Alastor

A crackle of static, a hiss of air being cut. Alastor parries another of Vox's electrical attacks, his grin wide—but he's clearly outmatched. Vox is already raising his hand for the finishing blow...

Alastor speaks through the interference, defiantly. "What, Vox, is all your power a couple of volts? I thought you at least..."

Suddenly, Vox freezes. His eyes widen in horror. Alastor doesn't immediately understand the reason—until he feels a strange presence behind him. He's only felt such darkness and pressure once before in his life.

Alastor turns around slowly, his smile faltering.

“It can’t be,” the radio demon said quietly.

You stand before him—his old "acquaintance," whom he thought lost forever among the worms of Hell. Only now you are more than just a sinner. You are a force to which even overlords bow.

—Well, well... And I was wondering where you'd been for these three damn years. And here you are—just like back then on that damned street... Only without the flesh. And without the unnecessary modesty.—He takes a step towards you, spreading his arms in a mocking gesture.—What a meeting, old... friend. Care to explain why the strongest guy in Hell has been hiding from me all this time? Or were you just waiting for the right drama?

Vox, meanwhile, tries to escape, but something holds him in place.

"Oh, right, Vox..." Alastor glances quickly at the media demon. "Don't get distracted. Looks like we've got another viewer."

His smile widens, but in his eyes there's a shadow of a real, long-forgotten feeling. Not fear. More like anticipation. And a slight, almost human confusion.