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Chapter Text

As the old saying goes 'one man's trash is other person's treasure.' In this case, it's a hellhound pup's dinner. The little canine was able to find a drumstick in a trashbin and is happily eating away on the meat and bone when there was a loud metallic bang, frightening the poor pooch. It hides underneath the trash lead as two demon men come running into the alleyway.

One of them checked around the corner. "Looks like the coast's clear. Still got the stuff?"

His buddy chortled as he pulled out two balls of coke. "With all the drugs that Flake had stowed away, I doubt he'd be missing these puppies." Their snickering scared the poor pooch. It tries to look for a way to escape undetected, but it moved, a pipe fell, making the thugs jump at the sound.

"What was that?"

One of them pulls out a gun and saunters over to where the puppy is hiding. It tried not to whimper as the footsteps got closer.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" an odd, staticky voice reverberate from the other end of the alley. The demon with the gun whirled around, aiming the barrel pointblank at a chest clad in red. Red eyes stare at the pistol, his fanged grin not deterred in the slightest. "Be careful there, ya hear?"

Eyes widen in fear. "You're the-the-the—" the demon with the gun stuttered, the metal object rattling in his shaking grip.

"The Radio Demon!" his buddy shouted, running away. He did the same.

Seeing that it was no longer in danger, the little pup emerged from it's hiding place, panting happily at its deer-like savior.


Alastor snapped his fingers in slight disappointment. "Youngsters these days. Always running away." He shrugs. "Ah, well. It would only make their inevitable demise much more exciting. Following and chasing down victims is beneath me." As he fixes up his suit coat, humming as he did, he was unaware of a small creature ambling over to him. He was only made aware of its presence when it yelped twice.

Blood red eyes snap open and ruby irises peer down. At Alastor's feet is a brown fur puppy, looking to be a few weeks old, and has a scaly spine and tail. The very sight of the pooch made his skin crawl. With a curl of his lip, he struts away from the thing, the soles of his feet tapping. It wasn't long when he started hearing more footsteps in tandem with his own. He whips his head back to the puppy following him, its tail wagging.

His eyes glowed menacingly and his hair ruffled with agitation. "Go away." he ordered through gritted teeth, moving his hand in a 'shoo' motion. The dog did not move, except for stand on its hindlegs and yelping cheerfully. In order to scare away the mangy mutt for good, Alastor gave it his most nightmarish look. When he returned to normal, the pup was nowhere to be seen. He tugs at the lapels of his jacket in triumph before turning.


The feared Radio Demon nearly jumped out of his clothes when the pup appeared in front of him. The puppy was not afraid, still as cheerful as ever. And it made Alastor feel tense. That tension increased when the puppy decided to rub against his leg. It fell forward when Alastor disappeared into the shadows.

The puppy looked around, wondering where Alastor went to.