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malaysianpeanut · 10 months ago

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That Afternoon - A Hazbin Hotel fanfic

Summary: A one-shot story of Alastor when he was still alive when he knew of a young girl who has an attachment to him due to her trying to escape her own harsh life. In this story, he is burying his last body at the current town he lived in as he says his goodbyes to the girl, while he reminisced about his first meeting with her.

Note:

I've been into Hazbin Hotel recently thanks to my friend, and Alastor is my favorite character from the show. I was going through many videos and sites exploring his lore so I thought it'd be interesting to have my character interact with him in his human life, and I just thought to make it more interesting with crossing over of his "criminal" life. If this gets hits, I will expand on my character more, because I have some stories about her too. :)

I'm not sure if this is meant to be a romance. At the very least, I think Alastor would have some fondness over my character, but not romantically or sexually. Just maybe caring and protective for her like a special friend or family.

The story

It was a time during the late 1920s, somewhere in the state of Louisiana, at a small town. It's another one of those hot, late afternoons, where the sun was starting reach the horizon to set. In a swamp nearby, there was a man, all alone. Well, he was alone now, but earlier, there was another man, who used to be alive. Now, there was only one. And this person in question, who was alive and well, was a man named Alastor. He was a tall man, his age somewhere in his late twenties. He had a tan skin and dark brown hair, a pair of glasses framing his eyes, and wearing a rather smart outfit, consisting of a crisp white shirt, with the sleeves folded, a tweed vest, brown slacks and black loafers. However, his hygiene could have been better, as he was covered in some splotches of blood and some dirt, whilst he was digging up the ground in front of him. It was a rather large hole too, fit for a body. Specifically, the body of the other man, who Alastor eyed from the side as he kept on digging the ground with his shovel. It was a rather... tiring day today.

He stopped after deciding that the hole was big enough and tossed the shovel at the side. The man who was now dead was cut up into multiple pieces. His legs and arms were missing, only leaving his head and his torso lying on a piece of cloth on the ground next to the hole. The sight was quite gruesome for anyone who might stumble into it, but to Alastor, this was just another Tuesday. As he took a moment to breathe, he noticed a presence nearby. He could tell just by seeing a figure peeking out from the corner of the trees, as well as hearing some faint sounds of footsteps behind him. He had a feeling he knew who it was, but just in case, he grabbed the knife from his back pocket and slowly approached one of the trees behind him, taking slow steps with the intention to intimidate, as well as to harm. As soon as he reached the tree, he skulked around the corner and saw a young girl, nearing her twenties, with a rather fair but dirty skin and messy long black hair tied loosely behind her. She was wearing a white shirt, torn and patched in come places with a dusty old skirt reaching below her knees. She stared back at Alastor, with wide eyes, seemingly terrified. But a moment later, she glanced at the body on the ground next to the hole and pointed to it.

"Who's that?" She asked with a soft, almost whispery voice. Her expression changed to one with more curiousity and wonder, rather than horror.

Alastor glared at this girl in front of him for a moment, and then backed off, rolling his eyes in the process. He had no energy to even react to her presence right now, and walked back to what he was doing.

"Marcella... How many times I've got to tell you? I don't want you around when I'm 'working'. Go home," he exhaustingly greeted her as he covered the body with the cloth. The girl, named Marcella, walked over to him nonchalantly, as if this sight was something of a norm to her.

"I'm bored, Mr. L," she replied, with a hint of Cajun accent. "I don't really want to be in my house right now."

"Your father around?" He asked as he tossed the body into the hole. He knew that Marcella's father wasn't a kind man, and would always pick on her when they were both home.

"He's at work. I just wanna take a walk while waiting for my shift at the club later," she answered with a bright tone, and a smile on her face. Alastor glanced at her, wondering how she could always be this happy, when he knew how much she was going through at home. Nevertheless, he looked at the body in the hole and turned to her.

"Fine. If you're going to be here, at least make yourself useful and help me cover this up," he handed her the shovel while he retrieved another one from another spot. She gladly grabbed it and started shoveling the dirt back into the hole as the dirt covered the remains bit by bit. Alastor joined her shortly and shoveled some dirt into the hole as well. Marcella stopped for a moment and looked at Alastor, with a quizzical expression.

"Who is this again?" She asked, trying to probe the answer out from Alastor. He momentarily looked at her, wondering what he should say. But he eventually decided he was just going to tell the truth. Albeit, maybe a shortened version.

"Just some nobody," he replied. Marcella raised her eyebrow, having some doubts. For all she knew, he had always went after those who had some sketchy activities, though he himself was a suspicious person as well.

