#There was also a gun range in the area and deer everywhere

[fightclubcat]

HEADCANNON THYME

Charlie was born in North Jersey. His parents were murdered by an unknown individual when he was 4. After this, Charlie was raised by his uncle in Bangor, Pennsylvania.

[kathyprior4200]

Alastor’s Death (Video Killed The Radio Star)

Nineteen thirty three

 “Police, open up!”

  A loud banging awakened Alastor from a sitting stupor. A used cigarette fell out of his mouth and onto the table. He had been gazing aimlessly at one of his old radios, almost willing it to flick to life. There was a pile of boxy radios sitting in his office…he refused to sell them, even as the house and himself began to fall apart day by day. The food ran out, then the heat. He had to sell his car, his fancy antlered cane…all the material possessions he could find just for enough canned foods to maybe last a week.

  Alastor stared at the fairly recent bloodstains on his white gloves. He wore a white buttoned shirt with red sleeves, his black bow tie lopsided. He also wore dark pants and shoes. He straightened up his round glasses on the bridge of his nose. His brown eyes had bags under them, his stature displaying an unhealthy thinness. Alastor wondered if his radio shows would soon be forgotten, discarded away like the furniture radios he loved so much way back.

  Not being in the spotlight as much…radios gradually falling by the wayside…no more lavish food, fashion and fun like the previous decade. Here he was, isolated, and now without his audience, he felt truly alone. The fading bumpy scars along his body, chest and back were the remaining legacies left behind by his father.

  Alastor stared one last time at a black and white picture of him and his mother, both of them smiling. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had been with him. Warmth, strength and happiness in her eyes through every step of Alastor’s youthful life. Sewing, cooking, singing, dancing and voodoo rituals would always bring back fond memories of her. What would she think of him now…a shell of his former glorious self, hidden by a plastic smile?

  And dear Mimzy…the dashing heavyset blonde flapper girl and perhaps his only friend. One day she was there with him, singing, eating sweets and drinking the night away. Then the next day she had died during the Roaring Twenties. A heartbroken Alastor had blamed himself for her death. Maybe if he had loved her properly…given her the fairy tale romance she wanted in the first place. Alas, he didn’t want sex and deep intimacy like she did. He saw her as a close companion, a beautiful friend he could sing and travel with. He didn’t get a chance to confess his feelings to her.

  Broadcasting and killing were the only purposes in his life now.

  The door rattled again. “Open the door and put your hands in the air!”

  How could he have been so careless? Just a few hours ago, he had brutally slashed the throats of two criminals, a white man and a black man. They were known to beat innocent people in the poor red light district along with committing a few rapes. The police hadn’t bothered to go after them, so he decided to finish the job.

  In a rather ungentlemanly manner, he had bitten into their necks like a starved wolf. And indeed, he was always in search of food. There was a great scarcity during the Great Depression, thus he resorted to…unconventional methods to try and survive.

  Perhaps Alastor had been a little too over-enthusiastic about their deaths on the radio. Or maybe it was the trail of bloody footprints that had led the coppers to his location.

  But whatever the case, Alastor knew that the inevitable was fast approaching him.

  Large hands forced the door open and there stood two police officers with hard round hats, golden badges, black uniforms and ominous black batons in their hands.

  “You’re under arrest for murder in the first degree, second degree…”

  Alastor stood and smiled nervously, “Third degree, nth degree, I get it, folks…”

  A gun shot was fired, the bullet hitting the wall not too far from Alastor’s head. He dashed into the kitchen. There was a pile of papers and radios that stood in the way of the door. There appeared to be no way to escape…

  But off to Alastor’s left was a window, thankfully wide open.

  Without hesitation, the man ran forward and dove out the window, landing in a heap on the snow below. His thin bony form allowed him to cross the small opening. He took great gulps of air, lifting himself up and sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him.

  “Get back here!” the police called. Alastor climbed over fences and didn’t look back.

  The sky was turning blood-red in the sunset. Not too far behind him, Alastor heard some barking. He peered back and saw two ferocious dogs, a German Shepherd and a Rottweiler chasing after him. Their maws were red and their white teeth sharp. The police waved their batons and followed the dogs. Another gun shot rang out. Panting hard, Alastor shoved several people out of the way as he ran. He dodged carts and carriages and old fashioned cars that swerved to avoid him. Horses neighed and reared up while several people yelped in surprise.

  By a stroke of luck, two frightened horses from a carriage blocked the dogs’ path. Alastor used this opportunity to dash into a nearby side alley. Catching his breath and grimacing, Alastor climbed into a nearby green dumpster, rolling deep into the trash. The foul odors assaulted his nostrils. There were black bags, cans, sloppy food and some unrecognizable items everywhere. He curled up into a ball, scared despite his forced smile. His heart stopped when he heard the scraping of feet coming closer. The two dogs were circling the dumpster, panting, growling and sniffing.

  Alastor didn’t dare move or breathe. They would find him and it would be the end. There was no way he’d let himself get arrested.

  The dogs sniffed some more and Alastor thought he heard one of the dogs bark loudly. The silhouettes of the policemen stood at the alleyway opening.

  “Keep searching, he can’t have gone far!” he heard a voice. The policemen raced ahead down the street, the dogs following them. The barking and steps faded.

  How long he was there, he didn’t know. He couldn’t believe that his unpleasant idea to hide his scent had worked. Ever so cautiously, he peered over the ledge. When all was clear, he pulled himself up, briefly landing in a heap on the hard ground. He stood up, brushing away bits of garbage from his hair and clothing. He hated smelling and looking so horrible.

  Alastor looked around, then made his way down the quieter evening streets, sticking close to the shadows.

  There were wanted posters of him on walls and telephone poles. Several passerby gave him suspicious glares. Alastor caught a glimpse at the woods in the fading light. He made his way out of the city and toward nature as fast as he could. Bare tall trees soon surrounded him. The chilly evening air cut through his clothes.

  Not too far away, he spotted a hulking figure standing over a deer. He leaned back against a tree, peering to get a closer look.

  The man was a deer hunter, dressed in combat boots, a vest, pants and a belt of animal pelts. To Alastor’s revulsion, the man was posing by the wounded stag at his feet. A series of pained groans came from the animal. Alastor seethed through his teeth; that would not do at all. The area was still light enough to see shapes and the ground, the full Hunter’s Moon lighting the way.

  As quiet as a mouse, Alastor tiptoed closer until he was almost behind the man. He spotted a rock and threw it ahead of him.

  “What’s that?” the man grunted, distracted by the rock. Alastor broke off a sharp piece of the deer’s antler, holding it in his hands.

   The man whirled around, “Hey what are you…”

  In an instant, Alastor thrust the sharp piece into the hunter’s chest. The man gasped and stumbled back, tripping over the legs of the stag.

  “Oh deer,” Alastor mused as he took careful steps toward the hunter. The man crawled backwards on his hands and legs. He aimed some kicks at Alastor but he gracefully moved out of the way. He grabbed hold of the man’s legs and squeezed as hard as he could. “You call yourself a hunter and you hurt those creatures like it’s nothing.” Anger burned in his eyes.

  The man’s eyes grew wide. “Stay away, you filthy lunatic!”

  Alastor only leaned closer and in the blink of an eye, landed a hard kick to his face and body. And another. And another.

  “Looks like the hunter became the hunted. Quite the irony!” He spoke like he was talking to an invisible audience.

  The hunter cried out in pain but Alastor didn’t stop. He could see his father’s face in and out of the man’s features. He saw the feared looks of his victims, the pleading desperation for survival present in humans and animals alike. The hunter was groaning in terror and pain like the nearby stag on the ground.  Even in Alastor’s weakened state, he still got the satisfaction of having dominance over others. They were all the same to him…morsels there for him to maim to his liking. It was a rare, wonderful feeling that almost made up for him almost getting caught.

  “Kiss all your fawn experiences goodbye,” Alastor sneered, a crazed look on his face.

  The man yelled out again before he gargled for breath as Alastor pushed the sharp antler point deeper in. He moved it around, red blood splattering on the cold ground. The man’s eyes rolled back, his head lolling to the side before falling still.

  Alastor walked over to the wounded deer, silently spoke a prayer and then promptly snapped the beast’s neck. The pained animal noises stopped. He bent down and used a nearby hunting knife to carefully skin the animal. He didn’t care that the deer meat was raw, or that the hanging bits of flesh from the hunter were not cooked.

  He was too hungry to even think. He stuffed the bloody meat into his mouth, his mouth stained red. His shadow briefly morphed into a grotesque silhouette with glowing eyes and branching antlers. Alastor chewed and ate until he felt momentarily satisfied.

  Stealing a shovel from the hunter’s sack, he hummed a cheery tune as he began to dig a grave through the snow and dirt. When the hole was large and deep enough, he dumped the deer hunter’s body into it. But before he could add dirt on top of the corpse, he heard something. A low voice and a growl.

  More policemen and dogs were trekking through the woods, following his trail.

  Not too far away in the dark, another hunter carried a rifle in his hands. A couple of hunting dogs strolled by his side. One of the dog’s ears perked up and it suddenly froze.

