Chapter Text
He wasn't quite sure how it happened, or what happened, but it's safe to say that Alastor was jumped. Now, Alastor can handle himself, he's the Radio Demon of course, but every now and then someone comes along and catches him, unfortunately, at the wrong time. Unfortunate for him anyways, anyone would jump at the chance to take him down. The Vees happened to be this "someone" this time.
He lay in a blood-stained alley, hidden behind a dumpster, pressing a hand to his sanguine hair.
"Fuck." he swore, glancing around the compact space.
He noticed two alarming details. One being that what he thought was a two-way alley behind an old bank, was actually a dead end, meaning he was trapped. Two being that he was losing more blood from his gut the longer he waited. He cursed Vox and his distasteful business partners internally.
The Vees have been causing havoc all across the pentagram, trying to rally sinners against the Hazbin Hotel and Charlie's plans, saying that the hotel "Makes the Pride Ring an even greater target for heaven". Really, the Vees are only looking for more power and followers, not, as they put it, protection from heaven. Greedy assholes.
Carmilla had summoned them all to another meeting, and while usually Alastor would attend only one every so often, this meeting seemed quite urgent and important. With the death of Adam, heaven has been calling Lucifer to meetings with the elders, leaving the deer demon the sole protector of the hotel. While this normally wouldn't be a problem, Alastor had to leave the hotel for the overlord meeting, leaving the hotel defenseless. And, to boot, he was suffering the side effects of having been dealt an angelic injury.
He glanced over to his shadow, who was glaring at him. "Don't look at me like that," Alastor scoffed, "This is your fault too, if you hadn't been so insistent that we 'take the safer route' I would already be at the meeting." He glared back at his shadow, shifting to lay on his side. The shadow, Whisp, only scowled harder at him, crossing their fluid-like arms.
'The Vees have become very influential recently. We shouldn't have gone at all,' Whisp's voice reverberated in Alastor's thoughts, 'Lucifer is right, you are like a child, unable to see logic.' they snarled.
"Me? A child! Ha! He's one to talk. What, with his vertically challenged anatomy, and his ridiculous obsession with ducks of all things!" Alastor fisted the hand currently in his hair, tugging at his coat with the other. He winced in pain as he shifted his torso.
'Enough of that. We should get back to the hotel and ask the princess for help. You need to address these attacks, doesn't matter if you can handle them.' The shadow got up, drifting over to their aggravated master. "Yes, we can easily slaughter all of the goons the Vees send over, but quite soon it will grow tiring and then we will be overwhelmed. Not to mention the immense mental stress it is putting on dear Charlotte." The deer let his hand fall down onto his lap. Whisp lowered their volume, despite other sinners not being able to hear them. "Our side of the deal will be unfulfilled as well should anything bad happen to Charlotte or her ambitions. We will never be free, or able to reach our goals and highest potential."
Alastor grunted, grabbing onto the wall behind his himself. He snapped Whisp out of existence and stumbled over garbage and other useless objects. He peaked his head out of the alley, scanning the deserted streets for any threats. Vox had long since lost track of Alastor, leaving in a fit of rage. No doubt he was killing some of his poor employees back at the Vee tower.
From ear to hoof, Alastor was covered in bruises and cuts from his gruesome fight with Vox. The fight was not one-sided of course, Vox got his share, if not more, of injuries. As did Valentino and Velvette, but Valentino was thrown into a building and didn't get back up early in the fight, and Velvette just filmed the entire thing.
He started down the street, heading back from where he had started this entire escapade. He was definitely not going to listen to his shadow companion and tell Charlie, or anyone for that matter, about this incident. He felt a sudden twinge in his side, and stopped to look at his load of wounds. Suffice to say he was impressed when he realized the stinging in his side was from an angelic blade. When had that gotten there? Vox must have thrown it at him, because the deer couldn't recall any actual physical contact, only eldritch and electrical power really. Along with the angelic blade was a butt-load of electrical burns. He glanced around the street, eyes zeroing in on a pharmacy.
'They must have bandages, if stragglers didn't grab them already.' the demon heard his shadow comment. He felt the tell-tale coolness of his companion's touch on his shoulders. 'We need to move, your bleeding all over the sidewalk.' he saw it glance at the growing red puddle beneath his foot. Alastor heeded the wise words and made his way across the street. He entered the abandoned building, spotting the empty register counter and deserted aisles. He snapped his fingers and produced a lantern.
He stalked the long halls of expired supplies, searching for basic medical aid. Usually, he doesn't need to resort to pharmacological methods, but ever since his failure at fighting Adam, hence his unfortunate incision across his torso, he hasn't been able to control his magic long enough to heal himself. At least once a day he needs to change the bandages surrounding his angelic wound.
He silently cheered in victory when he came across a shelf of disinfectant and gauze. He went to grab the items, but a dark hand beat him to it. He turned and glared at Whisp, the shadow shaking it's head and gesturing for the deer demon to sit. Alastor complied, albeit reluctantly and sat on some low shelves just short enough for him to sit comfortably, he shed his overcoat and shirt and stacked them on a nearby shelf.
Whisp got to work peeling back the old bandages on his angelic wound, ignoring the hiss of pain from its master, and dabbed the disinfectant over the burns and cuts he got from his fight.
Over the course of half an hour, Alastor sat on the cold metal, grumpily thankful to his shadow that he didn't need to do the work of cleaning up his own mess. Whisp had just finished wrapping the last of the gauze over his angelic wound. The deer donned his shirt and overcoat again, and the two made their way out of the store. the street was as they left it, deserted and covered in the bodies of victims from the fight. He continued his trek back to the hotel, too tired and weak to even attempt to travel through the shadows.
"It's going to be a long night." He said to no one in particular.