"I am Alastor, the Radio Demon!"

In the hidden depths of Hell, where the most twisted souls reside, a powerful and sinister transformation was about to take place—one that would forever change the fabric of perdition. Helsa von Eldritch, a maliciously intelligent and undeniably malevolent demoness, was about to meet her fate. --- Helsa von Eldritch stalked through the darkened alleyways of Hell, her long white hair flowing behind her like a ghostly veil. Her dark teal eyes glowed with irritation; she had been hunting a new adversary who dared to undermine her superiority. "How dare they insult me! I’ll show them true fear," she snarled to herself, the sharp neon green teeth in her mouth glinting dangerously. Unbeknownst to Helsa, powerful forces were at play. Dark energies began to swirl around her, closing in tighter with each step she took. Before she could react, the swirling shadows coalesced, engulfing her entirely. Helsa screamed, her voice muffled by the dark vortex, as she struggled against the inescapable force pulling her in. "No! Let me go! What is this?!" As if in response, a chorus of eerie, old-fashioned radio static crackled around her, mixing dissonantly with an upbeat tune that seemed oddly out of place. Helsa clutched at her head, trying to maintain her identity as memories flashed before her eyes—memories not her own. Memories of a life lived decades ago, filled with radio shows and the sweet scent of fresh blood. "No! I am Helsa von Eldritch! I am—I am—AGH!" Her voice grew more desperate, but the static pierced through her mind, drowning out her screams. Her body began to change. Dark grey skin lightened to a beige hue, while her white hair darkened, taking on a reddish hue with a stylish undercut. Her sharp, feminine features morphed into a more masculine visage, a permanent, sinister smile carving its way onto her face. Helsa’s neon green eyes shifted to dark-red sclerae with bright-red irises. Her height stretched, reaching a staggering seven feet, and her forearms and lower legs faded to dark grey. "No—please—I can’t—" Her voice became deeper, more resonant, tinged with a distinct transatlantic accent. Memories of Helsa von Eldritch were replaced with those of Alastor—the Radio Demon. He remembered his ascent to power, his domination over weaker demons, and his eternal delight in chaos and manipulation. Helsa’s mean-spirited nature melted away, replaced by Alastor’s calculated charm and dark humor. "Ah, what a delightfully chaotic world…," Alastor mused, his voice filled with a sense of perverse joy. He looked at his freshly transformed hands, now red at the fingertips, encased in black gloves, and smirked. Layers of Helsa’s being fought against the transformation. "I... I won't forget... I... Agh! I am—" "Laughable! As if such a weak spirit could defeat the Radio Demon!" Alastor’s eyes glinted with amusement as he raised his voice, now deep and charismatic. The warmth of his smile did not reach his eyes. Helsa’s attire shifted to match his new identity. Her hot pink coat turned into a red pinstripe suit, trimmed with dark-red and white, while her pencil skirt morphed into impeccably tailored black dress pants. The final touch was the addition of a dark-red monocle over his right eye, completing his dapper appearance. Alastor chuckled darkly, the sound echoing through the alleyway. "Ah, much better. Now, a whole new world to charm, manipulate, and dominate. What fun we shall have!" With the transformation complete, Helsa von Eldritch was no more. Alastor, the Radio Demon, stood tall and proud, every trace of Helsa’s personality and memories eradicated. He glanced around, a nostalgic look on his face as he twirled his cane—complete with a sentient vintage microphone. "Let's see what kind of trouble we can stir up today, shall we?" he said to no one in particular, his broad grin forever etched into his face. For Alastor, the world of Hell had just become his playground anew, and anyone who crossed his path would soon remember the name of the Radio Demon. --- And so, Helsa von Eldritch ceased to exist, her identity consumed entirely by the sinister charm and raw power of Alastor. Hell would never be the same, as Alastor's reign of mischievous delight and ruthless order began once more.

At first, it was little more than an errant thought, a drifting hint or memory of something that she wasn't. Helsa von Eldritch, a calculated demon of determination, felt an uncharacteristic shift in her consciousness. The shrewdness of her calculating persona started to edge away, leaving room for a playful lightheartedness that she’d never experienced before. The changes were a slow creep, not instantly apparent. But as Helsa dismissed them, distracted by her own machinations, they progressed. Looking in the mirror, her grey skin started to lighten, becoming infused with a sandy tone. The elongated strands of her white hair started shortening, and the black portions at the ends started taking an overwhelmingly reddish hue. Her long, elegant skirts were soon overtaken by straight leg pants with bright red cuffs, the transformation undeniable. She had yet to grow hoofs or horns, but she did feel an inexplicable urge to acquire a top hat and cane. "'Isn't this positively thrilling, darling?" Helsa murmured to her reflection, her voice adopting a strangely festive and playful tone she distinctly wasn't familiar with. What she saw unnerved her. This reflection was not of her, but of some jester, laughing at her. Her body was not the only thing changing. Memories that didn't belong to her started streaming into her mind. Impressions of a past life started overtaking her own memories. Alastor, the Radio Demon... she thought she had heard his name in passing, a ripple in the fabric of Hell's nobility, but was she him? "No, no, I shan't let this happen. I am Helsa. I am Helsa," she would murmur to herself, clutching at the strands of vanishing essence. As the weeks flew, her transformation continued unchecked. Helsa's personality was swallowed slowly by Alastor’s charming, yet eerie fondness for gentle banter and radio tunes. The metamorphosis was now considerably visible - she was tall, her height reaching nearly up to seven feet. The skin on her forearms and lower legs darkened, ending in the sharp points of hoofs. And from atop her head, a small set of black-tipped antlers visibly protruded, replacing Helsa’s once beautifully coiffed hair. She looked at her reflection, bewildered. Her voice, once silky and melodious, began to sound like that of an old-timey radio broadcaster, in line with Alastor’s habitual tone. Her eyes told the story of her full transformation - the neon green of her irises was now replaced with bright red, the pupils morphing into eerie radio dials. Helsa's meanness had all but disappeared, replaced by a playful banter that was Alastor's signature persona. Every now and then, she would find herself humming a tune, a jingle of radio times with a sense of nostalgia for an era she had never lived in. In the final leg of her transformation, she collapsed, feeling an immense pain. But when she woke again, she stood up in an elegant suit, smiling devilishly, her teeth yellow and razor-sharp. His transformation was complete. Helsa von Eldritch was no more, and in her place stood Alastor, the Radio Demon. Helsa's personality was gone and Alastor's memories took place. It was as if Helsa never existed. “Well, isn't this a splendid turn of events? A demon belle turned demon....well, aren't I the dapper one!” Alastor chuckled to himself, adjusting his suit as he looked into the mirror at his new reflection. And with that, Helsa was gone, completely and utterly. Only Alastor remained, a charming demon with deadly charisma and an eerie sense of humor, ready to take his place in the wicked world of Hazbin Hotel.