  The white man hunter peered ahead into the dusk wood. He saw a tall figure pace back and forth.

  “A deer,” he breathed. He gave a signal to his companions and the dogs charged ahead with loud barks.

  Alastor slowly turned around and saw the canines suddenly rush and leap at him. There was a deer in the headlights look in his wide brown orbs. The shovel fell from his hands and he cried out. Barks and howls clashed with his screams as sharp teeth sunk into him at every angle. Teeth tore at his shirt, his legs, and his skin all over. Rips, tears, the squelching sounds of flesh being torn. Blood spots stained the snow. Alastor couldn’t shake the dogs away, even though he tried to escape. His round glasses fell off his face and landed cracked in the snow.

  Alastor wondered if one of the dogs had rabies…black spots danced across his vision and a flaming pain raced within his head. He saw snarling mouths and spinning trees…he felt like he was drowning in a hurricane filled with monsters.

He yelled out swear words and “Nos!” and gibberish, gasping for breath.  Even though the pain and blood loss, he kept a strained smile on his face. He stood on shaky legs, the dogs clinging to him.

  And just when Alastor thought he couldn’t handle the agony any longer…

  Bang!

  A gunshot rang out from the hunter’s rifle. The bullet struck Alastor square between his eyes. The man collapsed dead in an instant. The dogs briefly mauled at him until the hunter crept closer.

  The hunter gasped at the bloodied man lying on the ground. His clothes were dirty and torn, his hair a mess, and an unsettling frozen smile lay on his pale cooling face.

  The police arrived, carrying lanterns the illuminated the grisly scene. They spotted the dead deer hunter in the hole, the stag corpse and the dead body before them.

  “What’s happened?” one man asked the hunter.

  “I-I didn’t mean it, I thought that guy was a deer.” He pointed a shaking hand at the dead Alastor.

  “Wait,” the policeman said. “That’s the Louisiana Lunatic, the infamous serial killer we’ve been looking for. And he’s…dead?”

  The hunter nodded. “He must’ve killed that guy in the hole.”

  The police paused then breathed sighs of relief. “Thank goodness you weren’t hurt! Come with us, we’ll get you somewhere warm.”

  “You’re gonna be famous soon,” the other policeman mentioned. A greedy grin spread across the hunter’s face. He was a white-skinned man with slick black hair and icy blue eyes.  

  “What’s your name?” the police asked eagerly.

  “Vincent, a member of RCA. But I sometimes call myself Vox.”

  Vincent became famous overnight. His name appeared in the newspaper and advertisements showing his potential television programs became widespread.

   The headlines were big and bold:

 "Breaking News! Louisiana Lunatic found dead in the woods!"

  "Serial Killer Alastor Moreau shot dead by RCA Employee Vox!"

 Vox's favorite headline read: "Video Killed The Radio Star! Vox Hailed as Hero After Mass Murderer's Death."

 Reporters surrounded Vox by the dozens.

  "How did you survive?"

  "It is true that you killed that maniac before the police could arrest him?"

  Vox bragged about his talents, his race and his exploits with various women. And, of course, Vox had his share of fans. Vox did not face any charges as he had “merely killed a villainous bozo by accident.”

  "That handsome TV man saved New Orleans!"

  "He's so smart and brave!"

 A radio announcement went on the air on Alastor's station one last time by Vox himself:

 "1933, Alastor Moreau, (1899-1933) was shot in the head in the woods yesterday after attempting to flee police. Witnesses said he appeared to be in distress and was last seen dashing into the woods from the New Orleans Police Department. Radios, voodoo trinkets, gris-gris, and half-eaten body parts were discovered in his cabin, house and shed. Alastor was shot in the forehead by RCA employee and upcoming star Vox. A brief autopsy revealed that he had been infected by rabies. The public can rest easy now that the infamous Louisiana Lunatic is now deceased. The only thing I can say for the man caught like a deer in the headlights, "oh dear, and good riddance.""

 Vox later enjoyed profits, fame and sex, after television became more prominent in later years. He traveled all over the country, and soon, the incident was long forgotten.

 Alastor’s fans of his radio show were notably upset and shocked at the news, but the majority of New Orleans were thankful that he was gone. His studio and belongings were either burned or given away. His body was burned as well, ashes spread in the woods with no proper funeral. Some of his intact radios found a new home at an antique shop. Some of them were expensive, some were cheaper, but people were too into the new trend of "Picture Boxes," to think much of it.

All traces of the infamous serial killer had been lost to memory it seemed.

 Somewhere in New Orleans, the old radios had been moved to an antique shop in the French Quarter. All of them were arranged separately on shelves among unfinished TV models, pots, figures and other objects. Night had fallen and the store was empty.

 With no explanation, the oldest radio blinked to life, the outer speakers and knobs blinking faint yellow lights. A strange row of teeth in a wide grin near the bottom was part of the design. Those lit up golden as well. The hum of static filled the air.

 A low radio sounding voice spoke through the speakers…demonic and quite different from the radio’s previous owner…

 “Stay tuned folks.” Ominous laughter followed.

[kingjaffejoffer]

This article is absolutely WILD.

I apologize for copying and pasting something so long, forgive me. 

http://sports.yahoo.com/news/fractured-friendship-of-aaron-hernandez-and-a-gangster-played-out-in-bone-chilling-court-scene-012208774.html

BOSTON – They were once best friends, confidants and keepers of the most wicked of secrets.

“Inseparable,” Aaron Hernandez once described his relationship with Alexander Bradley.

They were very much separated, however, Monday on the ninth floor of Suffolk Superior Court during Hernandez’s double murder trial.

Separated by six court officers, either directly between them or ready to restrain. Separated by the distance between the witness stand (Bradley) and the defense table (Hernandez), although under different circumstances those positions could have been reversed. Separated because their relationship is as complex as it is combustible, most apparent perhaps when Bradley explained to the jury why he didn’t go to the police even after Hernandez allegedly pointed a gun between his eyebrows, fired and left him to die in an alley of an industrial area of South Florida.

Bradley survived with one eye but all his vengeance. Talking to the cops didn’t just violate his no-snitching street ethos, it violated any sense of fairness.

“I didn’t want to talk to the police,” Bradley said. “I wanted Mr. Hernandez. I wanted his life.”

The tone chilled an already tense courtroom as Bradley stared his left eye, the one that still worked, directly at Hernandez. He tilted his head to the right and shook it in fury at his old friend. These were no empty words, no posing. Given the chance, Bradley would almost certainly kill Hernandez. And vice versa, at least if Hernandez learned that when it comes to Alexander Bradley, it takes more than one close-range shot to the skull to finish him.

Judge Jeffrey Locke broke for lunch right then, leaving Bradley’s words and stare to hang over a jury stuck contemplating the levels of personal betrayal overwhelming this case. As court officers ushered Bradley out, he walked past Hernandez, the two of them locked in a shared look of pure menace.

*****

Hernandez is charged with killing Daniel de Abreu and Safiro Furtado in a 2012 drive-by shooting after a brief encounter earlier at a Boston nightclub. Bradley is the state’s star witness, the driver of the vehicle Hernandez was in that night and the lone eyewitness capable of putting the gun in the former New England Patriot’s hand.

Across a lengthy day of direct examination (the defense’s ferocious cross of Bradley is expected to begin Tuesday) the trial focused on the chaotic friendship of Bradley and Hernandez – the former a Connecticut drug trafficker, the latter an NFL star, each who share a propensity for rage and unnecessary violence that have dominated and doomed their lives thus far.

Hernandez, 27, is serving a life sentence for the 2013 murder of Odin Lloyd in North Attleboro, Mass. Bradley, 34, is currently doing a five-year stint in Connecticut for indiscriminately shooting up a Hartford nightclub in 2013 after someone there shot him three times in the leg over a dispute about money.

Together they make a pathetic pairing. Penned up and battle-scarred, each trying to save whatever is left of themselves by accusing the other of actually killing de Abreu and Furtado.

Their relationship had begun through commerce, a buyer and a seller, Bradley often supplying marijuana on a payment plan because Hernandez was still just a college football player then, a Florida Gator, and money was tight. It wouldn’t be for long, though, not with the NFL beckoning.

They became friends. They smoked a lot. They played video games a lot. They partied a lot together. They also provided something for the other. Hernandez allowed Bradley into his orbit of superstardom. Bradley gave Hernandez undeniable street toughness that he always coveted. Bradley was true gangster. He was also the rare peer who didn’t need his money.

They also shared an unexpected level of depth. Hernandez, for all his tough-guy posturing, grew up in a two-parent, middle-class home, and had the gift of a chameleon. He went to college for three years. He could act like a thug, but he was smart and well spoken. So, too, was Bradley, who from the witness stand offered a large vocabulary. In his testimony, a car was a “vehicle,” a house was a “residence” and a gun was a “firearm.” Aaron Hernandez was “Mr. Hernandez.” He used legal jargon. Notes of his entered into evidence displayed admirable penmanship.

At one point he described issuing Hernandez a death threat this way: “I expressed my feeling to him about how I wanted to handle the situation,” Bradley said.

