Alastor looked on with some amusement, and no small amount of inner panic given that the angels were coming directly for the hotel, the very place that he could not run from given the chains that were on his soul. To be sure, he was more real than most would know, but angelic weapons could prove to be something deadly enough to make it stick. Something that required him to plan carefully, to allow the others to take most of the attack, as he picked them off, as he made sure that the poor little princess was left broken and alone. Then he might actually be able to use the contract he had tricked her into!
Ah, there was the light, the approaching storm of the self-righteous and holy, come to make sure that none who have fallen can rise into their golden halls. Which of course as dawn came on wings of death, is when he noticed something. The little snake that thought he could be an overlord was being serious. A part of him thought he knew what was coming next, as the world began to slow, flames racing in the sky, vast metal gears appearing, turning and grinding as arms raised.
Metal face a serious mask naked of a smile, there was no play, no joke or desire to show off, even as Hell itself seemed to be shifting, massive unseen forge hammers sending thunder ringing, all of Pride echoing like a grand bell. Smoke and flame erupted from the ground, even as there was a vast ghostly air ship. No, not one, as dreams of industrialized warfare erupted into reality, trenches forming and carving canyons, forests of barbed wire as machine gun nests sprouted, anti-air guns starting to roar. All of it manned by a legion of eggs, a wave of firepower and steel asserting itself.
The radio demon paused, as he looked at just what the snake was capable of. His smile never slipped, even as his hand gripped around the body of his staff. Angels were scrambling, bodies shredded even as Sir Pretentious was no longer trying to show off. He was not trying to prove a point, not trying to impress anyone. No, he was the image of a British lord aboard a ship, observing the battlefield, the egg boiz no longer bumbling and laughing minions, but a lockstep army working as one, responding more to the thought and will of someone that he had written off as a joke.
"Miss Charlie. Permission to begin the artillery bombardment." The voice was as cold as iron, as cold as a snakes blood, and yet... Alastor could not tell WHY the fool was asking to unleash this hidden might, as the angels were screaming, air craft opening fire and dog fighting them in the skies of Hell itself, the air ships acting as carriers. Adam was unleashing blasts of light, trying to ward off the oncoming storm. And looking on all of this with disgustingly wide eyes, the naive princess spoke.
"Why are you asking?" Her tone was soft, unsure even as her little pet gripped the spear in her hand, one eye narrowing, the serpent inclining his head.
"Are you not my superior officer?" It was not villain at the helm of the ship at the moment, as he could feel the strings of narrative singing, but a lord of a world power, a remnant of an age of gallantry that sought to embrace the new while retaining parts of the old. A pistol and a blade, not of a solider, but of an officer, a gentleman, awaiting the order.
And with an order, volcanos belched and sky and earth were as one, as a mustache twirling villain shaved.