Vox's Famous Meat Pies

Starring Alastor the Radio Demon and Hattie Mahin

Hattie Mahin smirked from the shadows as Vox's head was ripped clean from his shoulders by Valentino. The crowd erupted — cheers, screams, static crackling in the air — everyone too drunk on chaos and survival to notice what she did next.

While they celebrated, Hattie slipped forward, grabbed Vox's sparking, headless body by the ankles, and dragged it down a narrow alley. The alley ended at a scuffed back door with a hand-painted sign: The Capricorn — Hattie's Restaurant.

She kicked the door shut behind her and locked it.

Inside, the kitchen was warm and humming. She stripped the suit from the twitching body and hauled it into a deep steel wash tub. Water sloshed and steamed as she scrubbed it clean, neck to toes, until the static finally stopped sputtering.

Then she heaved it into the industrial meat grinder in the corner. The machine groaned, whirred, and spat out a fine, strange grind — it caught the light with a faint metallic sheen, like wires ground to dust.

Hattie pinched off a small piece, pressed it into a patty, and seared it hot with salt, pepper, smoke, and rosemary. The smell filled the kitchen — rich, savory, almost familiar. Not much different from a good hamburger, really.

She folded the rest into buttery pastry crusts, crimped the edges, brushed them with egg wash, and baked them until they were golden and bubbling. She sold every single pie that afternoon — all except one.

That last one she boxed up, still warm, and brought to Alastor.

"I'm sorry, darling, but why on earth would I try your meat pie?" Alastor said, his smile stretching too wide, eyes glinting with that playful, crackling chuckle.

Hattie leaned in close, fighting the laugh bubbling in her throat. "Well, this is the last one. And it contains Vox's carcass."

Alastor's grin sharpened into something truly wicked and delighted.

"Oh? Well, in that case... I think I will try it."

He took the pie daintily between his claws and savored it slowly, bite by bite, as the sound of his radio static hummed with satisfaction. Outside, Valentino and Velvette tore through town, frantically searching every street and sewer for Vox's missing body.

Everyone who'd bought a pie came back begging for seconds, eyes a little too bright, mouths watering for a taste they couldn't name. But there were no more. They would crave that mystery meat pie forever, never knowing why.

Alastor would think back to it for weeks afterward, chuckling to himself in the quiet of the night. Only two people in all of Hell knew the real secret ingredient.

As for Vox? His head eventually found its way to the Hazbin Hotel, where Baxter repurposed him as a very unwilling monitor for his science experiments — and, occasionally, as a second player for Xbox.

The End.