Fallen Angel

Author's Note: This story is based on a dream that 1hat6y0u/dibbingsauce had. I opted to write a story about it, albeit with my own twist.
Angel Dust was originally going to be killed off in the season finale. You heard me right. 
Vivienne Medrano confirmed that one of the characters from the main cast would bite the dust, long before the first season was done. Spoiler alert, it ended up being Sir Pentious, the snake demon, who died in a rather funny way. Much less weird than what was originally intended.
How do I know this? I supported her Patreon at around twenty bucks a month, and I got access to a compressed folder full of storyboards, animatics, etcetera. It was up for around a minute or two until she took it down. I kind of got lucky and downloaded it beforehand.
The file was “fallenangelfinal.mkv,” and it wasn’t an animatic or a storyboard like a majority of the videos in there. It looked finished. Fully animated and everything. If you’re wondering what Viv had to say about that, lemme spit all of this out of my system first.
It began with Angel Dust walking into the hotel, his arms wrapped around his torso, with visible bags forming under his eyes. He’d walk through the lobby, the only noise that can be heard being the taps of his heels. Husk seemed to be the only one there, cleaning glasses. He’d look up for a moment and raise an eyebrow at Angel.
“You look awful.”
“Heh, yeah, thanks for statin’ the obvious, kitty… ‘preciate it.”
“Need a scotch?”
“Nah, I’d rather have a drink that doesn’t taste like shit.”
Angel had this nasty, toothy scowl on his face just being in Husk’s presence. He looked as if he was holding in his urge to strangle him. It was quite different compared to how he actually was in the start of Season One, knowing how he only had conflict with him for one episode. Imagine my surprise when I found out this was supposed to be in the last one.
Angel would continue walking, traversing upstairs to, weirdly enough, Charlie’s room. He had a room key in his hand that supposedly belonged to her, but he wasn’t shown getting it in the previous scene. He’d then open it and walk over to where her balcony was before lighting a cigarette.
Zoning off, watching the hibiscus-tinted sky with a frown, he began to smoke, wheezing from the first blow. The clangor of gunshots, people arguing, cars beeping, and (for some reason) police sirens would ring out into the sky. He’d let out a grunty sigh, before whispering to himself.
“...why’re you so nice to me? I ain’t special, I ain’t unique… I’m just a slut, like they all say at the studio.”
Angel would sniff, and then whimper. He’d cover his eyes in an attempt to keep himself from crying. For about thirty seconds, the view would slowly zoom onto his face, with echoes of the main cast talking playing through his head. His fingers clenched over his hair as he tried to keep it in, eventually failing.
He sure as hell cried. Not because of Charlie, but because of a certain someone who busted the balcony doors open behind him. Valentino. The character everyone is essentially supposed to hate. Seeing him appear, of all people, made me wonder how this would play out.
He would back up against the side of the balcony, his heart pounding with fear as his manager stepped forward. Angel was just about to beg, but he kept his mouth shut. Valentino’s fists tightened.
“Why aren’t you at work…”
“What the fuck?! Where’s Husky-”
“I took care of him. Crazy what wonders rope and scissors can do. Now, answer my question, whore. Why aren't you at work?”
“...simple. I quit.”
“Angelcakes, baby… the contract. I don’t know how many times I gotta cram this in your FUCKING BRAIN. You. Are under. My bidding.”
“Fuck your bidding! Do you know how sick I am of going to the studio!? Letting people who HATE me force my mouth open?! I only signed that stupid paper cause I didn’t wanna be a nobody…”
“You’ll be one earlier than the deadline of your signature if you don’t obey-”
“Thinkin’ about being with a SHITBABY like you makes me wish I was back the way I was. We’re done.”
“You don’t get to decide when you’re finished.”
“Yes I can.”
“No, you can’t-”
“YES I CAN! What are you gonna do? Whine and bitch and moan over my phone like ya always do?! Or make my hours longer?! Or cry about it to your STUPID friends!? Don’t you have other broads to bother with? Don’t you? Again… we’re done. Don’t talk to me ever aga-”
Val stepped closer to Angel, with his shaking, veiny fists clutching onto his slave’s collar. Angel’s eyes were widened with consternation. His eyeliner dripped down his face in waterfalls.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to get, baby… last chance.”
“I said NO, ASSHOLE! WHAT PART OF ‘NO’ DO YOU NOT GET?!”
At that moment, Angel shoves Val away from him. His pimp stumbles on his feet and almost falls over. Valentino’s smile curled wide, with lustful rage.
“Hmhm… you really think you can touch me like that? CVNT?”
With that, Valentino speedwalks over to Angel and lifts his leg, giving a stern, cruel kick to his forehead. Angel would shriek and flip over the balcony by his back, falling off. He would let out a chilling scream as Val watched him from above.
It cut to Angel’s view as he was dropping down, with sounds of heavy wind blowing by, and then to a side view. His arms were waving like empty tubes in front of him, and the frames of his descension had a smear effect, like a camera fell alongside him. 
After around four seconds of Angel plummeting downward, he would hit a swimming pool built next to the hotel, his head striking against the side of it. Once he hit the target, the screen would freeze on that exact frame. The screen began to flicker rapidly, and the audio spiked.
Then, Angel gasped and woke up. It was no dream. It was a so-called choice of predestination.
