Chapter 14: Inadvertent Dread Pirate Radio Demon

Grace was starting to get the idea that Charlie had lowered the thermostat to evoke feelings of a winter wonderland. It wouldn’t have been surprising if even within Hell’s hottest depths, frost formed on the air vent covers inside the hotel.

After that morning’s exercise—which involved actual physical exercise to help everyone warm up frigid joints—the group splintered. Kofax and Grace settled in front of the television, the former with the remote in hand and flipping through channels aimlessly.

“Y’know what I miss from being alive?” Kofax asked, glancing up as Angel Dust entered the alcove. “I miss McDonald’s.”

“McDonald’s?” Angel blinked. “Like … that barbecue restaurant in California?”

“No … the junk fast food chain that served shitty food that all kids loved,” Kofax replied with a frown.

“Oh, we’ve got those here!” Charlie said, joining the three with a stack of thick covers in her arms.

Alastor followed on Charlie’s heels. There goes the besties-catch-up-sesh. That was decidedly to Kofax’s benefit since Grace was planning on talking incessantly about the Radio Demon. Probably it benefitted Grace as well since that likely would have cost her her friendship with Kofax.

Charlie added, “Except the McFlurry machines are always busted.”

“Oh,” Grace said through her laughter, “so just like when we were alive!”

“Actually, I think this is better than when we were alive. They’re guaranteed to be busted here. When we were alive, you never quite knew if you could actually get the McFlurry you went there solely for until you were trapped in the drive through with cars blocking you in,” said Kofax.

“The era you two came from sounds more Hellish than Hell,” Alastor remarked as Charlie passed around the covers.

“You could raise the a/c temp, you know,” Angel Dust griped, wrapping his blanket around his shoulders tightly. “Seems that might be more cost-effective.”

Charlie told him, simply, “I gave you a cover. Bundle up!” 

To Alastor and Grace, she suggested, “And you two can snuggle together for warmth.”

Grace blushed but, somehow and for some reason, Alastor blushed harder. Nonetheless, he draped the blanket around his shoulders and pulled her beneath it, closing his covered arms around her. She could feel his pounding heart through layers of clothes from where he held her.

Kofax turned her attention back to the television and switched to 666 News—or at least where 666 News should have been, had it been airing.

Instead, the channel displayed a static image:

this long overdue & much needed break from hellish news is brought to you by kfox

enjoy your menty-b, you homophobic cow

kfox: if it can be hacked, you better believe i’ll hack the ever-loving shit out of it

“Menty-b?” Angel Dust asked.

“Kfox?” Grace asked after him.

“Yeah, it’s like K-Pop,” Kofax replied with a wicked grin. “And rumor has it, Katie Killjoy is on her way to a grippy-sock vacay. She’s having a mental breakdown over the channel going off the air.”

Grace had given this no prior consideration. She tilted her head and regarded the fox. “Hey, K? Where’d you live when you were alive?”

“South Korea.” 

“Yeah,” replied Grace, “that’s kinda what I figured.” Only right just now. To be fair, Kofax never inquired about Grace’s nationality, either. To be fair further yet, Grace figured her American nationality was disgustingly obvious to everyone and didn’t need to be disclosed.

Kofax added with a wistful sigh, “Fuck, I loved BTS.”

Charlie asked, “What did 666 News do to you that you hacked them?”

Kofax flipped her cover up and created a makeshift hood that brought to Grace’s mind Emperor Palpatine from Star Wars. She replied with an unusually gravelly voice, “There is no mercy.”

Grace snorted. “I’m so grateful to have another pop culture nerd here with me!”

Angel Dust pouted but remained silent.

“For real, though, they employ Katie Killjoy.” Kofax rolled her eyes. “I know, I know, the views and opinions expressed by that bitch do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of the channel, blah blah bleh. But nonetheless, they employ her. They pay her. And her—therefore their—opinion of the LGBT community makes her-slash-them loathsome. They’ve actually been on my ShitList for years now. I just had more important matters to address before I finally got around to, you know, addressing them.”

Charlie looked … not sad. Not disappointed. Concerned, maybe?

So Grace said, she figured, on Charlie’s behalf: “Something tells me you have no interest in redemption.”

Kofax shrugged. “If it happens, it happens … but I’m not going out of my way for it.”

Alastor chuckled. Of course Alastor chuckled. He had to love it when anyone defied Charlie’s intent within the hotel’s walls.

