Hell en Pointe | Alastor ✓

chapter 8

You had no idea what Alastor had in store for you.

He sat by himself, just finished with his daily broadcast to the Denizens of Hell on the eleventh floor of the hotel in his recording studio. The air was stale and it was hot (no air conditioning up there), yet Alastor was relaxed, going over his plan over and over again in his mind.

In the end, he wanted to overthrow Lucifer and rule Hell. That was it. But he had to start small. He had to start with Overlords.

A friend of his mentioned something about a ritual that harnessed Earthly energy to permanently raise power levels while on a visit to Cannibal Town, and the idea immediately peaked his interest — that's how he would get enough power to kill Overlords. Even the most powerful of them, like Zestial.

Rosie had casually explained the steps to the procedure on their tea date a few months back, her words entailing something about Earthly personal items to harness that energy. Of course, to get personal items from the Overworld, one would have to travel to the Overworld. And he simply knew he could not harness enough power as is to do that on his own.

But then you showed up. A perfectly delectable, enticing, and undeniably attractive source of power for him to tap into. And you needed your soul back, oh-so desperately, so it all worked out flawlessly for Alastor.

He dreaded the thought. Going to the Overworld with him, retrieving his personal items with you by his side. It made him growl lowly, his smile faltering for a moment. It would take time, he knew, to retrieve the items he needed to draw power from. Time he had to spend with you.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. But that was unlikely, in Alastor's humble opinion.

The way Rosie had discussed it with him, the personal items have some sort of remaining life essence left in them even centuries after one departs from the Overworld to the Afterlife. Alastor hardly believed her at first, but she, his loyal friend, had never fibbed to him before. Alastor had asked her where she had heard such absurdities from, and she replied vaguely with "a friend, who got it from a friend, who got it from another friend."

It was merely a myth, this... ritual. But it was something. It was something plausible enough to give a shot — if it meant he had a start in propelling himself forwards with one simple step into eventually controlling all of Hell, he was willing to try it, even if it was a little too good to be true.

It definitely wouldn't be easy. Especially not with you by his side. You were powerful, sure, and though he would never dare to think it, you were as powerful as him. You would prove... useful. He just hoped you wouldn't prolong the trip with your yapping.

Now, all he had to do was wait for you to come to him...

୨୧

He was back. For fucks sake, he was fucking back!

Vox simply could not believe his words when Valentino had told him. He was cooked. Fried. Dead. His reign as the number one source of mass communication in Hell was over with. People would mock him, laugh at him, see him as a joke. He would lose his status as an Overlord.

After a very incredibly small not very big-deal-at-all mental breakdown over Alastor's return, Vox confided with the Vees first.

"What do I do, what do I do?" repeated Vox hastily, pacing around the room with his flat-screen head clutched in his hands.

"Calm down, babe," groaned Velvette, who was sprawled lazily on the couch with her phone glued to her face. The blue screen highlighted her dainty, sharp features and exposed her neatly applied makeup which, otherwise, would be undetectable. Her ponytails draped over the armrest of the couch like two uniquely colored waterfalls. "That Radio Demon's irrelevant. He's a has-been! Nobody even talks about him on here anymore."

She was referring to her phone. Vox narrowed his eyes. "He may be irrelevant in modern day media, but there are sinners that have been here longer since you've been a fucking sperm cell. They like him a lot more than they like us."

"What's the deal, baby?" cooed Valentino, his tall body lounging casually on the wall. He smoked a cigarettes, puffing out pink, heart-shaped clouds. "Don't get your panties in a twist. He hasn't been back that long."

Vox snapped his head back. "Uh, yeah, but don't you recall how fast he rose to power when he first got here? Don't you remember the stories?" Vox whimpered, rubbing his face in agony. "I'll be gone in a month, tops."

The room was filled with a troubled silence, as if the velvet-adorned couches and Persian rugs and luxurious wallpaper had been fogged over with the tension. They all disliked Alastor, all of the Vees, but nobody hated him like Vox. And, truth be told, although Vox was their friend, their partner, they simply did not care enough to give him real advice.

So, half-joking, Valentino suggested, "Why not go get some information? He's friends with a delectable tall specimen of a woman from Cannibal Town. Rosie. She's an Overlord too, you know."

"And what makes you think she'd answer any of my questions?"

Valentino broke out into laughter, waving his hand to Vox. "Oh, please, dear Vox. Friendships are so fickle in this realm," ironic, for him of all people to say that, "I'm sure with the right words and the right charm you could get anything outta her."

"Oh, for fucks sake, what would she even know, Val?" murmured Velvette, listening in to the absurd conversation. "Don't you think it's a little desperate, and uhm, I don't know, downright pitiful as shit to go to another Overlord to gossip about another Overlord?"

"That's funny coming from you, Velvette," giggled Valentino maniacally. He took another long drag of his smoke and blew out another pink cloud. "You gossip all the time about anyone and anything. You're so bored and pitiful you might as well have just been talking about yourself."

"Fuck off, Val." She threw up her middle finger. He only grinned in amusement, flashing all of his razor-sharp teeth.

"Fine," said Vox suddenly. "I'll talk to that Rosie chick. Maybe she knows what Alastor has planned."

"That's the spirit!" exclaimed Valentino, sauntering to Vox and smacking him on the back. Vox lurched forward from the action. "Good boy."

"Yah, go get eaten alive in that shithole, Vox," sneered Velvette. Her eyes never departed from that stupid screen. "See how that works out for you."

"Don't listen to her," purred Valentino in his ear. "I say give it a shot. Maybe you can put a stop to him before he gives us any... trouble."