Arséne Lupin of Hell. (Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss )

Who am I? What am I? Where am I?

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Tic-BANG

The Hellhound wakes up in a line all leading to a giant gate leading to a checkpoint. A line where he's one behind to the person on the checkpoint.

He looks up to see a mirror and a sign that says "Welcome to Hell." He sees his face, the only thing about it is, he doesn't know who he is with this face. Strangely, he can't remember his own name.

Hellhound: Who am I?

Demon: Hey, biggest question for us all pal. Now, shut up and get ready, it's your turn next.

The hellhound wanted to turn around, but saw that the person in front of him got into the gates. The person was behind a desk and some bars, it would appear to be to protect the person behind the desk. The demon was a female imp, wearing glasses on her face, clearly close to being tired. She must've been through long hours of the day to go through so many sinners in the line.

Demon receptionist: Hello sir, would you like to know why you are in hell?

Hellhound: Um...yes please, along with who I am.

DR: "Please"? Been a long time since I heard that word.

She types on a keyboard and looks at the screen.

DR: Huh, now that's odd.

Hellhound: What is it?

DR: It only has your sin, height, age, weight, and time of death. But no name or history.

Hellhound: Oh. What is my sin?

DR: Greed, anything else?

Hellhound: My age and time of death?

DR: Age 19, died on the 11th of December. Hmm, very odd.

Hellhound: How so?

DR: This is Feb 13th, how is it that you missed the extermination day?

Hellhound: Extermination day?

The demons behind him begin to stir up some noise for being halted. The hellhound took notice as he turned around.

Hellhound: Could you let me in? I don't want to hold up the line any longer.

DR: Hm, show that kind of emotion here, this place will chew you up the next day.

The door opens up.

Hellhound: I'll umm, keep that in mind. Thank you, miss.

She nodded as he entered hell.

"Okay, so let's think this over. My sin is greed, I'm 19 years old, and I died December 11th. But, no memory beyond that." He thinks as he walks. He sees the Imps, hellhounds, and demons alike as he walks by in the city. He walks through the social areas of malls, clothing stores, and apartments.

"Why can't I remember anything?" he thought. "What could've happen to me?" He finds a spot where he can think, by the time he begins to look at himself more clearly at a broken mirror in an alleyway. His fur black as if it was night or darkness itself, his eyes; yellow-green, different to many other hellhounds he has seen, whose eyes are all red. The clothing he wears is that of an overcoat that has seen better days, a coat within red close to that of a flower. His pants would lead that of a drifter, ragged with some patches on it.