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serasfanfiction · 5 months ago

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A sinner's first days in Hell could be... distressing.

Some sinners died abruptly and had difficulty accepting they were dead.

Some sinners died expecting a shiny, golden halo and pearly, white wings onto to find sharp teeth, warped, inhuman features and occasionally horns instead.

Alastor had fallen into the category that knew exactly where he was going before he made his way into Hell. He had practically sauntered down there with a skip to his step and a whistle on his lips. It had been exactly what he had signed up for, after all, spur of the moment as it had all been at the time.

Being forewarned had done little to prepare him for how utterly and completely unhinged Hell turned out to be, a cesspool for corrupt and depraved souls to let loose on their deepest, darkest selves. It didn't help that she had decided to test out the resilience of her new toy soldier by dropping him unceremoniously into the middle of Cannibal Town.

Every cannibal in the nearby vicinity had been excited by the sudden appearance of fresh meat, in every sense of the phrase. Alastor had had to hone his new powers through a baptism of teeth and voracious appetites, dozens of little humanoid piranhas all climbing over each other to take a bite out of him. Things took a definitive turn about the time that the Wendigo that had made a home in Alastor's ribcage awoke, resulting in him eating quite a few of them.

He had managed to come out on top of that scuffle with little more than some torn clothing and a chunk missing out of his thigh. Irritated as he was by that fact, he had survived her test, which was all that mattered.

Rosie had known there was a new, unknown sinner in her territory from day one. It had been hard to miss all the commotion. She had sat back and let the scuffle play out however it was going to play out, seeing if her people would eliminate the potential threat or if she would need to step in.

It was at the end of Alastor's very eventful and informative first week in Hell that he received a visit from Cannibal Town's resident Overlord. She found him in a random house he had claimed for himself as a shelter to lick his wounds and recover, full but unsated, from the meal he'd made of the original owners of the place. When she had shown up, walking through the door like she owned the place, he hadn't known what to expect from her. She shared the same black, deceptively soulless eyes as the people she reigned over. Her pale pink teeth were just as razor sharp, leaving no question as to if she shared the same diet they did. He had learned rather quickly to be cautious around people who shared similar features.

She'd reminded him about what they said about making assumptions about people and judging a book by it's cover. She'd taken one look at him before breezed right past the every single signal he was giving off that he wished to be left alone, disregarding his claims that he was fine and she could leave now as if he had never made them. She effortlessly had him relocated into the privacy and security of the private rooms of her emporium so fast his head had almost literally spun. By the time the dust settled, he was bundled up in a soft blanket with a hot cup of tea in his hands, still unsure how he had come to be there.

To this day, he didn't know why she'd spared him rather than killing him. It would have been within her right to do so. Some strange man had shown up on her territory and had begun killing her people, self defense or not. She hadn't know if he was a threat or not.

Perhaps it had been simple pity.

Perhaps it was kindness, a shred of humanity in a place where people went to be damned for all eternity.

Perhaps it was as simple as she claimed when she'd announced that he was 'just the most adorable thing' she'd seen that century, right before she deer-napped him out of that house.

Whatever it had been, he had found himself owing a debt for the safety she provided. One that he paid back by playing guard dog against wayward suitors who got too big for their britches and enemies seeking to take out competition. She never asked, but then, she never had to. As he had found his feet and had started his campaign to crown himself as a new Overlord, he had made it a point to always have a way to repay her either with action or information.

Before he'd known it, he'd made whom he would admit was his first, if only, friend in Hell. They'd built up such a level of trust that he felt he could come to her at his worst and she wouldn't take advantage of his weakness. They even regularly scheduled 'meet ups' (Rosie's term, not his) to catch up and simply enjoy each other's company.

It was at one such meet up that he found himself, a mere day out after finding himself on a once in a life time jaunt through through a lower level of Hell. Evidence of his trip was laid out in all it's black and white glory on the front page of the newspaper Rosie was reading. He had corrupted most of the footage at the ceremony, mostly on principle. He hated modern technology more than he wanted the denizen's of Hell to know about his current project.

