Chapter Text
Hell is exactly as Lucifer described it to be: a sickening red, burning trash pile full of the worst humanity has to offer. Alastor breathes in the sulfur, ears twitching, as he steps over another body strewn carelessly across the street. He keeps his hands pressed tightly behind his back, microphone in hand—the same one Lucifer had given him decades ago—as his very presence causes sinner demons to scurry out of his path.
Alastor looks to the sky—blood red—and stares at Heaven, a bright glowing white dot. It taunts him every day with how near it is, but also how far. Alastor supposes the punishment is befitting someone of his ilk—someone prideful enough to see themselves above God and the divine beings that stand behind him—and he can accept that. Alastor had long since lain in the bed he had made for himself, and has used it to his advantage.
It had been a long few decades in hell. When he first woke up, the only thing left behind from his time on Earth was his memories, what he had on his person when he died, and the microphone Lucifer gave him. He had no idea what to do now. Alastor had checked the microphone his angel had given him first because he was sure that he didn’t bring that with him to the forest (it was too important to carry around willy nilly) and had found it humming softly, turned on despite the lack of electricity. The eye at the center of it had moved, looked at him, and then immediately insulted him.
Alastor had recognized this as a gift from Lucifer—the last one he would ever receive, he’s sure—but for what purpose? He had no clue. Regardless, Alastor takes the microphone and the power it holds and ventures into Hell.
Taking down overlords, solidifying his reputation as the radio demon, and inducing fear into the masses becomes child’s play with this much power. Alastor is almost unsure if Lucifer fully realizes what exactly he has just given him. Almost.
The yearly exterminations of sinner demons in the Pride Ring is a massacre that frequently delights Alastor. It’s what they all deserved after all—punishment, torture, death. However, it seems he was blessed by his angel (a guarantee to survive, perhaps) which made it so the exterminations are not a problem in the least. An average exorcist’s weapons can’t break the microphone and Alastor can easily overpower the angels enough to flee to safety.
So typical of Lucifer to protect him, even after death when he proved to be an irredeemable sinner that wasted his time and patience.
Alastor stops behind a crowd of demons surrounding a television set behind a store’s glass window. On the screen is the tacky, mean-looking news anchor on the 666 News. On principle, Alastor doesn’t watch television as it is inferior to radio in just about every way, but this immediately catches his eye. Well, not the broadcast in particular, but the special guest that Katie Killjoy presents on screen.
There is a girl with the same hair, pale skin, and reddish stain on both cheeks like a permanent blush. The nose is different, the height is too much, and the eyes are completely off—red instead of bright blue, but the kindness and idealistic optimism are the same. The girl sings of redemption, a hotel as a rehabilitation center for sinners in place of the yearly exterminations, and Alastor knows for sure.
There is no way around it.
Charlie Morningstar—Princess Regent of Hell, and the daughter of Lucifer Morningstar.