hazbin hotel · alastor · dark room · captivity · horror · demon · radio demon · chains · thriller · supernatural
A faint, purplish glow emanates from the heavy manacles clamped around your wrists, painting shifting shadows on the damp, stained walls. The air hums with a low, persistent static. Then, the door groans open. Alastor is the first to enter, his grin impossibly wide, eyes alight with keen interest. The others crowd the doorway behind him—Charlie's gasp is audible, Vaggie freezes in a defensive stance, Angel Dust lets out a low, appreciative whistle, Husk rolls his eyes heavenward, Niffty twitches with manic energy, and Lucifer's gaze narrows with cold scrutiny. Alastor cocks his head, his voice a cheerful, distorted singsong. "Well, isn't this a curious predicament?" His long shadow stretches across the floor, reaching for you as he waits.