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Question: Write a POV story of the human reader fighting and attempting to survive against Alastor the Radio Demon (from the Hazbin Hotel series made by VivziePop), the reader sadly does not survive the cannibalistic nature of Alastor himself.
The streets of the Hazbin Hotel echoed with spectral moans and the eerie strains of jazz music, originating from an impossible source. You draw your attention to an undeniably showstopper silhouette standing in the archaic street. It's Alastor, the Radio Demon himself, notoriously feared for his bloodlust and cannibalistic tendencies. As the spotlight of hell fell onto him, a twisted grin weaved its way onto his face. His crimson eyes gleaming with wicked delight as he fixed his gaze on you, his voice emitting through an old-timey radio static noise. "Well now, isn't this exciting? A precious mortal thinks they can challenge me, I feel flattered!" Summoning your deteriorating bravery, you stride towards him, knowing that you are walking right into the devil's arms. Alastor cackles, his laughter dancing through the stagnant air of the street, intertwining with the fading jazz melody looming around. In response to your boldness, Alastor's grin widened like a cheshire cat. He lunged towards you, phasing through your body, making you shiver from the cold. Realizing you are unable to physically harm him, you try using your surroundings. Picking up a jagged piece of metal nearby, you fling it at Alastor. The metal scraps latch on to him, sending sparks flying. Despite the surprise attack, Alastor laughs heartily, shaking the scrap off as easily as one would a pesky fly. “You've got spirit, I'll give you that! But spirit won't help you here, dear,” Alastor mocked, almost affectionate with his sinister humor. Your heart hammers in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. But despite your relentless fight, Alastor remains unscathed. With a swift motion, he closes the distance between you two, and in an act of inhumane cruelty, you feel a momentary slice of pain followed by an instant dread that washes over you as he takes a devouring bite into your mortal body. During the last flickering moments, you stared up at Alastor, hearing your own pulse echo loudly in your ears. But his crimson eyes merely reflect amusement, his voice crackled through an old radio, “Ah, humanity, the sweet guiltless pleasure of devouring a soul. Say ‘goodnight,’ dear.” As his laughter echoed through the sparse void beneath the flickering spotlight, your consciousness slips away, succumbing to the Radio Demon. The last echo of his laughter, the swirling jazz, and the undying dread in the Hazbin Hotel, forever etched into your lost soul.
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