🕸𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍🕸 | Hazbin Hotel OC

Chapter 3 | Tajín

Flying around with a big, chunky laptop tired Leeroy out a lot faster than he had expected it to. He dropped lower to the ground and wandered into a shady neighborhood that looked even worse than the rest of Hell. Buildings had windows smashed in, blood painted the walls and streets, signs hung, broken and bent, and no sign of life could be spotted anywhere.

Leeroy approached an apartment which's door barely hung on a single hinge. Corpses piled outside, decorated with the terrifying sight of spears sticking out from all directions. He lightly kicked the bodies away from the door, apologizing under his breath as he did so, and finally walked into the apartment.

As bad as it looked outside, the inside of the apartment was even worse. Furniture lay on its side, broken glass, plates, and cups littered the kitchen floor, and the fridge hung open, its flickering bulb offering the only light in that darkened corner. Leeroy brushed some debris from off the counter and set his laptop down. While he got to work hauling the furniture to make it more livable, small movement from behind him caught his attention.

"I can see you," Leeroy said, flipping the couch right-side-up. The figure drew closer to Leeroy, revealing it was carrying a gun, though whoever it was, was visibly shaking. Leeroy slowly turned around and moved all four hands up into the air. "Careful with that, you could really hurt someone."

"Who are you?" the figure demanded. "Are you working for the Cabrones? You look like a little pulgita that would be working for Las Ratas."

Leeroy squinted. This person was a mouse.
"What did you just call me? I'm not working for anybody," Leeroy rebutted.

The mouse began shaking even more intensely than he had before. They moved their finger away from the trigger. "Well... if you aren't working for the Cabrones... what the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm just here to tidy the place up. It's a lovely apartment you have here, such a shame an... earthquake? came through," Leeroy said, grabbing a broken photo frame from the side table with his bottom hand. The mouse was not in the picture.

"You really are new around here, aren't you?" The mouse lowered the gun and stopped shaking. "The angels are the ones that did this."

"Angels?" Though he wasn't particularly religious, Leeroy always imagined angels to be bringers of good. Like Aziraphale from the book Good Omens.

"It's not important, they've all left now... which means that the Cabrones will be here any moment to claim this area as their own," the mouse informed, sticking his gun back into his pocket. "They're monsters, all of them. Just like everybody else in this shit-hole. They see tragedy as a means for profit and power."

Leeroy put his hands down and started towards the kitchen as the mouse continued about the apparent gang wars in Hell. It really was like prison. He found the pantry and opened it up, noting that the angels clearly had no interest in raiding the place for food. Leeroy picked up a broom and swept up the glass and broken dishes.

"... and that's why I'm hiding here. To get away from my dad, or at least jump the gun when he decides to show his disgraceful face."

"It sounds to me like your dad is a real scumbag, um, what did you say your name was again?" Leeroy asked, scooping the remaining debris into a largely unbroken plate and dumping it outside a broken window.

"It's Tajin," the mouse reported. "Sorry again for trying to shoot you earlier."

"Don't worry about it!" Leeroy smiled at Tajin. "My name is Leeroy, though my friends call me Roy, or Lee, or Eyes. You seem nice! And don't even worry about when your papa shows up, I've got a plan."

"Eyes is an interesting name... I guess you got that while you were still a human, right?" Tajin assumed.

Leeroy nodded and smiled. "They called me that while I was in prison, because... actually, it's not that important. How long have you been down here?"

"About 20 years... I think. What year was it when you died?"

"You must be a pro at Hell, then! It was 2013 when I died," Leeroy said, brushing some dust off the couch, taking a seat, and patting it for Tajin to take a seat next to him. Tajin did so, though he sat as far away as possible.

"I died in 1997... wow... it's been forever."

"How old are you, by the way?" Leeroy couldn't help himself from asking, after all, Tajin was nearly a foot and a half shorter than he was. Could children end up here? Though, his clothing suggested he was older than, say, a toddler. He wore an open blue denim jacket with no shirt underneath, showing off his brown, fluffy chest. Golden buttons added to the jacket, the color matching the belt that held up his maroon trousers. The pants cut off just before his ankles, but it was hardly noticeable as we wore white high-heeled boots. His wide eyes looked almost human, with white as the outside color and deep, brown irises. Only his pupils gave away his demonic nature, being a fierce golden color. Dark brown, spiked hair sat atop his hair between his pinkish ears and wrapped around his head, protruding from his cheeks. It was like a mutton-chops beard, only it actually looked good.

Tajin fidgeted a bit in his seat. It seemed like he was about to say something when gunshots rang out from outside. A man with a gravelly voice growled before laughing.

"This neighborhood is ours for the taking, hijo de putos."