It also has a large, red "H" emblem on the front.

Once a dapper and formidable figure in Hell, Alastor prowled the infernal streets with an ever-present mischievous grin. Known for his cunning, style, and the enigmatic charm of an old-fashioned radio announcer, Alastor held a reputation as both a feared and revered entity. However, not even he could predict the fate that awaited him—a transformation so absurd and unimaginable that it would strip away every ounce of his sinister personality and formidable presence. It began one fateful evening in the heart of Hell, where Alastor ambled down a darkened alleyway. His mind was filled with thoughts of his next grand scheme, his grin wide and unfaltering as usual. Yet, something strange was amiss. The air around him seemed to thicken, and a strange, almost mechanical hum resonated in his ears. Before he could react, an unseen force gripped him, and his vision blurred from crimson to pitch black. His effortlessly dapper attire began to merge with his very essence, the red pinstriped coat melding into his flesh. Alastor's form began to swell, his beige skin taking on a more metallic sheen. His limbs grew heavy, his once slim and agile body expanding outward in ungainly proportions. The sharp, yellow teeth that adorned his ever-present grin were swallowed up as metal contours shaped a new form. The fabric of his clothes, the red coat, black gloves, and pointed black boots, stretched and blended into hard metal until every visible part of him was consumed by it. Alastor tried to scream, to protest, but his voice was swallowed by the unyielding transformation. His body grew impossibly large, his frame now stretching to a hulking 45 feet in length. His once lithe figure now felt the oppressive weight of metal and machinery taking over. His antlers collapsed into themselves, chunks of metal forming the bus’s frame and wiring. His mind, ever sharp and filled with countless thoughts, stories, memories, and devious plans, began to feel heavy, as though it were being buried under an avalanche. The sentience and self-awareness that had always driven his cunning and charm ebbed away with every passing second. The dark-red sclerae, bright-red irises, and thin black pupils of his eyes dimmed and faded into the cold, unseeing glass of bus windows. Desperation gripped him as he fought to hold onto the essence of who he was. But it was a futile effort. Each struggle, each mental grasp, was met with an overwhelming force that seemed to erase parts of his identity. His broad smile, a symbol of his menacing charm, was gone, replaced by the sturdy, uncompromising front grill of the bus. His voice, which once rang with the clarity and confidence of a vintage radio announcer, was now silenced entirely, replaced by the droning hum of an engine. Finally, the transformation was complete. Where Alastor once stood, there was now a large, bright red school bus with black stripes along its sides and a white top. Its length was vast, capable of seating up to 90 passengers—a far cry from the solitary and mischievous demon who once walked and talked with a transatlantic accent. Inside the cold, metallic frame of the bus, nothing of Alastor remained. His memories, filled with grandeur and schemes, were lost in the void. The playful dandyish exterior, the amiable persona, the dark, self-important core—everything was wiped clean. The effort he put forth in holding onto his true self had vanished into the abyss, leaving nothing but an inanimate object behind. Now, Alastor, the once fearsome and charismatic demon, served a new purpose. No longer plotting or weaving intricate machinations, he simply existed, his sharp intelligence and menacing charm replaced by the finality of stillness. To the world, he was just a red school bus, waiting to ferry passengers from one place to the next. And in his silence, the echoes of who he once was faded, leaving nothing but an empty vessel in their wake.

Alastor stood alone in an abandoned alley, his charming grin shimmering in the dim light. His antennae-like hair tufts twitched with anticipation as he clutched his microphone cane. Little did he know, this would be the last time he would wield it. Suddenly, there was a burst of intense light and Alastor’s body started to tingle, the sense spreading rapidly from his fingertips to the rest of his body. His blood-red dapper attire began to melt and merge into his skin, colouring it a bright, vibrant red. A gasp escaped from his lips, though it was less in pain and more due to curiosity. Alastor was changing. His slim physique started to thicken and broaden, his body widening dramatically as he grew heavy and unwieldy. His limbs, hands and feet shifted and morphed, crooked fingers metamorphosing into giant rubber tires, complete with black treads. The sharp, hoof-like tips at the end of hislegs became two large back bus wheels, his arms forming the solid body of the bus. The antlers on Alastor’s head enlarged and stretched out, curving around and forming the windshield framework of the bus, his eyes becoming its headlights. His monacle was transformed into a curved mirror mounted at the front - an essential attribute of a school bus. His microphone cane vanished, replaced by a shiny, silver exhaust pipe growing from his rear, matching the metallic sheen of the newfound windows along his sides. As his transformation continued, Alastor’s own sense of self started to wane, replaced by the monotony of an inanimate object. His memories, all the experiences and emotions started to blur before fading away. In a hidden corner of his rapidly disappearing consciousness, Alastor tried to resist, to hold onto who he was – the demonic charmer, the radio host. But with his cognitive decline, personal characteristics, senses and the ability to have thoughts were lost. His radiant grin faded, leaving behind just the angular, stern front of the bus. And then, it was over. Outwards shone the bright red finish of a glossy-coated school bus, black stripes running along its sides, the top painted white. Not a trace was left of Alastor – not a glimmer of his sharp wit, or his charming yet intimidating personality. The transition was astounding, the once vivacious, seven-foot-tall demon now reduced to an inanimate school bus, incapable of thought, emotion or movement on its own. The ebullient character was no more, silent, save for the soft echo that might just have been the fading sound of an old-fashioned radio broadcast.