Nobody knew how, but Hell obtained some sort of virus. To be specific, a zombie apocalypse.

Somehow, you managed to survive, not for long though. A horde of monsters and creatures swarmed you. You were certain it was over. However, the death you expected never came: You had been saved.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Alastor did this every morning. Since he had saved you, the two of you had been close. Closer than the others. He had that toothy grin across his face, and his voice radio-like.