(CN: Ughughghgh lazy writing, but at least i wrote it after months of procrastination.)

Hood pulled up, concealing most of the sinner's face, large off white snowflakes swirl around, carried by the icy gusts of wind. Alastor sat, huddled up against the inside corner of a building's outer walls. A black mask pulled over his mouth and nose, he squinted his eyes against the piercing winds of the blizzard, snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes.

Soon after the attack on the Hazbin Hotel enacted by the angels, strange changes began to overtake the hellish scape of the pride ring. It started with the eternal fires fluttering out. Burning hot pits of flame that had been raging on for eons suddenly began to snuffle out, as if suffocated by some odd weather change. Then came the clouds. Dark, ominous clouds formed over the dark red rings in the sky, before the humidity suddenly disappeared, only leaving behind an eerie chilliness. Then the snow. Fat snowflakes the size of one's palm floating from the clouds in large batches, often accompanied by swarms of smaller snowflakes. In the first few weeks, the sinner population greatly decreased, most sinners having grown accustomed to the unbearable heat in Hell, now couldn't adapt to the sudden temperature change. Newer sinners, having only just been thrown to the pits of eternal suffering, along with stronger and smarter sinners survived.Theweather changes continued to progress as lowly sinners and overlords alike scrambled to understand the sudden chills setting over the pride ring.The usual power scale was thrown to disarray as each was left to their own. The population of sinners continued to reach new lows as the sudden icy temperatures turned hell into a frozen nightmare.

Only a few sinners remained throughout the ice age of hell, most separated from those they considered friends and all alone, trudging through the thick blankets of snow and frost coating every surface. One of those sinners happened to be the Radio Demon, the once commanding overlord now reduced to a shivering mass as he cowered from the raging blizzard, bundled up to the point that he resembled a red marshmallow. Red deer ears flicking as they poke out from under the hood, he wearily glances around his surroundings. All he could make out was a freezing world of white, and the walls beside him. Alastor exhales a weary sigh before resting his chin on his gloved hands.