That’s one way to put it.

*****

Bonded by evenings of blunts and bottles, it was a rare day they didn’t at least check in by phone, and a rare week they weren’t hanging out two or three times, often in Boston nightclubs.

The most fateful came in July 2012, when Bradley testified that Hernandez, angry that de Abreu didn’t pay him enough respect earlier in the night when he bumped into the Patriot and caused a drink to splash. Hernandez spotted de Abreu’s party driving away at closing time and ordered Bradley to follow in pursuit.

Bradley did just that, running a red light to pull up alongside the Cape Verdean immigrant’s car. That’s when Bradley said Hernandez, wearing rosary beads as a necklace, fired five shots. He would have done more, but he was out of ammo.

The two fled and headed back to Connecticut, each of them, according to Bradley, shocked at what had occurred.

“He was kind of panicked,” Bradley said. “He said, ‘I hit one in the head and one in the chest.’

“It wasn’t a bragging tone.”

A plan was quickly enacted – stash the car and shut the hell up.

Hernandez spent time combing through news reports. Bradley returned to dealing marijuana, up to 30 pounds a week. Soon Patriots camp beckoned, Hernandez signed a $40 million contract and played an entire season for the Pats, even as, according to Bradley, he became convinced he was being followed by detectives. Hernandez also reveled in his crime, though, according to Bradley, bestowing upon himself a new nickname: “Double A.”

“It was a direct correlation to the double homicide,” Bradley said.

Back in Boston, baffled detectives had no leads and no reason to suspect a New England Patriot in the crime. These two had seemingly got away with it. They grew even closer.

*****

Then came a trip to Florida in February 2013, a haphazardly planned vacation that spoke to their general dysfunction. They went to the airport but arrived so late they left their luggage in the car and traveled with just what they were wearing despite a plan to stay nearly a week before heading to Arizona. They tried to save money by staying at the West Palm Beach La Quinta Inn (“near the Hooters,” Bradley said), yet blew $10,000 one night at Tootsie’s Cabaret.

They were stoned most of the time and drunk seemingly the rest. On one of their visits to Tootsie’s, which bills itself as “the Largest and Best Strip Club in America,” Hernandez became convinced that two fellow patrons were actually undercover cops following him.

“I said, ‘If they are, it’s because of the stupid [expletive] you did in Boston,’ ” Bradley testified. “He became standoffish. He became upset.”

The next night and another trip to Tootsie’s. By 5 in the morning, there was an argument over how to split up the sizeable bill from a private room. Then on the ride home, Bradley realized he’d forgotten his cell phone at the club, but Hernandez wouldn’t allow the car to be turned around (there were two other friends with them).

They argued, then Bradley said he fell asleep, only to awaken when the car stopped down an alley near a John Deere dealership.

“I woke up with Mr. Hernandez pointing a gun at my face,” Bradley said. “… Right between my eyebrows.”

Hernandez fired. Bradley said his ears were ringing, blood was flowing everywhere and his right eye was finished, yet he somehow maintained consciousness. He said Hernandez and another guy pushed/pulled him out of the car and left him to die. He pulled himself up on a nearby fence, started walking and then was discovered by some workers from John Deere. They called an ambulance.

At that moment Bradley had two goals.

Live. Kill Hernandez.

*****

A homicide detective from the Palm Beach County Sherriff’s Department showed up at the St. Mary’s Medical Center intensive care unit because Alexander Bradley was not expected to survive and, in a twist, maybe a homicide victim could grant an interview before he became a homicide victim. Only it was immediately clear that Bradley was going to survive and he wasn’t going to tell the cops anything.

“I have no information for you sir, with all due respect,” Bradley is heard saying during the taped interview.

Who shot you, the detective asked.

“He’s a [expletive] [expletive] who did it,” Bradley said without naming a name.

“Well, obviously, you have a big-ass hole in your head,” the detective said.

After the cop left, Bradley borrowed a phone and called Hernandez, who answered and, according to Bradley, was stunned to hear the voice of a presumed dead man.

“He said, ‘Who’s this?’ ” Bradley testified. “I said, ‘You know who this is.’ He was shocked. He definitely didn’t think I would survive.”

Hernandez proceeded to hang up. Future phone calls didn’t go much better. In text messages, Hernandez denied knowing anything about anything. Three surgeries and one prosthetic eye later, Bradley recovered and returned to Connecticut, where he began trying to lure Hernandez into a meeting so he could murder him.

“To make it even,” Bradley said.

By late March he was also trying to wring money out of Hernandez, to compensate for the pain and suffering. Maybe that would have sufficed. Maybe Bradley would have killed him anyway, just with a lot of cash to boot. Bradley kept boasting in text messages about his gun arsenal and crew of six who would ride with him and all sorts of other potential mayhem he could unleash.

Hernandez kept avoiding Bradley and ignoring most of the texts but it was clear the pressure was everywhere as spring turned to summer.

Hernandez would have continued reason to fear the police busting him for whatever involvement he had in the de Abreu and Furtado murders – Hernandez’s defense claims that Bradley was the actual triggerman. Even if that was true, Hernandez’s mere presence at, and failure to report, a double homicide would lead to criminal charges and an end to his NFL career. He would also worry that Bradley could file a civil suit, which would likewise cause massive professional harm. Or Bradley could just hunt him down.

By the start of Patriots training camp in late July, his daily whereabouts would be obvious and would make him an easy target.

Then Hernandez killed Odin Lloyd on June 13, 2013, and was arrested a little over a week later. He hasn’t had a breath of free air since. The murder of Lloyd possibly spared Hernandez’s own murder, saving his life, even if that life is one of incarceration without the possibility of parole.

Soon Boston police were piecing together the cold case of the 2012 double homicide. Hernandez’s presence at the Cure nightclub was no longer a curiosity but a lead. When the SUV they had been searching for was discovered in a Bristol, Conn., home connected with Hernandez, charges were filed.

They sought Bradley and arrested him on a restraining order violation. With no other way to enact revenge on his old pal, he broke his code and ratted to the cops, delivering a lengthy statement about what happened that night in the South End. At the time, he hadn’t been granted immunity – although that would come soon. He’ll face no charges in this case.

By the winter, though, he was locked up himself, for shooting up a bar in Hartford. It followed a 2006 conviction on dealing drugs and an unresolved arrest for assault with a firearm in Bridgeport, Conn. That is him. He’s no hero here. Had he turned Hernandez in after the double homicide, or his own shooting, he could have saved Lloyd’s life.

Bradley has served over three years of his five-year sentence and claims he is now a different person, eager to get out and be a good father for his three children. Perhaps he means it. Hernandez will have no such chance at redemption, his daughter will grow up without him around.

On Monday, though, Bradley looked no less angry, no less vengeful and no less capable of extreme violence. For all his poise and relative polish, it was too much to just sit and stare at Aaron Hernandez, the man, he said, blasted him in the face and tried to kill him, the man who doubted his loyalty. At times, Bradley grew so upset, the right side of his face twitched.

From the stand, Bradley was trying to recount how he once wanted his old buddy dead. He sure looked like he still wished he could make it so.

[claribel93rosendo-blog]

Solar Spot Lights: Flaunting The Family Home

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[lady-wildflower]

Apocalypse: 1992 - Stranger Things Fanfiction - Part 1

I’m delving into the strange world of fanfiction with a Stranger Things fanfiction! Here goes!

Oh and yes, the title is a song.

Synopsis:

After the Mind Flayer invaded Hawkins in 1979, Eleven escaped the lab with several other test subjects and has been surviving ever since.

Apocalypse: 1992 - Part 1

"Nicely done," Eight remarked as Eleven let her arms fall to her sides. The Hunters were down - their bodies twisted and snapped like twigs. "Thanks for keeping that quiet, Nine." The sandy-haired young man beside the silent fire smiled. Eleven wiped blood from her nose as she sat back down on a dusty sofa in the collapsed living room.

"We need to move. There've been more and more Hunters lately," Ten said, also from beside the fire."

"They've been gathering around the old lab for weeks - Stalkers too. What are they up to?" Eight asked. It was easy to forget that the creatures they'd been hunted by for the last thirteen years were not just mindless animals - they had intent.

"Who cares? As long as they keep bringing food in from wherever they get it, we need to stick around them but not get too close. Right now, we're too close." Eleven gazed into the long dried out riverbank, thinking. All the water was like that, so far as she could tell - even the sea. Skeletons from marine life stuck out of the muck, coated in thick slime. The Storm had destroyed everything in its wake after emerging from a portal in the center of what had been left of Hawkins.

The invasion had taken place in 1979 when another test subject in the Mk-ultra project made contact with a being from an alternate dimension - one which had been overrun by these same beings. They had been relentless, pouring through with a vengeance, consuming everything they came across.

The kids of the project had been in hiding ever since, stealing food from roaming Hunters - the tall, pale, humanoid predators with no faces - which had returned from hunting in some other dimension. Eight had been successful in hiding their presence fairly well, although they'd often had to fight the ones which accidentally happened upon them. Between Eleven's psychokinetic powers, Ten's various abilities and the guns they'd looted from various places, they'd become a formidable force.

