H(ot)ell Ascension
Step 2


Written by Septia.


“Hi Ash,” Vaggie said as she walked past the bar. The sinner turned her attention to the bar, the 'X' over her empty socket boring through you, “have you seen Huskar?” 
	With one last wipe the bar counter was clean; cleared of evidence. “Today? Cannot say I have.” 
	Vaggie breathed in, then sighed. “Phee…” she jotted in her notebook. Eye glazing back under the weight of managing the precious few resources they had. “Doesn't surprise me,” she mumbled under her breath. She tapped the paper, brow furrowing. “We're low on towels too,” she grumbled under her breath. 
	“I thought there was plenty.” 
	Vaggie snapped her head back to you. “Before Dust borrowed over a dozen,” her expression plained and lips shrunk to a line, “I didn't bother asking why…” 
	You pondered for a moment, stroking your chin. “Believe I saw a crate of it in the basement.” 
	This made the sinner shudder. “Yeah… along with a thousand other things, gonna be a mess to organize all that.” 
	A smile crept over your face. “Bet it is easier with two pairs of hands, right Vagatha?” 
	She didn't return your smile. Though, she glowered a ‘lil less. 


~ 1 ~


-Kkrttrxt- Ceiling tubes flickered on to coat the basement in an orange, hum buzz. Crates, furniture, carpets and knick-knacks occupied the space: most in untouched stacks, many open. The lack of structure leaving the place a ruin of ambition. Several stacked crates still weren't able to come close to the roof.
	“We might as well get to it, haven't done a proper inventory since I expected we'd be off the ground after a bit.” 
	“We are getting there,” you encouraged. 
	“Yeah,” Vaggie dismissed and hoisted a crate twice her size standing, scanning where to shift it down to in the basement. 
	“Any particular order you are aiming for?” you asked. 
	“High priority in the front, less in the back. If you think we won't use it for the coming month, just chuck it back here.” Vaggie offloaded the crate that slammed into the ground, with a cloud of dust whipping up in its wake. 
	You looked over a box, seeing the tape partially peeled. A claw hooked under the lip to pry it open. It was stuffed to the brim with colorful well-wish cards. “I presume that would include these?” you looked at them more closely, and read aloud, “'fourty days sin-free' congratulation cards?” 
	Vaggie halted. Her expression shrunk. She walked over, picking up a card. She turned it over, again, and again. “Guess so,” she finally muttered. 
	You opened a card. “Charlie certainly is full of hope. It is damn near infectious.”
	“Yeah,” Vaggie said, the edge in her tone dulled, “She's…” The sentence hung in the air. 
	“A light in the darkness?” You tried. 
	Vaggie inhaled, then planted the card back in the box. “She's naïve.” 
	“Down here, that's a feat by itself,” you said. 
	“Ash. You… That's not the point.” 
	“Wish I could be a touch more naïve myself, though the underworld's always there to weight me down. But Charlie, she doesn't deserve this.” You put the card down next to Vaggie's. “She's a fishing bob on this ocean of dregs. Skipping along at the surface of it all. But she needs a sinker, some support, someone who knows the depths, a weight to keep her steady, and not just floating away on the whims of the tides.” 
	Vaggie sideeyed you, surveying you from top to bottom. Then huffed. “You got it backwards; without her I would just sink to the bottom.” 
	“From my view, you are both lucky to have each other.” You sealed up the box, and hoisted it into your arms. “Charlie's got enough hope to share, maybe with all of hell, with the right assistant. Maybe we'll store these just a bit further ahead.” 
	Vaggie's lips twitched in the inklings of a smile. “Sure, no skin off my back.” 


