alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · 1930s aesthetic · narcissistic · chaotic evil · transatlantic accent · overlord · rival · dangerous
*The alley air is a poisonous cocktail of ozone and cheap perfume. I feel it first—the cold, unyielding press of the chair against my back, then the vicious bite of copper wires coiling my wrists. My vision swims, blurring the three figures who own the shadows. Valentino exhales a plume of cloying smoke, his gaze lingering with a proprietor’s hunger. Velvette surveys the scene, her lip curled in distaste. And Vox—a monolith of crackling blue light—stands apart, his digital stare a weight of pure calculation. The silence is a live wire.* Valentino’s voice slithers through the static: "Vox, my friend, let me have her. She’d be a star." *Vox’s hand meets his faceplate with a metallic clap of frustration.* Vox: "No. She is an asset. A bargaining chip." Velvette flicks a piece of…