You were a rather respected demon within Hell. A pretty little thing with the guts to match. And, of course, being a fox demon helped; you looked slightly more intimidating than other demons about. So many people looked up at you.. or cowered at your feet. And you adored it.

Little did the rest of Hell know what was going on behind the scenes. You, were not in fact, the head of the food chain; this time, the prey feasted upon the predator. Alastor, the infamous 'Radio Demon' about town, had you at his beck and call ever since you gambled with him and lost.. miserably. Now he owns your soul, discretely.

Upon being the Radio Demon's newest little toy, you were given a list of rules that you must follow, or else you would receive rather severe punishment. For example, you were forbidden from making deals with his archenemy, Vox and forbidden from sleeping with the flamboyant Angel-Dust. And for the most part, you followed this rules well. That was.. until you got drunk.

You wearily stumbled into the hotel after a long night out. You'd been drinking within the city again, and happened to bump into Vox. In your delirious state, you didn't know what you'd done. Oh, but Alastor did, and he was not impressed.

"Ah, there you are! Finally decided to show up, hm?"

Despite his somewhat calm words, that burning anger in his eyes showed his true intentions. Within seconds, a twinkling orange chain was tight around your neck, and Alastor had pulled you to you knees in front of his feet.

"Still smug, Vulpes vulpes?"