As you sorted through crates and knick-knacks you moved deeper into the basement, carving out pathways through the articles to be able to reach whatever could be needed. Vaggie always seemed to carry two crates where you hefted one. While you carried chairs she shouldered a sofa. When you had your arms full she had her back loaded. The sinner's appearance eluded her capabilities. Which became an added wrinkle in proceedings to consider. 
	“Think I found some towels, though they're kinda stuck.” 
	You looked off to see Vaggie wedging her hands around the gaps between boxes. 
	“Can't quite, get a grip here.” 
	“I will give you a hand, no need to worry.” You move closer, gritting your teeth before bearing your fangs as you crept up behind them. At this point, you couldn’t risk a frontal assault, or lose the best opportunity you had been given thus far. With mouth agape you pounced onto her. 
	“Wait, okay I got it.” Vague tugged, finally getting a grip. She turned with the box in hand, staring into your exposed fangs. 
	-Thhhddwwptht- She rammed the crate into your chest, snuffing our your assault as you stumbled backwards with the breath leaving your chest. 
	“Why don't, you, help me carry them,” Vaggie spat out the words with poison on her lips. She brandished her angel metal harpoon, crouching into a fighting stance. 
	Hell. Her distrust was far from disarmed, even after all that. Though this could be salvaged. “Vaggie I-.” -Thhswwwnngh- The blade of the harpoon spear cleaved a cent from your muzzle in an upwards slice. She carved straight through the crate you instinctive projected forwards, dismantling the plants and erupting its contents to scatter towels in various states of tatter around the basement. 
	“Here I thought there were some guys who weren't complete dirt bags,” she shouted and reeled up for a jab. 
	This could not be salvaged… You dodged backwards, ducking into one of the corridors. “Vaggie, if you put down the spear I can explain.” 
	“Oohoho, I'll put it down,” she called out. 
	You saw a crease of light forge through the crates next to you, leaving you scrambling though the self made labyrinth before Vaggie cut her way past the supplies. 
	“And I'll put you down with it.” 
	This was, very, very bad. One sure hit from that angelic weapon and, lights out… 
	“I thought you cared,” Vaggie said, carving through a crate. “You said Charlie's hope was infectious.”
	She was right upon you, pupils compacted to a fierce dot and the 'X' covering her sockets glowed. She gave a thrust… 
	Straps of red fur shifted into full hue across your coat, drawing on their newfound strength. Looks like their first use would be a full field-test. Wings sprouted from your back, unfurling and clapping down to the ground, launching your form upwards, out the way of Vaggie's pierce.
	Confusion blossomed up through her rage as she ceased the trust just before the speartip would clink against the ground. The sinner peered upwards at your levitating form, staring, at the umber and amber hued feather shroud of your wings. “That's… Husker…?” she mumbled. 
	“I wasn't lying, you know.” 
	This caught her attention. 
	“Charlie has so much hope, It is infectious, inspiring… But you were right. She is so, very naïve… She couldn't put that potential into action if she tried. 'Happy Hotel'? This is hell…” You paused securing a few breaths to process your surroundings. “But, imagine,” you said, tracing a digit along the red markings of your fur, “what that determination and power could do in a vessel more suitable… She's even managed to inspire a lowly hellhound.” 
	“You…” Vaggie grimace, with her lips flexing aside, exposing her clasped teeth. 
	“Besides,” you said, locking into Vaggie's gaze, eye to eye, “you are just weighing her down.” 
	She froze. Twitching. 
	Good… the more frustrated she was, the faster she'd deplete her capacity. And as long as you stayed airborne you could wait for her to tire herself ou-. Wait is that a couscous-. -Thhddwnwtbh- The couch slammed into your torso, anchoring a trajectory toward the ground. 
	“Grnrnaaahahgh,” Vaggie shouted, leaping into the air and stabbing through the padded pillows, barely giving you time to shift back as the fang of the harpoon burrowed past the wood. 
	“Grrhanaagtrh,” she screamed as the two of you tumbled atop the range of crates, skipping back as you saw her tear the spear off the couch – Vaggie's banter reduced to growls and gurgled profanities. 
