Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Alastor bursts into the hotel’s lobby and demands to know Niffty’s location, the demons currently lounging there – Angel Dust, Charlie, and a hungover Husker – are hesitant to answer. The Radio Demon always seems in a state of mania, but at that moment, they can see the lines of frequency bouncing in his eyes and dark blood dripping down his chin. His shadows surge forth, throwing open cabinets and doors looking for the tiny maid. Even Alastor’s trademark smile seems more feral than usual.

       “Well,” he presses once more. When they don’t answer, he sighs and waves a hand. Niffty appears in a puff of smoke and flames holding a ball peen hammer in one hand and a struggling rat in the other. She drops the rat, and it runs for the front door which Alastor hadn’t closed.

       “Niffty!” Alastor crows, smile widening. “So very good to see you. I know you must be very busy, and I hate to pull you away from your work. I know how much you enjoy fulfilling your duties. Unfortunately, I have need of your meticulous little hands and keen eye! Come with me.” Niffty doesn’t get a chance to respond before Alastor lifts her up. He says nothing more as he turns to leave, a confused Niffty tucked under his arm like a stuffed animal.

       “The fuck was that about?” Husk grumbles. Out of all of them, he’s used to the Radio Demon’s idiosyncrasies having known him the longest, but even he didn’t know what to make of…whatever the hell that was just now.

       Charlie looks at the door (which Alastor still hadn’t closed) with concern. “I hope everything’s all right,” she murmurs.

       “Meh,” Husk rolls over onto his side. “I’m sure it’s nothing Alastor can’t handle. And even if he can’t, that ain’t our business.”

       Charlie looks at the winged cat, distraught at the notion of one of her friends (maybe?) needing help (possibly?) and not doing anything about it. “But!”

       “Princess, give it a rest.”

       Angel stretches his long limbs and yawns. “Have to agree with Husky,” he says. “If Smiles needs ya, he would have asked for ya. The only person he asked for was Small and Mighty.”

       Charlie still looks uncertain, but she lets the subject drop until Vaggie walks into the room, her head bent over a clipboard. “Vaggie, something’s wrong with Alastor!”

       Vaggie looks up, shocked by her girlfriend’s outburst. “Hun, slow down. What’s going on?”

       “Nothing’s going on,” Husker pipes up from the couch. “Al came in, grabbed Niffty, and left. That’s all.”

       Vaggie narrows her eye at the door. She walks to it, peering outside before closing it with a click. “Charlie, Alastor’s an Overlord. Even if he’s in trouble, he’s powerful enough to handle it.” She walks over to her upset lover and takes hold of her face. Vaggie presses her forehead against Charlie’s and hums a bit until the tension seeps from the princess’s body.

       “Hey,” Angel Dust shouts. “How come you two are allowed to do the PDA thing, but I’m not?”

       Vaggie whirls, eye flashing. “Because,” she growls, “Your idea of PDA is giving Husker a lap dance and shoving your tongue down his throat!”

       Angel Dust rolls his eyes. “One time! One time I did that,” he says and then adds, “And it was for a special occasion!”

       Vaggie looks visibly annoyed. “Please tell me your ‘special’ occasion wasn’t the incident where you leveled a street fighting Sir Pentious. You have any idea what a PR nightmare that was?! You decimated the only good curry place on that block!”

       Angel Dust looks forlorn as he remembers. When he’d discovered Daal Up That Spice’s sign among the rubble, the spider demon had shed a tear. “Of course, I don’t mean that! I’m talking about the anniversary of when Husky took me out on our first date!”

       “Aww,” Charlie coos. “That’s so romantic!”

       “Charlie, we walked in on Angel almost giving Husker head.”

       “Bitch, I told you I dropped something! I was just kneeling to retrieve it!” Angel readjusts his chest fluff. “Not my fault you jumped to conclusions!”

Vaggie bristles and takes a step forward, finger pointing accusingly. “Oh, I was just jumping to conclusions? So, I didn’t hear you say, ‘I can’t wait to suck you dry, Pretty Kitty’?”

Thankfully, Angel is spared needing to answer because the front door flies open. The sound of it smacking against the wall startles Husker awake and he scrambles over the couch, and braces for an attack.

Alastor strides in and greets them. “Good evening, everyone,” he says. “I apologize for my rudeness earlier, but time was of the essence.”

They don’t reply. Not right away. They’re all too busy staring slack-jawed at what Alastor’s carrying.

Vaggie is the one who snaps out of it first. “Alastor, what the hell is that?” she gestures with both hands to what he’s holding.

Alastor arches an eyebrow. He looks from Vaggie to the bundle in his arms then back to Vaggie. “Why this is Vox, my dear. Surely, you’ve heard of him. His products are literally everywhere!”

Angel Dust looks like he doesn’t know whether to stay or bolt from the room. How does one react when Alastor the freaking Radio Demon walks in carrying his unmoving rival (and Valentino’s fucking boyfriend) in his arms? “Is he dead,” Angel squawks. He begins inching toward the stairs. If he’s got to bolt to spare himself from Valentino’s wrath, he’ll need to grab Fat Nuggets and pack a bag for himself and Husker because what kind of piece of shit would he be if he left his boyfriend to deal with the nuclear fallout of this fuckery and—

Angel feels a clawed hand move to rest gently on the small of his back. As if he somehow senses his lover’s inner meltdown, Husk came to soothe him. Angel Dust takes a deep breath and gives the cat a nod and a shaky smile.

Alastor chuckles. “No, he’s not dead. Merely unconscious. Although, I suppose that his current condition needs remedying or it could prove fatal.”

Vox’s “current condition” as Alastor put it, was that the screen of his face was smashed to shit, and he was currently leaking electric blue blood down his front. They could see horrible wounds bleeding through the rips in his clothing.

“Alastor,” Charlie says in quiet horror. “Did you do this?”

Alastor blinks. He laughs. “No, but I suppose I could see why’d you think that. No, no. I’m afraid this isn’t my handiwork.” He pauses and looks down at Vox. For a moment, his smile grows tighter, and they can hear the sound of static filling the air as his eyes rove over the Overlord’s body. His gaze lingers unblinkingly on Vox’s shattered face and the screeching static’s wails grow so loud that the others cover their ears.

Niffty bounces into the room holding a box of glass shards. Alastor blinks and the godawful noise ceases. “Ah, Niffty! Did you get them all?” When she nods, Alastor beams. “Splendid,” he says. He begins to walk toward the stairs, ignoring the others and their attempts to get him to provide and explanation. “I’m afraid I must take my leave. Poor Vox needs to be put to bed. He won’t get any better if he doesn’t get plenty of rest. Niffty, if you’d be a dear and follow me.”

They watch as Alastor climbs the stairs with Niffty springing after him. When he’s out of sight (and hopefully out of earshot) Angel Dust let’s out a wail. “The fuck?” he drags his uppers hands down his face. “The fuck?” He says again and points in the direction of where they’d seen Alastor go. “I—He—The fuck?!” Angel collapses in a chair and covers his face with his hands.

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for this,” Charlie begins.

“Like what,” Angel asks, voice shrill. “Val is going to burn this entire place to the goddamned ground with us inside!”

Charlie opens her mouth to respond but pauses. She looks over at Husker who has by then settled back into the couch. “Husk,” Charlie sings. She slides over to him and kneels so she’s by his ear. “You know what would be great?”

The cat demon rolls over on his side and tries to ignore her.

Charlie pokes him in the back. “If you could go upstairs—”

“No,” Husk says and swats at her.

“—and check on Alastor and his, um, guest!’

“It ain’t our business,” Husk growls. He sits up. Husk squints at Charlie. She’s giving him the sad puppy eyes. He hates the sad puppy eyes. He sighs, “You’re not going to leave me alone until I do it, are ya?” When Charlie gives him her brightest smile, he sighs again. “Fine. I’ll go see what the fuck he’s up to, but you owe me!”

Husker curses under his breath as he scales the stairs. Angel follows him part way, breaking away when they approach his door. He’s never seen the spider demon so shaken up and knows his lover is about to make a nest of blankets and spend the rest of the day hiding away. Anything dealing with that rat Valentino always puts Angel on edge. Husk would bet his left wing that Angel is already nestled in a bundle of blankets and cuddling Fat Nuggets to calm his nerves.

       I’ll bring him a pint of ice cream and a stiff drink later, Husk promises. He rounds the corner and heads to a door that leads to yet another set of stairs. Alastor’s room is in a tower that he magicked to attach itself to the rest of the hotel. Husk climbs the winding staircase, pausing for a minute when he’s halfway to catch his breath. As he gets closer to the top, Husker can hear soft swing music. Alastor’s door is slightly ajar and Husk peeks inside. From his current angle, he can’t see Alastor, Niffty, or their new friend. With a beleaguered sigh, Husk pushes the door open and enters the room.

       Not many can say they’ve been inside Alastor’s room. Well, room isn’t the right word. It’s more of a penthouse. A penthouse with a radio studio attached because even though he has his studio across town, the Radio Demon wanted one closer because in his words: “Inspiration strikes at all hours of the night!” And since it’s created by his magic, it didn’t cost Charlie anything so they couldn’t complain about it. For the most part it looks normal enough. Polished hardwood floors, red wallpaper, a hanging chandelier of gold and crystal. A full kitchen with a little breakfast nook. Real fancy.

       But.

       Husk knows that’s just window dressing. He knows that if you far enough into the apartment, Alastor’s got doors that lead to other places. Places that shouldn’t exist, not in this space. One time, Husk made the mistake of opening one of those doors and found himself face to face with a bayou. The door led to a pier with a rowboat tied to it and the cat demon could see a rickety house on stilts. The windows of the house were lit with unnerving yellow lights that made the cat demon feel like the building was studying him back.  Husk had closed that door and never gone through it again.

       Alastor’s bedroom is strangely spartan. He has a bed, a desk, hanging shelves, two standing lamps by his desk and by a highbacked armchair. Alastor currently sits in the chair, watching intently as Niffty carefully inserts broken shards of glass into Vox’s screen like the world’s worst jigsaw. Husker can’t help but watch in fascination as the cracks seal themselves with each shard that’s replaced.

       “Ah, Husker!” Alastor says after finally noticing the cat demon’s presence. “To what do I owe this unexpected and unwanted visit?”

       Husk snorts. “I came here for an explanation, is all.” He gestures at Vox. Alastor has relinquished his bed to the other Overlord and Vox sits propped up against the headboard as Niffty works. Vox sags forward looking for all the world like a puppet with severed strings. His jacket lies on the floor next to his shoes and his what remains of his vest and shirt are soaked through. Niffty hums along with the melody of the music playing from the phonograph on Alastor’s desk.

       “Husker.”

       The cat demon tears his eyes away from the injured Overlord and gives his full attention to Alastor. “I’m just saying,” Husk continues, “It’s weird that you’re going through all this trouble to fix him. I just don’t get it. Why bother?”

       Alastor turns his gaze to Vox and doesn’t answer. His screen looks a thousand times better than before. Husk sees the Radio Demon’s hands gripping the armrests of his chair. He sees the claws digging into the upholstery.

Husk squints at him. His jaw drops. “Holy shit,” the cat demon lowers himself to the floor. “You didn’t do this.”

Alastor lets out a huff. “As I said,” he mutters.

“And you’re pissed that it happened.”

Alastor releases his death grip on the chair. “He’s my rival. If he’s going to die by anyone’s hand it should be mine.” There’s a rage burning in his eyes now. “If he’s to die, then it should be in a glorious battle.” With each word, static fills the air and the overhead lights flicker.

Husk nods. “You have any idea who did it,” he asks.

Alastor pauses. “I didn’t at first, but thanks to our darling Niffty and her incorrigible social medias habit—”

“I’ve told you a thousand times. You can just say ‘social media.’ No ‘s’.”

“I have a suspicion of who is to blame for this distasteful offense.” Alastor continues as if Husk hadn’t spoken. The Radio Demon leans back into his seat. “But that’s for later, I’m afraid. Niffty, how goes the repair?”

“Almost done,” Niffty says. She places the last piece into Vox’s screen. “Aaaaand finished! Ta-da!” She waves her hands in a grand flourish. “All better!”

But he isn’t.

Vox’s screen is indeed fixed, but it remains black, and the demon sits motionless. Alastor considers him. He claps his hands. “What Vox needs is rest! Yes, that’s it.” He snaps his fingers, and his shadow peels off from the wall. “Fetch me the first-aid kit,” he orders it. “Niffty, my dear. Would you mind taking care of his clothes?”

Niffty lets out a squeal of joy and begins unbuckling Vox’s pants.

“No! No! No!” Alastor snaps his fingers again and another shadow picks up Niffty by the collar and hauls her away. “His slacks are fine, Niffty. I meant his shirt, vest, and jacket. They’re in a desperate need of laundering.”

“Oh,” Niffty says with a sheepish smile. “Right. That makes more sense. Although,” she leans forward and narrows her eye. “If I’m being honest, I think the shirt’s a goner. No saving it. I can check to see what we got in Lost and Found.”

Alastor looks at her in horror. He’s seen what detritus remains in the Lost and Found. There’s no way in Hell, any rival of his would be caught alive or dead in some demon’s forgotten Cumfest 2019 t-shirt. “Absolutely not!”

“Well, maybe Angel Dust has something he can borrow?”

Alastor snorts. Husk gives the Radio Demon a warning hiss.

“We’ll cross that bridge later,” Alastor says with a wave of his hand. His shadow reappears holding a first aid kit and bottle of antiseptic.

Niffty strips Vox of his tattered shirt and vest. She carries both items along with the jacket high above her head as she skitters past. “I’ll get these cleaned,” she promises.

“Excellent,” Alastor smiles. “Husk, why don’t you go spend time with Angel? I sensed he was upset by my decision to bring Vox here.”

“No shit,” Husk grumbles. He turns on his heels and prepares to leave, but he stops. “Look, Al. I don’t get why you do half the stuff you do, but if you need any help then you know where to find me.”

Alastor grins. “While I appreciate the sentiment, Husk I’m afraid that it’s wasted. As my thrall, you’re required to provide me with assistance, whether you want to or not.”

Husk’s ears flatten against his head, and he bares his teeth. “Fuck you, Al.” he throws open the door and storms off.

Alastor shrugs and closes his door. He’s left alone with Vox. He walks over to the bed so he can get a better look at the other Overlord.

He comes to a dead stop when he sees the true extent of the damage.

There’s a gunshot wound on Vox’s shoulder. Multiple lacerations and gashes cover his torso and Alastor can see bruises too.

Alastor’s vision bleeds red. He can feel his teeth and claws extending as his rage overtakes him. His head feels heavy as his antlers begin to grow and branch.

Alastor wants to maim. He wants to kill.

No. There will be time for that later.

Right now, Vox needs him.

He takes a deep breath and delivers orders to his shadows. They flit about gathering the tools that he needs. While they do, Alastor removes his coat and folds it neatly over the back of his chair. He rolls up his sleeves and removes his gloves. One by one his shadows return with the items he requested: a basin of water and wash cloths. The antiseptic is all well and good, but he needs to clean away the excess blood.

Alastor takes a seat as best he can near Vox, suddenly very glad that he didn’t go with his initial idea to push the bed against the wall. Vox doesn’t stir even as the mattress sinks with Alastor’s added weight. The shadow holding the basin glides forward, careful not to spill any water. Alastor takes one of the cloths and dips it into the water.

Not too hot. Good. His shadows have a difficult time gauging temperature. It’s part of the reason he no longer used them to cook – that and their lack of taste buds.

At the first touch of the cloth against one of his wounds, Alastor feels Vox flinch. It’s the most responsive he’s been since this ordeal started and it gives the Radio Demon hope. Alastor utters a gentle apology and continues. The record eventually ends so Alastor works in silence. Too soon that silence becomes unbearable, and Alastor begins chattering to fill it. His choice of topics all over the place. He shares the gossip he’s heard from Niffty and Angel; he brings up the weather once or twice; he even talks about some of his favorite places to go out for midday strolls. The rose gardens before you get to the Cannibal Colony look especially lovely this time of year.

Through the entirety of it, Vox remains still and silent. When the blood is washed away, Alastor begins to apply antiseptic. He’s not sure if he’s doing this right. To be honest, he’s much more used to inflicting wounds than he is to heal them, but the deer demon feels an uncharacteristic need to do this. He doesn’t know why, but he does.

Well, he knows why.

He needs to see. Needs to see what was done to Vox. Needs to see and file it away so that it will be there in his mind’s eye when he exacts retribution against the culprit.

Before he can lose himself in his anger once more, Alastor’s sensitive ears pick up a sound. “Excuse me, Vox,” he says. “You appear to be, hmm, vibrating?”

The source of the noise seems to originate from one of Vox’s pants pockets. Alastor assumes it must be one of those cellular telephone devices that everyone seems to have nowadays. The vibrating continues and Alastor’s brows knit. He dries his hand and begins to reach for Vox’s pocket.

He stops. Tries again. Stops again.

“You do it,” he orders his shadow doppelganger. Is it his imagination or did the shadow’s grin grow wider? “I didn’t summon you for sass!” Alastor growls.

His shadow chitters with amusement and reaches into Vox’s pocket and pulls out the device. Alastor takes it and gives it the once over.

Here’s a little secret that Alastor is loathed to share:

Alastor is actually fully aware of how modern technology works.

He just prefers to give an air of ignorance, so people don’t bother him to do things he doesn’t want to do. Plus, in his opinion technology from before the 1930s was just superior. What was wrong with candlestick phones? They were just as efficient as these little squares. And don’t even get him started on computers! Vaggie’s constant harping that he could handle his administrative duties better if he digitized his paperwork made no sense. Alastor had a perfectly good file cabinet in his office, but when he told the moth demon that you’d think by the look of horror on her face he'd told her he was writing on cave walls.

That was one of the reasons he pretended to be unable to decipher technology. The second?

The employees of the Happy Hotel love leaving their phones around him because they think he can’t figure out how to work them. Some of them don’t even bother with password protection. Vaggie does, but one strategically placed shadowy spy later and Alastor knew her passcode was ‘mi princessa’ all lowercase and no spaces. Charlie’s is Vaggie’s death day. Angel doesn’t have one, but he has several burner phones for emergencies. Husker doesn’t password protect his phone because he’s often too drunk to remember one. Niffty always keeps her phone on her person because she’s the only one who knows Alastor’s dirty secret (but she won’t ruin his fun).

So, he isn’t a complete luddite.

Alastor’s eyebrow arches as he looks at Vox’s phone. He would have expected the Media Lord to have a password on his phone, but lo and behold.

He does have a lovely picture of a demon shark as his wallpaper.

He also has missed calls and messages from a “Tino” and a few from Velvet.

Alastor looks at Vox who hasn’t moved. The phone vibrates in Alastor’s hand.

Another message from Tino.

“Well, this simply won’t do,” Alastor says a bit louder than necessary. “How can we guarantee a speedy recovery if you’re constantly being bombarded by these textual messages—” he purposely uses the wrong word to sell the act. “—on this mobile telephone? No sir, I’m afraid the only feasible choice is to confiscate this to ensure that you’re able to get some proper rest. No distractions. Don’t worry. I’ll put it in a safe location, away from prying eyes.” Except for mine, he adds mentally.

Alastor slides the phone into his coat pocket and puts the dirtied washcloths in his hamper for Niffty to launder later. The wash basin had to be emptied and refilled twice when he cleaned Vox and he makes a note to wash it later. Usually, the scent and sight of blood whet his appetite. In this circumstance, all Alastor could taste was the sour sting of bile. “Back in a moment!” He walks from the room and closes the door behind him. In his sitting parlor, Alastor investigates the missed messages.

Tino *3:45p*: Wheree u at?

Tino *3:46*: Why aren’t you picking up the phone

Tino *3:51*: Are stillfucking sulking

Tino *3:51*: *you still fucking

Tino *4:00p *: Bby I’m sorry. You just make me so angry.

Tino *4:05*: Stop fuckin ignoring me

Tino *4:06*: Vine

Tino *4:06*: *Fine

Tino *4:07*: be that way

Tino *5:27p*: just so you fucking know you MAKE me hurt you. You knew I was pissed and you kept pushing my buttons. Now you’re playing the fucking vic—

Alastor’s microphone shrieks with feedback. With shaking hands, he walks over to a wall safe hidden behind a still life painting of a bloated carcass in bayou water and puts Vox’s phone inside.

Alastor goes back into his bedroom. He silently and carefully lowers Vox under the covers. He puts a pillow under his head and pulls the quilt over him. Alastor puts on a new record, a compilation of soothing strings that he listens to on those nights when sleep evades him. He assigns two shadows to act as sentinels.

When all the ducks are in a row, Alastor bids Vox a soft goodnight, grabs his coat from the chair, and dims the lights. He exits the room, leaving the other Overlord to get some much-needed rest.

As soon as he’s out of the room, Alastor lets himself succumb to the anger he’s feeling. His microphone pops with static and shrieks. Already he can feel the telltale ache of his antlers growing. Alastor heads for his front door, pausing for just a moment to grab one more item before heading out.

As he walks, Alastor’s head fills with the white noise of static. He’s on autopilot as he descends the stairs, making his way to the bar where Husker and Niffty both sit. Husk wipes down glasses and Niffty writes in her notebook. They look up when they see him approach, Niffty raises a hand to greet him, but stops when he gets closer.

       “I’m going for a walk,” Alastor announces before either of them can say anything. “Niffty, if you could be a dear and check on Vox in a bit. I think he’s sleeping, but it’s hard to tell in his current state.”

       Husk and Niffty exchange a look. Husk clears his throat. “Are you going for a walk or one of your walks?”

       Alastor pulls back his coat and reveals the knife hidden beneath.

       Husk sighs, then nods. “I’ll make sure the Princess and her better half are outta the building when you come back. In case you need to transport something.” It wouldn’t do for Charlie to learn of her first (and thus far only) sponsor’s ongoing hobby.

       “Good man,” Alastor gives the cat demon a nod before leaving the hotel.

       Usually when he hunted, Alastor chose a victim at random. Luckily for him, he knew just who should provide him an outlet for his current frustration.

       When he had come across Vox, the tv headed Overlord hadn’t been alone.

       He had been brutalized, busted, and bloodied but not alone.

       Some Sinner demon, a skinny mucus covered toad of a demon, had been standing over him. This pathetic little fool had been psyching himself up, trying to summon the courage to snuff out the defenseless Vox. It would do wonders for his status once he paraded around Hell with the decapitated head of the fallen Overlord. Didn’t matter that he wasn’t the one who had softened Vox up, as long as he took credit for the final blow.

       The little fool had been so distracted by his fantasies that he hadn’t heard Alastor approach, not until the deer demon let out a vicious snarl. The Sinner demon had whipped around, realized who stood there, and promptly bolted. As he wasn’t covered in any of Vox’s blood, Alastor had let him go.

       That was then and this was now.

       It just wouldn’t do to let this filth go about unharmed. No, no, no. Something must be done. This fool thought he could kill an Overlord.

       Alastor’s joints elongate as he walks. He scents the air.

       He thought—

       He thought he could kill Vox. The little fool.

       Alastor can smell him. He’s near. He’s so very near.

       He would have killed Vox, if Alastor hadn’t been there and the very idea enrages the demon further. That someone as strong as Vox would have been killed by some lesser Sinner demon who lucked into being in the right place at the right time. Who just so happened to come across an Overlord incapable of defending himself.

       Why, the very thought of it makes Alastor want to disembowel something.

       The sounds of static and bouncing frequencies fill the air as Alastor closes in on his prey. The world around him disappears. He only has eyes for the unfortunate soul who didn’t have the good sense to be elsewhere.

       The demon in question is looking at something on his phone when Alastor’s hand envelopes his face. He tries to scream, but he can’t as Alastor drags him into an unoccupied alley.

       It only seems appropriate…

       When he returns to the hotel, Alastor taps his knuckles against the front door. He carries a particularly heavy burden in a burlap sack and even though it hasn’t awoken yet, it’s only a matter of time. Alastor wants to be upstairs in his nice, sound-proof work area before that happens.

       Husk opens the door. “You should really look into getting a phone,” the cat demon tells him. “Be easier to coordinate these things.”

       Alastor gives him a guileless smile. “Oh, Husker! You know I don’t have the slightest idea how to work one of those accursed doohickeys,” he says like a lying liar, “I’d be coming to you at all hours, needing assistance. Could you imagine?” Alastor suppresses a chuckle as Husk’s eyes glaze over in horror as he imagines such a scenario. “And where are dear Charlotte and Vagatha at this moment?”

       Husk shakes himself. “Gone,” he says. “Angel wanted to take Nuggets for a walk in the park. He got them to tag along.”

      “Splendid!” Alastor pushes Husk out of the way and makes his way for the stairs. He can feel the slight stirring from his victim. Oh, that wouldn’t do. Alastor was sure he’d dashed the demon’s head against the bricks hard enough to ensure he’d be out for at least another hour. Oh well. “How is Vox,” he asks Niffty. “Any changes?”

       She shakes her head. “Honestly, it’s hard to tell. Not with his face all dark like that.”

       Alastor hums in agreement before bidding them both a good evening and heading upstairs. His quarry grows restless, and he needs to get it strapped to a table.

       Alastor throws open the door to his bedroom, then mentally curses. Luckily, his doppelganger swoops forward and keeps the offending object from banging against the wall. The Radio Demon gives his shadow a quick nod of thanks before heading to the door that Husk makes a point to avoid. He throws his prey into his skiff and climbs inside. He rows with practiced ease until he reaches the stilt house. The light from the windows reflect off his monocle and gives him a warm feeling on the inside.

Like coming home, he muses.

He ties the boat, then hefts the body of his victim onto the dock. After that it’s a matter of getting him up the stairs and inside. Simple enough. The front door opens for Alastor. The inside of the house changes based on Alastor’s need. At that moment, Alastor needs his workroom. A metal table stands in the middle of the room under a swinging bulb. There are shelves and smaller work benches covered in sharp instruments. There’s a plastic tarp under the table like an area rug. Alastor straps the unlucky demon to the table.

       By now, the demon is much more awake. He looks around, blearily until he’s able to focus his eyes on Alastor’s grinning visage. “Holy shit! I know you.”

       “Yes,” Alastor purrs. “Most do. Allow me to welcome you to a very special area within the Hazbin Hotel. Not many people know about it, and I’d like to keep it that way. Mums the word. So, no screaming.”

       His prey immediately begins to wail which Alastor knew he would. They always scream when he tells them not to. It’s very rude.

       A laugh track plays from Alastor’s microphone as he leans over the trapped demon. “Sorry, my friend. I was just having a bit of fun. I took great care to have this particular room soundproofed.” His eyes glow under the dim light. “I’m afraid no help is coming. So sad.” His microphone plays violin music.

       Tears well up in the other demon’s eyes. “What did I ever do to you,” he blubbers. “I ain’t ever wronged the Radio Demon.”

       The violin music cuts abruptly, and Alastor’s eyes shift to dials. “I found you standing over Vox,” he hisses. Alastor uses a claw to lift the demon’s chin so he can look him in the eyes. “Were you going to kill him?”

       The other’s eyes shift left to right. It’s obvious he’s trying to figure out what answer would please Alastor and save his life.

       He chooses wrong…

       “Y-yeah,” the demon stammers. He gives Alastor a shaky grin. “I was going to off old TV Head. You got any idea what that would’ve done for my cred? What’s it to you? I thought you two hated each other’s guts. I was doing you a favor.”

       Alastor’s shadows surge into the room, blocking what little light came from the single bulb overhead. The radio screeching must be unbearable, if the other demon’s pained screams are anything to go by. Alastor can’t find it in himself to care.

       “Vox is too good to be killed by the likes of you,” Alastor sneers. “A worthless little bottom feeder who relies on sheer luck. A craven opportunist who didn’t even put in the work, just stumbled on the injured party and sought to steal the kill.”

       The demon starts to blubber. “Why are you angry? You fucking hate him.”

       Alastor stops.

       Why is he so angry?

       This piece of stool is right. He and Vox are enemies. Hated adversaries of the worst kind. By all rights, it should delight him at Vox suffering such a humiliating death at the hands of a lesser demon.

       But.

       Alastor can still remember the cold dread that washed over him when he came upon Vox’s fallen form. He’d been drawn by the familiar scent of blood and his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He’d never seen Vox look so broken and the Radio Demon had moved almost on instinct. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t let the other Overlord die. Not in some back alley.

       Alastor narrows his eyes. He goes over to another table covered with supplies and picks up a thick cloth and a rolled leather bundle. He returns to the side of his quarry and unceremoniously shoves the cloth into the demon’s mouth. “That’s enough from you,” he says. “Usually, I wouldn’t bother as no one can literally hear you, but I’m growing annoyed from your constant jawing. Now,” Alastor removes his coat and hands it to a nearby shadow. The shadow moves to place the coat on a wall hook. He unrolls the bundle revealing the tools he’d be using that even. Alastor selects a blade and caresses it as he smiles down at the demon. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

       Two and a half hours later, Alastor exits the room with his arms full of wrapped, freshly butchered meat and a contented smile gracing his face. He takes the meat over to the ice box in kitchen and shoves his new supplies inside. He enjoys having his meals with the others downstairs, but sometimes Alastor liked to have his private meals to satiate his particular cravings. Once the meat is safely housed in the ice box, Alastor returns to his workroom. He summons the void and has his shadows toss the refuse into the hole. He doesn’t know where the gore and intestines will end up and frankly, he doesn’t care.

       Humming to himself, Alastor washes up in the bathroom and strips off his bloodied clothes. He leaves them in the hamper for Niffty and slips on a dapper silk robe and a pair of lounging slippers. Alastor opens the door to his bedroom and peers inside.

       The music player has stopped once again, but it appears that Vox is no worse for wear. In fact, the Overlord has turned to face the wall, his body curled, and the blankets pulled tightly around him. It’s not much, but the change of position feels like a victory to Alastor.

       Unfortunately, the Radio Demon becomes aware of a new issue.

       Where is he to sleep?

       With a self-deprecating chuckle, he opens a drawer and pulls out a blanket. Looks like it’s the couch, he thinks with a grimace. He certainly wasn’t going to kick the healing Vox out of the bed. If Angel were here, the lanky spider demon would grin and suggest that the bed was big enough for the both of them, then Alastor would have his shadows throw him out a window, and then Husker would get all huffy and accuse Alastor of trying to murder his lover.

       Honestly, the couch is the better option.

       Still, there’s a part of him that wonders if this is all some sort of elaborate scheme on Vox’s part. Alastor knows that makes no sense (what could he gain from being left in such a sorry state), but he can’t help being paranoid. He assigns his doppelganger to stand watch over Vox and to act as his eyes.

       Alastor curls up on the couch and finds it surprisingly easy to drift off.

       The next morning, he immediately seeks out his shadow. Vox still sleeps with his face toward the wall, body still curled into a tight ball. Alastor’s shadow comes when summoned and follows him back to the living room, where Alastor dips his hand into the shadow’s inky chest. His eyes glow with faint blue energy as he replays what his shadow experienced and saw.

       Sometime during the night, Vox lurches up in the bed. He flails blindly for a moment as if fighting someone off, chest heaving from exertion until his wounds remind him of his condition. He wraps his arms around himself and sits there for a moment, head bowed and trembling. His screen still hasn’t powered on. Vox sits for a moment longer before he starts squirming, then he slides off the bed. He feels around blindly. When his foot connects with the forgotten washbasin, Vox comes to a stop. He bends and feels the washbasin before standing upright. He stands there for a moment in the low light as if considering something.

       His shoulders sag in a dejected sort of way as he seems to reach a conclusion.

       Vox reaches for his belt.

       Luckily, Alastor’s shadow intervenes. It places a hand on Vox’s arm causing the Overlord to reel backwards in shock. Undeterred, the shadow takes Vox by the hand and tries to coax him to follow. With little options, Vox does so.

       Alastor sees his sleeping form on the couch, slumbering unaware that his shadow is leading his arch-nemesis to the bathroom. He doesn’t know how he slept through it. The shadow leads Vox to the bathroom and gives the demon some privacy. Alastor can hear Vox relieving himself, the toilet flushes, and then he hears the sink being ran. The door reopens and Vox stands there. He offers his hand to the waiting shadow who takes it and leads him back to bed.

       Vox doesn’t move again for the rest of the night.

       Alastor pulls his hand away and blinks. So, it wasn’t some elaborate scheme to get him to drop his guard…

       Alastor goes to the safe and checks Vox’s phone.

       More messages from Valentino. They range from foul-mouthed curses to outright threats.

       There’s a picture sent around three in the morning. It’s of Valentino splayed on a bed. His trademark coat unbuttoned and opened; he wears nothing underneath. One of his hands wraps around his erection and he grins at the camera.

       Wish you were here. Too bad you’re being a fucking baby. Guess I’ll have to find someone else to help me with this.

       The next picture he sends is of two young women looking at the camera as they run their tongues up the length of Valentino’s cock. Valentino sneers and flips off the camera.

       I found some volunteers. Never needed you, fucker. Always remember that.

       Alastor reminds himself that this isn’t his property so it would be rude to smash it against the wall. Instead, he places the phone back into the safe and takes a few cleansing breaths.

       Food. Vox needs food.

Yes. He should go down to the kitchens and see if anyone’s prepared breakfast yet. With a new goal to distract him from his burning hatred of the moth demon pimp, Alastor heads downstairs.

       The kitchen is empty. It’s apparently still too early for any of the other hotel residents to be up and about. Alastor snorts. Well, there was no way he was making breakfast down here. The second those layabouts smelled a sizzling egg; they’d come downstairs and expect him to do the same for them. While he enjoyed making the occasional group meal, he wasn’t about to be suckered into becoming the go-to chef.

       Alastor gathers up a few eggs, a wedge of cheese, a carton of milk, and a loaf of bread.

       He always finds himself humming when he cooks. It’s a nonsense song his mother would sing while she washed collards for Sunday meals. He didn’t remember the words, only the tune.

He thinks that maybe it was about a drunk rabbit being chased by a fox and being too fat to fit down his burrow.

Or maybe it was about a fox too drunk to chase a fat rabbit?

In any case, the tune remains, and Alastor hums it.

He takes two completed breakfasts into his bedroom. Vox still lies in bed. Maybe he’s asleep or maybe he’s not. Niffty was right when she said it was hard to tell.

“Good morning, Vox,” Alastor says as boisterously as possible. “I’ve made breakfast. Most important meal of the day! Although I’d argue that any meal is important if you go long enough without one!” Cue laugh track.

Is it his imagination, or did he see Vox shrink at the sound of his voice?

“Apologies,” Alastor says, “I suppose that’s a bit loud for so early, hm?” He takes a seat at the foot of the bed. He places a plate and near Vox’s knees. “It’s nothing fancy, but no one’s ever complained about my scrambled eggs and toast,” Alastor pauses then grins wider. “Or at least no one who’s ever lived to talk about it!”

There’s no response from Vox even after the laugh track dies away. Alastor eats his breakfast in silence. Maybe the television demon is shy about eating around others? Maybe he’s not hungry? He did have a traumatic day yesterday , Alastor realizes. It wouldn’t surprise me if his appetites suffered. “I’m sure Niffty has finished laundering your clothes. Well, your coat. I’m afraid that the shirt was a lost cause.” Alastor’s smile almost falls as he remembers. “We’ll find you something. Don’t worry. Until then, get some rest and eat. Not to sound like a mother hen, but you need your strength.”

Still Vox doesn’t move. Alastor can see his chest rise and fall with shallow breaths. The Radio Demon finishes the last bits of his meal and leaves the room. He rinses off his dish in the bathroom before turning on the shower. He returns to his bedroom for a fresh suit and shiny shoes. Alastor makes sure that his front door is locked before he hops into the shower.

One shower and newly donned outfit later, Alastor leaves again, but not before he pops in on Vox one last time. “I’m going out. I’ll leave my shadows here in case you need assistance find the bathroom.” Alastor’s smile softens. “Feel better, Vox,” he says quietly and closes the door.

The Radio Demon casts a glare at the safe as he breezes past. He’s a demon on a mission and now it was time to gather his pawns.

Chapter Text

He stops to see Husker first. Alastor taps Shave and a Haircut onto Angel’s door. “Are you decent?” He pauses, remembers what happened last time, and quickly clarifies, “Are you dressed?”

“Yeah.”

With a sigh of relief, the Radio Demon enters the room. Angel Dust sits on his bed, wearing a simple pink bathrobe and filing his nails. Fat Nuggets trots over to sit in front of Alastor, peering up at him expectantly.

Alastor looks around the room.

Husk’s nowhere to be seen.

“And where’s your paramour?”

Angel Dust gives him a languid shrug. “No idea. Wasn’t here when I got up.”

“Really,” Alastor drags out the word to properly emphasize how much he doesn’t believe that. “And you expect me to believe that Husker didn’t spend the night with you?”

Angel flinches. “I didn’t say that,” he says, quickly. Too quickly. “I’m just saying that when I woke up, he wasn’t here. Maybe he went for a jog?”

Alastor tilts his head to one side. “Husker,” he deadpans. “Jogging? Really now, Angel, if you’re going to lie for him, at least make it believable.”

Angel Dust growls and averts his eyes. “I got nothing more to say to you,” Angel snaps. He gives his full attention to his nails and ignores Alastor.

Alastor hums. His eyes fall to Fat Nuggets, who still hasn’t moved. Alastor kneels so he can scratch the pig under his chin. Nuggets oinks appreciatively. “Do you know what I love about your little friend?”

Angel Dust raises his eyes. Alastor can see the worry in those heterochromatic orbs. “What,” the spider demon asks cautiously.

Alastor uses the hand not currently giving the pig chin scritches into his pocket and pulls out two butterscotch hard candies. He unwraps one and holds it out for Nuggets to take. “He’s so obedient and smart! You’ve done an excellent job training him.”

Angel narrows his eyes. Alastor can practically hear the cogs turning in the spider demon’s head. “Uhhhh…thanks?”

“Mm-hmm.” Alastor’s smile widens as Nuggets takes the offered hard candy. The pig eats it quickly and focuses his dark eyes on the remaining candy. “Ah-Ah-Ah,” Alastor waves a finger. “This one isn’t for you. It’s for Husker. Now be a good little pig and take it to him.”

Alastor relishes the look on Angel Dust’s face as his pet gently takes the wrapped candy in his mouth and trots over to the closet. The Radio Demon’s smile threatens to split his face when Fat Nuggets begins scratching furiously at the door. “So smart,” he repeats as he makes his way to the closet. Alastor gives the knob a twist and peers down at the glaring, scowling cat demon currently crouched inside. “Husker, I’m so pleased to see you.” He takes a few steps backward to allow Husk to crawl out.

“Eat a dick, Al!” Husk snarls. He glares at his boyfriend. “Jogging, Angel? Really?”

“Oh, fuck you! You can’t go, ‘Shit, I hear Alastor coming. Cover for me,’ and just expect me to come up with a good excuse on such short notice!”

Husk stares at him. “Apparently not,” he mutters.

Angel Dust flips him off with all four hands.

“Ahem,” Alastor summons his microphone, tapping it on the floor to get their attention. “Apologies for the intrusion, but I’ve come to you both with a wonderful opportunity. Specifically, I’ve come to you, Angel.”

“Me?” Angel Dust says.

“Him?” Husker says and his hackles start to rise. Fat Nuggets drops the hard candy at his foot, waiting for the cat demon to acknowledge it and reward him with words of praise and head pats. Husk’s eye twitches. He sighs and kneels to scratch Nuggets’ ears. It’s not the pig’s fault Alastor tricked him.

“You!” Alastor twirls his microphone, then points it at Angel Dust’s dumbfounded face. “How would you like to be out from under your contractual obligations to Valentino?”

Husk growls and immediately moves to stand before his boyfriend. “Al, I fucking swear…”

“Now, now, Husk. I’m being sincere!” Alastor turns his gaze to Angel. “What if I could find a way to break the bond of that contract. Supersede it, if you will.”

         “You’re saying you want me to sign a contract with you?” Angel worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “Trade one Overlord for another?”

         Alastor tries not to let the annoyance show on his face. To be compared to Valentino—awful. “To put it frankly, yes. You would be under my protection. He couldn’t touch you lest he risk my ire.”

         Husk stretches his wings to block Angel Dust from Alastor’s view. “Fuck no,” he all but snarls. “There’s no way in Hell, I’d ever let you sucker Angel into a bum deal.”

         “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.” Alastor wags a finger. “I’m not trying to ‘sucker’ anyone. I’m trying to help.”

         “Yeah, right,” Husk sneers. “What’s the catch? You don’t help anyone unless it benefits you. So, what’s the hook?”

         Alastor doesn’t answer right away, and Husk emits an irritated snarl. “Al,” the cat demon flexes his claws.

         “Yes, yes,” the Radio Demon waves a hand. “Give me a moment. I’m trying to find a way to word this that doesn’t make me sound insincere.” He takes a breath. “Angel Dust, you and Husker are good for one another.” He holds up a hand to stave off any interruptions. “Let me speak. When I first learned that you two were courting, I laughed myself silly. A drunken, hollowed out, buffoon and a drug-addicted adult film star? I was ready for you both to fail and fail miserably. But,” Alastor’s smile softens. “You surprised me. You care for each other. Angel Dust, you make that old sourpuss happy. When he’s happy he drinks less and when he drinks less, he’s a competent employee.” Alastor looks at Husk. “And Husker, I can’t deny that you’ve influenced Angel as well. He spends less time at Valentino’s den of depravity, only going when he’s forced to. He’s making an attempt to get and remain sober. Now, don’t get me wrong. I still believe that redemption for Sinners is a fruitless and ludicrous idea, but,” Alastor takes another deep breath. He rubs a hand on the back of his neck before saying, “I think that if any Sinners have a chance, it would be the two of you and on the off chance it happens, I hope that you go together. The perfect happy ending to this sad show we call an afterlife.”

         Angel Dust covers his mouth and looks like he’s seconds from crying. Husker just stares wide eyed at the Radio Demon, speechless. “Holy shit, Alastor,” Husk mumbles.

         “Smiles, that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard,” Angel says and fans his eyes.

         Alastor’s cheeks pinken and he makes a show of taking off his monocle and cleaning it. “Yes, well. Even I can spout niceties every now and again.” His eyes flash as he adds, “Not that anyone would ever believe you.”

         “Oh my gosh,” a familiar voice squeals from behind Alastor.

         Alastor whips around and sees both Charlie and Vaggie standing in the doorway. Charlie’s million-watt smile and Vaggie’s dumbfounded look tells the deer demon that they heard the entire thing.

Well, shit.

“Alastor,” Charlie gushes. “I never would have thought that you of all people would do something so kind!”

         “That’s putting it mildly,” Vaggie says. She studies Alastor. “Wait, is this because of Vox?”

         Alastor’s mic shrieks. “I beg your pardon?”

         Vaggie folds her arms. “Niffty told us she follows the Triple V’s on Voxtagram. Says she does it to keep tabs on them in case you need to be warned. She also told me that this isn’t the first time Vox has had his screen cracked. Although it was never this bad…” Vaggie looks Alastor up and down. “Okay, so I believe you. I believe you’re genuinely happy for both Angel and Husk. I also believe that you want to fuck over Valentino and I’m down, but you can’t just steal another Overlord’s contracted souls. No Overlord can.”

         “Oooh!” Charlie bounces on her toes. “Unless!” She extends her hand to Alastor. Alastor tentatively takes it. “Alastor,” Charlie says in a business-like tone. The room begins to glow with crimson light. “As Princess and heir of Hell’s throne, I offer you my royal boon. This boon will grant you an influx of additional strength as well as the power to break the contracts of another Overlord, allowing you to claim a selected soul as your own with no fear of reprisal or retaliation.”

         Alastor’s eyes widen. The ability to break another Overlord’s contract and steal their servants? The very idea of it practically makes him salivate.

         But before he can celebrate his good fortune, Charlie’s other hand moves to hold him in place. Her voice reverberates with raw power, “But,” she growls, “this boon is only activated in service of others. It is only activated as a means of protection not as a way for you to grow your empire. You can only break a contract and claim a Sinner’s soul if you have substantial and credible proof that they need protection and rescuing from the Overlord they serve. Well? Do we have a deal?”

         Alastor fumes. That cherry-cheeked little minx! How dare she offer such a tantalizing prize, then attach on her bullshit terms?!

         Alastor risks a glance at Husker. The cat demon has his arms folded over his chest and a shit-eating grin on his face as he watches all of this unfold.

         Ah. So, this is what it feels like…

         Alastor glares at Charlie. It’s a good, but otherwise useless deal. He’d only be able to use the power to help others, not himself.

Although, he would be able to add the rescued Sinners to his thralldom…

Did he really want to spend the rest of his afterlife playing shepherd to abused Sinners?

Alastor sighs. He needs this boon. He knows he does. “Princess Charlie Morningstar,” he bows his head. “We have a deal.”

Charlie grins. “Then I, Charlie Morningstar, hereby grant you my royal boon as a show of gratitude for all that you've done to sponsor the Happy—”

“Hazbin.”

Charlie blinks. “Uh, what?”

“It’s called the Hazbin Hotel.”

Charlie’s brow creases with confusion. “Um, what? No. No, it’s not? We’re the Happy Hotel.”

Alastor shakes his head. “Nope. I’m afraid we’re the Hazbin Hotel.”

“Sonuvabitch,” Vaggie swears. “You changed our name?! Is that why people have been calling asking if the Hazbin Hotel has vacancies? I thought those were prank calls!”

“You should probably call back and apologize,” Alastor quips. Vaggie looks like she wants to break his neck.

“But the sign,” Charlie moans. “Do you have any idea how much it will cost to get a new sign, and have it installed?”

“Oh, I changed that months ago.”

“You what?” Vaggie darts out of the room and down the hall. A few moments later they can hear her outraged screams and a viciously howled, “Motherfucker!” reaches all the way to Angel Dust’s room.

Alastor smiles. “It’s not my fault that none of you looked up.”