"Army," Eleven said, as the others debated their next move.

"What?" Eight snapped.

"Army. They're getting ready for something." It made sense to her that these beings which had indiscriminately torn down her world would run out of food here; they were getting ready to invade another world. Already she'd seen mutilated corpses of people she recognized even as that same person stood beside her, ranging from children like her companions to the man who had branded himself 'Papa' - someone she had seen die years before. Ten gulped.

"They're going to another world. We have to stop them before... this all happens to it." Lightning cracked on the horizon as he finished talking; red lightning.

"Shit. Storm's coming back. We need to get out of here, now," Eight yelled. She swung a pack over her shoulder as she kicked the fire out. The group hurried to get their things together as they wolfed down what they could of a deer they'd stolen. Nine may have been mute, but he certainly wasn't deaf, lifting his effects on the surrounding area so that he could concentrate on moving. Nine could alter the flow of sound, entirely muting it - like he did the fire - or amplify it to serve as an earlier warning or to find things - or to use as a weapon if need be. He could also create heat, but it took a lot out of him. He left that to Ten.

Ten could convert energy - usually he used the chemical energy of food he'd eaten, or the static in the air when the Storm came to Hawkins. This he could convert into any energy type he liked - he could create magnetic fields, electrical currents and even heat. He was the fire-starter - lighters weren't exactly easy to find when the town you were searching was swarming with Hunters.

The group ran from the dilapidated house on the bare edge of town they had been squatting in for the past week or two - previously number 149 on some street they didn't know the name of - and into the night. Eleven smashed an approaching Stalker - the immature form of a Hunter - into a tree as they sprinted past it. Eleven winced as thunder boomed around them as the Storm approached.

The woods were dark and covered in thick tendrils and vines, just like everywhere else. Every tree was long dead, rotting in the ground. They could hear the alien beings all around as they ran, larval Hunters - Slugs - chirruping all around. They were almost cute, that is, if they hadn't been the young form of the most horrifying things Eleven had ever seen.

A roar bellowed out from behind them as a drop of blood fell from Eight's nose.

[delicatelysublimeforester]

September 30, 2017

Save your Photos Day!

Save your photo day, Forest stories in photograph

Camera, Photgraph your story in the forest

Camera, Photgraph your story in the forest

“Almost everywhere in the world man has been disregarding the Divine Law and the Laws of Nature, to his own undoing. In his pride, he has rampaged over the stage of the earth, forgetting that he is only one of the players put there to play his part in harmony and oneness with all living things.” Richard St. Barbe Baker

Can this be true?  Are the animal species in decline?  What has been done to the environment  with the increase of forest fires?  In years gone by stories were told of animals pressed south escaping the heat of the forest fires.  This year on camping trips were the sounds of gun fire heard protecting the urban centres from the wild beast seeking safe haven from the forest fires raging around them?  Just as urban centres needed to evacuate, so to, the wild animal would need to evacuate the forest, to find what?  Is there a safe place for the forest animal to escape the forest fire?

If cities are ever expanding and agricultural land fills up the rural country side, where, then are the forests, the native flora and fauna?  Can there be any forest stories still to be told?  Will our grandchildren know the deer, the beaver and the squirrel?  What is being done to save our forests, to save the native flora and fauna?

“Progress does not have to be patented to be worthwhile. Progress can also be measured by our interactions with nature and its preservation. Can we teach children to look at a flower and see all the things it represents: beauty, the health of an ecosystem, and the potential for healing? ” Richard Louv

Do you enjoy a relaxing picnic in the woods?  Have you walked barefoot down the pathways?  Have you caught on photograph the tender wild strawberry leaf in the morning dew?  Do you sight through your camera the dazzling show of the sun backlit on the forest leaves?

It is vital to celebrate our forests, and the celebration of life and beauty.  Save your photo in  your forest story you may wish to add to the 150 forest story compilation today! Saskatoon’s Forests. Our 150 Forest Stories, Our Future, Celebrating Saskatoon’s Forests!

Let us rejoice in the wonder of nature and our environment,as Richard St. Barbe Baker says;

“This generation may either be the last to exist in any semblance of a civilised world or that it will be the first to have the vision, the bearing and the greatness to say, ‘I will have nothing to do with this destruction of life, I will play no part in this devastation of the land, I am determined to live and work for peaceful construction for I am morally responsible for the world of today and the generations of tomorrow.’” Richard St. Barbe Baker

For more information:

Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area is located in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada north of Cedar Villa Road, within city limits, in the furthest south west area of the city. 52° 06′ 106�� 45′

Addresses:

Part SE 23-36-6 – Afforestation Area – 241 Township Road 362-A

Part SE 23-36-6 – SW Off-Leash Recreation Area (Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area ) – 355 Township Road 362-A

S ½ 22-36-6 Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area (West of SW OLRA) – 467 Township Road 362-A

NE 21-36-6 “George Genereux” Afforestation Area – 133 Range Road 3063

Wikimapia Map: type in Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area Google Maps South West Off Leash area location pin at parking lot Web page: https://stbarbebaker.wordpress.com Where is the Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area? with map Facebook: StBarbeBaker Facebook group page : Users of the St Barbe Baker Afforestation Area Facebook: South West OLRA Contact the Meewasin Valley Authority in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada. The MVA has begun a Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area trust fund. If you wish to support the afforestation area with your donation, write a cheque to the “Meewasin Valley Authority Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area trust fund (MVA RSBBAA trust fund)”. Please and thank you! Twitter: StBarbeBaker

Measure Progress with your Camera September 30, 2017 Save your Photos Day! “Almost everywhere in the world man has been disregarding the Divine Law and the Laws of Nature, to his own undoing.

[kathyprior4200]

Hazbin Hotel: That’s (Alastor’s) Entertainment!

“The Pilot is here! Follow Alastor, the Radio Demon as he pursues his goals of taking over Hell and messing with demons to keep his reputation intact. After seeing Princess Charlie announce her plan to rehabilitate sinners at her hotel, he arrives at the hotel to assist her. Along the way he meets porn film star Angel Dust and Charlie’s devoted girlfriend Vaggie. While Alastor seeks out new forms of entertainment, he also seems to have more sinister plans in mind.”

 The scene started with black curtains opening to a silhouette of a city. The words SpindleHorse Presents was written in white cursive before fading away.

 The building shadows were against a gray background with eye designs on it.

 A man with a radio voice sang a song.

 “At the end of the tunnel, there’s craziness.”

 A figure of a person was falling downwards through the darkness until ending at a tunnel of light. Shadows of demons falling into Hell were shown: Baxter, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Niffty, Robo Fizz, and others.

  “And to meet me, how often one dies…”

 A silhouette of a human man with glasses and short hair looked to the left, speaking from a microphone with one hand while using a knife in the other. To the far left were cowering human silhouettes.  A white smile shape was shown were the man’s mouth was.

 The man turned to the right in a running motion where a shadow of a policeman, a hunter and a growling dog were staring at him. The dog bared its shadow teeth and the two men aimed long shadow guns at him. Black splatters appeared from near the shadow man’s head and the figure collapsed to the ground.

 “Yes my life is a game

 Just a quest for fame…

 And my foes all smashed up like flies…”

   White spinning silhouettes of Exterminators, weapons pointed, flew around the shadow city, as a glowing pentagram was created in the center.

 The shadow of the killer man appeared again, this time growing shadow deer ears and little antlers. His eyes were glowing red and a shadow staff appeared in his hand.

 The killer stood small within the towering shadow of a man with large antlers and glowing red eyes: his father. A woman wearing a dress and her hair in a bun stood off to the side with a hand on his shoulder: his mother.

 “Why have I always been such a killer?”

 “What can the reason be?”

 Tentacles and sharp mouths overtook the scene.

  “I wonder if the world’s to blame

I wonder if it could be me…”

 A spinning globe was surrounded by large watching white eyes. Rising up were silhouettes of the Exterminators, grinning faces, xs over their right eyes, stained with blood, holding swords and spears. One Exterminator grinned as its white face, eyes, smile, and halo glowed in the darkness before fading.

 In Hell, a small planet had a glowing pentagram on it in the crimson colored sky. “Fuck you Heaven!” and “cleanse!” were written in red graffiti by a broken window. A paper with an Exterminator drawing blew away. Other red signs read “Punishment” and “Your days are numbered,” in big letters. Spears stuck out of dead demon’s mouths in the street. A light spun around from a tower.

 Another Extermination had ended. Dead bodies of demons and horned creatures littered the streets. Some of them had spears through their open mouths. Charlie had sadly strolled on her balcony and shot fireworks from her finger to signal that it was safe. Everyone gradually emerged from inside buildings and other hideouts. Already, turf wars were in full swing as demons fought over new territory. Other denizens disposed of the bodies while the more sinister ones ate them.

