We Need Money, Adam! (Hazbin Hotel)

[ZappyBoi]

This whole chapter can be summarize as "Oh No Bro".

Click to shrink...

In a way, it all worked out.

Adam now gets to make money without restraint.

Sera got rid of her source of problems

Emily experienced the pinnacle of Joy.

Only the Exorcists lose cause they don't have Adam ... for now.

Emily should have snuck some of that Blue Heaven into Seras drink.

Click to shrink...

Sera: Ugh ... what happened?

Adam: Thanks for pre-approving the budget for the Death Star Sera!

Huh, at this point I wouldn't be surprised if Charlie offered herself and Adam might accept because well he can get over one against the fuckers that made him like this.

Click to shrink...

She can try to but a certain someone will stop her.

 

[MrSplashy]

Oh yeah, that's true LMAO.

Maybe the hate fuck will get her off her rails... Maybe.

 

[Yeikel]

In a way, it all worked out.

Adam now gets to make money without restraint.

Sera got rid of her source of problems

Emily experienced the pinnacle of Joy.

Only the Exorcists lose cause they don't have Adam ... for now.

Click to shrink...

Let's be honest, just because Adam is in hell doesn't mean Sera won't continue to get problems from him. The way the story is going, Adam and Mammon could buy all of Hell and kick out the people who don't pay.I see Lucifer and the others arriving in Heaven because Adam kicked them out because they didn't have enough money for the rent.

 

[Bulldozer]

Adam and Mammon could buy all of Hell and kick out the people who don't pay.I see Lucifer and the others arriving in Heaven because Adam kicked them out because they didn't have enough money for the rent.

Click to shrink...

Bro that would be the funniest shit ever.

 

[ZappyBoi]

The way the story is going, Adam and Mammon could buy all of Hell and kick out the people who don't pay.I see Lucifer and the others arriving in Heaven because Adam kicked them out because they didn't have enough money for the rent.

Click to shrink...

Bro that would be the funniest shit ever.

Click to shrink...

Charlie: I-is this redemption?

Emily: I guess?

 

[ZappyBoi]

When Adam walked into her office, Sera could already tell something was off. He had that look on his face that told her that what was about to come out of his mouth would no doubt irritate her ... again.

Frankly, she could count on one hand the number of times she ever gleamed any sort of enjoyment from their countless conversations.

"Yo Sera!" He dropped a thick, leather-bound folder onto her desk. "We need to talk about the Exterminations."

Sera looked down at the folder, then back up at him. "Adam, if this is about increasing the budget again, my answer is still no. You don't need the increase."

"Oh that? I'm well over that. Water under the fucking bridge." He waved a hand dismissively and dropped himself into the chair across from her desk. "Instead, I'm here about this."

He pushes the folder closer to Sera, prompting her to inspect its contents. With a heavy sigh, Sera gingerly takes the folder and opens it.

The number at the bottom of the page made her stop breathing for a moment.

It was long. Unconscionably long. She had never even seen a number with so many commas in it.

"Adam ... what is this?"

It wasn't a question. Not really. She could read the words at the top of the page perfectly well.

Invoice for Professional Extermination Services Rendered.

But she needed him to say it out loud, because surely she had misread something.

"It's an invoice!" He leaned back in the chair, the picture of casual ease, one ankle crossing over his knee. "Seven years of 'em, actually. Even consolidated it all for your convenience. You're welcome, by the way. Took Lute like three weeks to compile all that."

Sera set the folder down very carefully. "I gave you a budget, Adam. Each year. For each Extermination. I gave you a clearly outlined—"

"Yeah, yeah, the budget, I know." He twirled a finger in the air. "That covers dental, equipment and all that other crap. But this is about labour fees."

Sera stared at him.

"... Labour fees?"

"Services fee, tax, call it what you want." He continued, as though she hadn't understood, as though the problem was one of comprehension rather than sheer audacity. "Can't believe I missed this out the last seven years. Oh well, better late then never right? So, the girls and I have been doing this for 7 years ... 10 bucks a Sinner ... and your total comes to ... WE'RE FUCKING RICH!"

Sera's eye began twitching and she has never wanted to punt Adam through her window more then this moment. Decorum be damned.