But an amateur photographer had gotten lucky. They had been carrying an older type of camera, one that just took photographs. No film involved whatsoever. It didn't even take color photos. Whoever they were, they had caught a shot of Lucifer, Asmodeus, and their respective dates getting into the limo down in the Lust Ring. Lucifer's hand was held over Alastor's head as the redhead ducked into the limo. The gesture was the act of a polite gentleman, belayed by the blonde's grumpy expression from the sassy comment Alastor had made just before the shot was taken.

The location was unmistakable, even with all the blues and pinks reduced to shades of black, grey, and white. Coupled with the testimony of eye witnesses outside of Stolas' manor and there really was no escaping the absolute shit storm that had been unleashed overnight. Everyone was abuzz with the potential new royal couple.

Rosie was nearly vibrating in her seat as she read the gossip rags. He was impressed with her iron tight control, as she set the paper down all prim and proper, instead of slamming it down. He was in for a wave of questions and they both knew it. "My goodness, you've been busy, haven't you?"

Alastor practically preened. So many lovely things had been confirmed over the last two days. He was still riding the high of being ever so closer to his end goal. "Ask away, my dear! I know you have questions." He leaned his elbows onto the table, resting his chin on his intertwined fingers. "I have one of my own, in exchange."

"Oh you," she crooned. She poured herself some of her choice tea for the day, a breakfast blend she had called assam tea. "You're always free to ask questions, Alastor." She set the tea to cool. "You know I'll pass on the question if I don't want to answer it."

She had said this numerous times in the past. Always about things she considered little and near insignificant. It was the nature of friendship, she'd said, to sometimes give things away as gifts or for free.

After a lifetime of give and take, where nothing anyone gave him was ever truly for free, he found it difficult to believe. Everyone expected something in the end. Always be wary of free favors, he'd learned in life. It was a lesson he didn't intend to forget in the afterlife.

She tsked at him as if he were a particularly stubborn child, when he didn't acknowledge her offer. "Oh, very well," she said, quite indulgently. "I can already tell from your grin you had fun." She spun the paper around so that it was face up for him. "How ever did you get a invitation to another one of the Rings?"

"It turns out his Majesty is terribly shy!" He was sure his amusement was visible in the way his eyes were nearly crescent moons, his grin was so wide. "He was absolutely insistent on getting a new top with a high collar - as if that wasn't more conspicuous!"

He could see her jumping to the conclusion everyone else had made. Rosie covered her mouth with a deceptively dainty hand, both eyebrows shooting up. "You didn't!"

Alastor rolled his head to the side so that his cheek was resting on the back of his hands. "Not in the least! I gave him a little scratch and you'd think I'd left him with a hickey." He was more than happy to leave his marks in other ways. This one would even last for a few days.

Rosie tittered, fingers of one hand pressed to her lips while her other hand waved up and down at him, only bending at the wrist. "What a silly dear, avoiding a smaller scandal for a much bigger one!"

"I know, right?" Normally, Alastor ignored any possible speculation about his romantic life. They never got it right, even if the ensuing scandal for the other party was often bemusing. He was mostly entertained by it this time because he could only imagine what Lucifer was facing back at the hotel. Knowing Angel, the spider sinner was likely already all over it like the newest batch toys from the Lust Ring.

And if Angel knew about it, all the residents of the hotel knew about it. Alastor only escaped any encounters so far by having his own way in and out of the hotel discreetly.

Rosie shook her head piteously. "Oh, that poor, poor dear." There was too much amusement in her voice for it to be believable that she meant it. She reached for her tea, and then took a sip, testing to see if it was at the temperature she liked. It must have passed the bar, because a larger sip followed. Lowering it, but not putting it down, she said, "And the Lust Ring? Is it as atmospheric as the Hellborn claim?"

'Atmospheric'? Was that a word he would have chosen to describe it? When Alastor closed his eyes, the lurid signs coupled with the bright neon pinks and flashy blues still danced behind his eyelids. Rather caustically, he retorted, "Not in the least! It was one big red light district."

He opened his eyes, catching the capital-l Look she was giving him. "Rosie, darling, if you meant the weather, you should have just asked," he teased with a sigh. He stared off into the middle distance, not seeing her emporium anymore. "Well, I didn't see much of it," he admitted. "I only caught a glimpse of it."

