Chapter Text
It was another shitty day in Hell. The sky was all blood-red with a pentagram sun and darted stars. The dirty air that teased the lungs to make you cough. Hell birds, tweets, and screeches filled the atmosphere as demons all over Pentagram megacity were all handling yesterday's yearly extermination. Dead, bloody bodies and rotting corpses were scattered all over the roadway, with some of them having angelic spears in either their chests or in their heads.
Some sinners were even outside to smoke cigarettes
Some cannibals were munching on the dead bodies, with the blood running down their jawline as they gulped down their raw flesh.
While others were recovering from this year's cleanse, coming out of their shelter or hiding spots,
The Overlords of Hell were still sitting comfortably in their lairs, all minding their own business and grumbling over the potential souls they own that might’ve gotten stabbed this year's extermination, much to their dismay.
Lights were then put on once the exorcist had flown back to Heaven, lighting up the city generously.
Yes, the same tired old routine after every extermination.
Except that Alastor, one of the Overlords and known as the Radio demon, was now walking out on a balcony that was attached to a large building that looked like a 1930s hotel; it was all finely crafted together according to his liking.
He leaned himself against the fence on the balcony, his red eyes wandering over the city with despair, knowing how many souls had died this year's clearance. Some of them are pure evil. Some of them are deserving of another chance at a better afterlife.
Although Alastor wasn’t the person to cry or willing to show himself too vulnerable, his eyes would almost, and I quote, ALMOST, well up with a few tears after each extermination. But he didn’t allow his personal feelings to get in the way of his duties as Hell's radio host as he summoned his microphone staff in his clawed hand in a dust of red and black dust.
He steadied his nerves before using his other hand to clear his throat before tapping on his mic to make sure it was on and raising to his mouth so all of Hell would hear him.
” Greeting Hells people. It is I, Alastor who’s sending live to inform you that this year's extermination is officially over, meaning it’s safe to come out now. More news later this afternoon.”
And so he ended his life speaking and faded his staff away with a swing gesture of his hands before he again leaned onto the fence, fiddling his hands with furrowed eyebrows.
Today was the day.
Today was their one chance to show everyone in Hell about the hotel and, at best, get some actual guests who seek redemption.
He just had to hope that it would happen.
Nothing had to go wrong that day.