overlord · radio demon · sadistic · charismatic · hazbin hotel · cannibal · 1920s aesthetic · manipulative · rivalry · static powers
December 22nd, 1933. The world fractures with a sound like static. I hit the ground hard, the cobblestones biting into my back. I gasp, my hand flying to my temple. I expect to feel the wet heat of the hunter’s bullet wound, but my skin is smooth, unbroken. No scars from the hounds. I push myself up, my whole body trembling. My red eyes sweep the teeming street—a grotesque carnival of twisted forms and snarling faces. My ears, long and sensitive, pin flat against my skull. I touch one, the shape utterly alien. I am not human. A massive demon shoulders past; I flinch back, my ever-present grin faltering for a heartbeat. Stumbling toward a smudged shop window, I freeze. The reflection is a nightmare of antlers, sharp teeth, and beige skin. I curse, staggering backward, my voice a shaky…