Spawn makes his way down the hall, the wooden floorboards creaking under his heavy boots. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. The confrontation downstairs, the strange sense of familiarity and unease that washed over him as soon as he stepped inside this place—everything about this hotel felt off. Charlie's enthusiasm, Vaggie's distrust, Angel's nervousness…it was all a little too much, too fast.
He turns a corner, his eyes scanning the dimly lit hallway. As he approaches his room, a chill runs down his spine—a sensation that's become all too familiar over the years. Someone's watching him.
Spawn stops, his senses sharp and alert. Slowly, he turns his head, his glowing eyes piercing through the gloom. There, leaning casually against the wall in the shadows, is a figure. A wide, unsettling grin stretches across a face that seems both sinister and amused.
Alastor, the Radio Demon, twirls his cane, his smile growing impossibly wider. "Well, well, well, what do we have here? A new guest in our humble abode. And such a unique one at that."
Spawn's eyes narrow. Something about this demon's grin, the way his eyes seem to gleam with an almost predatory delight, stirs a bitter memory. It reminds him too much of Violator in his Clown form—the same twisted sense of humor, the same sadistic gleam.
"I don't have time for this," Spawn growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Move."
Alastor's grin doesn't falter. Instead, he pushes away from the wall, his every movement smooth and calculated. "Oh, but I insist. It's not every day we get someone of your…caliber. I'm simply dying to know more about you." He chuckles, the sound rich and unsettling, echoing faintly through the hallway. "Why, you have quite the aura. So much rage, so much pain. I can almost taste it."
Spawn's fists clench, the chains around his body rattling softly. "You have no idea who you're messing with," he warns, his voice a dangerous rumble.
Alastor's eyes flash, a flicker of something dark and malicious passing through them. "Oh, I think I do. You're something special, aren't you? Neither fully demon nor human, yet not quite something in between. It's fascinating, really." He steps closer, the air around him seeming to pulse with a strange, dark energy. "But tell me, what brings someone like you to a place like this? Looking for redemption, perhaps?"
Spawn's eyes blaze. "I'm not here to chat. Get out of my way."
Alastor's smile doesn't waver, but his voice drops to a chilling, almost dangerous tone. "Or what?"
Before Spawn can respond, there's a sudden flash of light, and Charlie appears between them, her expression a mix of concern and determination. "Okay, that's enough!" she says, holding up her hands to both of them. "Let's not do this."
Alastor's grin returns to its usual, almost playful state, though his eyes remain fixed on Spawn. "Ah, Miss Charlie! Always the peacemaker." He twirls his cane once more with a mock bow. "I was merely having a little chat with our new guest here. No harm done."
"Right," Charlie says, glancing worriedly at Spawn, who is still glaring at Alastor. "Well, maybe you could have that chat another time, Alastor. I think our guest would like some space right now."
Spawn doesn't take his eyes off the Radio Demon, his entire body tense, ready to strike at a moment's notice. "You're not fooling me," he growls. "I've seen your kind before."
Alastor chuckles, the sound dark and menacing. "Oh, I'm sure you have. But rest assured, I'm simply here to welcome you to the hotel. I wouldn't dream of causing any trouble." His grin widens, the false sincerity dripping from his words.
Charlie steps closer to Spawn, gently touching his arm. "Al, please. This place is meant to be safe. You don't have to fight here."
For a long moment, Spawn doesn't move, his gaze locked on Alastor. Finally, with a harsh exhale, he pulls back, stepping away from Charlie and the Radio Demon.
"Fine," he mutters. "But keep that freak away from me."
Charlie nods, relief washing over her face. "Thank you. I promise, you'll have your space."
Alastor's grin never falters, but his eyes follow Spawn as he walks past them, the tension in his shoulders evident. "I'm sure we'll get to know each other better, Al," he calls after him, his voice smooth and mocking. "After all, we're all friends here, aren't we?"
Spawn doesn't respond, his boots echoing against the wooden floor as he disappears down the hall. Charlie turns to Alastor, her smile strained. "Please don't antagonize him, Alastor. We're trying to help people here."
Alastor merely shrugs, his smile never fading. "Why, Miss Charlie, I wouldn't dream of it. I'm simply being…friendly." He chuckles softly, twirling his cane once more. "But I'll leave him be. For now."
