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Every radio wave in the pride ring bounced constantly against Alastor's senses, a small background noise that was easy for him to ignore or use if necessary. THE Radio Demon indeed. There was always a certain pride that came over him when he heard the name. Being known for his successes and his achievements, not for his appearance, always left a sweet taste in Alastor's mouth.
It was the taste of victory.
Feared and worshiped, he did not need to possess territory like so many of the other Sovereign Overlords because his control, his power, extended throughout the population far beyond the possession of souls (although possessing them never hurt). Alastor's influence was much broader than anyone assumed and he would never reveal. After all, it was always good to have an ace up your sleeve.
Walking down the street Alastor greeted politely, even when conversations were scarce. Sometimes Alastor longed for good conversations, so few people fulfilled that. Rosie, the lovely lady of Cannibal Town, had certainly proven herself to live up to any expectations; his interactions with Zestial always made him slightly nervous, but they were also stimulating and, in extreme need and lack of company, Husker was quite entertaining. People according to his heart. Intelligent, insightful, with a vengeful streak the size of the Mississippi, and they understood in a way that very few in Alastor's life had.
Alastor turned a corner into the booming entertainment district and felt as if his entire system lit up from the tips of his ears to the tips of his feet.
Someone was transmitting, but it was not a transmission like any I had experienced before. All the big televisions in the store windows lit up and erased previous programming. If Alastor gave him even a fraction of his attention he could perceive the signal that was interfering with the frequency.
Blue. Electric. Effusive.
The person on the other end was trying a little too hard, the signal dropping every few seconds before recovering, just as the man on the screen couldn't quite keep up with the presenter's intonation. His mask is good but unstable.
Alastor waited until the TV-headed presenter had disappeared from the spotlight to allow a group of dancers to perform before touching the signal he was transmitting.
Surprise. Fear. Delight.
Do you feel Me. Alastor asked curiously.
Who are you? the presence asked, almost interrupting his own work as the screens faded to black and white before recovering.
Alastor gasped. The words were more than mere sounds, they wrapped around him and passed through him as if they were a part of himself, as if he had known the person on the other side all his life even without knowing anything about him.
That had never happened.
There had never been anyone like him.
His emotions became a tangled mess, he wasn't sure what he was sure of, but he couldn't let himself back down, he had to size up this potential threat.
He didn't respond immediately. Instead he located the sign and used its shadow to move, the poor fool had no protection around him.
"The Radio Demon, of course, dear" he laughed, appearing behind him.
“Shit!” The eyes on the big screen lit up in surprise and opened like crashed eggs.
The fool was still broadcasting openly. Alastor could feel his admiration and fear serving as a balm to his worries. He looked around at the small studio and the little contest he was hosting.
"Alastor, Radio Demon. A pleasur" he purred, enjoying watching the other sinner jump and squeeze his hand enthusiastically.
Electricity coursed through him, the sinner's shallow thoughts mixed with his own, his enthusiasm glowed and Alastor's smile sharpened.
This demon was not yet a big deal and his power, limited to television, was no greater than Alastor's, but with a little effort... Alastor could polish this diamond in the rough and take it to the heights.
It seemed that Alastor had found a new project.