Old No.7 | An Alastor x Reader Story

Staring Contest With A Corpse

Alastor was waiting for us at the entrance of the warehouse. His grin was a mile wide as he said by way of greeting, "The boys are just finishing up checking for any stragglers. We should be ready to light the fuse any moment now."

I looked around the dimly lit warehouse. Bodies were piled unceremoniously by the door, blood pooling and seeping closer towards our boots. Beyond the pile was crate after crate of guns, liquor, and other various goods. 

"Find whatever you can for tinder," I told the young sinner, interrupting his staring contest with one of the corpses, "And spread it out. Do you have the gas?"

He nodded, holding up the canister he had lugged along on the walk, "Y-yes, ma'am."

"Good," I motioned towards deeper inside the warehouse, "Go nuts. Don't get any gas on yourself."

Alastor and I watched the young sinner scramble off with his order. Beside me, Alastor chuckled, "Poor kid, what is he? Eighteen? Nineteen?"

"Twenty," I answered.

"And you've managed to lure him into a life of bootlegging and arson," Alastor nudged me playfully. 

I gave him a coy smile, "This is Hell, you either learn the tools of the trade or you fall prey to those who have learned."