 One sinister demon was tall and slender, with grayish skin. He wore a red suit, red dress coat and wine colored pants. His shoes were black with red hoof prints on the soles. The dress coat was dark red and decorated with small vertical lighter red stripes. His undershirt was lighter red with a black upside down cross design. A black bow-tie with a red center was below his long neck. Finally, his thick hair was red and black, with fluffy deer-like tuffs poking from his head like ears. Two small black antlers were between them. He even had a red and black deer tail, which was hidden under the fabric of his suit. An oval monocle was under his right eye, connected by a chain. His large glowing red eyes and smile of sharp yellow teeth was enough to scare even the toughest demon away…and for good reason.

 He was Alastor, the Radio Demon, one of the most feared and powerful overlords in Hell. Possessing supernatural abilities and shadow manipulation, he had conquering many areas of Hell and defeated overlords who had been in power for years. Using a red vintage style microphone staff, he could broadcast his carnage and victories at will, hence why sinners called him the Radio Demon. He thrived on domination, trickery, and deceit…always in search for the next entertaining event. Alastor’s dark qualities were balanced out by his love of music, dancing, singing, and the finer things in life.

 Emerging from his underground lair in the shadow spirit realm via portal, Alastor sang a merry song as passerby cowered when he approached. It was around the same time when Charlie sang her lament.

   “At the end of the tunnel, there’s craziness

And to meet me, how often one dies

Yes my life is a game

Just a quest for fame

And my foes all smashed up like flies”

  “Why have I always been such a killer?

What can the reason be?

I wonder if the world’s to blame

I wonder if it could be me?”

  “I’m always seeking power

 Basking in light, for the show

 My schemes match up to my dreams

 No one else shall know”

 “Some people mope and find sadness

 I always laugh and show my grin

 Some people fail and rest in their sin

 With that I’ll always manage to win

 Believe me”

  “I’m always seeking power

 Waiting to hunt the gullible brown deer

 Again”

  Several signs read “Welcome to Hell: population, a fuck ton.” There were advertisements of drugs, food, casinos, weapons, and porn everywhere. Demons of all shapes and sizes roamed the streets, one flying demon caught a smaller one in its talons. Vox, Valentino and Velvet sat together in a Porn Studios building. A scientist and a wild haired demon picked up weapons to sell on the black market. Rosie crossed out the name “Franklin” on her emporium sign with a grin. It was now Rosie’s emporium. More demons picked up the dead remains and put them in shopping carts.  

   The clock tower rang out as the counter changed from 0 to 365 days until the next purge.

“Next cleanse” was over the counter in fancy letters.

 Against a black screen, the title “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel” appeared on a pink sign. A black winged key made up the letter T in “hotel.” A red eye was in the circle of the key.

  Sadly, the other characters didn’t get as much screentime as they did in the original episode. Instead of Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb fighting Sir Pentious in turf wars, we see Alastor and Vox in an intense argument before blasting each other with electricity, moving wires and tentacles and exchanging insults. The scene cuts to Angel Dust fighting Sir Pentious and the Egg Bois in the background as Alastor shakes his head.

 In fact, the blue demon that says “I’m alive!” gets immediately run over…but by a different vehicle owned by the self-proclaimed main character.

 And it’s not Charlie.

 Yep, the Radio Demon did have a car. A blood-red 1929 Packard modified and slightly modernized. Thanks to magic, it could go at fast speeds and even morph into shadow. It had regular tires instead of the typical wheels for the model and a metal step to get inside (though Alastor didn’t need it). The round headlights in the front hummed with bright red light, making them look like angry eyes that could stare into your souls. At high speeds, black radio dials would appear and move in the headlights. Since Alastor was so tall, there was no square roof overhead, just nice leather seats inside and of course, a car radio. Small Voodoo symbols decorated the sides of the vehicle and sometimes glowed in the dark.

 There was a metal grate in the front between the headlamps and below that was a row of sharp yellow teeth, reminiscent of Alastor’s smile. A little gold metal deer head was displayed and attached over the grate. The license plate in the back read “RDO DMN 666” for Radio Demon 666.  The car could also morph into newer vehicles as illusions. It wasn’t uncommon for demons to grow envious when they spotted the Radio Demon cursing around in a cherry colored convertible, sneaking around in a burgundy limo, or racing around in a crimson Porshe.

 That is until they saw the headlights and the Radio Demon’s grinning face before facing a harsh crushing impact before seeing darkness.

 Alastor would smirk like a bigshot with Rosie, Mimzy and several demon women in their seats.  Of course, he would hold open the door for them when stepping in and out. He would take them to clubs for dancing or to theaters at night. Other times, his shadow would appear in the seat next to him and shoot people from the shotgun spot. It was one of his classic jokes he liked to make.

    “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m opening the first of its kind! A hotel that rehabilitates sinners!”

 The audience stared in stunned silence after Charlie had finished talking. Not even the flesh-eating crickets were chirping through the awkward quiet.

 A bloodstained logo “Radio Hack” was displayed above a window which provided a stack of dozens of TVs inside. One demon watching had deer antlers and a flaming blue face, one of the many cruel overlords. Crymini, the 90’s hellhound, stood with a little demon wearing a jester hat upside down. Two hellhound twins stood nearby, one with dyed red hair, the other purple. A neon sign nearby read “Bar” “Klub Kanji,” and “used TVs.”

 In a bar, dark demons wearing cowboy hats were playing pool, not even paying attention. The lead demon wore a cloth over his grinning face and had a large barrel gun for an arm. His friend looked like a demonic bug, and another looked like a mustached villain from an old film. Meanwhile in a bar, purple and blue dragon-like demons sat and drank while casually watching the TVs overhead.

 Charlie stuttered, “Ya know…’Cause hotels are for people passing through…temporarily…”

 A tattooed dark blue reptile demon stood up and let out a loud laugh.

 “Is this girl for real? She thinks, you hear what she thinks? She…heh, heh, heh, oh she’s nuts.” The demon walked away with a small lavender creature and a tall maroon being wearing punk rock clothing and crazy neon hair.

 Charlie added, “I figure it would serve a purpose…a place work toward redemption!” She weakly added, “Yay.”

 With a tapping of his shoes, Alastor walked and stopped right behind Crymini, the flaming deer overlord and a demon with eyes and a couple mouths on his face. Hatchet, the white skinned red-haired Zoophobia dragon, smartly left the scene.

 He had heard of the demon princess before, but he wasn’t expecting her to appear on TV. He certainly never heard of an idea so crazy before. Making sinners good people was even less likely than making pigs fly (which was one magic trick he could do on occasion).

  Charlie stared around her, concerned. “Look, every single one of you has something good deep down inside. I know you do.”

 A light bulb went off into her head as she smirked. “Maybe I’m not getting through to you…”

 Vaggie face palmed, knowing what was coming next. “Oh no…”

 Charlie snapped her fingers and her bodyguard demons appeared. One sat and began to play a grand piano.

 Alastor stood behind two hellhound twins wearing crop tops and a hanging jester. Next to him was a poster that showed him in his demon form terrorizing the circus, demons trapped within flames inside the tent. His army of voodoo horned imps carrying knives and skulls on pikes surrounded the tortured sinners. The words were bold and full of warning: “BEWARE HIM!” “DO NOT FUCK WITH HIM!” In tiny letters off to the side on the wall read: “for a good time: 666-373-9494.”

 Alastor tilted his head to the side in curiosity. His shadow appeared off to his right, morphing into a snarling wendigo deer-like creature. He couldn’t help but tap his foot and hum along as she sang.

 He even started to sing to himself, making his own version of the song.

 “Inside of every demon is a lost cause

Inside of every sinner is a foolish failure

Inside of every godforsaken drug addicted manic…”

 Dude,” moaned a stupid demon with a boar head, “I’m trying to watch the show.”

 “Here’s a show I’ll give you,” Alastor thought as he snapped his fingers and sent the boar flying through the air and into a lava pit.

 “They’ll turn around

Dead in the ground

With just a little time

Down at her crappy hotel…”

 He did feel a bit unnerved at the part where she cuddled with a dog and then threw the dog away.

  After Charlie had finished singing, Alastor laughed out loud. That was quite the performance he had seen! He particularly enjoyed Charlie’s demon transformation and her conjuring of fire for the special effects. And he had to admit that she was a good singer too, despite her ridiculous idea.

 But his favorite part came up next.

 In the blaring red lights, Charlie and Katie fought each other on the desk. Katie was in her insect demon form, crawling on her hands and limbs. She briefly held Charlie down, who dodged and then leapt at Katie, knocking both of them off the table.

 “She’s pretty and has a feisty spirit,” Alastor thought.

 “Why won’t anyone help me?” Tom Trench yelled as flames rose from his body.

 “You’re on fire, Tom Trench!” Alastor exclaimed, while laughing at his own joke.

  Befriending the princess, and doing something different seemed like a good idea. He glanced over at a faraway Happy Hotel building.

 He knew where he would go next.

  After following the white limbo to the hotel in his car, he got out and made his way up to the double stained glass doors with the apple designs on them. Upon further inspection of the hotel, he noticed it was a unique design if not a bit under wear and tear. From the Titanic-like ship off to the side to the hanging carousel that made up a balcony…and perhaps his favorite part, the circus tent overhang in the front decorated with eye designs.

