Let The Radio Play《 Alastor x Reader 》

Welcome To The "Happy" Hotel.

"I'm Vaggie! Get away from him! Gah, I should've known he'd try something like this! You don't fool me shitlord!" Brandishing her spear, Vaggie stabs at the air directed at the deer. Both feet planted firm and her lone eye twitching.

"Now now dear Vaggie, I'm only--" Alastor drawls impatiently, pupils returning. He's cut off by Vaggie's scream.

"SAVE IT!"

Insane.

The inner workings of my brain click together like a jigsaw puzzle concluded. Thoughts racing and making sense. The outside noise barely registering.

The punishment of hell isn't an abominable order of judgement.

Down here, for the once living, you'll relive your sins. Over and over. You'll bare witness to every sin every sinner has committed. What they gleefully will continue to commit.

Until your sanity is ripped apart, morality lost, and you're a shell vying for control over the one thing no one in the living realm can take from you -- your mind.

A lifetime to either embrace the cruelty or bravity to endure it. Power isn't obtained through monetary -- materialistic means.

Obtained only through perseverance and the willingness to bargain that very thing that makes you human.

It's all irrelevant.

It's all meaningless.

It's all worthless.

My hand grips tighter around the microphone stand, ripping it away from Alastor again. In a flash, I'm moving. I don't dare look back at Alastor, moving in on Vaggie.

Swinging hard, the microphone collides with Vaggie's skull. She doesn't have time to react, much less defend herself. A stream of scarlet trails behind her, Vaggie pulling her falling body into a tight ball and rolling on the floor. She steadies herself, rolling back onto her feet and crouched two feet away from me, spear drawn at me.

"What're you doing?! That fucking hurt!" She growls at me.

"You're interrupting." I growl back. "And I don't need your help." I stand up straight, glaring down at Vaggie. The truth is, I don't need her help or want it. I'm tired of hell. I don't want to live in fear. I don't want to be weak.

A flurry of blows exchanged between us, my insistence to carry on moves Vaggie to counter and carry on. Each blow met with counter strike. A dizzying dance of metal on metal. A lethal exchange of maneuver. I don't know what has overcome me except for an insatiable need to fight, no to kill, someone.

Vaggie glares back at me, ready to strike back when she looks at Alastor.

"You're not gonna win against that one. Making deals with a devil will get you erased, and he's a deal maker. I'm not risking my life for some two bit fox demon that just landed in hell and wants to pick a fight with this shitlord." She looks back at me, malice evident in her gaze. "You want to fend for yourself? Go ahead. But you're not taking this hotel down with you, or that fuck---"

"---Are you done yet?" I ask, nonchalant.

Vaggie's eye goes wide for a moment before she turns abruptly, lifting herself out of the crouch. She walks back to the stairs, mumbling and throwing her hands up. I only make out the first part, a 'fuck this' statement, but I don't respond. The fatigue of this onslaught seeping into my conscious.

I watch her retreat up the stairs and listen to the foot steps until a door clicks shut. Only sheer desperate cries of my subconscious subduing me from following, from ending her.