***Thirteen Years Ago***

Propaganda was a common thing to be exposed to in Hell. If you were to ask her nine rings' most loyal and patriotic demons what their goal was, it was simple: Defeat God. Or, if you wanted to be more specific: Defeat a tyrant manipulating everyone to his own desires to worship him by obeying his rules or suffering them. To embrace sin was to embrace true freedom. Hell was the true paradise away from the so-called "order" that had condemned demons to their fate because they refused to get on their knees to worship the God of Heaven. It was in Hell where you could be whatever you wanted, do whatever you wanted, and take whatever path you wanted without consequences.

Spend five minutes in Hell with a clear mind and observation, and you'll learn it was all bullshit.

There was no "freedom" in Hell. Not in the sense that the propaganda department was always going on about. The rich and powerful ruled Hell, and everyone else served them or fought each other for the scraps. Heaven was still more powerful than Hell because of its infinite resources, the mighty armies, the unity it had, and the fact that Hell still had to agree to rules from Heaven, such as the Exterminations, which was proof of who really held power between the two realms. People with common sense could see that Hell was a terrible place to live while being ruled by horrible people. And yet, Agent Danarius of Hell's Intelligence and Special Services would still do anything to protect it.

Home was home, after all.

While Danarius might have been disillusioned over the years, despite what he was told all his life, it didn't mean he wasn't a lover of his home and her people. At least in a nationalistic sense. Sitting alone in his office, late at night when people were supposed to be asleep, Danarius was typing on his computer with baggy eyes and a cup of double caffeine next to him. All while dealing with the worst enemy any agent had to deal with: paperwork.

Danarius was a demonic lizard of pure green scales and a mix of orange and red eyes glowing in the dark. Unlike most of his kind, he was born with no horns anywhere on his body which was rare. It was often thought by his people, the Lac'daerta, that it was a sign of someone blessed by Satan to rise high in the world. While Danarius had managed to get his job at the H.I.S.S at a younger age than average, he hadn't managed to achieve much in prestige. He managed to work on a few cases here and there, but most turned out to be false leads or low-risk threats. Despite what the TV shows portray, intelligence work wasn't always finding terrorist groups that threatened to destroy a ring level, break into the headquarters, and have a big shootout before saving the day and giving out a few one-liners. Most of the time, it was following trails and leads, spying on a few people, assessing threats, and waiting for things to happen. Danarius only fired his gun once, which was in self-defense at a drug-induced crazed hobo trying to rob him for money.

It honestly was getting to Danarius that he had yet to do something that made his job feel meaningful until he finally got on a case that was interesting: The I.R.A., aka the Imp Resistance Army.

Danarius had nothing against Imps, unlike the majority of Hell. Having spent his summers in Wrath by the farming lands, he had grown to respect the so-called "weakest" of Hell's races for their determination and other qualities. However, he wasn't blind to mistreating Imps from the other races, including the higher-up ones. So it wasn't surprising that resistance groups were fighting for equality for their race. Most didn't last a year, but this one, the I.R.A., was different from the rest because they were not just making multiple terrorist attacks. Large populations of demons were dying because of it, including high-ranking demons.

If there was anything that got the bureaucratic machine of Hell (or any government for that matter) moving, it was when someone was threatening their power or their lives.

The organization had been around for years, but rumor had it that the founders of it had been doing terrorist activities for far longer. Far past the age of any Imp should be able to live. This was still rumor and hearsay, but whoever led them was an expert and experienced.

According to their manifesto, the organization's main goal was to overthrow the system of Hell itself, purge Hell of any of the Fallen, Goetia, or other higher-ranking demons, and establish a democratic elective council of experts who would replace the authoritarian oligarchy system. In other words, they wanted to burn it all down and start over on their terms.

Whatever process they were doing to make these goals a reality seemed to be killing just mostly rich demons or nobles. Their attacks ranged from explosive bombs detonated in buildings, to snipers shooting them in their cars, cutting demons' throats open in bed with no sign of how they got in. Innocent demons were caught in the crossfire on average in these attacks, with shock and high casualties being the goal. They even targeted their fellow Imps. If you were not with them, you were against them, even if you were an Imp.

