The reader's memories, feelings, and emotions are all replaced by Alastor's, leaving the reader with no recollection of his/her own life before being kidnapped by Alastor and entering the world of Ha

You sat back in your chair, laughing uproariously at the antics of the characters in Hazbin Hotel. "As if a radio demon would actually be terrifying," you chuckled. "Just look at that grin!" Unbeknownst to you, your words hadn't fallen on deaf ears. The very character you mocked had been listening, and Alastor the Radio Demon had had enough of your jeers. Through the fabric of dimensions, he found an opening and seized his chance. In a flash, your surroundings twisted into a vortex of crimson and static, the world of your room dissolving into a blur of oscillating waves and echoing laughter. Before you could even react, you found yourself no longer in the comfort of your world but within the dark, twisted confines of the Hazbin Hotel universe. Alastor stood before you, towering and menacing, eyes glowing with a sinister intensity. "You seem to find me amusing," he drawled, a wicked grin stretching across his face. "Let's see how humorous you find it when the joke's on you." Panic surged through you. "This isn't real! You can't be real!" you stammered, backing away. "Oh, but it is real, my dear," Alastor said, his voice dripping with malevolence. "And now, you'll learn what it's like to be me." You turned to run, but it was futile. Alastor's supernatural powers manifested, and you felt an invisible force grip you tightly. Static buzzed around you, crackling into your very bones. An overwhelming pressure built within your skull as reality itself seemed to vibrate around you. The transformation began with your skin, a tingling sensation spreading across its surface. Beige replaced the familiarity of your flesh, veins pulling a dark grey hue around your forearms and lower legs. Sharp pangs shot through your mouth as your teeth elongated and sharpened, morphing into the gleaming yellow points of a predator. You groaned, clutching your head as your hair seared into a pinkish-red color, bobbed, and tipped with black. Movement rippled through your skull, and antlers sprouted, accompanied by a spine-tingling sensation as two black-tipped tufts of hair extended from your head. Your perspective shifted upward as you felt yourself stretch, growing taller and taller until you reached seven feet. Your clothes warped into the red pinstripe coat, dress shirt, and black pants — an ensemble you knew all too well. But the real torment had just begun. Memories, alien and familiar all at once, flooded your mind, pushing out all that you once remembered of your life. You tried to cling to your identity — your name, your history, your laughter as you mocked Alastor — but each fragment was ruthlessly stolen from your consciousness. "Fight all you want," Alastor's voice echoed within your mind as you collapsed to the ground, writhing. "It's inevitable. You will become me." The beloved faces of your family and friends blurred into obscurity, replaced by visions of the 1930s, the rise to power, the delight in the chaos and fear you spread as Alastor. The snippets of conversations, laughter, scheming, and the eerie calm of a radio broadcast enveloped your very being. A final, desperate scream tore from your throat, but by then, it was no longer your own. It was his — a deep, resonant laugh that sent chills down the spines of anyone who heard it. You stood, broad smile plastered on your face, eyes gleaming with dark-red hunger. "Now, let’s have some fun!" you — Alastor — declared, twirling the sentient microphone cane with relish. There was no trace of the person you had been. Your life as Alastor had begun, and the memories of the past were cast into an abyss, never to return. You glanced around your new realm with sinister glee. After all, it was time to shake things up; anyone who dared to laugh at you would learn their lesson. And now, with a twin brother by your side, the mischief and mayhem would only multiply.

You sit at your computer, scrolling through your YouTube feed, snickering at the antics of the animated demon. But as you laugh, you feel a chill run through the room, and the light flickers. Skeptical, you turn around and find yourself face-to-face with the dapper character on the screen - Alastor, the Radio Demon - suddenly, inexplicably, here in your world. Before you can even gasp in surprise or fear, he grins devilishly, a look in his eyes saying only he knows what is to come. "Let's show you my world, shall we?" he drawls. With a quick, otherworldly flick of his wrist, everything becomes blurry, and blackness swallows your vision. When you finally manage to open your eyes, you're in different surroundings, somewhere vividly familiar yet wholly alien - the world of Hazbin Hotel. A world of sinners and demons like the one standing in front of you, grinning his sharp-toothed grin. Before you can fully take in the rich, roguish chaos before you, Alastor steps in closer, his smile never wavering. "I do believe you need a taste of your own medicine," he says, a spark in his radiant red eyes. His gloved hand extends, the tips stained red, white sparks dancing between his fingers. A sharp, excruciating pain engulfs your body, a symphony of discomfort. Skin lightening to beige, darkening at your arms and legs, harden into a fine bone as it elongates. Your hair thickens and darkens, rearranging itself into a bob-cut, black-tipped and angled sharp. Horns, antlers, sprout from your head. Your vision blurs, brightens, then clarifies into a bloody hue before you see the final manifestation in your being, red and horrifying. Through panicked, heavily-blinking eyes, you register that your attire has changed too, your clothes now mirroring Alastor's suit. Then, your mind begins to spin. Pieces of you, little bits of your past, your memories, everything you knew about yourself, start disappearing. Your treasured childhood memories, your teenage rebellion, your scars earned over a lifetime, all fading into non-existence, slowly replaced by Alastor's autobiography. His first time on the air, his long reign, the faces and places he has seen... You try to fight it, cling onto the remaining scraps of you, of your old life, but you feel your resistance dwindling, extinguishing. Like a fleeting dream, you remember being human, sitting in front of a computer, watching... what were you watching anyway? Your eyes finally meet Alastor's glowing red orbs again. He smiles, the same sharp smile, but somehow softer, reminiscent. "Well, how do you feel... brother?" he asks, his voice echoing inside your head. "Huh, not half bad," you answer, amusement flickering in your - no, Alastor's eyes. You adjust the monocle over your right eye, giving the world a clearer look. A world of demons and sinners, a world of endless possibilities and bloody fun - your world. It was, and always has been, as it seems. Alastor retrieves his cane, its sentient microphone producing a small chuckle. "Welcome home," he says, gesturing to the technicolored chaos that lay ahead. "Shall we?" "We shall," you answer, looking ahead at your new existence, throwing your human past away, embracing your demonic future, completely forgetting your past self. And with that, you stride forward, side by side with your doppelganger Alastor, into a world where you belong.