Chapter Text
Rarely is a soul's entrance into Hell a pleasant one. Sinners often meet their ends violently and are still experiencing it when they wake up in their new afterlife. Few embrace the change quickly, only the truly wicked do. Others struggle to cope with their end and their damnation. Many spend their first years in waves of insanity, reliving the trauma over and over again before settling into what would be their eternity. One never knows when or where these new souls will appear. This wasn't Heaven with its pearly gates and Saint Peter to greet them. This was Hell, it was filth and chaos. Most souls were introduced into this realm in a burst of hellfire and screams. It had been that way for Alastor and it had been vivid.
As he'd burst forth into Hell he'd felt the dogs ripping at his flesh, the sharp pain of the bullet through his forehead and the unbelievable agony of burning flesh as his human body morphed and changed into the form he was today. It was… unpleasant to say the least. Once it passed though, if one grounded themselves well, Hell had innumerable possibilities. He'd been fortunate that his arrival had happened in Cannibal Town and that Rosie, his dear sweet friend, had been the one to find him first. He hadn't known her then, but she was the best sort of soul to find a new sinner. Kind, gentle, and the patience of a Saint. She was a special one. Alastor felt a shift in his smile to something a bit more genuine as he pondered over it on his morning walk. He was on his way into a more questionable part of the Pride Circle than the safe haven that was Cannibal Town. He had business to attend to and the thought came to mind as he sidestepped a sinner who was just being birthed into the world. Alastor was not the kind of sinner one would hope to run into on your first day in hell. New souls were an easy meal to him some days and simply a nuisance on others. Fortunately for this fledgling, today was a good day for Alastor and a new soul in his path was simply a reminder of pleasant memories of the past. He hummed to himself some, feeling an added bounce to his step as he listened to the screams fade behind him. What lovely noises screams were, he loved them almost as much as a good Jazz record.
His shadow lingered behind him some, cracking a menacing smile at the new soul, and licking its lips with a grotesquely shaped tongue. He felt flashes of its feelings. Greedy hunger, a lustful want to feel flesh rip apart in its grip.
‘Come now, behave yourself.’ He thought to it, not glancing in its direction, ‘ We just ate, and besides we have bigger game ahead of us my friend.’
The shadow hesitated, looking back at the sinner with want and disappointment. It always had so much more of an appetite than he did, so much more need for violence.
‘I promise, you'll want to leave room for this one.’ He thought cheerfully, rounding a corner and grinning at an imp walking ahead of him. The imp spotted him and immediately crossed the street, eyes wide with terror as it picked up it’s pace considerably to put distance between them. ‘Overlord always is so much more satisfying.’
His shadow caught up to him, mirroring his own terrifying grin. He was on his way to deal with an overlord who had quite overstepped and deserved punishing, and oh how he did love to dole out punishment. He twirled his microphone some, almost giddy at the thought of what was to come. It really had been a splendid morning. Breakfast with Rosie, a good book, a wonderful walk, and now a punishment to be doled out, all before lunch time. His evening broadcast promised to be quite the show as long as things went to plan for him, and they always went to plan. He reached the building he was looking for and stopped momentarily to check his reflection in the window, straightening his tie and dusting off his jacket. His shadow mirrored him, smoothing down its hair.
‘One must always look their best when conducting such important business’ he thought and his shadow nodded in agreement, it's sinister smile widening. After being sure they both looked presentable Alistor reached his hand for the door as a guttural cry reached his ears causing him to stop and cock his head curiously. His ears flicked in the direction the noise came from as another one pierced the air. The crying was feminine, distressed, and heart wrenching. His shadow pinned its ears back and shrunk away from the noise, distressed and concerned. It tugged at his sleeve, pointing in the direction of an alleyway not far from them.
‘Since when are you the bleeding heart?’ he questioned, his feet already leading him in the direction of the noise. Screaming he could abide by, but crying was another thing entirely. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, the cries of women always sent a wave of mild panic through him. He'd listened to quite enough of it growing up to know when it was simply crying and something that should cause more concern. As he approached the alley the cries turned to sobbing. Horrible, desperate sobbing. He really should ignore it. His business was time sensitive, he truly didn't have the time. Something about the sobs egged him on though, curiosity and memory getting the better of him. His mother had sobbed like this before. His beautiful, sweet angel of a mother had sobbed like this at the hands of his father. Alastor grimaced, his smile shifting again, as close to a frown as it ever got. His shadow glanced at him, ears twitching as it felt the emotion through their connection. The memory of it added an urgency to his pace he hadn't expected. He would take a quick look, intervene only if necessary and be about his business. Afterall, he doubted he knew any souls on this side of town worth caring for. There was no real need to get involved, just curiosity.
Once in the alleyway the source of the disturbance became apparent. Sitting in a charred patch of concrete, naked and sobbing was the tiniest sinner he'd ever seen. She was maybe three feet tall, though it was hard to tell with the way she'd curled in on herself, knees pulled up to her chest, head bent down. Her hands gripped desperately at her red hair, threatening to pull it out with every shake of her body. She had one large orange eye that was wide with panic, tears streaming helplessly down her cheeks as she sobbed. She was by far the most pitiful sight Alistor had ever laid eyes on, and he knew in that moment there was no way he could leave her there.
Never before had he cared for an instant what happened to a new soul. Never before had he given them a second thought that wasn't a hungry one. Something about this tiny, helpless little thing broke him though. In that instant the Radio Demon knew tonight's broadcast would just have to be a repeat and his business would just have to wait.