Rubbing his eyes, Danarius tried to keep himself awake to finish his report. He had spent the last sixteen hours going over a four-hour-long video that the I.R.A. had managed to send to every central news station with another message and manifesto. Basically, they were the usual ramblings of demons that believed they were right and demanded all Imps join in the revolution. He had to not only watch the damn thing repeatedly but write down what happened, such as clues the video could give, and psychologically evaluate the means behind each part of the message. It didn't help that the air conditioning was down, and it was too hot to be doing his report in his suit, so he took it off. Since it was just him, he figured nobody wouldn't mind him just working in his white dress shirt and pants.

Just as he reached for his coffee to try and keep himself awake, there was a "clicking" sound followed by a barrel pointed right at the back of his head. Danarius froze and sat in his chair in disbelief. By the angle at which the barrel was pointing at his head, he could tell that the demon holding him hostage was shorter than he was.

"Don't move," the voice behind him said. Looking at his monitor, Danarius could see the reflection of two black and white horns, indicating that his captor was an Imp. "I'm not going to hurt you, but I need you to keep your eyes forward."

"Okay," Danarius whispered, doing his best to stay calm. If the Imp was here to assassinate him, he would have done it already, which meant he needed him alive.

"Who are you?"

"...Call me Moxxie for now," the now-named Imp replied though Danarius could tell there was hesitation in using that name. "Agent Danarius. Age 29. Graduated fourth in the H.I.S.S. academy. Mother. Father. Six brothers. Your superiors have ranked you as an expert in planning operations, logistics, and protection detail. You're new enough to not be corrupted, bought, or have a hidden agenda like other agents. You recently have been put into the I.R.A. case."

"I take you are I.R.A?" Danarius asked.

"...I am, but I don't want to be anymore," Moxxie answered, which made Danarius's eyes widen. "I'm here because I want to take them down. All of them. I can give you all the information you request. Their leaders, who they have contact with, members, supporters, and who's a spy or bribed to be an informant. Including in H.I.S.S."

"There are spies here?" Danarius asked with horror at the thought of spies in H.I.S.S.

"Yes, and I'll help you route them out and get rid of I.R.A., but under one condition," Moxxie demanded.

"What?"

"...I want to disappear," Moxxie whispered. "A new life. New name. I want protection. I just...I want out. I want to be free."

The gun soon disappeared from Danarius' head, and he slowly turned around to see the imp to be no older than a slightly older teen barely close to adulthood. Danarius couldn't believe what he was seeing until a realization hit him. He's a child soldier.

Moxxie then pulled out a USB drive and handed it over to Danarius. "This contains the next attacks being planned in the next few weeks. It's a sign of trust. I'll get in contact with you again."

Danarius looked at the USB and wondered what he had gotten himself into. "How are you-"

He looked up and saw that it was just him in his office. All alone.

***Present***

Can't believe it's been so long since our first meeting, Danarius thought as he sat under the umbrella of the outdoor garden breakfast cafe he had texted Moxxie for their meeting. Hell, it's been so long since we actually spoke.

It had been Danarius idea that, after the I.R.A. was destroyed and Moxxie got his new life, they would never physically see each other again unless something happened. Danarius always kept tabs on the Imp regardless. He owed him so much for not just his help taking down the I.R.A. organization but also kickstarting his career. Meeting Moxxie was the turning point that made Danarius a top star in H.I.S.S. With his help in taking down the terrorist organization that had taken claimed a lot of lives, Danarius became a rising star. He rose up the ranks using that fame and even made some reforms within the organization.

Since then, save for checking up on Moxxie once in a while to ensure he was okay, Danarius had no direct contact with him until now. He was finishing his Croque Madame when he spotted Moxxie, in a fedora and long brown coat, walking over with his eyes looking around to ensure they were alone. Motioning him to sit down, Danarius and Moxxie quickly shook hands and smiled at each other. "It's good to see you again, Moxxie. Congratulations on your marriage. I know I'm late to that but still."

"Thanks, Danarius," Moxxie said with a smile before frowning. "Are my parents secured?"

"Yeah, I even put extra guards and measures to be sure," Danarius grumbled before rubbing his head. "I really wished they would allow them to be executed already."

"You know they won't," Moxxie muttered, shaking his head. "They want the means to create demons like me. Not to mention figure out how they've lived for so long. My parents won't give that up even on their deathbed, but that won't matter to some people who want that power."

"And this is one of the reasons why they should have died," Danarius said. "Are you sure it's one of your siblings?"

"ACDD-110109200512," Moxxie answered with a sigh. "Although he's going by Tyson now."

