Your mouth was agape as you stared at what should have been the ulnar vein in your wrist. It was tinted a slight green and wriggled wildly beneath your flesh. You were quite reasonably petrified, and only after several silent minutes did you gently prod at the vein with your right index finger. The vein ceased all movement and almost completely changed back to the normal blue that could be seen through the skin.

You instantly feel an intense wave of nausea sweep over you. Your poor legs were wobbly as you tried to sprint to the bathroom door. Fumbling with the knob for far too long, you thrust the door open and make a beeline for the toilet. That tea you had earlier wasn't so pretty coming back up. You watched the brown substance disappear in a swirl of stomach acid and toilet water.

Taking deep breaths as you lean back on the wall, you observe the room. A blue towel hung on the wall next to you. The wallpaper matched the bedrooms. Even the tiles that lined the bathtub wall were white mixed with sporadically placed tiles of your colour choice. There were already the respective bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Only unlike the hotel's up in the human world, these are normal size. Probably due to the assumption of a long stay from whatever patron was residing in the room. Upon closer inspection, you discovered that they were coconut scented. You also discovered that it was hilariously named Paintene. You crack a small smile at that, and look to the sink next. A toothbrush still in the packaging and a generic brand of toothpaste sat by the sink.

You decide to put those to use since you had just puked. The toothpaste in Hell tastes horrible, for the record. But after all is said and done, you wash the toothbrush and place both items in the medicine cabinet. When it closes, you look at yourself in the mirror for the first time. You were covered in a few bruises and dried mud, but other than that, you seemed to be you. Your teeth weren't even sharp, as you had noticed everyone else's were. You seemed to be utterly normal. Maybe that wriggling vein was a hallucination of sorts.

Yeah. You could believe that. You leave the bathroom and look to the dresser. Out of sheer curiosity, you open the top drawer up. Lo and behold, there was some baggy leisure clothing in there. You hesitantly take the clothes out to inspect them. It's a gray long sleeved shirt and some black sweatpants. Perhaps not exactly your size, but hey, you absolutely were not complaining. You open the lower drawers and find boxers. The kind of boxers that are nice to sleep in, at least. There's also polka dotted fuzzy socks. Once again, you aren't going to complain about free comfortable clothing. Especially when you were wearing dirty and torn up clothes.

You scan the room once more for any other openable compartments. The nightstand drawer catches your eye. You set the clothes on the bed and open the drawer. Inside is a battery powered alarm clock, an unopened pack of batteries, and a pack of Band-Aids. You got the feeling that the Band-Aids were added specifically for you. You grab the Band-Aids, close the drawer, get the new clothes, and enter the bathroom for a shower.

The water isn't quite hot enough to ease your tensed muscles, but it still feels wonderful to get clean. You allow yourself to forget about all the crazy shit that's happened within the last few hours. In short, you relax.

After your shower, you dry off and get dressed in the new clothes. You leave the old clothes on the bathroom counter because frankly, you don't want to deal with them. Then you sit on the bed and apply the Band-Aids to the most prominent wounds. After you feel that you are sufficiently bandaged, you place the box in the nightstand and lay back on the pillows with a sigh. The blanket is a little itchy, but that's okay. You feel at peace for the time being. There's even a small smile playing on your lips as you drift away.

There's vague shapes clouding your vision when you come into consciousness. The shapes slowly refine into the interior of a car. You're behind the wheel. Your hand is tapping the side of the steering wheel in tune to the music. It occurs to you that this is all vaguely familiar, and it fills you with an almost tingly warmth. There's a sound to your right that startles you, causing you to whip your head around, heart rate suddenly speeding up. There is a person sitting next to you, but they are only a blur of colours. The sound resonates once more. It's a voice. It's her voice. You can't make out her features, even when squinting as hard as you can. The voice becomes frantic, words unintelligible. You drowsily look to the road in confusion, mouth opening to say something. But all at once there's a clear scream and a loud, sickening crunch.

