Hazbin Trashcan

Attitudes and Acceptance

Her jaw snapped and the sound that emitted from her throat sent shockwaves through the nearby area. Beatrice growled again and grabbed a fleeing demon by the throat, ripping out the vocal chords with one fell swoop.

A low, guttural sound came from her left side and she turned and peered upward. Alastor, fully formed in his Wendigo, stood next to her with his hand held out expectantly. Bea’s nostrils flared and she clutched the demon closer, fully intent on running off with it.

Whenever they went hunting together, it was common practice for any of Alastor’s children to give up their first kill to him. It was a value he had instilled in them from the first hunt; it was about time that she challenged him.

Beatrice took a step back at the same time that Alastor took a step forward. She snarled at him, her singular radio dial flickering brightly as she brought the demon to her mouth and tore off an arm in one movement.

Alastor let out a growl and swiped forward, knocking her off her feet. All eight feet of her fell to the ground and for a moment, her Wendigo side slipped and she began to fade back into her normal demon form. She grasped onto her rage and went back into her hunting state, tossing the body at Alastor’s feet and getting up, trotting away from him to hunt for another.

The Radio Demon sighed, picking up the mangled corpse and tearing through the chest to get to the heart. It had started to cool in the time that she decided to challenge him and it wasn’t as good. He stored this challenge in the back of his mind as Franklin came up on his other side and handed him a fresh body.

His son gave him a once over and then shook his head, running off to chase after Bea and begin the chaotic mess that they always did create when the two of them began to hunt together.

 

Bea nudged Franklin as they approached the estate, blood dripping down her jaw, “That was fun.”

“Dad’s a little pissed with you,” Franklin rubbed his eyes. He felt exahusted; the three of them had stayed out hunting a little bit late into the afternoon. Normally, they’d start at about eleven and be home by three; it was six.

They’d just been extra hungry that day.

“Sucks to suck.” Bea shrugged, licking her lips, “I wanted my first kill. He doesn’t need to be such a bitch about it.”

“What was that?”

Bea paled, glancing over her shoulder. Damn his spatial warping; she was almost a hundred percent sure that he could hear her where ever she was, “Nothing.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his grin unamused, “After you take a shower, come to my office, darling.”

Franklin and Bea moved apart so that Alastor could walk between them, peering at Bea through the corner of his eyes as he walked past. She stared back, feeling a small amount of anger burning in her throat. Alastor was still as clean as he had been the moment they’d left for the hunt; he wasn’t a fan of getting covered in blood or any sort of body fluids. Franklin and Bea enjoyed it; they thought being painted with the red made them look scarier.

“Ha! You’re in trouble!” Franklin teased, grinning at her widely, “Sucks to be you! Maybe you shouldn’t be so greedy!”