"He was designed and trained to be a demolitions expert, right?" Danarius said as he brought up the file on his phone.

"Yeah, he knows enough about explosives to level an entire city. Fuck, he may just even do that," Moxxie whispered.

"What does he want?" Danarius asked.

"Well, he wants me dead. That's a given," Moxxie replied, rolling his eyes. "But he mainly wants the location of where Mom and Dad are. Otherwise, he will come after me, my family, my friends....and my child."

"Congratulations," Danarius said with a smile. "I've got a kid too. Five-year-old girl. She's the world to me."

"Then you understand why I need your help with this," Moxxie said as he leaned forward and growled. "I spent nine years building up my own life after we took down my family. I won't let Millie, Blitz, or anyone else get caught up in this."

"Right, I can arrange for you and your family to get protective custody and move you to a different ring-"

"No!" Moxxie said, putting his fist down. "No moving! Nothing of that! We start moving, and my wife will want answers, and I...I can't tell her what I was!"

Danarius stared at Moxxie with wide eyes before looking at him in disbelief. "Seriously?! Moxxie, you have to tell her!"

"No! I..." Moxxie bit his lip and looked down in shame. Closing his eyes, he covered his face with his hands and let out a silent sob. "How...how can I tell her that I'm a monster? That I'm a terrorist. That I killed children..."

"Moxxie," Danarius quickly put his hand on the near-sobbing Imp and sighed. "You must tell her the truth, or she will hate you for lying to her."

"You don't understand," Moxxie muttered as he pushed his hands away. "Millie is all I have next to those I work with. She's the brightest part of my life because she thinks I'm a good guy. Her family hates me because I'm not to their standard of what makes a man. If she finds out about this, she might...they might..."

He then took a deep breath and shook his head, "Besides, our boss and friend need us. He's going through a...difficult time, and neither of us wants to leave him."

Danarius rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Look, I can't tell you what to want to do, but if you refuse to go the proper route, this limits what I can help you with.'

"I know," Moxxie sighed as he got up and shook his head. "I know this is asking a lot, but I still need your help."

"... I'll see what I can do," Danarius said, getting up and putting his hand on Moxxie's shoulder. "But you're going to have to tell her eventually, Moxxie. And it should be done on your terms, not your brother's."

"I know..." Moxxie muttered before closing his eyes. "And yet I feel trapped either way."

***

While Gadreel would admit he was glad to be no longer in danger from Micheal and his angels, the Fallen Angel couldn't help but feel he was in a much more dangerous position now. Ever since his survival against the Great Flood, Gadreel had done his best to stay underground and continue his work in improving mankind's ability to destroy itself with war and destruction. Sure, it made his eyes constantly bleed blood as punishment for it, but just the satisfaction he was getting from helping God's favorite creatures kill themselves over and over was worth it. Of course, Gadreel knew that things couldn't last forever, and he had to be ready to throw everything under the bus just for the chance to survive another day. Survival had been his actual skill, and as the last of the Grigori, he felt that his survival was a one-up on the old man in the sky.

That being said, Gadreel knew he was making a risky move in agreeing to help Cain.

Of all the beings in the universe, none was more dangerous or hated than the first murderer himself. The man who murdered his brother, then cursed and used that curse to his advantage to become the living embodiment of hatred itself in a way. The being who caused events such as The Great Flood, The Bronze Age Collapse, and The Eldritch-Devil War. The abomination that Hell and Heaven equally despised to the point that Lucifer would gladly work with his brothers if it meant ending the man who betrayed him and used him like a fool.

Gadreel, sitting in his seal in the dark chambers meeting place that Cain had summoned every one of his little "club" to talk, stared at the cursed one's mark and shivered. Even now, tens of thousands of years after it was carved into his flesh, one could feel the utter sinisterness of that mark.

The mark that gave Cain his power, and yet was also his curse.

It was similar to Gadreel's, but Cain would never say that. To him, nobody had a worse curse than him. While Gadreel's curse was to bleed out of his eyes for whenever others were killed in warfare, Cain was forced to endure endless pain and suffering inside and out for any act of violence and murder performed on Earth. No matter the person, innocent or guilty, if someone died from an act of violence, then Cain would feel their pain. Physically, mentally, and spiritually in an indescribable feeling of utter agony. And since there were constantly acts of violence nearly every second...