You shoot up, grasping the comforter for dear life. Breathing hard, you try to familiarize yourself with your surroundings through your blurry vision. Once your vision restores, you begin to focus on items in the room, finally slowing your breathing. You're drenched in sweat and your face is wet with tears. Stumbling out of bed, you head to the bathroom and sloppily turn the sink faucet on.

After a few cold splashes of water to your face, you feel much more grounded into reality. You were in Hell, you recalled as you dried your face with the towel. As you stepped out of the bathroom, you noted that it was most likely morning, as the sky was no longer a nearly black shade of red, but a sort of light crimson. The white ball of light in the sky remained exactly where it had been the night before. That must've been Heaven. It had a super bright halo around it and everything. You snort and close your curtains.

You apply fresh Band-Aids and check your wrists for any unexpected green veins. Everything was clear, so you exited your room in search of something to drink and maybe eat. As soon as you reached the entrance to the lobby, you were hit with multiple different scents. There were several tables set out, all full of food trays. Your previous distaste for food was shot out the window the second your eyes began scanning the food. You figured that you wouldn't even be hungry. Guess you were wrong.

Your gaze was abruptly torn away from the display by a practically vibrating Charlie. "Hey Y/n! What d'ya think of the buffet?! It attracted so many demons!" A small smile forms on your face at her (rather contagious) positive energy. "It's..great? I think so anyways, I got hungry as soon as I came down here. Did you cook all this?" You inquire, slowly making your way to the plates.

"Oh no, Niffty did! And I think Alastor helped too.." she trails off, tapping her chin in memory. Those are names you don't recognize, "Who's that?" You ask, piling some eggs onto your plate. "Niffty is that cute little cyclops over there," she gestures to the critter you had seen cleaning the night before, causing you to mouth an 'Oh'. You grab a waffle and step away from the slowly building crowd of demons.

"And I haven't seen Al around today, so uh.. you'll know him when you see him. He's very red..and kinda intimidating." She explains, skimming the room and furrowing her brows when she can't find him. You open your mouth to speak, but she interrupts you, "Oh! It's Monday so he's probably broadcasting!" Now it was your turn to furrow your brows, you hadn't expected a radio broadcaster in Hell. But to be frank you hadn't expected most of what's happened to you in the past day or so.

"What's his broadcast about, like a talk show?" you ask, shoving a forkful of eggs into your mouth.

"Uhh, kinda..well, no, not really. As far as I know it's a mix of news and um..live murder?" She gives you an almost sheepish smile, brows knitted together. Mulling over that, you weren't really sure if you should be shocked. You didn't have enough knowledge about Hell to know if this was unusual, but due to Charlie's expression…

"How common is murder down here?" comes your egg-muffled query.

"Well, it's not like crime rates are low. Murder isn't uncommon but..it's usually because of fights or uh, drugs. But Alastor has a sort of reputation down here for mass carnage." She explains.

"And he lives here? With a bunch of other perfectly killable people?" you lower your plate, quirking a brow at her. Truth be told, your heart was going a little faster at the prospect of a mass murderer living in the same space as you and a bunch of (not-so) innocent demons.

"Um, well, he's actually the hotel's sponsor! He does have a room here. But I don't know how often he uses it." Okay, that was not reassuring at all. In fact, your heart probably dropped to whatever circle of hell was beneath you. The grimace on your face must've been noticeable, because Charlie immediately tried to remedy the situation, "But he said he wouldn't kill any of the hotel patrons, so don't worry about that!"

"'Not killing someone' still leaves a bunch of open opportunities," your grimace does not fade. "He could literally torture people or have someone else kill them without consequences. Though I'm not sure who would be willing to ally with this guy after what I've heard about him." You finally take a bite of toast and chew slowly, mulling over that thought.

Charlie is pretty sure she knows exactly who-or rather what-would be willing to kill patrons in Alastor's favour. But she had said "No trickster voodoo stuff," the very day The Radio Demon had entered the hotel. So his shadows were hopefully out of the equation.