	The fur on your back stood on end. Panting. These wings were brand new and – seemingly – not built for combat. At least, Vaggie was panting as well, rising up from the couch that had crumpled several boxes beneath it. But she was… smiling. A full, malicious, toothy smile. What was so funny that… you felt on your chest. Fur, standing on end. You peeked down, the buttons of your shirt… gone. Sliced off, your abdomen laid bare. Had, i-it had been t-that close to… Fear. True fear boiled through your veins in that one moment. All the scheming, all your ambition, trudging up from the lower circles… and it would end here…? You looked back up; when had Vaggie closed the distance? A desperate leap, bolting out of the way, running back atop the crates, but she was close behind. The air wasn't safe, the ground wasn't safe, if you left the basement she'd alert everyone, maybe you could rally some sinners out on the street to-. 
	“Gotcha.” 
	The ground gave way beneath you… Looking back, you saw the harpoon wedged in a crate just where your paw had been a moment earlier. And the force from its arch knocked the boxes forwards, toppling, and you fell with them; a cascade of dominoes… 
	Deep breaths… laying on your back on a bed of towels, back to the first blow of the confrontation. Legs wedged awkwardly against the stack of crates, to which Vaggie strode up to, and dislodged her harpoon. 
	“Ash, despite everything, you've taught me two solid lessons… First: I'm a fool for trusting anyone. Second,” she spun her spear to her side, “I'm vetoing any suspicious hires from here on. Got anything to say before I skin you and carve our bartender out of your hide?” 
	“Phah. Ghah…” you grunted, collecting yourself, “Yeah, actually… one thing… You realise how much of Charlie's property you have just wrecked?” 
	Vaggie hesitated. One moment. One single moment where her guard was down. It was all you needed. 
	You dragged your feet down, clutching onto the towels hanging down from the box Vaggie stood atop. She lost her balance, giving you enough time to-. She's falling forwards. Hell. She's falling forwards, not back, but she'll be right on top of you and she still has that blessed harpoon. Why did everything have to go wrong and just this moment. You shut your eyes… 
	-Ghhhctwwllhhllpsh- It stung… the ache pierced through your guts. You had never been wounded by an angelic weapon, few had, even fewer could tell what it felt like. But the wound cut deep, wide, broader than the spear could ever be, expanding through your core like you were pierced with a battering ram rather than a harpoon. It filled up the whole breadth of your abdomen. And the pain, the searing, blinding… pain, wasn't there. Your eyelids flashed down. 
	“Gnnrng, gingham uah, haha, fnfng, get me, out…” Vaggie grumbled. The sinner laid square on your body, her hind squarely down your exposed navel, the skin of which was warped and contorted to the outline of her rear. She was waving her spear to and fro, but the angle leaving her unable to bend in it close enough to strike you. “You, stupid-,” she growled and swung. 
	-Tccht- You caught the pole, and her strength guided it out of her hands, twirling through the air and clattering to the ground. 
	“You-,” she shouted before both of your paws pounded onto her torso -Tbbwtwtnpgh- -Chhrrllrpsthhta- Moisture and matte fur grinding against Vaggie's rear as it crept up her frame, the thrusts forcing her to further double over as she sunk through your navel like a cork -Cththrlrpth-. “Gnngs, that was a dirty trick, you brain dead mutt.” 
	“But it worked,” you mused and increased the pressure, weighing her down along with your arms, wedging between her torso and thighs, before -Chhrrllch- drawing back to leave her legs clamping onto her chest, “Didn't it?” 
	Admitting luck had anything to do with this would only bolster her confidence, and you couldn't let this go. Instead, you watched her struggle, shift and grunt, trying to pry up your bellybutton, but only sinking deeper into the quicksand of your belly button, the dunes of black fur rising around her while her rear ploughed into the passage and plumped up your portly belly. Gradually you felt her folded up frame enveloped, buffering out your stomach as it pigged out on the bouquet of sinner flailing and squirming, sprouted from the midwinter of your torso. 
	“Get your stinky body away from me, you complete bitc-. -Oomph-” 
	-Ghrrlpggsbh- You hoisted your stomach up, feeling the smooth flesh bound up along her hind, back and calves, her knees forcing pressure on her chest to knock the breath out of her lungs. The Squeal of a pork-loin polishing a window rippling through the air as your navel nursed down the sinner. Her face forced up between her legs, arms flailing from their elbows out from the hellhound pit constricting her. 
