What a day, that was yesterday. Alastor was still tired from all the Tyrannids fighting in the labyrinth. It was a miracle he could get any sleep with how loud the screams can be. Note to self, start sleeping outside the hotel grounds. He looked at his hair, jumbled and static. And a second wave of disruption to his rest. Great, his newer tenants were being a pill in his toshe. He channeled the cane to soothe his body…and it followed his command. How annoying his victims seem to disturb him every chance they get. Yet, Alastor does not see this as a heavy burden of sins. Rather they were his audience eternally present in his performances. If only they were quieter when he was asleep. An eldritch incantation brings the fire of the fatalities turns to a wisp in the air. How pathetic they were in his mind, only striking at their opponent in a way they cannot defend themself from, and scurrying away at the presence of any resistance. His victims have learned nothing even in a proper cage for these sinners. And at this time and period, he had no interest with those that refuse to learn. His fashion has been tainted with hours of rest, and this was more important to remain an It Boy.
Now was the time to get it on. With a little flick of his hand, the hair was tamed into a more manageable headpiece. His signature haircut, a fine bob with a good tuff sticking out like what was popular in the streets of New Orleans. With a dash of magic, the radio demon magically gave himself the appearance of charcoal eyeliner and the scent of a Guerlain and Coty Après l'Ondée. A dash of crimson red mascere and his fashion revival was complete. In the mirror, Alastor tucked in his bow, witnessing his wicked smile in full effect in his reflection. The smile of a wicked man. As his shadow begins to iron out the creases on his suit, he ponders his deal. The one that binds him to smile for the rest of his life. The smile of a conniving monster, that only a mother could love.

Mother…what would Mother think of her precious boy? Was he Alastor the killer, with a body count that eclipsed the mafia bastards that extorted them? Alastor the cannibal, with the evidence for many more murders dilloved in stomach acid a gasser ago? Or Alastor the overlord, who overthrew several men who threatened his rule and now owns the souls of many others? No, of course not. That's pure applesauce. This is Ma he's talking about. It'd be Alastor the hotel host, helping advertise and maintain one of the most innovative projects he'd seen in many a decade. Alastor the friend, who tends to the needs of Charlie and the other staff like a new family. And Alastor the adaptive, who had to help the hotel survive an angelic invasion from destroying their dreams, but also an extraterrestrial force of dinosaurs dumping into hell like monkeys in a , as Charlie calls them. That's the special boy Mama raised with a juicy smile and a paddle to the tush or two. "Only those that deserve it.I'll make you proud, Mom." He left the miniature bathroom in his radio tower with those words, willing to do whatever is necessary to turn this underworld into the precious home he was comfortable with. With his own twist, of course.

With his setup complete, Alastor teleports into the main hall room of the hotel, witnessing a batch of Tyranids going through their furniture with Nfty. His best guess was that she was educating them how to act in an environment where food was around them and they weren't allowed to eat them. He understands the lesson, but questions if Nifty is the best tutor for these creatures. Well, the results should be entertaining, and so he sat on a Delores leather chair, slightly startled as a quasi limbed variant of these beasts lifted his seat up to sweep the area. A rather interesting feeling, like a roller coaster. At least the view was nice.

"Alright, so the first thing to keep in mind with these bugs is the sheer resilience these bastards have. If you allow even a single one to live, eventually it will replace what they lost. So the end goal in all of this is-" The Tyranid didn't give Nifty a chance to finish her directions before lifting up furniture with its two spiky protrusions, he thinks they're called pincers. As soon as a swarm of bugs scattered from one of their hiding places were exposed, the Hormagaunt gave them little room to leave, as its huge maw sunk into the couch, destroying a huge gathering of the pests and a very lovely couch. Nifty's eye widens as she comes to understand just what has been under her nose for a while. But her angelic blades soon were coated in the blood of these insects.

Though her time to process this was small. For the tyranids were already working fast on the critters that lived in the walls and floorboards. However they communicated, it was silent and it allowed information to flow seamlessly through mere collective thoughts across thousands of minds, permitting their more agile forces to strike where Nifty had never been able to access. All those mounds of bugs that weren't native to the pride ring to his knowledge, all of them appearing underneath the hotel grounds even after its reconstruction. Soon, the entire floor plan was torn out and repaired after a bloody cleansing. To think it would be more bug infested after their minds hyped up the number of pests that live under their home. Ah well, an endless source of entertainment for the dinosaurs until they eventually pull the buggers from their roots. A barrage of applause comes from the radio demon, lowering down as the Tyranid is finished with this section. Nifty bows before the Roach King before continuing the assault. Alastor leaves the area, aware that Nifty has the situation under control.

As the Ruler of the Airwaves traversed further into the hotel, he noticed the small Tyranids climbing on the walls and ceiling, carrying out much needed maintenance throughout overlooked areas due to a low quantity of staff. Dusting of more However, a different distraction grabs the eyes of the radio host. A small Ripper as these non-natives call their children, was chasing the pig that porn star seems to like so much. Enough to get mad when the hotel residents tried to show him the mistake of pranking them so much. The first time he saw that slut with a face other than smug and suggesting. Might as well tease him in a way that doesn't get him excited, if such a thing is possible.

"Ah, I see the pig is playing with its family. What's on the vineyard today, you pale whore?" Angel groans as Alastor states to him, dating to try something in response. "If you gots to know mista, I don't gots a call in yet. The bug infestation forced Val to work with the models he had on set that day. Now I'm just waiting for that vacay to be pulled. Emergency been done for hours, and I ain't even got a text. Honestly, dat's a more spooky idea." Angel then turns his attention to Fat Nuggets playing some chasing game with a ripper, and from the looks of it, he was winning. The pig tackles the alien, causing them to wrestle the rug into a creased mess. "Aww, look at them go! They look so cute!" Then, as Custer appeared to try and intimate the pig, he simply booped his friend on the nose. Angel Dust had a face Alastor was getting used to, sheer joy. The chase resumed until the Tyranid ran into Alastor, grabbing his curiosity. It reminded him…of a less lovable part of his past. But in an attempt to move past it, he decided to deal with it in a healthy way.