How the man-if he even can be called that-continues to exist, is beyond me, Gadreel thought as he stared at the being who had become more or less a monster of his own hatred. The one who took the curse given to him as a means to make him powerful, monstrous, and immortal. For so long as violence existed, Cain could never die. Ever. The curse kept him alive, but it kept him in constant suffering. Yet the way he was sitting there all calm, you'd think he was just fine and dandy.

Gadreel didn't know how Cain could do it, and frankly, he didn't want to know.

Instead, sitting in his dark stone chair, he focused on the three others before him in similar chairs. The five of them were facing each other in the large dark chamber with a glowing red orb in the middle that was the size of a boulder. Gadreel had no idea what its purpose was, but his focus was on the other group members that Cain had been leading in secret under the noses of both Heaven and Hell.

The first was one that Gadreel knew quite well. They had even done business long ago. King Belial of the Ars Goetia Family. One of the highest-ranking Goetia in their family line, Head of the 9th House, Belial, was one of the most well-known demons in Hell for being an influential political figure. If you were to ask humans what a demon would look like, then Belial would perhaps fit most of their vision of a demonic benign. He was tall, about fourteen feet, and heavily muscled with ash-colored skin that Gadreel knew was covered in scars and runes from the many wars he had served in. He wore an oversized blood-red coat made out of the feathers of angels he had killed in the past, with all of them dying in bloody fashion (hence the color), with his house's family crest on the back. His six demonic glowing red eyes were narrowed at each of the various figures in the room, and his four crooked horns had veins glowing like magma in a volcano. It was not a surprise to see him here all things considered. Belial had always been more supportive of the Goetia family than Lucifer himself. Undoubtedly, he was one of the many who secretly wished for a return to the time they ruled Hell before the Fallen arrived.

The second being was, of all things, a human. A regular female human wearing a scientist's outfit. She was caucasian and spoke with a British accent (East Midlands, if Gadreel guessed) while having her dark brown hair in a bun. She occasionally fixed her glasses here and there while checking something on the tablet in her hands. Gadreel expected this woman to be scared out of her wits or even in complete utter shock at seeing supernatural beings. Especially if she was a scientist. However, she looked completely stoic and, in some cases, bored of even being there. Gadreel tried to think of who she could be, but nothing came up in his memory. It seemed strange for a human to be involved in Cain's plan, but it wouldn't be the first time he had managed to trick humanity into following him. After all, Cain nearly caused the end of all mankind thanks to The Great Flood incident.

The final person was someone Gadreel had never met but knew by reputation only. He was wearing a simple blue business suit, pants, and black dress shoes, but this was the only normal thing about him. Because his skin was made out of a moving liquid-like flesh that reminded Gadreel of the T-1000 from Terminator 2. It was a mix of silver and black, with purple stars floating inside it like fish in an aquarium. This was not the actual state of this being, however, merely one of many of his one thousand forms he could take. It wasn't also a surprise to see him here since Cain was one of the few beings who was friends with the Eldritch Demons, considering he was the one who helped them cross over from their dimension to this one and invade Hell all those years ago. Of course, most of the top leadership was dead from the Eldritch-Devil War, but some survived, including the one before him: Nyarlathotep, The Crawling Chaos.

"Well, shall we get this meeting underway?" Cain asked, hooded and folding his legs while keeping his hands on his lap. "I've summoned you here because we have a new ally in our cause: Gadreel."

The Fallen Angel nodded to the three. Belial just huffed and turned away. The female human merely nodded, and Nyarlathotep changed his face to that of a male dark-skinned human and smiled with a wink before changing back to his previous form.

"Due to circumstances, Gadreel will be assisting us in our goals," Cain said as he turned to Gadreel and put his arm out in the introduction towards the female human. "You already know of Belial and Nyarlathotep, but allow me to introduce Doctor Alexia Spencer. One of the most highly decorated scientists in various fields such as bioengineering, cybernetics, and nanotechnology."

"If you are so highly decorated, how come I never heard of you when I was in the Pentagon?" Gadreel asked, eyebrow raised.

"Due to the projects I was involved with, my existence is a secret in the E.U. Not even the Americans know I exist," Dr. Spencer answered with a shrug. "Not that I cared. The E.U. is just a joke these days and no further to helping humanity than it claimed it wanted me to do."

"I found out about Dr. Spencer through my contacts in the E.U. and offered her a chance to be part of something that can help humanity reach its full potential without a God hindering it or preventing it from reaching it," Cain answered.