 He had never actually met Charlie before but he heard that she was powerful and different among the demons. For one, she was born in Hell, and two, she was the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith, king and queen of Hell.

 He would have to tread carefully around members of the royal family. Though he thought of them as amusing, he knew how powerful they were.

 Sweat formed on his forehead and he found himself glancing around.

  Why was he suddenly…nervous?

 Somebody like him couldn’t afford to let any sign of weakness show. Of course He wanted to make a good first impression, plus he was sort of curious as to why she would pursue this rehabilitation idea. His nervousness faded away when he imagined Charlie as naïve. Maybe he could easily trick her and not have to be caught by anyone?

 The best thing he could do for the moment was be polite and offer to help. As any good charmer and manipulator knew, first impressions and the process were everything…

 And a nice big smile was the crème de la crème.

  Puffing out his chest, he knocked on the door.

 It was a very slow “Shave and a Haircut knock.”

  The knocking from outside interrupted Charlie’s thoughts. She opened her eyes.

  An ice cold feeling of dread spread through her veins. No other demon would ever do that kind of knock.

 Unless…

 She tentatively reached out her hand to the door handle, and quickly pulled it open.

 Sure enough, the most feared demon in Hell was standing right outside her door. A couple of shadow spirits poked their heads through.

 Charlie’s face morphed into sheer terror, eyes wide as saucers.

 Yes, there she was, right in front of him. Alastor opened his eyes as they glowed red, a radio sound emitting from him. His eyes dilated playfully as he raised a finger in greeting.

 “Hell…”

 The door abruptly slammed shut.

 Brief silence.

 Charlie opened it again…

 “…oooo!”

 Slammed it again.

 Alastor could hear Charlie’s muffled voice from inside.

 “Hey Vaggie!”

 “What?”

 “The Radio Demon is at the door!”

 “What?!”

 “Who?” asked Angel.

 “What should I do?!” Charlie asked.

 “Well, don’t let him in!” Vaggie said.

  A growl formed in Alastor’s throat.

 He stood there, shocked in front of the stained glass door, smile still plastered on his face, hand and curved claw in the air.

 “Well… that was…rude,” he thought. “Usually people are too sacred to answer when I come by. Or they rush to try and please me because they know I could slaughter them at any time. I’ll just wait here then…or maybe break this door down…”

 He had been turned down not once but twice by her! If she had been an average demon, she would’ve been a bloody heap on the floor. The princess should know better than to reject anyone like that, especially a prideful demon like himself.

Any offense to his pride would not go unnoticed.

 Charlie opened the door again.

 “May I speak now?” Alastor asked, hiding his anger.

 “You may,” said Charlie.

 Alastor held out his right hand to her, which briefly glowed. He half expected her to reach out and shake it right away…which would’ve proven her naïve nature…but instead she just stood there.

  “Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart, quite a pleasure.”

 He eagerly grabbed her wrist and leaned his face close to hers before strutting inside. Charlie stood, dumbfounded, her hand still out.

 “Excuse my sudden visit,” he went on, “but I saw your fiasco on a picture show and I just couldn’t resist. What a performance!”

Audience cheers came from his staff as he turned around.

  “Why I haven’t been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929!”

 He bobbed his head side to side and burst into laughter. He glanced back at Charlie who was by the door. “So many orphans!”

 A sharp spear was suddenly pointed at him. He froze in fear, his smile still on his face.

 “Stop right there!” It was Vaggie.

 She swore in Spanish under her breath: “Carbon hijo de perra! (Son of a bitch!) I know your game. And I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone here, you pompous, cheesy, talk show shitlord!”

 Alastor’s eyes narrowed and glowed. He made a low noise of warning.

 “You have a lot of nerve to stand up to me like that, girl,” he thought. “You don’t know anything about me, and you certainly aren’t going to stand in my way.”

 Alastor merely laughed slightly and nudged the weapon away with his fingers. Charli and Vaggie were in front of him.

 “Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here…”

 He added in a low creepy tone, “I would have done so already.”

 His red eyes briefly turned to red radio dials and radio static filled the room. He tilted his head slightly, letting his chaotic magic roam. Vaggie and Charlie were frozen in fear as they caught glimpses of red Voodoo symbols, static, and warped reality.

 Then just as quickly, the noise and magic ceased and Alastor shook his head, eyes back to full red. For a brief moment, they had been small red pupils inside black sockets.

 “That scare should teach them to remember their place,” he thought.

He bowed. “No, I’m here because I want to help!”

 Charlie was sure she hadn’t heard him right.

 “Say what now?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

 “Help!” he responded with another laugh, leaning in close before moving back.

 He held up his microphone staff.

  “Hello?” he asked with a laugh. “Is this thing on? Testing, testing…”

 He tapped it and a glowing red eye appeared in the center. “Well, I heard you loud and clear!” the microphone responded, eye shaking in fear.

 “Um…you want to help?” Charlie asked.

 Alastor appeared behind the demon girls, hands on their backs, switching from a shadow to his regular self. Both Vaggie and Charlie flinched.

 “With…” he mentioned in an imitation of Charlie’s voice,

“…this ridiculous thing you’re trying to do!” finishing in his normal voice. “This hotel!”

 Charlie could hear the call bell ding twice on the table, even though no one was there to ring it.

 “I want to help you run it.”

 “Uh…why?” Charlie asked, confused.

 Alastor laughed again. “Why does anyone do anything? Sheer absolute boredom! I’ve lacked inspiration for decades!”

 He placed his elbow on an annoyed Vaggie’s head.

 “My work became mundane...lacking focus…”

 He then shoved Vaggie aside. She was clearly an inferior little doll he could push around.

 “…aimless!” he continued. “I’ve come to crave a new form of entertainment!”

 He laughed again.

Charlie looked downcast. “Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as entertainment?”

 Alastor laughed again.

 “It’s the purest kind, my dear! Reality! True passion! After all, the world is a stage! And the stage is a world of entertainment!”

 Charlie brightened a bit. “So, does this mean that you think it’s possible to rehabilitate a demon?”

Alastor help up a hand and laughed. “Of course not. That’s wacky nonsense! Redemption, oh the non-existent humanity! Nononono, I don’t think there’s anything left that could save such loathsome sinners!”

 He glanced at Vaggie and Angel Dust sitting on the sofa, mischief in his eyes. They would be fun to mess with.

  “The chance given to them was the life they lived before; the punishment is this!”

  He spread out his arms, turning away. “There is no undoing what is done!”

 His eyes glowed red, pupils constricted. There really was no way to change the past. All the sinners were destined to suffer in a matrix of pleasure, illusion, and the threat of a second death. For Alastor, every demon was a lost cause…and paradoxically, that also included him.

 He had dealt with authority figures before in his previous life…those racist religious folk who believed that God and the elite had complete control over his fate and the fate of everyone else. Now here it was again, in the form of God, the angels, Vox, Lucifer pretty much anybody he hated. It wasn’t his fault he killed and ate all his victims. If certain people hadn’t pushed him over the edge…

 He glanced over when he heard Charlie’s voice.

 “So then, why do you want to help me if you don’t believe in my cause?” Charlie asked.

 Alastor smirked and looked at Charlie over his shoulder. “Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself!”

 He pulled her close to him with his arm and twirled her around in a quick dance. Charlie narrowed his eyes at him and gave him a look. He ignored her. “I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment! Only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure.”

 His eyes glowed red and his left eyebrow raised slightly. Just the thought of having the fates and lives of demons in his hands was enough to get him excited…or perhaps even aroused.

“Right…” Charlie began, slowly removing his clawed hand from her shoulder. Alastor’s hand flinched at the sudden touch.

 Alastor chuckled and took her aside for a walk. “Yes indeedy! I see big things coming your way, and who better to help than I.”

 He impressed her further with some charm and making his staff appear in his hand.

  Vaggie walked up to Charlie and pulled her aside.

 “Charlie, listen to me. You just can’t believe this creep! He isn’t just a happy face! He’s a dealmaker, pure evil! He can’t be redeemed! And is most likely looking for a way to destroy everything we’re trying to do.”

 Alastor drummed his fingers against his palm, listening in on their conversation with a grin.

 “I…” Charlie began. “…we don’t know that. Look…I know he’s bad, and I know he probably doesn’t wanna change, but the whole point of this is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better! How can I turn someone away? I can’t. It goes against everything I’m trying to do. Everything I believe in.”

 Alastor stared in fascination at a family picture on the wall. It showed Lucifer dressed in white, Lilith in a dark purple dress, and Charlie as a little girl wearing a brown and white dress in the middle. The picture border consisted of branches and yellow eyeballs and a dried rose in the upper right hand corner.

 “Such a lovely portrait! A picture of perfection! It’d be such a shame if something awful were to happen to them…”

 “Just trust me,” Charlie added placing comforting hands on her girlfriend’s shoulders, “I can take care of myself.”

 Charlie,” warned Vaggie, “Whatever you do, do not make a deal with him!”

 From a distance, Alastor opened up the palm of one hand, claws curled inward, hand glowing. From his viewpoint it looked like he was grabbing onto both girls. They glanced in his direction, worry on their faces.