She opened the folder again, against her better judgement. Her eyes travelled down the itemised list.

• Workmanship fee: per Sinner exterminated. (Overlords count as double)
• Labour fee: per Exorcist deployed.
• Hazard pay: breathing in Hell's shitty atmosphere.
• Leadership surcharge: greatest leader ever present
• First Man fee: Using the First Man
• Travel stipend: descent to Hell and back.

She turned a page. There was another page behind it. And another.

"What are these nonsensical charges!?" Sera looked up. "You're charging a travel stipend!?"

"Hell and back, Sera. Literally. Our fees are a small price to pay to protect Heaven." He spread his hands. "Doesn't include tip by the way."

...

Sera never wanted to do this but if Adam wanted to play this game, she could play it too. She closed the folder with a quiet, deliberate snap. Folded her hands on top of it. Took one long, measured breath.

"Very well." She said.

Adam blinked. Whatever he had been expecting ... it was not that.

"... Very well?"

"I will pay your invoice, Adam." She kept her voice perfectly even. "Every last comma of it."

"FUCK YEAH!" A wide grin spread across his face. "You're the fucking best Sera!"

"After!"

The grin faltered. "... After what?"

Sera rose from her chair. She turned to the cabinet behind her desk and from the bottom drawer she produced a folder of her own. If his was thick, hers was architectural. It landed on the desk with a sound like a gavel.

"After YOU settle your outstanding account."

Adam stared at it. He did not reach for it. Some animal instinct, buried deep, was telling him not to.

"My what?"

"Your food bill." Sera opened it herself, turning it to face him. "Itemised, dated, and you're lucky we don't charge interest."

The first page was dated from when he had first entered Heaven. The number at the bottom of that page alone was already giving him pause.

"Woah woah woah! Hold the fuck on! You can't charge me for my food! I'm a Winner, just like the other Winners in Heaven!" Adam staunchly defended himself. "I was promised that most things would be free, food fucking included."

"I seem to recall, and I quote, 'I'm the First Fucking Man turned Winner turned Archangel!'. And as an Archangel, you are required to adhere to a different standard of accounting than the average Winner." Sera turned another page with two fingers, the way one might handle something faintly unpleasant. "You lobbied, quite aggressively, for that promotion, Adam. The title comes with its privileges. It also comes with its ledgers."

Adam's jaw worked. "T-that's not ... uhhh."

Adam shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"The numbers," Sera said, folding her hands over the open page, "as you will see when you get to the summary, exceed yours. Considerably."

There was a long silence.

Adam leaned forward slowly, as though approaching something that might bite, and turned to the summary page.

He stared at it.

The number had more commas than his did. Significantly more.

"You kept records?" His voice had lost, for perhaps the first time in recorded history, its signature bluster. "You kept records of every rib I ever fucking ate!"

"Heaven keeps records of everything, Adam." Sera closed the folder with the same measured snap she had used on his. "That is the entire point."

He looked back at his. The number he had been so proud of, that he'd had Lute spend three weeks compiling, the number he had waltzed in here ready to collect on, now seemed to be making itself small. Trying not to be noticed next to hers.

"Something wrong Adam?" It was now Sera's turn to grin smugly at him. "Can the First Man not even take care of his own food bill?"

"... I can pay it." He said.

Sera blinked.

"... I beg your pardon?"

"I said I can pay it!" He leaned back, and by some miracle of sheer stubbornness, the grin found its way back onto his face, though it sat there a little unevenly. "The whole thing. No problem."

In all the time she had known Adam, she had watched him lie about pretty much everything under the Sun. You could say she is an expert when it comes to telling when he does lie. The way it was always loudest when it was least true.

"Is that so." She said. Not a question.

"That is very much so." He challenged, matching her tone with the confidence of a man who had never once in his existence been embarrassed enough to learn from the experience. "You'll have it. Every comma. Easy!"

"How wonderful." Sera straightened up. She reached across the desk, took his invoice, and placed it neatly on top of her folder, squaring the edges with two precise taps. "Then until your account is settled, I will consider our ledgers open. Your invoice will be paid in full the moment mine is."

