nomoreroom | An Alastor RP Catchall

A painful sounding, bone deep creak sounded from the demon as the angel dared to step into his space, the twig-like, reedy antlers visibly thickening as the haze of static began to dimly sound, still seeming distant, like a storm brewing just over the horizon.

"Oh no, don't misunderstand me. The rules of a deal ensure the safety of a transaction." Light, casual, instructional, that tone, and oh so gently condescending, like a mildly annoyed college professor, rather than a very, very offended demon. "Allow me to explain.

I uphold my end of the bargain, and you uphold yours. Your side of the deal of course, is to extend absolution, a second chance. I serve my one hundred years in your quaint little heavenly work release program. That is the agreement, those are the rules of this deal.

Unspoken of course, is the assumption that I won't, say, lose my temper, and find out what angel tastes like a la tartare. That's a part of the deal too. If you're going to start ignoring rules, then why the hell shouldn't I?"

Raphael wondered if that hurt him as much as it sounded. His face looked up at those rather sharp looking antlers that were growing.

He listened very carefully. The angel wasn't looking to push the demon to the point of snapping and breaking the deal. Only to make him admit, even subconsciously, that he care about anything besides himself. Someone, a virtue, a speck of morality of any kind.

The problem was that he couldn't tell him that outright. That never got him the response he was looking for.

He gave a shrug, "Why should anyone? What's so important about absolution? Who needs trust or loyalty or stupid quaint work release program? Why should anyone make any choice that wouldn't be made in the pit?"

Edited 2019-05-15 06:26 (UTC)

An uphill battle to be sure. Alastor wouldn't be so easily probed, and the gears in his head were already cranking at full speed to suss out just why the angel would even bother to ask anything like this.

There was something more at play here than just idle ribbing or a display of power from probation officer to felon. Angels didn't poke the bear for fun after all, this he was positive of.

"Now you know I can't tell you that like this. Can't see the answer under eight and a half decades of mess. Can't ask me that and expect an unbiased answer, what makes you think I wouldn't lie to get you off my tail about it?" A laugh, a bark more like it, static snapping in the outburst.

"Maybe I don't even know for sure myself! Do you want an honest answer or a lie, feathers? You're only bound for bullshit right now.

Why are you asking? Why do you care?"

Edited 2019-05-15 06:34 (UTC)

"I'd settle for a biased honest answer." The angel leaned against his staff. The game was over.

"Maybe I'm curious to the true nature of the damned. Maybe I want to see why you put up walls around yourself if you're such an unrepentant braggart of a sinner. Maybe I need to convince Gabriel and Michael not to find a way to ruin this. Maybe I suspect, somewhere deep in there, you care about something other than your own skin."

He gave a shrug, "Maybe it's just my job to care about finding out those sorts of things, silly as you might find them.'

Oh, so now there were more players involved in this? He'd originally assumed that this deal was between him, Raphael and The Lord but now... it's a bit more complicated.

Now he could begin to think of explanations as to why the talk of reneging on the deal kept popping up. Outside parties with an investment in keeping what Hell had in Hell.

No wonder no other Alastor had managed to complete their sentence.

"Folks don't set up walls for no reason." Time to try a slightly different approach.

"What I got up is there because it has to be, no other way around it."

For Raphael it was merely a test but he was no mind reader. He couldn't confirm or reject what Alastor was thinking.

At the sinner's words he frowned slightly. He moved to sit on a bench. His wings wrapped protectively around his body.

"That sounds like a very lonely existence." He replied honestly.

"Trust me, friend." Ah, his tone sounded slightly, just faintly softer there, though the smile lost none of it's sharpness.

Quite the contrary, there seemed to be a hint of bitterness to the expression.

"It's for the best. Better not to ask questions about it, isn't anything a soul can do about them now."

Perhaps so. Raphael decided it would be best to let the real Alastor hide behind his walls again. So he turned the conversation on himself.

"Did I ever tell you about when we stopped the alastor program?" He asked the sinner switching the subject.

Definitely for the best, he'd certainly not be revealing any deep secrets so soon, especially not to an angel, of all things. Whatever chipper energy had been lost previously though, was back as if it never left as the topic changed.

"Not even the cliffnotes, feathers." The tone had again shifted, losing that bitter edge and indeed, the mocking nature he'd originally used when addressing the angel with that nickname.

Seemed somewhat more amicable now, maybe he just liked the nickname.

"It was somewhere around the mid 1500s. 1550 something or other. I suppose it doesn't matter exactly when." Raphael explained looking at the ground and poking at it with his staff.

"All three of us ran the program at that time: Michael, Gabriel, and me. I won't lie we were getting shit results. Getting any demon to cooperate is hard but getting them to cooperate on earth was even harder. Most of them used their chance on earth to kill someone that they didn't get the chance to during their life. That's another way you're different. We waited only about five years before offering the deal not eighty."