Charlie goes silent, looking as if she was starting to have second thoughts. “Um, well. That’s fine, I guess. I guess I should be happy that people are showing an interest.” She clears her throat. “Shall we continue,” she asks.

Alastor nods.

“Very well. I hereby grant you this royal boon as a show of gratitude and appreciation for your continued sponsorship to the, uh, Hazbin Hotel.” Charlie winces. “May it serve you well in the future.” The glowing ends as the two of them shake hands.

Alastor stares down at his hand. He opens and closes it, flexes his fingers. He doesn’t feel any different. He looks over his shoulder at Angel Dust. “I think we should sit down so we can come up with some fair terms for your future service to me.”

“What?” Husk’s wings flare. “You didn’t do that shit with me.”

“Well, I want to be fair with Angel. Your happiness is tied to his, after all. Besides, if I’m being honest, taking advantage of you was half the fun!”

“You’re a fucking asshole, Al.”

Alastor doesn’t get a chance to respond because Vaggie barrels into the room holding her angelic spear. “Vagatha, you’re back!” He exclaims leaning back to avoid her wild swing.

“I cannot believe you changed both the hotel’s name and the sign without running it by Charlie!” Vaggie snarls. “And Hazbin? Hazbin?!”

“Alliteration, my dear!”

“That’s not the point and you know it! It’s insulting, you shit-eating, shadow spewing, voodoo using, doll-making goatfucker!”

Alastor puts a hand to his cheek and pretends to look scandalized. “Well, it’s too late to change it back. Everyone already knows it by now.” He ignores Vaggie’s outraged growl. “In any case, I need your help Ms. Vagatha.”

“Why should I help you?” Vaggie demands.

Alastor gives her a smug grin and cocks his head. “You’ll help me because Charlie would like for you to and because you know it’s the right thing to do.”

Vaggie scowls, eye darting to Charlie. Her girlfriend gives her a half-smile and tiny nod. Vaggie’s eye twitches. “Fffffine,” she tosses the spear to the side. “What do you need?”

He moves the discussion downstairs both for extra room and because Angel’s room lacked chairs.

Two hours later, Alastor possesses a contract with Angel Dust’s signature. “Niffty,” he calls to the maid. He summons his cane and leans on it. “Would you like to come with us? We’re going somewhere that could use your particular brand of…tidying.”

Niffty’s pupil shrinks, and a sharp-toothed smile stretches across her face. She reaches down the front of her blouse and pulls out a knife. The laws of physics dictate that something of that size shouldn’t have been able to fit down there, but like most things in Hell, laws were merely suggestions. “Oh boy,” she squeaks, “I’m always up for an outing!”

Charlie lets them use her limo to drive to Valentino’s studios. Charlie and Angel Dust remain at the hotel. The former stays because Alastor wants someone to check in on Vox. The latter stays for his own protection.

Husk sulks the entire drive. Alastor glares at him. “I don’t know why you’re in such a mood,” he says. “You offered to assist me earlier.”

Husk hisses at him. “That was before you decided to throw me being your thrall in my face,” he snaps. He folds his arms and stares out the window, yellow and black eyes focused on the passing Pentagram City landscape.

Alastor sighs. He rubs his temples. “Niffty, I’m so glad that you don’t give me as much trouble as some of my servants.”

Niffty looks up from sharpening her knife. “I’m just happy to be of service,” she beams.

Alastor places a hand over his heart. “You are always an absolute delight,” he tells her. Alastor looks at Husk. “Husker, why can’t you be more like Niffty?” Husk doesn’t respond other than flipping him off. Alastor sighs again and shakes his head. He looks to Vaggie who is scrolling down her tablet like her life depends on it. “Everything in order?”

“Just some last minute research,” she mutters. “I don’t want to go in there ill-prepared.” She scrolls furiously and says, “Can’t believe I let you talk me into this!”

“Come now, Vagatha. Don’t tell me you’re frightened.”

“Of facing Valentino, a freaking Overlord on his own turf? Uh, yeah!” Vaggie emits a hysterical laugh. “I’d probably feel better if you’d let me bring my spear.”

Alastor tsks. “Vaggie, we’re going there with diplomacy in mind, not violence. How would it look if you appeared holding a celestial spear?”

“You let Niffty bring a knife!”

The Radio Demon taps his fingers impatiently on his knee. “Well, yes, but that’s Niffty. And as I said we are there with diplomacy in mind. Husk and Niffty are there to keep Valentino’s employees from…interrupting.”

Vaggie grunts and returns her full attention to the tablet. “This would be so much easier if I had some information.”

“What sort of information?” Alastor drums his fingers.

“Like Valentino’s finances,” the moth demon says. “Sorry, it’s just something Angel’s always saying keeps running in my head and…oh.” Vaggie blinks. She taps the screen. “Holy shit.”

“What is it, dear girl? Don’t leave the rest of us in suspense.”

“You’re not going to believe this, but…I just got access to Valentino’s finances.” Vaggie sounds like she can’t believe herself. “Yeah, look.” She turns the tablet around. “I got files of the stuff. Every movie he’s ever made using Angel Dust.”

“That’s good, right?” Niffty asks.

Vaggie hesitates, then nods. “I just don’t know where it came from,” she says in a hushed tone. “One second it wasn’t there and then poof!”

Alastor snatches the tablet from her hands, causing Vaggie to make a noise of protest which he ignores. He flips the device around.

Just as he suspected. Vaggie’s tablet, like much of the technology in Pentagram City and the Pride Ring, has a big V logo on the back. Alastor hands the tablet back to Vaggie who takes and holds it protectively to her chest. “We’ve got a guardian devil listening in.”

That actually makes Husk turn around. “What,” he says.

Alastor points at Vaggie’s tablet. “Vox. He can see and hear through most of your technology. I’d wager he heard Vaggie’s comment and provided her with the items she’d need.” His smile softens. I’m glad he’s feeling better.

Vaggie looks down at her tablet. She grunts and begins going through the files. “That’s creepy,” she mumbles. “Super helpful, but creepy.”

The limo pulls in front of Valentino’s studio. Alastor gives the building a narrowed eyed glare as he exits the vehicle. How easily I could just burn it all , he can’t help but think. No , he decides. Best to do the gentlemanly thing first. And if that doesn’t work…

Then I burn it all…

The Porn Studio bustles with energy. Alastor doesn’t see Valentino, but that doesn’t mean that the Overlord wasn’t there. He just wasn’t in the main area.

There are cameramen, studio hands, crew, and barely dressed actors and actresses wearing flimsy bathrobes between shots. The air smells of lube, sweat, and too many bodies under too many light sources. The scent mixing with the noise makes Alastor feel a bit dizzy and excited.

He summons his microphone and taps it before speaking into it. The microphone magically amplifies his voice sending it booming through the room, “Excuse me. I hate to be a bother, but I’m here to have a word with Valentino.”

A big burly bovine demon wearing a Crew t-shirt pushes his way through. He’s got a single giant green eye and he narrows it at Alastor. “Mr. Valentino, ain’t in the habit of seeing people without an appointment,” the demon sneers. “What makes you think you’re so special?”

Alastor chuckles, delighted. “You must be new,” he says. “Perhaps you should ask your cowering co-workers who I am and what makes me so special.”

The demon frowns and glances over his shoulder. To his surprise, the other demons present have backed away as far as possible from both him and the group that have walked into the door. Visibly sweating now, the bull demon turns back around. He finds that Alastor is now much, much closer. “Um…”

Alastor puts a finger to his lips. “Shh,” he says. “Now, why don’t you go be a good boy and fetch me Valentino? I would hate for this to end in bloodshed.”

The bull demon, bless his heart, remains resolute. “Mr. Valentino says he’s not to be disturbed. I don’t care who you are.”

Alastor sighs and takes a step back. He really doesn’t have time for this. “Niffty? Sic ’im.”

The bull demon has barely a chance to react before he feels both his tendons being slashed and the sensation of his body being climbed. He howls in pain as he feels thin arms wrap around his neck. “Hi,” a sweet voice says in his ear. “I’m Niffty! It’s nice to meet you!” He feels teeth sink into his neck. He screams louder and thrashes about trying to dislodge her, but Niffty hangs on with the tenacity of a pit bull.

“Get her off! Get her off!” the bull demon yells.

Alastor sidesteps the thrashing demon and walks forward.

A group of large demons move to block his path. Alastor suspects that these are what pass for security at Valentino’s studio. Better late than never.

“Really, gentlemen,” Alastor sighs. “I’m just here to see Valentino. There’s no need for all this rigamarole.”

“You think you can just fucking walk in here, attack folks, and then demand to see the boss,” a serpentine Sinner demon snarls. He wears a name tag with ‘Brutus’ scrawled across it.

When Husker sees the name tag, his eyes gleam. “Hold up. Your name’s Brutus?”

“Yeah. What of it, kitty cat?”

“You wouldn’t happen to be the same Brutus that came onto Angel Dust then sliced up his back when he told you no, would you?”

Brutus snorts and spits out a glob of mucus at the mention of Angel’s name. “What if I am? Who the fuck are you?”

Husk’s wings flare and his golden-yellow irises glow. “I’m his fucking lover,” Husk bares his fangs. “You know, he told me not to go after you. He said that it wasn’t that big a deal and that I would just make things worse. So, I listened to him. I told myself that Angel was more than capable of defending himself. Hell, I’ve seen some of the shit he’s done. But,” Husk drops to all fours. “Here you are. Who am I to say no to this bounty that Lady Fortune has been oh so kind enough to gift me?” He launches himself at Brutus, ramming into his knees. Brutus crashes backward and can only use his arms to shield himself from Husk’s relentless claw attacks.

“You there,” Alastor points his microphone at a fly demoness. She shrinks away, but doesn’t run. Points for her. “Where. Is. Valentino? I am quickly losing patience.”

“Right here.” Valentino stands in an open doorway on the other side of the room. He takes a drag from his cigarette and the red smoke floats to form disappointed waving finger. “Mind telling me what you’re doing here, fucking up my studio, and harassing my workers?” Valentino takes another drag and smoke billows out from between his glowing pink teeth. “I didn’t think this was your scene.”

“It’s not,” Alastor agrees. He gives the moth pimp a genteel smile. “But I just had to speak with you.”

“Uh-huh,” Valentino considers the deer demon. He notices Vaggie standing there and smiles. “Mmmmm, hey you. Did the Radio Demon bring me a treat?”

Vaggie instinctively takes a step back when face to face with Valentino’s predatory gaze and Alastor moves to block her from the Overlord’s line of sight. “Afraid not. She’s with me. We’re here for business not pleasure.”

Valentino scoffs. “Sounds to me like you ain’t been doing the right kind of business, Radio Demon.” He sighs. The Overlord looks over at the mess that Alastor’s brought to his studio.

It’s absolute chaos. Niffty moves from victim to victim with the vicious speed of a starving piranha. When she’s not carving with her knife, she’s taking chunks of flesh out with her teeth.

Husk is still engaged with Brutus. Brutus decided pretty early that he wants no part of this and tries to escape only to find himself under attack by Husk again and again.

“Look, I’m sorry, man!” Brutus weeps. “I wouldn’t have cut him if I had known he was your boyfriend.”

“You shouldn’t have cut him because it’s a shitty thing to do!” Husk snarls. He picks up a bottle from the fully stocked bar and raises it above his head to bring it crashing down on Brutus’ head. Husk pauses. He lowers the bottle so he can read the label. With a grimace, he gently puts the bottle back down on the bar and selects a different one. He reads that one, gives a satisfied nod before smashing it across Brutus’ face.

“Perhaps we can go somewhere a bit quieter?” Alastor asks.

Valentino nods. “Let’s make this quick.” He grins, then says, “Step into my parlor.”

Alastor holds the door open for Vaggie and moves to shut it only to find himself unable to do so.

It’s Brutus. The demon has his claws in the door frame and attempts to drag himself through.

Alastor uses the butt of his cane to poke at the demon’s hands and face. “No. No! Stop that. You stop that this very instant.” He chastises as he smacks away Brutus’ hand.

“Please,” Brutus blubbers. “You gotta help me.” He yelps when a snarling Husk grabs him by the ankles and starts dragging him away. “He’s going to kill me!”

“Probably,” Alastor agrees. He shuts the door and turns to face the other two demons. “Now that we’ve got some quiet. How about we get started?”

Valentino takes a seat in an expensive looking leather office chair behind a heavy marble desk. Alastor sneers up at the portrait of Valentino dressed in a black suit that takes up the entire wall behind the pimp’s desk. There are two demonesses lounging on the sofa. Valentino hooks his thumb at a door on the opposite end of the room and they obediently leave. “Have a seat,” he tells them and points to two less impressive chairs.

Alastor sits and dematerializes his cane. Vaggie takes a seat and clutches her tablet against her. Her single eye bounces around the room, taking in everything.

No one says anything for a minute or two. Valentino stares at Alastor with barely concealed contempt as he smokes. Vaggie sits in silence, sweating. The moth demoness looks like she would rather be anywhere else. Alastor understands her plight. Out of the three of them, she is the least powerful. If this meeting goes sour, she would be the first casualty.

Valantino lets out an impatient huff. “Well?” He waves a hand and says, “You come into my studio, wreck my shit, and hold up production. I assume it must be for a reason.”

Alastor levels a cold stare at the other Overlord. A million scenarios pitter patter around in his mind about how to best go about this. He remembers practicing the speech in his head on the ride over. All of that goes to Hell when he sees how bored Valentino looks. “Stay away from Vox,” Alastor snarls.

Valentino blinks. Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. Alastor feels rather than sees Vaggie’s wince. “What did you say?” Valentino leans forward. The smoke billows from between his pink teeth.

Vaggie quickly intervenes, fright be damned. “We’re here to negotiate the terms of Angel Dust’s continued employment under you and your studios,” she says.

Valentino gives her a once over. It makes her skin crawl. “The hell are you talking about? Angelcakes is my property. He doesn’t get to negotiate jack shit. Where is he anyway?”

Vaggie narrows her eye. Alastor chuckles. Looks like her anger was winning out over her fear. Good.

“Angel Dust is currently recuperating from what he called ‘a workplace accident.’ I’m sure you know all about that since you’re largely responsible for that.”

Valentino throws legs up on his desk and blows smoke rings. “He was being a brat and I gave him a few love taps. No big deal. Is he still whining about it?”

Vaggie’s jaw drops. “Love taps? Love taps?! You broke his fucking arm!”

“He’s got three more that work just fine.”

Vaggie slams her hands down on Valentino’s desk. “You are a piece of shit and if I had my way Angel Dust would walk away from you and this place forever. You ten-foot tall, gaudy fucker!”

Valentino blows a cloud of smoke her way. “You done?” he sneers. He looks at Alastor. “Control your bitch before I’m forced to put her down. I don’t give two shits that she’s the princess’s consort. No one disrespects me and gets away with it.”

Alastor chuckles. “Oh, I’m afraid there’s no controlling Vaggie but for the moment, let’s move the conversation to someone other than Angel Dust. Not to say that we won’t be discussing him, just that we’ll circle back. No. I’m afraid I’d like to talk to you about someone else: Vox.” Alastor can feel his claws threatening to extend. He doesn’t care. All he can think about is how he found Vox. “Your own lover,” Alastor snarls. “You brutalized him! Left him bleeding! Have you no shame?”

Valentino takes another drag from his cigarette. He looks Alastor over. He snuffs the smoke out and begins to laugh. “Holy shit! That’s fucking hilarious! I can’t believe it! Of all the demons in Hell Voxxy went to you for help! You!” The moth demon practically doubles over, he’s laughing so hard.

Alastor starts to rise from his seat. His eyes have completely bypassed the radio dials phase and gone straight to black voids. “He didn’t come to me,” Alastor spits. “I found him. You left him in an alley like he was trash and I happened upon him. Do you have any idea what could have happened if I hadn’t been there? Do you even care?”

Valentino snorts. “Voxxy’s had worse,” he says dismissively. “So, what? This is you acting as his knight in crimson armor? Out of the goodness of your little black heart? Give me a fucking break, baby.” Valentino leans back in his chair. “Like I’d believe that for a second. What’s your angle, Radio Demon? What’s really got you all hot and bothered?”

Vaggie clasps her hands over her ears when Alastor emits a screech of static. “There is no angle,” Alastor bellows. “I am simply here to lay out terms. And these are my terms, Valentino,” Alastor cocks his head to one side and stares daggers at the other demon. “Vox is no longer yours.”

Valentino no longer looks amused. He rises from his seat. “You’re funny,” he growls. “Ha. Ha. Hear me laughing? Hilarious. But a joke’s a joke. Vox is mine. You hear me? Mine . M-I-N-E, bitch! If you think for a second I’m going to let some tap-shoe wearing fuck take what’s mine then you got another thing coming.”

Alastor points a finger at Valentino. “He doesn’t belong to you. Not anymore.”

“Bullshit.” Valentino looks ready to round his desk and rip into Alastor. “You don’t tell me who I own. If I wanted, I could fucking own everybody in this goddamned city. I’m Valentino! King of Narcotics and Sex! Bitches get down on their knees at the sight of me, ready to suck my dick or kiss my feet. Whatever I’m in the mood for,” he sneers. Valentino fishes in his coat and pulls out another cigarette. “You think I’m going to let you take away my favorite toy? Nah.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find I took away more than one of your toys today.”

Valentino lights his smoke and inhales. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at Alastor. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean,” he demands.

Alastor settles back in his seat. “I think you’ll find that one of your former souls is now in my control.” Alastor relishes the look of disbelief that washes over Valentino’s face. “Angel Dust is mine now.”

“You’re a goddamned liar!” Valentino smashes his fists down on the desk.  He opens a hand, and a contract appears in a flash of green flames. “Got it right here! You think you’re real fucking clever, but you’re full of shit! You can’t break another Overlord’s contract! You can’t steal his soul from me.”

“Oh yes, he fucking can,” Vaggie says. She’s got her tablet. “And there’s nothing you can do about it cuz it’s already done.”

Valentino snarls, but keeps his eyes on Alastor. He unfurls the contract and shows them Angel Dust’s signature. He taps the spider demon’s human name. “What’s this? Angel Dust’s name on my contract? Still proving that I own his slutty body and soul? Well, well, well.” He rolls the contract back up. “You know what. I’m sick of you. The both of you. You think I was hard on Angel? Well, you ain’t seen nothing yet. He’s done with that hotel. I’ll fucking chain him to the floor of the studio. He’ll never leave! And that’s just step one.” Valentino grins. “I’ll have him doing snuff for the next six decades. Maybe that’ll take care of his attitude problem.”

Alastor looks disgusted. He reaches into his coat and pulls out the contract that he, Angel Dust, and even Husk had worked on. Valentino’s eyes widen at the sight of it. “No, no, no,” he murmurs. “What is that? What the fuck is that, Alastor?”

“This? Why it’s Angel’s contract…with me.”

“You can’t have a contract! I have his contract!” Valentino shakes it as proof.

Alastor hums and slowly unrolls the contract. Emblazoned on the bottom is Angel Dust’s name glowing in crimson letters. “Hmm, about that.” Alastor leans down and readjusts his monocle. He puts a hand to his mouth and gasps theatrically. “Ah, I see the confusion,” he says and pulls out a pen. “ I haven’t signed it yet. How silly of me! One moment.”

“No!” Valentino screams.

But it’s too late. Alastor scrawls his name in an artistic looping signature. The letters burn bright red and continue to burn until Alastor’s name is branded on the paper.

The contract in Valentino’s hand bursts into flames. He drops it, but not before it sears through his glove. “No!” he screams again as he watches the contract go up in flames. His eyes flash. “You!” he points at Alastor. “How did you do this?”

Alastor doesn’t answer. He doesn’t owe Valentino an explanation. Instead, he smooths down his coat and says, “Now, we should really discuss Angel’s employment. We at the Hazbin Hotel—” Vaggie grimaces at the name. “—Feel that Angel’s continued happiness and safety are top priority. Angel Dust has provided us with some conditions. Vagatha?”

Vaggie begins ticking off things on her fingers, “No more porn. No more having to sell himself when you’re pissed off. You and he are to only interact on a professional level. You are not to contact him outside of work unless it’s work related. Angel Dust will still continue to strip at your clubs.” Vaggie shrugs. “He likes to dance, and he likes being the center of attention. He’ll also do appearances when you open a new club if properly compensated.”

Valentino looks ready to launch himself over the desk. “And why the fuck should I even consider this? You think Angel Dust is special? He’s not. After all the shit he’s pulled and what you’re currently trying to do, what’s to stop me from killing him? I’ve killed hoes for less.”

Vaggie smirks. “Yeah, he said you’d say that. He says you say that a lot, but strangely never follow through. I thought that was weird until I saw this.” She turns on her tablet and puts it on Valentino’s desk. “I got information on how much money Angel Dust brings you. You rely on Angel’s popularity. Some might say you need it. You use his face to advertise your sex toys, clubs, and venues. His movies are the most purchased. His shows the most sold out. Angel Dust brings you a lot of money.”

Alastor taps a finger on his chin. “I suppose you could kill him, but I don’t think you will,” he says. “You’re too cautious for that.”

“You think I couldn’t find a replacement?”

“I think you wouldn’t risk it,” Alastor tuts and wags a finger. “True, there’s a chance that the next demon you choose could be bigger than Angel Dust. Or there could be an equal chance that they’d flop. You would waste time and money finding new talent, training them, and for what? To see them crash and burn. I would personally love to see that, but I think you wouldn’t.”

Valentino sits back in his chair and gnashes his teeth in frustration. “Why are you doing this?” he demands.

Alastor sits back in his own seat and savors the other Overlord’s petulant tone. “Maybe I just think sticking it to you is the height of comedy. Look at you! Sitting there sulking like a child in those ridiculous heart-shaped cheaters.” Alastor throws back his head and laughs.

“You think you can just keep Vox from me? Okay, so you got your greasy hands on Angel. Big whoop. As long as he’s bringing me an income, you can have him. But Vox,” Valentino shakes his head. “He’s mine. You don’t get to have him.”

Alastor sighs and gives the other Overlord an almost pitying look. “Pathetic,” he says. “You are the worst kind of child,” his voice takes on a sharper edge. “Throwing away your toys after you break them, then getting upset that someone else came along and scooped them up.” Alastor shakes his head again. “You are not getting Vox back. You shot him. Beat him. Left him for dead. If you’d think for a second, I’d let you anywhere near him…”

Valentino rises from his seat once more. He slowly walks around his desk exuding an air of menace. “Okay, old man. I’ve put up with enough of your bullshit today,” he hisses. “So, I’m just going to do what I should have done when I saw you entering my studio.”

Alastor scoffs. “You’re not going to fight me,” he titters and waves a hand dismissively.

Valentino leans closer. “And why not,” he growls.

“The same reason you’re going to give into Angel’s demands.” Alastor’s grin widens. “You’re too cautious. You’ve been sitting here running your pornography empire for decades. How many years has it been since you had to duke it out for your turf? You probably go out occasionally to bump off some unsuspecting demon, but the rest of the time? You’re running your business or socializing.

 “You want to fight me. There’s a part of you that even believes that you can beat me. But,” Alastor props his chin in his hand and smiles knowingly at Valentino. “There’s a larger part of you that won’t risk it. That part of you doubts. That part of you doesn’t want to risk the hard-earned image that you spent years crafting. What if you lost? Worse: what if someone saw you lose? What would happen? Would they fear you less? Threaten your superiority? Your livelihood? You don’t know. You can’t know.” Alastor stands. He doesn’t get anywhere close to Valentino’s height in his current form. It doesn’t matter. “You are not to go anywhere near Vox or Angel Dust outside of a professional capacity. If you don’t think you can remain professional, then I suggest you hire a mediator.”

Valentino shakes with rage. He looks like he’s seconds from throttling Alastor. “Why do you care about him?” he whispers, harshly. “The both of you spent I dunno how many years at each other’s throats. Now, you’re acting like you suddenly care about his well-being?”

“Why did you do it?” Vaggie speaks up.

Valentino glances at her. “What?”

“Why did you do that to Vox? I mean, I’ve heard this isn’t the first time you’ve cracked his face, but never to this extent.”

Valentino scowls. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we broke up.”

“And?” Vaggie rolls her eyes. “You guys break up and get back together all the time. But you almost killed the guy this time around. Why? What makes this time so different?”

Alastor begins to laugh. It’s the type of full belly laughter that makes you double over and slap your knees. “Oh, I’m such a fool,” he exclaims. He wipes his eye. “How could I not see! The cruelty! The wanton abuse! The extreme nature of the violence! It’s so obvious!” Alastor closes in on Valentino until they’re practically touching. “ He ended things with you.” When Valentino averts his gaze, Alastor gives him a snide smile. “Oh, I hit the nail on the head, didn’t I? I see, I see. It’s all well and good when you end things, but God forbid he try to do the same. Your pride can’t take it.”

“Shut up,” Valentino whispers. “Just shut up. Get the fuck out my studio! We’re done here.”

“Yes,” Alastor says smugly. “I believe we are. One more thing, dear fellow. I must reiterate that you stay away from both Vox and Angel Dust. If I find out that you’ve harmed them in any way I will – oh, what’s a proper modern saying that you’ll be able to understand?” the Radio Demon takes a moment to think. “Oh! I got it! If you bring harm to either of them, I will go fucking nuclear on you.” The sound of static fills the air along with the coppery scent of blood. The plants in Valentino’s office wilt. “Well,” Alastor claps his hands. “This has been lovely, but I suppose we should be on our way. Oh, and by the way. Angel Dust will be taking this week and the next off. I suspect you’re the type to take out your frustrations on those around you, and we don’t want Angel having any more ‘workplace accidents’,” Alastor smiles knowingly. “I would hate to come back here and have yet another conversation with you. The next might not be so friendly.” Alastor turns on his heel. He summons his cane and leads Vaggie to the door. “I might come back later anyway. We need to discuss Angel’s compensation for his appearances at your clubs. I believe he's owed back pay.”

Valentino isn’t satisfied with the idea of just licking his wounds. He wants one last parting shot before they go. “You’re wasting your time! He always comes crawling back to me!” He shouts at Alastor. He gives the Radio Demon a nasty grin and says a bit louder, “Vox always comes crawling back.”

Alastor’s smile grows cold and tight. “That was before he had options,” he replies and shuts the door before Valentino can respond.

Valentino’s studio is a bloodbath. Corpses litter the floors and there’s a pile of bodies in the corner currently on fire. The actors and actresses have fled, and there’s a headless corpse wearing Brutus’ name tag speared on a lighting rig. Niffty makes her way to Alastor holding a stolen duffel bag filled with limbs. “I got you some snacks,” she says with a smile.

 “Niffty, you continue to be an utter delight,” Alastor says and gives the demoness a pat on the head. Niffty giggles and blushes. “Where’s Husker?”

“Over here,” the cat demon walks out. He looks no worse for the wear. “We done here?”

“That depends,” Vaggie says. She puts her hands on her hips. “You going to put that stolen bottle of booze back where you found it?”

Husk puts a paw over his heart and looks scandalized. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Miss Vaggie.”

Alastor uses his cane to flip off Husk’s hat, revealing a bottle filled with a clear alcoholic beverage.

         Husk stands there gaping foolishly for a moment. He shrugs. “I have no idea how that got there,” he says in a flat tone.

         Vaggie points a finger at him ready unleash a tirade, but then deflates. “You know what?” She rubs her temples and sighs, “You’ve earned it. I won’t say a word as long as you finish it before we get back to the hotel and oh, wow look at him go. He’s already chugging it.”

         That was an understatement. Husk tilts his entire head backwards and practically inhales the bottle’s contents. Vaggie watches half horrified and half fascinated. “Are you even tasting it,” she can’t help but ask.

         Husk pulls the bottle away to take a much-needed breath. “Don’t need to taste it,” he answers. “It just needs to get the job done.”

         Vaggie shakes her head. She looks at Alastor. “I thought you said that being with Angel made him not want to drink.”

         “No, I said being with Angel makes him drink less.”

         Vaggie throws up her hands. “Let’s just get in the fucking car. I’m exhausted. Why did you even bring me? You and Valentino looked like you were going to throw down. I would have been useless.”

         Alastor pinches her cheek and chuckles when she swats away his hand. “You were far from useless, my dear. I’m well aware what could have happened if I had let myself go. Valentino and I would have gone into a rage. We would have destroyed anything and everything not caring who was in our path. If you were in the room when that happened, you would have been a casualty.” He smiles. “Which is precisely why I wanted you there.”

         Vaggie’s jaw drops. She narrows her eye. “There better be an additional explanation,” she growls.

         “I brought you because I knew that you would be in danger if I lashed out and that is what stayed my hand. I won’t lie. I came dangerously close once or twice—”

         “Yeah, I noticed.” Vaggie mutters.

         “But,” Alastor says as he poked her nose. She didn’t swat at him this time. “I kept my composure, and you kept your life. Plus, we put that fool in his place.”

         “And I got to kill so many people,” Niffty cheers.

         “And I got a free bottle of booze,” Husk slurs. He wiggles his fingers and sleight of hands a new bottle out of his ear. “Make it two, motherfuckers! Abraca-fucking-dabra!”

         Vaggie groans, but chooses not to say anything else. “So, what now?” she asks. “Back to the hotel?”

         Alastor shakes his head. “We need to make a stop at Vox’s tower.”

         Vaggie looks at him curiously, but he turns his gaze out the window, signaling an end to the conversation.

         It doesn’t take long before they arrive at Vox’s media tower. Vox’s tower is an intimidating building of dark glass and chrome rising high above the rest of Pentagram City. On the center of the building is a giant V with the symbol of an eye in the center made entirely of red neon lights. At certain angles, the eye seems to focus directly on the viewer, but surely that was just an optical illusion.

Alastor shakes his head when Vaggie and Husk start to get out. “I just need Niffty for this. Wait here. Shouldn’t be long.”

Vaggie watches as Alastor and Niffty approach the entrance to Vox’s building. She almost sprints out of the car when she sees guns and turrets appear out from above the doors and point directly at Alastor, but for a second Vaggie sees an eye appear in the reflective glass before disappearing. The weapons disengage and the doors open. Alastor clasps his hands behind his back and strolls inside, followed closely by Niffty.

Vaggie exhales a ragged breath and sinks back into her seat. She glances at Husk who is working away at his bottle (was that a different bottle?) and ignoring her. “Don’t suppose you’d want to share?”

He hisses at her and clutches his ill-gotten spoils protectively against his chest.

Vaggie snorts. “I thought not.” She pulls out her tablet and entertains herself. Vaggie’s in the middle of watching a particularly hilarious let’s play when something thuds against the side of the limo. The force of it is so great that the vehicle actually rocks a little. She looks up and is greeted by the sight of a hammerhead shark licking the window.

Vaggie screams.

Husk snorts awake looks over at Vaggie, sees what she sees, and screams as well. “The fuck is that!” he demands. He pushes himself into a corner and arches his back. His fur poofs involuntarily.

The shark attempts to bite at the window. It whimpers as it’s pulled away. Alastor opens the door and peers down at them. “You might want to scooch over,” he tells Vaggie.

“Alastor, what the hell is that thing?” Vaggie screeches as she crawls over to where Husk is cowering.

The shark—

Dog?

The shark dog clambers inside and due to its sheer size, encroaches on the personal space of both Husk and Vaggie. He gives Vaggie’s cheek a lick before pulling himself forward and laying his head on Husk’s lap. The cat demon freezes. “I’m not drunk enough for this,” he whispers and stares into the middle distance.

“Alastor,” Vaggie says keeping her voice low and steady. She has no idea what will set this thing off. “What,” she asks and points downs at the shark.

Alastor climbs over the shark’s tail and puts a packed bag beside him. Niffty scales the shark’s body like a mountain, giggling madly as she takes a seat on his back. “Husker and Vagatha, meet Vark. He’s Vox’s pet demon shark. Isn’t he lovely?”

At the sound of his name, Vark’s tail begins to wag. Alastor ducks, narrowly avoiding being smacked in the face.

“Why is he here?” Husk manages to growl out through clenched teeth.

“Well, I couldn’t very well leave him alone. Poor thing. Plus, I wanted to grab Vox a change of clothes.”

At the sound of his owner’s name, Vark attempts to turn around and look at Alastor. The result is less than ideal. Both Husk and Vaggie are smooshed against their seats. Niffty gets tossed off Vark’s back and flattened as well. Vark’s tail smashes through the glass of both the rear driver’s side door and the partition. He wriggles and puts his head on Alastor’s knees, looking up at him. Alastor puts a hand on Vark’s head and give him a gentle rub. “You’ll see him soon,” the Radio Demon promises.

When the limo finally pulls to a stop in front of the Hazbin (formerly Happy) Hotel, Alastor slides out and holds open the door. Vark barrels out ready to explore this new place with its new people and smells.

“Niffty, the leash if you’d be so kind.”

Vark’s seconds from breaking down the front door when he’s brought an abrupt stop. Niffty holds on to a leash. She’s the only one strong enough to hold the demon shark in place. “Easy, Vark,” she orders. She runs to his side and presses a cheek against his stomach. He rolls over onto his back and Niffty squeals with delight. “Oh, you’re just a big ol baby, aren’t you? Aren’t you? Who wants pets? You want pets? Yes, you do! You want all the pets because you’re a sweetie!”

Husk climbs out of the car and tries to straighten his matted fur. The day had started off so well. He beat the snot out of some goons. Stole a few bottles of high-end booze from abusive asshole. Now, he’s got matted fur, a crick in his neck, and one of his legs was under Vark for so long it fell asleep.

Vaggie fared a little better, but her hair is in disarray, her bow’s come loose, and her tablet’s screen splintered from Vark’s weight.

Alastor doesn’t have one hair out of place.

He hums a little ditty as he carries a single bag with some of Vox’s belongings. Niffty climbs onto Vark’s back and grabs hold his back barbs. When Alastor opens the lobby’s door Vark bolts inside and Niffty rides him like he’s a mighty steed. “This is amazing,” she screams as they thunder past.

“Glad you’re having fun,” Alastor calls after her. “Oh buck up, you two,” he tells Vaggie and Husk. “You both survived.”

They glower at him. “I’m going to find Charlie,” Vaggie grumbles. “Then I’m going to take a nap.”

“Same,” Husk mutters.

“You’re going to man the bar,” Alastor tells him, voice firm.

The cat demon scowls. “I guess I’m going to go man the bar,” Husk mutters. He stomps by Alastor who ignores his thrall’s tantrum.

Alastor makes his way inside to find Vark running circles in the lobby while Niffty maintains her grip on his barbs while spinning the handle of his leash above her head like a lasso. The commotion eventually draws both Charlie and Angel Dust downstairs. “Is that Vark?” Angel asks, amazed. Fat Nuggets wriggles out of his arms and jumps to the floor. He trods out to get a better look at this new creature.

Vark skids to a stop.

Time seems to stop as both pets stare at one another.

Vark darts forward, running toward Nuggets with his mouth opened wide.

“Vark, no.” Alastor commands. “That’s not food.”

Vark slides to a stop in front of Fat Nuggets who stands there frozen, trembling from snout to cute piggy hooves. The words, “not food” bounce around in Vark’s brain for a bit before they finally take purchase. Vark understands. He begins to nuzzle Fat Nuggets because if this strange little thing isn’t food, that means it’s a new friend and Vark is all about friends.

Fat Nuggets eventually gets over his terror when he realizes this new giant isn’t about to devour him. The two pets run around the lobby in an impromptu game of tag that elicits coos and from the people watching right up until Vark steamrolls over Husk and completely bodies him. Angel descends down the stairs to help his boyfriend to the nearest chair while Charlie takes a video of Vark and Nuggets playing. “Vaggie, I just had an idea!” Charlie grins.

Vaggie smiles at her girlfriend. “Is that we should install a fence so patrons with pets can have somewhere for them to play?”

“You read my mind!”

Vaggie winces as something in the other room goes crashing to ground. “I mean, it was sort of a lucky guess,” she says with another tired smile.

         Alastor sticks two fingers in his mouth and blows out a high, shrill whistle. Vark scrambles into the room, drawn by the strange noise. Alastor gives him a pat. “How would you like to see Vox? Niffty, down.”

         “Aww,” Niffty frowns. “Can’t I ride him until we get to your door?”

         Alastor sighs. “Well, I suppose.” Niffty lets out a jubilant whoop.

         “Hold up, Alastor where’s that bag of meat that she got you?” Vaggie calls before they got too far. “Please tell me you didn’t leave it in the limo!”

         Alastor stops in his tracks. He dispatches a shadow. “It’s being handled,” he promises.

         True to her word, Niffty slides from Vark’s back and heads back in the direction of the stairs once they reach Alastor’s door. The Radio Demon picks up Vark’s leash and let’s the shark pull him up the stairs only giving the strap a warning tug when it seems like Vark is about to pull him off his feet.

         When they reach his room, Vark runs this way and that giving everything an inquisitive sniff before he stops dead in his tracks. He sniffs the air and heads off in the direction of Alastor’s bedroom. “Wait for me,” Alastor mutters. It’s less funny when it’s his belongings that the demon shark is about to destroy.

         Vark whines and strains against the lead, anxious to move forward. Alastor opens the door and has to hold on for dear life when Vark hauls him toward the bed. With a huff, Alastor smooths down his ruffled suit and dusts off his knees. He throws a warning look at this doppelganger when he sees it snickering at his expense. The shadow smirks and darts behind a dresser.

         It seems Charlie attempted to play a game of cards with Vox, but his unresponsiveness turned the game into Solitaire. Alastor carefully removes the cards and puts them to the side. He notices a plate of half-eaten food placed on his desk. “Vox,” he calls. “I brought a guest for you. I hope his presence helps.” And with no further introduction Alastor let’s Vark’s leash slip from his hand. The demon shark bounds over to his master’s side, snuffling at his hand.

         Alastor watches and waits.

         Vox’s fingers twitch.

         Alastor sucks in a breath.

         Vox slowly raises his hand and places it gently on Vark’s head. Vark attempts to climb onto the bed, but can’t quite manage, so he satisfies himself by snuffling and licking the side of Vox’s screen. Vox turns to his pet and wraps his arms around him, hugging him tightly. Alastor can see the slightest tremble in Vox’s shoulders.

         He’s loathe to ruin this moment, but he knows he must.

         “You know,” Alastor sighs and begins to take off his coat. Vox flinches at the sound of his voice, but the deer demon carries on. “I had a conversation with Valentino. It was before we went to retrieve Vark. You know, I was wondering why it was taking you so long to get better and my wondering only increased tenfold when he made it seem like you usually bounce back with no trouble.” Alastor pulls off his tie and puts it to the side. He slips off his shoes and walks over to the bed. He takes a seat at the foot. Vox has released his hold on Vark, returning to his original sitting position, but he keeps a hand on the shark’s head as if using him for an anchor. Alastor continues, “I’m ashamed that it took me so long to realize what the problem was, Vox and for that you have my deepest, sincerest apologies.” Alastor gives the Overlord a sad smile. “You know, everyone keeps asking me why I helped you. They can’t believe I’d do it, given our animosity.” Alastor’s smile almost dips, but he reinforces it. “As if I would have left you there. As if I could find any pleasure in the state you were in. Discarded, hurt, treated so abysmally by someone who claimed to love you! It makes me ill. You’re my rival, Vox but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you deserve better.”

         Vox’s shoulders shake and his head hangs lower. Vark whines and lays his head on Vox’s lap in a display of comfort.

Alastor moves closer. He keeps his voice soft and as sincere as possible, “Vox, I was never going to mock you for being hurt. I’m not going to hold it over your head or use it against you in the future. I’m not helping you because I’ll want to leverage it for something later. I’m not doing this because I plan to blackmail you. I’m doing this because—” Alastor pauses. He curses himself for his inability to find the right words. “Vox, I know you have no reason to believe me. Why should you? We’ve been at each other’s throats for how many decades now? And let’s be honest, Hell isn’t the place known for fostering trust in others,” Alastor smiles sadly. He reaches across the bed and takes Vox’s hands in his. He stares down at the bright blue of Vox’s claws against the scarlet red of his own. “I want you to get better, Vox. That’s all I want. Please. I don’t want to lose you. Not to him. You’re stronger than this. I know you are. You wouldn’t be my rival if you weren’t.”

Alastor feels Vox’s hand close around his own. He feels the fingers give the slightest squeeze.

Vox’s screen powers on and the TV demon and Media Overlord raises his eyes to meet Alastor’s. “Hey,” Vox’s reedy voice pops and distorts like a malfunctioning soundboard. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hey, Alastor,” his voice is clearer now.

Alastor’s face hurts, he’s grinning so hard. “Hello, Vox,” the Radio Demon says. He gives Vox’s hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s so very good to see you.”

Chapter Text

Vox stares down at his hands. He’s unable to bring himself to look at Alastor.

Alastor waits for him to speak. The Radio Demon suspects this must be hard for Vox.

Vox clears his throat. “So,” he starts. Vox immediately stops again. He rubs the side of his neck. He sighs. “How much do you know?”

“I know enough,” Alastor responds. He stands and walks to the kitchen. “Would you like a glass of wine? I have a bottle of an excellent vintage that I’ve been saving for a special occasion. Would you care for a glass?”

         That gets a smile from Vox. “Yeah? And what’s the special occasion that warrants you cracking open this special bottle of wine?”

         “We’re toasting to new beginnings,” Alastor says as he rummages around the cupboard for glasses. When he finds them, he stoops to remove a wall panel near his fridge and pulls out the bottle of wine he has hidden there. Charlie and Vaggie were both very adamant about trying to keep the hotel as dry as possible. They allowed the downstairs bar to stay only because the alcohol was practically tap water in fancy bottles (also they were afraid of how Husk and Angel would react to going cold turkey). Alastor’s lived through Prohibition once so he’s not keen on suffering through an encore. Alastor returns and hands Vox a glass. “We’re toasting to new possibilities.”

         Vox watches as Alastor pours them both a glass. He swirls the red liquid in the glass. The Overlord smiles. “You know what, Alastor? You’re right.”  He raises his glass. “Here’s to fresh starts!”

         “Here! Here!” Alastor grins.

         Vox’s smile falters. “Here’s to cutting out toxic parts of my life. Here’s to realizing that some people don’t change. Here’s to getting out before…” Vox’s screen flickers as his voice warbles. “Before…”

         Alastor gently takes the glass out of Vox’s shaking hands. “You’re going to be fine, Vox.”

         “Am I,” Vox retorts. “Am I, really? He runs a hand over the bandages covering his chest. “I always told myself he was going to change. That the next time would be different. I believed it. Can you believe it? Stupid, right?”

         “There’s nothing stupid about believing the person you love loves you back.” Alastor says softly. “You’re not the fool because you believed that Valentino cared enough about you to change. If anyone’s a fool, it’s him because he squandered the chances you kept giving him.” He puts his glass on the bedside table and glances over at Vark who has found one of Alastor’s shoes and has decided it must be destroyed.

         “Vark, no!” Vox starts to get off the bed, but Alastor holds up a hand.

         “Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles. “Pets will be pets. And if I’m being honest that pair were my least favorites.” To prove the point, he tosses the shoe’s mate at Vark who catches it midair.

         They sit in silence and watch as Vark chews noisily.

         “What will you do now?” Alastor asks.

         Vox shrugs. “I’ll go back home,” he says. “Life goes on, right? No sense sitting around moping about it.”

         “I don’t think what you’ve been doing can be considered ‘moping’ and I don’t think you’re being fair to yourself.”

         Vox snorts and looks away. “Whatever,” he mutters. He holds out a hand for the wine glass and takes it from Alastor. He downs the whole glass. “Look, thanks for taking care of me. Thanks for not leaving me for dead too. It…” Vox closes his eyes and takes a minute. He reopens his eyes and finds Alastor watching him, patiently. He puts the wine glass aside and takes hold of Alastor’s arm. He pulls the Radio Demon closer.

         Alastor pulls back, unsure. “Vox, I don’t—”

         “No, no. It’s nothing like that.” Vox assures him. “I just…”  He looks embarrassed. “Will you hold me? Nothing sexual, I swear. I just…” he trails off. “Nevermind. I was being dumb.”

         Alastor grabs Vox by the arms and hauls him close. He wraps his arms around him in a tight embrace. He feels Vox out his arms around him as well. The two Overlords sit on Alastor’s bed like this. Seconds become minutes. Minutes become an hour. Alastor slowly falls back against the bed, pulling Vox along with him.

         They lie back against the pillows and Alastor continues to hold Vox. The TV-headed Overlord holds onto Alastor tighter like the deer demon is a lifeline. His shadow doppelganger glides into the room. It turns on the phonograph and puts on a record. Cole Porter filters into the room. Alastor almost, almost murmurs a word of gratitude, but then the song starts playing and his gratitude turns to rage.

         Birds do it. Bees do it. Even educated fleas do it.

         Alastor’s eyes narrow at the shadow currently leaning against the desk watching him. “I’m going to lock you in a box and throw that box into the sea,” he mouths to the shadow.

         The shadow just silently laughs and dissipates.

         Alastor eyes dart to the phonograph and the record screeches to a halt.

         “Hey, I liked that song.”

         Alastor risks a glance down at Vox. “Apologies, my shadows can be a bit…well, that one in particular is a bit of an asshole.” Alastor restarts the record. He feels Vox relax against him.

         They eventually drift off to sleep like that; in one another’s arms as Cole Porter sings to them. Alastor is the first to wake the next morning. He opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling. Vox shifts in his sleep, pressing closer to Alastor. The Media Overlord’s lanky limbs have encircled the Radio Demon in an almost vice-like grip. Alastor turns his gaze down to Vox and takes in the sight of him. While sleeping the Overlord’s face doesn’t turn off, but dims as if conserving power. Alastor watches as the corner of Vox’s mouth twitches, a sleep tic of some sort. His eyes move up to Vox’s antennae. The deer demon has only seen them while Vox wore his hat, and he incorrectly assumed they were just a part of the accessory. No, he must use his top hat to hold the antennae in place. Alastor feels the strong urge to touch the crooked one. Was it always that way or was that another result of his relationship with Valentino? The Radio Demon swallows down a growl.