"What'd he do?" She continued. Alastor was starting to get annoyed, feeling as if he was being interrogated. But nonetheless, he humoured her and gave a short, ambiguous answer in return.

"Oh nothing much. Just... looked at someone in a funny way," he answered her again, this time with a smile.

He knew the full story. He was in a club downtown when the man was present. He saw what the man had done. He eyed some girls in a grotesque manner, tried touching some waitresses and other patrons without their consent and even pinned a girl against the wall whilst trying to assault her. Alastor felt that he did what was necessary. Marcella was not one to miss any hidden meanings, and knew there was more than just "looking at someone funny", but she decided to drop the subject and continued helping him bury the body. Alastor shifted his gaze at her while he covered the hole with dirt, as he remembered back to the first time that they had met, both him and Marcella.

...........

It was dark, late at night, nearing 12AM. The perfect time for hunting in the bayou. And for Alastor, there was a prey right ahead of him, just awaiting his death. The man was a scrawny thin man, who often scammed people out of their money on the streets and living off of what little wealth they had. Alastor had been keeping a close eye on him when he was out and about at night and he did not like what he was seeing. Then on this night, he decided that it was enough. This man was going to stop his scams, whatever means that Alastor was going to find necessary. He had been chasing him down to the wood intentionally with a knife in his hand, while the man was fleeing in fear. Although Alastor himself wasn't a man made of muscles, he was a rather tall man, and that was enough to instill any kind of fear in anyone.

In another part of the wood, was Marcella, who was spending some time being away from her house, which wasn't very far from where she was. She was crying in pain, from her body and her heart. Her father had once again, hit her hard for a mistake she couldn't even remember doing while she was the house. So many times in her mind, she was thinking of running away, never returning, but where would she even go? And often times, when she was in this situation, she would take about an hour to be by herself, crying and thinking on her next course of actions, and eventually come to the conclusion that she should just go home and sleep it off, like she often would. But just as she got up and was about to walk away, she heard some noises coming closer to where she was. She remained cautious and hid behind a tree, as she saw a man, the same scrawny one that Alastor was pursuing, coming out from a bush on her left and going off up ahead.

S he walked backwards slowly, and was about to leave the scene due to her paranoia of what was going on, but suddenly stumbled into someone behind her. She jumped to the front, creating a distance between her and whatever was behind her. She looked up and saw Alastor, who had a serious, menacing look on his face. She felt scared looking at him, and she should be, for Alastor was holding a knife behind his back. He on the other hand, was wondering whether he should put an end to this girl's life in front of him, but decided moments later that it was not worth the energy and he had to deal with his initial target first. He suddenly plastered on a huge smile and tried his best to emit a pleasant vibe through his expression. But Marcella still felt threatened by his demeanour.

"I'm sorry, did you happen to see a man coming through here? Skinny, wearing a cheap suit, looking scared for his life?" He asked her in an upbeat tone in his voice. She was puzzled for a moment, and then pointed to the direction where she last saw the man went off to. Alastor looked over to where she pointed and turned his head back to her, never taking his smile off from his face.

"Thank you, my dear," he thanked her shortly and walked away towards the direction of where the man was headed, leaving Marcella, who was baffled at what was happening.

A few minutes later, the man was cornered at the corner of the forest, with thick trees and shrubs in front of him. The man turned and saw Alastor approaching him, with his tall thin silhouette almost seemingly appearing like a shadow creature. Alastor thought he had the upper hand as he slowly walked over to him with the knife in his hand, but suddenly, the man smiled and took out something from inside his jacket. It turned out to be a handgun. Alastor was not prepared for this and felt shocked at the sight but what came next was even out of the ordinary for him. Just as the man was pointing his gun to Alastor and wanting to pull the trigger, he was knocked on the head from behind and he fell to the ground, unconscious. Alastor stared at the man on the ground momentarily and then looked up to see who was the culprit. It turned out the be the girl from earlier, Marcella. She was holding a thick branch, shaking a little bit as she saw what her actions had done and she looked at Alastor, wide-eyed and confused. He was just as puzzled and didn't know what he should be doing next.

...........

Alastor was now covered in the man's blood, as he was bent down on the ground, cutting up the man's arms and legs off from his body. He had hidden some tools all over the forest and managed to find some near where the man was knocked out. He intended to use those body parts for some... "other reason", of course. And as for the rest of the man's body, they were at his disposal and not needed. This was a routine whenever he would do this particular activity. However, today was different. Today, he had a witness right in front of him, and he didn't know what to do with her. She didn't seem scared to see him doing this horrific thing, rather, she had on a curious expression on her face and was just staring at him the whole time. Alastor narrowed his eyes at her, seemingly trying to warn her.

