"You think you're funny, don't you?" Alastor's eyes narrowed into thin slits, his radio voice rumbling through the crowded bar.
The man who had just spilled Alastor's drink looked up with a sheepish grin. He had a mop of blond hair that stuck out in every direction and a nose that looked like it had been broken a few too many times. "Just a little clumsy, pal," he said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.
Alastor took a slow, deliberate step closer, his trench coat swirling around his ankles like a shadow coming to life. "I don't tolerate clumsiness," he growled, his tentacles lashing the air like a whip. The grin slipped off the man's face, replaced by a look of dawning horror.
The tension in the room grew thick, the laughter and chatter fading to a murmur as the patrons of the hotel bar sensed the impending conflict. They knew better than to get in the way of the Radio Demon when he was in a foul mood. The air grew electric with anticipation, charged by the dark aura that surrounded Alastor.
"Alastor, please," the bartender, a cat-like demon with classical demon wings and a name tag reading 'Husk', stepped in, his voice tight with tension. "It's a crowded night, and we can't have this kind of scene." He placed a gentle hand on his arm, trying to ease the situation, but his eyes remained on the trembling blond man.
Ignoring Husk, Alastor leaned in closer to the blond man, his breath reeking of brimstone. "You know who I am," he hissed, his eyes burning with an otherworldly glow. "You know what I'm capable of."
The blond man swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I-I didn't mean anything by it," he stammered, his eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape that wasn't there.
Alastor's smile grew wider, showing a hint of his sharp teeth. The blond man's eyes went wide with terror as he realized the gravity of his mistake. Alastor was the most feared and respected demon in the hotel, not someone to mess with, especially not over a simple spilled drink.
"Let it be a lesson to you," Alastor continued, his grip on the man's shirt tightening. "Mess with me, and you'll regret it for all eternity!" The man nodded frantically, his eyes watering. Some looked confused at Alastor's cheerful tone
With a sudden jerk, Alastor yanked him off his stool and threw him across the room. The sound of glass shattering and demons gasping filled the air as the blond man collided with a table, sending chairs flying and drinks spilling everywhere. The patrons quickly scurried out of the way, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.
The blond man groaned, clutching his side where he'd hit the edge of the table. "I-I'm sorry, Alastor," he whimpered, trying to push himself up on his elbows.
Alastor's smile didn't falter as he strolled over, his boots thudding heavily on the sticky floor. He grabbed the man by the collar and hauled him to his feet, bringing their faces dangerously close. "You're sorry," he repeated, his tone mocking. "But sorry won't fix my drink, will it?"
The man's eyes widened further, and he shook his head frantically. "No, no, it won't," he squeaked. "But I'll buy you another, I promise!
Alastor's grin grew, and for a moment, the man thought he might actually get off with just that. But then, the demon's expression shifted, turning darker. "That's not good enough," he murmured, his eyes glowing with malevolent amusement. "You see, I don't just want a new drink. I want to make sure you remember this little lesson."
With a flick of his wrist, Alastor sent the man sprawling to the ground. A tentacle from Alastor's back lashed out, coiling around the blond's leg, and with a wrench that made the bones in the room ache in sympathy, Alastor yanked him back over. The man's scream was cut off as Alastor planted a boot firmly on his chest, pinning him down. The crowd was now a mix of fear and excitement, some cheering, others placing bets on the outcome.
Husk looked on with a mix of exasperation and concern. He knew Alastor had a temper, but he also knew that he didn't usually go this far. Still, he didn't dare to interfere again. The Radio Demon was notorious for his mood swings and unpredictability, and the last thing Husk wanted was to be on the receiving end of that wrath
The blond man's face was now a sickly shade of green, his eyes bulging as Alastor's boot pressed down on him. "Please," he choked out, his voice barely audible over the din of the bar. "I'll do anything!
Alastor leaned in, his grin widening. "Anything?" he said. "Let's make a deal, you give me your soul, I forget this... fiasco happened" "Again with the deals?" Husky groaned from across the room, "What has that, Husker?" Alastor responded without looking up from the man, slightly pulling on the chain that was Husk's soul. Husk's eyes widened, "Nothing!"
The blond man's eyes went even wider, if that was possible, as he took in Alastor's proposition. He knew that once you gave your soul to a demon like Alastor, there was no going back. But the alternative was... less than appealing. With a trembling hand, he reached up and placed it in Alastor's. "D-deal," he gasped out.
Alastor's smile grew, showing even more of his sharp teeth. He took the man's hand in his own, the heat from his palm making the man's skin feel like it was burning. A green glow surrounded their clasped hands, and the air grew thick with the scent of sulfur. The crowd held their breath, watching the ancient contract unfold.
With a sudden flourish, Alastor pulled out a quill and a parchment that seemed to materialize from thin air. "Let's make it official," he said, his voice low and amused. The blond man nodded, his eyes never leaving Alastor's. He knew he had no choice.
The quill hovered over the parchment, and with a flick of his wrist, Alastor sliced through the air, drawing a line of blood from the man's palm. The blood sizzled and smoked as it hit the paper, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake. The blond man winced, but didn't pull away, his fear of what might happen if he did overriding the pain.
Alastor leaned over the parchment, his eyes glowing with a fierce concentration. The air around his hand crackled with power as he began to write in a script that was ancient and terrifying to behold. The man's soul quivered in his chest, feeling the unseen bonds of the contract tighten around him like a noose.
"Now, now, let's not be hasty," Alastor said, his voice dropping to a murmur. "We need to make sure the terms are... satisfactory." He paused, his pen hovering over the paper, and looked up at the man. "You do understand what you're signing away, don't you?"
The blond man nodded frantically, his eyes never leaving the demon's. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breath came in quick gasps. "Y-yes, I understand," he stuttered.
Alastor chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down the spines of the onlookers. "Good," he said, and with a swift motion, he finished writing the contract. He offered the quill to the blond man, the nib still dripping with the ink of his own blood. "Your signature, if you please."
The man took the quill with a trembling hand, the weight of the decision heavy on his shoulders. He signed his name in a shaky scrawl, the ink sizzling as it hit the paper. The moment the last letter was penned, a gust of wind blew through the bar, extinguishing the candles and leaving only the dim glow of the neon signs outside to cast eerie shadows. The air grew colder, and the smell of brimstone intensified.
Alastor took the contract and held it up to the light, examining it with a critical eye. The blond man lay there, panting and sweating, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting some sort of immediate punishment. "Ah, perfection," Alastor said finally, snapping his fingers. The parchment disappeared in a puff of smoke. The lights flickered back on, the wind died down, and the room temperature returned to normal.
The demon released the man's leg, and he collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. "Now," Alastor said, his tone businesslike, "you have three days to settle your affairs. After that, your soul is mine." He turned away, signaling the end of the confrontation. The crowd, which had been holding its collective breath, slowly began to disperse, whispering among themselves about the deal that had just been struck.
The blond man, now named Vox by the regulars of the bar, lay there for a few moments, stunned and terrified. He had heard the legends of the Radio Demon's deals, but never thought he'd be the one to make one. He knew he had to leave, to run as far and as fast as he could, but fear had rooted him to the spot. But then that fear morphed into anger, he would get his soul back, he would defeat Alastor.
Fan made Vox origin!
