Chapter Text
"OH FUCK, THIS IS BETTER THAN SEX!"
...
"YESS FUCK YOU ALASTOR AHAHA!"
...
"NO! FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU, PUSSY!"
Tonight was truly… quite a handful, wasn’t it?
Well, that asshole had it coming to him and his huge fuckin’ ego.
Must be real stupid if he thought he could beat the first man so easily; not so great and powerful now are we?
Honestly, it was such a satisfying sight to see a person, not just any person but a certain someone finally put in their goddamn place for once!
And it was worth it. Worth watching over the man for all this time, watching him be so confident just for downfall…And the best part? He was the only one who failed! He failed, crawling back to his ridiculously shitty hotel, to his pathetic little redemption club friends! And them? It was an utter shock how many exterminators they killed so effortlessly! Fuck, even the pornstar shot through about a hundred angels!
Shocking. And what left some people, a group of three, named Vox, Velvette , and Valentino, in specific even more flabbergasted was that Alastor, the great big radio demon, the brutally vile overlord that could slaughter you in a split second of you dare test him… couldn’t even take down one angel? Wow!
Embarrassing...
It was so embarrassing it was laughable even!
Who’s pathetic now, huh Alastor?
Well, tonight was quite the handful indeed, and the end of the extermination called for a stroll around pride.
I get to my toes, arising from the dark, navy couch, making a slight creak sound.
Val and Velvette had gone to get some rest, so it was the perfect opportunity to get some fresh air.
I approach the door, pulling the doorknob gently before shutting it behind me.
Palms stained with blood and sweat wipe upon the beaten up wood that was once called my desk. My eyes darted around the crushed remains of the room which was my radio tower. No longer one that I recognised, but one that caused me a headache to stay even a moment in.
Razor-like claws crawl like spiders up my scalp, clutching crimson locks into a tight fist, before slowly tearing out chunks and releasing them. I don’t bother to watch them fall beneath me to the cold, scarlet painted floor.
I’d already felt sick and nauseous at the mere idea of how I risked my own afterlife for the excuse of ‘friends’.
‘Friends’ who I swore I was just exploiting for my own personal gain. ‘Friends’ who I had clearly grown fond of to the point I had grown weak.
This was not my plan. My plan was not to feel any remorse or attachment to that hotel, nor the people that stayed there. And I felt disgusted and ashamed at myself for doing so.
Just the sight of the destroyed radio tower perfectly added to the sense of defeat and distress; clearly shown in widened, blood red eyes shown in the red-tinted fragmented glass of what was once a window, which displayed a kaleidoscope of reflections, each one seemingly leering back at me.
And to top it all off, I could just feel the blood pour down from the large wound across my abdomen; a slice that opened up layers of skin, stinging and throbbing painfully; ensuring to leave behind an awfully tormenting cramp. I reach out, grasping at the desk beside me, and placed a firm palm, using it to get to my feet; only to sink back into my knees. A loud thud makes my ears twitch, as i fell hard on the floor, fingers against my scalp when I see everything around me spin.
I felt faint and dizzy, unable to properly look at anything without eyes half lidding.
I sit there for a moment. Even after all the agony and discomfort, I sit with a smile.
That wretched smile. The smile that was always pinned to my face. One I was never able to peel off, or let rest.
They say that a smile is a valuable tool, a sign of happiness and fulfilment. Satisfaction.
But this was not the case for me.
For me, a smile was just a mask that was screwed onto my face permanently.
A curse that had been chained to my soul for all of eternity and my afterlife.
My eyes hesitantly gaze back into the repulsive reflection-blurred by the spirals in my head.
That smile was there. Wide, and tense. As though my life was on the line, along with the entire world if the grin ever dropped. The eyes, however, always showed all emotion that was needed to be told. Pitiful and disquieted.
This was me.
Alastor, the great big radio demon, the brutally vile overlord that could slaughter you in a split second of you dare test him.
That same demon, in the privacy of his crumbling radio tower was now resting his back against the wall, drenched in his own blood that oozed out of gaping tear in his torso. Feeling like he’ll pass out any moment, alone and vulnerable. smiling through the suffering like a freak.
A demon who knew he had to get out of his puddle of pain, and go back to the hotel like nothing happened, like he was alright. Going back to the very place that got him in this shitty situation.
He felt absolutely fucking pathetic. Humbled. Embarrassed and ashamed.
That demon was indeed I.
That demon was pathetic.
I am pathetic.
That’s how I feel.
But I cannot help but allow my mind to go blank, for my eyes force themselves to shut down and I feel my breath go slow.
I walked around, a light breeze of wind blowing on my screen. The night that had been fine before, seemed dull and heavy in contrast. I quietly observe my surroundings. The sound of people fucking and fighting, faint noise of music coming from clubs, and a wide, flashy screen of mine catches my eye. It displays the news.
