Two Times That Rosie Took Care Of Alastor and Niffty

Doctor Rosie

It had been a few hours now since the battle for Hell was over. Adam had been slain, and Lute had ordered the surviving angels to flee. Charlie had won, but not without cost, and the hotel had been destroyed, and Sir Pentious had died defending the hotel, along with some of the cannibals who had volunteered to help. Charlie and the others were now digging through the wreckage of the hotel to see if they could salvage anything, but so far had found nothing but dead, or dying exorcists and cannibals. Niffty happily stabbed the exorcists still clinging to their lives, while the others helped the cannibal medics pull the wounded from the wreckage so that they could be taken to the Cannibal Town hospital for treatment. The dead were given the Cannibal Town's funerary rites before being carted away to be devoured by their loved ones—It was customary in the Cannibal Town for a deceased's person's corpse to be eaten by their loved ones. Meanwhile, the cannibals who had gotten away unscathed got straight to feasting upon the angels' corpses, or dragging them home to cook with.

"Alright, almost everyone's accounted for now," Rosie said as another ambulance departed for the Cannibal Town hospital, "Everyone...Except for Alastor..."

Charlie took her tiara off, choking back a sob as she looked in the direction of Alastor's radio tower. "I still can't believe that he's dead...After everything that he did for us, I couldn't save him," she said miserably, "I shouldn't have put him in charge of fighting Adam!"

Rosie shook her head. "Now, now, we can't be certain that he's dead yet, your highness. Just because we haven't found him, it doesn't mean that he's definitely dead."

"But he was fighting Adam, and then he disappeared, and nobody's seen him since then," she continued, wiping her eyes, "If he was still alive, then he would've kept fighting, wouldn't he?"

Husk looked at her like she didn't know who she was talking about. "Do you really think Alastor would've died for this place, princess?" the old sinner grumbled, "The last thing he wants is to die a hero. He teleported away as soon as he got too injured to fight."

He almost added, 'unfortunately' under his breath, but Rosie shot him an icy glare, and he did the sensible thing and shut his mouth. The last thing he wanted was to end up on Rosie's dinner table.

"He's right! I checked in my pocket for my soul contract, but I don't have it, so that means that Alastor is still alive!" Niffty added, "He's probably in his radio tower! We have to go and find him!"

Whenever an overlord died, their soul contracts automatically went back to whoever they originally belonged to. Niffty had seen it happen firsthand when Alastor had killed Lord Crow, an overlord from 1800s Mississippi who forced weaker sinners into becoming his slaves by threatening them until they gave him their souls. If they refused, Lord Crow killed them on the spot with angelic weapons. As soon as Lord Crow was dead, soul contracts had started magically appearing in his victims' pockets, and many of them had been crying and thanking Alastor as they'd fled Lord Crow's mansion.

"But his tower collapsed along with the rest of the hotel!" Charlie cried, "If he's there, then that means..."

"That means that we'll have to dig him out of the wreckage, just like the others. If he was strong enough to get himself out of there, he would have done so by now," Rosie said grimly, "We have to get him to safety, and treat his wounds."

Everyone except for Lucifer and Husk got to work on digging through the wreckage of Alastor's radio tower, tossing the debris to one side as they slowly, but surely uncovered the radio demon. Alastor was collapsed on his side like a rag doll, his overcoat ripped open and covered in blood. He was breathing raggedly, and his eyes were squeezed shut in pain.

Rosie got out a handkerchief and wiped away the blood on his left ear. "Alastor, sweetheart, it's Rosie. Can you hear me?"

Alastor's ears folded back against his head, and he coughed up a spurt of blood before giving a tiny, high pitched squeak in response, like a baby animal.