“…after these messages,” Vox murmurs in his sleep.

Alastor smiles down at him. “Nothing’s gonna to harm you, not while I’m around,” he whispers. “Nothing’s gonna harm you. No, sir not while I’m around.”

         Vox shifts again. He pushes away from Alastor just enough so he can look up at him. “Isn’t Sweeney Todd after your time?”

         “It is. I was dead before Sondheim was out of diapers let alone old enough to put a pen to paper.” Alastor scoffs.

         “Yet you’ve heard Sweeney Todd?”

         “I’m the Radio Demon. All music eventually finds me.” Alastor summons his microphone. The eye opens and blinks lazily up at its master. “Besides, a musical about serial killers and baking people into pies? How could I not enjoy that? Also, Angela Lansbury has the voice of an angel.”

         “Fair enough,” Vox says and sits up. He stretches languidly and pops his neck. “I guess I should have a proper shower and put on actual clothes.”

         “I brought you a bag. Also, a hat,” Alastor looks at Vox’s uncovered antenna. “I don’t know what happened to the one you were wearing when…” he doesn’t finish.

         “Thanks,” Vox gives him a half smile, “and I really mean that. Thank you.”

         “I should be thanking you as well. Your assistance with Vaggie’s device really helped us when we needed it.”

         The other Overlord looks askance. “Yeah, well. Information’s my business. Part of it anyway. Besides, I wanted to help. Sticking it to my ex was just a bonus.”

         Alastor tilts his head at the word ‘ex’. “So, you’ve decided? No second thoughts?”

         “This can’t happen again,” Vox says. He shudders and puts a hand on the bandages. “I don’t think I could survive it. He really meant to kill me.”

         Alastor tries to lighten the mood. “Well, look on the bright side. Your bullet wound was in the shoulder and—”

         “That’s because I dodged,” Vox says glumly. “He was aiming for my heart. I just moved and he missed. I got lucky.”

         A chill runs up Alastor’s spine. The harsh static threatens to drown out everything. “Oh,” he says. “Oh. That’s—” Alastor wants to find Valentino and shove that gun down his throat. “Breakfast.”

         Vox looks at him, surprised. “What?” he asks.

         Alastor shimmies out of the tangled blankets and sheets. “We should go downstairs and get breakfast. Most important meal of the day! Vark, would you like breakfast?”

         “Alastor, I can’t go downstairs looking like this.”

         “Then take a shower, get dressed! Everyone will want to know you’re alright.” Alastor pulls Vox out of bed and begins to coax him toward the door. “Don’t use up all the hot water! In the meantime, I’ll make us some coffee.” He marches off to the kitchen ignoring Vox’s protests. “Towels are in the top cabinet above the toilet.”

         Alastot sets about boiling the hot water for the coffee. It had been surprisingly difficult to find a siphon pot in Hell but in the end, Alastor found one. Well, Rosie found one. Alastor didn’t know who she had to kill to get it, but he hoped they were delicious.

         Vark wanders out of the bedroom, drawn from the scent of the coffee grounds siphoning. He bumps his noggin against Alastor’s back, sits down, and looks at him with large eyes. Alastor lets out a huff of laughter. “Sorry, my fishy friend. Nothing for you here, but once we go downstairs, I’ll see what’s available.”

         Vark chuffs and flops onto the floor. Vox exits the bathroom wearing a pair of black slacks and a white button shirt. He finishes the last button just as Vark notices his presence and nearly runs him down. “Easy, Varky!” Vox laughs. “Down! Down! Whoa! I said, down!”

         Alastor watches, amused. “He’s very excitable,” the Radio Demon comments. He puts two cups of coffee on his table.

         Vox gives Vark’s some generous pets. “Well, he had an exciting day,” the TV demon says. “Didn’t you, Varky? You went to a new place, met new friends, and got to run around. You had so much fun.”

         Alastor sips from his coffee. He spies the newspaper under his front door. Niffty must have put it there. “Tell me, how is Vark at fetching papers?”

         “That depends.”

         “On?”

         “Whether you want it in one piece and slobber-free.”

         Alastor gets up to retrieve his newspaper.

         Once he’s tired out from giving Vark his pets, Vox takes a seat at the table. He sips the coffee and looks around for sweetener. Alastor slides him a bowl of sugar cubes. “Anything interesting?” Vox asks as he drops two cubes into the coffee.

         “Apparently, they’re replacing the curry place Angel blew up with a Thai restaurant. Thai Me Up Daddy opens later this week.”

         Vox makes an appreciative noise. “I like Thai. Have you ever had it?” When Alastor shakes his head, the TV Demon slaps a hand down on the table. “Oh, man! Well, I gotta fix that. We’re getting you some Thai. Also, sushi. I bet you’ve never had sushi either.”

         Alastor thinks about it. “No, I can’t say I have,” he admits. While he’s honestly indifferent to the idea of trying new cuisine, Alastor can’t deny that he’s pleased that Vox wants to continue to see him.

         They finish their coffee and head downstairs. Alastor can smell bacon.

         “Good morning, everyone!” he says and plays the sound of fanfare. “We have a special guest joining us for breakfast so be on your best behavior.” Don’t embarrass me, goes unsaid but it’s understood.

         Vark trots into the room. Alastor laughs. “How silly of me. We have two special guests. Niffty, do you have any food we can give our dear amphibious friend? He must be famished!”

         Niffty springs up and sets about getting food for Vark. Vox takes a few hesitant steps into the room. Alastor’s microphone plays uproarious applause, and the Media Overlord shifts bashfully. “Ah, c’mon, Alastor,” Vox mutters. “Knock it off.”

         “Vox!” Charlie springs from her seat. The Princess of Hell still wears her pajamas and her hair’s barely been brushed. “How are you feeling? Any better? I’m so glad to see you up and about! You really gave us a scare!” In true Charlie fashion each question and comment get fired in rapid succession with no room for Vox to answer. “Have a seat,” she tells him and points to an empty one. “You must be so hungry!”

         Vox looks a bit overwhelmed, but takes the offered chair. Alastor notices that the seats on either side of Vox are occupied by Vaggie and Angel Dust.

         Alastor gives Angel Dust a cheery only slightly threatening smile. Angel rolls his eyes, grabs his half-finished plate, and moves to another chair. “Where’s Husker?” Alastor asks once he’s plopped down.

         “Hangover,” Vaggie says slicing through her pancakes. “He’ll probably be up at the crack of noon.”

         Alastor shakes his head. This simply won’t do. He raises a hand, ready to snap his fingers and summon his wayward henchman.

         “Aw, Al,” Angel whines. “Let the poor fella sleep. He did good work yesterday, right?”

         Alastor considers the spider demon. “Fine,” he relents and instead picks up a fork just as Niffty speeds up with his and Vox’s plates. “Ooh, pancakes! Thank you, Niffty dear. You are a treasure.”

         “Oh you,” Niffty says with a giggle. She scampers under the table and climbs back into her seat.

         Alastor looks around for Vark. Niffty has provided the demon shark with a hearty breakfast of bacon and scrambled eggs.

         “Um, thanks for the food.” Vox tells Niffty. He picks up a fork and knife and begins to eat.

         Alastor doesn’t want to stare, but he finds himself watching as Vox eats. The Overlord’s head has no additional dimensions, but the projected face on Vox screen reacts like a three-dimensional face as Vox eats. His cheek bulges as he chews. When loses himself in thought, the fork hangs from his mouth as he chews on the tines.

         Vox takes another bite of food and notices Alastor watching him. He smirks and turns toward the Radio Demon opening his mouth wide and showing him a mouthful of half chewed food. Alastor groans and turns away, prompting a snort of laughter from the TV Demon.

         “Hey, Alastor,” Charlie pipes up. “Did you sign those forms I gave you?”

         Alastor gives her a quizzical look. “What forms,” he asks.

         “Oh, the forms I had Niffty drop off in your room. I had some new ideas for potential programs and events we can implement once we start getting in residents.”

         Alastor’s smile goes rictus. Next to him, Vox coughs as the food goes down the wrong pipe.

         “You had Niffty bring me forms,” Alastor says in a lighthearted manner. “Curious, I don’t recall—”

         Charlie smiles, not picking up on the Radio Demon’s distress. “Oh, she brought them last night. She said you were sleeping, so she left them in your chair.”

         “Oh,” Alastor says. He grips the fork so hard that his fist shakes. He places it down on the table and glances at the Overlord next to him.  Vox has a hand pressed against his forehead and is staring down at his plate as if it will save him. “I must have missed those. So, she came by last night,” Alastor repeats slowly like he’s trying to solve a math problem. “While I was sleeping. Which chair did you leave the forms in Niffty?”

Charlie answers, “She said she left them in the one in your bedroom.” She looks curiously at Alastor, finally picking up that something is wrong.

Fuck.

Alastor and Vox turn as one and look down the table at Niffty.

The maid meets their gaze as she takes a long, slow sip from her cup of juice.

Angel spears a piece of bacon. “Are you two okay,” he asks. “You’re acting kinda screwy.”

Alastor’s mic spits a burst of feedback. “I’m fine,” he blurts. “We’re both fine. Right?” He looks at Vox. Vox doesn’t respond, and instead he starts chopping at the bacon on his plate. Something suddenly occurs to him. “Niffty, how did you get into my room?”

Niffty chews on a forkful of her food before replying. “I have a key,” she reminds him.

Alastor can feel his blood pressure rising. “I’m aware,” he replies through gritted teeth, “because I am the one who provided you with the key. What I mean is, how did you get into my room last night?” When Alastor’s in his room, he makes sure to both lock and latch the door.

“Oh, your shadow let me in.”

A vein throbs in the Radio Demon’s neck. Vox’s fork clatters to his plate. “Which shadow,” Alastor asks even though he suspects he already knows the answer.

Niffty smiles. “The one that looks like you,” she answers.

Alastor’s eyes go from dials to normal, to dials again, then to voids before they shift back to normal. “Splendid,” he says louder than intended. He picks up his fork, spears the entire stack of pancakes, throws his head back, unhinges his jaw in a grotesque manner, and tosses them inside. He swallows them whole, stabs the fork into the center of the plate where it goes through and embeds into the table underneath. “Breakfast was delicious. I must excuse myself.” Alastor pushes his chair back and stands. He stalks toward the stairs.

He senses he’s being followed and sees Vox trailing behind. “I don’t think you can kill a shadow,” the TV demon attempts at a joke.

“Oh, I’m not going to kill it,” Alastor retorts as he climbs the stairs. “I’m going to banish it for a bit. I have no idea where this rebelliousness is coming from, but I will not stand for it.”

Vox considers this. “You think Niffty saw us?”

“Of course, she saw us.”

“You think she’ll use what she saw against you? Against us?”

Alastor lets out a sharp bark of laughter. “Niffty? No, no, no, no. Now, if it were Husker, I’d say yes, but not Niffty. No, she’ll use what she saw for something…different.” Alastor shudders.

“Different, how?”

“Let’s just say that Niffty’s probably feeling quite inspired by what she witnessed last night.”

“That doesn’t really answer—”

“You!” Alastor shouts and throws open his door. His doppelganger looks up at his dramatic entrance and tilts its head quizzically. “I suppose you feel pretty proud of yourself, hmm?”

The shadow starts to glide away, but Alastor makes a harsh motion with his hand and the shadow finds itself yanked in front of the Radio Demon. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately,” Alastor growls, “But I suggest you work it out of your non-existent system because it’s growing tiresome.”

His doppelganger hisses at him.

Alastor’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Did you just hiss at me?” he sputters. “Well, that just won’t do! Away with you!” With a swipe of his hand, he banishes his shadow. Alastor rubs his temples and flops down on the couch. What in the world was happening with his shadow?  It’s never acted this way before.

Vox drops down next to him. “I can’t believe you put your shadow in time out.”

“It’s necessary,” Alastor tells him. “What if word got out that I had a summon that refused to obey me?”

Vox hmm’s at that. “Well,” he says. “Technically, it hasn’t disobeyed you. Sure, it’s been acting out, but it hasn’t been doing anything that goes against you. If anything, it seems to be trolling you.”

Alastor turns his head and looks at the TV demon.

Vox sighs. “Oh, right.” He takes a moment to think. “Um, trolling is when someone intentionally fucks with you for the sake of fucking with you because they find it funny.”

Alastor squints at Vox. “And you believe that’s what my doppelganger’s doing? What would even be the point of it doing that?”

Vox gives Alastor a disbelieving look. “Oh, come on. Are you serious? Alastor, it’s your shadow. Why do you fuck with people?”

Ah.

Alastor sighs and closes his eyes. He feels Vox give him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Not so much fun being the entertainment, huh?” Vox says.

The Radio Demon cracks open an eye. “To be perfectly frank, I don’t care for it. Not one bit,” he sits up. “I’ll deal with it later.”

“Because it’s always smart to put things off,” Vox says playfully.

Alastor almost gives Vox a teasing poke in the side until he remembers the bandages underneath, so he pokes Vox’s leg instead. “I suppose you’d like to go home,” he says.

Vox’s smile falls. He shrugs. “It’s time,” he says. He tries to sound nonchalant and fails miserably.

Alastor studies him. “Something wrong?”

“Well, usually after a breakup with Tino, I just throw myself into my work,” Vox explains. “That usually keeps me occupied until he cooled off enough to take me back.”

“But?”

Vox shrugs. “I’m not sure what I’ll do once I get back to my tower. I don’t want to bury myself in work if there’s no out. And I don’t want to go post any ‘I’m doing great’ post-break up pics because that’s a fucking lie.” Vox sighs. “My usual stuff is out so I’m kind of lost.”

Alastor doesn’t know what to say. He claps his hand. “How about this,” the Radio Demon throws an arm around Vox’s shoulders. “You go by your tower and then play it by ear? How’s that sound?”

Vox laughs. “Fine.” He feels around his pockets. “Have you seen my phone?”

Alastor’s eye twitches. “Ah, well, yes.” He takes off his monocle and begins cleaning it. “I put it in my wall safe. Didn’t want it growing legs and walking off!”

“Could I have it?”

Alastor nods and goes over to the safe. He really doesn’t want to give Vox the phone, but he can’t think of a valid reason to deny him. He walks back to Vox, and after handing over the device, he sits, and watches Vox scroll through his missed messages.

“Oh, Velvet,” Vox murmurs. “She probably has no idea why I’m ghosting her. Bet Val didn’t tell her what happened either. Fucker. I need to let her know I’m okay.”

Alastor watches as Vox’s face warps from the worried expression he’d been wearing while reading Velvet’s messages to an expression of disbelief to anger before finally settling on a blank mask of indifference.

It appears he’s read the messages from Tino.

Vox’s finger taps away at the phone, and he mutters, “Delete. Trash. Delete. Delete,” over and over to himself. “And consider yourself blocked, fucker.” He shoves the phone into his coat and sits back. He doesn’t say anything and Alastor’s perfectly content to sit there with him in silence. “Thanks for that, by the way,” Vox says after a while.

Alastor turns his head toward the other Overlord. “Hmm?”

“For taking my phone,” Vox says. “I’m glad you took it. If you hadn’t, I probably would have seen his messages and contacted him. He would have made a big show about how sorry he was. Made me feel guilty about even being angry at him. He would have made me feel like everything was my fault in the first place,” Vox continues bitterly. “And I would have taken him back. Everything would be good. He’d be sweet. He’d be good to me—at first. He’s always good to me at first, but soon enough—”

Alastor takes Vox’s hand. “Breathe,” he orders softly.

Vox tries to take a breath, but it comes out as a sob. A blue current of electricity shoots up to the lights overhead. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I can’t get too upset. If I get too upset the power gets weird and I don’t want to cause blackouts. Again.”

“No, don’t apologize. Not for this.” Alastor brings Vox close for another hug not even caring about the threat of electrocution. The TV Demon hugs him back tightly.

“Could we sit here for a minute,” Vox asks. His voice distorts and breaks like a VHS tape being slowed down. “Just until I’m a little calmer? I don’t want your friends to see me like this…”

“You take as long as you need, Vox,” Alastor tells him. “I’m in no hurry.”

When Vox composes himself, they leave Alastor’s room. They’re in the hall heading towards the main stairs when Alastor realizes he’d left the paperwork Niffty brought back in his room. “Give me just a moment,” he tells Vox. Humming, he climbs the steps back to his penthouse to retrieve the forms. It couldn’t hurt to get a little work done, especially if Vox was planning to leave.

Alastor comes to a dead stop when he sees Niffty handing what looks like a stack of bound papers to Vox.

Oh, no. Alastor speed-walks toward Niffty and Vox.

“So, you just want me to read this and tell you what I think,” Vox says. He looks down at the papers. “What’s this about? Is it a script?”

“No,” Niffty says. There’s a big smile on her face as she bounces on her feet. “It’s not a script. It’s an illustrated short story. I was struck by inspiration, and I had to get it out of my system.”

When Vox opens to the first page, Alastor breaks out in a run. “Niffty,” he exclaims as he comes to a stop in front of them both. “While I appreciate your creativity,” he throws a hand over the page that Vox currently reads attempting to block it from view. “I don’t think Vox wants—”

Vox waves a hand. “It’s fine, Alastor,” he says. “Truth be told, this isn’t the first time I’ve gotten someone unsolicited manuscript.” He smiles at Niffty. “Tell you what, let me just give the first few pages a read and I’ll give you my thoughts. Sound good?”

Niffty nods while Alastor shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary,” he laughs wildly. He rips the book from Vox’s hands and sets it on fire with his magic.

Vox looks shocked. “Alastor!”

Niffty looks nonplussed. She reaches down her blouse and produces another copy of her work. She hands it to Vox. Alastor blinks down at her. “How many of those do you have?” he demands.

She grins at him. “Enough,” she answers.

Vox flips to the first page and scans the page.

His mouth falls open as he keeps reading.

Alastor sighs and drags a hand down his face. “As I mentioned earlier, Niffty was probably very inspired by what she saw last night. You’re reading the product of that inspiration.” He leans over to look at the book. “Your illustrations have improved, Niffty.”

“Thanks, Alastor! I’ve been practicing!”

Vox’s eyes move along the pages as he continues to read in silent horror. “This is so graphic and detailed,” he whispers.

“Yes,” Alastor agrees. He has since stopped reading. His mind can only take so much.

Vox makes a choking noise. His gaze bounces between Niffty and the book. “Um,” he says. He takes a few steps away from Niffty and pulls at Alastor’s arm.

“Something wrong,” Alastor asks when they’ve moved a bit further down the hall. Niffty waits at the other end, watching them.

“Yes,” Vox hisses. He opens the book to a full page spread and points. “There!”

Alastor peers at the page. It’s an illustration of Alastor and Vox together in a carnal situation. Niffty has drawn the TV Demon being bent over a table while the Radio Demon looms above. “Yes, I’m unfortunately familiar with Niffty’s work. She wrote a story starring Husker, Angel, and myself. She took it personally when I shredded it. Sulked for days! I had to buy her a new outfit as an apology.”

“No,” Vox says and shakes his head. “There! Look at me!”

Alastor tries very hard not to. The illustration of Vox is very nude. The Radio Demon clears his throat. “Yes, she’s very detailed in her drawings.”

“How does she know about that scar?”

The Radio Demon’s brow furrows in confusion. “What,” he asks.

Vox points to the drawing and lowers his voice. “When I first got Vark, he was shedding his teeth. One of them got in my work chair and I sat on it. It left a scar. No one knows about it. It’s not big and it’s not in a place where most people would see it, you understand? But,” again he points at the illustration. “Niffty drew it!”

Alastor leans closer and looks to where Vox points. There on his upper left thigh right under his buttocks, there’s a tiny scar about the size of a fingernail. “Oh,” he says, dumbfounded.

They look back at Niffty.

She smiles and waves.

Vox’s face lights up with an exclamation point for a split second before returning to normal. “Alastor, how did she—”

Alastor laughs. “Oh, think nothing of it, Vox,” he says waving a hand. “Niffty just made an artistic choice. Nothing more. Pure coincidence.”

Vox looks skeptical. “You’re sure,” he asks. He risks another glance at Niffty only to discover she’s gone.

“Hundred percent,” Alastor assures him. He taps the book. “Nothing to worry about. I mean, other than Niffty’s usual flights of fancy. I just remembered! I need to grab something from the room. Would you mind going ahead without me?” When Vox is no longer in the vicinity Alastor summons two Niffty-sized shadow dolls. “I need you to do another sweep,” he orders with a tired sigh. “If you can fit so can she, so block it off.” The shadows dart off to do his bidding and Alastor heads downstairs.

 Vark whines when the TV Demon attempts to leash him. Vox smiles and gives the shark a rub on his hammerhead. “You want to hang out a bit longer, bud?” he asks. He looks at Charlie. “Would you mind?”

“Are you kidding?” Charlie says with a smile. “Watching him play with Nuggs has been the highlight of my day!” She lowers her voice and whispers, “I should warn you. I think I saw Niffty sewing together a saddle.”

Vox snorts with laughter before turning to Alastor. The Radio Demon smiles at him. “Don’t be a stranger,” Alastor tells him.

“Of course,” Vox replies. He shifts nervously from foot to foot. “I, uh, still owe you for the rescue. I don’t like owing people favors, so I’ll need to pay you back.”

Alastor’s heart sinks a little. He hadn’t helped Vox because he wanted favors. Still, he keeps his tone bright as he says, “Perhaps you can introduce me to that Thai food you kept mentioning and we’ll call it square?”

Vox nods. He bids the rest of the hotel residents a farewell and walks to Charlie’s limo.

Alastor watches him climb inside from the window. When the car drives away the Radio Demon makes his way to the bar. Husk looks him over and silently pours him a drink. Alastor sips on it, lost in thought.

It had been nice having Vox around , he realizes. It was nice being in the company of the TV Demon and not sniping at each other or fighting. Not that it matters. He’ll be back to get Vark and then I’ll never see him again. Sure, they said they would keep in touch, but that was something people always said. Didn’t always work out that way.

“You miss him?”

Alastor looks up and sees Husk watching him. He scoffs and takes a deep drink from his glass. “Hardly,” he says after smacking his lips. “He’s only been gone for, what? A minute?”

Husk levels a stare at him that the Radio Demon can practically feel picking him apart. “Whatever you say, Al.” Husk shrugs. He turns and begins wiping down the bar.

Alastor decides to distract himself with work. If it’s good enough for Vox, then it’s good enough for him. He grabs the paperwork and heads to the office Charlie set up for him downstairs. He takes a seat at his desk and bows his head over the papers.

The paperwork is tedious, but it helps. The Radio Demon loses himself in numbers and needed signatures. The events Charlie wants to plan for her demon rehabilitation are mundane for the most part (although he takes it upon himself to cross out something called Rainbow Immersion Therapy) and should work with the budget she (or Vaggie) has compiled on spreadsheets.

Alastor is looking over the draft of a form that Vaggie submitted. It’s a potential questionnaire they’ll use when checking residents into the hotel. Alastor sees no issue with it other than the font being a bit boring. That was an easy fix.

The Radio Demon has no idea how much time has passed, and he only looks up when he hears a knock on the door. It’s Angel Dust. The spider demon looks troubled. “What seems to be the problem, my effeminate fellow?”

“Vox is back,” Angel says. He looks like he wants to say more, but stops himself. “I think he needs you. He’s kind of upset, but he’s not talking to any of us.”

Alastor jumps to his feet and runs out of the room.

Vox is back. Vox is back and something has gone wrong.

Alastor finds everyone in the living room/hotel lobby. Charlie knelt in front of Vox, the TV Demon sitting silently on the couch. The Princess of Hell gives Vox’s hand a pat.

“Vox,” Alastor calls. He makes his way to the Media Overlord. “Vox?” The TV Demon looks up at the sound of his voice, but doesn’t seem to see him. Alastor puts a hand on Vox’s shoulder. “Vox, please answer me.”

“My tower,” Vox whispers.

Alastor’s ears prick. “Yes,” he presses. “What about your tower?”

Vox says nothing. He sits back and his screen grows black. For a moment, Alastor fears that he’s regressed, but then Vox’s screen shines with light.

         An image of an empty room plays on Vox’s face. Alastor leans forward. “What are we seeing,” he asks.

         “Security footage,” Vox’s voice rings out.

         Alastor looks around himself annoyed when the others crowd around him to watch the footage too.

         The room is empty and if his memory serves him well, Alastor recalls that it’s Vox’s living room.

         The room doesn’t stay empty for long.

         Valentino walks into frame, tall and imposing. The moth demon strolls over to a door and opens it slowly. There’s no sound, but Alastor can see Valentino’s mouth move. The Overlord takes out his gun and holds it behind his back as he walks into the room.

Alastor’s blood runs cold. He recognizes the room that Valentino just entered.

A few seconds pass and Valentino walks back into view, visibly enraged. He storms around the room, shooting at Vox’s appliances and furniture. He moves to the next room, a room with walls of television screens and other technology that the Radio Demon barely recognizes. Valentino begins smashing up the room. He pulls televisions off the wall and kicks through the screens. He takes Vox’s chair and throws it against the wall. He drives a spiked heel into Vox’s computers.

The security footage switches and follows Valentino as he travels throughout Vox’s home and destroys everything.

“Oh no,” Charlie moans. “Vox, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s my fault,” Vox says. On his face, Valentino rips apart his clothes and stabs at his bed. “I never got a chance to flag him in my security system. I thought I had more time to change the locks.”

“Would it be difficult to replace the items he’s destroyed?” Charlie asks.

Vox begins to shake. “I don’t care about the stuff! It can all be replaced!” The TV Demon reaches for Vark. The sharkdog lopes over to him and nuzzles his hands. “You’re safe,” he whispers to his pet.

“What was in that room?” Angel asks. He points. “Val looked super pissed when he came back out. What did he see?”

“I suspect that it’s what he didn’t see that riled his temper,” Alastor responds. He casts a sad look at Vox who has wrapped his arms around his beloved shark. “That’s the room where Niffty and I found Vark.”

Vox hugs Vark harder and the Radio Demon can’t blame him. Valentino, his spurned lover, had come to his home with the desire to hurt his beloved pet. Vark knew Valentino. He recognized the Overlord. If called, he would have gone to Valentino, not knowing that the Moth Demon held a gun behind his back. Not knowing that he and Vox were on the outs. Vark would have come because he was a friendly, loving animal.

“Charlie,” Alastor says. “Would it be possible to house Vox and Vark here? Until they’ve managed to clean up the damage and update his security?”

“Of course! We have so many empty rooms! You can just pick the one you like the best, Vox.” She takes the Overlord by the hand and pulls him to his feet.

Vox doesn’t look enthused by the prospect of staying in the hotel, but he lacks options, so he just nods and allows the princess to lead him upstairs. Vark follows obediently picking up on his owner’s distress and wanting to stay near.

Alastor watches them go. He claps his hands. “Well, I think that this is the perfect opportunity to go for a walk. Angel Dust and Husk, join me.”

Husk’s head snaps toward him. “You don’t usually bring me on one of your, um, walks.”

Alastor gives the winged cat demon a closed lip smile. “It’s not that sort of walk, Husker,” he assures him.

Husk looks as if he has more questions, but knows better than to ask them. Angel Dust has no idea what’s going on, but he shrugs and comments that he could use a little fresh air. Niffty appears at Alastor’s side and looks up at him expectantly. “Do you want me to come,” she asks.

Alastor shakes his head. He gets down on one knee and places a hand on Niffty’s shoulder. “I need you here for Vox,” he informs her, “In case anything goes awry.” Vox is stronger than Niffty, of course, but the Overlord isn’t in the right headspace.

Niffty salutes. “I’ll do my best,” she promises.

“Splendid. Come along, along you two.”

Alastor leads the way as they make their way downtown. He has many things on his mind at that moment. The other two demons follow him in relative silence, but he can hear them whispering to each other.

Finally, Husk speaks up. “Alastor, where are we going?”

“Vox’s tower,” the Radio Demon answers.

“What?” Husk starts cursing. “Why didn’t we drive there? Are we really going to walk?”

Alastor comes to an abrupt stop. He turns and smiles at his thrall. “Well, I thought it was a lovely chance for the three of us to bond. We spend so little time together.” He raises a hand and Husk immediately realizes his mistake. “But if you’re in such a rush…”

“Wait, Alastor! No! No! Not the void! Anything but the void!”

Too late.

Alastor snaps his fingers, and a dark portal opens beneath their feet. Alastor takes a reclining position as the three of them freefall through the void. Angel and Husk spend the entire time flailing and screaming. When he’s sure they’re approaching their destination, Alastor rights himself and summons his microphone cane. The void drops them in front of Vox’s tower. Angel and Husk land in an ungraceful pile while Alastor sticks a perfect landing. He brushes off his shoulders and waits patiently as the other two get to their feet. Angel Dust doubles over and vomits. Husk tries to fight the urge, but soon he’s leaning over and vomiting as well. Alastor can’t hide the amusement on his face. “Shall we go inside?”

“Fuck…you…” Husker says between dry heaves.

Alastor shrugs and goes on without them. The glass door has a massive hole in it, the hatches housing Vox’s weapon system have been melted shut. The Radio Demon narrows his eyes and steps through the hole.

The first thing he notices is that there’s water on the floor, his shoes slosh through it as he walks. Alastor conjures a ball of flames to provide a little illumination.

The lobby of the first floor is a mess. Alastor walks about until he’s found the source of the water. It would seem Valentino turned on the faucets in the bathrooms and plugged the sinks.

So childish, Alastor thinks with a dismissive sniff and grips his cane.

Vox’s penthouse is on the sixth floor. Alastor could take the elevator, but he needs to see if there’s any additional damage. He melds into the shadows and uses them to teleport to each floor. Floors 2-4 house various technologies that Alastor didn’t know the names of or what they did, but he assumed they must be important because Valentino took the time to destroy them.

The fifth floor has meeting rooms and Vox’s office. Vox’s office has walls of televisions and computer screens, a large steel desk, and a dark swivel high backed swivel chair. Both the desk and chair are positioned in the center of the room on a sort of podium. Alastor imagines that Vox chose that location because it would allow him to turn his chair to whatever screen he needed to view. The Media Overlord also has three monitors on his desk. All the screens have been smashed and some have been torn from the walls. Alastor picks one up and tries not to think about how much it resembles Vox’s head. His thumb traces the crack that splits through the screen. He places it back gently onto the floor and moves on to Vox’s penthouse.

Alastor finds himself standing in about three inches of water. He walks to Vark’s kennel/playroom. The demon shark’s tank is broken, and the water has flooded out into the rest of the space. Alastor sneers, suspecting that Valentino had probably doubled back to complete this last petty act.

“Holy shit!”

With a sigh, Alastor leaves Vark’s room to find Angel and Husk standing in the middle of the living room in front of the elevator. “How nice of you to join me,” Alastor tells them. He quirks an eyebrow. “How did you know where to find Vox’s apartment?”

Angel Dust shrugs. He scowls as he sloshes through the water. “Val brought me here a couple of times. Business parties and whatnot. I had to look pretty while Vox wined and dined clients. Wasn’t too bad. Those rich fucks tipped surprisingly well, and I didn’t even have to do much. Just sit on their laps, laugh at their jokes, and let them grope me. Easier than some of my other gigs.”

Husk looks over at Angel. “Too bad you couldn’t rope one into being your sugar daddy. You could have done well.”

Angel laughs. “No way. Do I look like I’d want to be someone’s kept woman? I’ve got standards. Besides,” he says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “None of those fuckers were my type.”

“Oh? And what’s your type?”

“Oh, you know,” Angel gives Husk a teasing smile. “Gruff older men who drink too much, like to gamble, and always look like the world pissed in their eye.”

The corner of Husk’s mouth twitches in a smile. “Is that right? I think I might know a guy. How do you feel about excessive body hair?”

“Oh, I love it. Especially if he has a tail.”

Alastor sighs loudly. “If the two of you are done,” he glares back at them.

Angel looks around. “What exactly are we doing here, Smiles?”

“I wanted to see the extent of the damage in person,” Alastor tells him. It was worse than he expected. His hands clench into fists and he stares at nothing as blood pumps in his ears.

Alastor startles when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Angel looks down at him with concern. “No,” he says firmly.

Alastor blinks in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“You think I don’t know what’s going on in your head? This ain’t your fault, Smiles.” Angel tells him.

He knows that. He truly does but…

“I antagonized him.” Alastor murmurs.

“Okay. I mean, yeah, you did,” Angel agrees, “but this Valentino we’re talking about. He was always going to try to find a way to hurt Vox, especially once he realized that he wasn’t going to take him back. Valentino is a bastard.”

Alastor hums in agreement. Husk tsks and shakes a foot. “So, what now?” he asks. “Are you going to escalate this or let it go?”

The Radio Demon’s eyes flash. “Well, I’m certainly not going to ‘let it go,’ Husker. That’s utter nonsense! No, no, no! Valentino needs to be properly educated about how things work now.”

Husk sighs. “Al, you’re talking about going to war with another Overlord. Are you sure—”

Alastor surges forward and grabs the cat demon by the furred scruff on his chest. He leans forward, eyes alight with anger. “Tell me, Husker. Did I ask for your opinion?” The expression on his face looks especially menacing. “Valentino purposely sought a way to hurt Vox. He wanted to murder Vox’s pet. He destroyed his home. Am I just supposed to stand by and do nothing? Like you do nothing regarding Angel’s treatment?”

Husk shoves him away. “Oh no, you fucking don’t!” He pokes a claw into Alastor’s chest and snarls, “You think I didn’t want to do something about what was happening to Angel? Don’t you stand there and pretend that you weren’t the person keeping me from going down to that studio and ripping Valentino a new asshole. You were the one who said it wasn’t ‘top priority.’ Now you expect me to drop everything and go to fucking war for you? You didn’t care when it was Angel, but I’m supposed to give two shits because it’s someone you care about? Fuck. You.”

Alastor slaps away the claw jabbing him the chest. He snarls in the cat demon’s face, eyes black voids. Husk’s pupils narrow to slits and he snarls right back.

There’s a ding as the elevator doors open. Four Sinner demons exit the elevator, laughing and joking amongst themselves. They come to a stop when they see the trio standing there. The lead demon, a Sinner with pupilless white eyes and mandibles steps forward. “Hey,” he shouts. “You assholes can’t be in here! We called dibs! If anybody’s lootin’ this place it’s us , so fuck off!”

Alastor slowly turns to face the group of Sinners and lashes out without a single word. The attack happens so fast that he’s not even sure they felt any pain before their deaths.

Pity.

Blood and gore drips from his claws. Alastor closes his eyes and breathes in deeply.

“Feel better,” Angel asks, sweetly.

Alastor hesitates. He nods.

“Good. I’m going to have a look around. You two sort out your shit before I get back.” Angel Dust walks off in the direction of Vox’s bedroom.

Alastor and Husk stand in awkward silence.

“I…apologize, Husker,” Alastor finally says. “You’re right. I should have allowed you to intervene on your lover’s behalf.”

Husk folds his arms across his chest. “Yeah, well. Apology accepted, I guess. Look, I care about Angel. A lot. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. I can’t pretend to understand what goes on in that antlered head of yours, but I can understand this. Valentino hurt Vox. He hurt him bad, and you want to make him pay. I can get behind that.”

Alastor smiles softly at the grumpy old sourpuss. “Thank you, Husker,” He pauses and adds, “For…everything. I don’t think I express my gratitude to you enough.”

Husk looks shocked, but he plays it off. “Whatever,” he mutters and pulls down the brim of his hat. “Look, just be a little less of an asshole and we can call it square, okay?”

“No promises.”

Husk laughs, “Why am I not surprised?”

Angel reappears, winding a black cord around his upper left wrists. When he sees the two demons acting amicably, he gives a satisfied nod. “Good. You’re both alive.”

“What is that,” Alastor points at the cable.

“It’s Vox’s charger,” Angel says. “The guy’s had a tough couple of days. He’s a tech demon so I think a dead phone would make things worse. It may seem small, but sometimes it’s the little things that help.”

Alastor nods. “Perhaps we can grab some things for Vark? Toys? Treats?”

Angel scratches at his cheek. “I’m not really sure about where Vox kept all his pet stuff, but we can look around.” He looks at his feet. “I lucked out with the charger, but there’s a good chance that Valentino ruined Vark’s stuff by breaking his tank.”

Alastor’s heart sinks. “We need to make an attempt.”

Angel Dust and Husk go to look in Vark’s room and Alastor moves to the kitchen.

Everything about Vox’s penthouse is sleek and modern. The kitchen is no different with its stainless steel appliances, marble countertops with blue LED light strips. Alastor opens the fridge. He jumps back as bright green liquid pools out. Valentino apparently took the time to both unplug the fridge and puncture every can of Vox’s energy drinks that lined the top shelf.

Petty, Alastor thinks with a tsk. He closes the door and moves on. Alastor pokes around the cabinets. His eyes widen at the sight of an object in the cabinet above the sink. Using his telekinesis, the Radio Demon lifts it out of the cabinet and into his arms.

         “Look what we got!” Angel Dust yells. He and Husk walk back to Alastor holding a 5lb bag of Yum! Yum! Shark Food (Trust Yum! Yum! to Feed Pets with Sensitive Tum-Tums!) and a few chew toys. “Vark’s going to lose his fishy little mind!”

         “The hell is that?” Husk nods at what Alastor’s holding.

         Alastor holds his treasure closer. “This, dear Husker, is a Moka pot! It’s for making coffee! I can’t believe Vox has one!” He nuzzles the aluminum coffee pot against his cheek.

         Angel and Husk don’t look impressed. “Looks a little battered,” Angel comments.

         The Radio Demon tsk and wags a finger. “Well-loved, Angel,” Alastor corrects. His smile stretches. “I’m bringing this with us. It’s as you said, it’s the little things.” He summons a small pocket space and warps the Moka pot away. He doesn’t see any coffee, but Alastor vows to get the TV Demon a fresh bag.

         Angel shrugs and hefts the bag. “Well,” he says. “If that’s all we should get going—”

         The elevator dings.

         Alastor’s good mood sours. With a growl he storms forward, ready to end the lives of whatever fools stand behind the doors.

         Imps scamper out of the elevator. “Whoa,” a male Imp says, wearing a tattered pair of coveralls. “Who are you guys?”

         A tiny female Imp with a bob cut and an oversized paint splattered hoodie lets out a wail. “Are we too late? Did he already give the job to someone else?”

         An Imp wearing carpenter jeans and an oversized flannel shirt growls. “This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t drive like a grandma, Tipper!”

“Fuck you,” the one named Tipper replies. They reach into their jacket and pull out a pack of beef jerky and begin snacking. “My grandma’s car has broken the sound barrier!”

“Who are you?” Alastor demands. He’s got no patience for these Imps.

Coveralls Imp steps forward and leans against Alastor’s legs. “Well, we’re Bapper & Co! We handle cleaners and installation!”

“And occasionally we paint!” Hoodie Imp says and waves her sleeves.

“Why are you here?” Alastor asks through clenched teeth, his patience thinning.

“Well, not that it’s your business,” Bapper (or so Alastor assumes) says. He buffs his claws against his bib, “We got hired to clean this tower.”

         “I’m going to install so many windows!” Tipper whispers and hops from foot to foot. “Look at this place! It’s practically all windows!”

         “This is a big job,” Bapper agrees. He leans his head back to look up at Alastor. “Who in Satan’s name are you?”

         Alastor glares down at him. “Is that a serious question?”

         Hoodie Imp squeaks and skitters forward. “Bapper,” she stage-whispers. “I think that’s the Radio Demon!”

         Bapper looks Alastor up and down. “Nah,” he says with a snort. He pokes Alastor in the knee. “Ain’t no way. You telling me the Radio Demon is a looter?”

         Alastor sends the Imp flying with a well-placed kick. “Stop touching me,” he snarls. “And we’re not looting. Vox is staying at our hotel while you take care of his home.”

         “Oh,” Tipper says. They look around. “Did you do this?”

         “Absolutely not,” Alastor snaps. “This is the result of Vox’s disgruntled ex.”

         “Oh no,” Hoodie Imp says. She gecko walks up the wall and across the ceiling until she’s above what remains of the looters. She drops down and lands on them. “Did the disgruntled ex leave these bodies here too?”

         Alastor hides his bloodied hands behind his back. “Yes,” he deadpans. “Yes, he did.”

         “Well, it doesn’t matter who made the mess!” Bapper exclaims. He strikes a pose and continues, “Because we’ve been hired to clean it! Tipper, go get shop vac! We need to get this water up! Simsam, start measuring the windows! We got six floors that need work. Viraliza, inventory every smashed item on the property in need of replacement. An Overlord hired us, let’s get this shit done!”

         Tipper bounds over to the elevator and frantically presses the down button. Simsam, the Imp in the carpenter jeans and flannel scales the walls. He pulls out a roll of measuring tape and begins to measure the windows. Viraliza, the Imp in the hoodie hops up to Bapper. “Am I going to get to paint?”

         Bapper gives her a pat on the head. “Maybe! The day’s still early.” He claps his hands and turns to Alastor. “Well, if you folks don’t mind. We got a lot of work to do, so kindly vacate yourselves from the property so we can get shit done.”

         Husk takes hold of Alastor’s left arm and Angel grabs the right when it becomes apparent that the deer demon is about to launch himself at the oblivious Imp. Viraliza sprints up to them and tugs on Alastor’s coattail. “Um, Mr. Alastor the Radio Demon, sir?” her large yellow eyes glitter. “I’m a big fan of you and your show!” She reaches into the front pocket of her hoodie and pulls out a small notebook. “If it’s not too much trouble? Could I have your autograph?”

         Alastor composes himself and beams down at the delighted Imp woman. “Who should I make it out to?” Alastor frees his arm from Angel.

         “Eee! Viraliza, sir!”

         Alastor scrawls:

To Viraliza, my biggest fan.

Hope this puts a smile on your face.

♡ Alastor

And he finishes it with a little doodle of his smiling face.

         Viraliza puts the notebook back into her hoodie with reverence. “Thank you,” she whispers, trembling.

         Alastor gives her a wink and the Imp begins hyperventilating.

         Angel rolls his eyes. “Easy there, Casanova. Let’s get out of here before you make the poor girl cream herself.”

         They ride the elevator back down. When they get to the main lobby, they’re shocked to see even more Imps running about, carrying away piles of trash, vacuuming up water, and taking notes. Bapper and Co. was a much more extensive company than Alastor had given them credit for.

         “Well, what now?” Angel asks once they’re outside.

         “Now?” Alastor turns to the spider demon. He points at Angel Dust and says, “We find a way to respond accordingly to Valentino’s actions. A little tit for tat, as they say.” He strokes his chin in deep thought. “Angel, you’re familiar with Valentino’s business, correct?”

         Angel Dust shrugs. “Depends on what you wanna know,” he replies.

         Alastor’s eyes glow. “I want you to provide me with a list of Valentino’s five newest properties. The more money he poured into their construction the better.”

         Angel looks surprised before a grin spreads over his face. “I like where this is heading,” the spider demon chortles. “If I may make a suggestion?”

         “You may.”

         “Val has this place downtown. Real nondescript from the outside, but it’s where he puts all the mooks responsible for keeping track of his money. Real scumbags, too. Whenever Val wanted to reward them for a good job, he’d send me.” Angel hugs himself and lowers his eyes. “Now don’t get me wrong, Val would still be swimming in money even if that place disappeared, but he’d definitely be pissed. Especially since a lot of his financial records are housed there. Records of who to bribe, who he’s already bribed, and whatnot.”

         Husk blinks at his boyfriend. “How do you know all that?”

         Angel shrugs. “Like I said, Val sent me there a bunch of times as a reward. One of them was particularly chatty post-nut, if ya get my meaning.”

         “Disgusting,” Alastor says cheerily, “But very helpful. That building shall definitely be on the list. Any others? Particularly those with the least amount of employees present.”

         Husk looks at the Radio Demon skeptically. “Since when do you get squeamish at the idea of killing people, Al?”

         Alastor looks insulted. “Husker! And here I thought you knew me better! I don’t just kill all willy-nilly! Besides, these poor people are about to have their days ruined once I remove their places of employment. I don’t need to make it any worse by taking away their lives.” He reaches over and gives Husk’s cheek an aggressive pinch. “Honestly, use that rum-soaked brain of yours sometimes, Husk!”

         Husk bats away his hand. “Whatever,” the cat demon mutters. “So, I guess we’re taking out those places?”

         “Indeed,” Alastor nods. “Angel, would you be able to get in contact with that explosive ladened friend of yours?”

         Angel nods enthusiastically. “Cherri? Hell yeah! Oh man, I bet she’d love to stick it to Val! Hang on, let me give her a call.” He reaches into his fluff and pulls out a cell phone.

         “Before you call her, would you mind telling me the address of the building filled with Valentino’s money men?” Alastor inquires. “I figure we can get that one out of the way first.”

         After Angel Dust tells him the location, Alastor summons his shadow and shadow moppets. The doppelganger stares sulkily at the Radio Demon towering over the other summons. Alastor gives its cheek a pat. “Now, now,” Alastor says soothingly. “I know you’ve been bored. Acting as a guard and protector isn’t really in your usual wheelhouse and for that I’m sorry. However, I have a way to make it up to you.” Alastor leans closer to his shadow and gives it a sharp-toothed smile. “No survivors,” he instructs.

         The shadow’s grin grows feral as it and the other shadow summons meld into an inky pool. They travel using the darkness of alleys and under cars, eager to reach the location that Alastor has relayed to them.

         The deer demon watches them go with a sense of pride. “One down,” he says cheerily. “We’ll each take one.”

         “Sounds good,” Angel says. “Cherri’s game, by the way. So other than that business building, here’s some other places we can hit.”

         Angel tells them of four potential targets, new constructions that Valentino has special interest in.

         “He’s got that new club 66th,” Angel explains. “Real artsy place,” he waves a hand and rolls his eyes. “I think he’s hoping to attract some classier clientele than what he usually gets. He’s also got a new strip club in the Diamond District complete with new hires. Cherri’s already called dibs on Club 666 Redux, cuz she feels like Val rebuilt the old club just to spite her. He bought this dance club on Harlequin Ave. I think he’s going to use it as a testing ground for some of his new drugs.”

