Chapter Text
Prologue
Alastor took to the hallways like a housecat in search of entertainment. He advanced with a destination in mind and hummed softly to himself as he walked. He made up unique tunes to the beat of his footsteps, swinging his cane to lyrics only he and his pets could understand.
Shadows scattered across the walls, eagerly following him to the lobby. Alastor stopped when he arrived, Peeking out from behind the wall of the hallway, just barely in sight, he observed the state of the hotel on this new day.
The sight that greeted him was like every day before. Angel Dust was nodding off on the couch, colorful eyes half-lidded and locked on the television screen. Husk was at his bar, slumped over his drink with one eye closed and the other fixated on a far wall. Neither Charlie nor Vaggie were anywhere to be seen, presumably fornicating and or going over hotel business, like usual.
Said business was agonizingly slow; As Alastor predicted it would be a year ago. They gained one other resident within that year, and he was the physical embodiment of anxiety and stayed locked in his given room during all hours of the day. There was little to nothing to do here, and believe him; Alastor had already done his fair share of pestering the newbie before that in itself grew dull.
Ignoring the only other demons in the lobby, [He didn't want to talk to those degenerates anyway.] Alastor slipped from his hiding spot and headed for the main doors. He would either take a pleasant stroll down the streets of Hell or go on a killing spree. He wasn't sure which one he was up for yet. Still, he supposed he'd figure it out eventually.
With a wave of his microphone, Alastor summoned a portal behind him, calling a shadow to assist him with opening the door while he approached it; he reached the door with a furrow of his brows when his shadow had yet to open it for him.
Now that was strange, the creatures from the void were always excited to offer their aid to him in exchange for momentary freedom from that dark, isolated place. Had it not heard the unspoken command in his mind? Had anyone even come from the portal? Where did the others go?
Alastor spun around to address the possibly confused shadow; his mouth hung open, disoriented static burst around him that almost appeared to echo off whatever it was before him. The words in his mouth refused to spill.
At a sharp glance, one would have thought the being in front of him was a shadow, with the long, black torso that flowed into an inky puddle at their feet, but as Alastors gaze traveled up the abnormally tall darkness, it became apparent that said shadow, was no shadow at all.
A bone-white face glanced around the lobby, a small purple heart for a pupil rapidly darted across the interior of the room. His sharp mouth stretched into a surprised grin, and he stood utterly still. Long arms were pulled up in front of his chest, left to dangle like the creature didn't know what to do with his appendages.
Finally, those eyelights met his, and it gave the Radio Demon the fuel he needed to speak. Excitement thrilled inside of his dead soul.
Finally something interesting!
"Well, what a surprise this is!" Alastor announced, sliding up to the creature who bent away from his advance. Alastor circled the long thing, and it took only a moment for him to conclude that it was alive, not dead, like everything else he'd pulled from the void. This was no demon, but a living, soulful being who did not belong here.
The closer Alastor got, the further the skeleton creature shrunk away from him; amazingly expressive sockets shifted through several different emotions at once, though his mouth retained its sharp, almost shy grin. Fear, excitement, disbelief. He practically expected the being to bolt at any given moment, so he stopped his inspecting. Alastor would rather fuel his interest, than place terror as he was used to doing.
He looked solid, though an itch in the back of Alastor's mind told him he was not. He wore a long black labcoat that appeared to melt into his body, with a pale cream-white scarf around his neck. The hands of the creature twitched, Alastor noted, with deep consideration that he could see through them, they had holes.
How strange.
How exciting.
"My, My." Alastor crooned, he leaned towards the skeleton, as far as his body would allow. "Now, how'd you end up in there?"
The skeleton raised his holed hands and began gesturing passionately. Alastor stared at the appendages, watching them flow in movements that must have been impeccably practiced. The demon stood there patiently, barely blinking while he waited for the hands to still. When they finally halted, Alastor tilted his head inquisitively; his fluffy ears bounced to the side at the movement.
Alastor blinked.
The creature's single eye light flickered right back at him.
...
"I regret to inform you that I have no idea what you just said!" The demon purred out, most proudly. The skeleton in question pulled back with a slight scowl upturning his features; He pressed a strange hand to his forehead in what could only be assumed as annoyance.
He began to gesture again, Slower this time. His body was bobbing from left to right, unbalanced on his... feet~ puddle?
-Nam- GASTER. -machi- trap--snow-Where?-
Alastor blinked, gathering only a small portion of the gestures the man who spoke in hands used to communicate with him. He hadn't expected to understand at all, so imagine Alastors joy when he heard a broken up voice in his mind, like waterlogged static. The sound was deep and hollow, with a hidden accent that made him sound intelligent. This was so fascinating!
"Gaster, you say?" To answer this, Gaster nodded several times in short, excitable succession, the skeleton moved foreword, stepped back, moved foreword again, his body mass shifting and molding to his movements.
Where? -Time-?
With a bark of a laugh, Alastor straightened. He pressed his cane against his chest. "Currently, It is Twelve forty-five!" He swept out his microphone in a grand gesture, turning to face the lobby, neither Angel Dust nor Husk appeared to notice their newest guest. And Husk was staring in their direction, for Satan's sake! "The weather is cloudy, with a chance of mass genocide, and you, my friend, Are in Hell."
Gaster tensed, his curious eye light searched Alastors large deer eyes, flickering from one to the other as if trying to find a hidden lie. Alastor waited for some kind of reply and said response came when the skeleton hastily and unexpectedly melted into a pool on the floor then disappeared.
Calm static filtered through the empty room as the Radio Demon stared down at the carpet where the mysterious anomaly had been moments before.
Was it something he had said?
It must have been something he said.
This was much more enjoyable than yet another day of installing fear into the residents of Hell.
Fixing his coat, Alastor turned away from the front doors and openly slunk his way around the hotel, his eyes were locked on the corners, searching through each spot of darkness for a cracked face, and a ragged smile.