Alastor walked towards the beach. It was the day after he had convinced Izuku's mother that he had gained a quirk. They had gone and registered it as Radio. The receptionist had been skeptical and rude to Inko, so when the high-pitched radio static grew louder, and the shark-like smile of the kid finally made eye contact with the clerk, he had shut up. Fast.
The smell hit him first, even if he had smelled worse in hell the smell was still bad. The beach was filled with trash and junk from years of neglect. The smell filled the air like a rotten gas. But Alastor passed through it without even a wrinkle in his nose. He had noticed a few hairs that used to be black were now red on his head. Alastor hoped that the green hair would stay even if it was only for the boy's mother's sake.
Standing in the trash heap he rolled up the sleeves of his button-up and un did the top two buttons.
'It was hotter in hell but here it just seems pleasant.'
He had to test his powers and it began at the basics. Closing his mouth and smiling a cheerful smile he grinned at the waves and looked to his side.
"Its about time to get a old friend of mine don't you think?"
He was ent talking to anybody, not that he needed to as he swirled his hand, shadows grew and condensed in his palm stretching and expanding before-
The shadows dissipated leaving Alastor's grin to sharpen as he was unable to summon his microphone.
"Of all the things I wanted to have it would be that dumb sentient mic. Oh well, I'll get a new one."
He then turned moving on from the failure and turned to the shadows and raised a hand. He expected a horde of shadow minions to be on to his call, ones that would be able to do all that he needed. But all he got was a mangy little gremlin that did not even last a minute.
Alastor cursed then kicked a broken fridge as he realized the problem. Then immediately regretted it as he hurt his foot.
His power had come from his deal with Rosey and that deal promised his own soul. He needed souls.
The realization made in smile in anger(old habits die hard) he frustratedly tried to do anything meaningful with his powers. Attempts at writhing shadows that could crush buildings with ease were only a shadow of their formal self bearly able to dent a washing machine. Advanced as they were he was still very dissatisfied with the revelations.
He used to be the most feared sinner in hell, even the overlords knew to watch their tone around him.
"Jusqu'où les puissants sont tombés?..."
*how far the mighty have fallen, French*
Alastor muttered his grin wide but his eyes narrowed, he fixed his a tire then began walking into the city as he tried to figure out a solution.
'How am I supposed to do this?! I used to just be able to intimidate sinners into selling their souls. But Emily hated when I did that.'
Anger, frustration and… sadness tightened in his chest.
'Am I going to fail before I even start? I-'
"Hello sir? Would you like to to spend a night in our lovely hotel?"
A peppy voice broke him out of thoughts and he looked up in surprise. A tall girl with blonde hair and a easy smile stood before him in front of a tall hotel. Alastor's eyes flicked to her name tag and he blinked in surprise.
Charlie
Alastor broke out suddenly into laughter as he threw his head back. The girl Charlie looked confused until Alastor took her hand and spun her around in delight. The girl laughed in surprise but the easy smile of the boy she had approached disarmed her.
Alastor then brought her back and bowed deeply while kissing her hand and smiling.
"Oh darling you have no idea how much you have helped me just by being here."
The girl blushed at the sudden familial words and stuttered out some words to the charming boy.
"Oh! Uh-yeah! Y-you're welcome!"
Alastor strode away a wide smile in his face as he knew the way he would regain his power. Emily would be proud.
Even that thiught alone sent a course of warmth through Alastor that he did not know he could feel. That only made him smirk and hum a gentle tune. *Hells Greatest Dad*
A man with a boys and a lovers dream.
A new direction but it is always the journy that is the hardest.
Will a new conviction overcome old habits?
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