidings in turn, never gave them so much as a chance to sigh before the showering of heavenly blades would take out the first hundred stupefied by the mesmeric beauties. But they were not beautiful... Nor kind. And not angelic by any means. They are more the monsters than the sinners transformed as they plummeted here. Less mortal, less empathetic, less mercy. That was this 'angel'.

Husk hid behind the large lidded dumpster, shaggy head pulling up to reveal the long gashes and scratches all over his head and face. The distinguished marking being on his forehead and atop the hearts on his brow. A hiss rattled from the heaving, burning lungs as he dragged his legs underneath him. He hears more agony and suffering before it is ended by the swift sound of hypocritical justice. He wouldn't know anything about the poor bastard who didn't get away, too concerned with protecting his own hide, but it was a waste. The cat could have at least eaten him. He's shocked still when the thud of legs striking ground is too close for comfort. Husk can tell it will spot him soon. The only chance he has is to attack.

The angel comes across him but doesn't get to deal the final blow. It never hears the demon as the teeth sink deep into the melded armor. It singes the sinner painfully yet the promise of blood, whatever kind, is underneath. A sound bellows from the angel as Husk rips out the shoulder, casting an inky substance everywhere. It decorates the cat's face as he goes for another bite. The angel's wings slam and flap but cannot muscle the demon away. It slows considerably before Husk goes for its neck; the spot shockingly unprotected, as his fangs make quick work of the 'flesh'. He tears ruthlessly as the angel drops to its knees, the smile etched on its face even more sinister since it doesn't change. Husk's claws go into its exposed eye, effectively gouging from the face. More liquid spills and the enemy finally falls to twitch and spasm as the rigor mortis takes hold quickly.

He has less time to come back from the bloodlust when more angels converge on his area. His useless wings stuff closer to his back as he finds his energy to get away. He cannot stand fully so he uses his quadruped stance and bolts down a couple of alleys. Two more angels slam down on the sticky, tack-like ground. Glowing weapons shone above the cat sinner, thrusting in his direction. One goes in the ground while the other is trapped in a nearby wall. The angel is busy trying to get the lodged weapon from the brick when Husk jumps and sinks his fangs into the armor. It comes apart with ease to expose the frail neckline of the angel. The other angel is much quicker and lunges its spear, the weapon almost untraceable. Though with Husk, and his eyes, nothing was considered untraceable. In the moment it takes to blink, Husk drags the angel to use it as a form of meat shield; one angel stabbing the other ruthlessly.

In reactivity, the wounded punctured angel stabs the other as well, both of them beginning to ooze whatever the fuck their blood is. One spear goes into an angel's eye, the other going through the chest, both ending the tussle by dropping dead. Husk pulls himself free of the bodies, his form laying out to see the grisly mess in front of him. Wide, twilight colored eyes are trained on the beings, his ears wilting back for a moment as the 'heavenly light' fades away.

The big bell chimes at midnight; or what he could have suspected as the next day, and the remaining angels look towards a bevy of slowly swirling clouds. They appear grey in the contrasting black and red sky yet unmistakably it is the portal to heaven. The big, forsaken bastard is calling his soldiers back. And they follow in line, leaving their dead and captured under the influence of hell, behind.

Husk doesn't see it as a victory. There is no winning or losing when Hell and Heaven wage a war against each other. He sees it as a sort of game... A deadly, treacherous game where they are never any losers or winners. But the price is familiar and fatal. It could be one for him however. After all, he is one of the few in this district in hell to survive an extermination. 'Another one down'. He huffs, whole body fighting exhaustion as he pushes through the slumped and butchered bodies of those unlucky to be out. And there were so many out in this district tonight.

He stumbles forward, a headache starting to develop, his limbs now fighting for the reason to not continue on. His eyes become foggy as he shakes the required need for rest and repose out of his war weary brain. The sludge like goop of the angel's 'blood' stings on the cat sinner's tongue, the taste of it unbearably close to tar or coal. His mouth is covered with it, stains of black all over his whitened face. His claw tips carry remnants as well as other mixtures of blood on them. They are stained yet can be cleaned. The clock chimes again and he looks up to see the portal fading from view; this year's extermination officially over and new turf to welcome fresh sinners. Or give others new real estate. It felt like advertising free housing after a plague. And it made Husk's stomach curdle.

Husk continues to the open, body infested streets... and picks out a familiar body among the dead. Husk wades through the corpses and can see it with dismay. He knew this young cat demon. He was born here, along with his brother. The young male cat demon has the exact marking of Husk, but shows to not having the same wing patterns; the suits only carrying the spade and diamonds. The cat's face has dark grey points on the chin and near the eyes but everything else seemed to be the same. Even down to the long feathered tail. When Husk looked into the soul evacuated eyes of the cat demon, he couldn't hold back his despair.

"B-B...Belvedere... Oh god!" Husk laments pressing his head into his kitten's dead and long cold body. He lay atop the body, silently sobbing and hugging the form tightly. He lays until forms of life start to materialize from the rubble of the attacks, the sinners who survived more savage than before. Husk cannot stew over his older kit's death, him being too vulnerable to do so. He presses his lips onto the body's forehead, a purr emitting from him before he has to turn away.

With each step he takes, a sinkhole forms beneath him. Another step and it nearly drags him down. His lungs begin to burn from the exertion and the task of holding him together until he gets to where no one can spot him. Much like in his awake life on earth, weakness is a sure way to be taken out. The structure of this life makes it so you cannot let yourself be unguarded. He cannot let them see the facade shatter. He has to make it out. But that hole beneath him gets deeper the further he runs form his kit.

Another year more of this. Another year where he has to survive on his wits, and gambles to see his way through this unfortunate slide in his afterlife. There should be some joy out of it, yet all he can do is feel his tears bubbling up to the surface as he hurries to the less congested, even safe, place around Pentagram. He is so quick and light on his large paws as the city light begin to dwindle finally far enough away for the solace he couldn't find in the City. Husk leaps high into the tree canopy, hugs himself into the thick bark and begins to sob. He sobs with an intensity that it makes him salivate and blubber. His wings close around him forming a shield to keep him from being seen when passersby come through. They hug him tightly, a feeling the cat sinner only experience when holding onto his child.

With the extermination over, old and new sinners will have to pick up the pieces of their lives but Husk is unsure of how to do that. He cannot fathom another reason to go on in this actual Hell. So all he does as the clock tower chimes for the last time... is just cry.

#hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel #prequel work #sad themes

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