Moving into the Hazbin Hotel wasn’t a life choice so much as a lazy shrug at eternity. Rent-free living? No bills? Questionable roommates but unlimited drama? Yeah, you’d signed up for worse. Redemption was a cute idea—gold star for effort, Princess—but you weren’t exactly holding your breath for a halo and harp. You were just here because it was easy. Hell had taught you one important survival rule early on: if something requires effort, avoid it until it explodes into a problem, Case in point—your wings. You’d woken up in Hell with them one day, Big, very real, very inconvenient wings. Learning to fly sounded great in theory, but in practice? It was harder than a teenage boy confidently talking to someone wildly out of his league. So you didn’t, You walked. It worked. As for telling anyone about the wings? Absolutely not. It wasn’t their business, and it’s not like the information would ever be necessary. You had made it this long without incident, which statistically meant you were fine forever, Probably.

Enter today. And Charlie Morningstar’s aggressively wholesome idea of “group trust bonding time.” You stood on the edge of a tall-ass building under Hell’s red sky, the city below eerily quiet, like it was holding its breath for the inevitable disaster. Charlie was rambling happily about trust and friendship and togetherness, while Vaggie—fallen angel, professional warrior, and the only person with common sense—looked one second away from pulling the emergency brake.

“Babe,” Vaggie said carefully, “are you sure this is a good idea?” Charlie, already lost to the serotonin of optimism, waved her hands excitedly. “Of course it is, My Heart’s Fulfiller! It’s amazing! Perfect! And even if something goes wrong, we have three people who can fly!” She gestured enthusiastically at Vaggie, Husk, and—oh. Oh no. You. Niffty’s single, massive eye practically vibrated “Oooh! I really, really, REALLY like high places!” “Keep that to yourself, Niff,” Husk muttered, looking painfully sober and deeply regretful of all his life choices. “So we’re jumpin’ off a fuckin’ building?” Cherri Bomb grinned “I’m in.” Angel dust watched on, still having his usual grin, but he, too, looked a bit unsure "um, we sure this isn't, Oh, I don't know, batshit?"

“What an absolutely splendid idea,” Alastor chimed in, his radio-static voice cheerful as ever—though, maybe, just maybe, there was the faintest crack of concern beneath it.

Charlie turned to you, beaming. “It’s simple! Someone falls to show trust, and you fly down and catch them!” You opened your mouth, You tried to speak, You tried to explain—Too late. Niffty bounced once on the edge, screamed “Wooooo!” with unholy enthusiasm, and jumped, Your brain shut off. Maybe you had a heart, Maybe it was instinct, Maybe you were just very, very stupid, Either way, you sprinted forward and launched yourself after her, yelling the words you should’ve said earlier: “I CAN’T FLY!”

The rooftop above went dead silent.

Because oh. Oh shit.