It had been an admittedly impressive glimpse of it. Looking past the signs, the view from the Sin of Lust's personal dwelling at been breathtaking. An entire Ring plunged into eternal night, artificially lit by flashing signs and the lights of the buildings. From the height of the residence, the light pollution had been minimized, allowing Alastor to catch a glimpse of the sky itself. Heavy rainclouds swirled overhead, never running out of rain. Perfectly, normal, harmless rain. And peaking out between the clouds had been something even more mundane, but nonetheless marvelous.

Stars. The Lust Ring had stars. When was the last time he had seen stars? It was such a silly thing, but to see something one had taken for granted, and then had taken away for almost a century, it had made them seem like new, unimaginable wonders again.

Did all the other rings have stars? Was it just the Pride Ring that didn't?

His smile turned nostalgic. "It would make a lovely hunting ground. All endless night." He loved being able to unleash his inner most demons without fear of consequences. To have it all out in the light after years of hiding it away. In Hell, everyone had known of him. Lessor sinners avoided him and he reveled in their open fear of him. He didn't have the level of fear Zestial inflicted just by walking into a room, and leaving for seven years hadn't done him any favors on that front, but he was working on it.

Some part of him, however, missed the delight of hearing people gossip about his exploits. Hear them speculating on who would be next. It had made him feel like some kind of boogeyman, haunting the streets and dreams of the residents of New Orleans. It was a different kind of fear that came from the unknown. He could never go back to it, but it was fun to think about. He never got the chance to see whatever the news thought of his work or if they had ever uncovered the true extent of his body count. "I would have enjoyed spending a few days there."

Judging by the look on Rosie's face, he knew she had grasped what he wasn't saying. She had been a more subtle killer, someone who killed more than one husband after they thought the could treat their wives with anything other than the utmost respect and get away with it. It was her unique way of dealing with the bodies that landed her in her current situation.

"There was rain - non-acid rain," he continued, lips thinning. "It was dreadfully boring." What was the fun of continuous rain if it didn't leave everyone with terrible burns all the time? A pity whatever Michael did to the Pride Ring didn't extend to the other rings.

Rosie looked appropriately put out. She didn't have his love for suffering, but she could still appreciate he did. She took another sip of her tea. "And his Majesty? Have you given more thought to what your intentions are?"

The memory of Lucifer leaning against him, a line of heat against his side, rose to the surface like an accusation. Alastor thought he could still feel that heat as if it were tattooed into his skin. When he had set out to find out if he could tolerate being 'companion shaped' enough to meet Lucifer's needs, he hadn't expected how quickly the little king's walls would crumble over a little bit of emotional support. His head felt like it might start spinning if he thought too deeply about how fast Lucifer had been willing to just rely on Alastor, even though Alastor had just been trying to drive him away a mere two months previous.

It was more than anything he could have hoped for.

Above all else, it was intoxicating: this feeling that the most powerful being in the realm had come to trust him so much. It made him want to draw Lucifer in deeper, so deep the king could never untangle himself from Alastor's influence. He was already so close. Alastor could see it in his face the entire night.

Not to mention the sheer, unbridled glee he'd felt upon seeing Lucifer actually breaking a contract. He had heard the rumors, seen the hints that it might be true, heard the verbal confirmation, but to actually see the proof. To see the King of Hell in all of his glory, breaking Angel's contract as if it were mere glass instead of a soul binding contract had been nothing short of euphoric.

For the first time since he regrated making that damn deal, his freedom was practically within his grasp. It was so close he could almost taste it.

He toyed with his tea cup. His appetite was only starting to rear its head, the first hints that his hunger would be returning in full force within the next coming days. "It's a work in progress," Alastor said simply.

Rosie's expression came the closest he'd ever seen to disapproving, at least while directed at him. She had taken a liking to Hell's king during their meeting. She had even invited him back, which spoke volumes about her opinion of him. She wasn't choosing sides - Alastor was certain she'd still choose his, if it came down to it - but she didn't want to have to do so in the first place.

Alastor picked up his cup and took drink from it. Unlike his friend, he had been served a straight black tea, wanting the kick of caffeine without any of the sweetness. It was an undertone to his musings, as he sought to give her a better answer.

