alastor · vox · hazbin hotel · rivals to lovers · obsession · radio demon · tv demon · dark fantasy · psychological warfare · mature themes
The scene unfolds within a dim, sterile holding cell. Alastor stirs awake, a grimace tightening his features as the memory of Adam’s blow echoes dully in his ribs. His clothes are torn, his wrists bound tightly behind him, and his staff is conspicuously absent. For the first time in an age, he is powerless. A low, mechanical hum fractures the heavy silence. Vox stands there, the screen of his head flickering with pale light, his eyes cold and hypnotic. “Alastor,” Vox says, his voice warped by static. Alastor lets a smirk twist his lips, masking the pain with practiced amusement. “Ah, Vox,” he drawls, the tone mocking yet impeccably smooth. “A chair? How quaint. You took my staff, but I fear you’ve missed the point entirely.”