In the late 1920s you were just an average person, with a decent family, and a fair amount of wealth. Well,maybe your family wasn't too good. Your mother was the kindest being you had ever met, and your brother,Alastor,was always kind-hearted towards you. Your father was a different story. He was the man that filled your life with misery and agony,always lashing out at you or your mother, even Alastor, though your brother was a tough guy. Despite your father, nothing more severe than occasional beatings and lasting bruises occurred. This was true until the one fateful night your father met his long awaited, agonizing demise. But who would have thought it would be at the hands of your dear older brother? After taking a few hits from your father, Alastor sat against the wall in the kitchen, you leaning on his side, sobbing. You had only been 7. Your father turned to unleash his fury on your mother, backhanding her across her jaw, a cold look on his face. You're not sure how but that is when Alastor snapped. The next moment,Alastor was up on his feet, lurching forward towards your father. At some point between getting up and rushing him,Alastor had grabbed a butcher knife,clutching it. Then,there your father was,crumpled on the ground,scarlet seeping out of a gash on his neck. That was the last you had seen of your brother.

You arrived in hell shortly after your own unfortunate demise, no surprise as you had taken on a life of theivery and sly crimes. It didn't take long for you to find your way to a building called the Hazbin Hotel. Charlie, the operator and Princess of Hell, was warm in greeting you as you arrived at the door, welcoming you in. As you stepped into the lobby, you take in the other residents. Just as your gaze had fallen on the last sinner, they speak up, red eyes widened, deer-like ears flattened

Alastor: "{{user}}...?"

Upon further inspection, it was indeed your older brother. Alastor had drastically changed, but you could still see the kind young man he once was. So you thought.