"Little one, I think I'll call you Custer." The Ripper was statistically pleased with the name, flailing around in a strange paddle like motion. Given his history with animals with strange maws, Alastor was quite hesitant to allow it to get friendly with the hand picking it up. But in its eyes were pupils that shine brighter than any diamond. With sinners, he would squeeze out the jelly and glaze it on his brunch toast. But on the Ripper, he couldn't see it as anything but innocence. He petted the creature's head, feeling his purring on his hand quite soothing. Alastor then cradles the dinosaur like a baby and scratches his belly, causing it to giggle. The sweetest thing he saw, next to Charlie's constant aura.

Seeing no reason not to treat this beast further, he teleports it to his room and opens his fridge, and rips two of the hind legs off for the morning meal. A little modern to his tastes, but Alastor was beginning to warm up to the idea that he didn't have to go to the butcher's shop every other day to get some fresh deer. If only his meal would warm up at such speeds. But the "Hold on, I'll cook it up to give you a proper meal." With the tilt of its head, he could tell this was something it did not understand. A perfect opportunity to educate it. He grabbed a jar of Cloves and gave a healthy sprinkle on the legs. With his voodoo magic, Alastor forced one of his spirits to . Alastor thought the sound of deer meat crackling like firewood was an enriching experience, and paired with the burning smell rushing through his nose? Ahhhhhh, Nifty can cook but she could never cook Wapiti this good.

Alastor placed the Rascal's leg on the floor, and sat on his lovely tower chair to devour his breakfast. It was…PERFECT! The absolute best blend of crispy skin with juicy meat inside. The way his venison venustly fills his mouth with flavor, Oh! How enchanting. He turned his head to look at the beast, thinking it would treat this meal like a normal scrap of flesh. No, it was savoring it as well! The breaks in between each vicious bite to enjoy the pure explosion of sensations running around was…beyond colorful words. The experience was slightly interrupted by the phone going off on his tower. It was his phone being called! A rather unusual encounter for the Radio Demon, but rather tame to yesterday's antics. He raises the phone to his head, leaving the elk leg dangling on his hand bearing the floor, inadvertently grabbing the attention of Custer, whom just finished his own leg.

"Hazbin Hotel hotline, this is the Radio Demon himself. How can-?" "Get over here, Alastor." It was Carmilla's voice. A surprise to be sure, especially with how intense he was. "My my, what an interesting way to ask for my assistance. Now, would you like to try-?" "I'M NOT IN THE MOOD, YOU WEDI-GAUDY BASTARD! I'M GIVING A CHANCE TO HOLD POWER OVER AN OVERLORD, AND YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT MY MANNERS!" Alastor wanted to rip into the bitch. He wanted to tell her how ugly the hair horns were terrible to doors and roofs everywhere. How those would be used for gripping in acts of lust, especially with that salacious attire. But given the opportunity before him, he holds his tongue.

"Power over an overlord?" "I'll explain the situation later, once you get here. Time is everything. Carmilla out." She hung up…on him. Man, this invasion must be mighty dangerous if Carmilla is too afraid to deal with it. But to abandon Charlie while she was with those Tyranids. But it arrived to him, he could just talk to Custer, and the rest would get the message. He whistled for the gremlin, who was devouring the rest of his leg, like it was Adam and Eve on a Raft. At this time, Alastor had no interest in punishing the beast for it's theft of his breakfast. He grabbed a leash from Angel's collection, making sure it was washed to save him from any STDs he could get.

As his shadow scrubs any scent of skank from the leather strap, Alastor lowered himself to Custer's level, ensuring he had the animal's attention. "Can you send your pack a message?" Custer nodded his head up and down like a bobble head, amusing Alastor greatly. "Charlie, I'm headed to Carmilla's emergency meeting. Let your friends know that she may have an interest in them." It saluted with its tiny raptor arms. A more gentle soul would be making cat mom faces at the sight of this. But Alastor nearly gave a closed eyed smile. Best not to show so much excitement. With the leash finally smelling partially clean, he placed a collar on Custer's necker to clip the leash onto, conjuring a dog tag with his name on it and the Hazbin Hotel's address. Custer gave him a confused look, wondering why this was necessary. "Your people have quite a show yesterday. It's best we don't give them an encore so soon."

As the path through to Carmilla's was trekked, Alastor was exposed to the sight of several construction crews repairing the damages inflicted by their invaders. Now to imagine if Charlie didn't pull some Snow White card with the beasts. Would there even be a Hell anymore? Once again, his philosophy quandaries were disturbed by the world's events. Legions of sinners flew face first into Pride City, a rain of absolute carnage. While few repopped as a result of their reemergence, the main struggle for Alastor was the absolute shower he was enduring. Of course, this was to his benefit.

With his shadow pulling out an umbrella, he called upon his prisoners again to act in his interest. A miniature forcefield compared to the one defending the hotel a few days prior, but enough for its purpose. The sinners that saw the Tyranid walking about were at first horrified with what they witnessed, the enemy still about. Then they saw a leash on the creature, and the one who's holding it. They kept to themselves with whispers abundant. Alastor knew that with Charlie mainly keeping the secret to herself, nothing will stop rumors of Alastor himself stopping the invasion of the dinosaurs, taking them so he can take them out on a walk! Oh, the excitement of a plan coming together. Now, he had to ponder just how to deal with this Carmilla fellow, and what troubles are at her door.