         Alastor hums as he soaks in this intel. “Husk, you take the dance club. Angel, you may destroy the strip club, and I will go to the artsy club. No killing unless you’re attacked first. I don’t want to explain to Charlie why our walk turned into a bloodbath. We’ll meet back at the hotel once we’ve finished.”

         Alastor enjoys his stroll to the building that Angel dubbed ‘artsy.’ Truthfully, it does look a bit different to Valentino’s usual style. The Velour Honeycomb (Alastor squints up at the sign) is a two-story building in an art nouveau style so unlike typical Hellish architecture. The building’s roof is patterned with purple, green, and blue that give it the semblance of glittering fish scales. The building’s four balconies are shaped to resemble porcelain masks. Its cream-colored façade is decorated with purple and black moth wings trailing down the building in a wave. If this place had been owned by anyone other than Valentino, Alastor would have marveled at its beauty.

         Unfortunately, it needs to be destroyed.

         Alastor walks inside and  is greeted by a Sinner demon waitress with pale white skin, green feline eyes, and waist-length lilac hair. She wears a floor-length ivory gown cinched with a teal belt and flower crown made of white roses. Alastor spares a look around the club and sees that the theme of this club seems to be ethereal and faerie. Lots of staff members dressed in ivory gowns, flimsy gauzy skirts, and crowns of roses. The Radio Demon can see what Angel meant by Valentino hoping for a classier sort of clientele. The Velour Honeycomb seems to have a dress code. “May I help you sir,” the Sinner demoness sashays her way toward him. “I’m—”

         Alastor holds up a hand. “Wasting your time,” he finishes for her. He brushes past her and makes his way to the center of the room. He summons his microphone and gives it a tap. “Ladies and Gentle-demons! If I could have your attention! I am Alastor,” he bows, “Some of you may know me better by my moniker: the Radio Demon.” He chuckles when he hears some gasps in the crowd. “Yes, hello. Now, I like to think of myself as a sporting fellow, so I wanted to be upfront. I’m here to destroy this building. It belongs to a man who has made himself my enemy. I will tear this building down to its last brick. That goes without saying. Please exit the building before I do so. If you’re still within the building I will take it as you voluntarily forfeiting your life.” Alastor’s eyes blaze. “This is your first, last, and only warning. You have two minutes.”

         The demons – staff and clients alike – spill from the building like rats leaving a sinking ship. Alastor’s announcement has played throughout the entirety of the Velour Honeycomb. He hears people on the upper floors scream as they throw themselves over the balconies.

         Alastor checks his pocket watch. Two minutes exactly.

         Humming to himself, Alastor picks up a glass and breaks it against the table. He picks up one of the shards and presses it into his palm until he draws blood. He frees the tentacles from the void. One of them slithers forward and Alastor gives it a gentle caress. “Go forth,” the Radio Demon tells it, “And destroy. Leave nothing standing.”

         Alastor walks outside, singing softly to himself. Behind him, he can hear the tentacles smashing and breaking apart Valentino’s club. He manifests a chair and takes a seat, watching as the tentacles shove their way through the walls and roof. The Radio Demon leans to his left as a stray brick whizzes past. It takes half an hour, but the Velour Honeycomb finds itself pulled apart and dragged into the depths of the void.

         Alastor gets to his feet and brushes himself off. Where Valentino’s club once stood is now a crater. Task complete, the Radio Demon begins his trek back to the Hazbin Hotel, his ever-present smile even brighter than usual.

         Alastor finds that both Angel and Husk have beat him back to the hotel which he finds odd. He makes mention of it, and they exchange looks.

         “We didn’t find the need to go as big and flashy as you,” Angel tells him. “Apparently, Val hasn’t told anybody about my ‘employment change of status’,” Angel makes finger quotes, “Because they just let me walk right in.” He smiles and continues, “I walked straight to the cellar, broke a few pipes, broke open a gas main, then went upstairs, flirted with some guys in security so they didn’t know I disconnected the sprinkler system, and left there to plug up all the toilets so they overflowed whenever anybody tried to use the johns. By the time I left, the place was flooding with shit and piss, and someone was muttering about going down to the basement for a smoke.” Angel Dust leans against the wall and gives the Radio Demon a prideful smile. “I stayed long enough to watch the fireworks.”

         Alastor looks disapprovingly at the spider demon. “What did I say about keeping casualties to a minimum?”

         Angel shrugs. “Look, I get it. I really do. But sometimes you gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet. Besides, those were all environmental deaths. Can’t be blamed on me.”

         When Angel Dust turns his back, Alastor slides his gaze to Husk. The winged cat demon’s back stiffens and Alastor can see the fur begin to rise. The meaning of his gaze is clear:

         I know he’s new but get him under control. Or else.

         “Well,” Alastor says with a clap of his hands. “All and all, mission successful. Let’s go inside. Why, I’m absolutely famished!”

         The three of them are greeted by the sight of Vaggie waiting for them in the lobby. The moth demoness stands when she sees them and walks in their direction.

         Alastor’s never one to panic, but he is curious to see what Vaggie wants. “Ah, Vagatha,” the Radio Demon greets. “So lovely to see you. What seems to be the reason for that consternated look on your face?”

         Vaggie looks at him, directly. “Look, I just wanted to give you a head’s up.” She pauses and Alastor sees a most amazing thing:

         Vaggie blushes.

         “My, my, my,” Alastor leans down and gets an inch from her face. “Your face is almost as crimson as my hair! This won’t do! We only have room for one scarlet devil in this hotel!” he pokes a claw at her cheek.

         Vaggie bats away the offending digit. “Quit being an asshole,” she snarls. Vaggie huffs and averts her eye. “Look, I just wanted to let you know (even though I’m regretting it now) that Niffty shared her latest work with Charlie and…” here Vaggie grimaces. “She’s behind it. One hundred percent.”

         Alastor tilts his head to the side, confused. His confusion only grows when both Husk and Angel Dust erupt with laughter. He turns to look at his thralls. “Well, don’t keep me in the dark,” Alastor says. “What’s so funny? You must share the joke.”

         Husk grins at him and Alastor has an urge to take a step back because he’s not used to seeing that expression on Husker’s face. Husk grabs Angel’s upper hands and begins to sway with him. “Matchmaker, Matchmaker, make me a match,” he croons in his gravelly voice. “Find me a find! Catch me a catch.” He and Angel sputter with fresh laughter.

         Alastor tries not to let his annoyance show. “And what exactly does that mean,” he demands. The Radio Demon finds he doesn’t really care for being the butt of the joke. Especially when he’s not even in on the joke.

         Angel Dust attempts to ruffle his hair good-naturedly, but Alastor’s neck snaps back at an unnatural angle and speed. Angel continues nonplussed, “It means Char-Char has hopped aboard the S.S. Alastor slash Vox. Or would it be Vox slash Alastor?” Angel taps his chin in pretend thought. “Alavox? Voxalastor?”

         Alastor feels like he’s losing his mind. “What does that mean?” he demands. “What does any of that mean?”

         Vaggie gives him a sympathetic look. “It means you have my condolences,” she says glumly.

         What?!

         Before he can grab someone—anyone—by their shirts and violently shake them, Charlie comes twirling into the room. “Oh, Alastor,” she sings. “I thought I heard your voice.” Charlie skips over to him and directs a sunshine-filled smile in his direction.

         Alastor suppresses the urge to flee. “Hello, Charlie,” he says and mentally pats himself on the back for not stammering.

         Charlie stares at him for a moment with that same smile on her lips and twinkle in her eyes. “I just thought you should know that Vox picked out his room.”

         “Oh? That’s nice. Well, I—”

         “Yep! I convinced him to take one of the rooms closest to yours.” Charlie lowers her voice to a whisper. “Just in case you ever feel the urge to come downstairs to hang out or have late night talks about any unresolved secret feelings you may have for one another.” Charlie gives him an exaggerated wink.

         Oh!

         Oh…

         Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

         Alastor looks behind him. Vaggie is giving him that same sympathetic look from earlier. Husk and Angel are leaning against one another and shaking with stifled laughter. “Ha!” Alastor’s laugh is as brittle as his current grasp of reality. “Well, now that Vox and I are on good terms, I dare say we’ll have lots of friendly conversations as one does with friends who are friends.” Alastor’s gaze burns into Charlie.

         Charlie smile only seems to grow in its intensity. She hooks her arm with Alastor and begins to walk with him. The Radio Demon digs his heels into the floor, but he’s surprised when the princess just keeps pulling him along. “You know what we should do? We should go say hi! I bet Vox would love to know you’re back! He’s been in his room since you left.” Charlie chatters away, unaware of the irritated look on the deer demon’s face as his personal space is invaded. “Niffty went out and grabbed him some stuff on a list, but he hasn’t been out the entire time. I think he’s working. He said he was working. You know what they say though. All work and no play! Oh my gosh! I just realized that the two of you are close enough to have sleepovers! How fun would that be?”

         Alastor doesn’t answer because he’s too busy wondering how badly he needs the arm Charlie currently has gripped in her tiny, iron hands. He sighs. It’s his dominant arm. Damn it.

         Charlie pulls him down the hall until they reach the hall near the very end. Alastor can indeed see the archway of his stairs just a few feet away and he feels the pain of an oncoming headache. Charlie knocks on the door, waits, bounces on her toes, then knocks again. “I’ve knocked,” she calls into the room. “But since you’re not responding I’m asserting my authority as hotel manager and entering to do a welfare check!” She pauses and adds, “Which is a thing I learned I could do this morning!”

         God help us.

         Charlie reaches into her coat pocket, pulls out a key, and uses it to unlock and open the door to Vox’s room. She pulls Alastor inside. She stops short when her eyes adjust to the dim light. “Oh,” she says slowly. “He’s been busy.”

         Alastor takes in the room. Like Alastor, Vox has discovered that he can manipulate the space within the room, warping it to what he needs and wants.

         Thick cables snake across the floor meeting at the center of the room. They twist and bend into the shape of a throne with a back that reaches to the room’s ceiling. The walls are lined with television screens.

No. That’s not quite right.

The television screens grow out of the walls like bulbous glass eyes. They stretch up and up, far further than they have any right to and when Alastor looks up, he can’t seem to find a ceiling at all. These multiple screens seem to act as the main light source for the room. Commercials, sitcoms, music videos, the news, hell-a-novelas, and documentaries play on the screens, the chaos of the noise grates against their ears with the gentleness of steel wool.

“V-Vox?” Charlie takes careful steps toward the chair-like knot of cables and wires. When she almost trips and goes sprawling, Alastor grabs her by the arm and keeps her steady. “Thanks,” she tells him.

But he’s not looking at her. He’s looking at Vox.

The Media and Technology Overlord sits in his throne. Next to his feet, there’s a case of energy drinks. Of the twelve cans, six have already been consumed and lie empty on the floor. Vox’s tie is undone around his neck, his coat and hat tossed to the side. The front of his shirt has been unbuttoned to Alastor’s great surprise. The room is so cold that they can see their breath.  Vox sits with his back straight in his chair, elbows on the armrests, fingers steepled. Alastor could almost call the position meditative, if not for the wrongness of it. Vox’s face mirrors the images and shows playing on the televisions on the wall. They flash over his screen in a rapid chain as Vox takes in the information he needs before moving on to something new.

         “Vox?” Charlie tries once more.

         He doesn’t seem to hear them. He doesn’t seem to know they’ve entered his room.

         Alastor swallows. This is his first time seeing Vox work, so he’s not sure if what he’s seeing is normal.

         He did say he likes to throw himself into work after a breakup.

         “He’s been like this the whole time?” Alastor looks over at Charlie. The princess’s hand hovers above Vox’s shoulders like she wants to reach out, but can’t bring herself to do it.

         “I – I guess? He must have started on his room the second I left,” she murmurs. Charlie looks around. “I’m all for encouraging creativity when it comes to interior design, but I would really prefer we adhere to the laws of physics.” Charlie places her hand on Vox’s shoulder and gives him a gentle shake. “Vox?”

         “I’m working.”

         Both Charlie and Alastor startle at the sound. The words come from all around them, from multiple speakers that they can’t seem to find. The word “working” cascades across the screens in a wave before they return to their previous images. The voice is Vox’s but not really. It’s more mechanical, more synthesized. Years ago, Alastor had come across a child using a Speak and Spell toy (before his mother saw him coming and promptly yanked the child away) and Vox’s words remind the deer demon of that.

         It makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

         “Yes, well,” Charlie tries to keep her voice chipper. “You’ve been working for  quite a while now. Maybe you should take a break?”

         Vox says nothing but a blood red NO appears on his face and the sea of screens.

         Charlie frowns. She puts a hand on her hips. “Maybe Vark would like to go for a walk?”

         The screen to Charlie’s right changes from a cooking show to showing Niffty in the kitchen, humming to herself and wiping down the silverware. Vark sleeps at the foot of the chair the tiny maid perches on. Charlie pouts when she sees it. “Oh,” she says. “Okay, well you should still take a break.” A lightbulb seems to go off in her head because she gives a mischievous smile and quickly adds, “Alastor’s here.”

         The Radio Demon rolls his eyes. Poor delusional woman. Did she honestly think that would—

         One by one the screens power down. An unseen overhead light source cuts on and the room is bathed in white fluorescents. Both Alastor and Charlie flinch in discomfort at the sudden onslaught of light.

         Vox’s face twirls with an hourglass for just a moment before his eyes and mouth reappear, but he doesn’t move.

         “Vox?” Alastor says, voice hesitant.

         The TV Demon’s head turns this way and that, drawn by the sound. “Alastor? Where are you? Give me a minute.”

         “Vox?” Alastor moves to stand before the Media Overlord. He waves a hand in front of Vox’s face, but there’s no reaction. It’s like Vox can’t even see him.

         “Sorry,” Vox mutters. “Just give me – I need a second. Just – hold on.” He groans and squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He reopens them; he jumps back when he discovers Alastor standing directly in front of him. “Holy shit, Alastor! What the hell?”

         “That’s my line,” Alastor shoots back. “What was that just now?”

         Vox rubs the back of his neck. “I was in the data stream. When I’m that deep it takes a second or two for me to come back to myself.”

         Alastor narrows his eyes. He doesn’t know what a data stream is, but the fact that Vox could lose himself to it, didn’t fill him with comfort. “Is it safe for you to do that?”

         Vox hems and haws. He scooches in his seat as if trying to get comfortable. He checks his cufflinks and fiddles with his bow tie.

         He does everything but answer the damn question.

         Alastor places a hand on each of the arm rest. “Vox,” he says through clenched teeth.

         “I was just trying to distract myself. I don’t usually go that deep, I swear.” Vox holds up his hands. “I didn’t even mean to be in there for that long. I was just going to do a routine in and out for a quick data mine, but I got sucked into a rabbit hole of information and time got away from me.”

         “We’re going to pretend I understood any of that,” Alastor snorts. “You need to take care of yourself, Vox.” Alastor stoops and picks up one of the cans. He gives it a sniff. It smelled of sugar and chemicals. “When was the last time you’ve eaten?”

         Vox opens his mouth, but Charlie interjects, “Breakfast,” Charlie frowns at the annoyed look Vox gives her. “Don’t sit there and pretend you weren’t about to lie to him.”

         Vox looks away guiltily and Alastor realizes he had planned to do just that.

         “Well, that settles it,” Alastor takes Vox’s hands and hauls him to his feet. “You need to get something in your belly other than this canned sludge.” He throws an arm around Vox’s shoulders and steers him toward the door. “Have you ever had crawfish etouffee? Not to brag, but I make a damned good etouffee even using what passes for seafood down here. Plus, I think a little time out of your room would do you some good.”

         Vox snorts. He rolls his eyes and mutters, “Well, I wouldn’t have had to spend so long in my room if I didn’t need to scrub security footage because a certain antlered idiot and his cronies decided they wanted to destroy Valentino’s properties!”

         Alastor freezes. Charlie turns slowly face to them. “What’s that,” she asks.

         Alastor pulls his arm from around Vox. He speed-walks to Charlie, scoops her into his arms, carries her to the door, has his shadow open it, and deposits her outside. “Be with you in a moment,” he tells her before shutting the door in her face. Alastor reopens the door and snatches the key from Charlie’s hand just as she pulls it from her pocket. “Privacy, please.” He shuts the door and locks it. With a sigh, Alastor makes his way back to Vox. He slips the key into his pocket and says, “I really wish you had shown a bit more discretion.”

         “Oh, what? Did the princess not know about your little demolition exercise?”

         “As a matter of fact, she didn’t.”

         Vox smirks. “Well, she would have found out about it sooner or later if I hadn’t taken care of the footage.” He stares at Alastor as if waiting. When he gets tired of doing so, Vox sighs. “So, are you going to tell me what that was about?”

         “Hmm?” Alastor tilts his head. “Whatever do you mean?”

         Vox snarls at him. “Don’t play dumb. We both know it doesn’t suit you. Why the fuck would you go around smashing up Valentino’s places like that?”

         Alastor shrugs. “Valentino needed to be educated. I thought the best way to do so was a little exercise in empathy.”

         Up until then, Vox had been listening to the Radio Demon’s explanation with a scowl but that didn’t last long. “Empathy, huh,” Vox says with a knowing grin. “You know there would be some who would say what you did was more in the vein of pettiness than empathy.”

         Alastor spreads his arms in a languid shrug. “Well, never let it be said that I’m above pettiness,” he says, smiling smugly. He summons his cane and leans on it. “I appreciate you covering up my misdeeds. You have a big heart. Who knew?”

         Vox strides over to him and gives the Radio Demon a pat on the head. “Well, I’m always happy to look out for the little guy,” he teases.

         Alastor swats away the other Overlord’s hand, but there’s no malice behind it. “Vox, we are the same height.”

         Vox pretends to think about it. “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I have an inch or two on you.” To prove his point, he makes a show of measuring their height difference with his hand. “See? My antennae make me taller.”

         “By a centimeter, at best,” Alastor retorts. “And that’s only when you’re wearing those ridiculous heels.”

         “Oh, okay. Fuck you,” Vox grins. “I haven’t worn heeled shoes in years, thank you very much. And don’t pretend you didn’t spend the first few years we interacted growing out your antlers to make yourself look bigger. Yeah, I noticed. You only did it around me.”

         Alastor’s cheeks flush. He remembers that. His first interactions with Vox as a newly minted Overlord. The rivalry was so new, but they were determined to prove themselves superior in some way. Vox had been going on and on about McDonald’s and an irritated Alastor had made a passing dig about the Media Overlord’s height. The next time they met Vox was wearing heeled loafers. The following time they met, Alastor would grow out his antlers just a bit to make himself a smidge taller than Vox.

         It was embarrassing thinking back on it.

         “Yes, well,” Alastor coughs twice. “We all did things we weren’t proud of. This isn’t one of them, mind you. No, no. I’m afraid I’m quite proud of the blow I dealt to Valentino.”

         Vox nods. “He’s going to feel that sting. Luckily, it’ll take a while for him to link to you now that I’ve taken care of any nearby cameras.” He grins. “Not like dead demons tell tales, right?”

         Alastor stares at him.

         Vox stares back.

         “Alastor,” Vox says slowly. “Please tell me you didn’t leave survivors.”

         Alastor takes off his monocle and cleans it.

         “Alastor?”

         He pulls out a pocket watch and checks the time.

         “Alastor, are you serious?” Vox looks positively distraught. The TV Demon begins to pace. “Since when do you balk at killing people?”

         Well, that’s not fair. Just because you’re sent to Hell for being a serial killer, people just assume you'll kill anyone. “I was attempting to show restraint,” Alastor protests. “They were going to be jobless, why make their afterlife worse by killing them?”

         “Because they’re witnesses?” Vox screams. “Witnesses who are going to sing like canaries the second Valentino breathes in their direction!”

         The Radio Demon sneers. “And what can that fool do to me,” he snaps.

         “You’re not the only person here, Alastor.” Vox levels a disapproving stare. “And who says he’s going to go after you?”

         Alastor’s face softens. “I won’t let him near you,” he promises.

         Vox holds up a hand. “Flattered,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “But I was talking more along the lines of the other people here. I don’t think the Princess or her lover would appreciate Valentino retaliating against their precious hotel.”

         Alastor opens his mouth to say that Valentino wouldn’t dare show his face here when he’s interrupted by Vaggie pounding on the door and screaming.

         “Alastor? Alastor! I know you’re in there!” the doorknob jiggles violently before a fist resumes banging against wood. “What did you do, you absolute fucker?”

         Vox crosses his arms, but has the good grace not to say, I told you so.

 Alastor sighs, smooths down the front of his coat and makes his way to the door to see what the fuss is about.

Chapter Text

Alastor finds the rest of the hotel residents standing around one of the second floor windows. The Radio Demon dances up to the group. He clicks his heels and summons a top hat so he can doff it. “Good day, chums! What seems to be the humdrum?”

Vaggie doesn’t seemed pleased by his antics. “The humdrum,” she snaps. “He wants to know what the humdrum is about?” Vaggie scowls and points out the window.

Alastor shrugs. The others make space to allow him access to the window. Alastor peers outside to see what the fuss is about.

“Oh,” is all he says.

It appears Valentino has come calling.

The moth pimp is in full demon form. He’s larger than most of the buildings he’s flying over. His mighty wings blot out the light of Hell’s sun. The demon’s coat hangs in shreds from his skeletal lavender form. Spiked barbs grow from out of his fluff. His face twists with rage the second his eyes spot the hotel’s sign. Sharp pink teeth jut from a cavernous mouth that both drips with a black viscous fluid and billows with red smoke. Black and white striped insectoid legs ending in sharp points jut from his sides. His four regular arms have grown to match his body’s new size. Demons on the streets below come outside and stare up at Valentino, lifting their phones to take pictures as he soars past. The moth demon lands on the lawn of the Hazbin Hotel and roars, his call as piercing as metal being scraped against metal.

Alastor opens the window and pokes his head out. “What a shameful display,” he yells at Valentino. “Haven’t you anything better to do?”

Valentino snarls wordlessly at Alastor.

         “Maybe you shouldn’t antagonize him,” Charlie suggests.

Alastor scoffs and waves a hand dismissively. “If this is his best, then why are you standing here cowering? It’s sad. You hear that, Valentino?” he shouts out the window. “You’re just sad!”

Valentino lets loose an ear-splitting screech and takes to the sky.

Alastor smirks. He turns back the group and puts his hands on his hips. “Well, that’s that.”

They look up when the hotel begins to shake. Valentino’s wing flaps buffet the hotel with gusts of wind and they can hear the sound of his screeching. “What’s he doing?” Angel asks.

Alastor buffs his claws against the breast of his coat. “Oh, who cares. Valentino will—”

The front lawn explodes.

The blood drains from Alastor’s face. He grips at the windowsill until it splinters beneath his claws.

“Ho shit,” Angel Dust whispers. “Smiles, is that—?”

It was.

Valentino descends and lands on top of Alastor’s radio station, freshly ripped from the hotel’s side. He throws back his head and roars in triumph.

Husk looks at Alastor who has gone deathly silent. “Al?”

Alastor turns. His eyes have turned to radio dials. “I’m believe I’m needed outside,” he snarls. “He’s gone through all this trouble. Who am I not to give him the attention he’s seeking?”

Charlie moves to block his path. She really needs to deescalate this situation before things got even more out of hand. For crying out loud there, was a radio station on their lawn now! “Okay, Alastor,” Charlie tries to soothe. “I know you’re angry.”

“Oh,” Alastor's voice drops several decibels. “I’m afraid I’ve moved past anger, Charlie my dear.” His bones snap and twist. He drops to all fours and begins to crawl toward the stairs with a preternatural speed. “I’m absolutely livid.”

The deer demon cries out in surprise when he finds his way blocked by a net of wires. Vox stands on the other side, looking at him. “Vox?”

“A moment please, Alastor,” More wires grow from the floor, eschewing the Radio Demon’s view of the TV Demon. “I’ll be right back.”

“Vox? Vox!” Alastor tries to reach through the wires, but they close, creating a wall and blocking his path. “Damn it!” With no other option, Alastor shrinks back to normal and goes back to the window.

Valentino rips apart Alastor’s radio tower, stabbing though the glass with his insectoid legs and using his regular hands to tear off bits and pieces of the building. Valentino hisses with laughter as he works, taking a special joy in tearing apart something Alastor owns. His head turns when he hears the hotel’s front door open.

Vox walks out. Blue electricity arcs through his body as wires and cables sprout from his back like tentacles. “Valentino.”

Valentino snarls as he climbs down from the tower. “Vooooxxx,” Valentino’s purr sounds like stones tumbling into a rock quarry. “This doesn’t concern you. Step aside or—” The moth demon screams as a bolt of electricity hits him dead in the chest.

“Or what, Tino?” Vox begins to double and triple in size. More cables and wires sprout from his back and wrap around his arms and legs. They pull Vox down into their mass until he’s unable to be seen. “Are you going to beat the shit out of me? Shoot me?” The mass of wires bulge as something pushes itself free. “Smash my screen, push me out of your stupid limo while it’s moving, and leave me for dead in a goddamned alley?” A television screen the size of a billboard stretches above wires on a metallic neck. The screen powers on and Vox’s eye with the jagged pupil opens. It focuses on Valentino. “Or maybe,” Vox’s voice booms. “You’ll go to my fucking tower and try to kill my fucking shark? Maybe you’ll destroy my home?” The wires have formed thick, new limbs that crackle with blue electricity.

Valentino snarls and spreads his wings threateningly. “You shouldn’t have made me mad, Voxxy,” Valentino says. He slowly begins to crawl towards the other Overlord. “You’re always doing that. Always pissing me off then acting all butthurt when I give you a few smacks.”

Vox’s screen glows with a neon blue light. The Overlord takes a wide stance and firmly plants his feet just as a beam fires from his face and hits Valentino, knocking the moth demon onto his back. Valentino scrambles to his feet and stares at Vox, shocked.

Valentino tries to take to the sky, but Vox shoots out power cords and wraps them around the moth demon’s ankle. He yanks Valentino back to the ground.

Valentino roars in outrage. He inhales deeply then spits a glob of reddish-black ichor at Vox. It lands on the TV demon’s thigh and sizzles. Vox screams and while he’s distracted Valentino launches toward him, knocking Vox prone. Valentino uses his humanoid hands to hold Vox in place. “You’re really not going to take me back, are you?” Valentino asks.

Vox’s screen relights and the moth demon moves his head away just before Vox lets loose another beam. “Fuck you, Valentino!” Vox snarls.

A look crosses over Valentino’s monstrous face that could almost be mistaken for regret before it’s gone, replaced with a cold fury. He raises one of those striped insect legs above Vox’s screen. “Well, since we’re officially done, I guess I should smash your screen one last time. Tradition and all that. One more for the road.”

Valentino lets out a shriek as something rams into his side and off Vox’s prone body.

Alastor opens his mouth and emits a hellish roar. It’s not just the usual sound of radio feedback and bombardment of static. No, this is far worse. It is a roar composed of thousands of voices, a choir of the damned; voices of the souls slain by Alastor as he clawed his way to power.  

If the Radio Demon has his way, Valentino’s voice will be added to his collection.

“Valentino,” Alastor says in those stolen, distorted voices. “I said to stay away from Vox. You can’t seem to follow simple instructions.” He lowers his antlered head and charges, intent to gore the moth in the side.

Valentino opens his mouth and attempts to spit out another ball of acid, but cables wrap around his face. Vox barrels toward him and tackles him. “Round two, fucker!” Vox brings a fist crashing into Valentino’s jaw.

Back inside of the hotel, Charlie is having a full meltdown. “Everyone can see,” Charlie screams. “They’re just fighting in front of the hotel where everyone can see!”

Angel Dust chuckles. “Hey, look on the bright side, Toots,” he grins. “Free publicity!”

“Angel, we don’t need this kind of publicity!” Charlie snaps. She pulls at her hair. “Oh, great! Alastor just ripped off one of the drainpipes. Yeah, no. That’s fine! That’s great. You just keep using our drainpipe to club Valentino,” she screeches at Alastor. “It’s totally fine!”

Vaggie puts a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Hun, maybe we should go somewhere and take a breather. You’re getting upset.”

Angel sighs and looks at Husk who’s watching the entire fight go down with unusual interest. “What’s up, babe?” Angel leans on Husk, wrapping himself around the cat demon’s shoulders.

“Just thinking it kinda sucks that Al’s getting to have all the fun.” Husk mutters. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I had fun knocking down that bastard’s business but…”

Angel’s gold tooth glints under the light. “Oh, honey,” he reaches into his floof and pulls out his tommy gun. “Say no more. And wasn’t it sweet of Al to make this giant hole for us?”

Husk grins and stretches his wings. He pulls Angel down for a kiss and slides his tongue into the spider’s demon’s mouth. He pulls away. Angel rubs Husk’s ears. “I know how you feel about using your wings, Husk.”

Husk shakes his head. “You know what, Angel?” He scoops his boyfriend into his arms. “It’s a special occasion. Lock and load!”

Charlie runs forward. “Angel! Husk! No!” She attempts to grab them, but misses. “No!” She begins banging her head against the wall. “We work so hard, Vaggie and for what? So, our redemption center can be the epicenter of an Overlord brawl?”

“Charlie,” Vaggie says. “Listen, let’s just get away from this giant hole in the wall? Get somewhere a little—” Husk flies by holding Angel by his upper two arms as the spider demon fires wildly at Valentino. “—Safer.”

Charlie rubs her arm. Maybe Vaggie was right. Maybe what she needed to do right now was take a breather and look at this from another—

“Oh my God,” Charlie begins to hyperventilate. “Is that the 666 News?!”

It is the 666 News. Katie Killjoy climbs out of the news van and smiles. As if she senses eyes, Katie turns toward the hotel and immediately spots Charlie. She wiggles her fingers in a wave and gives the princess a mean-spirited smile before turning to the camera.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Charlie bangs her fists against the wall. “Why can’t we ever be on the news for something positive?”

“Charlie?” Vaggie takes a step back.

Charlie’s eyes bleed red. Her horns begin to grow from her head. She beats her fists against the wall, and it crumbles from the force. “This ends now,” she roars. Charlie leaps through the hole through the wall.

Vaggie sighs. “Well, even though I don’t see this ending well, I still support you,” she calls after her girlfriend. “Kick their ass, honey!”

Charlie lands on her feet. She waves back at Vaggie. “Love you!”

Valentino has successfully taken to the sky, but unfortunately finds himself carrying two unwanted passengers. Alastor gnaws on Valentino’s leg like a dog worrying a bone. Vox has his wires wrapped around Valentino’s neck and is attempting to strangle the moth demon. Valentino’s mood doesn’t improve as Angel Dust keeps flying by and taking pot shots at him. “I’m going to kill you!” he snarls at the spider demon. Angel just cackles and shoots him again. “Fucker!”

         Vox sends a massive bolt surging up the wires currently wrapped around the moth demon’s neck. Electricity surges through Valentino and by unfortunate consequence through Alastor who is still attached to his leg. The smell of ozone and burning hair fills the air.

         Valentino’s limbs lock up and the moth demon begins to fall rapidly.

         They hit the ground with a boom that rattles the windows of the hotel. The three Overlords lie there for a moment, dazed from the impact. For the moment the fight seems to have left them and the three of them sit there.

         But then Alastor punches Valentino in the face who in turn kicks the Radio Demon in the dick, which makes Vox gut punch Valentino. The three Overlords grapple in the dirt like children in a schoolyard.

         “Stop this!” Charlie stomps toward them. Each of her footprints leaves behind flaming marks in the grass. When the three demons pay her no mind, Charlie tries to crawl her way into the center of them in an attempt to pull them apart.

         No one knows who did it—

 (After all, it’s a chaotic mess of wires, shadow tentacles, and fists being thrown this way and that)

—But someone hits Charlie in the face and the blow sends her flying backwards. She lands on the lawn with a grunt. “Ow you guys,” she mutters and rubs her bruised cheek. “That hurt!”

The sky darkens overhead. The sun (or what passes for it in Hell) turns a bright, clear yellow as a goat’s pupil rolls into place. The newly formed eye in the sky stares balefully down at the three Overlords.

Alastor, Vox, and Valentino scramble apart, shrinking back to their normal sizes. They hold up their hands and back away, putting even more distance between each other.

The eye seems to wait.

Vox figures it out first. “Valentino, it’s over. You need to leave.”

Valentino sneers. His coat’s gone and he stares before them wearing nothing but his fishnets and heels. “You don’t give me orders, Vox.”

“What is your deal?” Vox demands. “You tried to kill me! You left me for dead! It doesn’t get much more over than that. Whatever we had before is done! You made sure of that. Just fucking leave!” Vox heaves a heavy sigh and sinks to the ground. He covers his face with hands. The TV Demon is exhausted.

Valentino looks the TV Demon up and down. He takes a step forward.

The eye lolls over in his direction.

A silent dare.

Valentino scoffs. “Whatever,” he says. He swipes the back of his hand across his chin. “You’re not worth it.”  The moth demon turns to leave but stops. He looks up to where Angel Dust and Husk are sitting perched on the roof of the hotel, enjoying a post-battle celebratory drink. “Consider yourself fired, Angelcakes. Don’t let me see you or that flying sack of mange you call a boyfriend around my properties again!”

“Oh, boo hoo,” Angel shouts back. “You’re lucky I’m outta bullets or I would show you just how many shits I give about you firing me, Val.”

“Have fun walking back to your porn hub,” Husk jeers. He puts an arm around Angel’s waist.

Valentino sneers at him, turns on his heel, and starts his long trek back to his studios. Charlie sprints after him. “Ahem,” she says. “Look, I know you’re an asshole, but...”

Alastor’s jaw drops. “Charlie, what are you doing?” He demands, even though he already knows.

Charlie can already sense his fast approach, so she starts talking faster. “Look, I think that if we work on some of your anger and control issues, even you can be set on the path of redemption.” She reaches into her coat and pulls out a business card.

Alastor snatches it from her hand and shoves it into his mouth, chewing on it noisily without ever breaking eye contact with Valentino. “Princess, while I can appreciate your moxie, I think we can afford to be a tad selective with our choice of clients.” Alastor glowers at the moth demon.

Charlie reaches into her coat and procures another card. Alastor glares at her. She shrugs. “You have a bad habit of destroying stuff you don’t like. Besides, who only has a single business card?” She holds it out to Valentino who snatches it before Alastor can get it. “Look, I don’t like you. You’re kind of the worst, but I’m not going to turn away anyone who wants my help. Even you.”

Valentino looks at the card. “Happy Hotel?”

Charlie’s face grows red. “Yeah, well. The hotel went through a name change after I printed all those cards.” She shoots a disapproving glare at Alastor who doesn’t even have the decency to look apologetic. “Anyway! If you’re ever interested in seeking a way to achieve redemption, come to us!”

Valentino smirks. “Oh, I bet Alastor would just hate that. Me being here all the damned time? Having to help me on the path of righteousness? Wouldn’t that be a treat?” Valentino starts to chuckle. He walks away still laughing under his breath.

“Charlie, have you lost your mind?” Alastor says the second Valentino is out of earshot. “Offering a place at the hotel to him of all demons? After all that he’s done! All the people he’s hurt!”

Charlie scrunches up her face . “Alastor, we let you live here and you’re a cannibalistic serial killer.”

Alastor’s voice dies in his throat. He stands there for a moment, stupefied. “Well, obviously it’s different for me ,” he laughs, awkwardly. “ I’m not seeking redemption. No, no, no. That’s nonsense. A pipe dream! But,” his voice loses all its mirth, “you’re just inviting a different type of predator into the hotel. Have you given any thoughts to what effect this will have on Angel’s progress having his abuser living within the walls? And what of Vox, hmm?”

Charlie worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “He hasn’t said yes,” she reminds him. “And if he ever does, we’ll take the proper precautions.”

“We wouldn’t need to take precautions if you hadn’t foolishly—” Alastor stops. He looks over Charlie’s shoulder and notices that the 666 News van is still there. He straightens his back. “Perhaps this is a conversation best saved for when we’re inside.” He turns away from Charlie and walks over to Vox who still hasn’t moved. “Vox? Would you like to go inside? I’m sure Vark noticed all the commotion and was worried.”

Vox lowers his hands from his face and gives Alastor a nod. He lets the Radio Demon help him to his feet and together they walk into the hotel.

Charlie moves to follow, but not before she looks towards the sky. She and the goat eye stare at one another before it fades away returning the sun to its original pentagrammed crimson state.

Later in the evening, the residents of the hotel gather in the kitchen. Angel and Husk are elsewhere, the spider demon having kindly informed them that his “bloodlust had turned into regular ol’ lust” before dragging the cat demon upstairs.

Vaggie presses an ice pack against Charlie’s cheek. “I’m just saying,” Charlie mutters. “Where was that ‘protective dad’ act when Katie Killjoy had me in a headlock on live television?”

Vaggie gives the princess an amused little smile. “Charlie, you started that fight.”

“Yeah, well…” Charlie trails off. She pouts and it looks so adorable that Vaggie gives her a kiss on her non-bruised cheek.

Alastor tries to follow their conversation, but he finds his focus being drawn over to Vox. Since the end of the fight, the TV Demon has grown taciturn and silent, only saying a word or two when someone engages him. Vox currently stares at a cup of coffee that Vaggie put in front of him, still full and now ice cold. “You know what we should do,” Alastor suddenly interjects. “We should gather everyone and watch the picture show! As a group! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Vaggie and Charlie look at each other. Vox barely gives him a glance, but he sighs, “Yeah, sure. That could be fun.”

Alastor nods enthusiastically. He swirls his fingers on the countertop. Angel and Husker drop out of a portal in the ceiling. The spider demon’s third pair of hands pop out to cover his bits. Husk glares up at Alastor from his undignified position on the floor. “Al, what the actual fuck?”

“I just summoned you to tell you that we’ll be gathering in the living room to watch the picture show! A little group bonding!”

The explanation only pisses Husker off more. “You couldn’t have just texted me this?”

“Husker, you know I don’t have a phone!”

“ I have a phone,” Vaggie pipes up. The moth demoness has a hand up to shield her view.

Husk points a claw at Vaggie. “ She has a phone, Alastor!” He scrambles to his feet and stomps out of the kitchen, muttering irritably under his breath, “Un-fucking-believable! Can’t even have fucking sex with my fucking boyfriend without that smiley asshole ruining—” The door closes behind him cutting off the rest of his tirade.

“Welp,” Angel Dust says as he climbs to his feet. “This has been weird, but I should go get my pants. I don’t usually show strangers this much of my junk unless they’ve paid for it first soooo,” He sprints out of the kitchen.

Charlie gives Alastor a disapproving look. “Alastor, that was uncool.”

Alastor shrugs. Everyone was a critic.

The room with television is technically the formal sitting room, but it’s an offshoot of the living room so they refer to it as such. Alastor usually spends as little time as possible in this room, but sometimes he can be coaxed into sitting down for a few minutes during a vintage movie marathon (although he’s not sure how he feels about something he saw when he was a young man being referred to as ‘vintage’).

He'll make allowances for Vox’s sake.

Alastor stands in the sitting/living room. He arrived early because he needed to make an important decision:

Choosing a place to sit.

Usually, Alastor would have taken one of the armchairs and that would have been that.

That was pre-Vox.

Now that Vox was here Alastor felt a need to be by his side. What if the Media Overlord needed him?

Alastor just wanted to be a good friend. That’s it.

“Boss?”

Alastor turns then looks down to see Niffty staring up at him in concern. “Are you okay? You were just standing here, staring at nothing.”

Alastor wags a finger. “I’m trying to decide which seats Vox and I will choose during the picture show,” he says. A beat of silence and the Radio Demon realizes his mistake.

Niffty’s face shines with manic glee. Her tiny fists are balled under her chin as she stares at Alastor with unbridled joy. “All my dreams are coming true,” she whispers.

Alastor waves his hands and shakes his head. “As friends,” he protests. “Simply as friends!”

Niffty makes her way over to a particular piece of furniture and gives it a pat. “You and Vox should sit here.”

“Niffty,” Alastor heaves a tired sigh. He rubs his eyes. “Vox and I will not be sitting on the love seat but thank you for your input.”

“But why not,” she persists. “It’s super comfy and you’ll have the space to yourself! If you sit on the couch, you’ll have to share the space with Husker and Angel. Or Vaggie and Charlie.”

Alastor gives her an unamused look. “Or I can sit in that armchair all the way over there,” he points. “And Vox can sit in that one,” he points at the other chair further away from the first.

Niffty looks horrified. “No, don’t do that! Okay, you can sit on the couch! That’s fine! Just as long as you and Vox sit next to each other. Please? Pretty please? I’m super invested!”

Alastor can feel the beginning twinges of a headache. “Niffty…”

Charlie enters the room, holding a bowl of popcorn. “What’s going on?”

Niffty runs over to her. “I was just telling Alastor that he and Vox should sit on the loveseat while we watch TV.”

Oh no.

Charlie’s face lights up. “That’s a great idea! You and Vox should totally do that!”

“I know!” Niffty gushes.

She and Charlie bounce excitedly on their feet and squeal.

For the first time in his afterlife, Alastor has regrets.

The others enter the room. Vox walks in, trailed by Vark. The TV headed demon seems distracted. He plops down on the loveseat. Vark takes his position at his master’s feet and flumps over onto his side.

Alastor feels beads of sweat on the back of his neck. He doesn’t have to look at either Niffty or Charlie to know they’re watching him in anticipation.

“Well, if you’re not going to sit next to him,” Niffty says. She walks toward Vox but does it in exaggerated slow motion while looking back at Alastor.

 With a sigh, he breezes past Niffty and takes the seat next to Vox. Vark lifts his head and gives the Radio Demon’s shoe a sniff. Alastor reaches down and gives the shark a scratch between his eyes.

Angel Dust and Husk appear with a six pack of sodas. Fat Nuggets trots in behind them. They take their seats on the couch. Fat Nuggets sidles up next to Vark and leans against the demon shark. Vark opens an eye and his tail thumps against the floor.

Vaggie is the last to appear because she wanted to make sure all the doors and windows were locked. It was bad enough they still had a hole in the upstairs wall that any demon with wings could just fly through. Vox had blocked the hole with wires and cables and Alastor had his shadow dolls standing guard with the express orders to kill any intruders.

Vaggie takes a seat next to Charlie who sits next to Angel Dust on the couch. Niffty climbs into one of the armchairs. “So, what are we watching,” asks the maid.

“No idea,” Charlie says. She has the remote and powers on the TV. “Let me know if you see anything interesting.”

Angel Dust perks up.

“Not porn, Angel.”

Angel Dust settles back in his seat. “Excuse me for wanting to show off my greatest hits,” he mutters.

Charlie rolls his eyes and starts channel surfing.

Vox looks checked out until he sees a flash of something. “Wait, go back!”

Charlie does as she’s told. “The news?” She frowns. “Vox, are you sure?”

Vox nods. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“—that’s right, Tom,” Katie Killjoy says. “You’re seeing footage from earlier today where three Overlords decided to duke it out in front of the hotel owned by Hell’s own princess: Charlie Morningstar!” Katie puts up an unflattering photo of Charlie mid-sneeze that looks like it was taken by someone hiding in the bushes.

“Oh no,” Charlie wails. “They’re already showing this? Noooo! And who the fuck took that picture?!”

Video footage begins playing of Vox and Valentino fighting before Alastor jumps from the window.

To everyone’s amazement, Vox begins to laugh. “Holy shit! Did you see his face when Alastor rammed into him?” the TV Demon grins. “He never saw it coming!”

Alastor’s smile softens. Everyone’s mood seems to lift. Together they watched the footage, cheering when Vox and Alastor got a good blow or when Angel Dust and Husk attacked from the air. They laugh whenever the cameraman makes the mistake of trying to focus on the Radio Demon’s face, causing the feed to distort.

“Amazing,” Tom Trench says. “It seems like longtime rivals: Vox and Alastor are teaming up to take down Valentino. Talk about odd.”

“That’s right, Tom!” Katie cuts in. “Although the story has yet to be verified, I was able to pick up some details of the reason behind the altercation between Vox and Valentino.”

Footage of Vox walking out of the hotel, transforming plays. The footage shakes like it’s being shot on a cell phone. Alastor remembers that the 666 News hadn’t arrived yet. Someone must have submitted the footage.

“Are you going to beat the shit out of me? Shoot me? Smash my screen, push me out of your stupid limo while it’s moving, and leave me for dead in a goddamned alley? Or maybe you’ll go to my fucking tower and try to kill my fucking shark? Maybe you’ll destroy my home?”

“Uh oh,” Tom chuckles. “Sounds like trouble in paradise! Been there!”

Katie laughs. “Oh, Tom. Your love life is as sterile and useless as the sperm swimming around in your balls!”

Tom’s head whips around. “I told you that in confidence,” he hisses.

“In any case,” Katie shoves her co-anchor’s face away. “It seems that Valentino and Vox are on the outs. Is a certain radio-themed demon seeking to fill that hole? Or maybe a few others?” Katie winks as footage of Alastor helping Vox to his feet plays.

“Oooooh,” Katie and Tom say in unison. “Scandalous!”

“Oh whatever!” Angel scoffs. “He’s only helping Vox to his feet. I’ve done more scandalous shit before breakfast! Just ask Husk!”

Charlie gives Angel Dust a side glance. “Angel, what have we said about oversharing?”

The spider demon crosses his arms and sulks.

“We reached out and asked for an outside viewpoint from someone closest to the two Overlords who can provide better insight to this whole wacky ordeal. Streaming live from her penthouse we’re joined by Velvet! Thanks for being here, Velvet!”

Vox makes a strangled noise as Velvet’s face appears onscreen.

“It’s a pleasure to be here, Katie,” Velvet smiles. “Thanks for having me.”

“Velvet, you’re a member of the VVV Overlords. Would you be able to provide our viewers with some insight?”

