Chapter Text
Alastor hummed to himself as he stirred one of the pots he had fulfilling the task of creating breakfast. He quite liked making breakfast. Charlie had allowed him to take the job once Niffty put cockroaches in the gelatin too many times.
Angel Dust was probably the only one who could also be eligible for the task, as far as Alastor knew. But when asked, the spider said he wouldn't be the most motivated candidate. So, the Radio demon was given the status as chef. Under the rule that he didn't put cannibalistic material in the meals.
Oh if only they knew…
Now Alastor sighed, he would have to finish breakfast and leave it out for the hotel residents to help themselves. He wouldn't be able to make it to breakfast today.
See, not that he wanted to miss breakfast. Demolish the thought! But, he also hated being late. Especially to the location he would be arriving at in this example.
Not in quite a few years had he missed a breakfast he made. Once he took that job at the hotel he tried his best to make sure he didn't miss a single one.
This would be suspicious. Annoyingly suspicious. Hard to hide suspicious.
He couldn't make that kind of suspicion a habit.
Sure he liked being suspicious, it was part of the charm! And he quite liked the skill he had gained over years of perfecting this skill.
His old line of work quite demanded it.
But something as weighted but simple as never missing a breakfast was something absurdly easy to notice, and that was quite annoying.
See, Alastor didn't care much. He enjoyed the cooking aspect most, not the eating.
But just the implications of this event would be difficult to contain. To ignore. To keep the mask of normalcy for long enough that his entire plan did not fall apart.
Then again though, as someone would say, “overthinking makes everyone else think more.”
And sadly, Alastor couldn't have that!
He was sure nobody would question it too much, hopefully. He disappeared quite frequently after all! But the problem, is his disappearances were usually mentioned, random, and not consistent. The next few days would be none of those things. And the least amount of suspicious questions the better.
Another problem was this group had a tendency to pry.
The deer could do nothing but hope he would figure things out as he plated and set the table before departing.
Hell's streets were never the most pleasant places, but they were far from the least pleasant.
Alastor himself could think of much worse places to be.
His least favorite part by far, was seeing people engaging in intimate and very private activities openly. Sometimes even on display. Encouraged to be looked at.
This was definitely Alastor's least favorite thing about existing in this era.
Such meaningful, close, intimate and distastefully glamorized activities had become quite the attraction.
He found it distasteful.
Removing himself from that thought, he spotted someone from Cannibal Town, Candace her name was? On a walk. They greeted each other as they passed.
Alastor could never understand them, but he always respected them. And they always respected him. Well, all but one, her name was Susan.
Susan and Alastor didn't get along.
Alastor didn't mind. They didn't need to get along. The only time he ended up near her was in Rosie's Emporium. And Alastor never willingly interacted with her.
She did like to talk to him though.
Nevertheless, Alastor had a job to do! No getting distracted in unimportant and simply unreasonably random activities.
He had places to be.
Whether he wanted to go to those places or not.
Walking to the Heaven embassy would be way too open and obvious. And Alastor couldn't risk that. Vox had little quirk of stalking.
And today would be the worst time to see a drone had followed him just a bit too far.
Alastor: “Stupid television.” (Alastor muttered)
So instead he found a long and dark alleyway, very conveniently placed. And quite the perfect timing as well.
Making sure he wasn't followed was easy, everybody in Hell either scared to death of him, or knew when to mind their business.
One of the good things about this place, he assumed.
Now the only problems were the annoying drones that had been trailing him since he first joined the hotel!
And it wasn't that they were anywhere near actual problems either. He easily destroyed them.
The problem was that the pesky little things would alert their master, who would be a pain in the back to deal with later.
Just his luck, he supposed.
And just his luck once again, considering this would take a few weeks, it would be suspicious enough just for the coming overlord meeting to end in him being followed and harassed.
Not the first time.
See not that Alastor couldn't handle Vox himself. He could with ease, actually.
The difficulty stemmed from keeping his mouth shut.
His current fad was telling everyone and anyone everything and anything.
And then bragging about it.
His threats were always empty in public.
All hat, no cattle.
Now, suppose the only obstacle now was actually stepping through the portal he conjured for himself!
Gold was never his favorite color.
And it never would be.
He quietly stepped inside.
The bright colors were something nobody would miss.
The voices though…
Sera: “Alastor, welcome back.”