"You may go now, girl. I'll let you live as thanks for your actions earlier," he told her, trying to sound as pleasant as possible. But she didn't budge and leaned in with her elbows on the log in front of her.

"It's fine. I don't really wanna go home right now," she stared even harder at Alastor and moments after, at the body he was cutting up. Alastor felt weirded out more and more by her actions, but nonetheless, because of the time constraint, he just went on with what he was doing. After he finished cutting the man's arms and legs and wrapping them up in some thick pieces of cloth and putting them in a bag, he got up, slapping some dirt off of his body and turned to the girl with a glare in his eyes, but a plastered on grin.

"Now then," Alastor opened up a conversation between him and the Marcella. "I am grateful for your assistance earlier, but let's just try to keep this between us, shall we?"

"Sure," Marcella surprisingly had a nonchalant, simple answer, despite everything that had happened. It wasn't as if what she had seen wasn't horrific to her, it was just that, it was at least something exciting that had happened to distract her from what happened at her house a few hours earlier. Alastor grabbed the man's other body parts that he didn't need and wrapped them hastily in the other cloths. He walked over to the edge of the water and tossed them over, presumably feeding them to the gators. He turned to the girl, who looked as if she was waiting for his instructions, like a lost child, despite her looking like she was old enough to get married.

"This has been fun. Like I mentioned before, all that has happened tonight shall remain in silence. You understand that now, dear?" Now, Alastor was speaking with a different tone, a voice that sounded more threatening than earlier. However the girl was fazed and simply nodded in agreement.

"Of course. I ain't no idiot," her reply startled Alastor a bit. From assuming she was simply an airhead who happened upon his murder scene, he now thought the girl must at least have some sense of what's going on. He pondered for a moment, wondering whether he should get rid of this witness as well, but his gaze fell on her clothes. They were tattered, torn a little here and there and looked old and worn out in general. He was under the impression that she was of a poor background and a lower class in society, and probably had no influence whatsoever if she were to tell about tonight's incidents. He let out a small sigh, shaking away the thought and returned back to his smiling facade.

"Wonderful," he exclaimed. "Well, I supposed we should be on our separate ways," he told her, wanting her to leave.

Marcella got the hint, and shrugged, turning around to walk back to her house. This was a strange and gruesome night indeed, but at least it took her attention away from the earlier incident that caused her to flee to this forest in the first place. Now she had to go back, but at least she could go back to sleep immediately and linger on what had happened tonight. The chase, the murder... The man who committed it. She stopped in her tracks and turned back to Alastor, who was strangely still standing there, as if waiting for her to get out of sight before he himself would leave. She smiled at him, in a way, grateful for taking her mind off of things.

"What's your name, sir?" She asked. Alastor didn't know whether he should respond. If he didn't, it would probably prompt her to ask again and he was already annoyed enough. He decided to give her an ambiguous answer that she would surely be satisfied with.

"You can just call me, Al. No more, no less," he answered with good humour.

"L? Like the letter?" She questioned again, to which Alastor almost had to laugh at. Perhaps he gave her too much credit for having a bit of intelligence before, but at least she was entertaining.

"Sure. Let's go with that," he replied and waved her goodbye. She gave out a small giggle and waved back at him as she turned to walk away. Alastor thought to himself, this poor girl, almost having no clue what was going on despite seeing it as clear as day. He was so piqued by her, that he instinctually asked her back.

"What about you? To what name do I refer you with?" It wasn't common for him to be interested in someone, but this girl somehow amused and fascinated him all at once with her simple demeanour, especially when facing something as terrible as what he was doing. The girl paused for a moment, wondering if she should answer, but she assumed he would find out anyway even if she lied or didn't answer, so she decided to be honest with him.

"Marcella."

...........

Ever since that day, Marcella and Alastor have both stumbled upon more times in the same bayou, while he was doing the same thing: chasing his prey, killing them, and covering his tracks, while Marcella just watched him and sometimes even assisted him with burying the body or cleaning up, but never with the murder itself. Well, except maybe for the time when they first met, but even then, she had no idea what he was doing at first. Which made him wonder more and more about her life, and he asked her to share. She was reluctant the first time he had asked her, but eventually, she found it relieving to let out her woes. She told him about her living situation several times as they met. She had lived with only her father after her mother was gone when she was only ten years old. It was her job to take care of her father's needs. Food, cleanliness and... other things she was reluctant to talk about. And if her father was unhappy and drunk when he came home, he would berate her, beat her and even kick her out of the house, telling her he was sick of looking at her until the next day where he would be fine once again with her presence in the house. Marcella found comfort only in one thing, and that was her job and her love for playing music on the piano at the club in her town.