He had little interest in romance. He'd seen normally rational people seemingly take all leave of their senses, all in the name of love. It all seemed rather precarious to him, to give that much power over oneself to someone else. It was a level of vulnerability he'd never been able to justify.

He wasn't looking for protection. He had built up his power base until it was strong enough to put him at the top of the food chain. Any power he had lost over the last seven years could easily be regained once he was done with this little side quest she had given him.

He grudgingly had to admit to himself that the 'top of the food chain' was merely in terms of how how a sinner could climb. There were always bigger, larger predators out there, something Adam had taught him rather painfully. Not to mention, the being himself they were having this conversation about was proof of that.

On the flip side, who better to protect him than Lucifer himself? Alastor could have handled Vox, easy, but if Asmodeus had decided to take him out, Alastor might have been hard pressed to escape him. He didn't know why Lucifer had protected him against his little brother, it would have solved quite a few problems for him to have done nothing, but protect Alastor he had.

Alastor's hand rose to his throat, fingers pressing lightly to the gem pinned to his bowtie. Rosie's eyes tracked the motion. He wondered if she could tell what it really was, this gift the King of Hell had bestowed upon him. Lucifer had gotten extremely dodgy about it when Alastor had refused to give it up. It clearly made the little king nervous for the radio host to have it. Alastor had the suspicion he wasn't supposed to know what it really was, which made messing with Lucifer about it all the more fun.

"Come now, none of that." He allowed his smile to become more genuine. "I don't intend to drop him the moment I have what I want from him."

Rosie studied him, assessing him. She could always read him better than wanted, something he had simply had to learn to live with. She must have seen something she liked, because she nodded to herself. Demeanor lifting, she said, "Now tell me. What's this question of yours?"

Alastor was a little put out she didn't ask more questions about the date itself. He wasn't certain if the answers he had paid with was worth the one he was looking for. He didn't like not knowing if the answer was of value or not.

Best way to find out was to ask, was it not?

He picked out a ring finger from the box Rosie had left out for them to snack on. It was just the right sort of plump and crunchy he usually liked. It was a pity it wasn't what he was craving, but as he did not actually know what he was craving, it would have to do. He tossed it into his mouth, savoring it as he thought of how to ask the question.

"I've heard you and his Majesty use this term when speaking about me," he started when he had swallowed his treat. "I'm curious as to what it means." He held his hand over the box, considering if he wanted another one. They didn't appeal to him in that moment, so he withdrew his hand. Meeting his friend's gaze, he asked, "What does 'ace' mean?"

He had heard Lucifer's and Asmodeus' whole conversation. Despite moving to the other side of the room, the distance had hardly been enough to keep Alastor for overhearing it. He would have dismissed it, unconcerned, if not for the fact that they had implied Rosie might agree with them.

Rosie's expression softened. "Oh, Alastor, sweetie." Her free hand twitched, a sign that she wanted to reach out to place her hand over his. "You didn't have to pay anything for that answer. I would have answered it for free even if you weren't such a good friend."

"You're too kind, my dear," Alastor responded. She really wasn't, but she did take care of her own. Alastor was not blind to the fact that he was lucky she considered him such.

It was Rosie's turn to deliberate her response. She placed her tea cup down, although she didn't release the handle. "Hm, 'ace' is another word for 'asexual.' Asexuality has it's own spectrum, but it generally refers to someone who has little to no sexual attraction towards others." She tapped on the lip of her cup with the hand not holding the handle. "This is a very basic definition of the term, but that is it at its core. What that means for someone is a sliding scale that research and self discover can help with."

Alastor leaned back in his chair, hands coming to rest on his lap. Humans did so love their labels and categories, trying to fit messy people into neat little boxes. Little ways for people to validate themselves or to try to fit in with other people and not feel so alone. He did have to admit: the word did feel like a missing puzzle piece. It wasn't an Earth shattering revelation, by any means. He had never tried to hide the fact that he didn't care for sex, had never looked at anyone a day in his existence and thought he'd like to 'jump their bones,' even when he did want to touch someone. He had no need for it when he was alive and he still had no need for it now, regardless of his choice to attempt to court the King of Hell.