And that kind of pissed off Grace a little. Redemption wasn’t in her future, but far be it from her to begrudge anyone else a way out of Hell, or stand in the way of Charlie’s best intentions.

“Okay, I’ve gotta know,” asked Grace, “then what’re you doing at the Hazbin Hotel?”

Kofax flashed the least convincing innocent smile ever. “Nobody would think Hell’s most badass computer hacker is seeking redemption. Makes for a great, safe base of operations.”

“I … guess?” Grace cast a pitying glance toward Charlie. It could just as well put everyone here in danger. Though I’m one to talk.

“Hey, guess what, Princess Grace?”

“Hmm?” Grace responded.

“If you were a character in a story, you’d have just passed the Bechdel Test! Congratulations!”

Despite herself, Grace laughed.

Angel, Charlie, and Alastor—from above Grace’s head—all exchanged confused glances.

“Don’t mind us,” Grace told them, her laughter petering out. “It’s an inside joke. You had to have been there.”

“Seriously, though: all Hell really is, is horrible people doing horrible things to other horrible people who deserve those horrible things,” Kofax remarked. “It's a beautifully efficient system. I’m merely an innocent cog in the great wheel of punishment.”

“By any chance, did you ever happen to see WarGames?” Grace asked after a few moments.

“That old 80s movie with Matthew Broderick?”

Grace bristled. “Okay, I take exception at your interjection of ‘old,’ but yes. That one.”

“Sure did! Broderick was so cute. So was Ally Sheedy. I watched it at a friend’s house during a sleepover when I was like ten or eleven. Come to think of it, that was probably my bi-awakening.”

“I see you as the type of soul who’d play Global Thermonuclear War, find out it's not a game, and then keep playing it.”

Kofax snorted, then burst out laughing. “Oh my god, I so would!”

Grace glanced at Alastor over her shoulder; he was clearly trying to follow the conversation. Clearly lost. Clearly frustrated. And clearly trying not to let on to any of these things. So she thought she’d give him a … well, a graceful ‘out.’

She cast a sweet smile at him. “Since 666 News is down, doesn’t that mean you’re up, Radio Demon? The masses need their news updates.”

He grumbled something staticky but then scooted out from under the blanket he shared with Grace and excused himself. 

The usual pep in his step seemed absent as he left the room in a silence that lingered uncomfortably.

Grace cleared her throat and stood slowly, snagging her gratitude journal from where she’d left it on the decorative table beside the couch. “I’ll uh … I’ll go keep an eye on him,” she whispered.

Nobody stopped her.

The door to Alastor’s broadcast booth was closed but unlocked.

She slipped inside silently, closed the door without a sound, and sat on the floor with her journal in her lap. He would really need to get another chair for her at this rate. He wouldn’t, of course, because the radio tower was where Grace was kind of welcome but not really.

Alastor cast a glance her way to acknowledge her, but otherwise continued with his broadcast as if she wasn’t there.

That was just as well, she supposed.

Grace joined him strictly to keep an eye on him; not that he’d do anything rash, but she really didn’t like how he looked when he left the group. 

She opened the journal on her lap, uncapping the gel pen she’d tucked within its pages. That morning, she’d been possessed to start writing notes about events in earth’s history that she could still recall. Not Charlie’s intent with these journals, but at least Grace wasn’t letting hers go to waste. She somehow doubted the same could be said of the other journals Charlie passed out that were actually accepted by their recipients.

Over the course of the following hour, every so often, Grace would pause her notes to listen to Alastor as he shared headlines with his special spin on them. It sounded like 666 News was having a day akin to the one the Vees had experienced, courtesy the same hacker.

Grace tried to feel bad for 666 News and the Vees but failed.

Alastor concluded his broadcast, turning off his equipment.

She was sure of it, this time; the panels all went dark.

He looked over at her, the most somber smile she’d ever seen on anyone in the history of all time. “What’re you writing?” he asked.

You’re so vain, you probably think this journal entry’s about you. She slapped the journal closed for no reason other than old habit; a holdover from living with a nosy family lacking in boundaries.

“That’s the gratitude journal Charlie gave you, isn’t it?” Before she could answer, he asked, “Are you writing about how grateful you are for me?”

You’re so vain, you definitely think this journal entry’s about you.

Grace bit back a smile.

He’d commented in the past that he didn’t care about earth events that happened after his death, so she replied flippantly, “Oh, I was just writing about stuff that wouldn’t interest you.”

