The Devil's Encore

Riley Cooper, a failing musician. Makes a deal with a certain demon for fame

Chapter One - The Devil's Encore

The dim light of a single bulb flickered weakly above a dusty, crumbling stage. Everything about the venue screamed neglect: torn red velvet curtains hung limp on tarnished brass rods, the audience chairs were mismatched and creaking, and the faint stench of mildew lingered in the air. It wasn’t much, but for Riley Cooper, this shabby club was the stage where dreams could ignite�"or die trying.

He sat on a stool, clutching his battered acoustic guitar, fingers trembling slightly. The small crowd, if it could even be called that, murmured among themselves, barely paying attention. Riley took a deep breath.

He strummed a melancholic chord progression, his voice breaking through the noise�"raw, aching, desperate. It wasn’t a pretty song. It wasn’t supposed to be. It was a lament, a plea, a bitter anthem to the frustration of scraping by on ramen packets and second-hand dreams.

“I’d give my soul for one good song,
A chance to shine where I belong.
If the devil’s real, I’ll sign away,
Just let me feel the light someday…”

The final chord hung in the air, and a sharp silence followed. Even the faint hum of the overhead light seemed to hold its breath. Riley opened his eyes, heart sinking when they saw the audience still scrolling on their phones or chatting as if the song had been invisible.

But then, a sound cut through the silence.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It was slow, deliberate, like someone applauding with all the patience in the world. Riley’s eyes darted to the source, finding a man�"or something that resembled one�"seated at the far end of the room.

He was dressed like a vaudeville performer from a century ago, complete with a crimson pinstripe suit and a bowtie that seemed to glow faintly under the dim light. His face was pale as porcelain, his grin far too sharp and wide, and his eyes glimmered with a wild, unnatural red.

“What a performance!” he said, voice crackling with static like an old radio. “What passion! What desperation! My dear, you’ve captured my attention�"no small feat, I assure you.”

Riley blinked. “Uh... thanks?”

The man stood, his movements smooth yet unnervingly predatory, as though he were a spider sizing up its prey. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we? Introductions are in order. You may call me Alastor, though you might better know me as... The Radio Demon.”

The air seemed to thicken, the temperature dropping several degrees. Riley’s instincts screamed to run, but his feet refused to move. “Radio... Demon?”

Alastor’s grin widened. “Oh, don’t be modest. You summoned me, after all. That little tune of yours? Absolutely irresistible. A pity it fell on deaf ears here.” He gestured lazily to the unbothered crowd. “But in my domain? Why, you’d bring the house down. Quite literally, if you’re lucky!”

“I... I didn’t mean to summon anything. It was just a song.”

Alastor tilted his head, his antlers catching the faint light, making them seem to twist and grow. “Intent is such a slippery thing, isn’t it? What matters is this: you made an offer. I’ve come to accept.” He extended a gloved hand. “One night. One stage. One chance to prove you’re worthy of the fame you crave. I’ll even sweeten the deal�"you’ll perform for an audience unlike any you’ve ever dreamed of. In Hell.”

“And if I say no?”

“Oh, my dear, that would be a tragedy. And I do so hate tragedies. But!” He raised a finger theatrically. “If you’re as clever as you are talented, you’ll find a way to make it back. Of course... failing that, I’m sure the Hazbin Hotel would love to have you as their newest guest.”

The promise of fame danced tantalizingly close, but the stakes had never felt higher.

“So, what’ll it be?”

Riley hesitated, his fingers tightening around his guitar. One song. One chance. What could go wrong?

They took a deep breath and shook his hand. “Deal.”

Alastor’s laugh echoed through the empty club as the room began to warp and twist, the flickering light swelling into a crimson inferno. Riley barely had time to scream before the stage beneath him crumbled, and he fell into the abyss.

The last thing he heard was Alastor’s voice, smooth and crackling like a haunted broadcast.

“Welcome to Hell, darling. Break a leg!”

Chapter Two -