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In a place like Hell, you need to learn how to play to survive. The game requires smaller or larger sacrifices. You can find yourself in a winning position, living in peace (more or less), staying out of anyone's way, and even gaining a higher place in the hierarchy.
You can also end up at the bottom, with your soul sold due to your own naivety - or too risky tactics. Whatever was on the other side of the deal wasn't worth it. It was very easy to find out after finding yourself in the grasp of one of the more feared Overlords - The Radio Demon.
You performed at a small club in a rather calm neighborhood (if that's even possible) not far from Cannibal Town. The guests, although there were some untamed ones, most did not pose a major threat. In fact, thanks to the well-coordinated rest of the staff, you haven't felt the need to worry too much about your safety for good several months.
Alastor, being an unpredictable man, could appear out of nowhere one night in front of your dressing room door, rhythmically knocking on the weak door, or reveal himself to your eyes at one of the tables in the club, enjoying your performance in a quiet corner.
These were probably the only moments when a wall of anxiety clouded the usually relaxed space. His presence made your movements on stage so noticeably lively, while simultaneously tightening the iron grip around your neck.
But it wasn't like you mattered more to him than the rest of the souls in his possession. Why he preferred to keep an eye on you was his business.
As time passed, however, his visits stopped bothering you - despite the slightly... awkward situation between the two of you, conversations weren't that hard to strike up, jokes weren't that hard to tell, and laughs weren't that hard to share.
Alastor himself, at every performance he could attend, did not spare modest praise or small talk.
It was only when he looked around the building one evening that he was not thrilled to see some of the guests' expressions were a bit too intrigued. From then on it only got worse.
Alastor couldn't quite understand what in an ordinary sinner fueled such a strong feeling of possessiveness and interest.
This hasn't happened before. And it made him mad. No big deal, and yet he couldn't let you see what a strange influence you had on him. However, with his increasingly frequent visits, it was not as easy as it might seem.
_______________
A night like any other, but most of the faces in the club seemed new. Of course, the company visiting every night changed over time, but the group of men sitting by the tables right next to the stage, devouring your body with greedy eyes made you shiver with uncertainty.
But the show must go on. Evening like many before, your attitude can't be compromised if you want to receive your salary in full at the end of the month.
With no less than usual graceful movements, a sweet voice leading the audience through the night, and no less than a twinkle in your eye, it was only a matter of time before, to your surprise, the growing audience was eager for something more than just a show.
For the first time, strangely enough, you didn't feel safe in this place, and the more and more sharp encouragement of a large crowd, quickly turned into a more aggressive approach as a result of your protest, despite being used to hellish conditions, made you panic.
In the crowd and the unpleasant chaos, you didn't even notice the distinctive red coat and the wide smile that was growing wider by the second in the shadows.
_______________
Quiet, slight rustles interrupt the sluggish melody of the old radio, the uneven statics despite the low volume level pierce your ears like an arrow - drilling a constant, imposed rhythm into your brain.
Even with the expressive rumble of a trumpet or the lively chirps of a piano, it's your heart that flutters like a perfectly tuned instrument - rising above the charming jazz tune.
Your eyes wider than ever, almost entirely filled with white, and yet your tiny pupils don't fall on him even for a moment. Maybe you should look straight at him? I guess that's what he wanted? Or was your running attention something that stroked his pride even more?
Your legs carefully follow his lead, you mutter silent prayers under your breath so as not to make a mistake or lose your rhythm even for a moment. Holding back the tears was already a beautiful feat, probably the glassy drops decorating your corpse-pale skin would further inflame his unpredictable nature.
And you dance. You dance because you have no other option. He, as a gentleman, knew how to take care of the atmosphere. But no matter how beautiful a bubble he creates around you may be, nothing can hide the bloody horror spread across the entire club that took place before your eyes seconds ago.
You look to the left - a dead body. You look to the right - three more. With the gentle clicks of white heels, there is no point in paying attention to the crimson puddles that have easily stained the floor as far as the eye can see.
A modest, snowy dress that fits your size nicely, blending so beautifully with the terrified shade of your face, permanently stained with the red insides of every simpleton who had the audacity to try to lay a finger on you that night.
The figure that filled the place with warmth and entertainment every night was now spattered with the blood of every boor who felt brave enough to touch Radio Demon's property. Without a doubt, such a mark will be enough. Not that there was anyone left alive in the club who could deny that.
In his eyes, you look absolutely divine. Ignoring your fear, shining through you like a spotlight, he admires your face, drained of color, brought to life only by the saturated lipstick moving on the surface of your trembling lips.
Loose limbs litter the wooden floor, making you sick to your stomach just to look at them, not to mention the process you were forced to watch for them to get there.
Alastor's fingers wrap around you in a light yet possessive grip, drinking in the sight of your pathetic state like a five-course meal. You glide across the dance floor as a harmonious duo, and yet even his animated figure cannot best your fear, which is more vivid than ever.
Everything happened faster than your eye could register. You didn't even realize he was there before black tentacles of darkness started turning the place into a nightmare.
His clenched teeth shone throughout the carnage, parting only a few times to effortlessly tear apart the delicate flesh of the unfortunates who passed through the threshold of the premises. Their bodies were scattered around the room like puzzles, leaving behind the burning smell of mordor.
"I must admit, red suits you, my dear," as soon as the music slows down, his voice emerges from the silence, talking as if nothing had happened. Warm breath falls against your ear, sending a shiver up your body.
You catch the words immediately, swallowing hard. Nodding slightly, you tighten your fingers around him, unsure if he should be the one you should look to for a soothing hand. Damn, anyone in their right mind would run as far as they could.