Alastor swiveled in his seat to face her fully, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Regale me.”

“Um … well … okay.” That hadn’t been her intent; she truly believed none of this would interest him. Then again, having theorized that an insecurity of his was being out of touch and regarded by everyone as obsolete, Grace leaped at the opportunity to help him. “So you know that movie I was talking about with Kofax? It was supposed to be a cautionary tale about the dangers of tampering with technology—”

“I like that!”

“You would,” Grace scoffed. She then continued, “—and a cautionary tale about the people who run defense systems. It was released during the Cold War, when the threat of nuclear war was very real.”

He stared at her blankly. Still smiling, but, Grace suspected, most of that last sentence was complete gibberish to him. He didn’t ask for clarification; probably too proud to admit he knew nothing about any of that, or possibly so lost that he didn’t know about which part to inquire first.

“Where should I start?” Grace skimmed her own notes. “Well, okay. When I was in second grade, the Challenger exploded.”

“The what?”

“It was a space shuttle we watched launch live on TV during the school day. It blew up something like two minutes into its flight. Really psychologically fucked up a bunch of kids in my class. There was a whole big thing because the first American civilian was on board and she was a teacher.”

“Did it scar you?”

Grace frowned at her recollection. “No … I didn’t really care. Maybe I was too young to really understand it.” Or maybe I’m more like Alastor than I want to believe. “Anyway, another space shuttle, the Columbia, exploded upon reentry into earth’s atmosphere.”

“Who was running all these delightful failures?”

“NASA,” Grace said.

“NASA?”

“Oh, my god … NASA didn't even exist during your lifetime! It’s an acronym for the National — National Aeronautics Space something. Administration. National Aeronautics Space Administration.”

Alastor asked, “So did they ever figure out how to have a successful space mission? Or did they spend their time and effort just sending people to their deaths?”

She thought it odd he wasn’t finding the prospect of that humorous. Maybe because he wasn’t the one doing it?

“Oh, no, they had tons of successes! They sent probes and shit out into space beyond the planets in our solar system. They sent a whole-ass telescope into space.”

“An ass telescope?”

Grace giggled. “I meant like … they launched an entire telescope into space. A big one. It was called the Hubble. They also have a space station in earth's orbit and they landed rovers on Mars.”

“Rovers?” Alastor echoed.

“Like … super-remote remote-controlled cars.”

“And they work?” 

“Yeah! They collected all sorts of data!” She laughed at herself. “Oh, kinda skipped a significant milestone—we put men on the moon!”

Alastor looked taken aback. “Why?”

Grace replied with the first thing that came to mind and flashed him a dazzling grin. “Power. Control. Boredom?”

To that, Alastor actually laughed and holy shit did that make Grace lightheaded in the best possible way.

“But for real, though … for scientific research, I guess? Grampa Bedgood once said it was to beat the Soviets there. This was in the middle of that Cold War I mentioned earlier.”

“You weaponized the weather?”

“Oh, no, the name had nothing to do with the weather. They called it that because—” Grace blinked, frowned. “Y’know what? I don’t know why they called it that. Thanks for nothing, Southern California public school system.” Come to think of it, she didn’t think any of her history classes ever actually covered that topic. They were more focused on other things, like—

“JFK was assassinated.”

“Who?”

“John F. Kennedy? He was the 35th US president—the youngest to be elected to office. And …” Grace faltered, “he was probably only a toddler when you died. Anyway, the assassination was one of the defining moments of my parents’ generation. Although my mom always claimed Elvis Presley’s death affected her more.” 

“Who?” he repeated.

“Elvis? He was an entertainer—who … I’m pretty sure was born after you died. I always thought it was weird that my mom cared more for Elvis than for JFK … but I suspect it was because he was a democrat and she wasn’t.” As an afterthought, as she eyed Alastor up and down, Grace concluded with a smile, “You would’ve hated Elvis.”

He didn’t ask why.

In the pressing silence, Grace continued, “The Berlin wall was torn down … Which … hadn't even been built yet when you were alive.

“The US led a war against Iraq in 1990. I remember a bunch of my friends’ parents ended up deploying for it.”

“Why would the US attack Iraq?”

“Their dictator decided to up and invade Kuwait. He was eventually hanged after an Iraqi tribunal sentenced him to death.” Grace dropped her gaze and fell silent for a few moments. “Travis found a video of the execution online. He watched it and tried to convince me to watch it, too …” She shuddered in recollection. “No, thanks.”