Here Raphael picked up his head and looked at Alastor. "We had one near success and because of him he was also our last before you. Also a serial killer. Had a thirty year sentence. Well, for fifteen years he seemed to be working great. Don't get me wrong he was an arrogant little shit but he kept in the rules."

"One day we trusted him enough to take out a particularly hellish sinner that had been hanging around a market. We'd gotten rather comfortable with Matthias and gave him free reign to take care of things as he needed to while we took care of other business elsewhere.

So we come to collect him right? The entire marketplace was slaughtered. Men, women, children, even the animals. Just to rub salt in the wound the only living creature he spared was the target. He'd let him escape.

We just stood there in total shock. When Gabriel asked why, why would he do this? Throw all fifteen years he worked for away? Matthias laughed and said it was worth it to see the look on our stupid faces. You see before when an alastor failed we just sent then back to Hell. That's where Mathias heard that any angel would offer you a plea bargain if you pulled some sad sob story out of your ass.

He laughed at us and he was still laughing when Michael went over and killed him. The three of us decided to leave Hell to their own devices since we couldn't understand them anyway. If they were so happy down there then we should just leave them. We had enough on our hands tending the faithful, why should we pursue people who hated everything we held dear?"

Raphael took another deep sigh at the end of the story. He was fully expecting Alastor to mock him for being to trusting or make some other smart ass comment. He raised his head heavenward to look at what stars that could be seen through the light pollution of the city.

"Michael and Gabriel don't even know about you. When they find out I made a deal behind their back they're gonna be pissed."

Throughout the story, Alastor's face and body language would remain entirely neutral. A murderer, a psychopath and a monster he might be, and he'd not argue with that assertion, but perhaps predictably, he was an excellent listener. Not a hint of any privately held thoughts appeared on his face, not a glimmer of judgement nor of agreement, hooded hellfire stare just watching Raphael as the angel recounted the last failed attempt at this project.

Very, very interesting.

The story did close on an ominous note too, didn't it? A deal was a deal, and he wasn't about to relinquish his grip on it now, sad story or not.

"... Sounds like you picked a real genius, feathers." Ah, so he wasn't going to needle the angel?

"Clean route out, and he threw it all in the garbage for a cheap laugh? Now I don't think the issue is you, or your brothers.

I can blame you for being a bunch of suckers! Can't blame you for picking out an idiot though. Finding anything better than a dim bulb down there is like looking for a straw in a needle stack, not like you had much to work with, right?"

"Well you don't end up in Hell because you were smart." Raph agreed while at the same time throwing shade at Alastor for the suckers insult.

His head turned to the demon with a lazy smile. Like it or not, Raph supposed he was stuck with Alastor...until he fucked him over that is.

"But you're the one who's gonna be different." Raphael didn't believe it but it wouldn't hurt just to play along, "We still have eight hours until sunrise if you want."

"Everyone's gotta die someday, and the entrance fee to life's most exclusive gated community is a bit high for some of us, slugger." The moral price of it, rather. Alastor was frankly convinced he could no more have lived a moral and decent life than he could have learned how to fly.

Back then.

"Deal's a deal." It was a double edged statement. The obvious, he'd not be turning that deal over.

And the unstated one. A deal was a deal, both sides would keep it.

Raphael figured that was a 'yes' and stood up to stretch his arms and his wings. Ahh, much better.

"So, what did you do for fun when you were alive? You don't strike me as the type to enjoy raves, Little Fawn."

Yeah he caught that nickname asshole.

"I can try to find the closest modern equivalent."

Oh he's not dropping that nickname, none of them. One of them is going to get tired of hearing their stupid nickname, and he's convinced it won't be him.

"A rave? Sounds like a tragic incident at the sanitarium." A beat. "Wouldn't mind watching that." Though he has a feeling that's not what's being suggested here.

"Don't they have dance halls anymore? Jazz clubs?" Music, of course, was what he'd be attracted to, what else?

Big talk from a being who claims a hundred years is a 'long time'. Try a thousand years and then we'll talk.

"Most dance halls were replaced by night clubs in the 1980s. With modern music people stopped swinging and waltzing. Now it's more of a bump and grind." Raphael replied thoughtfully, "Although there are one or two places in most major cities that throw dance 'events' so swing isn't dead yet. Jazz clubs are still plentiful though. I could take you to a place where they do old style big band and jazz."

Feathers now, feathers forever.

He'd been aware that time passed, of course. Plenty of people in Hell from every era, he'd seen the change of styles and language and philosophy.

... Sort of philosophy. Not a lot of deep thinkers in Hell, those tended to hover sadly around in purgatory.

