Chapter Text
“I’m gonna wipe that shit eating grin off your face, cuz radio is fuckin’ dead!” Alastor could only sneer at the angel in front of him, anger rising as he lifted the glimmering axe above his head. A sloppy and obvious giveaway of this divine fool’s next move that had Alastor holding back a small chuckle.
What wasn’t obvious however was the sudden shift in the weapon that narrowly caught the demon off guard, seeing the change just time to swing his microphone up to block the oncoming attack. A blast of brilliant light flashed in Alastor’s face, causing a moment of discomfort to wash over him as he stood his ground. However as the light faded, the uncomfortable feeling remained.
“What just happened?” Alarms began to go off in Alastor’s head as he blinked harshly, looking back out towards the fight. A soft fizzling of static dragged the radio demon’s eyes down to the now mangled microphone in his hands, the power quickly fading from it with a soft hum. Power that also faded from himself.
“Fuck.”
Alastor could barely register the dilemma he had found himself in when immense pressure struck his chest, sending him tumbling across the rooftop. His shoulders connected with the bricks, knocking what little air he had in his lungs out with an undignified groan. There was a pause before Alastor was able to suck in a deep enough breath, gathering what strength he could find to pull himself up to hands and knees.
No sooner had he managed to balance himself had the pain begun to surge through his body. Alastor’s chest burned, a twisting hot swelter that forced him to double over as much as he could in his current position. It wasn’t a proud display, but there was little else Alastor could manage to do outside of trying to refocus his attention to the footsteps approaching him.
He had to get up. Be ready to fight back.
Forcing himself upwards as best he could, the wounded demon’s focus faltered as instincts took over. Ears twisting to locate the threat, eyes flashing dark and fearful as Alastor’s body trembled for just a moment.
No. He wouldn’t allow this. Alastor had to remain in control.
Reaching to gather the broken remains of his microphone, Alastor pushed himself to a seated position, heels digging against the cement as he tried to put enough space between himself and the dangerous angel that stood over him. Ears tilted backwards as he sucked in a painful breath, cursing himself silently.
“Have to disagree with you there…” The words were laced with poison. Lungs beginning to burn as the radio demon’s shadow began to twist and swirl behind him, alerting the deer to the change in its energy as it formed a devilish grin. It was easy to recognize the shadow that he had come to call ‘the keeper’ as its clawed hands reached outwards, grasping onto Alastor with purpose.
“Radio’s not dead…” The darkness was quick to engulf the radio demon, a cold but welcome feeling washing over every inch of him as he was pulled away into the bleak darkness. “But it IS ending this broadcast!”
It was a disgraceful display, fleeing like a cowering animal from a hungry predator. Alastor knew it in his mind, but the shadow that held him tight overpowered his thoughts. It was almost painful, like claws ripping into his flesh as he struggled to keep up.
‘No. Run away. Fight later. Do not die here.’
The keeper kept repeating its words in a chant as it firmly held the wounded demon within its grasp. Alastor could feel the hold he had over his shadow waning with the loss of his microphone, an invaluable tool to amplify and control his powers that now sat split in two in his clenched hands. There was no way to fully control it in his current state, having to simply resign himself with a clenched jaw to wait until the shadow deemed it safe enough to release him.
He only hoped it would be soon, all too aware of the searing pain only getting worse in his chest.
Perhaps he could afford just a moment to close his eyes. Seconds dragging on for minutes only to feel further like hours.
Alastor wasn’t sure how long it had actually been, only becoming aware of his surroundings once more when the shadow holding him captive finally loosened its hold. The cool air around him lifted away, leaving a chill on his skin as he slowly opened his eyes to take in the wreckage he had been released into.
Piles of rubble, broken bricks and steel like mountains around the radio demon as he glanced about. He recognized some of the pieces, seeing parts of once familiar walls and a few dust covered patches of floor that escaped the debris that littered everywhere else.