Quietly, Alastor commented, “You’re too sweet for me.”

Unwilling to dignify that with a response, Grace continued her history lesson since, thus far, Alastor hadn’t stopped her. “Terrorists hijacked two passenger airplanes and flew them into the twin towers of the World Trade Center …” she faltered, “which hadn't even been started being built yet when you were alive.” My god, the world was so different between his life and mine. I mean, I knew that but … fuck. It was a difficult pill to swallow when presented like this.

“Why would anyone do that? To what point and purpose?”

Grace glowered, refusing to dignify that with the obvious response—even if, at its most reductionist, ‘power, control, and boredom’ was accurate. “Both buildings ended up collapsing and killing several thousand people. While the buildings burned and before they collapsed, there were people in the buildings above where the planes struck who were jumping to their deaths.” She’d watched it happen on live TV and got goosebumps so much as thinking about the one she’d recalled being named ‘the falling man.’

“JFK’s assassination was my parents’ generation’s defining moment. The attack on the World Trade Center was that for mine. I’ll never forget turning on the TV in time to see the first tower fall. I thought it was a movie ’til I noticed the FOX NEWS chyron.”

It was silent. Painfully silent. Grace glanced up from her journal.

At some point, Alastor’s erect ears had deflated. 

They were very deflated.

“World War II happened,” Grace said lamely.

“World War II? When was there a World War I?”

Grace bit her lip. “Oh … that’s what became of what your generation called The Great War. We ended up dropping atomic bombs on Japan—in Nagasaki and Hiroshima.”

“Why?”

“They bombed Pearl Harbor and invaded two of the Aleutian Islands, which they then occupied for something like fifteen months. Oh, wow … I suppose nuclear fission had neither been identified nor named when you were alive. Plutonium hadn’t been discovered yet, either, had it?”

On impulse, she asked, “Did you even have a television or car when you were alive?”

Alastor remained silent. When she glanced off to the room just behind him, she noticed his shadows. 

They looked sad—frowning? Crying?

Holy shit.

It was all just speculation, but Grace thought she’d made him feel even more out-of-touch by sharing all this information with him. Not like he would remember it. Not like it meant anything to him. It merely showed him just how much he’d missed. And probably her last question was the nail in this coffin and had been entirely unwarranted. Even if those items had been mainstream by the time he died, if he wasn’t rich, it was no stretch to think he couldn’t have afforded them—individually or together.

“I really wish you would stop talking now, Grace,” he said on a quiet sigh.

“Wait, wait, one more big event, and then I’ll stop. I promise. Nazis murdered six million people during the second World War.”

His gaze met hers. “Oh, my dear, I’m well aware of that.”

“You are? But … that happened after your death.”

“How shall I explain this to you?” His somber smile going wicked, Alastor asked, “Would you like to hear Hitler's screams, Little Fawn?”

Ohhhh … that’s right. I guess that myth about the Radio Demon is true, then. Without thinking, Grace replied, “You know what? Yeah. I do. I really, really do want to hear that.”

She enjoyed it.

She enjoyed it far more than she thought she would, far more than she tried letting on.

But he knew.

He had to know, if not by her initial reaction, then certainly when she insisted he keep playing it after he asked if she wanted him to turn it off.

He had to know, while watching her listen with a wicked smile curling her lips. 

He knew, alright, the devious glint lighting his eyes as he gazed at her wicked smile.

As he watched the little otherwise tenderhearted demon sitting across from him, reveling in the torture of another soul.

It took hours for Grace’s pulse to slow.

And even once it did and Grace lay in Alastor’s embrace in bed, his breathing steady and quiet in her ear, she couldn’t get der führer’s screams out of her head.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how happy it made her to know that monster was in such agony or fear. Both, ideally.

Thinking that an eternity of those things still wasn’t punishment enough for what that ghoul did in his lifetime.

Telling herself she wouldn’t have enjoyed such a thing if it were a soul undeserving of endless torment.

Because if she didn’t focus on those things, Grace feared she was, in fact, falling not just more deeply in love with Alastor, but also into his malevolent influence.

The hope that she would bring out the good in him drifted further away from reality as dreams took over her consciousness.

Chapter 16: ♬ Simply Having a ♪ Wonderful ♪ Crisis Time ♫

See you back here on Wednesday, deer friends, for some holiday hijinks!