Vaggie The Moth Babe

Chapter 16: Alastor's Rancor

Alastor slammed the door of his room shut, his grin fading instantly as the calm façade he'd worn moments ago melted away. His usual charming composure cracked, and his red eyes glowed with fury. The static that always buzzed around him intensified, filling the room with an oppressive energy that mirrored his rage.

He stormed toward the mirror, gripping the edge of the dresser with white-knuckled hands as he stared at his reflection. His grin twitched, curling into something far more sinister, his sharp teeth bared as he spat out his venomous thoughts.

"That self-righteous bastard," Alastor growled, his voice laced with raw anger. "That pompous, arrogant little dwarf dares to lecture me like I'm some lowly commoner? I've been ruling the airwaves since long before he ever crawled his way out of that fucking celestial spotlight."

His hands clenched tighter around the edge of the dresser, and a crack splintered through the wood beneath his grip. The Radio Demon's eyes gleamed with malice as he continued to rant, his usual poetic cadence replaced by a seething rage.

"King of Hell? What a joke! He's nothing more than a washed-up egomaniac playing house in his fancy little palace." Alastor's lips curled into a sneer as he leaned closer to the mirror, his reflection distorting in the glass as static hissed around him. "Acting like he's so far above the rest of us... But what has he really done lately, huh? Sat on his fucking ass making rubber ducks? Pathetic."

The thought of Lucifer's smug face, with his golden eyes looking down on him, only fueled Alastor's fury further. He paced around the room, his steps heavy and deliberate as the tension inside him coiled tighter. His cane tapped against the floor, but there was no grace or charm in his movements now—only barely contained wrath.

"'You're insignificant,' he says," Alastor mocked in a high-pitched, sarcastic tone, recalling Lucifer's words. "'Beneath me.' Oh, how quaint." His voice dropped into a guttural snarl. "We'll see just how insignificant I am when I turn this entire damned place on its head. We'll see who's laughing when his precious daughter—" He cut himself off, his grin returning, though now it was twisted into something far darker.

He took a breath, forcing himself to calm down, though the malice in his eyes never wavered. "I'll bide my time. I always do. He thinks he's untouchable, but there's always a way to bring even the highest to their knees. And when the moment comes, oh, how sweet it will be..."

Alastor chuckled darkly, the sound grating and filled with static. "Lucifer Morningstar may be the King of Hell, but even kings can be toppled. And when they fall, it's the ones they underestimate who deliver the final blow."

He turned back to the mirror, smoothing his suit as his demeanor began to shift, the venom receding but not disappearing. He regained his composure, the smile that stretched across his face now the calm, confident mask he always wore in public. But beneath it, the hatred still simmered, waiting for the right moment to erupt.

"For now," Alastor whispered to himself, "I'll let him have his little kingdom, his little delusions of grandeur. But one day, dear Lucifer... you'll know exactly what it means to be insignificant."

With one final glance at his reflection, Alastor straightened his tie, his red eyes gleaming with the promise of vengeance. He walked over to his radio, flicking it on and letting the static fill the room. The sound soothed him, reminded him of the power he held over the masses, even if Lucifer refused to acknowledge it.

He grinned as the familiar hum of his broadcast echoed through the room. "Good evening, dear listeners," Alastor purred into the microphone, his voice as smooth as ever. "Stay tuned, for the best is yet to come..."

And with that, the Radio Demon's anger was locked away, hidden behind his ever-present smile, though the fire of his resentment still burned brightly beneath the surface.