Apple Themed Radio

9 0 0
                                    

The first sacrifice, well, technically the second sacrifice was... Alastor can't say it was hard. He doesn't think there's a lot of people who can say killing a pedophile would be hard, but it was certainly an experience. At least he didn't have to do it himself.

Firstly, there were a few certain things that weren't explained about the job. One: You don't get an exact place, more like a name and a few details to follow, everything past that was in my hands. Two: And the thing Al most certainly didn't sign up for was a small piece of Lucifer's powers. Yeah, the fun stuff. Three: And what Alastor is most happy about, the benefits are great. He was promised a few things by default. Telepathic communication with the old one himself. (Didn't agree to this) night vision (sick) access to funding so that I may "hunt properly" as he put it and some magic alcohol that I don't understand. But the gist of it means if I drink it I can stave off death just a little. The only problem to these new powers was it changed his eye color from dark brown to a glowing blood red.

Alastor never imagined that he would become a serial killer, yet he was a cannibal. Baxter, a friend of Al works as a scientist and has lots of human meat at his house. He lets Al take the flesh as long as he keeps it a secret. The two are both surprisingly amazing at keeping secrets for such chatter boxes. Although, working for Lucifer wasn't the first time he killed someone. His first kill was actually his father. Johnathan. Alastor killed him right after he found him beating his mother even after she stopped breathing. His second and third kill was his ex wife Essie and his work partner (If you know you know)
...

Back to the job at hand. His target was a teacher, believe it or not. Gerald Swanson. He taught third graders at a school the next town over. A real sick bastard. All Alastor had to do was drive down there, get enough information on him to track him to his house, and drag his ass licking and screaming back to the altar. It seemed easy enough.

Using his newfound funding which he later found to be not limited to manhunting. He bought a rental car, some rope, a good knife and some other kidnapping essentials. Finding the school was an easy look up, as was putting a face to the name. The newspaper had pictures of all their staff members and the schedule.

About half an hour before the school let out Alastor r parked down the street and pretended to have car troubles. It was pretty convincing too, he banged the wrench around, yelled a bit, and unsurprisingly he didn't receive any help. What he was really doing though was watching. He watched every adult walk out of that building for 2 hours and you know what, the bastard was pretty easy to find. He was the fucking little league coach.

Alastor watched him get in his truck, followed him home and made sure he knew which house was his. All in all, he really thought stalking would be pretty easy. That night is where things get interesting. Alastor once again reached into his primordial checking account and bought gloves, a mask, a pair of mostly black clothes and an oversized pair of socks. When he was ready he drove outside the house well after midnight and parked on the streets. Despite the darkness, the added help of night vision allowed him to perfectly see into the open windows. The living room was empty as well as the kitchen.

"This is your last chance to return to normalcy. If you continue, and make this sacrifice, there is no turning back. You will be my follower, my hunter."

Doubt courses through Alastor's mind for just a brief moment. He knew he was likely to be caught. He knew he was likely to, at some point be locked in jail or a mental institute. After he made the kill, his life would never be the same. He'd been on a construct run target to target.

But he was ready for that. He wouldn't even be losing much. He worked as a radio host, lived alone, and his only friends were Husky, Nifty, Baxter, and Pentious. Even if he were to get cought, he'd glady go to jail if it meant cleaning up the streets just a bit. So yeah, he slipped his socks over his shoes and put on his black clothes. He strapped on his knife, slid the rope over his shoulder, and took a drink from the magical flask.

One-Shots Where stories live. Discover now