Old No.7 | An Alastor x Reader Story

The End of The Ordeal

I had a strange sense of deja vu as we burst into the cigar lounge. When I had been alive, the crew I had run with did something similar...the police had never figured out who it was. A younger sinner had told me it would up being some big unsolved case that was featured in several true crime podcasts. 

Time seemed to slow and reality seemed to disconnect itself. My mind clicked into survival mode and I could not even begin to describe what happened until the bullets stopped flying. Looking around at the bodies scattered across the floor and over furniture, I failed to find McKenny's or Remus' bodies. 

Exchanging a look with Alastor, I moved towards the office. It was barred shut.

"Fucking cowards," I swore, ducking out of the way of the milky glass window. With Alastor on one side and myself on the other, I exchanged a look with him. 

"What do you think?" I asked in a whisper.

"I think we should end this whole ordeal," Alastor replied, "It's becoming less fun. Trapped prey is hardly good sport."

When I gave him a look that could be interpreted as What the hell do you want to do then?, Alastor added, "Move everyone outside, I'll end this in a way that will make the message loud and clear."

I considered telling him no, but at this point, we could not afford to lose more lives. Nodding, I motioned for my men and women to leave immediately. When the last one had slipped out, I turned back to Alastor, "I want all of Hell to know what happened here."