The music in the background was barely even considered to be music. It sounded like a waterphone playing an ancient hymn. Random notes being tapped.
Angel would stand back up on his feet, his footwear now replaced with plain white socks, stumbling for a moment until he was still. He’d look down on himself, and see that he was wearing a plain white, short-sleeved shirt, with sweatpants the same color. On his shirt read a number: 
“35”
In the dark void he stood in, he saw a doorway a few feet away from him, slightly illuminating his body in the abyss. 
“What the hell…”
He’d whisper as he stumbled, then walked to the doorway. Peeking his head out from the other side, he’d shiver with bewilderment.
A long road pattern, miles upon miles long, with a light red sky above. Surrounding the pathway were houses, with the exact same architecture. Every time. Far off in the distance looked like a large, circular road, almost like a cul-de-sac, with completely different buildings surrounding it. Buildings with big signs that said “FOOD,” “RECREATION,” “DELIVERY,” etcetera. While each house had a sign too, they each had numbers on them. 
Angel would call to see if anyone was around. No one answered. He began to search amongst the houses for the one with his number on it. Thirty-five. What did that number mean? I know it was his house number, but why that one? Angel did die in his mid-30s. Could that be it?
After multiple small cuts of Angel turning corners, sweating from the forehead, and nervously biting his nails, he’d finally find the house, with a big “35” nailed to the door. Next to his door was a small key, somewhat similar to the one he used to open Charlie’s room. Angel muttered.
“Why here…”
He’d turn the key and push the door open. Inside was a staircase leading to the room above, a small square-shaped TV on a drawer, a futon with a coffee table in front of it, and a small cardboard box labeled “To Anthony” on it. The music wasn’t of a waterphone this time. It consisted of a music box, playing a rendition of “Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow” from the pilot.
“Who… put that there?”
Angel sits on the futon and gently opens the box, revealing multiple crochet dolls inside, and a small disk reading “MEMORIES” on it. The dolls weren’t just ordinary ones you’d find at an old thrift shop. Each one was someone Angel got to know before dying. Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Cherri, and even the Radio Demon, Alastor. Picking up the disk, his lips would quiver, before he inserted it into the TV and turned it on via the remote on his coffee table.
Two lines of text appeared on the screen in front of Angel, each having one word. “Pre-death,” and “post-death.” Pressing the button on “post-death” would bring him to another screen. Lines upon lines of text read out specific things to him, like “A Nice Drink” and “Hotel Meeting #1.” 
He’d press a button on one of the lines, that line being “Friends to Different People.”
Up came a video from Angel’s point of view. It showed Cherri, sitting with him and having a nice chat, all while chugging alcohol. Then, he’d move onto the next video. And the next. And the next. Most of the videos consisted of clips from the actual show, first episode to now. After realizing why the disk had that writing on it, a single tear would fall from his eye, and he would put a soft smile on his face.
Lying on his side, the sounds of the TV showcasing his memories of him playing, he’d clutch onto each and every doll he got from the box and squeeze them tightly, before uttering one last thing, in a raspy, quiet tone.
“H-heh… get em’ up there for me, dollface. Reach for the clouds.”
That’s when it suddenly cut back to Angel’s corpse floating above the swimming pool, the view facing the same position as when he was lying on the futon. The side of his head looked like it was blasted apart, with a huge, open wound surrounding it. His right eyeball hung from its socket, and his limbs were bent in impossible directions. The sweet music box that was heard earlier, now reverted back to the sounds of city racket.
The camera would zoom out into a birds’ eye view above the hotel, and fancy text would fade in.
“At that moment, he had no one to wish him well, but the recollections ensured his place in Double Hell. Though it’s not yet certain, and he couldn’t tell, he still had hope for…”
The text would fade out, and Hazbin Hotel’s logo faded in. The video then ended.
I managed to get a hold of Vivienne through her Instagram. She did have a Gmail account, but its main use was to apply for work on the project, and Twitter’s messaging system was pretty much locked by greed, so this was the only way I could do it.
Here’s what she texted back with:
“Looks like I can’t hide it lmao. Yeah Angel was originally gonna die. My first idea was to have the whole process of preparing for the extermination to last two seasons instead of one. Hence why you don’t see any exterminators flying by in the scene and whatnot”
“We started on the final scene first as we wanted to get the hardest thing out of the way keeping the special effects and stuff in mind, but then I scrapped the idea (don’t worry I paid the animators extra as an apology, I felt really bad having to scrap it) cause 1, I didn’t know how people would feel about a character that’s already tortured enough dying a horrible death, and 2, I felt like I had much better ideas in mind for the series such as Lilith being foreshadowed as the next big bad for season 2”
“I chose Pentious because he’s pretty much a comedic character who can die in a funny way and his death can still come across as tragic somewhat. One more thing I wanna say rq, main reason I deleted the post with the attachment in it is cause I didn’t know whether people would be upset or not that this wasn’t the ending they got. Hate to disappoint people, but hey, a fanbase is a fanbase. Anyway yeah, thanks for talking to me about it and not leaking it online lol, I appreciate it! Oh and feel free to share about its existence in case anyone else got it, but keep in mind I’ll take down any post with the video in it, full or not”
Category:Internet
Category:Animation
Category:Alternate Ending
Category:Alternate Scene
Category:Murder
Category:Death
Category:Afterlife
Category:Lafawnda's Reading Hour