Velvet sighs and settles into her gaming chair. “Look, I’ve gotta be honest. I was just as surprised as anybody when I saw that footage. Really shocking, you know? I’ve never seen those two lose control like that. And for Vox to tag team with the Radio Demon? Crazy with a capital ‘c’! But,” she waves a hand in dismissal. “I’ve seen this song and dance before. They fight. They breakup. They makeup. Rinse and repeat.”

“So, you don’t think there’s any basis to these allegations of abuse or attempted murder?”

Velvet pauses. She looks uncertain for just a moment before she puts on a mask of indifference. “Look, I love those two. Vox is the one who vetted for me when I joined the Triple V’s and I know that Valentino can be a little…rough, but,” she sighs, “I’m staying out of this. I got my business and brand to think about. Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure Vox went through…something and I’m super sympathetic, but they’re both grown ass adults who can solve their own problems.” Velvet fidgets. She looks at the camera and Alastor feels like at that moment she’s addressing Vox. “I’m sorry about what you said you went through. I really am, but I’m not a part of this. Consider me Switzerland. Besides,” she shrugs again. “Vox likes to be dramatic. I’m sure that this whole thing’s been blown out of proportion.”

Alastor’s head whips around when he hears a keening wail coming from beside him. Vox emits a pained howl like a wounded beast. He claws at his shirt, exposing the bandages wrapped around his chest.

Charlie rises from the couch. She starts taking a few hesitant steps in Vox’s direction.

Vox throws back his head and his anguished wail only grows in its intensity and volume. When his scream reaches its apex, Vox falls back against the loveseat seemingly drained.

Everything goes dark.

“Shit,” Angel curses. “We got a blackout.”

“Hang on,” Husk says. “I got better low light vision. I’ll go grab us some candles. Charlie, where do you keep them?”

“Um, there’s some in the hallway closet and there’s more in the basement.”

“I can go grab some from the basement,” Vaggie offers.

Alastor summons a ball of flames into his hand and hovers it near Vox. The TV Demon turns his face away from the light. “Sorry,” he murmurs. He starts to say more but his phone vibrates. Vox takes it out of his pocket and looks at the ID. He pushes to receive the call.

Alastor’s sensitive ears can pick up the familiar shrill voice of none other than Velvet on the other end. “Oh em gee, Vox! Did you cause a fucking blackout? What the hell, man? Talk about rude! I was in the middle of a boss fight and now I’m going to have to start over because you—”

Vox ends the call. The phone slips from his hand and he doesn’t even react when it clatters to the floor. Vox gets to his feet. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room,” he says. He starts to trudge away.

Alastor grabs his arm with the hand not holding a ball of fire. “Oh, no you don’t. You shouldn’t be alone. Not after this fiasco! You and I will go spend time in my room.” He pointedly ignores Niffty’s titillated gasp. “That way I don’t have to worry about you losing yourself to the intranet river again.”

“The what?”

Angel heaves a weary sigh. “Don’t,” he says. “It’s just better if you don’t.”

Alastor holds out a hand and Vox tentatively takes it. “That’s the spirit,” the Radio Demon tells him. “Honestly, it’s not as if you would have been able to do much anyway. Not without any power. No matter, I’ve got candles and gas lanterns. Don’t you fear, we’ll salvage tonight or so help me!”

Alastor and Vox make their way through the hotel’s halls and up the winding stairway that leads to Alastor’s room. When the Radio Demon throws open his door the first thing that greets him is the vast hole in the wall where the door to his studio once stood. “Ah…” Alastor’s eye twitches. “Yes. There’s that.” He clears his throat. “But that’s a problem for tomorrow!” Alastor snaps his fingers, and the hole turns into a lovely screened in porch complete with chairs and tables. His shadow dolls glide up and hand him lit gas lanterns. He gives one to Vox. “Let’s have a seat.”

Vox shrugs and follows Alastor to his new addition. The two of them sit and look out at the dark landscape of the city. The darkened buildings look eerie. The only lights in the city are from the headlights of vehicles making their way through the city’s streets.

“Ugh,” Vox hangs his head. “I’m going to have to send so many apology emails tomorrow!” He groans and looks at Alastor. “Don’t suppose you have any more of that fancy wine left?”

“After the day you’ve had I think I can provide you with something stronger.” Alastor gets up and goes to a wall panel just under his safe and presses it, revealing yet another secret hatch with another bottle of contraband booze. “Hope you like bourbon!”

Vox grins. “How many of those do you have dotted around this place?”

“My friend, I was alive during Prohibition,” Alastor tells him as he pours them both a glass. “I have bottles hidden everywhere in this room! Why! I wager I could run a variable speakeasy if I wanted! Had some in my station too,” he adds with a sad shake of the head. He takes his seat after handing Vox a glass. He sips at the liquid and enjoys the smooth burn. “Couldn’t help notice your mood after our altercation with Valentino,” Alastor gives Vox a sidelong glance. The TV headed demon avoids meeting his gaze. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“I dunno.” Vox shrugs. “It’s stupid. I mean, on the one hand, it felt good punching the ever-loving shit out of that bastard, but afterwards I just felt…” he trails off and takes a drink. “Embarrassed? Stupid? Empty? All the above? But then we saw it being replayed on the news and it was like, ‘Oh, shit! Look at that ass-whooping we’re giving him!’ and seeing Valentino getting his shit stomped felt so good! Like inappropriately good.” Alastor can see the glow of Vox’s teeth as he grins. The smile is unfortunately short-lived. “But then Velvet…” Vox trails off again. He sits and quietly sips his bourbon for a moment. “I don’t blame her for wanting to stay out of it. I really don’t. She’s got her own stuff to worry about, right? But…”

“You’re hurt,” Alastor finishes for him. He raises a finger, and a shadow doll brings over the rest of the bottle.

Vox hesitates then nods. “It’s just the way she worded it too. ‘He says happened to him’ like she thinks I’m making it up. And she called me dramatic! Dramatic! I wasn’t crying over a fucking bruise, Velvet! Or – or I dunno some other bullshit! Valentino, tried to kill me, okay? He tried to fucking murder me! I mean, she’s seen what he’s done to my face before! How could she sit there a-a-a-and—” Alastor sees electricity spark through Vox’s hands. Vox sees it too and he sets the glass down and folds his hands in his lap. He looks over in surprise when the chair he’s sitting in begins to morph and stretch, changing from a chair to a bench. Alastor moves from his chair and to Vox’s side. Vox welcomes the closeness. Alastor puts his arm around Vox’s shoulders and pulls him closer in a hug. “I’m glad she didn’t choose Val,” Vox says softly. “I guess I’m just sad she didn’t choose me either.”

Vox spends the night in Alastor’s room. The Media Overlord offers to take the couch, but Alastor won’t hear of it. “You can take the bed. You’re my guest, after all.”

But Vox shakes his head. “No way. I’m not recuperating from an attack. You take the bed.”

In the end they’re both too stubborn, so they’re forced to compromise.

 Neither takes the bed, instead making a pallet of blankets and sheets on the new porch. It’s actually quite nice. The lack of power means there’s less demons out and about so the usual sounds of the city are nonexistent. Alastor just wishes there were stars. It’s one of the few things he misses about the Living World. Still, as Alastor watches as Vox’s screen dims as the TV Demon finally drifts to sleep, he realizes he can’t find it in himself to complain.

The power returns by the next morning. Alastor knows this because his shadow doppelganger decides to wake him by playing Cab Calloway’s “Bugle Time Rag.”

Alastor wishes you could kill a shadow or at the very least maim it.

He glares bleary-eyed at the offending shadow who looms near his record player. Alastor also finds himself hating Valentino even more because in removing his studio he also removed the wall it shared with his bedroom. The Radio Demon hadn’t bothered manifesting a wall to block his room because he hadn’t seen a point. The porch was keeping out any unwanted pests, so his room and his belongings were safe.

Now, he wishes he’d made a door. Something to slam in his shadow’s grinning face.

Vox shoots up the second the bugle plays. He looks around confused. “Wha?”

Alastor sighs and sits up. “My shadow considers himself a comedian it seems. Apologies. I thought we were done with this,” He directs that to the doppelganger.

The doppelganger settles into the chair. Its caricature of a smile widens as he considers both Alastor and Vox. Vox gets to his feet with a groan and calls dibs on the bathroom. When he walks past, the doppelganger tilts its head.

Alastor watches in horror as it tries to take hold of Vox’s shadow.

For a heart-stopping moment, Alastor sees the shadow grab onto Vox’s and fears the worst.

Vox stops in his tracks, head swiveling in confusion, sensing something wasn’t quite right but not knowing what it was.

Alastor’s doppelganger pets Vox’s shadow on the head. For a second, Alastor sees a thread of magic transfer from his shadow to Vox’s. Vox’s shadow gives a twitch and a pair of glowing blue eyes open.

Alastor’s doppelganger’s eyes widen with excited glee.

Alastor’s eyes widen in terror.

But then Vox’s shadow’s eyes close and it returns to its dormant state.

Alastor’s shadow floats away and sits back in the chair, folding its arms and hissing in a petulant manner.

The entire exchange takes less than a minute. Vox shakes his head, muttering under his breath about how he “didn’t used to be such a lightweight” before continuing to the bathroom.

“What was that?” Alastor demands as soon as Vox is gone. He scrambles to his feet and makes his way to the doppelganger. “ What was that? You tried to—you almost actually— no !” He leans close to his shadow’s face and glares in its glowing eyes. “You are never to do that again! What in the world possessed you to even try?!”

His shadow sits there for a moment.

It points at Alastor then points at the bathroom.

It points at itself and then points at the bathroom once more.

Alastor’s face softens. He thinks he’s beginning to understand. “Well, you already have plenty of friends,” he tells it. “The other shadow summons, the shadow dolls and shadow moppets, and the haints I’ve bound to me. Aren’t those your friends? Do you really need another?”

His doppelganger hisses at that. It stands up, glides over to the closet, and slips beneath the door.

Oh. It was sulking. Alastor sighs. He sinks into the now vacated chair and closes his eyes. The shadow has presented the Radio Demon with yet another problem he needs to watch for. If the shadow had been stronger or if Vox had been less aware, would the doppelganger had been able to bring Vox’s shadow to life? What would have happened if it had succeeded? Alastor doubts that Vox knew about the dark magic needed to control a living shadow (although a part of the Radio Demon feels that’s a bit hypocritical considering how well he’s currently controlling his own living shadow) and there’s no way he’d risk a shadow running amok.

Alastor strokes his chin and looks toward the closet door. A part of him can’t help but be curious about his doppelganger’s nature. Was this recent change of behavior and its subsequent abilities a result of something Alastor did? He did summon his doppelganger more than the other shadows. Alastor didn’t like to think of himself as vain or a narcissist, but he had to admit that he trusted his doppelganger’s capabilities because it happened to look like him.

Perhaps my constant summoning and allowing it free ranger has empowered it? Alastor hums to himself. He knows he shouldn’t encourage this, but…

When Vox reappears, Alastor asks if he can accompany him to his room later. Sit in while he works.

Vox understandably looks surprised. Alastor in a room with that much technology? “Are you sure,” he asks. “I’m just writing emails for a few hours. I don’t want you getting bored.”

Alastor has his back to the closet, but he can feel the pinprick of his shadow’s awareness. His doppelganger is listening to the conversation. “Of course,” Alastor says, cheerily. “I know! How about you put a picture show on one of those screens? That should keep me plenty entertained while you work!”

“Well, if you think so.” Vox shrugs. “We should grab breakfast first. I would literally murder someone for a cup of coffee.”

“Ha!” Alastor puts an arm around Vox. “Funny story! I actually have killed someone over a cup of coffee! Back when I was alive!”  As they walk to the dining room, Alastor regales Vox with the tale about how he killed a man with a sugar spoon for knocking over his cup of coffee.

“Now that I think back on it,” Alastor says as they take their seats. “I don’t think the gentleman even meant to do it! I seem to remember he was reading a newspaper. Maybe a magazine. Ah well. Anger gets the best of all, right?”

Vox nods but looks confused. “But how did you stab him with a spoon?”

“Oh, you can stab a person with anything if you put enough oomph behind it,” Alastor winks at him. “In that particular case, I went in through his eyes.” He mimes pulling someone's head back and makes a swift stabbing motion. “Straight through! You could say he never saw it coming! Not that he was seeing much after that anyway! Ha! Oh, I’m too much!”

“I’ll say,” Vaggie mutters as she enters the room. “You’re certainly in good spirits. It’s early in the morning and you’re already telling your shit jokes.”

“Vaggie, my jokes are classic! Humor at its peak!”

Vaggie shakes her head. “Whatever you say, Alastor.”

The rest of the residents trickle in and take their seats as Niffty comes in with breakfast. She’s riding Vark like a horse, a tray perfectly balanced on his head. “Morning everyone!” Niffty smiles. “I hope everyone’s hungry!”

Vox stares, agape. “How—when did you train him to do that?” He asks. He watches as Vark trots around the table, allowing people to take plates of toast and eggs.

“Oh, it just took a firm, womanly hand,” Niffty giggles. “Vark is such a fast learner.” She clicks her teeth, reaches into a pocket on her skirt and pulls out a treat. “Vark, sit!”

Vark lowers himself to the floor, never once rocking the tray. Niffty slides off him and makes her way to the shark’s front. “Vark, lower!”

Vark lowers his head and allows Niffty to take off the tray. “Very good,” she says and gives him the treat.

Niffty turns and smiles at Vox who cradles his head and looks as if the entire world has gone mad. “He’s only been here for…two nights at the most? How has she trained him?”

Alastor gives him a pat on the shoulder. “That’s Niffty for you,” he gives his thrall an appreciative nod. “She never fails to impress.”

Niffty giggles and curtsies. She takes the empty tray back to the kitchen and returns with a tray of coffee cups.

Alastor thanks her and sips from his cup. “Perfect as always, Niffty,” Alastor tells her.

“You don’t ever compliment me like you do her,” Husk mutters.

Alastor doesn’t even turn his way. “Give me something to compliment then.”

Husk glowers at the Radio Demon before returning his attention to his breakfast.

“Are you going to do anything with that station of yours,” Vaggie asks. She eyes Alastor. “It can’t stay on the lawn.”

Alastor gives her a cool look. “Well, I had no plans to leave it there.” He waves a hand. “I’ll deal with it after breakfast.”

Charlie looks worried. “Are you sure? It has been outside all night.”

“During a blackout,” Vaggie reminds him.

Fuck.

Alastor calmly places his coffee cup back on the table and stands. He walks out of the dining room, waits until he’s around the corner and well out of sight before sprinting for the front door. He calms himself before he sets his foot on the lawn (he knows there are large bay windows in the kitchen). Alastor adopts a persona of careful disinterest as he makes his way to the shattered remnants of his studio. He hums a little tune as he walks a circle around the ruin, cheek twitching as he takes in the damage. With a sigh, he melts into a shadow and teleports inside.

The building is sideways. It’s the first thing he notices once he’s inside. He walks along the walls until he reaches his desk. He stares at it with his hands on his hips before reaching a decision. Alastor rolls up his sleeves and grabs the edge of the desk and pulls himself on top of it. He pulls open the drawers and peers inside. “Oh, you rat bastards,” Alastor curses. He climbs off a desk and walks along the wall/floor until he comes to one of his patented hidden panels. Or at least it would have been hidden if Valentino’s interference hadn’t knocked the panel open by force. Precious glass bottles lie shattered and ruined inside the little cubby hole. Alastor snarls and teleports back out.

Vox is waiting for him. “What’s the damage,” he asks.

“Well. My building’s on its side and ruffians made off with some of my best top shelf whiskey and spirits. The Princess needs better security because honestly !” Alastor snaps his fingers, and his radio station lifts into the air. It creaks, groans, and pops as the damage repairs itself. Alastor twirls his hands like a conductor and floats the station back toward its spot on the side of the hotel. It seals itself back into place. Alastor gives a satisfied nod. “Well, it will take a moment for it to graft itself back into place but after that I’ll be good to go. Good thing too. I have a show tomorrow and I didn’t want to have to hoof it all the way to the other side of town to make it happen.”

Vox’s eyes widened for a split second. He rubs at his neck and says, “Oh, you’re doing one of your shows. That’s cool.” He looks as if he wants to say something else but doesn’t. He instead turns around and walks back towards the hotel.

Alastor follows him. “Something the matter, Vox?”

“I – it’s nothing.” Vox scratches at his chin. “I should get to work. Those emails aren’t going to write themselves! Well, they could. I do have a program for that, but it’s imperfect and one time ‘Insert Name Here’ got left in an email and hoo boy! You would not believe the bitch fit that caused. Never use a template, Alastor.”

Alastor just smiles and nods. He’s heard of emails, of course. Read a few too, thanks to his shadow spies. Nothing that bore any interesting or useable details though. He gets the context though. “I see. It’s like buying cards in bulk and mailing it to a person with someone else’s name written on it?”

Vox turns to him and just stares. Alastor remembers how the tech demon used to mock him for his inability to “get with the times” and he braces himself for a caustic comment.

         Vox snaps his fingers and points. “Yes, it’s exactly like that but worse because at least with a card I could grab it before it got sent through the mail. With an email, I don’t know what I’ve done until some asshole replies back and berates me for being ‘inattentive’ and ‘impersonal’,” Vox rolls his eyes. “Like a I got a million hours in my fucking day to sit down and type out every demon’s name in Hell. Just take the apology and the coupon for ten percent off and get off my dick!”

         Alastor nods along. He can’t help watching Vox as he vents. The TV Demon uses a lot of gestures as he talks, waving his arms and punching the air when he talks about how irritating he finds something.

Vox catches him staring. “What,” he demands. “I got something on my face?”

“I was just thinking how nice it is to have a conversation with you,” Alastor responds. His smile takes a saddened tinge. “We’ve never really spent any time in one another’s company except to exchange barbs and fists.”

Vox gives him a “mm-hmm” and a nod before letting the conversation seemingly die. “I guess,” he eventually says, “that something good came out of almost dying.” Vox rubs at his arm. “We would have never been able to talk like this before. You couldn’t stand me. I was always needling you. Now look at us. We’re having breakfast together. Having whole conversations where no one picks a fight. Hell, we’re about to go hang out in my room.” Vox grins. “I think I prefer this. Ah, Hell. I know I prefer this.”

Alastor feels…odd. A warmth in his chest that he can’t explain. A sense of contentment that he generally only felt after he had a good meal or a drink. Alastor pushes the feeling away, but says, “I prefer this too.”

They pass Niffty dusting in the lobby. Vark stands on his hind legs, front paws pressed on the wall. Niffty perches on his head, dusting a spot that would normally be out of her reach. When she finishes, she slides down his back and gives him another treat.

“Unbelievable,” Vox mutters. He points at Vark who sits and enjoys coos and pets from Niffty. “You know I tried to teach him to come to me when called and he just sat there with this dumb, adorable look on his face. Didn’t move. Not once. Now, he’s helping her dust!”

Alastor shrugs. “Niffty is Niffty,” he says simply. “So, any recommendations for me?”

“Well, I was going to put on a cooking show for you but…” Vox hesitates.

Alastor’s ears prick. “What is it,” he asks, head tilting to one side.

“It’s just…Niffty said you can be a bit of a food snob.”

Alastor finds that hard to believe. “ Niffty said that?”

“Ah. Well, no. Niffty said you have thoughts and feelings when it comes to food. Husk called you a food snob.”

That was more believable.

“Oh, that Husker,” Alastor laughs, eyes flashing with menace. “He’s such a card! I promise you don’t have to worry. I know that modern cooking techniques have changed, and I accept that. I assure you it will be fine.”

Vox doesn’t look so sure. “It’s just…Alastor I know the guy whose show is scheduled right about now. He specializes in Cajun and Creole food.”

The Radio Demon brightens. Finally! Something he could get behind. “Oh, ho ho! I can’t wait! This sounds marvelous! What part of Louisiana is he from? New Orleans? Shreveport? New Iberia? Ferriday? Lafayette? Maybe a little closer to Mississippi? Vidalia?”

Vox looks pained. “Portland.”

Alastor’s mouth falls open. “I…don’t recall that city. When was it established?”

“1845. In Oregon.”

Oh. “Oh,” Alastor says. He comes to a dead stop. “I see.” Alastor begins walking once more. “Well, never let it be said that I’ve never felt the Wanderlust Bug. I always dreamed of going to New York City when I was young. Sadly, I never got the chance but—”

“He was born in Beaverton.”

Alastor’s mouth goes dry. “Which is in…?”

“Still in Oregon.”

“I…see.” Alastor’s hands fall to his side. He stares into the middle distance, trying to work his mind around this conundrum. “He was born in…Oregon, but he specializes in…Cajun and Creole cooking? I…see.”

Just as Vox wonders if he should go find help, because it appears he accidentally broke Alastor, the Radio Demon snaps to attention. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Alastor says with a laugh. He hooks his arm with Vox and keeps walking.

Vox still looks worried. “I can try to find you something else,” he protests. “Maybe I can stream you a movie? A musical?”

“Nonsense!” Alastor says. “I’ll be fine!”

         Ten minutes later, Alastor sits on a wire and cable chair and stares at the demon on the screen with pure, unadulterated hatred. “Vox,” he calls. “Vox!”

         Vox types away on a keyboard growing from the floor. “Hmm?” he asks, eyes firmly affixed on his own screen.

         “I need you to tell me where to find this man.”

         “No.”

         “Vox, please. I – I – I only wish to talk with him. I swear!”

         “Alastor, I tried to warn you—”

         “That,” Alastor jabs a finger at the screen. “Is not cooking! It is a crime and a travesty! He’s making shrimp creole, but he left the heads and tails on! He left them on! You don’t do that! It simply isn’t done! He overcooked his okra and tomatoes! His gumbo is so clear that it might as well be just water! And he barely seasoned anything! My ancestors weep, Vox! The people of Louisiana weep! Tell me where to find him!”

         “No.”

         “Do you know where he lives?”

         Vox pauses and thinks. “I mean, not really but it wouldn’t be that hard for me to find out.”

         Alastor looks excited like a dog who just heard a treat bag open. “And you’d tell me?”

         “Alastor, no.”

         Alastor sinks in his seat, fuming as he watches as the demon on the screen made a mockery of all he held dear. The Radio Demon is so distracted by his ire that he almost didn’t notice the slight movement of his shadow sliding into the room. Alastor watches as his doppelganger looks around, freezing when it notices him sitting in the corner.

         Neither of them moves as they stare at one another.

The shadow breaks its gaze first when it hears Vox stifle a yawn.

         Vox’s room with its light projected from the numerous screens is perfect for casting shadows on the wall. The TV Media’s own shadow is cast onto the floor. Alastor’s shadow uses the dark corners of the room to move nearer.

Alastor watches. He waits.

He knows he should stop it. He should call his summon back or dispel it, but he can’t.

Alastor wants to see what happens. He wants to know what his creation is capable of.

His doppelganger chirrs. It waits. It chirrs again. It waits again.

Alastor realizes that his shadow is calling and waiting for a response.

Vox in his chair, strokes the side of his face, lost in his work.

Vox’s shadow turns its head slowly in the direction where Alastor’s shadow hides. It opens its blue eyes and emits a low, almost inquisitive chirring of its own.

Alastor’s shadow stretches toward it and to Alastor’s amazement Vox’s shadow looks as if it’s straining to do the same. When the shadows meet, another thread of power is transferred from his doppelganger to Vox’s. Vox’s shadow begins to peel itself off the floor.

“Fuck!” Alastor exclaims.

Vox looks around his chair at Alastor. He doesn’t notice at his feet, that his shadow is clawing at the ground, trying desperately to pull itself out of the mire of darkness while Alastor’s shadow beckons it encouragingly.

“I just remembered,” Alastor stammers. “I need to run an errand later. While I’m out do you need me to grab anything for you?”

Vox’s shadow is almost free. Alastor’s shadow has it by its arms and strains as it pulls to help.

Vox seems to think it over. “Uh, if you go by my tower could you grab something from my room?”

Alastor blinks, momentarily distracted from the two shadows. “You need something from your tower?”

A strange discoloration spreads over Vox’s screen and it takes Alastor a second or two to figure out what it is. When he does, the Radio Demon’s smile softens. “I mean, I don’t need it,” Vox stammers. He looks away. “I’d like it though. Just to have around.”

Alastor nods. “And what is it you’d like me to get for you?”

The discoloration spreads even more. Alastor watches it, fascinated. Tiny dots of pixelation spread across the center of Vox’s screen and seems to spread the more he flounders. Niffty told him once that it was called “snow”, but he didn’t understand why.

“I guess because enough of it will block your view,” Niffty had tried to explain. “Like a blizzard!”

Looking at Vox, Alastor can see what she means. “Look, forget I said anything. It’s dumb! Super dumb! Just forget it.”

“Oh, no. Don’t think anything of it. It would be no trouble,” Alastor insists. “Tell me where to find it and I’ll get it for you.”

Vox’s shadow has pulled itself free. Alastor’s has led it out of Vox’s immediate view. It embraces the other shadow like a long-lost friend. Vox’s shadow’s arms hang limply at its side before it raises them and puts them around Alastor’s doppelganger, copying the hug. Alastor’s shadow pulls away and looks the other shadow over like it’s checking for injuries.

Alastor might have found the whole thing touching if he didn’t find it so bizarre.

“Okay, so it’s in my bedroom,” Vox says. “I…got it hidden in a wall panel. Not even Tino knew about it. Left of my bed. It’s in a box.” Vox’s entire screen is snowy now. Alastor can only make out his eyes. “I can’t ask you not to look inside, but just don’t make fun of me okay?”

Alastor’s curiosity has never been more piqued. “I won’t make fun of you.” He gets to his feet. The abomination of a cooking showing has ended, thank God. “I’ll go upstairs and get changed. No time like the present.”

Vox nods. “Thanks, Alastor,” he mutters.

Alastor nods and kneels under the pretense that he’s examining something on his shoe. He’s really waiting until Vox turns back to his work. When the Media Overlord does so, Alastor makes a subtle gesture with his fingers. Alastor’s shadow gets ripped away from Vox’s and dragged to Alastor’s side. Vox’s shadow tries to follow, but it doesn’t realize it’s still too weak to function on its own, so when it moves too close to Vox it gets sucked back to its original position. Alastor’s shadow makes a low noise of distress as Vox’s shadow’s eyes close once again.

“None of that,” Alastor hisses. He and his shadow leave the room. “While I can appreciate your initiative, maybe don’t make a habit of bringing other people’s shadows to life. I’m not sure where that falls on the etiquette scale, but I’m sure it couldn’t be called polite.”

Alastor’s doppelganger snarls. Alastor looks at it, shocked. “Well, you’re in a mood,” he says with a sniff. “I would threaten to leave you in the room, but I have the suspicion that that’s what you want.” Alastor narrows his eyes and utters a smug, “Mm-hmm,” when he sees the shadow look back towards Vox’s room. “I thought so.”

After he’s dressed for the day, Alastor bursts into the lobby where Angel Dust stands talking (or aptly listening as he’s being talked to while rolling his eyes) to Charlie and Vaggie. Husk stands behind his desk/bar, watching the clock hungrily as he wipes down glasses. Charlie made the cat demon agree to at least waiting until a certain point of the day before he cracked open his first bottle. “Good day, everyone!” Alastor says. “I’ll be heading out soon to run some errands. Please take care of yourselves while I’m away, keep your noses clean, stay out of my room, et cetera.” Alastor stops short when he finds his path blocked by both Vaggie and Charlie. “Yes?”

Charlie fidgets with the sleeves of her coat. “So, you’re heading out?” Charlie says.

Alastor narrows his eyes. He’s not sure where this is going, but he’ll play along. “Yes,” he says slowly. “As I said before.” He places his hands on Charlie’s shoulders and slides her out his path. He dances around Vaggie when the moth demoness attempts to grab him. “Too slow,” he chides.

Charlie sprints to block his path once more. Alastor heaves a sigh. “Princess…”

“So, I was thinking,” Charlie interjects. “Wouldn’t it be so much fun if Vaggie went with you?”

Alastor squints at her. He turns his head and squints back at Vaggie who scowls at him and folds her arms. He returns his attention back to Charlie. “No,” he says.

Charlie huffs and Alastor fights a losing battle not to roll his eyes when she starts to stand straighter.

Oh great. She was attempting to “show she was an authority figure.” Usually, it was amusing, like a child attempting to use her big girl voice, but Alastor wasn’t really in the mood. Best to avoid it all together

“Fine!” He snaps. “Vagatha can tag along.” He turns and stares at Vaggie.

Vaggie bristles. “What?” she demands throwing up her hands in frustration.

He gives her a condescending smile. “It’s just…are you planning to wear that ?”

Vaggie’s cheeks redden, and she pushes past him, cursing loudly and viciously in Spanish. Alastor chuckles and follows her out of the door, mood lifted.

Alastor doesn’t know if Husk or Angel warned Vaggie, but the moth demon says nothing when he suggests they walk to the city proper. Pity.

“So,” Alastor says, striking up conversation. “I know I’m being punished for something, but why are you?”

“I’m not being punished.” Vaggie snaps. She blinks and quickly (but not quickly enough) adds, “And neither are you.”

“Ah. So, I’m being babysat?”

Vaggie doesn’t answer, which is an answer in itself.

Alastor scoffs. “I’m far too old for a chaperone, Vagatha.”

“Yeah, well. We just wanted to make sure you didn’t make any side trips,” Vaggie says. “The last time you were out, we ended up getting a visit from a pissed off Overlord and ending up on the news!”

It’s Alastor’s turn not to answer. He hadn’t planned on paying Valentino another visit, but if his feet just happened to carry him that direction…

Vaggie growls as if she read his mind. “Absolutely not,” she says sternly.

 Alastor groans. “You’re no fun.” He places a hand on her head and ruffles her hair roughly. She shrieks and attempts to swat at him, but he leans away to avoid her blow. “Ah, it’s just too easy.”

“Would it kill you not to be an asshole for, like, five seconds?!”

Alastor strokes his chin. “Hmm, maybe? Why risk it? Oh, turn that frown upside down, Vaggie,” the deer demon grins. He makes to poke her cheek, but she hisses and snaps at the digit. “Easy now! You’ll find that I bite back.”

Vaggie puts space between them.

Alastor shrugs and keeps walking. Unfortunately (for Vaggie), he quickly grows bored of the silence. “I have to ask,” he ignores her pained groan. “What made them choose you to accompany me?”

Vaggie looks at him incredulously. “Are you serious,” she snorts. “Husk and Niffty are your henchmen. Angel Dust is your new hire, but even he wasn’t he would have gotten bored, distracted, or both and just left. And Charlie,” Vaggie narrows her eye at Alastor. “You would have distracted her with a musical number and made your escape.”

Alastor laughs because it’s true. “And you?”

“I don’t trust you.” She pauses. “Okay, well, I trust you more than I did at the beginning, but I’m the least susceptible to get roped into your bullshit.”

Alastor hums. “Why not send Vox with me?” he asks, trying to keep his tone casual.

That gets a bark of laughter from Vaggie. “Yeah, right! There was no way I was letting you go out with your new BFF. First, Vox is a guest so we wouldn’t dream of asking him. Second, he’s way too busy. Third, there was the possibility he would have joined you in throwing down with his shitty ex. Again.” Vaggie rolls her eye. “You would not believe how long it took to make Charlie see reason about that.”

“Oh? The Princess wanted to send me with Vox?”

Vaggie gives him a look.

Alastor turns his gaze away. “Oh,” he says. “She’s still on that?”

“Fraid so.” Was that amusement he heard in her voice. “Niffty converted her.”

Alastor shudders. “I didn’t think Charlie would be so easily swayed by Niffty’s smut rags. I thought she was made of sterner stuff.”

Vaggie sighs. “Look, it’s not like that. Charlie is…Charlie. She’s a romantic. She looked past the sex and saw something deeper. She saw two long time enemies putting aside their hatred and becoming something more. Something closer. That’s what Charlie loves.”

They walk in silence as Alastor mulls over Vaggie’s words. “Yes,” Alastor says. “But there’s still so much sex in that book.”

“Oh my god there was so much sex!” Vaggie drags her hands down her face. “I do not understand how someone so obsessed with cleanliness can have such a filthy mind!”

“Her illustrations have improved.”

“Oh, yeah. They’re way better. She must have been practicing. I honestly don't know where she finds the time.”

“Niffty is a marvel,” he agrees.

Alastor makes a stop at a coffee shop. He knows he still has Vox’s moka pot floating around in a pocket dimension, but he isn’t ready to give it back. Not until he has a decent bag of coffee to go with it. The Sinner demon running the counter gives the Radio Demon more attention than she’s probably ever given another customer as Alastor tells her exactly how he wants the coffee beans ground. “It’s important that they’re not too fine,” he says. “We’re not trying to make espresso. Think of granulated sugar and you’re on the mark.” He gives her a wave. “I’ll be back later for it. Don’t disappoint me,” he says in a singsong manner. Or else , lingers unsaid but understood. He hears her let loose a sob just as the door closes.

“Do you have to threaten everyone?” Vaggie asks.

“My dear, I didn’t say a word about harming her. Or anyone, for that fact. People just assume I’m going to resort to violence.” Alastor sees a small group of demons. He raises his hand in greeting and they immediately bolt in the opposite direction. “See?”

“Yeah, but you let them assume. You’re not exactly doing anything that dissuades them of that belief.”

Alastor chuckles. “Of course not,” he replies. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Alastor whistles as they stand in front of Vox’s tower. Bapper and Co. have done a phenomenal job with the repairs. The outside of the tower looks good as new. The weapons system doesn’t respond when they walk up, and Alastor doesn’t know if it’s because Vox hasn’t updated it or if it’s because Alastor is no longer considered an enemy.

The Imps are inside. “Watch where you’re walking,” one of them barks. He sees Alastor’s face and immediately backpedals. “Er, you !” he points at Vaggie then runs away.

Alastor commits his face to memory before moving on.

Vox’s penthouse floor is almost immaculate. Before too long, he’ll be able to move back in , Alastor notes with a strange feeling of melancholy. He notices Vaggie watching and abruptly turns. “Be a moment,” he tells her as he walks in the direction of Vox’s room.

He finds the panel exactly where Vox said it would be. Alastor gives the panel a press and it releases with a small hiss of escaped air. There’s a box inside made from wood.

Alastor doesn’t need to open it. He knows what’s inside it, the second he has the box in his hand. He can feel it.

He slides the lid off anyway.

A radio.

“The fuck is that thing?” Vaggie asks. She’s over by the door but she can see a hint of the treasure within the box Alastor’s holding.

“This,” Alastor says, voice full of reverence, “is a Philco Ford cathedral radio.”

“Okay,” Vaggie says slowly. “But why does Vox have one?”

Alastor doesn’t know, but he plans on asking. He puts the lid back onto the box. “Let’s go.” He strides by Vaggie without another word.

“Wait,” Vaggie has to speed to keep up. “Are you serious?”

“Only sometimes,” Alastor answers and plays his laugh track.

“No. I mean, are you really telling me that the errands you had run was just you going to get stuff for Vox?”

Alastor stops. He doesn’t turn, but he can feel Vaggie's gaze burning into his back as she waits for an answer.

Alastor presses the elevator’s button.

“Holy shit,” Vaggie whispers in awe.

Alastor presses the elevator’s button harder. Why was it taking so long?

“Charlie’s never going to believe this.”

Alastor whirls around. “You are not to breathe a word to Princess Morningstar,” he snarls.

Vaggie does not look impressed. The elevator dings open and Alastor backs his way inside. Vaggie walks in normally and presses the button for the first floor. “I actually think it’s sweet.”

Alastor grips the box and refuses to answer.

“Your first real friend.”

Alastor’s eye twitches. “I have friends,” he snaps.

Vaggie looks up at him. “That’s right. I forgot about Rosie.”

Alastor’s face heats. “Not just Rosie.” He doesn’t know why this is bothering him.

Vaggie snickers. “Please tell me you’re not including Niffty and Husk in that equation. They work for you. You literally own their contracts. Also, Husk gives off the vibe that he wants to slit your throat. Like, a lot.”

Alastor growls and falls into silence. He must give off an aura of malice because the Imps give him a wide berth as soon as he exits the elevator.

Vaggie reaches out and takes his arm and it takes every ounce of his will not shove her away. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re probably Vox’s first real friend.”

Her words instantly extinguish his anger. “You believe so?”

“I mean, yeah. Look at who the poor guy was hanging with. An abusive ex-boyfriend and a chick who literally threw him under the bus on live TV. I don’t know much about his personal life, but Vox is rich and he’s famous.” Vaggie shrugs. “Two things that make it hard to tell who really likes you for you. Or so I’ve heard.”

Alastor considers that. Vaggie gives his arm a pat.

The tender moment is interrupted by the thunderous approach of a metal monster.

“Well, well, well,” a voice screeches over the loudspeaker.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Vaggie groans. “Not this asshole.”

Sir Pentious appears in the window, shoving aside on his Egg Bois. He shouts something but because he forgot to open the window and moved away from his intercom, they can’t hear.

Alastor holds a hand to his ear.

Sir Pentious scowls and throws open the window. “I said, ‘I’ve been looking forward to a rematch!’” the snake demon cackles. “You may have bested me before but I’ve grown more powerful since then! The hours I’ve spent plotting my revenge! The plans I’ve concocted! Weapons I’ve built! The sleep I’ve gone without! It shall all be worth it! Once I—”

Alastor sighs. “I’m sorry,” He tries to pick out the identity of the person he’s talking to from his memories and comes up short, “You,” Sir Pentious somehow manages to look both heartbroken and enraged by him not knowing his name. “But I’m in a hurry. Would it be possible to, oh, I don’t know, reschedule?”

Sr Pentious coils his way down to Alastor using the ray gun he has pointed at the deer demon. He lands on the ground with a plop and slithers his way toward them until he’s face to face with the Radio Demon.

“Reschedule?” Sir Pentious repeats. “Reschedule?! Of course, how rude of me. I shouldn’t have assumed—”

Alastor waves a hand. “No, no. It’s quite alright. Normally, I would but I got this item that I promised to bring and well, I just can’t make the time.”

“I’m honestly embarrassed. I saw you and just thought—well, it was poor manners. One moment!”

Vaggie had been bracing herself for a fight. Her jaw drops when Sir Pentious reaches into his hat and pulls out a small pair of spectacles, a pen, and a black leatherbound book. Her confusion only grows when the snake demon dons the spectacles at the end of his non-existent nose, dredging up memories for Vaggie of her grandfather as he tried to do a crossword.

“Let’s see,” Pentious licks the end of the pen and thumbs through the book. “I have an opening tomorrow.”

“Ooh, tomorrow’s no good. I have a show scheduled. What about next Tuesday?”

“Tuesday, won’t work. That’s Bath Day for the Egg Bois and Weapons Calibration.” Sir Pentious flips a page. “Ah! I have an open availability next Thursday.”

Alastor thinks. “Actually, next Thursday works for me as well.”

“Excellent! I shall mark us down to do glorious battle for next Thursday!” Sir Pentious closes the book with a snap and slides it, the pen, and the glasses back under his hat. He then just sort of stands there.

“Something wrong,” Alastor asks.

“To be honest, I was sorta banking on this fight happening.” He scratches awkwardly at his arm. “Kind of a sssslow day, you see. I wasn’t doing much. I guess I could go find Cherri Bomb. Maybe she’ll want to fight.” He climbs back onto his lazer. His attempt to go back the same way he came proves fruitless so he yells at his henchman to open the door so he can come inside. “See you Thursday!” he waves before throwing back his head and cackling fiendishly. Sir Pentious’ airship takes to the sky and flies off.

“Such an odd fellow,” Alastor comments to Vaggie. “Well, now that that’s done. How about we go grab those coffee grinds then head back? I don’t know about you but I’m in the mood to put my feet up.”

“Your feet wouldn’t be tired if we had taken the car.”

Alastor’s eyes flash. “Vaggie, are you saying you wish to travel by void?”

“No, I’m not.” She smirks. “ I can keep walking. You’re one complaining about your old man’s feet. How are your knees by the way? Do I have to worry about your hip?”

Alastor narrows his eyes. He’s tempted to open the void beneath her out of spite. “I’m fine,” he retorts. “Never better! In fact, I’ll race you!”

         “No fair!” Vaggie screeches when Alastor teleports away. “You fucking cheater!”

         Alastor grins smugly when a sweaty Vaggie finally arrives back at the hotel. “Took you long enough,” he tells her. She’s too out of breath to respond with anything other than a raised middle finger.

         Niffty walks up with a glass of water. “Alastor said you might need this,” she says. Niffty tsks. “Too much sweating isn’t lady-like, Miss Vaggie.”

         Vaggie scowls but takes the water. She downs the glass and sighs with relief. A calculating grin spreads over her face. “Hey, Niffty. Did you know the only errands Alastor had to do was getting things for Vox? Not even things he needed. Just stuff he’d like.”

         The color drains from Alastor’s face as Niffty’s starts to squeal with excitement. “Really,” she gushes.

         “Yep. We got him some nice coffee grinds and a package from his house. And by ‘we’ I mean Alastor.”

         Niffty’s giant eye turns to the Radio Demon and glistens with unshed tears. “That’s so sweet!”

         Alastor breaks out in a sweat. “I was doing him a favor! As a friend!”

         But it’s too late. Niffty has already run off to who knows where to work on more of her sordid tales.

         Alastor glares at Vaggie. “What?” she says with a shit-eating grin. “You told me not to tell Charlie.” She flips her hair and turns to leave. “See you at lunch!”

Chapter Text

            “Alastor.” Husk moves to step into the path of the Radio Demon. “Alastor, I need to talk to you.”

         “Not now, Husker,” Alastor pushes the cat demon aside. He opens a door and peers inside. He immediately closes the door and keeps moving. “I’m on the hunt for Vagatha. She’s wronged me and I need to enact my revenge.”

         “Al, do you think I drink too much?”

         Alastor, who had been about to kneel to search a cabinet, immediately stopped what he was doing “I beg your pardon?”

         The cat demon looks distraught. He pulls at his ears. “Do you think I drink too much?” Husk rubs his arm. “I-I just I’ve been giving it some thought.”

         “I…see.” Alastor says slowly. “Husk, whatever has brought on this unprecedented and uncharacteristic self-reflection?”

         “I’ve been seeing stuff. I mean, sometimes I see stuff when I drink but I’m usually way, way, way, way more sloshed. I’ve barely had three bottles of booze! That’s breakfast for me!”

         “Um…” Alastor’s not sure how else to respond.

         “But I’m seeing stuff, Al! Seeing stuff and I can’t explain it.”

         The Radio Demon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Husk, I have no time for this. Just tell me what you thought you saw so I can find Vaggie and shove her into a dumpster then roll that dumpster down a hill!”

         “Ok! Ok!” Husk takes a deep breath. “I was working the bar, right? Well, Vox was walking around and talking on his phone. Business calls, you know? Ok, so I was standing there and Vox walks by and – and – and he. Had. No. Shadow!”

         Alastor stops. He looks down at his feet then spins around in a circle. “Goddammit!” he snarls.

         Husk looks taken aback by his response. “Alastor?”

         Alastor rubs his temples. “Apologies, Husker. I’m just—ugh. You didn’t hallucinate anything. Apparently, my shadow likes to disobey me.”

         “So, my drinking is fine?”

         “Yes, yes.” Alastor says then stops, realizes what he just said, and immediately tries to backpedal. “Wait, wait, wait. No! I mean, you could stand to drink a little less…”

         “Nope,” Husk grabs a bottle of cheap booze and twists off the top. “You said my drinking was fine. No take backs.”

         Alastor growls and walks off. “One problem at a time, Alastor,” he mutters to himself.

         Alastor needs to find his shadow. He needs to find it now. He teleports to his room.

         Not there.

  If I were a disobedient shadowy fucker, where would I be?

Alastor teleports to the basement. He finds his shadow and Vox’s shadow near the hotel’s radiator.

Alastor’s shadow tosses a ball to Vox’s shadow. Vox’s shadow catches it and holds it up for Alastor’s doppelganger to see. Alastor’s shadow applauds.

Alastor moves back, hiding his presence from the two specters. He watches the two shadows play catch. He doesn’t understand. His doppelganger disobeyed him, doubled back to the hotel, and stole Vox’s shadow all so they could play catch?

Alastor’s head tilts his head to the side and stares.

Vox’s shadow catches the ball, and it almost slips through its hand, but it narrows it eyes in concentration and the ball remains in its hand. Alastor’s shadow applauds once again.

Alastor’s eyes widen because he suddenly understands what he's seeing.

His shadow is teaching Vox’s shadow to solidify at will.

God. Fucking. Damn it.

“You are unbelievable!” Alastor snarls as he makes his presence known. “You!” he points at his shadow. “I told you to come with me and you sneak back to the hotel!”

Alastor’s shadow glides over to stand in front of Vox’s. It hisses at Alastor.

“Do not hiss at me!” Alastor roars. “I—” He takes a breath to calm himself. The Radio Demon needs to think. He glares at his shadow. “This is all your fault. Why can’t you just obey me?”

Alastor’s shadow growls low and backs away. Vox’s shadow just watches the exchange.

Alastor glowers at the shadow. What to do? What to do?

“Boundaries,” Alastor says. “We need to set some boundaries.” The Radio Demon starts to pace. “I’ve come to terms that I can’t stop this—” he gestures at Vox’s shadow. “I don’t even know how this happened, but there needs to be rules!”

Alastor has a sinking suspicion that if the Alastor’s shadow possessed the ability, it would be rolling its eyes right now. “Look,” Alastor says through clenched teeth. “You can’t just steal Vox’s shadow! He needs it. I think? Maybe? The point is, we’re taking Vox’s shadow back to Vox!”

Alastor’s shadow snarls. It tugs at Vox’s shadow, pulling it toward the ceiling.

