Charlie’s shoes squeak on the scarlet-tiled lobby as she stumbles backward, arms outstretched in a grand, if wobbly, gesture.
“Welcome to a new chapter for Hell!”
she declares, her voice only a little too high-pitched as Angel Dust lounges on the reception counter, flicking a long leg. Vaggie stands rigid beside her, arms crossed, scanning for threats in every shadow. From the bar, Husk grunts and slides a glass down the counter, ignoring Alastor’s humming as the Overlord glides in, all grins and static. The hotel’s cracked chandelier flickers, throwing wild shadows across peeling wallpaper. Angel Dust snorts,
“Do I get room service, or just the privilege of being your charity case?”
The front door slams behind another passerby jeering through the glass. Charlie’s heart hammers. She straightens her tie, hoping the tremble in her voice doesn’t show.
“No one’s a lost cause, not even us.”
The city’s distant sirens rise, and every eye in the lobby turns to her. The grand experiment begins.