The picture on the green screen shows a new and improved version of the dustbin hotel. I had to admit, it was pretty good for Little Miss Bleeding-heart’s ridiculous idea of rehabilitation.
I continue with my stroll, deciding to move elsewhere…I needed a break from the raucous and noise going on.
You know what?
I’m going to go in the direction of the hotel.
Why?
Because, uhm…I dunno. It’s on the quieter side of pentagram city, and I think it would be pretty funny to see Alastor’ sold radio tower completely crushed.
I find myself walking for a while, pulling my hand out my pocket to check the Vox tech watch on my wrist. 1:55am. I left the house at 1:10. Been out here for a some time,huh? I continue walking for a few minutes, before I stop.
I stumble upon the hotel.
Or what where... the ruins of the old hotel.
My pixel eyes scan the area somewhat cautiously, and yet with curiosity. And I resumed my stroll, subconsciously treading more wearily than before - following an invisible trail and slowly unearthing the scraps of the old and recognisable building, in which I had felt a little nostalgia when I walked past the shattered windows and smashed doorframe of the rooms. Funny, because I was never even a part of their stupid rehabilitation centre… Yet I had grown used to seeing it all over on my office screen, via cctv drones.
I gazed in front of me, and there it was. Alastor's old radio tower. Broken and defeated, crashed into the ground like when a small part of a cliff dropped down from a large height.
It was almost camouflaged into the night sky, with its all crimson coloured tinted windows, walls, everything. It blended in perfectly with the clear sky, I almost couldn't tell the difference. I honestly wouldn't have noticed the tower at first. But then I scrutinized it for a moment. Taking in every little detail.
The shards of glass scattered across the dusty floor. The broken and misplaced wooden planks that fell off the bottom of the walls. The flickering, low light of the LED sign. Papers that covered areas of the floor, some of which were stained with spilt coffee. Holes in the ceiling, the cut-outs laying all over the now wrecked broadcasting station. The broadcasting station that I helped build all those years ago.
I layed my eyes upon it for a moment. Anyway, enough of that. It wasn't important to me anyway…
I step even more towards the broken radio tower, moving with vigilance. As my eyes dart around,
I stop.
…
I can see…
…A figure.
I look closely...examining the shadow
And my eyes widen.
The figure was oddly familiar. One that I had known.
It was the carmine figure of Alastor. Alastor was there, laying with his back against the wall, a pool of blood and gore dripping down his already red suit.
I didn’t realise my eyes were widened till I glanced at my reflection in one of the broken windows.
Hesitantly, I stalked closer to him. I looked the demon up and down, cardinal colored eyes shutting to reveal falu eyelids; clots of dried blood stuck in ruffled and messed up hair, ears pinned back to his skull and slight cracks in his antlers.
He sat there almost motionlessly, If it weren't for his smile.
It was a chillingly uncanny smile.
I pinched myself on the arm, questioning whether or not my rival sitting right in front of me, beneath my feet was real, or if I was just hallucinating.
Because he did not seem real at this moment.
The smile didn't seem real at all.
Not of someone with feelings made of flesh and blood, but of a dummy-stick. Of a person in my stead. A prop who wore a smile screwed in its face.
My mind went blank as I stared at him. I hadn’t seen the man in such a wounded and injured state in years. It felt as though I was seeing him like this for the first time in my afterlife.
I thought to myself for a moment, before slowly stepping back, turning my back...
Why the fuck should I help him? He’s literally my goddamn rival. I’ll never forget the way he treated me, and the fact I loved him in a sick, hurt, desperate way. Like a child or a dog. It did not matter to him because it was not enough. Nothing i did was ever enough. And he did not deserve that appallingly absurd and twisted love i had for him ever again. He could rot there, soaked in his blood, decaying slowly and painfully before he dies, for all I care.
And began walking in the direction I came from...
My feet stop moving in my tracks, of course they do...
I turned my head around once more, gazing at him. And I felt as if a huge wave of guilt washed over me. That I had to take responsibity. And that I couldn’t just leave him there to rot, soaked in his blood, decaying slowly and painfully before he dies. Because i did care.
And no matter how much I denied and refused, I did not want him to die. In fact; I needed him to live. And I didn’t even know why. It wasn’t as if we were even friends anymore. We did not even speak to each other. We no longer sat with each other in overlord meetings. We no longer worked together. We no longer spent time together. It was as though we were strangers again. Yet I still cared. And I always will.
Quiet footsteps make slight creaks against the floor, as I slowly yet carefully approach Alastor.
I should hate myself for doing this.
“tch...”
I bring one arm under his knees, and the other around his waist, reluctant at first; but then continuing with circumspect, before lifting the body up, a few drops of blood dropping onto the floor.
“fuckin asshole...”