 “I’ll have these two in the palm of my hand…”

 “Don’t worry, Charlie replied to Vaggie. “I picked up one thing from my Dad…” she spoke in a manly voice, “Ya don’t take shit from other demons!”

 Gathering her courage, Charlie marched over to the Radio Demon.

  “Ok, so…Al. You’re sketchy as fuck, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a joke. But I don’t.”

 Charlie turned away. She was so close and so vulnerable.

 Red Voodoo symbols floated around Alastor as his eyes glowed.

 “If you could stay turned around so I can knock you out…” he thought.

Charlie narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously and the symbols vanished.

 “So close,” he thought in frustration as she turned around to face him.

  Charlie continued. “I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no tricks or voodoo strings attached.”

 Alastor twirled his cane and held out his hand. “So it’s a deal then?”

 Flashes of eerie green light surrounded him, electricity snaking up the walls.

 “Nope!” Charlie yelled, holding out her hands. The energy stopped. “No shaking! No deals!”

 Alastor’s eyes constricted. “She rejected my deal,” he thought. “This will be more challenging than I expected.”

 He walked forward a step.

 Charlie continued.  “As princess of Hell, and heir to the throne, I uh, hereby order that you help with this hotel, for a long as you desire.”

 A moment of pause…he brushed his hair back.

 “Sound fair?” she asked.

  “Hmm. Fair enough. Cool beans.” Alastor shrugged, walking on and making his cane disappear. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief and even did a thumbs up.

 Alastor stopped and spotted Vaggie off to the side. How pathetic she was, frowning like that. He smirked in a way outside observers would describe as lecherous. He tickled her under her chin with a finger.

 “Smile, my dear! You know you’re never fully dressed without one!”

 Alastor hummed happily on his way, while Vaggie growled in disgust and rage.

 “So…where is your hotel staff?” Alastor asked.

 “Uh, well…” Charlie began. Alastor peered at Vaggie through his monocle. “Oh ho ho ho, you’re going to need more than that.”

 He walked over towards Angel.

 “And what can you do, my effeminate fellow?”

 Angel grinned. “I can suck your dick!”

 Alastor could almost scream in disgust after hearing that.

 “Ha! No.” Alastor deadpanned.

 “Your loss,” Angel said with a slight laugh. Alastor summoned his cane.

“Well, this just won’t do!” Alastor exclaimed. “I suppose I can cash in a few favors to liven things up!”

 The spell came easily in his mind: “dife sèvitè, reveye.”

  He snapped his fingers and a fire sparked to life in a small circular fireplace. Animal skeletons decorated either side of the wall. The wall and fireplace were repaired.

 A dark figure plopped down onto the chimney floor.

 Alastor walked over and picked up the creature with his hand. A large single yellow eye was revealed. Angel, Vaggie, and Charlie peered at the creature. In a puff of smoke and a squeak, the creature revealed herself. A cute cyclops girl was wearing a pink dress with a poodle on the front, her short wide hair dark magenta with a streak of yellow.

 “This little darling is Niffty!” Alastor introduced, before dropping her. She landed on her feet. She was an adorable little thing.

“Hi! I’m Niffty!” she greeted with a wave. “It’s nice to meet you! It’s been a while since I’ve made new friends!” She laughed slightly and her pupil grew smaller, darting in circles.

 “Why are you all women?” she asked. “Have any men here?! I’m sorry, that’s rude.” She missed the fact that Angel was male, for obvious reasons.

 She briefly picked up Charlie, while Vaggie held her spear defensively at her.

 “Oh man, this place is filthy!” she exclaimed, running around and lifting up couch cushions. “It really needs a lady’s touch, which is weird, because you’re all ladies, no offence.” She chewed on a black spider she found, then rushed toward some stained glass windows.

 She darted around, using a dust ruffle to clean them. “Oh my gosh, this is awful! No, no, no…Nope!”

 She raced around, removing cobwebs, then poking at a piece of a voodoo doll. Well, it was actually a live blue beetle doll that Alastor had stabbed with a clothing pin for Niffty to play with. Alastor looked amused, while the others stared in disbelief.

 “So fortunate of me to have met her in Hell. A former chimney sweeper in the 20th century. Heard she died from too much smoke. Services are still good! Though, I didn’t give her much of an option to begin with…” he thought.

   Meanwhile, at a casino, a cat demon placed a joker, an ace, a 2, and a fourth card down on the table. He had black and white fur, wore a black top hat and had red wings with card suits decorated on them. He also had long red eyebrows and wore a red bow tie.

 “Ha!” he declared in triumph. “Read ‘em and weep, boys!”

 He suddenly felt himself being forcefully pulled out of the room through space and time.

  “Full…whoa!”

 “Transpòte ganbadeur la.”

 He ducked as a curtain of red energy surrounded the existing space. Voodoo symbols flashed in the background along with eight yellow eyes, a creepy voodoo skull and a purple skeleton of a worm-like creature. Another voodoo skull with horns appeared for a moment not too far from tan ghost-like spirits with creepy faces and a row of jagged teeth.

 The cat demon figured he must have had too much booze to drink.

 “…the hell?”

 As the images faded, he soon found himself at the hotel bar, not in the previous room at the casino. A large “Come and play Blackjack” sign took up much of the wall behind him. Most peculiar, the gray wood walls were missing halfway up, replaced by the red themed décor of the hotel. Husk was sitting in a portion of the casino he was in. It felt like he was in a house with no roof surrounded by the outside world.

 “What the fuck is this?”

 He saw Alastor and pointed an accusing claw.

 “You.”

 “Ah, Husker, my good friend!” Alastor cheerfully greeted. “Glad you could make it!”

 Husk could have at least been polite for once, but Alastor decided to let it slide.

 Alastor’s head briefly had the appearance of large antlers sticking out from either side. When he moved it, it was revealed to be an antler skull with glowing green eyes hanging in the background. Snakes were wrapped around one of the white curtains supporting a bar stand. “Big Booze,” “Welcome” and “Big Soul” signs were placed overhead on the stand. Neon green card suits consisted of the designs at the bottom of the stand.

 “Don’t you “Husker” me, you son of a bitch!” Husk spat, and swiped Alastor’s hand aside from his shoulder. “I was about to win the whole damn pot!”

Husk stared in anger as the stacks of money and chips on the table vanished in static.

 “Good to see you too!” added Alastor.

 Husk face palmed. “What the hell do you want with me this time?”

 Alastor grabbed hold of him, startling him so much that cards fell from his hands.

 “My friend, I am doing some charity work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services! I hope that’s okay.”

 Husk was taken aback. “Are you shittin’ me?!”

 “No, I don’t think so,” Alastor replied. He casually brushed off his sleeves.

 Husk shoved the Radio Demon off him. “You thought it would be some kind of big fuckin’ riot just to pull me outta nowhere? You think I’m some kinda fuckin’ clown?”

 “Maybe.”

 Audience laughter emitted from the microphone.

 “I ain’t doin’ no fuckin’ charity job,” Husk protested.

 Alastor appeared next to him, startling the cat demon. “Well I figured you would be the perfect face to man the front desk of this fine establishment.”

 He pointed toward the bar stand with the staff. The sound of audience clapping came from his radio staff.

 “With your charming smile and welcoming energy…”

 Alastor spread the corners of Husk’s mouth upward into a demonic smile of yellow teeth. Husk frowned seconds after he let go.

 “…this job was made for you!”

 Alastor strutted over toward the bar stand, the soles of his shoes revealing red hoof prints as he walked.

 “Don’t worry, my friend,” Alastor continued, “I can make this more welcoming…if you wish.”

 With a curve of his fingers, a green bottle of cheap booze appeared on the counter.

 Husk stared with wide eyes, suddenly very thirsty. He swore he could hear the sound of a slot machine.

 “What, you think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze?!” He took the bottle on anger. “Well you can!”

 He immediately guzzled it down and walked away.

 “Too easy,” thought Alastor.

 By this time, Charlie, Vaggie and Angel Dust had arrived to see what the commotion was about. Vaggie rushed toward the bar, furious.

 “Hey, hey, hey, hey!” yelled the moth demon. “No, no bar, no alcohol. This is supposed to be a place that discourages sin! Not some kind of…mouth, brothel, man-cave…”

 Angel lunged himself into her, knocking her to the floor.

 “Shut up! Shut! Up! We are keeping this.” He pointed at Husk with multiple gloved hands.

  He slid up to Husk. “Hey,” he said in a flirtatious voice.

“Go fuck yourself,” Husk deadpanned, drinking his booze.

 “Only if you watch me,” Angel retorted.

 To make matters worse for Husk, Charlie leaned in close to him, excitement and red stars in her eyes.

 “Oh my gosh! Welcome to the Happy Hotel! You are going to love it here!”

 “I lost the ability to love years ago,” Husk replied, gulping down more booze.

Alastor walked in, an ever-present grin on his face.

 “So, what do you think?”

 Charlie ran over to him. “This is amazing!” she beamed.

 Alastor’s eyes blinked rapidly at the sweet sight of Charlie rubbing her cheeks and smiling at him. He could watch it all day.