"Sure. Fine. Great. Mutual. Love it." He said. "Just need some time."

There was another silence.

"There is, however," Sera continued, "the small matter of operational continuity."

Adam's eye twitched. "The what of the what?"

"Until your balance is cleared, the Exorcist's budget will be redirected to service the gap between what is owed and what is available. Think of it as collateral."

"... Run that by me again."

"The Exorcists' operational budget," Sera said, with tremendous patience, "will be used to cover your outstanding amount until the debt is resolved. It's your division, Adam. It seemed only appropriate that the resource come from you."

The silence this time was different. It had texture to it.

"You're taking my fucking budget!?"

"I'm redirecting it toward a debt that you, moments ago, assured me was no problem whatsoever. You said it was easy." She smiled pleasantly. "Surely it won't be redirected long. I expect FULL payment before the next Extermination."

Adam stood up. He pointed at her. He appeared to be trying to locate a sentence and failing.

"Y-yeah. No problem. I'll have it paid before the next Extermination." Adam assured. "First Man promise."

Not wanting to risk making that already precarious position any worse, Adam snatched his invoice off the top of her folder, spun on his heel, and walked out.

The door closed behind him with a click that was somehow more damning for how quiet it was.

---

Lute was exactly where he'd left her, standing at parade rest beside the door, spine straight, expression neutral. She tracked him as he emerged. Read him in the half-second it took him to clear the threshold. The set of his jaw. The folder crumpled slightly in his grip. The way his walk had that extra half-inch of swagger that only appeared when he was trying to convince his own body that everything was fine.

"Sir." She fell into step beside him. "How did your foolproof plan go?"

Adam said nothing for four full paces. Then he stopped.

Lute stopped.

He turned to face her. He placed both hands on her shoulders. He looked her directly in the eyes with the focused intensity of a man delivering news that has not yet fully landed on him either.

"WE NEED MONEY, LUTE!"

"... How much money, Sir?"

"A lot of it."

"How much is a lot."

Adam's grip on her shoulders tightened fractionally. "You know that number you spent three weeks putting together?"

"Yes."

"Imagine a number," he said, "that laughs at that number."

Lute was quiet for a moment. "She had a counter-invoice."

"That fucking bitch had a COUNTER INVOICE!" He released her shoulders and resumed walking, faster now, as though the hallway itself were something to be conquered. "If Sera thinks she has me dead to right, she's got another thing coming. I've been in worse situations before."

"You have?" Lute asked.

"... well, no." Adam admitted. "But if I had, I would've gotten out of it."

She kept pace beside him. "What's our timeline?"

"Before the next Extermination."

"That's six months, Sir."

"See? Plenty of time."

"That number," Lute said carefully, "is not a number that six months fixes."

"It's fine."

"It's not fine."

"Lute."

"Sir."

"It's going to be fine." He said it the way he said most things that were demonstrably untrue. "We just need a plan."

...

"AND I HAVE A FOOLPROOF PLAN! We're going to fight bitch with bitch!"

---

Hasn't Adam humiliated her enough already? Why was he calling her back to the embassy? What more could he possibly want?

Charlie pondered over these questions as she made her way to Heaven's embassy. After getting her idea of redemption utterly rejected by Adam, after sitting through that smug little song-and-dance routine, after being laughed out of the room, she had exactly zero desire to stand in the same zip code as the First Man ever again.

And yet.

Here she was.

Maybe it was that small dim hope in her that Adam miraculously changed his mind.

She smoothed her blazer. Lifted her chin. She was a princess of Hell. She had faced worse than Adam ... in her dreams.

Entering the same room she was laughed out of, Charlie found Adam and Lute and a strong sense of Deja Vu washed over her.

"Hey! There she fucking is!" Adam greeted, with the energy of a car salesman who had already decided you were buying something. "Glad you could make it ... uhhh."

...

"Lute, what's the bitch's name again?" Adam whispered.

"Hellspawn, Sir." Lute replied through gritted teeth, not trying very hard to hide her contempt for the Demon Princess.

"Seriously Lute, her name." Adam said.

Lute's jaw tightened. "Charlie, Sir."

"Charlie! Right, right." He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "Charlie Moneybags. I-I mean, Morningstar. The redemption chick."