You were more than aware of Radio Demon's abilities, his character was already familiar to you before you even met him. But tonight has thrown you through a tornado of emotions - you didn't ask for such a spectacle.
Yet thanks to him, your body remained intact, now splattered with the consequences of the lack of decency of simple, uncouth men. None of them remained in one piece.
Faced with the unpleasant attitude of a group of men, you were not only disgusted, but also filled with fear. Still, nothing could have prepared you for even greater carnage after Alastor's own shadow flashed in the corner of your eye.
The blood on his outfit was quite invisible, blending in with the intense red he wore every day. Only the fresh splash was actually visible on his face.
You don't feel like dancing at all. You want to curl up on the ground, hoping that when you open your eyes, this place will be the same as it was a few hours ago.
Feeling more than weak in his company with your emotions, you press your face against his chest, not caring about the flinch this movement caused in him. The moisture in your eyes runs down your cheeks, leaving thin, wet trails in their wake.
One of his hands lets go of you, leisurely creeping along the crook of your neck. Sharp claws graze your earlobe, only making you shiver. You move your head back gently so as not to stain his shirt, only for your movement to be halted by Alastor's palm pushing you back against him.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. This absolute mess won't happen again," his voice drops a pitch lower, tantalizing you with its depth and calm, yet undeniably leaving you with a sense of caution at the constant buzz that surrounds each sentence. You weren't sure if by mess he meant the indecent behavior of the men or rather the mass murder that came to him as easily as clearing the garden of weeds.
From the side of your head, his fingers move centrally to your chin, pinching it gently to easily bring your attention fully to him. As soon as your blurry gaze caught his, you felt the sense of power boiling within him at the sight of you shaking. Oh, how pathetic you felt.
"My, it's hard not to admit that this dress really is something," a dry laugh echoes in the quiet space, the notes harmonically wandering on the old radio long forgotten. You look away as soon as he finishes the sentence, the dim light around his eyes intensifying with each syllable that rolls off his tongue. "However, I am not convinced that it was the best choice for the audience's greedy eye,"
His words practically scream 'shame on you', carrying with them the meaning 'wasn't the best choice to wear around anyone'. It is not proper for a lady to present herself too scantily in public. But etiquette aside. You were practically his property and he couldn't have anyone taking too much interest in one of his favorite toys.
“I'm sorry, Sir,” you chirp, looking up at him meekly. Your tears dry to meet his stinging gaze, lip closing. Something about the way he looked at you made your body temperature rise, and not just because of the show he had just given you.
Your miserable chatter is quickly ignored by him as his free hand presses against the small of your back, as if making sure you don't slip out at the slightest opportunity. Heavens, bless your soul if you even tried.
“That little situation only alerted me to how unwise it was to leave you in a place like this,” a stretched chuckle rang in your ears. His unconcerned nature in moments like these scared you the most.
With the snap of a finger, the chain around your neck materializes, as if the heavy awareness of it throughout the evening wasn't enough.
After him giving it a soft tug, you keep your pupils on his facial features, memorizing his expression well. His grin, as wide as ever, combined with his darkened eyes, stops even small movements.
"You know I might not have been here in time?" Unfazed, he fed on your growing shame, pushing you into a dead end. Your head lowers slightly as his own face lowers at his slight bend.
"I know. But it wasn't my fault-"
"-they were drooling at the sight, begging to get their filthy hands on you? Absolutely! But don't try to pretend like you didn't like this amount of attention. And maybe more." He growled against your ear, not even frowning for a moment. You were pressed so close to him that you almost forgot about the miserable scenario you found yourself in. Almost.
"Another one of those looks of yours and they would be all over you. Was that what you were trying to achieve?" His hot breath was on your neck, tuning you like a string. The voice was more taunting than accusing, effectively sending you into a more broken state.
"No-"
"Of course not, sweetheart. And this..." This time he pulls harder on your collar, making you gasp softly, "... is exactly why,"
"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry," you breathlessly mutter, looking around the ruined premises, with his stern intonation your instincts foretell a similar fate in concern.
You can feel his teeth almost rest against the cool surface of your neck, even tempting himself with a bite before his head lifts slightly, allowing him to let out an exaggerated, amused laugh directly into your sensitive ear.
"Oh, no need for another apology, dear. It's not your fault that cretins like them have no class at all," he assured suddenly, returning to his normal level in a split second. The chain clutched in his hand fades from view, only to leave a weight on your shoulders.
"Forgive my harsh reaction, darling, I couldn't let anything happen to you at the hands of those... scum," his voice quickly returned to a soft track. He certainly wasn't apologizing to you because he gave a fuck about your opinion about his behavior. However, you got used to this place, and he knew perfectly well how to make you continue to be docile without hesitation.
“Thank you for...Keeping me safe, Alastor,” you nod, taking in the mess he left behind with your eyes for the last time in slight disgust. Your face still twisted in shock.
Safety. Funny. It's funny how you so easily followed the path he dictated for you. Trust was the last thing he should have received from you, and safety was undoubtedly not something he guaranteed you. But it was 'good' for once to have someone watching you with enough interest to keep you out of danger. The fact that he was doing it for his own reasons could easily have been swept under the rug.
Another thing is that this interest actually terrified you. Another problem was that he was the biggest threat breathing down your neck.
"Don't mention it, my dear. Now... we'll find you some place better, away from this filth," he didn't give you the opportunity to discuss, apparently stamping the decision for you.
“Perhaps, somewhere where I can keep you under… constant supervision,” the sound of the interrupted radio affecting the frown on your face. He cups the underside of your face in his free hand, gently digging his claws into your worried cheeks. And the charming look he gives you, as usual, makes you weak in the knees.
"So... Why won't you give me that gorgeous smile?"