Chapter Text
Alastor glared daggers behind his hand toward the fluffy-haired male. Yet, the smile on his face had yet to falter. He pushed his glasses up his nose, playing it off. He sat across from Anthony, who had a bright smile on his face. Freckles were scattered across his nose and cheeks, causing the individual to be even more distracting in Alastor's eyes.
And the was what infuriated him. He had never felt this way before and he was compelled to kill Anthony even more because of it. He wanted to kill him so bad, to see the life drain from his bright hazel eyes. He had become excellent at hiding his anger over the years. Alastor's features supported a blank smile while internally he was just itching to grab a knife.
Anthony looked up to him from his book, a soft smile dancing across his lips. It really disgusted him how innocent he was.
Alastor attempted to shake the thoughts from his head as he straightened his posture, making him even taller than before. The sweater vest that he wore had pinstripes, and his bowtie was a deep black. He had a comfortable style that allowed him to blend into a crowd.
God, why did he have to work with Anthony? He never fully understood why killed until now; to throw sentimental value out the window. And the chill that was sent down his spine as he plunged a knife into his victims was so gratifying, he didn't have sexual needs. All he had was the urge to take others' pityful lives.
•
After his shift, he waited outside the radio station, knowing Anthony would always be the last one to leave. With quiet and carefully placed steps, he approached Anthony from behind. Alastor's smile was wider than ever as he knew that his co-worker's final hour was upon him.
He held the chloroform soaked rag tightly in his hand, he wrapped an arm around Anthony's waist while the other covered his mouth. Muffled screams escaped from under his hand while Anthony clawed at his arms, struggling, just before Anthony gave in to the darkness.
•
Anthony awoke in Alastor's basement, arms and legs restrained to the chair he was placed in. He struggled to cry out, only causing tears to fall. His eyeliner smeared with his tears, his beautiful brown eyes looking even better with tears flowing.
Alastor allowed his grip to tighten around the kitchen knife in his hand. He was so eager to have the blood start flowing. Anthony's heart dropped when his eyes fell upon Alastor. He trusted him.
He raised the knife to Anthony's throat, and a shudder ripped throughout his body. His heart was beating so rapidly, Alastor could almost hear it. And he loved it. The adrenaline was pumping through his veins already.
“Please don't, Alastor,” Anthony pleaded between cries, as if that would stop Alastor from ending his life.
A spark flashed behind Alastor's eyes, and he nearly considered letting him go. He reached down to pull the gag away from Anthony's mouth. Showing fake remorse, he softened his tone of voice, “No.” he said simply.
At that, he moved the knife down and stabbed into Angel's chest, right where his heart laid. He gasped is pain before quickly going limp. A relatively painless death.
And that's what Anthony gets for trusting the bastard. He would never trust again. Never make that same mistake.
•
Alastor had never wondered where his victims went after death. Never quite possibly wondered where he would go after he died. He never even thought about his own death. In a way, he thought that he was immortal.
Boy, was he wrong.
He suddenly knew what it felt to have your skin ripped from your muscle. What it felt to have a bullet pierce through his skull. And what it felt like to die. And be dragged to hell after.
Everything hurt, his smile was long gone and the torment of the fall seemed never ending. But once he hit the ground, everything seemed off. He looked at his shaky hands and the once bright colour of his skin was faded into a dull gray. His glasses were replaced with a monocle and he had a tail.
Alastor's hands wandered to his head. And ears! He steadied himself as he stood taller than his usual height. He felt.. confident. That smile of his returned wider than ever before. An immediate rush of pride washed over him. He liked this. Maybe a little too much.
He saw a cat-like creature nearby, “You, sir!” His voice was warbly and deeper than before but still his nonetheless.
Husk turned to him with an expression that said whatthefuckdoyouwant.
“You're with me now.” Alastor said with confidence drenching his staticy tone. Exasperation filled Husk's face as he began to swear at the radio demon.