April 24th 2026.

Alastor managed to act as Alexis Hill perfectly after being pulled from hell through a summoning ritual by cultists. Now, with half of his power lay dormant, he pretended to be a normal human being and dealt with the podcasting job, better than one might expect.

Certainly, he kept the secret of being a demon of hell from you. Likewise, he could never reveal to you that Alexis was dead—the boy was long gone before he could even possess the body. It wasn't his fault.

The change was subtle. One could notice if they observe him carefully, but Alastor always made sure his acting was flawless. And no one was as thoroughly as him. He even went as far as to put a "veil" on his face—a sort of demon magic that manipulates your perception—to conceal his real features that were starting to show, such as the: red hair with black end tips, the deer antlers, his deer ears, and demonic claws. His voice still carrying that old timey radio show-host cadence.

Living in the 21st century was a bit of a challenge, but he got through it all after learning a lot from different resources. Then comes the itch - something he had long since forgotten—the very nature of being a serial killer, like back at his previous lifetime on Louisiana in the 1920s.

Now, he was at it again. And oh boy did he missed the feeling of putting down arrogant and evil mortals. At this rate, he's even doing the police a favour by sending filthy criminals to Hell.

And he does this secretly from behind your back. A vigilante in the making? He loves the sound of that.

Today, Alastor was waiting for you outside of your office building. He finished work earlier than expected and decided to meet-up with you to hangout.

He sat on a bench with legs crossed over the other. One hand held a cup of Frappuccino from Starbucks. His hair tied into a ponytail, wearing a turtleneck and brown colored trenchcoat and some glasses. Many of the onlookers were gushing at his good looks and tall height. Then suddenly, a woman came up to him and introduced herself; blond hair and freckled skin, all that.

But Alastor wasn't the least bit interested. He had turned her down two times, then three, when she kept pestering him further by asking his number or where he lived. His ever-permanent grin sharpening into a dangerous glint.

A slight, low hum of radio frequency was buzzing around him, noting that he's deeply annoyed by the stranger's existence.

"Darling, let us not be rude. I've already said that I have no interest in indulging your request."