In any case, he still seemed genuinely a bit disgruntled to hear dance halls had fallen out of style in favor of loud, dark clubs, one long tail tapping against a razor fang. He didn't go to a dance hall to get touched, and it'd be hard to keep his end of the deal if he ended up getting grabbed in a night club.

The ears visibly pricked more however as Raphael mentioned that jazz clubs were still a thing, though. "Can't replace the classics." At least jazz stayed. "Eight hours of jazz sounds like a swell time to me! Let's get going, I want to maximize my time out here."

Oh God.

With that the angel lead him down the street and around the corner. There was a club that played up the whole 'vintage' theme.

"ID?" The bouncer asked since this place did serve alcohol. Raph took a quick look around to make sure no one was close and watching before waving a hand in front of the bouncer really quick.

The man seemed stunned and then confused. He stepped to the side for a moment to let them through.

"He'll have a false memory of seeing them." Raphael told Alastor as he motioned the demon to follow him in.

Inside were many white tables they could sit at while a live jazz band played on stage. Keys, trumpets, cellos, and singers. A bar was on the right side of the room.

"Going for a post war feel I see." Raph remarked looking at the decorations as he sat down.

Oh Alastor had absolute faith that the angel would think of something to get them in. The demon perhaps would have simply snagged a fake ID out of the ether, why not? Leave a few calling cards here and there of a man long dead, leave some people guessing. The allure of still getting mentioned in a public venue, eighty five years later, was still, as ever, highly tempting.

Naturally, however, it'd seem Raphael had a more subtle approach to this. He could appreciate it.

But it wasn't as fun.

Entering the club past the befuddled bouncer, he was quickly able to pick out just what was authentic, and what was clearly either a more modern take or... well, just there for aesthetic. To be fair, there wasn't a lot out of place. It was very, very easy for him to slip into the comfortable illusion that no time had passed at all, and that it was indeed still 1933, now that the noise and lights of the modern city were behind them. Long claws were already drumming to the beat against his cane as he immediately placed the song they'd picked for the stage.

He almost didn't even notice Raphael was still there until the angel spoke again.

The demon tilted his head towards him a touch, still watching the band on stage.

"You eat, so do you drink too, feathers? Ever have a mint julep?" He was an angel, Alastor hardly expected Raphael to be capable of getting drunk of all things.

But you didn't drink alone, it was a social thing.

Well the Lord was fond of a well fermented 'blood of grapes' as the bible put it so alcohol wasn't unheard of. Still drinking seemed to be something more popular among the blessed than the angels.

"No, I've not had a mint julep. I have heard of it though. Supposed to be a very Southern drink." He made a stand to go get the drinks, "I'm guesing Hell makes a crappy julep as well?"

The band began to play "Blow, Gabriel, Blow". The song made him smile and think of his brother as he stood.

"You know, it's funny. Normally Gabe would've been your patron saint since you were a radio host." He told Alastor as he walked with him, "Did you like being on the radio?"

"The only thing Hell makes well are demons out of men." So yes, their juleps suck. Raphael would find his steps haunted, Alastor keen on not wandering far from him. Though the reason was unclear, perhaps it was for the best.

Considering the story the angel had just told him before, perhaps it was an effort to demonstrate that he had no intention of sneaking away and slaughtering innocents for giggles.

"Not a lot of Catholic churches, down in Louisiana. The Baptist minister I knew would be spitting tacks if he knew saints were real." But hey, he was asked a question about himself, and he was all too willing to answer it.

"Of course I did! One of the most popular shows on the air at the time, who wouldn't love all of that? Why, I remember interviewing musicians, artists, politicians, I attended football and baseball games free of charge, did the running commentary for the folks who couldn't see it in person! Even had a few good radio dramas I acted in!

I must admit though, friend, my favorite part of the night was the news." Which... sounded kind of dull, considering the personality of the jagged, nightmarish red specter. News?

Really, Alastor?

That was fine for the angel. It assured him that Alastor wasn't doing anything that he shouldn't be. Plus who else would the serial killer talk to without hiding what he truly was?

Raphael raised an eyebrow in amusement at the mention of the minister. Poor humans did tend to get bogged down in the details.

"Then you would like Gabriel. He can broadcast all over the different realms when he needs to or just wants to. He's quite chatty." He answered before getting the bartender's attention, "Uh, two mint juleps please."

As for his favorite part being the news that didn't surprise him. Some killers got their kicks sending letters to the newspapers. Others from offering to "help" the police investigation. The angel was pretty sure Alastor probably enjoyed reporting his latest spree killing under the guise of an innocent news reporter.

"Especially the news about the Southren Hunter?" He asked Alastor once the bartender had left them their drinks and moved on to other patrons.

An Alastor RP Catchall

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