“Uh-bup-bup-bup!” Alastor snaps his fingers and points at the spot next to him. His shadow claws at the air as it’s pulled to Alastor’s side. Vox’s shadow drifts away from the ceiling. It floats back over to the ball and begins playing with it. Alastor glances at it briefly before turning his attention back to his doppelganger. “You have become impossible to deal with,” Alastor tells it. “I would banish you, but we both know that’s only a temporary fix.” Alastor leans against the wall. “I can’t confine you to my room, we both know you wouldn’t stay there. You tend to wander and you’re bringing other demons’ shadows to life—”

His shadow chitters. Alastor’s brow arches.

“Oh, so you don’t plan on bringing any other shadows to life? Well, that’s a relief. I still can’t let you and your new friend run amok. Although,” Alastor murmurs. “That would make for some delicious entertainment. Also, you’d have something to keep you occupied. No more of your attempts at humor at my expense.” He narrows his eyes as he briefly considers it. “I need more time to think about this. In the meantime, we’re taking Vox’s shadow back to its rightful place and I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

Alastor leads both shadows to Vox’s room, chastising his doppelganger the entire descent down their stairs. “—can’t believe you got caught by Husker! Husker ! A demon who once got so drunk that it took him two weeks to notice I’d dyed his fur green!”

Alastor’s shadow makes a noise of complaint.

“Yes, yes. I do suppose you would have gone unnoticed for longer if he was still drinking at his pre-Angel amount. Still, you need to be careful. What if someone else had noticed? Vaggie? Charlie?” Alastor knocks on Vox’s door. “Vox? It’s me!”

When he gets no response, Alastor begins to worry. “Oh no.” He feels around in coat. Did he still have that key?

Vox’s shadow passes through the door. A second later, it swings open. Alastor breathes a sigh of relief. He walks in, ignoring his shadow’s smug expression as he makes his way to Vox’s side. “Oh no.”

It was as he feared. Vox’s screen flickers with the images of the countless screens on the wall. He sits with one hand gripping the arm of his throne. The other rests with the palm up and fingers slightly curled.

“Vox?” Alastor whispers and gives the Overlord’s shoulder a shake.

Help me.

Alastor jerks backwards. The words on Vox’s face appear and disappear so quickly that the Radio Demon almost thinks he imagined them.

Vox’s shadow floats near Vox. It lowers its head to Vox’s neck and gives a curious sniff. It trills and its eyes go wide. It turns to Alastor and points at him.

“Yes,” Alastor says, not understanding. “What is it?”

Vox’s shadow points at Vox then back at Alastor. When Alastor continues to stand there staring, the TV headed shadow growls. It floats over to Alastor’s shadow, turns back to make sure Alastor is watching, and grabs hold of the doppelganger’s hand.

It points once more at Vox.

Alastor nods. He slips his hand into the hand not gripping the armrest and entwines his fingers with Vox’s. He waits.

It doesn’t take long. Vox’s eyes open and he emits a pained gasp. “Holy fuck!” Vox shudders and falls back against his throne. He lets his head fall to the side so he can look up at the Radio Demon. “Alastor? I’m so glad you’re here.”

Alastor ignores the growing heat in his cheeks caused by that statement. “What happened,” he demands. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I—whoa.” Vox reels for a moment. “Sorry. I just…whew.”

“Vox, I thought you said you didn’t usually lose yourself like this!”

“And I don’t! I swear! I was just doing some routine stuff and I,” Vox shakes his head. “I got a customer complaint about one of my products and I was going through the schematics, trying to understand what was causing the issue and it just kept leading me down more and more. It’s happened before.”

“It’s happened before, and you still wanted to do it?” Alastor tries to keep the worry from his voice and fails miserably.

“I usually have a backup! I found that an outside tactile source acting as my anchor can bring me back to…well, me.” Vox frowns. “But the damned thing must have slipped from hand.” He gives Alastor a bright smile. “I’m just glad you were here.” He squeezes Alastor’s hand.

         That damned heat in his face returns and Alastor has a harder time ignoring it. So, he settles on distracting himself with anger. “And what if I hadn’t been here, Vox? Would you have been stuck?”

         “No! I could have gotten out myself! It just takes much longer than if I had my anchor.”

         Alastor narrows his eyes. “How much longer,” he asks.

         Vox averts his eyes. Never a good sign.

         “Vox. Don’t lie to me.”

         “A couple of days,” Vox replies, his voice small. “Three at most.”

         Alastor inhales sharply. “You could have been stuck like that for three days?”

         “At most,” Vox insists. “It’s usually only two!”

         “Vox, that’s not better!” Alastor wants to be calm, but it feels like every part of his brain is screaming and his heart is trying to hammer out of his chest. “I—we would have never known there was anything wrong with you!”

         “Oh, come on,” Vox tries to joke. “I’m sure the princess would have done one of her welfare checks when I didn’t show up for a meal.” He chuckles. When he sees Alastor’s not laughing, he stops. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

         “Well, you did.” Alastor snaps. “Vox, I don’t understand how any of this works,” he gestures at Vox’s wires and screens. “I barely know anything about your abilities. I don’t know when something you’re doing is normal or worrisome. All I know is that you asked me to help you and I didn’t know how. And now I learn that if I hadn’t figured to take your hand you would have been lost to m—us for up to three days?!”

         A bundle of wires and cables rise from the floor, bulging and shifting until they form a chair. Alastor gratefully takes a seat. Vox sighs, “I’m sorry.” He lowers his eyes. “I guess I’m just used to doing this by myself when needed. Before I only had two options. The first was working while Valentino slept beside me so I could use him as my anchor, but that wasn’t realistic. Valentino only spent the night when he felt like it and even then, it meant only a night of work. The second was just going by myself and coming back when I managed. I had everything automated as a just-in-case scenario. Timed emails and messages, so no one knew what I was doing.” Vox’s screen flickers for just a moment. “I couldn’t risk it. My powers are amazing. I can see and hear everything. I can keep track of all the information and data from all over Hell and use it to my advantage. I can mine data from every click, reblog, retweet, and search inquiry and use that information to push a product. But,” Vox’s face falls. “I’m at my most vulnerable when I dive too deep. I can’t move. Sometimes I’m barely aware. The worst times are when I am aware but still can’t move. It’s like a fucked up state of sleep paralysis. Anything could happen to me, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it.” He shudders. “You and Charlie are the only people who know about it. I couldn’t risk telling anyone else. I almost told Valentino, but I chickened out.” Vox chuckles sadly then his face morphs into an expression of horror. “Holy fuck, I almost told Valentino.” He groans and falls back against his chair.

         Alastor sits there, silently absorbing all the information Vox just told him. He hadn’t known about the caveats of Vox’s power, but he had always suspected that the TV Demon had exploitable weaknesses. Once upon a time, Alastor would have used this information to his advantage. That time had long since passed. “Vox, swear to me that you’ll be careful. It sounds like there are so many ways that this could go wrong for you.”

         Vox nods. “Yeah, I get it. I can’t promise you anything though. Not that I don’t want to,” he adds quickly when he see’s the Radio Demon’s expression. “It’s just I don’t really know it’s happening until it happens. There’s not really a warning system in place. It’s more, like,” Vox huffs, frustrated. “Okay it’s like when you accidentally leave your wallet at home. You don’t realize you’ve done it until you’re out the door and down the street.”

         That does not put Alastor at ease. Alastor’s eyes move to look just over Vox’s shoulder. Unbeknownst to the Overlord, his shadowy doppelganger hovers beside him. Alastor’s brows knit. He has an idea, but he doesn’t like it.

Still, if it keeps Vox safe…Alastor absentmindedly brushes his thumb along Vox’s knuckles.

         The two of them freeze as the realization that they’ve been holding hands this entire time catches up to them.

         They wrench their hands apart and put a little distance between each other, coughing and clearing their throats in embarrassment.

         “So,” Vox says loudly. “Not to sound ungrateful, but what brings you to my room?”

         Alastor blinks. Fuck.

         Hmm. How to play this?

         Well, Vox, my increasingly disobedient shadow brought your shadow to life. I have no idea how it did so, nor do I know how to return your shadow to dormancy.

         Nope.

         “I was bringing you this,” Alastor says. He waves a hand and materializes the box that Vox asked him to retrieve from his tower.

         The TV Demon’s face floods with snow. He takes the box and clutches it against his chest. He glances at Alastor and notices that the Radio Demon’s smile has taken a soft, knowing curl. He groans. “You saw it?”

         “Yes, but I sensed what it was even before I looked in the box.” Alastor’s grin widens. “The question is why do you have that?”

         Vox mutters something and Alastor tilts his head. He cups a hand to his ear, “You’ll have to speak up, Vox.”

         “I said, ‘I use it to listen to your show’.” The snow on Vox’s screen increases as he continues, “I’ve been listening to it in secret.”

         “Why?”

         Vox shrugs. “Well, at first, I told myself it was just recon. A way to keep tabs on an enemy. I would tune in and listen, trying to catch any important details you might let slip. Soon, it became a weekly thing. My dirty little secret that quickly became my favorite pastime. You’re my favorite way to unwind.”

         Alastor can’t believe it. This entire time Vox has been a secret fan. He probably shouldn’t let the TV demon know that radios (especially ones from around his time) act the same way modern technology works for him. In fact, if Alastor had known Vox had possessed this radio, he would have used it to spy on the other Overlord.

         Bur Vox doesn’t need to know that.

         “Fascinating,” Alastor says. “Well, I’ll have to give you special mention in tomorrow’s show.”

         Vox’s eyes are barely visible in the staticky snow. “You promised not to make fun of me,” he whines.

         “And I’m not,” Alastor laughs. “I swear!”

         Vox snorts and catches a slight movement. “Oh, hey. It’s your shadow. Is he acting better now?”

         Alastor lets out a harsh bark of laughter. “Absolutely not! In fact, it’s becoming an increasing problem that I need to figure out how to deal with!”

         Alastor’s doppelganger sneers at Alastor. It floats over to Vox and to Alastor’s mortification, begins curling around the other Overlord. It wraps its arms around Vox and nuzzles the side of his face. Vox laughs, surprised by the shadow’s actions. “I had no idea your shadow was so friendly, Alastor.”

         Alastor’s doppelganger gives the Radio Demon a calculated look that puts him on edge. Alastor’s jaw falls slack with horror as his shadow begins sliding its hand down Vox’s chest toward his groin.

         Vox shoots out of his seat and almost trips over the wiring on his floor. “Whoa there!” he stammers and puts even more distance between the shadow and himself. “Um, that’s a little too friendly.”

         Alastor bites the inside of his cheek so hard it draws blood as his doppelganger clutches its middle and laughs. “I am so sorry, Vox.” Alastor says as he rises to his feet. He grabs at the shadow who darts away.

         “It’s okay, really.” Vox tells him. “He just surprised me, is all. I definitely wasn’t expecting it to do that.”

         Alastor snarls at his doppelganger who continues to float just out of reach. “You know what? I’m going to ignore you. You’re clearly acting out for attention. Vox, I also brought you this.” He reaches into his coat and produces the bag of freshly ground coffee while simultaneously opening the pocket dimension where he stored Vox’s Moka pot. “I figured you could use it. Also, it would be a nice break from that canned filth you usually drink.”

         Vox gives him a smile. “Alastor, you’re amazing! Ugh, I can’t wait to use this.”

         Alastor buffs his claws against his lapel as he basks in Vox’s compliment. “Well, I should let you get back to work. Unless you’d like to take a break?”

         Vox shakes his head. “I wish,” he says with a sigh. “But I still got more emails to send. That’s what I was doing before I got distracted by the complaint. I think I opened the complaint because it was something for me to do other than sending those fucking apology emails.” Vox groans and pops his neck. “Still got loads more to do. I fucked over a lot of people when I caused that black out.”

         “Will you join us for lunch?”

         “Of course! You did say I should eat real food instead of my energy drinks.” Vox winks. “Although, I also recall you promised me your famous etouffee.”

         Now it’s Alastor’s turn to blush. “Yes, well. I never claimed it was famous, but it is damned good. Perhaps, I’ll make us some for dinner? In my room. Not downstairs. While I’m happy to share my culinary skills, I’d prefer just making this for the two of us.”

         Vox agrees and Alastor leaves the room feeling lighthearted. As he closes the door, he sees Vox’s shadow is in its proper place, mimicking Vox’s movements. Alastor glares at his shadow then sighs. “It seems that your manipulation of Vox’s shadow has worked out in my favor,” he tells it. “I need you to continue interacting with it. It’s the only way I can be alerted if Vox starts to literally lose himself in his work.”

         Alastor’s shadow nods enthusiastically. “Good,” Alastor says. He grabs at the shadow, wrapping a hand around its wrist before it can move. “But be advised, I want no more of those shenanigans. You are not to ever touch Vox in such a manner!”

         The doppelganger narrows its eyes and for a moment they have a silent war of wills. Finally, his shadow nods in agreement and Alastor breathes a relieved sigh.

         “Good! Now that that’s out of the way, let’s move on. Plenty of work to be done before lunch. We should find out what we’re having for lunch.” Alastor chatters as he walks.

         “Alastor!”

         The Radio Demon turns at the sound of his name and sees Vox running to catch him. The TV Demon skids to a stop in front of Alastor. “Hey, how ya doing?” Vox says and leans against the wall. He pulls at his collar as he takes a few seconds to catch his breath. “So, I was thinking and hear me out, what if instead of having lunch with everyone else, I take you out for sushi?”

         Alastor stands there frozen in amazement. Unfortunately, Vox misinterprets his silence. The other Overlord starts backing away. “You know what? I’m sorry. You’re right. It was stupid. I’m stupid. Sorry to bother you. You have your own shit to do. I shouldn’t have – never mind. I’m just going to go back to my room and just…work.”

         Alastor blocks his path with well-placed shadow tentacles. “Now, now, Vox,” Alastor tuts. “You should wait until I respond before you sound the retreat.” Alastor’s gaze softens. “I would very much like to join you for lunch.”

         The smile on Vox’s face shines with a brightness that could rival the very sun. “Ok,” he says. He tries and fails to put his face in a more neutral expression. “Cool. That’s great. I will see you around…two?”

         “Two works for me.”

         “Cool! We can have a late lunch.” Vox looks absolutely delighted. He opens his mouth to say something more but stops. Vox’s eyes stare at something directly behind Alastor.

         The Radio Demon growls and whirls around, prepared to yell at his shadow for whatever it’s doing, but his shadow’s on the wall and behind him stands:

         Niffty.

         The maid bounces on her feet, clutching a dust rag between her hands, a manic smile on her face. “Oh man,” she whispers. “Oh man! Oh man! Oh man!”

         Alastor closes his eyes and prays for strength. “Niffty, my dear. I’m going to ask you to—”

         “Oh man! Oh man! Oh man! Oh man!” Niffty bouncing increases in speed. “Oh man!”

         “Niffty…”

         “You got a date!” Niffty blurts. She throws the rag in the air and points at Alastor with one hand and Vox with the other. Niffty throws backs her head and yells at the top of her lungs, “You two are going on a date!”

         Alastor tries to shush her. “It is not a date!” He protests.

         Vox nods in agreement. “Yeah! We’re just going out for lunch!” He pauses and adds, “As friends.”

         “Friends! Yes, exactly!”

         Niffty doesn’t seem to hear. She hops in place for a minute or two more before coming to a stop. She drops onto her hands and scuttles backward, keeping direct eye contact the entire time until she rounds a corner.

         Vox and Alastor shudder. “Well,” Alastor says carefully. “That’s less than ideal.” He looks over at Vox. He gives the TV Demon a half-smile. “Still, I look forward to our outing.”

         “Same,” Vox agrees. He gives Alastor a warm smile. “Well, see you later.”

         Alastor folds his arms behind his back and inhales deeply as he watches Vox leave. His shadow peels off the wall and chitters at the deer demon. Alastor slaps at it. “Oh, shut up. I don’t want to hear anything from you. You’ll get to see more of his shadow, so you have no reason to complain.”

         Angel Dust pokes his head around the corner, “Heeey, Alastor.”

         “Ugh.” The Radio Demon has no desire to talk to the spider demon and he turns to leave.

         Angel laughs. “Great to see you too, Smiles. So, first off let me just say congratulations on your big date with Vox!”

         Alastor’s neck cracks around like an owl. Angel presses himself against the wall, freaked out by the sight of Alastor’s head turned around like that. “I beg your pardon,” Alastor seethes. His expression clears and he laughs. “How did you hear about it?”

         “Niffty.”

         The veins in Alastor’s throat bulge as he suppresses the urge to scream. “Is that so,” he bites out.

         Angel nods. “Yep! She’s been telling everybody.”

         Of course, she has.

         “Ha! Well, Niffty has many wonderful qualities that would be wasted if I were to break her neck!”

         Angel smiles knowingly. “Oh, please. You wouldn’t hurt Niffty. Everyone knows she’s your favorite.”

         Alastor gasps, affronted. “I do not have favorites,” he sniffs. “I treat all of those lucky enough to be in my service equally and fairly.”

         “So, you’ve dyed Niffty green?”

         “Ha! I can’t believe he told you about that! Hilarious!”

         Angel rolls his eyes. “Uh-huh. Look, back to the subject at hand. Are you nervous?”

         “No,” Alastor says through clenched teeth, “because it’s not a date.”

         “Niffty says—”

         “Well, Niffty is wrong!” Alastor’s eyes bounce with radio frequencies. He clears his throat. “If that’s all…”

         “Wait, Smiles.” Angel moves closer but doesn’t encroach on the deer demon’s space. “I need to talk to you about something. It’s about work and my lack of it.”

         Alastor narrows his eyes. “Go on.”

         “As you’re aware, I’m sorta out of a job.” Angel rubs one of his upper arms. “I’ve been applying for stuff but after decades working for Val, my skills don’t exactly transfer.”

         Alastor nods. Yes, he could see that.

         “Not that I’d get any callbacks to begin with,” Angel says, glumly. “Nobody in this city will risk getting on Valentino’s bad side.”

         “What about rivals,” Alastor asks. “Surely, Valentino must have a few imitators out there.”

         Angel snorts with laughter. “Al, if Val had any competition, he snuffed it out long ago and anyone still running around—”

         “Would be too weak to be a threat,” Alastor finishes.

         Angel nods. “And by consequence not doing well enough to hire or pay me,” he says. Angel sighs. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s awesome being away from that prick, but I need money.”

         Alastor hums in agreement. “Give me some time to think of a solution,” he tells Angel. “For the time being, please keep Niffty out of my hair. I feel like she’s going to be a handful.”

         “Oh, that’s not even the half of it.” Angel Dust reaches into his chest fluff and pulls out a stack of bound papers. “Fresh off the presses, bossman.”

         Alastor groans. “How? When? She just learned about it!”

         “Oh, this isn’t about your date. This got created after she found out about you running errands for Vox.”

         Alastor runs a hand down his face. “That reminds me,” he growls. “Have you seen Vaggie?” When Angel Dust shakes his head, the Radio Demon mutters, “She can’t hide from me forever!”

         Angel holds up his hands. “I don’t know what’s going on and I want it to stay that way. Gotta keep that sweet, sweet plausible deniability.” Angel waves at Alastor. “Look, I’ll be on my way. You got a date to get ready for, after all. Try to look your best!”

         “It’s not a date!”

         “Sure, Smiles.” Angel says with a wink. “You keep telling yourself that.”

         Alastor stands in the hotel lobby. He’s changed clothes and he’s pretending that the fact he did so isn’t that big a deal. He’s only switched out his coat for a red and black striped vest over his shirt, but by the way the others are staring, you’d think he was wearing a full tuxedo.

         “Would you please stop staring at me,” Alastor says for what feels like the millionth time.

         Charlie looks misty-eyed. “I’m just happy,” she whispers. She fans her eyes and sniffs. “You look so nice for your date.”

         Alastor’s teeth grind. “It’s not a date,” he snaps. “It’s an outing.”

         Husk smirks from behind the bar. “Aw! Why are you fighting it, Al? Just bask in the romance.”

         “Husker, I will shave a bald spot onto your back,” Alastor hisses. “Don’t any of you have anything better to do?”

         “Nope,” Husk says.

         “Not really,” Charlie shrugs.

         “Not until three,” Angel mutters.

         Vaggie looks up from her book, shrugs, then goes back to reading.

         Niffty doesn’t reply. She just stares and smiles. It’s unnerving.

         Vox walks into the lobby wearing a button-down black shirt, simple black slacks, and a thin blue tie. The entire outfit looks effortlessly casual but Alastor suspects that each article of clothing is ridiculously expensive. Vox looks up from readjusting his tie and smiles at Alastor. He looks around as if noticing the others and looks momentarily shocked before adopting a relaxed expression “Well, the gang’s all here,” he jokes. “Come to see us off?”

         “You’ll find the residents of the Hazbin Hotel to be very supportive,” Alastor attempts to hide his annoyance with humor of his own. “Even when we don’t want them to be.”

         “We just wanted to make sure you both left the hotel safe,” Charlie says.

         “Leave the hotel safe?” Vox arches a brow. “Was something supposed to happen as we were leaving?”

         She laughs. “No! Of course not! You never know though!”

         Alastor rolls his eyes. “We should be on our way, Vox.”

         “Don’t stay out too late,” Husk yells. He gives Alastor another smirk. “Should we instill a curfew for you two crazy kids?”

         Alastor doesn’t reply, but he runs several revenge scenarios through his head as he and Vox exit the hotel. Hmm. The real question would be where would he find that many ants at this time of year?

         “So,” Charlie skips up. “How are you two getting to your date?” Alastor bites back a snarl. “Ooh, do you want to take my limo? Oh! Or maybe you’d like a private car?”

         Vox looks at Alastor. “Can you drive?”

         “Yes,” Alastor says with a nod.

         Husk spits out his drink. “Whoa,” he shouts. “I think you need to ask some follow up questions.” He glowers at Alastor,

         Vaggie looks up again from her book. “Can you drive without killing people?”

         Alastor throws back his head and laughs. “Oh, absolutely not. Believe it or not, my body count behind the wheel is higher than it ever was when I was an active serial killer! It’s quite amazing!”

Vox calls them a ride on his phone. He and Alastor climb into the back seat. “Afternoon, gents,” the Sinner demon doffs his cap at them. He smiles, displaying crooked teeth with the greenish-yellow color of molding cheese. “Anything you boys might need, I got. I got gum, mints, floss, nail files, lotion, lube, and condoms,” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I got assorted sizes for whatever type of dongle you dangle. No judgment.”

         Vox gives laughs awkwardly, “Er, thanks man, but we’re good. We just need you to drop us off at the Fisherman’s Wife.”

         “Ooh la-la! I heard about that place. Real upscale. Check you out, Mr. Fancy.” The driver winks a crusty eye. “Sure you’re not needing anything? If I took my date somewhere that fancy, I’d expect them to put out.”

         Alastor’s had enough of this. “What we need,” he leans forward and snarls. “Is for you to turn around in your seat and silently drive us to the requested location or I will use your entrails to floss my teeth.”

         The driver turns and starts the car.

         Vox gives the Radio Demon an appreciative smile before pulling out his phone. Alastor could have been annoyed by the TV Demon’s attention being on his phone, but honestly, he considers it a compromise.

         Vox shifts in his seat and sort of rests on Alastor as he continues working. The Radio Demon finds he doesn’t mind this breach of his personal space.  “I hope you like this place,” Vox says as he continues to scroll. “I know you’ve never had sushi, but the menu’s so extensive that I’m sure we’ll find something you’ll like.”

         “Well, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ve eaten raw flesh, so I imagine raw fish isn’t any different.”

         The car weaves when the driver looks back at Alastor in the rearview mirror. The Radio Demon’s eyes flash. “Eyes on the road, sir.”

         They arrive at the Fisherman’s Wife with no complications. Vox holds the door for Alastor as a Sinner demon with the lower half of a squid slithers up. “Good afternoon,” she greets.

         “Afternoon,” Vox smiles. “Vox, party of two. I called ahead.”

         The demoness’ eyes light up with recognition. “Of course, Mr. Vox! Welcome! We have your requested table in the Crane Room. This way.”

         Alastor notices that the demons that work at the Fisherman’s Wife all have tentacles. Some have tentacles in place of arms. Others have regular demonic features from the torso up, but their lower halves are clusters of tentacles. Some just have tentacles where hair would be. When he asks Vox about it, the TV headed demon looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “It’s a theme,” Vox explains. “You should ask Niffty and Angel about it.”

         “Ah, so it’s a sex thing?”

         “Yeah, it’s a sex thing.”

         Sex thing or not, the Crane Room is lovely. Their table is surrounded by potted bamboo creating a literal privacy wall of green. An octopoid light fixture covered in red and black crystals hangs above the table. Alastor marvels at the décor as they take a seat. “Lovely,” he whistles. “Have you been here before?”

         “Once or twice,” Vox confesses. “Usually by myself. Valentino wasn’t really big on this place. Not a sushi fan. Velvet pretty much only came to take photos of the food or during lunch if they had bento boxes.” He shrugs. “I didn’t really mind. Sometimes it’s nice to eat by yourself. I got more work done that way.”

         Alastor’s starting to sense a pattern, but he keeps it to himself.

         Alastor’s shadow slides across the floor and reaches for Vox’s. Alastor sighs but knows he can’t say anything. He did tell his doppelganger that it would be able to interact with Vox’s.

         The two shadows slide off to who-knows-where leaving Alastor and Vox alone.

         Vox doesn’t seem to notice his missing shadow, so thank goodness for small favors.

         Alastor picks up his menu and studies it. It doesn’t take long for the deer demon to realize he has no idea what any of the listed items are and he informs Vox of that fact,

         “No problem,” Vox signals for the server. A neon pink tentacle demon slides up, leaving a thin trail of slime. “So, I may have cheated and ordered for the both of us, but I got a good reason. I’m getting us the Emperor’s Feast.”

         “And that is?”

         “Every sushi and nigiri item they got on the menu,” Vox explains. “That’s why I called ahead. They needed time to prepare it.”

         A slow smile spreads over Alastor’s face. “I see,” he says. Alastor leans forward and cups his chin in his hand. “So, this wasn’t a spontaneous outing on your part? Tell me, how long was this plan in the making?”

         All at once, Vox’s bravado leaves him. “I-I mean, we were talking about it the other day and I just thought—”

         Alastor laughs, to show that he was only teasing. If anything, he’s touched that the Media Overlord has kept him in his thoughts. “Well, whatever the case, I look forward to trying this sushi.”

         Vox breathes a sigh of relief. He orders them a couple of beers, a bottle of umeshu, and a bottle of sweet potato shochu. “Since you’re Southern and all,” he teases. He also orders them an appetizer sampler of grilled meats and dumplings.

         Alastor looks worried by the sheer amount of food Vox orders, but the TV Demon waves off his concerns. “We can take any leftovers to the hotel,” he tells Alastor. “That way they won’t come snooping when you make your etouffee.”

         “Will you even want etouffee after all of this?”

         Vox winks. “I’ll save room.”

         Four servers come out from a set of swinging doors holding what could only be described as three feet long and two feet high lacquered wooden boats. Alastor watches as they put the boats on the table. Vox makes a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Bon Appetit,” he says as he picks up his chopsticks. Vox snaps them apart. “By the by, no judgment if you want to use your hand. I’m guessing chopsticks are just as new to you.”

         Alastor doesn’t deny it, but he copies Vox’s movements, picking up his chopsticks and breaking them apart in a similar manner. Vox shows him how to hold them and seems impressed when the Radio Demon picks up his first piece with no issue. “Look at you,” Vox whistles. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

         Alastor chuckles and looks appropriately abashed by the compliment. “Afraid not. I’m just a quick study. Now, how about you tell me what I’m about to put into my mouth?”

         There’s a beat of silence.

         Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “You’re almost as bad as Angel.”

         Vox snickers. “Hey, I didn’t say a word.” The TV Demon picks up a piece of sushi. “Okay, you got a California Roll and I got Octopus.”

         “And what are these items on the side?”

         “The green stuff’s wasabi – think of it as a seasoning. That white stuff is pickled radish and the pink slivers are ginger. You eat the ginger as a palate cleanser.”

         “I see,” Alastor murmurs. He sets the California roll down onto his plate and uses the tip of his chopsticks to break a dime-sized chunk of the wasabi free. He smears it on top of sushi roll. Vox is already on his second roll as he watches Alastor. The Radio Demon picks up his roll, lifts it in toast to Vox, and pops it into his mouth.

         Alastor starts gagging. His eyes water and his nose starts dripping like a faucet. “Sweet, baby Jesus,” he wheezes. Through his tears he can see Vox watching him with naked amusement. “You knew that was going to happen?”

         Vox nods. He points at the wasabi. “You have to use it sparingly.”

         “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

         Vox snorts. “What? No way! It’s a right of passage. Every sushi virgin almost always makes the same mistake with wasabi.” He grins and hands the other Overlord a napkin so he can clean his face. “Wanna hear about my first time? I took a chunk this big—” He breaks off a chunk to demonstrate. “—and I just ate it because I thought it was some weird vegetable. I felt like I was dying.” Vox shakes his chopstick until the wasabi dislodges and falls back onto the platter. “Does that make you feel better?

         Alastor has to admit that it does. Still, his ego is a little bruised. “If I were a weaker man, I’d start to question our budding friendship,” he says. He picks up another California roll. “As it stands, you’re on thin ice, mister.”

         Vox leans over the table and knocks the California roll out of Alastor’s sticks. “Nope! I got us a sampler, Alastor. So, do some sampling! You can’t just stick with one!”

         Alastor sighs. He picks up a roll that isn’t covered with the green wrapping. “Fatty tuna,” Vox informs him.

         Alastor takes a bite. “Hmm. Maybe,” he says. He sets the half-eaten piece aside.

         Alastor eventually claims three small plates as his own and uses them to sort his meal into Like, Dislike, and Maybe I Like it But I’m Going to Move On. Vox isn’t shy about swooping in and claiming anything put on the Dislike plate, not that Alastor minds. Better than it going to waste.

         The TV Demon is helping himself to Alastor’s tomago (“If it’s an egg why is it sweet, Vox?”) when he catches a glimpse of something over Alastor’s shoulder. He sighs heavily and shakes his head. “Well, it took them long enough.”

         “What’s that?” Alastor asks, mouth full of sashimi. He looks behind him while he adds more pieces to the Like plate. He can see glowing eyes peering at them through the bamboo.

         Vox rolls his eyes. “Paparazzi,” he explains in a mildly annoyed tone. “Surprised it took them this long to show up. Hey guys,” he wiggles his fingers in a wave. “Here to bother me during my nice meal?”

         An imp with a camera almost as big as him grins. “Aw, don’t be that way, Vox.” He says as he snaps a picture. “We’re just here to snap a few pics. Don’t mind us. Just go about your business.”

         “Yeah,” a Sinner demon pipes up. She has six hands and each has their own phone. “Who’s your date? We know ’em?”

         Alastor turns in his seat. He snickers at the sharp inhales when the paparazzi recognize him. “You’re disturbing my meal,” he tells them. Alastor’s smile stretches when one brave soul points his camera directly at him. “Oh, I wouldn’t if I were you. You’ll find I’m—” the camera being held by the demon explodes the second he snaps a picture. “—camera shy.”

         “My fucking camera,” the demon screams. He cradles it like it’s a baby. “You fucker!” When Alastor starts to rise from his seat, the demon yelps and flees.

         Vox laughs. “Look, if I let you idiots take some pictures of me will you leave us alone? We’re trying to have a nice meal.”

         More paparazzi appear within the bamboo. Alastor’s not sure how the other Overlord can stand it. They demons fight for Vox’s attention, screaming at him to look this way and that. The Media Overlord obliges, smiling and posing with no fight so he can get rid of the shutterbugs as fast as possible. The fools learned quickly not to attempt to take the Radio Demon’s picture especially after another photographer accidentally caught Alastor in his frame, causing the lens to explode with such force that the glass embedded in the poor Imp’s eye. Vox works the camera, laughing and making jokes with the demons he’s more familiar with.

“Hey, Skuzzy. How’s your mom?”

“Blamp, what’s the big idea of photographing my bad side last time?”

“Hysteria, your sister pop out her kid yet?”

Alastor finds himself impressed. Lord knows, if he was in Vox’s shoes these demons would have found themselves splattered over the restaurant’s lovely walls.

         All and all, it goes well until an insectoid Sinner demon appears. The curvy demoness unwraps a piece of gum and slides it between fanged teeth. She doesn’t seem to be a regular if the confused murmuring from the other photographers is anything to go by. “Who the fuck are you?” Hysteria snarls. “You can’t just show up and—”

         The demoness gives the Hellhound a dirty look. “I’ll let you know when I want some dumb bitch’s opinion.” The Sinner demon sneers. She pulls out an expensive looking camera phone and points it directly at Vox. “Name’s Slamma,” she says and pops her gum. “Be a good boy and pose for me.”

         The other demons present suck in a sharp breath. Vox narrows his eyes at this new demon. “Who do you work for?” he asks.

         “Terror Times,” Slamma replies. She pops her gum again.

         “Never heard of you,” Vox says coolly.

         “We’re new,” Slamma shrugs. “How about a picture?”

         “Fine,” Vox says. He’s anxious to be rid of her. “Take a picture.” He smiles brightly at her and gives her a charming wink.

         Slamma snaps a pic or two then frowns. “I need something more raw and real than you fucking grinning at me,” she complains. Slamma suddenly smiles. “Heard about your big fallout with Valentino. Heard he knocks you around. I would say that sucks, but seeing as you’re already on the rebound, who's to say you didn’t have it coming?”

         The change in Vox is instantaneous. One second, he’s smiling the next his expression shutters and he’s staring down at his hands. Alastor whirls around in his seat. He will not stand for this.

         “Hold on, Alastor,” Vox says. He picks up one of his chopsticks and begins to spin it idly. “Slamma, was it?”

         “Yeah,” the Sinner demon says. She snaps another picture. “What of it?”

         “Mind coming here for a second?”

         Slamma groans as if the action of walking the few feet is too much trouble. When Vox doesn’t say anything for a minute, she puts a hand on her hip and exhales an impatient huff of air. “Well? You got something to say or are just going to play with your stick all day?”

         Vox continues to spin his chopstick. He gives her a sidelong glance. “How long has your paper been running?”

         Slamma blinks. A cocksure smile slides on her face. “Couple of months,” she says proudly. “Our readership keeps growing.”

         “Congratulations,” Vox says. “Bet you wish you could have been a part of it longer.”

         “Yeah, I—wait,” Slamma blinks. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

         Vox’s reaches up and grabs hold of the back of Slamma’s neck, pulling her forward and driving the chopstick he’d been twirling directly into her eye. He shoves it in, using enough force that it exits out of the back of her head. Slamma drops to the floor, not dead but probably wishing she was. The TV headed demon takes a deep, calming breath. A server appears with a fresh pair of chopsticks for the Media Overlord. Vox thanks them before looking at the remaining paparazzi. “Last call for pictures. Get some good ones then fuck off.”

         The remaining photographers know better than to complain and obediently snap pictures of a now thoroughly irritated Vox.

         “No, no, no,” Alastor says. He slides from his seat and pulls his chair next to Vox. “This simply won’t do! Where’s your showmanship, Vox?”

         Vox looks at him tiredly. “I think my showmanship’s been spent, Alastor.” He casts a sour look at Slamma’s softly moaning form.

         “Nonsense!” Alastor throws an arm around Vox. “A moment, my fine gentle demons. Vox,” he addresses the other Overlord. “Do you really want these fine folks to print pictures of you wearing that dour expression? Why, what would people think?”

         “Alastor, I could care less—”

         “You really want a certain moth demon – who will remain nameless – seeing you look so miserable?”

         Vox falls silent.

Alastor nods. “Let’s see if we can turn that frown upside down, shall we?”

         Vox sighs. “I get what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate it, but I just don’t think I’m in a smiling moo—the fuck?!” he squawks as Alastor extends his tongue and runs it along the length of his face.

         A hush falls over the paparazzi and they stand there frozen as Vox can only stare at the Radio demon in shocked silence.

         Alastor puts a hand over his heart. “Apologies,” he says. “You just always seem to feel better after Vark does it. Oh, I see how it is!” Alastor falls back in his chair and pretends to sob. “I’m just not as loveable as a demon shark!” He peeks at Vox and adds, “Hmm, should I try other Vark-like methods? Chew your shoes? Knock you to the ground and sit on you? Maybe breathe heavily and stare at you while you try to eat?”

         Like a storm cloud lifting, a smile breaks out over Vox’s face. The TV Demon starts to laugh, softly at first but then it grows louder and louder. Alastor throws his arm around Vox’s shoulder and joins him in his laughter. Alastor’s arm brings Vox closer as the two of them fall into hysterics.

         Eventually their laughter peters out, the two of them wiping away tears of mirth. Vox gives Alastor a soft smile of gratitude. “Thanks,” he murmurs. “I needed that.”

         “Anytime,” Alastor replies with a soft smile of his own. He suddenly becomes aware that they’re still in the presence of the shutterbugs who have been hungrily snapping pictures this entire time. Alastor pulls away and directs a withering glare to the gathered paparazzi. “That’s enough of that. You got your pictures. Now go before I forget my manners.”

         The demons disappear through the bamboo and Alastor can hear their retreating footfalls. Vox reaches for his drink and takes a deep swig. “You know what? All and all, not that bad an evening.” He signals for a server. “You mind packing this up and getting me the check?” His eyes fall to Slamma who still lies on the ground, breathing shallowly. He looks back at the server. “How much trouble would it be to get an unofficial official request?”

         The server’s yellow octopoid eyes fall to Slamma for a second before rising to meet Vox’s. “How would you like her,” she asks.

         “My friend here was a big fan of the sashimi,” Vox says.

         “Right away, sir,” she wraps one of her tentacled legs around Slamma’s neck and begins to drag her in the direction of the kitchen.

         “Just add it to my tab,” Vox calls. He leans back in his seat and pours another drink.

         Alastor hums. “I’m surprised they were so amicable to the idea of slicing up our unlucky shutterbug.”

         “Ha! You think you’re the first cannibal to eat here? No way.” Vox grins. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you again. You were right. No way I’d ever let pictures of me being mopey get printed for jackasses like Valentino to see.”

         “It was my pleasure,” Alastor summons a hat just so he can tip it.

         “Just don’t ever lick me again.”

         “Oh, well in that case I just have to lick you again.”

         “Don’t you dare!”

         “Oh, I’m gonna! And it will be when you least expect it!” Alastor chortles when Vox gives him a playful shove. “Thank you for bringing me here. Despite the interlopers and the attempted murder, I had a lot of fun.” He pauses to think. “Maybe I had more fun because of the attempted murder.”

         “Hey, she had it coming.”

         “Oh, that she did. That she did,” Alastor’s eyes glow red for a moment. “Still, I’m sure she’ll taste delicious. My goodness, I’ve never had so much fresh supplies! With the remains from Valentino’s studio and this new addition, I won’t have to hunt for a while. My cup runneth over! My icebox too!”

         Vox gives the Radio Demon a considering look. “I’m sure Charlie doesn’t mind you not hunting.”

         “Ah, well. The Princess is unaware of my hobbies.” Alastor puts a finger to his lips. “I’d like to keep it that way too.”

         “And where does she think your extra meat comes from?”

         Alastor has to think about it. Has the princess ever seen him transport his supplies to his room? “I don’t think she knows,” he says slowly as the realization dawns on him. “I usually have Husk or Niffty alert me to her whereabouts after a hunt so I can avoid the tedium of explaining myself.”

         “Or she could be turning a blind eye to it,” Vox suggests. “As long as you’re not murdering people while advertising, you’re with her hotel, she probably doesn’t care.”

         “No, I don’t think so. Charlie’s not like that. She can be infuriatingly naïve and hilariously sheltered at times, but she’s not the type to sweep things under the rug even when that would make things so much easier.”

         “I guess you would know better than me,” Vox reaches for one more roll as another server walks up carrying takeout boxes in his six tentacle arms. He thanks the server as he begins boxing up the sushi remains. “You know, we made a pretty good dent. I guess we can cross sushi off the list of foods you need to try.”

         The server who had taken Slamma to the kitchen, reappears with large box wrapped in a crimson silk cloth. She hands it to Alastor. “Enjoy,” she says with a knowing smile.

         After Vox pays the check, the two of them exit The Fisherman’s Wife. Vox shifts the boxes to reach for his phone then stops. “You up for a stroll,” he asks Alastor.

         “You don’t want to call a ride?”

         “More like I don’t want to deal with a creepy driver trying to hawk his mints and rubbers,” Vox answers. He looks at the sky. “It’s a nice enough evening. What do you say?”

         Alastor’s never one to turn down a good stroll. The two Overlords walk back to the hotel, hauling their leftovers. “Lovely evening or not, aren’t these going to be warm by the time we return?” Alastor lifts a box.

         Vox shrugs. “What kind of demon would die from food poisoning?” he chuckles. “Still you’re right.” He summons a portal, smaller than the ones Alastor conjures and edged with crackling circuitry and tosses the boxes one by one through. He takes the ones Alastor’s holds but wisely avoids the cloth wrapped one. “I figured you’d want to make sure that one gets back,” he grins.

         Alastor nods in agreement and makes his own portal. He summons a shadow moppet and hands it the box. “Place it wherever it can fit,” he tells it.

         Now that their hands are free, the two of them continue their walk in a now unhurried pace.

         Alastor suddenly lunges for Vox. The TV Demon looks frightened then angry for a split second before realizing what the Radio Demon is attempting to do. He bursts out laughing and dodges. “Alastor, no! Augh! Don’t you dare!”

         Alastor attempts to grab Vox, but the Media Overlord dips, dodges, and swerves away. “You’re light on your feet, Vox,” Alastor winks. “But you’ll find I’m the better dancer.” He feints to the left and grabs Vox by the wrists when the TV headed demon falls for it.

         Vox snorts and allows himself to be caught. “Is that so,” he smirks. “What would you know about dancing?”

         Alastor makes a gasp like a scandalized maiden. He releases Vox long enough to tap a circle around the other Overlord, finishing the routine with a flourish of jazz hands. Vox laughs and gives the Radio Demon a respectful applause. “Not bad. Not bad.” Vox says. “I mean, it’s no jitterbug, but it’s still pretty good.”

         “Jitterbug,” Alastor says in a scathing tone. “You mean that dance white folks had to co-opt because they couldn’t figure out how to do a decent lindy hop?”

         Vox gasps and rocks back like he’s been shot. “Ouch! Them’s fightin’ words, Old Man!” Vox growls. He puts his hands on his hips. “I’ll have you know, I Lindy Hop like a goddamned champ!”

         Alastor’s eyes gleam. He looks Vox up and down. “Is that so,” he says in a considering tone. “I’d like to see that.”

         “Well, I’d like to show you,” Vox tells him. A mischievous smile spreads over the TV’s face. “Tell me, Old Man. Have you ever waltzed or was that after your time?”

         Alastor’s eyes narrow. He knows a challenge when he hears one. Alastor conjures his microphone and plants it into the ground like a javelin. “I lead,” he declares as he takes hold of Vox and brings him close. “Classic Viennese or are you thinking Modern?”

“Modern,” Vox answers.

A song begins to play as the two of them begin to take their first few steps. The steps come back to them and the two of them spin and pivot.

Alastor and Vox move in perfect sync. Alastor’s trademark grin softens around the edge to something less frightening and more genuine. The music plays and the two Overlords dance, lost to time and their surroundings…

…until the bright flash of a camera brings them crashing back to the present.

The two demons stop in their tracks and the music playing from Alastor’s cane ends abruptly. A Sinner demon paparazzo stands a short distance away, cursing under his breath as he struggles to turn the flash off on his camera.

Alastor stalks toward the demon, eyes ablaze and claws thirsty for blood. He comes to stop when Vox puts a hand on his arm. “Forget him,” the TV Demon says and rolls his eyes. “Let’s just get back to the hotel.”

Alastor narrows his eyes at the sweating Sinner demon. “You should stay on your toes because I will find you later,” he snarls.

When they’re a good distance away, Vox leans over to Alastor and asks, “You really going to hunt him down later?”

“Oh goodness no,” Alastor laughs, “but the important thing is that he believes I will.”

“Hey, you two,” Angel Dust greets when they enter the hotel. The spider demon cradles Fat Nuggets in his arms. “So, first I just want to thank you for the sushi. The ones we managed to get were delicious.”

Vox frowns. “Wait. You didn’t get all of it? What happened?”

“You need to work on your aim is what happened,” Angel tells him. “You tossed the boxes through your portal thing and some of them landed on the table. Most of them landed on the floor and spilled out. Vark had an absolute field day.”

“Oh no,” the TV Demon moans. “Where’s my baby?”

“Charlie is sitting with him out back while he pukes his guts out. He ate some of the containers too.”

“Why didn’t anyone stop him?”

“Um excuse me,” Angel’s eyes go wide. “I’m not about to go anywhere near a demon shark’s mouth while he’s trying to eat! That’s how you lose a limb!”

Vox doesn’t reply, just stalks toward the back of the house so he can find the door to the backyard.

Alastor watches him go before heading in the direction of the stairs. “Hey, Alastor,” Angel follows him. “You give any thought to our previous conversation?”

“We both know I haven’t.”

Angel Dust rolls his eyes. “Right. Well, I still need a job. A paying one. I was wondering, with you being my new Overlord and all, if you had any suggestions.”

Alastor shrugs. “You don’t really have any skills I can use.”

“But I’m really good with a gun!”

“Yes,” the Radio Demon says slowly. “And you’re also in rehabilitation! What sort of sponsor slash co-manager would I be if I did anything to jeopardize all your hard work?”

“Motherfu—you took me to demolish Val’s club!”

“Shh,” Alastor puts a finger up to his lips and winks. “Not as far as Vaggie and Charlie know.”

Angel fumes. “You are such an asshole!”

Alastor laughs as he gives Angel Dust a grand bow. “I’m well aware,” he responds. “If you’re really hard up for money, why not ask Charlie for a loan or an allowance?”

“I’m not asking her for a fucking allowance. I’m not a child!”

“No. You’re a broke ex-porn star with no transferable skills or prospects, but feel free to continue being picky about where your funds come from,” Alastor gives Angel a condescending smile.

Angel Dust glares at the Radio Demon. “I thought I was trading up when I signed a contract with you.”

