My Red-Tinted Reflection (Hazbin Hotel) (Discontinued)

Chapter 3 - Your Hands

10 months since initial arrival time
6:04 pm

Things in Hell had been progressing quite rapidly.

People started to notice that you looked just like The Radio Demon, and most were able to distinguish the difference between you and him. Most still jumped every time they saw you, never knowing fully until they saw your smile.

You didn't grin like him, because you weren't insane. You didn't enjoy killing people, and their fear certainly didn't get you off.

You hadn't forgotten about your encounter with The Radio Demon, however. It still burned brightly in your mind.
You hadn't witnessed any major killings since, surprisingly. It was weirdly disappointing, but by now things had settled in. You'd found a stable job as a bartender, and made a temporary home in the Road-Kill Motel.
It wasn't as bad as it sounded, honestly.

Throwing on a pair of clean clothes and walking out the door, you bid a farewell to the register demon.
You decided to show up to work a bit early, maybe make a bit of extra money. You needed every cent, and it couldn't hurt to do a little extra work.

...

The Rusty Spoon was crowded, as always. Even at 6 in the morning, people were still down to get wasted.
Throwing on the shirt that let people know you worked there, you adjusted the name tag and made sure to broadcast that you weren't The Radio Demon, and, in fact, we're (Y/N) (L/N), who was not in the business of killing people by the millions. Or killing people at all, really.

"What would you like?" You said, voice monotonous and bored. You thought it best to skip into a moody-teenager persona, so as not to alarm anyone.

Not that your work personality was frightening, in fact, it looked quite like The Radio Demons himself, involving a lot of smiles and many 'hi! Welcome to the Rusty Spoon, my name is (Y/N), and I'll be serving you! What would you like to have?'s.

Turns out, that attitude really pissed people off.

The Lizard demon ordered an apple martini, one of your most popular drinks.
After he was served, he began to talk with you...intimately.

Leaning forward, caressing your arm, winking seductively...you were getting some weird vibes from the demon so you politely asked him to go fuck off. Cringing, you brushed his hand off your own.

"Oh come on, baby, we could really hit it off tonight!" He wiggled his eyes brows and advanced over the counter.
"Everyone knows you look like The Radio Demon, but really, I'm sure your just a scared little kitten. Lost in Hell," his breath stunk like whiskey and apple-martinis as he got up in your face.
Sighing, you pushed him away and asked security to take the creep outside.

Once you were done dealing with that douchebag, you decided to take your break.
Heading outside you lit a cigarette and leaned up against the side of the brick building, running a thin hand through your hair, detangling the small knots.

Every time your mind was left to its own devices, the surge of power made itself more known to you. Inspecting the hand that didn't hold your cigarette, you fiddled with the pointy fingertips.

When am I going to figure out what this is?

It was then you heard the wind pick up, howling in your ear. Wincing, you frowned and put out the cigarette butt on the wall, creeping around the alleyway. Hell was relatively quiet today, despite the wind threatening to sweep you off your feet. You inhaled sharply and looked worriedly at the sky; this was always a bad omen. If those even existed in Hell.