Charlie stared at him. "I have a name."

"And I just used it, so we're good." He gestured broadly to the chair across from him. "Sit down. We've got a business proposition for you."

Charlie remained standing. Unlike last time, she was far more weary of the First Man and his lieutenant.

"What could I possibly want from you?"

"I'm glad you asked. For you see, I did some soul searching—"

"You?" Charlie said.

"Figuratively." He clarified. "And I realised something. Something big. Something that I think even you, in your little ... hotel ... are going to appreciate."

He reached under the table and produced a box before opening it. Inside, nestled in a row of silk divots, were rings of various colors.

"Redemption Rings!" Adam announced, with the cadence of a man unveiling the invention of the wheel.

"Patent pending. One per Sinner. You slip it on, and bam!" He snapped his fingers. "It tells you exactly how close to redemption they are. Real time. No guesswork."

The moment she heard that, Charlie could envision it so clearly it almost hurt.

Alastor with a ring. Angel Dust with a ring. Husk, Niffty, Sir Pentious, everyone at the hotel with a ring. No more uncertainty, no more wondering if what she was doing was working, no more lying awake at 3am trying to convince herself that the small moments meant something. She would know. She would have PROOF!

Her brain, operating on pure serotonin and absolutely no critical thinking, made the executive decision in approximately half a second and just like that, all weariness she had earlier was thrown to the wind.

"I'LL TAKE YOUR ENTIRE STOCK!" Charlie slammed a credit card down on the table with a crack that made even Lute's eye twitch.

Adam stared at the card.

Then he stared at Charlie.

Then he picked the card up and held it at arm's length like he was reading fine print. His eyebrows climbed slowly up his forehead.

"Kid?" He said.

"Take it." Charlie said.

"You didn't even ask how much they—"

"Take it." She said again, and her eyes had gone a little glassy with the specific shine of someone who has already fully committed to a vision and is not currently accepting outside input. "There is no price too high for my people."

Adam looked at Lute.

Lute looked back at him with an expression that said, plainly, that this was going better than expected and that she was also slightly unsettled by it.

"Okay then." Adam shrugged, and swiped the card with a grin.

And Sera thought he couldn't pay his debts.

Stupid Sera.

---

"Guess what I just bought from Adam!?" Charlie beamed, setting the box down on the lobby table with a decisive thud in front of everyone.

"Redemption Rings!" She announced, throwing the lid open with the energy of someone unveiling a birthday cake. "One per person, you put it on, and it shows you exactly how far along you are! Isn't that amazing?"

"You bought something from Adam." Vaggie voice had the particular flatness of someone who needed to hear it out loud one more time before she could begin processing it. "That Adam!"

"He came through for me this time!"

"Charlie—"

"Vaggie, look at them. Look at how official they are." Charlie held one up. It caught the light. "This is a sign that Adam and Heaven as a whole are finally seeing that Exterminations isn't the way!"

Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose. "How much did you spend."

"I don't really know."

"Charlie."

"The important thing is that we have them!"

"But about the six months timeline? Did he at least—"

"Anyway!" Charlie pivoted. "Who wants to try one first?"

"What do they do again?" Angel asked.

"They show your progress toward redemption! In real time!" Charlie was already sorting through the box, selecting rings by some internal logic that was entirely her own. "There's no more guessing, no more wondering if anything we're doing is working!"

"No more trust falls?"

"Who knows! This ring will tell us all!" Charlie plucked one from the box and before Angel could so much as lean back in his chair, she'd grabbed his hand and slid it onto his finger.

The ring pulsed once. Soft gold light bled through the band, circled it twice, and settled.

69%

"Heh, nice." Angel remarked as the number appeared.

"NICE!?" Charlie's voice cracked in three places. "Angel, that's sixty-nine percent! That's way more then nice! That's more than halfway! You practically have one foot in Heaven already!"

"Charlie, I'm serious! How much did you spend on those rings?" Vaggie sternly asked, trying to bring her girlfriend back down from fantasyland.

"Relax Vaggie. I used my Dad's credit card to pay for it."

"... YOU USED LUCIFER'S CREDIT CARD!?"