Alastor’s eyes harden. He presses the tip of his microphone under Angel’s chin. “Well, that was your mistake,” he says coldly. His eyes glitter with malice. “Not like you haven’t made your fair share of those. Just add another to that long list of failures.”

Angel Dust’s face crumples and he backs away from Alastor. He says nothing as he turns away from the Overlord, hugging Fat Nuggets to his chest. He goes off in the opposite direction, no clear destination in mind just a desire to be away from Alastor.

The deer demon watches his retreating back and feels the slightest, tiniest, nagging feeling that maybe he went a bit too far.

Alastor turns and finds himself face to face with Husk.

The winged cat demon looks absolutely livid. “What the fucking fuck, Al!” Husk snarls.

“Ah, Husker! I wasn’t aware you were conscious! How much of that did you hear?”

“You unbelievable jackass,” Husk spits. “You can shit all over me all ya want—I’m used to it, but you do not get to fucking treat Angel like that! I would’ve never let him sign a contract with you if I had known you were going to be just as awful as Valentino!”

Alastor’s eyes dance with radio waves. “I am nothing like Valentino! Do I force myself upon him? Force him to ingest drugs? Do I put him on a street corner to spread his legs for whatever demon pays? Have I forced him to debase himself in front of a camera? No!” He jabs a finger into Husk’s chest. “Do not ever compare me to Valentino. You should show some gratitude. I am the only reason your lover is free from that man and that life.”

Husk glowers at Alastor. The Radio Demon sees the cat demon’s neck tense and knows deep down that Husk would love nothing more than to hit him, but he’s also smart enough to know what would happen if he did.

Husk’s wings droop and he just sighs. “You really had me going with all that talk about you rooting for our redemption and hoping we’d have a happily ever after.”

“Oh, don’t be that way, Husker,” Alastor pats him on the head. “I meant every word. That doesn’t mean I’m going to hold Angel’s hand until that happens.”

“He’s not asking you to hold his hand! He’s asking for a – a, I don’t know, support system!”

“Since when is that my job?”

“Are you fucking serious?” Husk throws up his hands. “Since you fucking decided that you wanted to help Charlie and Vaggie run a goddamned hotel that doubles as a demon rehab! It’s literally your job!”

Oh. Right.

“Well,” Alastor says and rocks back on his heels. He scratches his chin. “Hmm.”

“Is that all you gotta say?”

Alastor thinks about it. “That's all I have to say at the moment,” he announces before sidestepping Husk and walking briskly in the direction of the stairs. He hears the cat demon calling after him, but Alastor doesn’t stop and sure as hell doesn’t look back.

Once he’s safely back in his room, Alastor locks and latches the door then drops into the nearest seat. “The day started off so well,” he mumbles and rubs his forehead.

Something clatters to the floor in his room.

“Come out,” he orders.

His doppelganger and Vox’s shadow slide from under the door and glide over to him.

Alastor arches a brow. “I was wondering where the two of you went,” he sighs. “Well, your fun’s over. Time for Vox’s shadow to return to Vox.”

Vox’s shadow lets out a disappointed trill.

“None of that,” Alastor frowns. “Go on now. Off with you.”

Vox’s shadow casts a forlorn look at Alastor’s before slipping out of the room in search of the TV Demon.

Alastor’s shadow chitters angrily before settling in its spot at Alastor’s side.

Alastor gives him an unimpressed look. “Yes, well. I guess I’m just raining on everyone’s parade today, aren’t I?” the Radio Demon leans his head back and stares at the ceiling.

The next day, Alastor calls a meeting in his office with Charlie and Vaggie.

“Thank you for joining me, ladies,” Alastor says. He sips from his cup of coffee.

“No problem,” Vaggie says. “To be honest I kinda want to see what this about. You never call meetings.”

“Ooh,” Charlie bounces in her seat. “Are you making a special announcement about how your relationship with Vox has grown and evolved?”

Alastor stares at her. “Why would I call a meeting for that,” he asks.

“Because you’re shy!”

Alastor gives Vaggie a look. It’s a look that Alastor hopes conveys what he’s thinking at that moment:

  Really? This is the person you want to spend the rest of your afterlife with? Her? Your choices and mistakes are your own, Vagatha.

Vaggie covertly flips him off from out of Charlie’s line of sight.

Oh good. She got all that.

“Moving on,” Alastor shuffles some papers. “It has come to my attention that Angel Dust is in need of employment but is having trouble finding anything that he can…do.”

“That makes sense,” Vaggie murmurs.

Alastor nods. “That’s why I’m proposing that the Hazbin Hotel—”

“Do we really need to call it that?”

“Yes, we do, Vagatha. There’s a sign and everything.” Alastor grins. “Now, don’t interrupt, it’s rude. As I was saying, I propose that the Hazbin Hotel provide financial assistance to Angel. Now, I know we can’t call it something like an allowance nor can we give him money for nothing.”

“What if we call it a stipend?” Like a switch being flipped, Business Charlie appears. “You remember the token system I wanted to implement?”

“The plastic coins you wanted to make that said ‘Good Job’ on them? Yes, I remember.”

“Um actually,” Charlie sniffs. “You’ll find that their official title is Redemptokens. Trademark pending.”

Alastor looks at Vaggie again.

The moth demoness doesn’t bother looking at him, just raises her middle finger then adds a second for good measure.

“What about them,” Alastor asks. He can feel a dull ache beginning behind his eyes. This is why he never calls meetings.

“Well, what if whenever Angel meets a Redemptoken threshold—”

“Must we call them that?”

“We’ll change the name of the tokens when you change back the name of the hotel.” Vaggie fires back.

“I’ll change back the name of the hotel over my cold, dismembered corpse!”

Vaggie starts to rise from her seat. “Motherfucker, don’t tempt me!”

“Guys! Guys!” Charlie calls. “We’re getting off-topic.”

Alastor and Vaggie both settle back into their seats. Charlie looks between them. “Are we good? Good. As I was saying, once Angel can exchange his Redemptokens for a stipend that he can reimburse for cash. He can earn tokens by making milestones in his rehabilitation!”

“That’s certainly an option,” Alastor says slowly.

Charlie pouts. “I know when a ‘but’ is coming,” she says.

“But,” Vaggie says gently. “That seems like a slow process. Angel probably wants money sooner rather than later. Who knows how long it would take him to accrue enough Redemptokens to make a stipend of any worth? We haven’t even figured out how much tokens are worth. It’s a good plan, sweetie but just not something that we can implement in the time that Angel needs.”

Charlie nods. Her brow furrows as she ponders something. “Oh my gosh,” Charlie starts excitedly drumming her hands against the top of Alastor’s desk. “What if I call Uncle Ozzie?”

Alastor’s coffee goes down the wrong pipe and he sputters and coughs. “As in Asmodeus,” he rasps. He clears his throat. “What do you think he’d be able to do in this situation?”

“Maybe he can give Angel a spot at his club!”

Vaggie and Alastor exchange a look. “Charlie,” Vaggie says. The moth demon winces, not really eager to point out yet another flaw in her girlfriend’s plan. “Angel is a Sinner Demon—”

“And we can’t leave the Pride Ring,” Alastor finishes. He has no qualms about torpedoing stupid ideas.

Charlie gives them both her smuggest smile. “Yeah, not officially,” she smirks. Charlie makes a big show of examining her nails and adds, “Just like officially an Overlord can’t snipe another Overlord's contracted soul.”

Vaggie puts a hand over her mouth and Alastor falls back in his seat numb with shock. Charlie continues, “If I can get Uncle Ozzie’s permission, we can easily get Angel a job in the Lust Ring. It doesn’t even have to be at Ozzie’s! We can get him a job at one of the shops!”

“And working in the Lust Ring among that debauchery wouldn’t count against your hopes for his redemption?” Alastor asks.

Charlie thinks about it. She shrugs. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” she says. “Right now, we need to help Angel Dust.”

Alastor strokes his chin. If this works, then Angel Dust would be set. Plus…

Imagine the look on Valentino’s face when he learns that his former employee/thrall now worked for none other than the Embodiment of Lust himself. Alastor snickers. “If you can actually get him to agree to it.”

Charlie bounces in her seat. “I’ll call him now!” She hops up and runs out of Alastor’s office.

Alastor drums his fingers against his desk. He glances idly at Vaggie. “You think this will work?”

Vaggie shrugs. “I have no idea. But,” she smiles. “I think that Charlie won’t stop until she makes it happen.” She stands to leave. Just as she reaches the door it slams shut. Vaggie utters a startled yelp of surprise.

Alastor leans on his desk and stares menacingly at Vaggie. “Oh, Vagatha. I was so distracted by Angel’s plight that I almost forgot about your little stunt.” He climbs to his feet. “Almost.”

Vaggie growls and takes a fighting stance.

Alastor lets out an amused snort before opening the void under the moth demon’s feet. Vaggie cries out as she falls through the portal. The Radio Demon leans over and yells, “Have fun on the walk back!” He snaps his fingers and the portal closes. Alastor returns to his seat, kicks up his feet and chuckles to himself. 

Chapter Text

A brief interlude…

         The Media Overlord has two screens up. One has his feed open and the other has his inbox. He’s gotten good at moving from one screen to the other. Nothing important at the moment. Requests for ad space, some emails from the studios he works with asking him to come in for a consultant gig and to direct a couple of their commercials. A game show pitch. A reminder to go to Vogitech and for a routine walkthrough. Forms to sign. Forms to review. Forms, forms, forms. Paperwork out the ass. Invitations to soirees and galas from demons wanting to rub elbows with him in hopes they can sign with him, get him to sign with them, and/or just wanting him to make an appearance.

         And still. More. Fucking. Emails.

         There’s an email from Bapper & Co. with attached photos showing their progress with their repairs. Everything looks good and he lets them know he appreciates their hard work.

         He sends a quick Fuck You email to 666 News and their requests for an interview. He knows that they only want to talk to him for a rebuttal interview in response to that Velvet interview. He tells Katie in no uncertain terms that there will be no interviews and that if she continues to fuck with him, 666 News will find itself closing down and she and Tom can take a chance getting jobs at fucking WacDonald’s.

         Vox leans back into his seat and rubs his face. This would go so much faster if he could just plug in, but he got sloppy the last two times. Went too deep and got sucked in. He didn’t want to suffer through that again.

         He certainly didn’t want to see that look on Alastor’s face again. Vox still remembers. The Radio Demon had been smiling like always, but it was forced, and Vox can still remember that helpless look in his eyes when Vox had made that sound of pain.

If anyone had ever told him that he would ever be friends with Alastor the Fucking Radio Demon, he would have laughed in their face then shot them in the stomachs for having the fucking gall.

         Now look at him. Hanging out with Alastor. Enjoying that he can hang out with Alastor. Being a little bummed when he can’t hang out with Alastor. Treating Alastor to lunch and being treated to dinner in turn.

         To think, none of this would have happened if he hadn’t gotten his shit wrecked by that rat-faced sonuvabitch and left for dead. The shame Vox had felt when he realized through the haze of pain and the slipping in and out of consciousness that it was Alastor who had found him. Vox had honestly feared the worst.

He continued to fear the worst even when Alastor and Niffty picked him and his bits of broken glass up and carried them to the hotel. He feared the worst when he was brought to Alastor’s room. Who knew what the Radio Demon had planned for him? He knew Alastor was a cannibal. Vox expected to find himself on a slab and primed for carving. Imagine his surprise when he woke up in a soft bed, injuries cleaned and wrapped. The surprise quickly turned to suspicion because there had to be a reason that Alastor was helping him. You didn’t just help people—especially not in Hell. It was only when Alastor went to the trouble of bringing him Vark and guaranteeing him that there really was no ulterior motives that was when Vox finally allowed himself to trust Alastor. Never in a million years would he have expected this level of—well, anything from Alastor. Their relationship before this whole mess was one of violent animosity. They couldn’t be in each other’s presence without barbs being thrown or a fight breaking out.

         Now look at them.

         Vox would have preferred healing in the privacy and familiarity of his tower, but Valentino had fucked that up.

Literally.

The hotel was nice, but its existence just confused the TV Demon.

Rehabilitation for Sinner Demons? With the goal of redeeming them and earning them a place in Heaven?

Yeeeeeaah.

No.

Vox didn’t see any of that happening, but who was he to piss on someone’s dream? Her weird as fuck fucking dream. She was a princess, and everyone knew royalty and rich people were allowed to be weirder than the rest of society. That was just as true among demons as it was among humans.

         Vox checks the time on his dashboard. Alastor’s show would be starting in a few minutes.

         With a wave of his hands, wires snake out from the wall. They carry the Philco Ford radio and place it on a table made from twisted cables. Vox raises his hand, prepared to it on and start listening to the show—

         He gets a ding from a new notification. His eyes shift to it, and he sees the red flag marking it as urgent. Vox’s mouth dips into a frown.

         One more email couldn’t hurt? Alastor’s show was still minutes away.

         The email was from a Sinner demon on the East Side of the Pentagram. He’s complaining about the blackout (for fuck’s sake) and he wanted to Vox to know that the blackout had caused “the ruination of some very expensive products” and the demon wanted to know how the Media Overlord “planned to compensate him for this grievous injustice.”

         Vox rubs the side of his head because he can feel a tension headache coming on which he does not need.

         The TV Demon considers how to go about this. Should he respond courteously, or should he tell this guy to go fucking fuck himself with the nearest sharpest object?

         Vox startles when he sees something out of the corner of his eye. The Overlord shoots up from his seat.

         Did –

         Did his shadow just move?

         Vox stares at it.

It…

…does nothing.

Of course, it does nothing. It’s a fucking shadow.

He sighs and rubs at his face.

         Maybe a break is in order.

         Vox saves his work and closes out of the screens. He switches on the radio and waits. He’s been looking forward to this all day.

         Vox grabs a can of Joltz, punctures it with a claw, and shotguns it. He lets out a satisfied sigh and leans back in his chair to get comfortable.

         Alastor always begins his show with an instrumental cover of Cole Porter’s “Let’s Misbehave.”

         A slow smile creeps over the TV Demon’s face when he hears the Radio Demon’s voice filter through the speakers.

         “Good evening, denizens of Hell! It’s my pleasure to join you once again. I am the one and only Alastor. Dear listeners, it puts joy in my heart to be here with you all. I know you’ve all probably heard about or seen the newsreels about my altercation with a certain owner of establishments of the adult nature, and you must have many questions. I’m here to tell you that your questions will go unanswered and your curiosity unsated. I’m not here to talk about any of that. Don’t worry. If you’re here for some salacious stories, then I’m happy to help!”

         Vox breathes a sigh of relief. He didn’t know why but there was a part of him that was afraid that Alastor would discuss what happened to him.

         “Now, last week I told you a tale of my first kill. I’m afraid I have an amendment to make on that tale. That was my first official serial kill. The kill that set me on my way to serial killerdom. Now, I have a tale to tell about my first unofficial kill. I say, unofficial because technically I wasn’t the one to kill them.” Alastor chuckles. “Officially, their deaths were ruled as ‘death by misadventure.’ The year was 1908. I was a dashing young man just shy of my fifteenth birthday. It was a hot, humid summer and I found myself catching the fancy of one Josiah Broussard. Now Elias Broussard, Josiah’s father, was the pastor of the church attended by the white folks in our neck of the woods. New Orleans is a big place. Don’t forget that. I had heard he was a proper fire and brimstone preacher, able to silence a crowd with one look of disapproval. And he disapproved of many, many things. Pastor Broussard was an awful man, and I don’t envy Josiah for having to live under his roof. However, Pastor Broussard was also a wealthy man. He came from cotton money and though he’d moved from his family’s plantation decades ago, he still enjoyed their financial prosperity. Now, Josiah Broussard often met me in the woods for canoodling. And—oh, my! Dear listeners, we appear to have a guest! Everyone say hello to Vark who has taken it upon himself to wander into my studio. Hello, Vark!”

         Vox covers his face with his hands and groans. He incorrectly assumed that Vark was with Niffty, not roaming around the hotel unsupervised.

         There’s a snuffling noise as Vark sniffs at the microphone and then another noise that Vox doesn’t recognize.

         “Ah-Ah-Ah! No! No! Apologies, dear listeners. Vark attempted to nibble my microphone. That’s not for eating. Yes, you go lie down over there while I continue my story. That’s a good boy!” Alastor clears his throat. “Now, even if I wasn’t a mixed-race Creole, I was still a man and there was no way Josiah would risk his father’s wrath. I don’t fault him for that. We’ve all done what we’ve needed to survive. Now, before we forge too far ahead, I think it’s important to clear something up. This is not the story of forbidden love that ends in tragedy. I didn’t love Josiah no matter his feelings for me. At best he was a distraction from the mundanity. He was a lovely boy. Very handsome. I just didn’t—” Alastor makes a waffling noise. “It all came to a head. Maybe we weren’t careful enough. Maybe Josiah broke under the weight of his guilt and the pressure of his father’s eye, but Pastor Broussard found out about us. He certainly wasn’t going to do anything to his only son and heir, but a colored boy living near the swampy borders? I was fair game. He rounded up a posse and they tried to find me. The key word is tried. You see, I may have been dabbling in the dark arts early on. Not to brag, but I was a prodigy. Pastor Broussard and his companions found themselves getting lost in the swamps, following me-shaped shades and will o’wisps while I watched from a safe distance. The companions found themselves succumbing to water moccasin bites and breaking their legs on twisting vines only to be set upon by gators that mysteriously seemed to appear out of nowhere. Pastor Broussard found himself stuck in a swamp as if something below had grabbed hold of his ankle and was pulling him down into the muck. I remember the look in his eyes as I rounded a tree.” Alastor’s voice lowers to a rumbling growl of pleasure. “He begged me to help him. Can you believe that? The man had come to lynch me, and he still expected me to help him. I just stood there, close enough to grab him. Close enough to reach forward, take his hands, and pull him to freedom. Close enough to see the naked fear in his eyes when he realized I was going to let him go under. Not that there was any proof I was there,” Alastor chuckles. He takes a sip of something and makes an appreciative noise. “At any rate they tried to prove I was there, but Pastor Broussard had gathered his lynch mob in secret, hadn’t even told Josiah where he was going, so that fell through. If his own son didn’t know what he was doing then why would I? The police just figured that the good Pastor found himself a victim of the swamp. Josiah, bless him, went through the motions of mourning but he eventually moved to Paris and spent the rest of his days as a confirmed bachelor enjoying the Parisian art scene and the company of other handsome young libertines. I would find myself courting more young men and women well above my station whose angry parents would try to find and kill me for having the audacity. Those parents would find themselves sharing the swamp with Pastor Broussard.” Alastor laughs. “It was excellent practice, and I got a knack for luring my victims to the places I wanted them to be. Of course, I grew tired of letting the environment have all the fun and as I got older, I desired a more hands-on approach.”  Alastor ends his story with a clip of applause.

         Vox grins and applauds even though he knows Alastor can’t hear.

         “Ah, I love a good trip down memory lane,” Alastor says. “Oh, Vark’s leaving. I guess we enjoyed that story more than him. Oh, I see. Niffty has arrived with the Mail. Hello, Niffty!”

         “Hi, Mr. Alastor!”

         “Niffty has been printing off the questions, comments, and general feedback that you dear listeners send me through the electronic mailing system. Niffty, you are a treasure! And I’m not the only one who thinks so! Look at the way Vark trails behind you!”

         “I still have treats in my pocket,” Niffty explains with a giggle. “Come on, Varky. Let’s let Mr. Alastor work.”

         “Farwell, Niffty! Farewell, Vark! Now let’s get to reading some these letters!”

         Vox opens another Joltz as Alastor puts on the “Shreveport Stomp '' as he begins to read his fanmail.

         “As a reminder, I don’t read out the names of the people who send me letters so I’m afraid that you’ll just have to pay extra close attention to be sure that I’m reading yours.” Alastor clears his throat. “Let’s see: ‘Dear Mr. Alastor, Thank you for the autograph. I got it framed and it sits in my living room.’ Oh, I think I know who this is from, but I’ll adhere to my rules. Let me just say that you are very welcome. Moving on. ‘Alastor, two weeks ago you had a cooking segment where you gave us the recipe for dirty rice. My friend argued that you left out what…kind of dirt to use in the dirty rice…’ Goodness.”

         Vox laughs so hard that his drink dribbles down his chin. He can picture Alastor closing his eyes and rubbing his temples.

         “I’m not sure if you’re serious, but I’ll humor you. There is no dirt in dirty rice. Please make sure that your friend knows that before they attempt to make it. It’s simply called dirty rice because the ingredients give it a brown color. Next letter!” Alastor falls silent.

         Vox’s brow furrows when the silence continues for longer than it should. Something’s not right.

         “To the listener who sent this letter,” Alastor’s voice has gone icy. “I will not read your question aloud. Count yourself lucky that I don’t know who you are or where to find you, but to answer your question: No. Not once. Not even a little. I shall have to have Niffty screen these letters from now on. Well, that’s enough of that.” Alastor’s voice has returned to its previous cheery state. “Shreveport Stomp” ends. “I think to wash away the unpleasantness of that last letter, I’ll grace you with the first song of the evening. Ah, but before I do, let me give a special word to a friend listening. Vox,” The way Alastor says his name sounds so warm coming through the speakers. “I hope you’re enjoying the show thus far. I appreciate you tearing yourself away from your work to listen. I dedicate this song to you.” Alastor begins to croon into the microphone singing Gene Austin’s “Old Pals Are the Best Pals After All.”

         Vox feels a heat spreading in his chest and face. It’s a heat that he isn’t unfamiliar with. In fact, he’d felt this same feeling when he began his courtship with Valentino.

         No.

         No!

         Vox stands up from his chair and begins to pace. This couldn’t happen. He has a good thing going on with Alastor. They were finally friends and he here he is about to fuck everything up after what? Four days?

         His first friendship without any strings attached. Just genuine camaraderie with no expectations.

         Vox stares at the radio. Alastor’s song comes to an end, and he moves on to discussing any news he’s come across. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have any news, so he instead talks about things he did (minus everything that happened with Vox).

         Vox feels jittery and it has nothing to do with the three (four?) energy drinks he had. The idea that he was starting to feel things, frightens him. The last relationship ended with him bleeding to death in an alley. Besides, he likes being friends with Alastor. He likes that they can share meals and talk.

         Vox shakes his head. Media Overlord realizes that this couldn’t be what he thought it was. It just couldn’t.

         I just have my wires crossed, he thinks and smiles. Alastor’s extended hand of friendship with no strings obviously just confused him. After all, this was Hell. No one did anything without expecting something in return. Sinners didn’t normally show kindness to one another, not unless there were special exceptions. Honestly, how fucking pathetic would he be if he just fell in love with Alastor just because he was nice? Just because Alastor showed him kindness and compassion when he needed it most?

         Get a grip!

         Vox leans back into his seat and breathes a sigh of relief. Here he is freaking out about nothing. These so-called “feelings'' were just some kind of confused affection, stemming from their new friendship. And why wouldn’t Vox be confused? They used to be enemies! Now they were buddy-buddy. The TV Demon knows he needs to stop equating Alastor’s kindness to anything other than purely platonic friendship.

“Is he fucking serious?”     

Husk tops off Angel Dust’s glass as they listen to radio. “What’s that now,” the cat demon asks.

Angel Dust points at the radio. “He thinks anyone’s buying that ‘we’re just friends’ bullshit? Come on!”

Husk chuckles drily. “Come Angel, it’s gotta be true. He sang a song and everything.” He snorts. “Besides, it’s a little too early to tell, right?”

“Bullshit! I knew I liked you the second I saw you.”

Husk shrugs. “Well, babe that’s you. Alastor’s a bit more…” he scrounges for a good word. “Dumb about these kinds of things.”

         “He told us a story about how he seduced the local homophobe’s son!”

         “Who he never really liked and treated as a distraction.” Husk points out. “Look—” whatever the winged demon is about to say gets cut off because Vaggie stomps into the room. “Holy fuck! What happened to you?”

         Vaggie’s caked with garbage and unmentionable filth. Her shoes have been reduced to tatters. “Alastor,” she says through clenched teeth, “dropped me in a landfill at the Pentagram City border. I had to walk because I didn’t have my wallet. Not that any taxis would pick me up smelling like hot garbage and diapers. Will you please have Niffty meet me in the backyard so she can hose off the worst of it? I just want a bath.”

         Husk nods even as his eyes start to water. Angel Dust leans away because he can smell Vaggie too despite the distance. “Word of advice, Miss Vaggie? Best to let it go. Just take the loss and move on.”

         Vaggie narrows her eye and growls, “Excuse me?”

         “Look, take it from me. You do not want to enter a Prank War with Alastor. It will not end well because that smiley fuck will escalate. He’ll escalate and still think you’re both having a jolly old time even as he’s feeding your dismembered corpse to gators. His idea of fun time pranks is different from everyone else’s, and you want no part of it. So, leave it alone.”

         Vaggie considers Husk’s words. Her shoulders sag. “Just let Niffty know I’m waiting out back,” she grumbles and turns to leave.

         Husk shoots Niffty a quick text and returns to his conversation with his lover. “Look, I get what you’re saying,” Husk says. “But if Alastor feels anything for Vox in the romantic manner, he’s probably not sure what it means. Vox, on the other hand, well if he has feelings for Alastor’s he’s probably terrified.”

         “Why?”

         “Think about it. Last relationship the poor guy had ended with him getting a smashed face and a gunshot wound. His closest friend went on TV and pretty much downplayed his attack and threw him to the side. Alastor’s all he got, and Vox isn’t going to risk that.”

         Angel huffs and crosses his arms. “So, you’re saying they’re both idiots?” His eyes light up. “What if we help them along? Sorta give ’em a push in the right direction?”

         Husk snorts at that. “Now you’re sounding like Niffty,” he teases.

         “How dare—”

         “In any case, I’m not doing that. These two need to figure out their own shit.” He points a claw at the spider demon. “Even if it means they flounder in the dark for a while.” Husk grins. “Especially, if it means Alastor flounders in the dark for a while. ‘Oooh look at me. I’m an all-powerful Overlord but I can’t figure out how to handle these new feelings. Waaah!’ It’s fucking sweet watching that smiley fuck not know something for once.” He points a claw at Angel again. “Let them do this. No help. No ‘nudging’ or ‘pushing’. They need to do this on their own. Capiche?”

         “Yeah, yeah,” Angel Dust answers with a roll of his eyes.

         “Good boy.”

         Angel grins and reaches across the bar and starts rubbing Husk’s ears. The cat demon’s eyes slide close, and he leans into the spider demon’s touch until he remembers himself and growls. “Stop that! Geez! What’d I say about making me purr in public?” He checks over his shoulder before lowering his voice to a whisper, “Bedroom only. I'd never live it down if Alastor heard me.”

         “Aw, my poor sensitive baby,” Angel Dust coos. “I pwomise not to wet Awastor buwwy you.”

         “Please don’t do that voice.”

         “Aw! Don’t you wike it, Daddy?”

         “You’re turning me off so bad that I think my dick is disintegrating.”

         Angel laughs. He swirls his drink in his glass before sipping it. “How long do you think it’ll take those idiots to realize they actually have feelings for each other?”

         Husk scratches at his ear. “Hard to say,” he admits. “Vox will definitely be faster though seeing as he’s been in a relationship before. Alastor will probably take for-fucking-ever. He can tell you how to debone a body. He can tell you how to best get blood out a three-piece suit. He can tell you the best wine to pair with a meal. But emotional shit? Fuck no. I do suspect that when he realizes, it’s going to be fucking hysterical.” The cat demon grins. “I hope I’m there to see it.”

         Vox knocks on Alastor’s door and waits for it to open. Alastor’s shadow pokes its head through the wood of the door. Vox gives it a little wave. The shadow pulls back inside, and the door opens.

         Vox enters Alastor’s room and looks around. The apartment still smells of the remnants of etouffee. Garlic, onions, and spices linger in the air. The scent makes the TV Demon’s stomach rumble.  He spots Alastor in the corner of his kitchen, ironing his coat. “Hey, Alastor,” Vox greets.

         “Ah! Good evening, Vox!” Alastor grins. “Did you enjoy the show?”

         “Sure did.” Vox plops down on a couch.

         Alastor glances over to the TV Demon. He continues ironing. “What can I help you with, my good friend?”

         “Well, you can start by giving me that letter that upset you.”

         The iron pauses and Alastor’s eyes lift to gaze at Vox. “I beg your pardon?”

         “Don’t play coy, Al.” Vox frowns. “I listened. I heard how you responded to whatever the writer sent you. Let me see it.”

         Alastor opens his mouth, probably to deny the whole thing, but his shadow shoots out of his room and flies over to Vox. The doppelganger drops the letter into Vox’s waiting hand. Alastor narrows his eyes and glares at his shadow who glides back to his side and gives the deer demon an impish grin.

         Vox unfolds the paper:

Dear Radio Demon,

C’mon be honest. Didn’t you consider just killing Vox? Just letting that fucker bleed out in that alley and watching?

         Vox refolds the paper. He sets it down beside him and sits there.

         Alastor finishes ironing and hangs his coat onto a hanger. “Are you alright?”

         Vox doesn’t answer right away. He leans forward and sits with his arms resting on his thighs as he clasps his hands. He stares down at the floor and thinks.

         Alastor rests a hand on his shoulder. “Vox,” he takes a seat next to him. “Is everything –”

         “You want to find this guy?”

         Alastor blinks, taken aback by the question. “What’s that now?”

         Vox’s eyes flash. “Do you,” he points at Alastor, “want to find this guy,” he lifts the letter and gives it a shake, “and break his face and/or kill him?”

         Alastor nods enthusiastically.

         A sadistic smile spreads over Vox’s face. He takes Alastor’s hand and starts pulling him toward the door. “Let’s go back to my room.”

         Alastor and Vox descend the stairs. Vox spots a drenched looking Vaggie heading down the hall toward her and Charlie’s wing. Vox utters a quiet, “The fuck?”

         Alastor just chuckles.

         In the sanctity of his room, Vox takes a seat in his wired throne. He shimmies as he tries to get comfortable. Vox closes his eyes and concentrates. His screen begins to pulse with light, first red, then green, then blue, and finally to bright white.

         Vox can already feel the warm embrace of the unbridled data stream. Lines of code and information call to him, begging him to mine them for all the delicious information that can be used for whatever he wants. The data sings to him. Begs him.

         Let go, the codes of data whisper. Let go and sink into us. Search us. Lose yourself to us.

         Vox’s physical body reacts before he’s too far gone. He holds out a hand. He feels Alastor’s comforting hand in his. Vox can feel the fabric of the Radio Demon’s gloves, the slight pricking of his claws, and he can smell the scent of the starch, garlic, and herbs. Vox uses these to keep him focused.

         Alastor watches as Vox’s eye with the jagged pupil centers on Vox’s screen and on the screens of the surrounding televisions. Alastor gives Vox’s hand an encouraging squeeze.

         Back inside, Vox sees everything.

         He sees everyone.

         No one is hidden.

         Purchase history, preferences, credit, dating profiles, porn searches; it’s all there. All for him to use. All freely given by idiots who only cared about the momentary pleasures instead of how the information was being saved.

         But Vox isn’t here for any of that. He’s on a mission. He wades through the countless rivers of information until he finds what he needs. A tiny pinprick in a sea of data so vast the mere size of it is inconceivable, but Vox finds it. He moves toward it and reaches for it.

         Knives McSlice sinks into his recliner. He has the TV on, but the Sinner demon isn’t really watching it. He puffs on his cigarette as he stares unseeingly at the screen. With a sigh, he opens a can of the shitty beer he favors and takes a deep drink. It takes a special skill to drink and smoke at the same time, but he’s perfected it.

         Knives sighs again when the program he’s not watching cuts to an abrupt commercial.

         Vox stands smiling on the screen.

         “Hey! I’m Vox, Media and Technology Overlord! Of course, everyone knows that unless you’ve just gotten here or been under a fucking rock! In any case, look at this brand new product that you’ll need in your sad life!”

         Knives kind of squints at what Vox holds. They…look like brown slacks.

         “I know what you’re thinking, ‘Vox! Those things look like brown pants!’ Where that’s where you’re wrong! These aren’t just any pants! They’re lightweight! They’ve got deep pockets! And look at this lovely shade of brown! Perfect for hiding the fact you’ve shit yourself in absolute terror!”

         Knives snorts and gets up from his seat. There’s a half-eaten carton of noodles calling his name from the kitchen.

         “Yep! These pants can do it all. They’re especially good for someone who fucked up and decided to piss off the Radio Demon because he thought there was no way that he’d ever be found out. Isn’t that right, Knives? Or should I call you fuck_master_plasma69?”

         The Sinner Demon freezes. He does a slow turn back to television. Vox’s eyes bore into his and the Overlord grins. “Hey, buddy,” Vox says. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to find you? Did you really think I wouldn’t tell Alastor how to find you?” Vox laughs, high and bright. “Oh, man! Look at your fucking face!”

         Knives jumps when there’s a sudden knock on his door. His eyes dart between the door and the television.

         “You should open the door.”

         Knives shakes his head and slowly backs away.

         “You know who’s on the other side of that door,” Vox smirks. He folds the pants and drapes over his arm. “Bet you wish you had these.” He gives the pants a shake. “Don’t keep him waiting. It’s rude. He hates when people are rude.”

         The knocking on the door turns to banging. Knives curses and darts toward the direction of his bedroom.

         Knives drags items to the door to create a barricade.

         A light illuminates the room as the television that Knives has in his bedroom cuts on. Vox smirks at him. “Hmm,” he says. “This is a much nicer TV than the one in your living room. Knives. Knives, buddy. Do you really think that’s going to work?”

         “Shut up,” Knives snarls as he pushes more junk in front of the door.

         “Buddy, all you’re doing is caging yourself in.”

         “Fuck you!”

         Vox laughs. “Knives, let me tell you two things. First, your name is stupid. Like, wow! Could you have chosen an edgier name? And second, Alastor is the fucking Radio Demon. He doesn’t need you to fucking open a door for him.”

         Knives stops piling stuff onto the barricade. He looks back at the TV. “What?” he whispers. He’s so busy looking at Vox that he doesn’t see the large shadowy portal opening above him nor does he notice the large, angular form slowly lowering out of the portal coming to rest on top of the pile, crouching in a predatory manner.

         Vox gives the Sinner demon a look that’s half sympathy, half condescension. “My guy, the knocking was just him being cordial. Looks like that’s over though. Sucks to be you.”

         Knives finally notices that the knocking has stopped. He turns back to the door and comes face to face with Alastor’s grinning maw. The sharp yellow smile stretches further as Alastor takes in Knives’ terrified expression. “Hello, Knives,” Alastor hisses. “It’s always nice to meet a fan. It’s even better to eat a fan.”

         “Please,” Knives whimpers. He holds up his hands and tries to back away. “Please, I didn’t mean any harm! It was just a joke!”

         “It was just a joke,” Vox mocks from the TV screen. “Did you think it was funny? Did you think Alastor would find it funny? Alastor, did you find his note funny?”

         Alastor begins crawling down the pile of junk toward Knives. “I did not,” Alastor says, voice reverbing with power. His long, thin limbs move with the double-jointedness of insect legs and creak like an old house on a windy day. Black blood dribbles from his mouth down his chin. Black antlers sprout from the top of Alastor’s head and scrape against the ceiling. He opens his mouth and screams in those thousands of voices before launching himself at Knives.

         Vox walks down the dingy hallway of Knives’ apartment complex. “We’re all alone, no chaperone can get our number,” Vox sings softly to himself. “The world’s in slumber. Let’s misbehave.”

         A door creaks open and a curious demon pokes her head out. Vox settles a baleful eye on her. “Close the door,” he orders in a voice that brooks no conversation.

         The demon takes in the Overlord’s expression and weighs her options.

         She closes the door.

         None of Knives’ other neighbors bother with curiosity, content to just stay inside the safety of their respective apartments.

         Vox tries the doorknob. Locked. The door swings open as Alastor’s shadow chitters at him. Vox gives the shadow an affectionate pat on its cheek. The shadow blinks, taken aback by the Overlord’s action before reaching forward and wrapping its arms around him in a hug, rubbing its cheek against Vox’s and purring.

         Vox laughs and walks on. He steps over the garbage littered floor. “Sheesh, dude,” the TV Demon mutters. The door to Knives’ room is slightly open. Alastor had either knocked the barricade away or Knives had tried to pull the barricade apart in a desperate last ditch attempt to escape. Vox pushes the door open and walks inside.

         Alastor kneels over Knives’ body, his face buried deep in the demon’s abdomen. The Radio Demon tears into the flesh. He rips chunks of flesh out and swallows them. His head turns at the sound of Vox entering the room. Vox knocks a pile of dirty laundry off the bed and sits. Alastor dips his claws into hole he’s working in and pulls. He yanks and tugs until a handful of…something comes loose. Whatever it is covered in blood and gore. Vox is ninety-five percent sure that it’s an organ. It could just as easily be a handful of fat, flesh, and goo.

         Alastor offers it to Vox. Vox shakes his head.

         Alastor shoves the mass into his mouth and chews. Blood pours down the Radio Demon’s chin and soaks into his shirt and coat.

         Vox watches Alastor eat, fascinated. He’s always known the deer demon was a cannibal, but he never seen him eat.

         It’s horrifying…

         …but also kind of hot?

         Vox blinks, unsure of where that stray thought had come from. Best not to think about it.

         When Alastor had had his fill, the two of them exit Knives’ apartment. They find the apartment hallway filled with neighbors staring at the two Overlords. Vox wonders what the demons gathered must think at the sight of them. Alastor, whose front is completely covered in blood and gore. Vox who stands next to him, arm looped with Alastor’s not caring about the blood getting on suit.

         The neighbors stare at them.

         Vox and Alastor stare back.

         Vox hooks a thumb back at Knives’ apartment. “He keeps the better TV in his bedroom,” he says. He and Alastor continue on their way, ignoring the bedlam that starts as the neighbors start shoving their way into the late Knives’ apartment.

         Vox smiles at Alastor. “That was fun,” he tells him.

         Alastor beams at him. “I must say, it was much faster finding him thanks to you.”

         Vox blushes. “I mean, I’m sure you would have found him. You’re pretty crafty.” He grins and looks away. Fuck me, he closes his eyes and flinches. Why am I so bad at small talk?

         Luckily, Alastor doesn’t seem to mind. He laughs and pulls the TV Demon into a side hug. “Vox, your presence never ceases to brighten my day.” His smile softens. “Let’s go home.”

Dearest Uncle Asmodeus,

I hope this missive finds you well.

Sorry. I haven’t written a letter in, like, forever. You’re probably wondering why I’m writing instead of calling. Well, I’m sure you’ve heard all about my great plan with handling Pentagram City’s overpopulation problem. Well, I think it’s great. Dad? Not so much. I don’t know how much you know, but our discussion didn’t go so well. Like, it was super bad. Anyway, I think Dad’s been altering the phone lines because I can’t call any of the other Rings. I didn't know he could do that! Anyway, I’ve got this friend. Well, he’s technically our first candidate for redemption. His name is Angel Dust and he’s making--

remarkable

wonderful

He’s making progress.

Anyway, I’m writing because I need a favor. Yeah, I know. I can already hear you. “No one in this family ever talks unless they need something!” This isn’t a favor for me. It’s a favor Angel. He worked for Valentino. Valentino and my sponsor had an altercation and the result ended with Angel being fired. I thought that you could help. I’ve included a DVD of some of Angel’s previous work as a sample. Maybe you and Uncle Fizz can review it and see if Angel Dust has what it takes to work for you or in the Lust Ring.

Please, Uncle Ozzie. Let me know if you can help. I love you!

With Sincerest Love,

Charlie

Chapter Text

Alastor wakes in a fantastic mood. A night after a good murder and meal usually puts the Radio Demon in an excellent mood, but this time seems different. He’s not sure why. It was like any other hunt with the exception that he had Vox at his side, but why would that make a difference? Perhaps it was because Vox had stayed by his side the entire time even while he consumed the body. Not many non-cannibals would do that. Having the TV Demon remain in his company even as he tore into the corpse’s flesh made Alastor feel…

No matter.

Alastor hums and dances as he dresses. He whistles as he ties his tie and buttons his coat. The deer demon smooths down his hair and checks his teeth in the mirror.

Sharp and deadly. Excellent.

Alastor slides out the door.

He hums a jaunty tune as he makes his way to the dining room. “Morning all,” he sings, and summons his shadow. His doppelganger spins him and gives a quick bow before returning to the ether. Alastor slides into a seat. He unfolds his napkin and puts it in his lap. Alastor glances around. Husk and Angel Dust sit side by side, heads bowed and whispering to one another. “Husker, I’m surprised to see you up so early!”

“Angel woke me. Said I needed to see something.”

Alastor hmm’s and gives the spider demon a considering look. “Getting Husker out of bed before noon is no easy feat. You have my congratulations. But,” he looks Angel up and down. “I must say I’m surprised to see up and about this early as well.”

Angel Dust shrugs. “I ain’t got a job so I can actually get to bed at a decent time,” he says. He does not sound happy about that. “Plus, no money means no clubbing.” He sounds even unhappier about that.

“Well, I’m sure Charlie will rectify your situation,” Alastor tells him. He drums his fingers on the table. Where was Niffty? Usually he could count on her whizzing out of the kitchen with a piping hot cup of coffee prepared.

Alastor’s ear twitches as he catches Angel snickering at something Husk whispers to him. “What’s so funny?” Alastor turns to them.

Husk and Angel Dust exchange a look. “Oh nothing,” Angel Dust says with an innocent smile (or whatever passed for innocent in his case). “It’s just, well, have you seen the latest issue of Pentagram City Weekly ?”

  Alastor’s nose wrinkles. “I’m afraid the only periodicals I peruse are newspapers. I’m not one for reading magazines.”

Angel’s eyes glitter with barely concealed mirth. “Is that so? So, you don’t read Imp Gossip ? Or Hell Facts ? Daily Hell ? Or even Sensational Scintillating Sins ?”

Alastor’s fingers drum harder as his patience grows thinner. Where the fuck was Niffty? “I just said that I don’t read anything but newspapers,” Alastor bites out. He sees both Husk and Angel share a grin. Alastor slams a fist on the table. “What,” he demands with a snarl.

Angel doesn’t seem frightened by his outburst. If anything, the spider demon looks like he’s holding back a giggle. He pulls out a plastic bag that he’s been holding under the table. “Got these on my walk with Nuggs. You might wanna start expandin’ your reading horizons, Smiles.” He slides the bag down the table.

Alastor rolls his eyes and has his shadow bring the bag to him. He pulls one out and flips it over to see the front cover.

The blood drains from his face.

The cover of Sensational Scintillating Sins has both he and Vox emblazoned on the front. These must have been the photos taken by the paparazzi at the Fisherman’s Wife. Alastor remembers the day vividly (not just because of the sushi and fun) but because it was the first time he’d ever let himself be photographed by a modern camera. He knows this because it took considerable concentration and dampening of his powers to keep the instruments from exploding. That’s not to say that there’s no distortion in places. There’s blurring around his eyes and shoulders as if Alastor’s trying to phase away, but the rest of the picture is clear. There’s no doubt it’s him.

Which was entirely the point.

The photographers don’t know it, but they had the clearest pictures of the Radio Demon’s face in all of Hell.

The photo shouldn’t bother him (after all, they were his idea) but looking at them causes his stomach to twist and coil.

Alastor and Vox are too close. Their heads are pressed together in shared laughter. The photographer seems to have focused the most on their hands. Their hands are on the tables, fingers so close that they practically touch.

The headline above the picture reads: “Love in the Air? Old Rivalry Turns into New Flame?”

Alastor begins to hyperventilate. He pours the other magazines out of the bag. The other covers show more of the same thing, just from different angles. They all look damning. With shaking hands, Alastor starts to flip through the pages. They didn’t even use the photos of Vox posing and glamming for them. No, the magazines only seemed interested in the photos taken after Alastor had put the TV Demon in a better mood.

Except…

Daily Hell has a photo of Alastor and Vox blown up so that it fills a two-page spread.

The photo of them dancing. The photographer caught the moment just as the two of them are staring into the other’s eyes. Alastor’s smile looks soft as he gazes at Vox. Vox looks back at him with an expression full of warmth and contentment.

By now, both Angel Dust and Husk have come to realize that Alastor isn’t taking this well. The Radio Demon’s breathing has increased to a worrying rate and Angel wonders if he should go get someone.

“Where did you get these?” Alastor asks. He looks around the empty dining room. “Where’s Vox?”

“He left.”

“What?!” A million thoughts begin screaming in the deer demon’s head. He’s gone because of you. He left. You ruined everything. The pictures were your idea. You embarrassed him. He hates you. He hates you. He hates—

“Not because of the magazines,” Husk says quickly. “He left because he got a text from the repair guys saying they’d fixed Vark’s tank. He wanted to do a walkthrough and let Vark take a dip because the poor guy was looking a little dry.” He takes in Alastor’s expression and adds softly, “He’ll be back.”

Alastor nods. “Yes, right. Of course.” He looks down at the magazines. “Where did you get these?” He asks Angel Dust again.

“I, um, from the convenience store.” Angel Dust looks at his boyfriend. Husk is too busy staring at Alastor.

Alastor nods again because he doesn’t know what else to do. Something occurs to him. “Where is Niffty?”

Angel Dust winces and Husk pulls the brim of his hat down over his face. Alastor sighs aloud. “Did she see these,” he asks though he already expects he knows the answer.

Both Angel and Husk nod.

“And let me guess. She’s out buying more?”

Angel and Husk exchange a look. They turn back to Alastor and nod again.

Alastor’s head falls back against his chair, and he groans loudly.

“Sorry,” Angel says. He rubs the back of his neck. “I only set them down for a second to get Husk and she’s so freaking quiet!”

Alastor just wants to crawl back into bed. “Right,” he says and gets out of his chair. “I’m going back to my room. Don’t disturb me.” He starts to trudge away. He stops, turns around, and opens his mouth—

Husk holds up a hand. “We’ll let you know when Vox gets back,” he promises.