It was the hotel. Or at least what seemed to be left of it. No doubt it was the doing of the fight against the angels, though Alastor was uncertain if it had been Adam to deal the devastating blow to his recent home or perhaps someone else. Not that it particularly mattered to him, instead focusing his mind on where he had to go.
Lifting himself up, Alastor couldn’t contain a wince at the aches that shot across his body, reaching up to his head as the pounding became more evident. He just had to make it a little further, then he could rest. Step after agonizing step, the radio demon pulled himself forward, blood steadily dribbling in a messy trail behind him. That could be a problem if the angels were still patrolling, though there was nothing Alastor could do about it at the moment.
“I just need to focus…” The words were shaky, uneven as the ground the demon walked on as he tried to encourage himself further. Footfalls were unbalanced, causing Alastor to catch himself a few times as he pressed further towards the small opening ahead. The distant buzzing of broken fluorescent lights stood out to well-trained ears, flicking in irritation when the demon stumbled once more.
Looking down to what had tripped him up, Alastor was displeased to see a portion of the radio tower’s antenna crushed under rubble, a long piece of the metal twisting out like a wicked hand. Eyes followed the smashed parts out and upwards to see what remained of the tower teetering precariously, the majority of the ladder just as mangled.
Normally, Alastor would have been able to simply use his shadows to make his way into the tower with ease, not even batting an eye. However the burning in his chest returned again with intensity and reminded him that perhaps it was not wise to play foolish games with his abilities just yet. With an irritable grumble, the radio demon began to climb.
The remains of the ladder were uneven, causing him to slip and catch himself on a sharp portion of metal. It tore into the flesh of his right leg with a sickening sound, like fangs tearing at a hunk of meat. No doubt another problem to add to Alastor’s rapidly growing collection, but there was no time to dwell on it.
Thankful at being able to make it to the hatch with no further delays, Alastor shoved the door with all of his might. It creaked and groaned for a few moments before finally giving way, allowing the demon to scramble upwards and onto the cold floor. He lay there for what felt like hours, though it was mere minutes, breathing heavily as he tried to gather himself.
Blood had begun to pool around him, quickly bringing Alastor back to the reality that he was in a terrible predicament. He had never really thought to keep any sort of medical supplies in the tower itself as he was the only one who usually was there. What could he have laying around that might be of use?
Was there even anything helpful? When was the last time he had really looked about at what miscellaneous things had been shoved into the drawers and forgotten? If he couldn’t stop the bleeding…
“This is terrible…” Alastor’s voice was as weak as his body felt, hands barely able to raise to cover his face in disappointment. Surely if he didn’t do something, anything, he would bleed out. A slow and painful death. Sad and pathetic.
As the radio demon grew angrier at his predicament, the shadows below him swirled. The keeper, who had dragged him away prior could be heard chattering, seeming to bicker with another that Alastor knew all too well.
The puppeteer.
A dangerous and powerful shadow that Alastor was proud to control, allowing him to wield great strength and use the dark tendrils to do his bidding. But that power wasn’t something so easily controlled, and without his microphone, it left the deer demon in a very dangerous spot. After all, it wasn’t just Alastor who could be considered opportunistic.
“Shush the both of you. I won’t be needing you right now so leave me be.”
The shadows grew restless, seeming now to fight with each other at what would be done. It felt loud against Alastor’s back with washes of hot and cold as the two forces fought. He wanted to scream, yell and tell them both to simply be quiet when there was a soft touch to his hand.
As quick as the two shadows had started, they silenced. In place of what had been constant noise was now a soft crackle of static, much like the white noise that Alastor himself emitted. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know exactly who was there with him, the soft clicking of hooves as they moved to stand beside him.
With a sigh, Alastor lowered his hands back to his sides. “I had a feeling you would show up.” His eyes drifted over to meet the small shadowy figure’s gaze. Its gentle stare eased Alastor slightly, ears flicking in unison with his own. “I don’t suppose you could find something to stop the bleeding little fawn?”