"And how are you taking the existence of God, Heaven, Hell, and all that entails?" Gadreel asked.

"I'm an atheist, so I thought such things were nonsense until I saw it all firsthand," Dr. Spencer whispered, her eyes clothing as she breathed in and out as if to calm herself. After doing this for a few minutes, she opened her eyes and straightened her posture. "However, this doesn't change anything. Mankind doesn't need a God to achieve success as a civilization. And I aim to make that vision a reality."

"Just remember that you are among your betters, in the end, human," King Belial stated, which earned him a glare from the woman. "You may think you can transcend yourselves beyond your current state to something greater, but you will always be weaker to those who came before you."

"And yet the demons are not really in control of themselves, are they?" Dr. Spencer muttered back. "You really are controlled by an Angel who fell from grace. A creature created in Heaven and not Hell. Thus I would say that Angels, even exiled ones, are superior to your kind. Does that make you weaker, Belial?"

Belial looked ready to launch himself at the woman as Nyarlathotep cackled before turning his body into a caucasian male wearing a Toronto Maples hockey jersey. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"Enough," Cain stated, and everyone went quiet in a second. "We're all allies in this cause, and I will not allow infighting. Understood?"

The four of them nodded.

"Good," Cain then turned to Gadreel. "Gadreel, because of your experience, you will assist Dr. Spencer with Operation Nephilim. She will fill in the details of what that is in private."

"Understood."

"Nyarlathotep, how well goes convincing the other Eldritch leaders to join us?"

"Pretty good," The Crawling Chaos stated as his head soon turned into a giant tentacle with no eyes, a big mouth with sharp teeth, and a slithering tongue. "We don't have to worry about Shabbith-Ka and their arguments anymore. My apprentice saw to that."

"You have an apprentice?" Gadreel asked in surprise. "Since when?"

"For the past few decades," Nyarlathotep answered before transforming himself to look like Emperor Palpatine from Star Wars, voice and all. "My apprentice was originally someone I made a deal with years ago, but now they serve me as my spy and enforcer."

"Yes, your apprentice did great work, but I want him to focus on his main task for now. Understood?" Cain pointed out.

"Of course."

"And when do we go after Stolas?" King Belial demanded as he leaned down towards Cain, who looked up at him without worry. "We know he's not only using the Grimoire of Worlds for those Imps to assassinate humans in the living world, but just as you predicted, they have a Spirit Healer helping them cure Blitzo of the after-effects of what the Nightmare Parasite did to him. We have enough to warrant their deaths right there and then."

"Patience, Belial," Cain advised with his hand up. "While we are still going to go with the plan of accusing Stolas of misusing the Grimoire of World so that we can have it, we will not reveal anything about the Spirit Healer to the greater whole of Hell."

"Why not?" Belial asked, folding his arms.

"Because very few beings know of this arrangement, and some of them are in Heaven," Cain explained. "My spy in Heaven is the only one I have up there and is one of them. They will be easily exposed if this information is brought out to the public, and I cannot risk losing such a vital piece in the game just yet. We will keep the Spirit Healer a secret, but we will go through with the case we are building against Stolas."

"And if the legal process doesn't work?"

"Then we'll go with the more bloody path. We need a second Grimoire of Worlds for our plan to work, and we will have it. One way or the other."

***

With the successful first dive into Blitzo's soul, Stolas felt a lot more relaxed now that it was proven that it could work and that his lover reacted positively to the experience. Of course, this was because he saw positive memories and not negative ones, which would be something he would have to experience during the sessions. Yet, seeing his Blitzy smile with a genuine sense of joy instead of the hidden misery in his eyes was enough for Stolas. The bird demon had a happy two days with his lover and their daughters with lunch and a few simple activities. Moxxie and Millie had been busy moving some of their stuff into their room while the former was also visiting what time he had with his brother. Millie wasn't bothered that he requested to see him alone. After all, he had been presumed dead for years. As for Rachmiel, he kept to himself for now but was occasionally engaging in conversation with others.

At least he and Loona are civil now, Stolas thought as he made his way to the Hazbin Hotel's doors. He had decided to come over with his first paycheck for the organization and to talk further with Princess Charlie about a few things.

When he knocked on the door, he waited for a few minutes until the doors opened. However, when he did so, his face fell, and his eyes widened at who it was that answered the door.

"Hello, Stolas," Stella said softly, yet there was a sternness in her eyes. "We need to talk about the angel living in your home with our daughter."