#except for the Hellhounds cause I wasn't thinking!

[wolfasketch]

Have some screenshot art for the Holliday since I didn't have to energy to draw my own!

Single Character Images:

All bases used originate from Vivipop's work.

The human was made using Cherri Bomb

The Hellhound was made using Loona

The Imp was made using a random background character

The Succubus was made using Verosika

[concubuck]

Extermination Day, Part 3

(Part 1)

(Part 2)

"AND IF YOU DON'T OPEN THIS ELEVATOR, ON GOD I SWEAR, IT WON'T BE THE ANGELS YOU HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT—I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT A HOMEGROWN HORROR CAN DO��"

"Please—!" The imp cowering far below Alastor leaned back against the elevator doors as if she hoped she could squeeze herself into the thin seam between them. "Sir, the elevators are shut down for your safety—"

"WORRY ABOUT YOUR OWN SAFETY, DARLING."

"—locked on royal authority—"

"AND YOU'LL UNLOCK THIS ONE ON MY AUTHORITY!"

"—not even moving—"

"THEY DON'T NEED TO BE!" Alastor pounded a bony fist on one of the doors, making the imp jump half a foot. "LET ME IN THE SHAFT AND I'LL CLIMB THE WALLS TO PRIDE MYSELF!"

"Please—I'm sorry, sir, there's nothing I can—"

"I COULD DEVOUR YOU AND PICK THE LOCK WITH YOUR BONES! I'M BEING GENEROUS BY GIVING YOU THE OPTION OF DOING IT THE EASY WAY—"

"Sir!" She sounded shocked. "You're making a scene!"

Her complaint was so mundane that it shook him out of his outrage. Making a scene. He wasn't in Pride, one of the irredeemably damned surrounded by the other irredeemably damned, a bad person doing bad things to other bad people; he was a succubus—a productive member of society—surrounded by civilized people who had never been imprisoned in Hell, they just lived here.

He tore his gaze away from the imp and looked around the room. The elevator terminal was filled with imps and hellhounds, sitting on benches and cots—last-minute refugees who'd been evenly distributed through the other six rings. And here he was, behaving like a sinner—twenty-five feet tall and covered in sharp points, berating a minimum wage employee for doing her job, like he expected her to make an exception for him just because he was used to having exceptions made for him by people who thought he was important. He was, in fact, making a scene.

He stepped back, shrinking back to his usual size, fangs disappearing from everywhere but his face and his antlers shrinking from a hundred prongs to four. "Of course," he said, voice subdued. "I'm terribly sorry for the commotion, my dear." He cleared his throat. "A—friend's stuck up there. Like family. He's been injured."

The imp nodded, her expression softening to cautious sympathy, but her mouth still pressed into a firm line in case he decided to cause trouble again.

He cleared his throat again, a crackle of static. "When do the elevators reopen?"

She gave him a wary look, but said, "The elevators starts at the bottom and only so many are allowed to board on each ring. The first elevator arrives at forty past midnight, but the first few trips are reserved for emergency responders and nobility..."

Alastor's gaze sharpened, and he gave her a moment of silence (but for the discordant, unsettling hiss of dead air) to decide how badly she wanted to risk him causing another scene. He might have been a productive member of society now; but that didn't erase the fact that'd also been one of the irredeemably damned. He'd act like a sinner if he had to.

Voice low, she quickly said, "But I think we can find a spot for you on the first ride, sir."

His ice cold smile widened. "That's very kind of you, my dear." He turned away from her and looked for somewhere nearby to sit.

Broadcasts spun through his head: his already-injured alternate resolving to fight even harder; another alternate under attack and abandoning his radio tower; one he'd barely even spoken to who sounded like he was either on the verge of a brain storm or trying to broadcast while under attack.

And here he was, least likely of any of them to draw an angel's direct attack, locked two rings away. What a clever little magician he was, that he had taught himself how to slide sideways through universes as easily as walking through a curtain, but never how to cross the gaps between the separate rings of Hell.

He took a seat to wait the eight long hours until the elevators reopened.