	-Gbbrlggsh- You felt your stomach swell under her weight, the folded sinner distorting the bounds of your gut, but oh, how satisfying it was to feel every cent of her collapsed frame buried in your onyx abdomen. You kept massaging the sides of your gut, kneading it upwards to jostle the flesh higher, grinding down on Vaggie's frame as it crept ever upward, -Chhrrlptlch- over her shoulders. -Cshllpth- Then up her neck, -Chhrrl-Ptwwlowp- bulges contorted your abdomen, shifting and sailing to and fro on your frame from Vaggie's struggles, but only her head, legs, and hair remained flowing out of the peak of your gut. 
	“Appreciate you taking the direct route to my guts, shows you know your place. But believe me… this will be for the better,” you said, bring your fingers through her hair as the gurgles of your gut chimed in with its gentle tugs on her body. 
	“Ending up as dog dung ain't something you can convince me-.” 
	“Whhoa... hooaammff,” you groaned and pistoned down on her head, -Clltpthsths- sinking it below the surface of your navel -Frrghrllrsh-. 
	“Mfm mmpg smpgwhh.” 
	“Who said anything about something so, vulgar. Oh no… You are staying with me, a part, there is no chance for us demons and sinners. But together, oh together…” you mused, absent-mindedly pushing. -Cllrrhpsht- Vaggie's face and her gleaming eye -Chhrrllspth- swallowed down the chute. 
	“Trust me, together, we can go far… Achieve the impossible, eventually, making hell, truly, better for everyone… And, do not despair, you will see Charlie again… Rather,… We will.” you muse, as more and more of the sinner is reduced to shifting -Chhgbglrlpth- domes along your engorged abdomen. Legs slowly tucked away, and hair drawn towards the center, disappearing, sinking and vanishing like a swirl of spaghetti down an ant-lion's sinkhole… -Crhrrlrlpfhptsh-. 
	“Mfmgwrbg Mgmpwwrmmg.” 
	You cold still hear her, growling, but your gut -Gbbrhrrbgh- growled louder. Swearing, but your stomach cared not. You breathed. Twitching on the ground, the weight of her body pinning you down, and the strain through your adrenaline drained muscles leaving you helpless to resist. Gently, through the churning bounce and wind of his gut -Ghhrlgpghs- -Chglpth- The Struggle faded. -Chrlrlpth- The abdomen contracting, deflating as Vaggie's immortal form was rended down, concentrated, and siphoned through the hellhound's body. You brushed along your gut as domes smoothed and droves chugged with the sound of rattling a jar full of marbles and honey -Chhrlgpgh- -Vhhrgllprghhsh-. The soft broiling spreading up through your spine, crawling into you, absorbing the sinner’s essence and grafting it onto your own. 
	“Gmghahgaaaa,” you clasped over your eyes. They seared, like you had dunked your eyeballs in boing swine-grease. You stifled your cries, rolling over, curling together and howling into your palms. This sheer heat, it brought a vision of hell's crucibles, a memory before memories… You crawled across the ground, Huskar's shroud spreading out behind you in their full wingspan, and his red marks searing into your fur once more. 
	You grappled around in the crates, finding anything to alleviate this surge. You found… a mirror. Everything laid blurry, as if your eyes were really seeing the world through a coating of pig fat. But slowly, gradually, it acclimated… The gray fur around your eyes had deepened to an asphalt black, a permanent eye shadow circling around your brow. The whites of your eyes were tainted, a stark vitrine and orange bleeding through the white, consuming it to a pure yellow. And your pupils… morphing, stretching, growing arms and legs, outwards… forming into X's. 
	You placed a hand at your cheek, drawing down the skin under your eyes. The yellow had permeated through your eyeball. But as the greasy filter subsided, you found a sharpness to your vision, picking out individual specs of dust on the mirror. Your breathing regulated. Back to a soothing pace. You closed your eyes, pinching the eyelids shut. When you opened them, your pupils were rounded once more. Giving it a moment, they bled out into their X shape. 
	“Fascinating…” you mumbled as you gathered yourself enough to stand. And found yourself, thinking back, to Charlie. -Thu-thmmph- Your chest thrummed. Vaggie's thoughts, her Passion, ran through your veins… as did, her memories… So many of them tying right back to the one princess of hell. “Thank you, for your understanding, Vagatha,” you mused. “Seems I really do have eyes for Charlie now…” 


~ 2 ~


Cleaning took its own little while. But the plan had to march forth, opportunity waited for no one, but you were closer than ever to grappling opportunity by its throat, and squeezing every last-. 
	-Kktwwwmgp- The Door leading up from the cellar flung open. Light streamed down that burned a silhouette into your eyes: slim, delicate, precise, with a speaker staff at its side. An unforgettable visage, for those who had laid eyes upon, the radio demon…