---

Down in Pentagram City, in a castle that was far too large for one person and decorated with an unconscionable number of rubber ducks, Lucifer Morningstar was having what he would describe as a very meaningful evening.

He was on his third documentary.

It had started innocently enough. A nature series. Something soothing to put on in the background while he worked on a new hat design. But then the first one had ended, and the streaming service had rolled straight into a segment about declining duck populations and habitat loss, and that had been, more or less, the end of Lucifer's productivity for the evening.

He was now horizontal on his couch. There was an empty bowl of popcorn on his chest. He had not moved it. He had not moved at all in some time.

"and without continued financial support," the narrator said, in that specific documentary voice calibrated to extract maximum emotion from the human chest cavity, "these wetlands, and the creatures that depend on them, may simply cease to exist."

On screen, a duck paddled alone across a shrinking patch of water.

Lucifer's lower lip wobbled.

He sat up. Popcorn bowl hit the floor. He did not notice.

He was already reaching for his phone.

His hands were not entirely steady. This was fine. This was a righteous unsteadiness. This was the unsteadiness of a man who cared.

He dialed the number on the screen and soon, someone answered his call.

"I want to help," Lucifer said. His voice cracked only slightly. "The ducks. I saw the documentary. I need you to know that I understand, on a very personal level, what is at stake here, and I want to do something about it."

...

"Yes, I'll use my credit card." He was already pulling it out. "And I'd like to make it a recurring donation. Monthly. Actually, can I do weekly? I'd like to do weekly."

Lucifer waited for the other end to respond. On the television, the duck was still paddling. He made a silent, personal promise to it.

...

"What?"

...

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY CARD WAS DECLINED!?"

---

"Can you believe that bitch actually fell for it Lute!?" Adam threw himself into his chair with the gleeful energy of a man who had just witnessed something that would sustain him for years. "Didn't even blink! Didn't even ask how they worked! We should scam Hell more often!"

"I noticed, Sir." Lute stood at the edge of his desk, arms folded behind her back.

"I mean I had a whole pitch ready. I practiced it and everything. The ring, the light, the snap." He snapped his fingers in demonstration. "Had a whole thing. Didn't even need it. She saw the box and just," He mimed a credit card slam with both hands. "BOOM. Now I can pay Sera back and still have leftover!"

"Those rings ... they don't actually work, right?"

"Correct." Adam said, not even looking up from where he was idly spinning one of the leftover rings on his finger like a top.

Lute stared at him. "They display a random percentage."

"Every time you check it." He caught the ring. "Could be twenty. Could be ninety-four. Completely meaningless."

"And what happens when she discovers it doesn't work?"

"Let me introduce you to a perfectly legal trap." Adam leaned back.

"NO FUCKING REFUNDS!"

---

"ANGEL! WHAT DID YOU DO!?" Charlie screamed when she inspected Angel's ring the next day.

50%

Charlie's shriek bounced off every wall in the lobby.

Angel Dust looked up from his glass of water with panic.

"What?" He looked at the ring. Then at Charlie. Then back at the ring. "I'm just sitting here."

"It was sixty-nine percent yesterday!" Charlie seized his hand, tilting it toward the light as though a different angle might produce a different number. "How does it go down? What did you do?"

"Nothing! I've been sitting here drinking water."

Charlie stared at the glass.

It was just water. Clear, still, entirely normal water in a plain glass.

Her eyes moved back to the ring.

Then to the glass.

Then to the ring.

A very specific kind of logic, the kind that lives two floors below reason and three doors down from panic, began assembling itself in her brain.

She snatched the glass out of his hand and hurled it against the far wall. It shattered magnificently.

"Hey!" Angel complained.

"What the fuck, Charlie!?" Vaggie was on her feet before the glass had even finished falling, staring at the wet streak running down the wall and the scattered shards glittering across the floor. "It was just a glass of water!"

"Angel." Charlie turned back to him. Her voice had gone very calm. The specific calm of someone who has moved past panic and arrived somewhere more focused and considerably more dangerous. "I need you to listen to me very carefully."

Angel Dust stared at her. Then at the wall. Then back at her. "I'm listening."

"You cannot drink water anymore."

"... What?"