Upon listening to this, Alastor couldn't help but have some pity for her and even, to his dismay, grew an attachment to her. There were times when she wasn't around when he was doing his business in the bayou, and he would wonder where she was or whether she was alright. But the very next day, he would see her in the town where she lived when he dropped by and he knew at least, she was still surviving another day. There was more and more desire inside him to help her with her situation, but he himself was occupied with other things. Not just the murders, but his own personal life and career in the new entertainment medium, radio, which he was finding more and more passion to pursue. He started out in the town next to Marcella's, but he had heard of more opportunities in the bigger city, New Orleans, which he had expressed more desire to go to. He shared all this with Marcella as well, as he found it invigorating to talk about his dreams. Marcella would listen intently, feeling happy that he was talking to her more and more. Mostly, she was just happy to have a company she could talk to.

Back in the present, Alastor had finished with his business and both of them were resting on a log staring at the bayou water right in front of them, surrounded by tall trees giving some shade. Not that it mattered, it was almost dark as the sun was setting in the horizon. They could see a glimpse of fireflies coming out from the tall grass floating on top of the water. It was almost a beautiful view to take in, had it not been for the fact that the memory of what had happened earlier was lingering around. Still, both of them felt at peace looking at the sight. Alastor shared the meal he had brought with her: some sandwiches he had made earlier that day. He also figured that Marcella would probably bump into him that day, and at the very least, wanted to feed her some good food, to which he assumed, she was deprived of at home due to her lack of wealth. They were both sitting in silence as they ate their food and looked at the water.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable with the ongoing quiet that was harboring the atmosphere, Alastor turned to look at Marcella, wanting to strike up a conversation. But he noticed something on her wrist that was exposed because of her folded sleeves. It was some scars and bruises that seemed fresh and new. They looked as if something were tied to her wrist, like a rope. His eyes glanced momentarily at her face, and he spotted a cut scar on her cheek, as well as a faint bruise on her head. He frowned, growing concerned. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen it before, but today of all days, his worry was heightened over the fact that he was going to leave the town he was living in soon, and there was less chance for him to look out for her if he could. He put down his sandwich and rummaged in his bag. Marcella stopped as well and looked at him, wondering what he was doing. He took out some pieces of cloths and waved at her.

"Come closer," he ordered her in a gentle manner, to which she complied. She scooched closer to him on the log as he poured some water from his bottle onto the pieces of cloth and grabbed her wrist and held it out towards him, as he pressed the cloth on the bruises on her her wrist. She grimaced in pain, but endured it as she understood his intention to help her. Alastor shifted his eyes to hers, with a serious expression on his face.

"What happened this time?" He asked in a straightforward manner. She hesitated to answer, but sighed a moment later. There was no point in hiding anything from him. She rolled her eyes, and even managed a smile on her face. Her usual attempt at covering up her true feelings, but despite that, the smiles never could ease the pain away, no matter how many times she tried.

"The usual. He came back drunk in the morning and thought the breakfast I made was terrible. It was enough for him to do... this," she answered casually. But no matter how much ignorance she could try to conjure up from within her, she still cared and was hurt by her father's actions, and could never get used to them, even if it was a routine for her. Alastor lifted the wet cloth onto her face on her forehead where the bruise was. He lowered it down and looked in her eyes with a frown, but there was a small smile forming from the corner of his mouth. Unbeknownst to Marcella, there was a silent rage boiling inside of him as well.

"Say, where do you live, Cella?" Alastor asked out of the blue, which puzzled Marcella for a bit. "I might pay your father a little visit." Marcella was surprised at his request, and she caught him glancing at his knife at the side. She knew what he had meant then and felt panicked, jerking away from him.

"You don't have to worry," she tried to reassure him, with a nervous laughter and a shake to her head. "I can handle it."

"To what extent?" He asked her, this time with a serious tone and an expression to match. "How much more could you handle?" Marcella stared at his face, trying to analyze what exactly was Alastor feeling. He had certainly looked more worried than he had ever before. It wasn't as if he hadn't heard of the stories of her abuse from her, but this time, there was a different air to Alastor. Almost a certain kind of desperation. She looked away, and let down her shoulders in a heavy exhale.

"I know, I should leave. But... it's not like I have anywhere else to go, Mr. L," she muttered. But she shook her head, as if trying to get ahold of herself and not fall too deep into sadness and turned to Alastor with a smile. "I'll make a new life for myself some day. You'll see."

