Crimson Radio

Chapter Two

I watch from the large chair I've sat in as Alastor dresses himself, humming.

"Where have you been Alastor?" I ask abruptly. Alastor stops humming and glances at me from the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth curling into an even wider smile. My stomach sinks seeing his smile grow into a sadistic Cheshire grin. Alastor turns towards me slowly, buttoning his shirt.

"That's for me to know," His response is simple, but drips with malice.

"If you're summoning to use me as a punching bag I at least have the right to know where you've been and why you've chosen to summon me now."

The air around Alastor grows dark and thick, oppressive. His eyes turn to radio dials, the lights in the room beginning to flicker as his antlers begin to creep toward the ceiling. His already tall frame doubles in size, having to bend forward as he steps towards me, his face mere inches from mine. My body trembles as I cringe and shrink into the chair.

"How dare you question me," Alastor's voice drops and is filled with radio static. "I summon you when I please because we made a deal. You don't 'have a right' to know where I've been or why I've summoned you. If you dare to question me again I will tear your soul to bits and broadcast your pathetic cries for everyone in Hell. Understood?"

"Y-yes sir, I understand." I whimper, tripping over my words. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Alastor's smile turns into one of pleasantness as he returns to his normal form, his voice now smooth as he speaks. Alastor places his index finger under my chin, lifting my head towards him so that my gaze is forced to meet his. "Good girl."

Alastor pats my head and turns away from me swiftly. He makes his way to his door, unlocks it, and pulls it open, he turns his head to look at me over his shoulder. He pats the side of his thigh and whistles, "Come along."

I choke back my disgust as I scurry out of the chair and hurry to follow behind him like an obedient little dog. Alastor's body language is confident and relaxed as he strides through the hallways of the hotel. His arms crossed behind his back. I furrow my brows when I realize he isn't carrying his microphone cane with him.

"Alastor?" I say quietly, keeping my gaze focused on the ground.

"Hm?" Alastor hums nonchalantly.

"Where is..." I pause, glancing up at him for his reaction. When there is no reaction I continue, "Where is your cane?"

Alastor's steps falter for just a moment, almost unnoticeable. "Where my cane is none of your concern, my dear."

I don't say anything else, keeping my eyes trained on the floor as we continue making our way through the many long and narrow hallways. The air is stale and musty, the lighting is dim, and the walls are covered in dark red wallpaper. There are gold accents along the walls and door frames, and the dark red carpet is covered in various stains. I see flashes of roaches and other bugs as they skitter into the shadows.

"Where are we?" I ask quietly.

"Why, we're at the Hazbin Hotel, darling." Alastor beams, throwing his arms out to the sides and spinning towards me like a great showman.

"How many people stay here?"

"It was seven...I suppose it still is seven just one has been replaced." Alastor answers as he resumes his course.

"Replaced?" I wondered aloud, mostly to myself, but Alastor being one to never disappoint responded.

"Yes, let's see," Alastor hums, pondering to himself, "There's me, Charlie Morningstar -"