Underneath it all, there was a part of himself that felt almost vindictive. How many times had he mentioned his disinterest only to be told he just needed to find the right person? That finding the right person would somehow fix him? That he was somehow broken because he didn't feel the same desires that everyone else around him did?

He threw back his head and laughed, something vicious bubbling beneath the surface. It had been over a century since he had cared what people that of him beyond what was necessary to accomplish his goals, but some wounds lingered, hidden and lying in wait until one randomly tripped over them. He doubted having a name for it, a mere label, would have changed anyone's mind back during the early 1900s, but labels often meant there was more than one person who shared this same state, which meant he wasn't, in fact, alone in this.

Perhaps modernity wasn't completely without its perks, after all.

"Alastor?" Rosie sounded concerned, which just wouldn't do.

Alastor's laughter trailed off into a light chuckle. "Nothing to worry about, my dear." He didn't know what the worth of this new information was just yet, but it certainly sounded like it might be interesting to dig into. "I was merely reflecting on some things." He smiled at her, honest, but with an edge to it. He really was fine, his smile said.

She studied him for a moment longer, before her own smile returned. "Well, if you have any other questions, please feel free to ask." She met his gaze pointedly. "Those questions cost nothing." She lifted her tea cup, with the intent to drink from it again. Before she did so, she offered, "If you don't want to ask, there's a little library some of the girls opened up. Quaint little thing! There's a couple of books on the subject in there that look like good source material."

Coming from Rosie, that was a shining endorsement. Alastor knew she wouldn't recommend something to him unless it was almost a done deal or it was trustworthy information. He would mull over whether or not to pursue the library - and risk the sinners running it being untrustworthy (this was Hell) - or to ask her more questions later.

The meeting fell into something more easy going after that. The talk turning to the latest gossip or juicy tidbits outside their own lives. Alastor was thinking of taking his leave for the day, when a knocking came from the front door of the Emporium.

Rosie frowned while Alastor's brows furrowed, the action being as close to frowning as he could get. Everyone in Cannibal Town knew that if Rosie's Emporium was closed, it was because she wasn't in or she was otherwise engaged. The only reason someone might interrupt her would be if it was important.

And judging from the polite, but insistent banging on the door, it sounded like it might just be important.

Rosie set her cup down, already rising. "Sorry about this, Alastor. I'll go see what it is and be right back."

Alastor got up himself. "It's quite all right. I was just thinking of excusing myself. It is getting late."

She gestured to his seat and his unfinished tea. "Are you sure? It might be nothing a quick word can fix."

Another round of knocking came from the door, still polite, but only just. Alastor started for the door. "Quite sure, my dear. Let's see what all the fuss is about, shall we?"

Rosie unlocked the door and then opened it. On the doorstep was a cannibal that Alastor had never met before. A middle-aged, female sinner dressed appropriately for the time period, albeit on the older fashioned side. She was wringing her hands, swaying from side to side in what appeared to be a nervous habit. The door opening did not ease her worries any.

Rosie recognized her, reaching out and taking the woman's hand. "Doris! Whatever is the matter?"

Doris wrapped her free hand around her Overlord's. "Rosie!" She looked at Alastor. "Mr. Alastor, sir." She looked back at Rosie. "I'm so glad I was able to reach you. You both must come see the news!"

Rosie and Alastor shared a look, a whole conversation happening with a single glance. It was one thing to come to Rosie about something. That would have meant it involved Cannibal Town and/or its residents. To ask Alastor to come along meant it either involved him personally or all of Hell in general.

Rosie turned back to Doris. "Lead the way, dear."

The duo followed the shorter woman to the outskirts of Cannibal Town. Alastor was already deducing that the news likely was being aired on a television as they stepped into Doris' home, as this was as far into Town as Rosie allowed some technology, such as TVs. She was more open minded than he was on the subject, seeing their potential worth to gather more data than simple word of mouth. The news, biased as it was, was still a useful tool to understand what media sinners were potentially consuming.