"Water. No more."

"THAT'S INSANE!" Angel loudly replied. "Charlie, you've gone nuts!"

"It went down nineteen percent!"

"It was water!"

"It must be something to do with the water ... or the glass!"

Charlie pointed at Angel's ring with both hands. "Sixty-nine to fifty. In one night. While he claims to have done nothing."

"I did do nothing!"

"The ring says otherwise." Charlie muttered before marching off back to her room. "I need to record this down. I need to know EVERYTHING that could be a detriment to everyone's redemption!"

---

Vaggie had never once puked ever since she arrived in Hell. But tonight's meal was doing its very best to change that.

The dining table, which under normal circumstances served as a perfectly reasonable place to eat a perfectly reasonable meal, currently featured a perfectly unreasonable centerpiece.

A whole deer. Laid out on a wooden board, head intact, antlers and all, garnished with sprigs of what Vaggie could only assume was rosemary, because apparently whoever had arranged this had felt that presentation mattered.

"Charlie." Vaggie sat very still, hands folded in her lap, eyes fixed on a spot approximately six inches above the deer's left antler. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course!" Charlie beamed from the head of the table.

"WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A DEER ON THE TABLE!?"

"Because I want all of you to eat it." Charlie stated as if it was the most normal thing ever. "You see this!"

Charlie grabbed Alastor's hand and thrust his ring toward the table like a prosecutor presenting Exhibit A.

"You see this!"

88%.

"Alastor is at eighty-eight percent!" Charlie announced, with the energy of someone revealing a murder suspect at a dinner party, which, given the centerpiece, was not entirely inaccurate. "Eighty-eight! That is extraordinary! That is almost Heaven!"

"That is fucking bullshit! You expect me to believe that asshole of all people is somehow more worthy of Heaven than Angel!?" Husk's voice carried the very specific offence of a man who had spent decades cataloguing injustices and had just found a new entry for the top of the list.

"The ring doesn't lie, Husk." Charlie gestured at it again, as though repetition might help. "After all, you are what you eat. So for today, I want us all to follow Alastor's eating habits."

Alastor, for his part, had been sitting with his hands folded and his smile fixed in place since the deer had been brought out, wearing the expression of a man at an art gallery who has just found a piece that genuinely interests him.

"I must say, Charlie." He said pleasantly. "I appreciate the thought and would very much like EVERYONE to have a bite."

"You heard him everyone. Dig in!"

"Nope! Fuck this! I'm out!" Angel chair scraped against the floor as he shoved back from the table with the energy of a man who had sat through exactly one second more than he was willing to tolerate. He was on his feet before the sound had even finished.

Husk followed without a word. He simply stood up, picked up his drink, and left. The drink was coming with him regardless of where he went. That had never been in question.

Vaggie lasted approximately three more seconds, during which she performed a visible internal calculation that ended, decisively, in her standing up. "Charlie, I love you," she said, "and I am not doing this."

Sir Pentious had been quietly attempting to excuse himself since the deer had first made its entrance and had only been delayed by the fact that his Egg Boiz had frozen in place out of sheer social confusion. He collected them now with a sweeping gesture, muttered something about a prior engagement that had clearly not existed five minutes ago, and retreated with as much dignity as a man shaped like a cobra could manage.

The door swung shut.

The dining room, which had been full thirty seconds ago, now contained exactly three occupants.

Charlie, standing at the head of the table, ring evidence still extended, looking like a prosecuting attorney whose entire jury had just walked out.

"Everyone, come back!" Charlie yelled as she chased after them. "Be open-minded!"

Niffty, who had produced a small notebook from somewhere and appeared to be sketching the deer from multiple angles, fully absorbed, occasionally tilting her head to get a better view of the antlers.

And Alastor, still seated. Still smiling. Hands still folded. He reached forward, unhurried, picked up his fork, and regarded the spread before him with the quiet satisfaction of a man who had gotten exactly what he wanted out of the evening, which was, in all likelihood, this.

"Philistines." He said it pleasantly, the way one might comment on the weather.

He began to eat.

 

[Delta/Soul]

1. Thanks for the chapter!
2. That's so Adam!
3. …God damn it, Charlie.