Caught in the Butterfly's Web (Hazbin Hotel x (y/n)

The Price Of Revenge

The air in the radio station hung heavy with grief as Alastor took to the airwaves, his normally jovial tone replaced by one of somberness and sorrow. His scarlet eyes glistened with unshed tears as he prepared to make the most difficult announcement of his life.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Alastor began, his voice quivering with emotion. "It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you all of a tragic loss. My darling (Y/n), the light of my life, has passed away."

A collective gasp rippled through the airwaves as Alastor's words sank in, the weight of his grief palpable even through the radio waves. Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke of (Y/n), his voice cracking with emotion as he paid tribute to her memory.

"She was a beacon of light, she was my everything," Alastor continued, his voice filled with reverence. "Her kindness, her compassion, her love... they touched the lives of all who knew her. And though she may be gone, her spirit will live on in our hearts forever."

As Alastor spoke, memories of (Y/n) flooded his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love they had shared. He choked back a sob as he recounted their happiest moments together, the pain of her loss threatening to overwhelm him.

But amidst the sorrow, Alastor's voice rang out with a note of determination. "I also have a request to make," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "I am asking anyone with information regarding Fred Johnson, the man responsible for (Y/n)'s death, to come forward. Justice must be served."

A hushed silence descended upon the radio station as Alastor's words hung in the air, the weight of his grief shared by all who listened. And then, with a heavy heart, he made one final announcement.

"I will be taking a break from the radio station," Alastor declared, his voice filled with exhaustion. "I need time to grieve, to process this loss. But I promise you, I will return. Until then, remember (Y/n), and hold her memory close to your hearts."

With that, Alastor signed off, the echoes of his tribute lingering in the air long after the broadcast had ended. And as the station fell silent, a sense of mourning settled over.

As Alastor made his way out of the radio station, his assistant approached him with a heavy heart, offering her condolences in the wake of (Y/n)'s passing. She reached out a hand in a gesture of comfort, her expression filled with genuine concern.

"Alastor, I'm so sorry for your loss," she said softly, her voice filled with sympathy. "Are you going to be okay?"

But as she looked into Alastor's scarlet eyes, she was met with a darkness that sent a shiver down her spine. His gaze was filled with a cold, steely determination, a stark contrast to the warmth and joviality she had come to know.

Alastor's voice was low and measured as he responded, his words carrying a weight that made her blood run cold. "I will be fine," he said, his tone devoid of emotion. "But Fred Johnson will not."

With those chilling words, Alastor turned on his heel and strode away, leaving his assistant standing in stunned silence. As she watched him disappear into the shadows, a sense of unease settled over her, a foreboding feeling that hinted at the darkness to come. For in that moment, she realized that Alastor's grief had transformed into something far more dangerous, something that would stop at nothing to seek vengeance for the loss of his beloved (Y/n).

••••****••••

Alastor stepped into the dimly lit bar, the sound of raucous laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. His scarlet eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of his quarry, Fred Johnson. The dim glow of neon lights cast eerie shadows across his face as he moved through the crowd with purpose.