You continue chatting with her idly while you eat, trying to push the supposed serial killer to the back of your mind. He sounded like someone you didn't want to meet. Speaking of meeting, as soon as you finished your plate, Charlie asked if you wanted to meet some of the other patrons. You shrug and mumble a "Sure,". Because what do you have to lose? She first takes you to the cat-owl you had engaged in brief conversation with the night before.

"Hey Husk! This is Y/n, our new patron!" She turns to you, "Y/n, this is Husk! He's our bartender!"

"Yeah, yeah, nice to meet you, now fuck off," comes the grouchy reply from the most likely hungover demon. He shoos you both away. Charlie shrugs off Husk's behavior and drags you away before you have the chance to respond to Husk.

The blonde's eyes scan the crowded lobby, then land on a very tall, very fluffy, white and pink spider. Said spider is attempting to casually walk out the front doors, nearly hidden amongst the flock of demons. Charlie rushes over and gets in front of him, "Angel!"

Angel promptly groans and somehow manages to demonstrate a dramatic full-body eyeroll. Slouching shoulders and all. Charlie gives him a pointed look, almost like a mother scolding her child, "You know you're not allowed out of the hotel right now, Angel."

"Jesus Christ, Charlie! I've been locked up in this hotel for ages! I ain't allowed to have alcohol, I can't see my friends, I can't fuck myself, let alone go ta work and fuck a client! You've cut me off'a drugs entirely and to top it all off you make me go to that shitty therapy every Wednesday!" He fumes, and Charlie sputters for a moment before going silent and looking away from the spider.

And, you know, you can't help but think you arrived in Hell at a bad time. If only you had slept in a little longer. Then maybe you wouldn't have had to bear witness to this. The spider glares down at the demoness before stepping to the side and resuming his walk to the door. Charlie bites her lip, mulling over the outburst from the spider. She sighs after a few seconds, noting how Angel's already out the door. Her attention is redirected to you, "Sorry you had to see that, Angel's a little..ill-tempered. Although it does make me wonder if I'm doing the whole rehabilitation thing wrong, y'know?"

"I mean, it looks like he's suffering from withdrawals. Maybe try easing him off with, I dunno, weed, then wean him off of that?"

"Well, I was considering implementing some kind of reward system, where if he's good he can have a drink or something," she scrunches up her nose, not too keen on the idea of Angel smoking weed.

"That's a good idea, it'd probably set a bunch of others straight as well."

You both watch the slowly diminishing horde of demons in a congenial silence. By the time there are only a couple left, the lobby is pretty much trashed. Plates left everywhere, trash from outside of the hotel, blood, for some reason. It looks like someone put twenty Sims in a small area and left them unattended for a week. Your comfortable expression had steadily morphed into a disgusted one. A few demons were at the bar, where Husk was giving them patron applications with an indifferent expression. Charlie, who was physically deflating at the mess, perked right up when she saw the three demons applying. Niffty comes skittering in, squinting at the new mess, "Are you kidding me?!" comes her screech, already beginning to clean the mess.

Right after her comes in a purple moth demon, shaking her head at the mess. She has a tired expression. She makes her way to stand next to Charlie and you. "So I guess breakfast didn't go so well,"

Charlie looks to her, then gestures to the demons standing at the bar, "Well it got some people to apply, so I think it was successful in the end!"

The woman looks over to the newcomers and tilts her head, "Yeah, that's something hun." She looks past Charlie to you, "Are you Y/n? Charlie wouldn't stop talking about you last night," a soft smile graces her face as she comes to stand in front of you. You nod, putting your hand out for a shake. She shakes it, "I'm Vaggie, thanks for joining." She returns to her spot next to Charlie, and they strike up a conversation.

After a few moments, you decide that you should take your leave. You waved to them as you made your way to leave. Charlie paused her conversation to say, "Have a good day, Y/n! The hotel's pretty large, so when you're feeling up to it you can go and explore it! If you need anything just come and find me!" You thank her and return to your room, hoping to wash up before familiarizing yourself with the hotel.