Alastor was constantly puzzled at her optimism, despite having to endure such harsh treatment from her only family member that she had to live with under the same roof. He put away the cloth into his bag and went over to his knife, putting it away into his bag as well. He turned over to Marcella, who was just looking at him the whole time and never keeping her eyes off of him. In a way, she had her own unsettling habits, but who was he to judge? And besides, the only look he would see from her eyes was a warm, adoring look. It was obvious to him that Marcella had developed some sort of fondness for him. And as much as he would not want to admit it, he too had developed similar feelings towards her, feeling the need to care for her, and even wanting to protect her. But he needed to remind himself that the life he chose for himself now was not a life he would like to share with anyone else. Trying to think of another subject to talk about, he noticed her tangled hair, despite being tied up with a hairband.

"You're going to the club later, right? Look at how messy you are with that hair," he gave a light comment, wanting to divert the attention away from what he was asking about before. Marcella stroked her hair, looking up to some strands over her forehead.

"I wanted to braid it, but I don't know how," she answered with a pout.

Alastor knew that Marcella had lost her mother since she was young, and she probably had little opportunities to learn more about how to be a proper lady, at least in the society's eyes. He walked over to behind her, combing her hair gently with his fingers and taking off the hairband. She allowed him to do whatever he wanted with her, having some sense what he was trying to do. Alastor braided her hair as neatly as he could, trying to neaten up some stray hairs into the braid. As he reached the end, he used the hairband to tie it up altogether. He walked over in front of Marcella, as he touched the braid and laid it on the right side of her shoulder all the way down below her chest, where her hair ends.

"There. I think it's better now," he commented with his usual, toothy grin. Marcella walked over to the water and looked at her reflection, with what little light she could see from the fireflies. She looked at herself, thinking that her hair looked so nice, and felt touched and happy all at once.

"I look real pretty," she quietly remarked about herself. Alastor heard what she had said though, and he could find himself genuinely smiling for once, as his gaze was kept on her the entire time. Marcella got up and wanted to thank him, but there was something on Alastor's mind that he immediately wanted to say to her, as he grabbed her hands and held it firmly in his.

"Cella, why don't you come with me to New Orleans? I'm gonna be working at this new company for their radio show, and they'd probably be looking for someone who has some talent in playing music. I don't really know anyone else who could be as good of a fit as you would be," Alastor proposed to her, and he had meant what he had said, as he had seen her play in the club one or two times and was enthralled by her musicality and her passion overall as she played. Marcella was speechless for a moment, as this was probably the moment she was looking for. The escape she had wanted. But somehow, deep in her heart, she knew that she was the one who had to make her path, and currently, her position was not exactly aligned with the situation she imagined herself would be in when she would finally leave the town forever. She returned Alastor's proposal with a smile, but lowered down her hands along with his.

"Mr. L, that sounds lovely... But..." Marcella trailed off, which made Alastor felt some disappointment. "Maybe next time." Alastor could only accept her decision with a heavy heart. After all, he was simply just a stranger that happened to know her. Who was he to interfere with her family and personal life? But despite the shady circumstances that they had known each other from, somehow they both had formed some kind of fondness towards one another. He decided to drop the news.

"This will be the last time we'll see each other. I'm going off to New Orleans tomorrow," he told her with a colder tone to his voice. Marcella felt her own heart dropped, but she knew her time with Alastor wouldn't last that long. If not for this reason, then possibly the authorities catching on to what he was doing in the bayou would have cut their time together short too. Thankfully, it was the former, as Marcella didn't want to see her friend behind bars. Despite her sadness starting to accumulate inside, she mustered up her usual smile and gave him a warm expression.

"Good luck with your radio show then!" She exclaimed in the happiest voice she could project. Alastor looked at her, slowly having his expression melt into a warmer one.

"You sure you won't come along?" He asked her again once more, with a shred of hope that perhaps, his insistence could persuade her. Unfortunately for him, she was shaking her head in rejection.

"Nah, not now. But I'll come over once I'm ready. I promise," she once again replied him with a bright tone to her voice. Alastor could manage a small smile as he grabbed his bag, turning to her.

"Whatever you want," he uttered as a reply. "I'll see you around, Cella."

He walked off, leaving her behind. After a few steps, he turned his head around, wanting to take one last look at her. She had on her usual smile, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. She was waving her hand as rapidly, saying farewell to the next time she would see him again. And she looked forward to that day.

However, that day never came. And the meeting they had this time, was the last time Alastor would ever see her alive.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #oc #fanfiction #one shot

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