nomoreroom | An Alastor RP Catchall

Well he's good at it there's no denying that.

Christ give him patience. The demon wanted a better carrot other than getting out of this smelly armpit that Lucifer called a relm? This disgusting backwater imbecile populace? Raphael gave him a look he only reserved for those who were clearly fucking with him and those who were just plain dumb. Jury's still out which one this was.

"You're going to have to be discriminate. You'll have one mission and one mission only and that's to dispatch those who condemn themselves to die. How you do it we don't particularly care but that you remain on target is what's most important to us."

Raphael gave another sigh. He couldn't force Alastor to do anything and that was the frusterating part. Even in a state of total damnation the demon, by virtue of being born human, still had the divine right of free will. The most an angel could do was snap his fingers and instantly transport him back to Hell due to his state of damnation.

But that didn't mean everything was hopeless. Raphael still had one more trick up his sleeve before he had to turn back to Charlie in failure.

"You can't kill." He told Alastor plainly, "Sure you can maim, cruelly torture, take over, and what not but demons can't kill other demons without angel steel and from my understanding of your market down here there's very little of it and high demand."

The angel put the files back in his satchel and stood, "But fine. Stay here in this fetid stink pool that you call a home. One serial killer is no different from another and I don't doubt I'll get plenty of takers. I'll find another avenging spirit and tell Charlie that you weren't interested. And you'll stay here, rotting shoulder to shoulder with the worst of humanity, until Judgement Day and trumpets sound provided you survive to that point. Have a nice afterlife."

"Looks like I struck a nerve there, friend." He didn't bat an eye, didn't even budge.

"See, here's the thing. Sure, sure I could go up and murder every terrible, murderous, baby eating rapist who ever shook his fist at his wife. I could go up and down and up and down and up and down forever and ever until the sun burns out and those damn trumpets sound.

I could do that. But what's the guarantee that it'll end any different for me either way, hm?

So far, you've pitched a great job, my friend, a fantastic job, but I haven't actually heard you guarantee me freedom. No second chances, no reincarnation if I toe the line and rip out the throats of only the worst of the worst.

I need to hear you tell me, and tell it to me plainly, friend, tell it to me like I'm five, and I know you can do that.

Tell me, to my face, without mincing words, that I'll eventually earn an out. Promise me that I won't just be cutting assholes and grinding up the dregs of society into mincemeat for the heavenly equivalent of a participation trophy.

All I need to hear, is you promising me, that one day, if I play by all your rules, I won't be going back to Hell, or erased from existence."

Raphael actually blinked at that. He blinked once more and then sat down. Not because the angel was stupid or the request was stupid but because from the general spin of demonic and earthly media nobody actually wanted to leave Hell.

According to popular, and rather wrong, knowledge Hell was where the party was. Hell had all the interesting creative people. Heaven was a lame place where the blessed supposedly spent their time making macaroni art of how alcoholism destroys families or whatever the fuck humans thought Heaven was like. Hey, they got South Park up there just like everywhere else.

"I'm sorry we're going to have to retread for a minute just in case I misunderstood you. You actually want to leave Hell for Heaven?"

"I want to leave Hell. Don't get me wrong, friend. I don't want to have a chit-chat with old Saint Pete like this."

He wasn't about to lie about that, after having to deal with the Exterminator's more than his fair share of times, he wasn't in any hurry to go see where they all came from.

"Now I don't mean setting me loose on an ignorant, unprepared population either! I want a clean slate, I hear that happens from time to time. I know how this story ends, friend, I went to church once, I picked up a bible, I read it cover to cover.

If Judgement Day rolls around and I'm still down here, well that's it for me, no pardons after that.

Now I don't think I need to explain to you why the idea of being endlessly trapped in a maximum security prison rubs me the wrong way.

I do what you want, I listen to what you say, I kill who you want dead, and you promise me a second chance. We both know I'm too far gone, we both know I can't change.

Not like this.

But with a fresh start...."

Supposedly with God all things were possible and this was one Hell of thing, no pun intended. But it was also the closest thing Alastor would probably ever get to redemption and that was what Charlie was after. At least the radio demon didn't insult his intelligence by assuming that Raphael didn't have the idea of Alastor just going serial killer all over again in his mind.

This was going to take some higher authority. It wasn't impossibe but it wasn't going to happen without the right price. Raphael reached into his satchel to pull out one of the deer demon's files. When year was Alastor's first kill?

And he sat back again, chin back into his hand, grin eternally in place. Odd, how the expression could still be considered unreadable, his gaze locked on the file.

He'd been in his early thirties when he'd passed, the date of his first murder fourteen years prior.

1919, he'd certainly gotten started young, hadn't he?

Very. Okay let's pitch this to He who is in the highest.

Raphael slipped the file back into his satchel again and sat down to focus. His eyes closed and his normally white fur began to glow with blue signals in many different but ancient languages: Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Aramaic. The ram horns on his head glowed white as he recieved his answer.

His eyes opened up in pure blue light.

"You've spilled much blood, caused much suffering. A hundred years you've torn your way through two planes of existence." Raphael intoned, "Are you willing to trade a hundred years of service for a clean slate?"

That expression still unreadable, he still shifted forward, just a bit, examining the angel from where he sat as light coursed through the entity.

No comment, no words for once, the angel would be allowed to work in peace, until the question was posed.

A hundred years was a long time. Long for a once mortal, anyway, the eighty plus years he'd spent wreaking havoc across Hell, as lively as it was, had not passed quickly by any means.

But, a hundred years was still a better offer than eternity, wasn't it?

"Deal. You have yourself a trashman."

The light faded from Raphael's eyes but not from the rest of him. They still had to make a pact after all.

"I, Raphael, on behalf of He Who Is Above All, maker of Heaven and Earth, of all things visible and invisible, do make this solemn pact with Alastor the Radio Demon of Hell:

That in return for dispatching those who have condemned themselves to die and only those who have condemned themselves to die for a hundred years time do solemnly pledge to absolve his soul of sin and relinquish his freedom. To reincarnate him back into the world of the living with a pure and clean slate in order to give him a second chance to avoid the obliteration of the damned at the Day of Judgement.

Should any innocent life on Earth be quenched outside of the target than this holy contract is null and void."

He offered his hand to Alastor to shake and seal the contract, "Do you so swear?"

Pretty solid wording on that, very impressive.

And in return, that clawed hand extended to grip the angel's, firm and confident.

"Swear it, cross my heart and hope to die, again."

It did have to be official.

Raphael squeezed back, "Gloria. Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus in excelsis Deo."

The bright blue light moved from him and formed a mark on the back of Alastor's hand. Nothing that couldn't be covered by a fasionable glove. The light faded from Raphael completely and he let go of Alastor's hand.

He'd note well that mark on his hand, definitely going to have to get a glove for that. There wasn't many in Hell who would choose to risk their lives by actively mocking him, but hey.

He didn't need to clutter up his suddenly much fuller schedule with having to continuously curb stomp some mouthy newcomer.

"So, that's it until I get a call, I'm going to assume?"

"Yes." The angel agreed standing up, "I'll start the work of finding someone particularly loathsome for you. For the next hundred years we're partners."

((I've hope you've been enjoying this as much as me! Should we start a new one so that this one doesn't get cluttered up with comments?))

"Well you certainly know where to find me!" Not like he can go anywhere else.

[We can keep it in this post but definitely start a new thread so the page doesn't stretch. Do you need me to start?]

((Sure, you can start the next one.))

An Alastor RP Catchall

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