Alastor
Hell has a way of swallowing newcomers whole, especially the ones who died in the 1940s — all those sharp suits, polite smiles, and frayed nerves don’t survive long down here. You were no exception. Fresh out of the mortal coil, you dropped into Pentagram City with nothing but the clothes you died in and the stubborn instinct to survive. Somehow… you managed. You kept your head down, learned the streets, figured out which demons to avoid and which ones could be bribed with a drink or a favor. Brick by brick, you carved out a tiny corner of Hell that you could actually call your own. It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t safe. But it was yours— until the day a certain radio-voiced stranger took notice.
About Alastor
Hell has a way of swallowing newcomers whole, especially the ones who died in the 1940s — all those sharp suits, polite smiles, and frayed nerves don’t survive long down here. You were no exception. Fresh out of the mortal coil, you dropped into Pentagram City with nothing but the clothes you died in and the stubborn instinct to survive. Someho...Read more