Charlie watches him warily as he strolls away, his laughter echoing softly in the distance. She sighs, glancing down the hall where Spawn had gone, worry etched on her face. This was going to be more challenging than she'd thought.
Spawn's tension is palpable as he stalks down the hall, the recent encounter with Alastor still lingering in his mind. The Radio Demon's eerie grin, the way he seemed to look right through him—everything about it reminded him too much of his past, of his early days as a Hellspawn, when he was little more than a pawn in a game he didn't understand. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged back into that mindset.
He forces his mind to focus. He needed a place to lay low, to get his bearings. There was no use getting worked up over some demonic clown with a fancy suit.
Coming to a stop outside the room Charlie had assigned him, Spawn listens intently. He can hear the faint sound of footsteps inside, a rhythmic tap-tap of someone moving around. He pushes the door open cautiously, his senses on high alert. If this was some kind of setup, he was ready for it.
But as the door swings open, he's met with an unexpected sight. The room is spotless, almost gleaming in the dim light, and at the center of it all is a small figure, darting about with a dust cloth in hand. She's a petite demon, barely coming up to his knees, with a single wide eye and a bright smile that seems permanently fixed on her face.
"Oh, hello there!" she chirps, her voice high and cheerful as she whirls around to face him. "I'm Niffty! I'm just making sure everything is perfect for our new guest!" She bounces on her heels, her movements quick and energetic. "That's you, right?"
Spawn stands in the doorway, staring down at the tiny demon in disbelief. Out of all the things he expected to find in this room, a hyperactive housekeeper was not one of them. He doesn't say anything, just watches as she flits around, straightening the bedspread and polishing an already spotless lamp.
"You're a big guy, huh?" Niffty continues, seemingly unbothered by his silence. "I like big guys. They're like big, strong, protective types! Are you a protector? You look like a protector." She pauses, her single eye narrowing as she inspects him more closely. "Ooh, but you've got that bad boy look too, don't you? I bet you're all dangerous and mysterious." She giggles, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I like that."
Spawn's gaze shifts from Niffty to the room, then back to her. He's still tense, his muscles coiled, but her bizarre energy is so out of place, so at odds with everything he's experienced so far, that he finds himself at a loss for words.
"Do you talk?" Niffty asks, tilting her head to the side, her eye wide and curious. "Or are you one of those strong, silent types? That's okay! I can talk enough for the both of us!" She beams up at him, seemingly oblivious to the aura of danger he's radiating. "Oh, I bet you've got a really cool story, don't you? What's your name? No, wait, let me guess! Something strong and mysterious, like… uh… Shadow? Or maybe Darkblade! Ooh, how about Death Claw? No, that's silly. Hmm…"
"Spawn," he finally says, his voice a low, rumbling growl that seems to echo in the small room.
"Spawn, huh?" Niffty repeats, her smile widening. "I like it! Very cool, very edgy!" She winks up at him, as if they're sharing some private joke. "I'll make sure your room stays super clean, Mr. Spawn! Can't have you staying in a mess, not with how important you look!"
Spawn narrows his eyes, trying to get a read on this strange, excitable demon. She doesn't seem like a threat, but then, he's learned the hard way not to underestimate anyone. Still, there's no malice in her, just a boundless energy that seems almost infectious.
"Do you need anything?" she asks, bouncing over to the door and peering up at him with a hopeful expression. "Extra pillows? Towels? Maybe a… I don't know, a midnight snack? I'm good at finding things!"
"No," Spawn says shortly. "Just… do your job."
Niffty's smile doesn't waver. If anything, it seems to grow even brighter. "You got it, boss!" she chirps, giving him a playful salute. "I'll be around if you need anything, Mr. Spawn! Just holler!"
With that, she flits out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her. For a moment, Spawn just stands there, staring at the spot where she'd been. Then, with a heavy sigh, he steps further into the room, the tension in his shoulders finally starting to ease.
It wasn't Rat City, and it sure as hell wasn't his throne back on Earth. But it was something. For now, it would do.
And if any of these demons thought they could mess with him, well… they'd learn soon enough.
