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Blood, sweat and ink

Summary:

After dying along with their final victim, Redhart finds themself in Hell. Luckily, they were in the right place at the right time and with a good head on their shoulder, they may be able to make things work. With the help of Vox and their Great, great granduncle Alastor, the trio manages to flip the entirety of Hell over right into the palm of their hands. And it all started from a passion for recording Hell's history and doing the paperwork others dreaded. Turns out when the two media overlords work together for a good cause, things actually get done around here, and maybe just maybe redemption isn't about getting to heaven.

chapters posted: 40 (excluding prologue)
chapters written so far: 41/?

Notes:

This is my first fic, so comments are appreciated. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing this. Updates will be irregular (sorry). Thanks for taking the time to read this :)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Prolouge

Chapter Text

Iris Redgrave dodged the ballistic missile that was the partially broken bottle thrown in their direction from the seething, drunken woman in front of them. It shattered against the wall, spraying shards across the alleyway, some of which became submerged in the inky blackness of the ever-growing puddles. The woman’s rage only grew, seeing her bottle miss the intended target, she rushed towards Iris, arms outstretched in muscle memory, ready to strangle. Iris only rolled their eyes; they were no child, they were experienced, they had already dealt with six others like her over the years. It was always the same routine; humans truly were simple beings. They simply maneuvered themselves into a position where they could restrain her arms and shoved her against the cold metal of the power box. The woman let out an enraged scream, and Iris cackled. No one would be out at this time in this weather, and no one would care about a missing drunk with a tendency to wander off for days without returning. An alibi was right there, handing itself to Iris on a silver platter. Iris reached into the pocket of their trench coat and pulled out a knife that gleamed with the refracted light of the moon. A sinister smile sharpened on their face as they examined the tool, knowing who it was to dam and who it was to free. No one deserved the monster in front of them as a parent. She continued to squirm under Iris’s arm geting more and more desperate for escape; however, the only escape would be that of the afterlife if there was one. It was quick and far more exhilarating than any of Iris’s other kills. Then they noticed why the knife had not only breached the woman's body but also the casing of the box behind them. Well, shit, that would do it, with the combination of adrenaline and electricity surging through their body, it was no surprise that they felt energised. However, Iris knew that this couldn't last forever, as soon as that electricity stopped, they were a goner.