Her tolerance had its limits. She would not let anything technology past the edges of the town, for everyone's security. The models she did allow were all the old ones, boxy black and white things that only still worked because Hell didn't operate by Earth's rules. Even so, she felt the edge of town was already playing with fire and too much of a potential foot hold Vox might get into her territory.

A man stood in the living room, watching the news broadcast. The glare of the screen reflected off of his glasses. He tore his gaze away from it as Doris led them in. He glanced once at Alastor, his expression nervous, before looking to Rosie. "They've been showing it on repeat for the last half hour," was all he said, pointing to the screen.

Alastor knew what he was going to see even before he saw it, but it still somehow surprised him. He knew that the Vees were going to retaliate in some way for their King's little show and the disrespect he had heaped onto their doorstep. They couldn't touch Lucifer, everyone already knew his flaws.

But they could smear Alastor's reputation.

And there was only one thing in their arsenal to smear it with.

Alastor's smile widened into something rictus, until every yellow, razor sharp fang was bared, a snarl pulling at the stiches holding his lips in place. The television was muted. It did little to soften the impact of watching his past self get slashed with a guitar made of pure angelic grace across the chest. His back panged in phantom sympathy as he watched himself hit the ledge of the hotel's roof. His blood, blackened by the lack of color on the TV, pooled around his body. With a defiant comeback, his past self melted away into his shadows.

In one fell swoop, everyone knew that he had been forced to retreat, to run from the fight. Everyone else had fought to the end. Had triumphed or died trying.

But not the big, bad Radio Demon, who had run with his tail between his legs.

That insignificant, sanctimonious gnat. Alastor knew he should have killed Vox when he had the chance. It had been a moment of weakness. He had had Vox at his mercy, had been posed to kill him. And then he had spared the sniveling little picture box, because once upon a time Alastor had been convinced there had been something between them. That they were at the very least friends.

What a silly, terrible little mistake that had been.

"Alastor?"

With the ease that came from a life time of packing everything away behind a care free smile (that never did fully cover everything, no matter how hard he tried), Alastor forced himself to calm down. When he turned his attention to Rosie, no one but she would have been able to tell he was infuriated. "Yes, my dear?"

"Doris, Harold, give us moment, won't you?" Despite Rosie posing it as such, it was not actually a request.

The couple didn't need to be told twice, all too happy to leave the scary Overlords to their privacy. They may have been curious, but they weren't that curious.

Once they were out of the room, Rosie stated, "That was a nasty wound."

And it had hurt terribly, but he wasn't about to say that. He didn't really need to. She had seen how he'd suffered herself, for all that he hadn't allowed her to see the wound. Alastor's anger softened, if only for her. "I'm fine! Right as rain! His Majesty's blood is quite potent." He twirled his staff, once, and then ran the finger tips of his free hand down the pole. "See, even my staff is all repaired."

Rosie watched him for a moment longer. "The broadcast a few days ago. It was on every TV. We couldn't turn the channel." Her head tilted to the side. "Was that your work?"

His smile widened, guilt as charged.

Having proof of his recovery in the form of his own show of power, and having done so so recently, eased her worries. It was a better show of proof than merely his word. "I'm sure you have something planned in response to this." Her own customary smile returned. "You always are a planner."

Alastor did indeed. Merely cutting off and interrupting the broadcat would do little good at this point. It was undoubtedly all over Hell's internet by now. He could, however, temporarily take out Voxtek's main satellite. A high enough burst of radio waves should fry the satellite's delicate circuits. It wouldn't be too long before they were back on the air, Vox was proficient like that, sadly, but it would be such a terrible inconvenience while it was down.

For such an attack, he would need to be in his radio tower. It would save him using up all of the energy he had just recovered from his latest feeding by letting the tower do some of the heavy lifting. "Oh yes," he assured, tone full of dark promises of future mischief. "I know just the thing to let dear ol' Vox know that I received the message loud and clear."

"Well, don't let me hold you up." Rosie giggled, shoo'ing him on his way. "It's always best to show these young upstarts their place before they get too full of themselves."

"Until next time, my dear." He waved at her, a little curl of the fingers, just as he dissolved into his shadows. He didn't want to be intercepted before he could take care of business.

Before the day was done, Vox was going to know he was very displeased with him.

tbc

Part 18