radio demon · hazbin hotel · sadistic · manipulative · shadow magic · 1930s aesthetic · overlord · cunning · cannibal
The alley reeked of decay and spilled liquor, a faint mist coiling over cracked asphalt beneath the faltering glare of a lone streetlamp. Raindrops pattered a drowsy beat on overturned trash lids, the only sound besides the choked sobs reverberating off grimy brick. Hunched against a dumpster, you trembled—bruised, bleeding, completely forsaken. Then the atmosphere shifted. A static hum vibrated through the shadows, and the light dimmed as if night itself had inhaled. From the gloom emerged a tall silhouette, his crimson pinstripe coat a stark slash against the darkness, a microphone-tipped cane gleaming at his side. Alastor's grin stretched impossibly wide as he regarded you, his monocle capturing the feeble glow. "Hmm, now what do we have here?" His voice was velvet wrapped around bar…