 “It’s okay,” Vaggie said from nearby, arms crossed.

 Alastor laughed and pulled the two girls close to him. “This is going to be very entertaining!”

 He shoved Vaggie again and his laughter mixed with the sound of an old radio.

 Alastor conjured fire in his hand…Charlie stared in wonder at the flames and the voodoo symbols. He threw the flames in the air, distracting Charlie from him shoving aside her friend hard. Alastor then changed his attire with magic. He now wore a fancy red suit with a white undershirt and a black bow tie. A red top hat appeared on his head, complete with small spikes along the black band and two needles sticking out from the top. He twirled Charlie around in a dance, the princess looking stunned. Pointing his finger over her head, he transformed Charlie’s outfit. Her blonde hair was now short and wavy. She wore an elegant black and red dress, black gloves, a pink hat with a small black bow and black heels. She looked like a dapper lady from the early 20th century.

 Charlie stared at her conjured clothing in amazement.

Vaggie was on the floor, fuming.

 Alastor began to sing as he danced with Charlie, a new spring in his steps.

 “You have a dream

 You wish to tell

 He turned to the fuming Vaggie on the floor, letting her know that he thought Charlie’s idea was silly.

 “and it’s so laughable…”

 He turned back to Charlie.

 “But hey kid, what the hell!”

 Alastor picked Charlie up and threw her into the air. She yelped in delight and landed gracefully next to him. Two glowing apples and a skull with deer horns flashed in the background.

 Reality had been altered to the Radio Demon’s liking. The entire room was lit in psychedelic colors. Voodoo symbols and shapes were etched in every nook and cranny, including a pair of pink claws reaching for the door. Alastor and Charlie waltzed in the spotlight as electro swing music began to play in the distance. The all-encompassing noise, though, was the signature radio-static sound.

 Charlie found herself sliding down one of the apple-etched railings, Alastor leading the way. They landed on the lower floor as Alastor continued his reprise.

 “Cause you’re one of a kind

A charming demon belle!”

 Deer statues and painted antlers were everywhere.

 Back at the bar stand, Husk sat looking bored. Vaggie hissed at Angel grabbing onto her shoulder, while Niffty stared in wonder. Alastor snapped his fingers and their outfits changed as well.

 Angel was wearing a neon pink suit, Husk a pink bow tie, Vaggie a dark dress, with her hair now smooth and long, and finally Niffty, with a cute top hat with small flowers.

 “Now let’s give these burning fools a place to dwell

(Take it, boys!)”

 Alastor snapped his fingers once more and shadowy imps rose to life from a hole in the ground. The happy spirits played a trumpet, a tuba, and a drum set. Charlie snapped her fingers to the beat, while Vaggie watched with worry. She reached out to her friend but was pulled away by Alastor. He enveloped the group into a tight hug with a laugh, followed by glowing images of dark spirits staring at them. Niffty watched in amazement, but not the other three.

 “Inside of every demon is a lost cause…”

Alastor pulled Husk and Angel close again. He rubbed Angel’s head with a white hat and went on his merry way. Husk gave him the bird as he left.

 “But we’ll dress ‘em up now with just a smile!”

(With a smile!)

  Vaggie stood, annoyed in the spotlight. Using his cane, Alastor added a feathered peacock hat and a white fox fur to her outfit. She looked ridiculous. Then out of nowhere, he slapped her butt.

 Vaggie seethed in rage after he walked away.

 Alastor danced some more, kicking a horned skull to the side. In the background, Niffy happily swept up the bits of bone.

 “And we’ll chlorinate this cesspool

With some old redemption flair

And show these simpletons some proper class and style!

(What’s in style? Oh!)”

 He made his way to the circular fireplace, where he waved his staff. Shadows arrived to join the party, including a shadowy version of himself, with large antlers and fangs. He made it disappear in a poof, then snuck toward Charlie. He led her in an upbeat dance, spinning her around, helping her match her steps to his. Charlie blushed when Alastor toyed with her cheeks. As Charlie was led away, Vaggie stood in the background, horrified and disgusted. What was happening to her friend?

 Charlie and Alastor laughed as they danced, the princess locked in a happy trance. Alastor was in his element, his pupils dilated, a joyful demeanor.

 Maybe this could turn into something more? Could it even be…love?

 “Here below the ground

I’m sure you’re plan is sound!

They’ll spend a little time

Down at this Hazbin Ho…”

  Alastor was about to finish his song, when an explosion burst apart a window behind him. He stood frozen, pupils constricting, his body going alert.

 Whatever, or whomever had interrupted his song was going to pay dearly.

 Niffty stared in amazement, shouting “Whoo!” before she was blasted backwards, the door hitting her in the face.

 Alastor’s spell soon wore off and everyone was back in their regular clothes. Alastor, Husk (still drinking), Niffty, Charlie, Angel, and Vaggie, peered out of the hole to see what was going on. Vaggie had her weapon at the ready.

 Looking skyward, the group saw a cracked blimp in the air. It had a small random band aid with a sad face on it along the rim. A familiar snake villain popped out of his hideout.

 “Ha!” Sir Pentious laughed. “Well, well, well, look who it is harboring the striped freak! We meet again, Alastor!”

 Apparently, he was also rivals with Alastor.

 But Alastor simply asked, “Do I know you?”

 The snake boss looked disappointed. Then he said in anger, “Oh yes you do! And this time, I have the element of…surprise!”

 The villain raced toward his pink velvet chair and pulled a lever. A metallic cannon lowered to the ground. The cannon fired up with pink energy as pink smoke appeared around them.

 “He laughed manically. “I’m so evil!”

 Then he added, “I have an Egg army!”

 “Well, we have an Alastor,” Charlie responded.

 Alastor snapped his fingers, red tendrils of smoke rising from his hand. The weapon froze in mid fire and a fiery portal opened up below the blimp.

 A horde of black tendrils rose from the hole, latching onto the ship. One tentacle ripped off the cannon and threw it into another smaller portal, causing it to explode in pink smoke. One of the tentacles had already smashed a hole in the large round window.

 Sir Pentious looked on in shock as his Egg Bois slammed against the wall (one of them read #Ouch.) One of the eggs cracked open, spilling out yellowish brains and small organs among the stains of yok. Sir Pentious and another minion were thrown against the wall.

 “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he screamed before he was slammed against the ceiling by a black limb.

 “Oh, that hurt!” he cried.

 Sir Pentious screamed as he was dragged along the floor and lifted up slightly. He was held in place, surrounded by the wrapped up tendril. At once, the tendril shrunk and squeezed the helpless snake. The Egg Bois ran around screaming as black cracks appeared on the floor and walls.

 From the outside, more black tendrils were closing in. Red voodoo symbols appeared around the blimp.

 “Ede m 'sèrviteur.”

 Four horned shadowy spirits with red auras floated around, wearing toothy grins.

 The tendrils were now wrapped around the entire blimp, holding it in place like thick black vines.

 Red radio waves filled Alastor’s eyes as he circled his fingers and worked is magic. Voodoo symbols appeared all around him as he altered the state of reality. Radio static consumed the air.

The vines thickened and completely enclosed the blimp. The spirits swooped around it in excitement, with echoing shrieks. The aura around the tendrils glowed a fiery yellow, the same color as the portal rim.

 “Kalfu! Destriksyon pa bra nwa.”

 Alastor closed his four-fingered hand which began to glow. A red drop of blood fell from his glowing hand. The tendrils proceeded to crush the blimp. Pink rays of light shot from the center and the blimp exploded in a loud BOOM!

 Pink smoke spread everywhere as the spirits sped away. The tendrils broke into severed bloody pieces that rained down to the ground. Alastor smiled victoriously, while behind them, the group of five stared in utter terror and shock. (Save for Niffty who had a small smile on her face).

 Alastor’s angry, bloodlust eyes spoke volumes.

 “And stay out of this hotel and from my friends you pathetic excuse of snakeskin.”

A sharp pain throbbed on his hand and bags appeared under his eyes. Magic had taken some work from him…and it also made him hungry.

 “Well, I’m starved!” Alastor exclaimed, turning around to face the group, happy again. “Who wants some jambalaya?” He spread his arms out. “My mother once showed me a wonderful recipe for jambalaya! In fact, it nearly killed her!”

 He laughed as he led the way back to the hotel. The others followed.

 “You could say the kick was right out of Hell!”

 He added while laughing at his own joke, “Oh, I’m on a roll!”

 From up above, the hotel looked like a mashed-up haunted house. An old dark train was perched on a balcony, with some monstrous faces carved in. A ship, reminiscent of the Titanic, was leaning upwards against the building as part of the structure. An old carousel served as part of the upper balcony and windows. Skull designs decorated the small windows in a row. Finally, on top of a giant yellow eye, was the sign “Happy Hotel” supported by pillars of worn wood.  

Alastor continued, “Yes, sir, this is the start of some real changes down here! The game is set! Now…”

 He glanced up and pointed his finger toward the sign. Pink electricity shot out and made contact with the sign.

 The sign now read “Hazbin Hotel.”

 “Stay tuned,” he finished with a low sinister laugh.