Alastor spends the rest of the morning lying facedown on his bed. His shadow chitters in his ear and pokes at his back. Alastor weakly swipes at it before returning to his original position.

The doppelganger pulls on his ear.

“Ow!” Alastor turns his head and glares at the shadow. “Go away,” he snaps. “I’m in no mood for your shenanigans.”

The shadow doesn’t move. It just keeps staring down at him. Alastor sighs and turns his head away. Maybe if he ignores it, the damned thing will get bored and go bother someone else.

His plan goes awry when his doppelganger grabs him by the ankles and drags him from the bed.

Alastor hits the floor. “Enough!” In one motion he rolls over and casts a dispelling wave at the shadow. His doppelganger lets out a high-pitched screech as its forced back into the ether.

Alastor harrumphs and doesn’t even bother getting up off the floor. He’ll stay here forever.

His sensitive deer ears can pick up the faint sound of knocking. Alastor growls but doesn’t move.

“Alastor?”

Alastor sits up. “Vox?” he whispers. He scrambles to his feet. He takes a second to check his appearance in the mirror. Alastor quickly smooths down his hair, shirt, and coat. He walks briskly to the door and throws it open.

Vox stands on the other side with Vark. The demon shark’s skin glistens with renewed moisture and his tail thumps happily at the sight of Alastor. “Vox,” Alastor grins. “What are you doing here? I was told you had gone back to your tower!”

Vox tilts his head and frowns at the Radio Demon. “I did,” he says slowly. “Four hours ago?”

Four hours? Fuck. Was he really in bed for that long? “I see,” Alastor laughs awkwardly. “Time flies!”

Vox pulls a magazine from behind his back. Alastor’s eyes widened at the sight of it. The TV Demon laughs. “Mind if we come inside?”

“Um, sure.” Alastor steps aside and allows them both to enter.

Vark sniffs around, realizes there’s nothing for him to eat and moves to sit wherever Vox sits. When the TV headed demon sits on Alastor’s couch, Vark attempts to climb on his lap much to the Media Demon’s horror. “Vark, no! Down! We’ve talked about this! No!”

Alastor attempts to smother his laughter as he summons a pair of shadowy tendrils. The tentacles wrap around Vark’s middle and lifts him into the air.

Vox breathes with relief. “Thanks,” Vox wheezes. “He saw Fat Nuggets sit on my lap once and now he thinks he needs to do it too.”

“I see,” Alastor gently puts Vark down. With a circular motion of his hand, he makes a fence of shadows to corral Vark to one side of the room. The demon shark sniffs at the bars made of shadows and attempts to chew at them. He plops down on his bottom and stares at the deer demon with sad, wet eyes. “Oh, none of that,” Alastor tsks. “You can’t just sit on people. You’re heavy.”

Vox relaxes in his seat. He opens the magazine and gives the cushion next to him a pat.

With much trepidation, Alastor sits.

“So, Angel Dust told me you got freaked out by this.” Vox says not looking up from the magazine.

Alastor utters a brittle laugh. “I’m sure Angel Dust exaggerated. I was merely surprised.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why you’ve been holed up in your room for four hours?”

Alastor stays silent, feeling he’ll incriminate himself less by saying nothing.

Vox leans closer to him, practically resting the corner of his head on Alastor’s shoulder as he reads. Usually, such a blatant breach of his personal space would have the Radio Demon frothing, but he finds with Vox he doesn’t mind.

Vox points at the picture and asks, “Wanna hear a fun fact?”

“Sure.”

The TV Demon taps the magazine and grins. “Valentino loves the Daily Hell . It’s his go-to gossip rag.”

Oh.

Oh!

“Well,” Alastor’s grin stretches. “Isn’t that just delicious,” he says with a purr. “I’m sure Valentino will certainly find his current issue most informative.”

Vox chuckles. Alastor’s eyes are drawn to the antennae the Media Overlord has confined to his hat. Without thinking, he raises a finger and gently runs it along the straighter of the two.

Vox bolts upright and moves away.

Alastor jerks his hand back. “Apologies,” he sputters. “I mean no offense. I was simply curious.”

“No! No! It’s fine.” Vox keeps his back to Alastor. “It’s just those are…sensitive.”

Color rushes to Alastor’s face. “I am so sorry,” he says, mortified. “I wouldn’t have – if I had known—”

“Alastor, it’s fine. Not many people realize. It’s okay.” Vox seems to take a minute to calm himself before turning back to Alastor. The deer demon can see the last remnants of snow disappearing as the TV gives him a smile. “So, I guess since you touched mine. I should touch yours?”

Alastor blinks at him, confused.

“Your ears,” Vox explains. His eyes gleam playfully. “I’ve always wanted to touch them.”

Alastor sighs and rolls his eyes because people always want to touch his ears. “Very well,” he says. He stands up and moves to take a seat on the floor in front of Vox. Alastor feels Vox’s clawed fingers tentatively touch the tip of his right ear.

“Let me know if I hurt you,” Vox says in a whisper. He rubs from the ear’s tip to its base. “Holy fuck! They’re so soft!” He sounds absolutely delighted by this fact. He starts to rub the second ear, gently massaging them between his fingers.

“Yes, well, my ears are sensitive too,” Alastor murmurs. All at once the fingers stop. “Not like that,” he amends. “I just meant hearing.”

“Ah,” Vox says before continuing.

They sit there and the conversation lulls to a stop. Alastor can feel his eyelids droop, a comforting combination of being near Vox, having his ears rubbed, and just general contentment.

“Oh, hey. It’s your shadow.”

Alastor’s eyes shoot open. His shadow stands before him, leering down at him with its caricature of a smile. Alastor stares up at it, his smiling mouth slightly agape in horror.

Vox sees none of this. He simply gives the shadow a little wave. “Hey, Buddy. How’ve ya been?”

The shadow chitters at Vox and moves to sit next to Alastor on the floor.

It waits.

Alastor sits there frozen, unable to look at his doppelganger. Above him, Vox chuckles. “Okay, I see how it is.” The Radio Demon feels the TV Demon’s hand lift away from his ear. “Oh wow! It’s like velvet! Alastor, your shadow’s ear feels velvet.”

Alastor gives the shadow a sour side glare. His shadow smirks at him.

“Go away,” Alastor mouths.

The shadow laughs silently before dissolving into an inky pool. It slithers away, but not before Alastor sees take hold of Vox’s shadow before sliding under the couch. Vox, thank Satan, does not.

“Oh, okay,” Vox says. “Bye I guess.”

Alastor climbs to his feet. He takes a seat back on the couch. Vox notices his change of mood. “Alastor? Is something wrong?”

Yes. Yes, something is very wrong. His shadow reappeared after being banished without Alastor needing to summon it. Something is clearly and terribly wrong.

“Everything’s fine,” Alastor says, lying through his teeth.

Vox nods. “Look, we need to talk. I –” he stops. Tries again. “I’ve been giving it some thought. I’m thinking I need to go back to my tower.”

Alastor’s stomach drops. “But why?”

Vox looks at his hands folded in his lap. “I’ve just got so much that needs to be done. I really appreciate you guys letting me stay here, but I can’t do this forever. I mean, I got work to do. And how’s it look if I let Valentino chase me out of my own home? I did a walkthrough this morning. Bapper and Co. are a lot further along than they told me. My penthouse is finished at least. I should really be staying there. Besides,” he adds almost sadly. “You can’t babysit me forever.”

Alastor places a hand on the side of Vox’s face. He forces the TV Demon to look at him. “You are not a burden to me. I enjoy your company. I look forward to it.”

Vox closes his eyes and seems to press into Alastor’s touch. “You’re making this so fucking hard,” he murmurs.

Alastor’s head tilts. “Pardon?”

“Nothing,” Vox says, snapping out of it. He pulls away. “Look, I can still come to visit. I don’t really understand this—” he makes gestures to everything. “The hotel, I mean. I don’t understand it, but I like being here. I like—” He seems to stumble over what he wants to say. “I just think I should go before I ruin things. Things are so good,” he says.

“What do you think you’re going to ruining?”

Vox gives him another sad smile. “Nothing if I play my cards right.” He gets up. “I think we should go tomorrow. Gives us one last night together.”

Alastor feels…strange. He’s not quite sure what this is, but he does know he hates it.

“One last night,” he agrees. He claps his hands and stands. “And it’s not like you’re dying! I can always come visit you!”

“That’s right,” Vox agrees with equal enthusiasm. “And I can visit you. This—” he gestures between them. “—doesn’t have to end.”

“Yes,” Alastor says with a nod.

“Right.” Vox smiles.

Alastor smiles back even though what he really wants to do is punch the nearest object and rend something to pieces with his teeth. “Well, I guess you should go let the others know. They’ll be heartbroken.”

“Yeah,” Vox winces. “Especially Niffty. She was making a collage from all the magazines she bought.”

“Of course, she is,” Alastor says. He’s not looking forward to seeing the finished product.

“I guess, I should be going. Vark!”

Vark hops over the shadow fence that Alastor made for him and trots to Vox’s side. The TV Demon squints at him. “You could have just jumped over that the entire time and you were just—” he sighs and rubs Vark’s cheeks. “You’re so fucking cute.”

Alastor opens the door for Vox and Vark and promises to see him later. “I just need a moment to think to myself,” he tells him. Vox nods in understanding and together he and Vark go to tell the others.

Alastor closes the door, locks, and latches it. He walks over to his couch and sinks down onto the cushion and buries his face in his hands.

There are terrible, new emotions roiling inside him.

 He doesn’t understand them, and he doesn’t want them.

The Radio Demon gets up without a word and goes into his room. He glances toward his bed and for a moment he considers falling back into it, but at the last second he turns toward his desk.

A distraction. That’s what he needs. A distraction to keep his mind from thinking about the fact that Vox is leaving.

Alastor opens drawers and cabinets removing fabric, threads, and stuffing. He sets about making shells for his moppets and dolls.

He cuts and stitches.

He sews and sews and sews.

He never lifts his eyes unless it’s to reach for a new piece of fabric or to put the finished product aside.

Alastor works until his fingers ache.

He feels a hand on his shoulder.

He doesn’t look up.

There’s a soft chitter in his ear.

“Go away,” Alastor bites out. The hand stays in place and the deer demon whirls around in a rage. “Why can’t you just do what I tell you?! Why do you insist on disobeying me?” He bolts upright and roars in the doppelganger’s face.

His shadow does nothing as he rages. When his roar peters out, Alastor falls silent.

His shadow moves forward and puts its arms around Alastor. Alastor’s arms fall to his side. He closes his eyes and just surrenders to the shadow’s embrace.

As Vox predicted, Niffty takes the news of his departure the hardest. She clutches at the TV Demon’s legs and sobs openly as the collage of cutout photos of Vox and Alastor’s lunch pasted to poster board lies on the floor. Niffty decorated her project with artfully drawn hearts with lace trim and cutouts of wedding bells. “Why do you have to go,” Niffy wails. She hugs his legs tighter.

Vox looks uncomfortable. He gives the top of Niffty’s head a pat. “I, um, just have to,” he tells her. “I can’t stay here forever.”

Charlie blows her nose. Her eyes water with fresh tears. “We’re going to miss you so much!” She and Niffty both begin to cry anew.

Vox looks at them helplessly. “I’m not—Guys! I can come visit! Geez!”

“What about your love story?” Niffty rolls on her back and flails her arms and legs.

“My what ?”

Niffty sits up and pulls a roll of paper out of her shirt. She unfurls it. “I made a timeline! See? You and Alastor have to fall in love. You get married. I’m a bridesmaid!”

“Niffty, what the fuck are you talking about? Does that say ‘adoption’?”

“Yeah! I originally had it as ‘adopting kids’, but then I remembered that Mr. Alastor doesn’t like kids so I scratched it out. I was thinking pets? Maybe an animal sanctuary?”

“Oh my gosh,” Charlie bounces on her toes. “Are we showing our timelines?” she reaches into her coat and pulls out a folded square of paper. She unfolds it and proudly shows off her own hand drawn timeline. It’s decorated with cartoonish drawings of Alastor and Vox standing beneath a rainbow

Vox looks between Charlie and Niffty. “Yeah, I’m not sure how to process any of… that ,” he says.

“Don’t bother,” Husk says, shaking his head. “Look Niffty, why don’t you go prepare an extra special send off meal for Vox and Vark? Charlie, you can go help.”

The two women head toward the kitchen, weeping and mourning the sinking of their ship.

Vox watches them go. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters.

Husk walks over and hands a drink to the Overlord. “You know they’re going to hold you to that visiting thing.”

“I know,” Vox says before he downs the drink. He makes a face. “Ugh! That barely tasted like anything.”

Husk shrugs. “I work with what I’m given,” he says sadly and gestures back at the bar. “Which, unfortunately, is weak ass booze. The real stuff was here when Al teleported me here, but either the princess or Vaggie switched them out.” Husk frowns. “My money’s on Vaggie.”

“Don’t talk shit about me when I’m not here,” Vaggie tells him as she walks into the room.

Husk smirks. “Fine,” he replies. “I’ll always be sure to talk shit to your face.”

Vaggie rolls her eye. She looks at Vox and her expression softens. “I heard from Charlie that you’re leaving tomorrow. It was…surprisingly nice to have you here. I honestly expected more chaos, but other than you and Alastor fistfighting another Overlord on the evening news, it was pretty tame.” She hugs him. “We’ll keep your room for you.”

“Thanks, Vaggie.” Vox hugs her back.

      Dinner is a grand affair. Niffty and Charlie really went all out with the spread. Alastor comes downstairs and joins the rest of the group. The Radio Demon wears his trademark grin, but he can tell from the worried looks exchanged between Husk and Niffty that they can tell that his boisterous laughter and good cheer are forced. Still, Alastor’s a showman and what sort of showman would he be if he couldn’t fake happiness for Vox’s final night among them.

      “Again,” Vox says. “I’m not going away forever. I can come visit.”

      Alastor nods in agreement but there’s poisonous thoughts echoing in his mind.

Everyone always says that they’ll keep in touch.

That they’ll visit.

No one ever means it.

No one ever follows through. He’ll come around at first, but his visits will grow fewer and fewer as life gets in the way, and then?

They’ll stop all together.

Alastor takes off his monocle and rubs his eyes. “Pardon,” he murmurs. “Just a bit of dust.” He ignores Niffty’s offended gasp.

After dinner, Angel Dust pulls Vox aside. The two of them go outside and smoke. “Look, I just wanted to talk to you before you left,” the spider demon says. “I know it’s weird to say, but I always felt safer around you. I mean, you’re an Overlord and you got the means and power to kill me, but you weren’t…”

Vox blows out a ring of smoke. “Like Valentino?” he finishes.

Angel Dust nods. “You weren’t like the other guys either. You videotaped me, but you weren’t a creep about it. You were just enjoying the show. And you never seemed interested in doing more than looking; even when Val offered.” Angel Dust gives him a dry look. “And I know he offered.”

Vox winces. “Yeah, he did.” The Media Overlord fidgets. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that I never did more to help you.”

“You kidding me? What would you have even done?”

“I could have done something . I dunno.”

“You would have gotten your ass kicked or killed,” Angel snorts. “And then I would be stuck with that pissed off asshole. I appreciate the thought, but Val had my contract. Even if you wanted to help or managed to get me away, I would have still been his property.” He smiles at Vox. “At least we’re free now. Well, freer in my case.”

Vox smiles and turns to look at the setting sun. “Well,” he says, “Here’s to freedom.”

         After dinner, Alastor returns to working on his mountain of doll skins. Once he’s satisfied with the amount, he’ll stuff them properly. His shadow stands in the corner watching him but thankfully not disturbing him.

         The Radio Demon huffs with impatience when he hears the sound of knocking at his door. He glances at the clock and marvels at the lateness of the hour. Time really got away from him. He stands up, shakes the jelly out his legs, and walks to the door so he can give an earful to whoever is bothering him.

         Vox stands on the other side of the door, holding a pillow. There’s an almost bashful smile on the Overlord’s square face as he looks at Alastor. “I was having trouble sleeping,” he says. “How about one more campout before I go?”

         Alastor lets him in. Vox gives him a curious look. “I was about to apologize for waking you but,” he frowns. “Alastor, have you not been to bed?”

         The deer demon laughs. “I was just working on something. You know how it is, better than anyone.”

         Vox laughs and rubs his neck. “Yeah, I guess I would,” he nods. “What were you working on?”

         “Oh, just making some skins for my shadow dolls and moppets. All they need now are the three S’s!”

         “Three what?”

         “Three S’s! Shadows, Souls, and Symbols! Shadows and souls to act as filling. Vodoun symbols to animate them to do my bidding.” Alastor smiles.

         “Ah,” Vox says. When he sees the pile of Alastor’s finished work, he comes a stop. “You did all of those?”

         Alastor suddenly realizes how this must look. He’s been holed up in his room for most of the day since Vox announcement. “Yes, I…well, I’ve been meaning to do it, but I never had the time…” Alastor inwardly cringes at the lie. “Anyway,” he claps his hand. “How about a drink? A final one to see you on your way.”

         “Stop it.”

         Alastor comes to a stop. “What’s that?”

         Vox stares at his feet. “You’re all acting like I’m going away forever. I just – I just need a little room. Space. A lot has happened recently, and I need to figure it out,” he trails off. He raises his eyes to meet Alastor’s. “But I’m not going away forever. I like being your friend, you fucking idiot. I’m not going to just throw that away. So, you,” he jabs a finger in Alastor’s chest. “And everybody else in this weird fucking hotel need to stop acting like I’m going off to war or some shit and you’ll never see me again!” the Overlord lets out an exasperated puff of air. “For fuck’s sake, you know where I live. You can visit me.”

         For the first time in hours, Alastor’s smile feels genuine. He surges forward and wraps Vox in a bonecrushing hug. Vox hugs him back with equal fervor. “You’re not getting rid of me, Radio Demon,” Vox whispers.

         Alastor laughs softly. “Of course not,” he replies. “You’re tenacious.” He clears his throat and pulls away from Vox. He yawns and it’s not for show. “Goodness, I didn’t know how late it was. We should both get some sleep.”

         Vox agrees. He looks over at Alastor’s bed. “I can take the floor. I even brought my pillow.”

         “Nonsense,” Alastor says. He grins. “What’s a little platonic spooning between two friends?” He turns and goes to grab his sleepwear completely missing the look of panic that flies over Vox’s face. He goes to the bathroom to change and when he comes out Vox is already in bed, facing the wall. The sight of him gives the deer demon pause because it looks so eerily similar to his arrival, but then Vox turns his head and smiles at him.

         “Ready for bed,” he asks.

        Alastor nods. He turns off the light and crawls beside Vox. He can see the light from Vox’s screen in the dark and he finds comfort in it. Alastor turns on his side and stares at Vox until the light emitted from the Media Overlord’s face dims signaling that Vox has at last fallen asleep. Alastor sighs and lets himself relax.

He puts an arm around Vox and closes his eyes.

The days after Vox returns to his tower, Hazbin Hotel returns to relative normalcy. At least for the others. Try as he might, Alastor can’t seem to shake the moroseness that hangs over him. The smile’s still present, but the Radio Demon is sullen. He spends most of his time in his room and when he’s around others it usually ends with him picking at them until a heated argument erupts. Alastor’s also started taking his meals in his room since Vox’s departure. The only time he’s not in his room or starting arguments is when he’s in his office.

“We really need to do something with him,” Husk grumbles. He looks over at Alastor who’s getting chewed out by Vaggie. Husk has no idea what the deer demon did to get that red-faced spittle filled scream fest but if recent events were any indicator, he did it on purpose for this reaction. “It’s been a week and I’m afraid he’s going to get tired of antagonizing people and move on to arson.”

“He just misses Vox,” Angel Dust comments.

“I know he misses Vox. It’s obvious he misses Vox. I’m just saying that something needs to be done.”

“Good day, gentlemen,” Alastor greets them. “I apologize for Vagatha’s volume. Some people just can’t handle a sudden manifestation of spiders while they take a bath.”

Husk stares at the deer demon in horror. “You didn’t.”

“I did! She was most displeased! Insinuated all sorts of things about my mother’s fidelity and that I should engage in sexual congress with a horse! Can you believe that?”

Husk sets his mouth in a thin line. It was now or never. “Look, Al,” he sighs. “I know you miss Vox, but can’t you find a more constructive way to act out your sadness?”

Alastor studies him for a moment. He sighs and presses a hand to his forehead. “So, my misery is so obvious that even you noticed!”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m some sort of idiot?”

Alastor ignores him. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve experienced sadness before. Of course, I have. This? This is something entirely different and I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is or why it feels as if my very heart is being torn from my chest and stomped on by a herd of show ponies!”

Angel and Husk look at each other. Was this it? Was this the moment? “You wanna go talk outside,” Angel Dust asks.

Alastor arches a brow. “Fine,” he says in a clipped tone. “But only because I’m pretty sure Vaggie is waiting in my room behind the door with her spear.”

The three demons head outside. They lean on the wall and enjoy a smoke. Husk eyes the crater left behind by the Alastor’s radio station the day Valentino ripped it off the hotel. “Are they going to do anything with that,” he asks as he puffs on a cigar.

         Alastor lights his own cigarette. He rarely partakes in smoking, but the acrid taste of tobacco does help his mood. “Charlie thinks we should line it with concrete and turn it into a pool.”

         “That’s not a bad idea,” Angel Dust says. “You can call it a, um, whatchacallit ‘therapeutic water recreation’ or something. Besides, who doesn’t love a pool?”

         “Hmm,” Alastor takes a long drag. “You two wanted to talk to me?”

         “Yeah,” Husk clears his throat. “Look, Al. I wanted to ease into this. I really did, but you’re kind of forcing my hand.”

         Alastor arches a brow and waits for the cat demon to continue.

         “Al, do you know why you’re having such a hard time with Vox being gone? Ya ever think about the reason?”

         Alastor lets out a sharp bark of laughter. “Of course! It’s all I’ve been thinking about lately! It confounds me! Maybe a part of me is afraid that our budding friendship is still too fragile for us to be apart. It could also be that I’m afraid that because our relationship began while he was injured it will disappear now that I’m not needed.”

         “Ooh!” Angel Dust points. “Let’s talk about that. Relationship! How would you define your relationship with Vox?”

         “Real smooth,” Husk mutters. “Super subtle.”

         “Eat my ass,” Angel retorts.

         Alastor shrugs. “Our relationship? Why, we’re friends! The best of chums! It’s no different than what I share with Mimzy or Rosie.”

         Husk looks around suddenly. “Um, have you contacted Mimzy lately?”

         “No. Not really. I’ve been busy with Vox.”

         “Sonuva—Al, you know how she gets when you don’t talk to her for a while. Please, I don’t want this to be like last time! I woke up with her standing over my bed holding a knife to my throat.”

         Alastor waves away his concern. “Husker, Mimzy is a sweetheart.”

         “To you,” the cat demon counters. “And maybe to Niffty because who could be mean to Niffty. But everybody else? She threatened to carve out my liver and sauté it! I need that!”

         “Do you?” Alastor strokes his chin. “I wonder how vital organs work for us now that we’re dead. I mean, I know we need hearts but other organs? If they’re removed, do they simply regrow?”

         “We’re getting off topic,” Angel Dust says and waves his arms. “We were talking about you and Vox.”

         “What’s there to talk about, Angel?” Alastor demands. “Vox is gone. He’s gone and even though he said he would visit; it’s been a week since we’ve last heard from him. He hasn’t even called! It’s already starting even though he said it wouldn’t!”

         Alastor blinks as the other two demons stare wide-eyed at his sudden outburst. “Apologies,” Alastor clears his throat. “I don’t know what came over me.”

         “Alastor,” Angel says softly. “It’s okay that you miss him. You’re allowed.”

         “But that’s the thing,” Alastor snaps. “Why do I miss him this much? We haven’t even been friends for that long, but I feel so—” he flounders. “I feel so much! I don’t understand!” He suddenly looks terrified. “If all my friends were to suddenly leave me would I feel this again, but multiplied?”

         “I think,” Husk says slowly and tactfully. “That what you’re feeling is different because what you feel for Vox is different.”

         Alastor’s brow creases. “What I feel for Vox?” Alastor strokes his chin and ponders deeply. “What I feel for Vox,” he repeats in a murmur.

        A Sinner Demon dressed in a mail carrier uniform with the Pride Ring logo, walks up, holding a comically large letter in an embossed gold envelope. “Hey, I got this here letter. Needs to be signed for by the recipient. Hey!” he pokes at Alastor. “Hey! Ya hear me?” he continues to poke Alastor. “Don’t friggin’ ignore me. Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!”

        Still stroking his chin and staring at nothing as he considers Husk’s statement, Alastor raises a hand to the Sinner demon’s face. With one smooth motion, he rips off the other demon’s face and shoves him away. “Don’t touch me,” he murmurs, almost as an afterthought. Alastor sighs. “Nope! I’m afraid I don’t have the slightest idea what you mean, Husker. Oh, well!” he looks down at the fallen mail carrier. “Oh, look! This letter’s addressed to Charlie!” He picks it up. “I’ll take it to her.”

         When he’s gone both Husk and Angel Dust sigh. “So close,” Angel Dust snaps his fingers.

         His boyfriend gives him a look. “Were we though,” Husk asks. “Were we really?”

         “I mean, we at least got ’im talking about his feelings! That’s progress!”

         “Not enough,” Husk huffs. He puts out his cigar. “You still got your old place?”

         “No. Why?”

         “Fuck!” The winged cat demon looks nervously over his shoulder. “I don’t wanna be here when Mimzy comes calling.”

         When they go back inside, they find Charlie hopping up and down with a piece of paper the size of her upper body in her hands. “You guys,” she tries to wave. “My uncle Ozzie is coming for a visit! Isn’t that amazing!”

         “Your uncle? The Embodiment of Lust?” Husk asks.

         “Yeah!” Charlie does a little dance. “He’s coming for a visit and to help Angel!”

         “Fuck me,” Angel whispers. The spider demon wants to get excited but knows better. He’s been in Hell long enough to know what happens to demons dumb enough to hope. “That’s…amazing.”

         “Alastor!”

         The gathered demons turn just in time to see a flapper hurl herself through the hotel’s lobby window. Mimzy snarls and scans the room.

         Alastor’s face brightens and he throws his arms open wide in jubilation. “Mimzy!”

         Mimzy runs over to the deer demon and wraps her arms and legs around his thin legs. “Oh, Al,” she sniffles. “I’ve missed you so much! What the heck happened? I haven’t heard from you in so long! And that stuffy broad Rosie was no help! I had to come all the way here! I was so afraid something terrible had happened!”

         “Oh, Mimzy!” Alastor peels her off so he can kneel and hug her. “I’m so inconsiderate! I didn’t mean to worry you. Something just came up. I had no control over it.”

         Mimzy takes him by the hand and leads him over to the bar. She climbs onto a barstool. Mimzy glares back at Husk. “Hey pussycat. Why don’t make yourself fucking useful and fix us a fucking drink? Isn’t that your job?”

         “Kill me,” Husk whispers as he returns to the bar. He takes his post and asks Mimzy with all the enthusiasm of a man about to face down a firing squad, “What’ll it be?”

         “Is that how you talk to customers,” Mimzy asks with a dagger-like glare. “I’ve seen more vim and vigor in a month old corpse! Alastor, how do you put up with that?”

         Alastor lets out an over-dramatic sigh and drapes himself back against the bar like a starlet. “It’s no easy task,” he admits. “Sometimes I’m afraid it will grow to be too much.” He puts a hand on Mimzy’s cheek. “But I remember your smiling face and I pull through.”

         Mimzy giggles, a sound so high and shrill that Husk’s fur spikes and his ears flatten. “Oh, you!” She turns her attention back to Husk. “I want that stuff strong enough to peel paint off a shed.”

         Husk grinds his teeth. He hates when these two get together.

         “Mimzy, I’m so glad you’re here,” Alastor says.

         I’m not, Husk thinks silently to himself because he’s not suicidal.

         “I’ve been in a bit of a malaise, and I have no idea why.” Alastor continues. He offers his hand to the flapper who coos and gives it a sympathetic pat.

         “Oh, Alastor,” the demoness simpers. “You should’ve called me sooner. I’m always happy to give you an ear and a shoulder to cry on!”

         “Can’t be good for his back,” Husk mutters.

         Mimzy’s head whips around. “What did you say, you flea-ridden dust rag?”

         Husk swallows.  “Nothin’.”

         “That’s fucking right,” Mimzy growls. Like a switch being flipped she turns back to Alastor, sweet as spun sugar. “Alastor, you tell Mimzy what’s bothering you.”

         Alastor does just so. He starts at the beginning, telling her about finding Vox and bringing him back to the hotel. As soon as he mentions his former rival/enemy, Mimzy’s eyebrows rise and keep rising the longer he talks.

         “And now I’m in this horrible funk and I can’t shake it,” Alastor concludes with a sigh. “Even my fight with Ser Pentious Thursday did nothing to alleviate my mood. Although that could have easily been because it was so short…”

         Mimzy stares at her friend, wondering how best to word this. “Well, Alastor,” she says slowly. “From what you just told me it really sounds like—”

         “Mimzy,” Husk cuts in. He shoves a glass at her. “Your drink. I gave you an extra napkin. I think you should use it.” He looks down pointedly.

         Mimzy looks down at the folded napkin the cat demon shoves in her hand. She unfolds it to see a hastily written note in what appears to be cherry juice. She glances up and sees that one of Husk’s claws is tipped with red.

Yes, Alastor might be in love with Vox.

No, he doesn’t realize it.

Baby steps.

         Mimzy crumples the note. She sips from her glass. “Ew! What is this! My mama used to give me stronger stuff when I was in the cradle!”

         “Mimzy,” Husk sighs. “As I’ve said for the hundredth time, this is a rehab. We don’t serve anything stronger.”

         “Then give me one of your bottles!”

         “Hell no! This is literally how Alastor pays me! I’m not giving you shit!”

         Mimzy leans over the bar. “I will skin you and turn you into a fucking coat!”

         Husk leans forward, getting right in her face. “Threaten me all ya want. I’m still not giving you my fucking alcohol! There’s a line, Mimzy! There’s a line and you crossed it!”

         “Oh, blow it out your ass, you geezer!”

         Alastor beams as he watches them. “I do so enjoy when we all get together like this,” he chortles. He sips from his glass. Alastor retches. “Ugh! Mimzy, my dear. Why don’t you come up to my room? I have stronger libations stashed away.”

         “You what!” Husk looks absolutely betrayed.

         Alastor takes Mimzy by the hand and helps her off the barstool. Together they walk toward the stairs.

         They see Niffty as the move down the hall. She runs up, waving. “Hi, Mimzy! Hi! How are you?” she grins. “Just wanted to let you know I’ve printed new copies of my latest issues.”

         Mimzy utters an offended gasp. “Niffty!” Mimzy puts a hand to her chest and sniffs. “That’s absolutely disgusting that you’d think that I would dirty myself with that filth. I am hurt! I am hurt and offended. Offended and scandalized! Alastor, my darling? Will you please go to your room and I’ll meet you there? I need to finish dressing down Niffty.” Mimzy watches as Alastor continues on his way. When he’s far enough away, she turns to Niffty who has been waiting patiently. “How many volumes ya got?”

         “Five so far!”

         Mimzy looks over her shoulder before she turns back and says, “One copy of each. Put ’em aside for me and I’ll grab them on my way out.” Mimzy gives Niffty a wink before running to catch up with Alastor. “Sorry about that,” she says to the deer demon. “Some people, right?”

         “Indeed,” Alastor agrees. He spots Charlie walking his way with forms.

         She stops short at the sight of Alastor and Mimzy. “Oh,” Charlie says. Alastor sees her smile waver. “Oh, Mimzy. You’re here. That’s…great.”

         Mimzy flips her hair and grins. “In the flesh, Sticks and Bones.” She smirks.

         Charlie nods. “Well, that’s…great.” She looks down at the papers in her hands. “Um, Alastor I have some papers that I need you to look at when you get a chance. Mimzy, will you be staying the night?”

         “I’d rather shove my naked tit into the mouth of a starving wolverine with rabies.”

         “Hurtful.” Charlie says. The corner of her eye twitches. “And a simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.”

         Mimzy flips her hair. “I was keeping it succint, Princess.”

         “I don’t think you’re using that word right…”

         “You saying I’m dumb?”

         “N-no! I would never!”

         “You sayin’ that I’m illiterate? I ain’t illiterate! I went to school!”

         Charlie stands there, eyes wide as she leans away from Mimzy. She looks over her shoulder, sees her girlfriend, and almost cries in relief. “Look, Vaggie,” she calls, “Mimzy’s here!”

         Vaggie immediately turns back around and returns in the direction she’d just come.

         Charlie screams, “No! Don’t leave me!”

         “As much fun as this is,” Alastor pipes up. “We should be on our way. Mimzy? Let’s go.”

         Charlie breathes a relieved sigh when the two walk past her and up Alastor’s stairs. “Fucking Mimzy,” the princess mutters with a shake of her head.

         Up in Alastor’s room, the Radio Demon pours Mimzy a drink. “For you, my dear,” he says with a wink. “Gin on the rocks.”

         Mimzy lets out a little squeal. “Thanks, Al!” She sips on it and smacks her lips. “Mm! Now, this is alcohol! That furry hack could learn a thing or two.”

         “Now, now! Be fair to Husker. He’s doing his best with what he’s got,” Alastor chuckles. He pours himself a glass of whiskey. “It’s not his fault he’s got subpar supplies. But, enough about Husk. Let’s talk about me.”

         Mimzy gives the Radio Demon a suggestive smile. “My favorite subject,” she purrs.

         Alastor pretends to blush. His mood sobers as his thoughts return to Vox. “I wish I knew how he was doing.”

         Mimzy studies the deer demon over the rim of her glass. She’s never seen him like this. “Alastor, I’m sure that if he was in trouble he’d let you know.” She tells him. “Right?”

         Alastor nods. “I suppose so,” he says softly. He looks as if he’s having a bit of difficulty keeping the smile on his face, so he hides the effort by taking a drink.

         Mimzy feels conflicted. One part of her wanted this relationship (if you could even call it that) to fail because it would mean Alastor would be all hers.

         But…

         Mimzy cares for Alastor.

         “Alastor, I think…” Mimzy sighs. “I think I’m not the best to offer advice. I don’t know what’s in your heart or in your head. I do think that Vox is trying to get space. Why he wants space is anybody’s guess, but he’s back at his tower so he must want it. Don’t,” she looks down at her glass. “Don’t force an interaction. Give him time. When he’s ready to talk to ya, he will.”

         Alastor nods. He drinks more and refills his glass. “I just wish I knew what these feelings were. I wish I knew what they were so I could better fight them.” His eyes flash with unholy light. “I would banish these hateful feelings and be done with them!”

         Mimzy stands up. She sets her glass down and makes her way to Alastor’s side. “I’m afraid this is something you can’t fight, sweetie. You’re just going to have to deal with them.”

         Alastor makes a noise in the back of his throat. “I think I’d much prefer fighting them.”

         “I know, sweetie. Most people would.” She takes his hand in hers and gives it a sympathetic pat. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way.”

         Mimzy and Alastor finish their drinks. Alastor tells his friend that he’s tired and wants to turn in. Mimzy offers him a soft goodbye and heads downstairs.

         Husk and Angel Dust are standing in the lobby when Mimzy makes her way toward them. “I’m leaving,” Mimzy announces on approach.

         Husk snorts. “Aw! Well, shoot! I was so lookin’ forward to basking in your presence for just a little longer.”

         Mimzy doesn’t reply. As she nears him, Mimzy makes a fist and nails Husk in his junk. The cat demon cries out and crumples. “Jesus tapdancing Christ,” Husk weeps. “Whhhhyyyy?”

         “Bask in that, you feline fuck,” Mimzy snarls. She feels a little better, but knows she’ll feel a lot better once she gets back to her club and drowns her sorrow.

         A few more days passed and still no word from Vox. The only thing that keeps Alastor from teleporting down to the TV Demon’s tower is remembering Mimzy’s words about Vox needing space. The Radio Demon understands the need for space (how many times has he smacked Angel in the face for ignoring the five foot rule) but he also desperately wants some word from Vox.

         Alastor trudges to his office. He’d rather be in bed, but his damnable shadow refuses to let him wallow. It screeches in his ear whenever the deer demon attempts to crawl in it, only relenting when it’s the proper time for sleep.

         Angel Dust runs up to him. “Smiles!”

         Alastor walks faster. He’s in no mood for the spider demon’s foolishness. “Leave me alone, Angel.”

         “Smiles! Al! Alastor! For fuck’s sake! You need to follow me.”

         “I don’t need to do anything but go to my office and review this paperwork.”

         Angel Dust snarls and takes hold of Alastor’s arm. Alastor’s eyes fall to the offending appendage. He slowly raises his eyes to Angel’s and says in a voice as cold as the grave, “You would be wise to remove that from my person.”

         “No! Not until you fucking listen to me!” Angel Dust snaps. He starts to tug at Alastor. “You need to follow me. Now.”

         Alastor relents, allowing Angel to pull him along. The spider demon pulls the deer demon toward the TV room. Alastor immediately digs his heels into the floor. He hasn’t been in that room since the night of the blackout. The Radio Demon has made a point to avoid even walking near it. Being in its proximity tended to remind Alastor of Vox which put him in a bad mood which ended with things on fire…

         “Angel, what are you doing?” Charlie asks. She and Vaggie have been overseeing some sprucing up since she got word that her uncle was coming, despite Asmodeus not giving her a time of arrival.

         Husk snaps awake at the bar, looks bleary-eyed at the others. “Can you keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep off hangovers.”

         “Husk, you’re always sleeping off a hangover,” Angel tells him.

         “Yeah? What’s your point?”

         Angel Dust hisses. “All of you shut up! There’s something you need to see!”

         “What is it,” Vaggie asks.

         Angel takes a deep breath. “The television is on.”

         The others stare at him.

         “Fascinating,” Alastor says drily. He begins to forcefully pry off Angel’s fingers. “I have things to do, Angel Dust. I don’t have time for whatever attention-seeking cry for help you’re currently—”

         “The TV cut on by itself!”

         Alastor stops. He pushes away from Angel and walks toward the TV room. The others follow and crowd around the television. On the screen, in the grainiest footage they’ve ever seen is…

         “Vox,” Alastor whispers. He stares down at the screen.

         The footage doesn’t seem to come from Vox. In fact, Alastor wonders who is doing the filming because it shows Vox walking down a street from behind. The Overlord doesn’t seem aware or troubled that he’s being followed.

         Vox walks along, staring at his phone. Something he reads makes him laugh and Alastor’s heart tightens at the sound.

         “This is so weird,” Vaggie whispers. “Somebody’s just following him and taping him?”

         “No,” Alastor whispers. “Somehow I don’t think that’s what we’re seeing.”

         Vox continues walking, seemingly going about his business when he stops. He turns his head. The camera pans to follow his line of sight and Angel Dust sucks in a breath as a familiar sight comes into frame.

         Valentino’s limo sits parked a few feet from where Vox stands.

         Vox scowls and turns around. He puts on a relaxed face and starts walking. His shoulders go tight when he hears a car engine starting. Vox walks and walks, stopping in a store to buy a Joltz and chatting with the cashier for a second. When he turns around, Valentino’s limo sits in front of the store. A look of fear flits over the TV Demon’s face before he replaces it with a neutral expression. He exits the store. He walks past the car without looking at it.

         The car starts up and the camera shows the limo making a slow U-turn.

         Vox speeds up. He doesn’t stop until he gets back into the safety of his tower. Once inside, he slaps a hand on a wall panel. Guns and laser-sighted turrets pop out, metal shutters slam down over the front doors, and the building goes into lockdown.

         The footage shows Vox running to the windows in his penthouse. He peers down to the street. Valentino’s car drives by in a slow crawl. He curses and falls back from the window.

         “What the fuck,” Husk says.

         The footage keeps going. It becomes abundantly clear what they’re watching is time progressing.

         Vox spends hours each night going through each of his floors, methodically checking each of the many windows and doors twice to make sure they’re properly locked and sealed. He checks on Vark constantly. He refuses to let the demon shark anywhere near the windows.

He moves a chair near the window and stares down toward the street. Every two hours, like clockwork Valentino makes an appearance, driving by the tower in a purposely lazy pace. Slow and deliberate so Vox knows it’s intentional.

Some nights, Valentino parks in front of the tower and the car sits there for hours. The nights are random, and it forces the Media Overlord to stay awake.

         Vox doesn’t sleep. He tries to have food delivered, but the first time he ordered food, he saw the delivery person called over to the limo. Minutes pass before the delivery person arrives at the door of Vox’s tower. Vox grabs the delivery man by throat, yelling and screaming into his face, demanding to know what they did to his food.

         “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man!” The delivery man looks confused and frightened. “Look, here! Just take the food! Just don’t hurt me!” He flings the containers at Vox and runs for dear life.

         Vox gathers up the boxes of food and hurries inside. He relocks the doors and goes back upstairs. He opens his food and pours it onto a plate.

         He stares at the food. He uses his fork and knife to slice into it. Vox gets up and scrapes the plate into the trash. He grabs the containers of food and throws them out too. He ties the bag and takes it out to be sure that Vark didn’t accidentally eat anything.

         The footage shows days going by. Vox attempts to order more food, but each time he does, the same thing happens. They’re called over to Valentino’s car and Vox throws out what he orders. The only thing the TV Demon feels safe consuming are the cases of Joltz that he has delivered because he can easily tell if those have been tampered with.

         Vox spends the bulk of his time by the window. What little time he spends doing work, he also has a security feed open.

         He barely sleeps.

         When he does get sleep, it’s by the window when his head falls back against the chair. That lasts for mere seconds when imagined sounds or whatever Vox thinks he hears, forces him awake.

         Vox looks at his phone constantly. He dials something a few times only to change his mind at the last second.

         The footage stops and the television cuts off.

         Alastor stands there looking at the now darkened screen.

         “Alastor,” Vaggie says carefully.

         The Radio Demon turns on his heel and stalks toward the door. Already his antlers are growing.

         Husk, Angel Dust, and Vaggie move to block his path. “Stop this,” Vaggie orders.

         “Move the fuck out of my way,” Alastor orders. “He needs me!”

         “I know he needs you, but you just can’t—”

         Alastor roars in her face. “Don’t presume to think you can tell me what I do or do not need, Vagatha,” he snarls.

         “And what are you going to do?” Vaggie demands. “What’s your big plan?”

         “My plan is to find Valentino and rip out his throat!”

         “You can’t just attack him!”

         Alastor points a finger back at the TV. “He has been torturing Vox for over a week and we had no idea! He has been keeping him trapped in his home! Vox can’t eat! He can’t sleep! He can barely work!”

         “I know all that,” Vaggie says and raises her hands. “But you need to be smart about this. You can’t just go down there guns a-blazing! Vox is an Overlord! How would it look if everyone saw you riding to his rescue?”

         “I don’t care how it looks!”

         “You should,” Husk argues. “You two made Valentino look weak. He’s looking to do the same with Vox. An Overlord who has to rely on a rescue every time there’s trouble, puts a target on their back.”

         Alastor gnashes his teeth. Everything Husk says is true. Being an Overlord comes with a ridiculous amount of power and privilege. It also comes with a risk and one of those risks is that any perceived weakness would result in your enemies flocking to your doorstep. Alastor knows all of this. Knows that’s why Vox didn’t reach out to them. He can’t call for help. Can’t have Alastor fight his battles.

         Alastor knows this. He knows it all.

         He still doesn’t fucking care.

         “Move aside,” he says again. “Vox needs—”

         “A slumber party!”

         Alastor, Angel Dust, Vaggie, and Husk turn as one to look back at Charlie.

         Oh lord, Alastor thinks. It’s finally happened. She’s lost her mind.

         Charlie beams at them, hands on her hips as she says, “This calls for a good old-fashioned slumber party!”

         “Uh. Charlie,” Vaggie frowns. “What are you talking about?”

         Charlie giggles. “Guys! Look, Vox is fine.”

         Alastor’s blood boils. “Vox is not fine. We all just saw how ‘not fine’ he is!”

         Charlie shushes him, an action that causes Alastor to make a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Nope,” she insists, “Vox is fine. He’s an Overlord. And he definitely, definitely didn’t send this as a call for help. He’s powerful and strong and doesn’t need us to do any rescuing or guard duty.  That’s why we’re not.” She walks over to Alastor and boops his nose. “We’re just some friends who are going to surprise him with a visit. After all, we haven’t seen Vox in forever and we all miss him so much! We’ll talk, order some lunch, hangout, and if we just happen to stay too late, we’ll…”

         “Have a sleepover,” Alastor finishes as it finally dawns on him what Charlie’s suggesting. “No one can say Vox called for help if we just show up unannounced.”

         Charlie nods. She gives Alastor a 1000-watt smile. “Exactly,” she says. “So, everyone go grab some jam-jams and sleeping bag and meet me in the car. Niffty!”

         “Yeah?” the maid pops up from a floor vent.

         Charlie grins. “We’re having a sleepover at Vox’s! Go get your stuff ready!”

         Niffty shakes with excitement, climbs out of the vent, and speeds off in the direction of her room.

         Charlie shoos the rest of them off. Vaggie kisses her girlfriend. Charlie blushes. “What’s that for,” the princess asks.

         Vaggie gives her a soft smile. “Sometimes I forget how smart you are.” She gives Charlie another soft peck before heading to their rooms.

         Charlie hums happily to herself. She turns her gaze back to the TV. Her smile dips into a scowl and her eyes go red.

         “Charlie,” Angel Dust calls.

         Charlie turns around, all sugar and sunshine. “Yes?”

         “Should I bring Nuggs? I know it’s one night, but I don’t want him in the hotel by himself.”

         “Oh sure! I bet Vark would love to see him!”

         “Surprise!” they shout when Vox’s face appears on the security monitor.

         Vox blinks at them. The reaction is slow as if his brain needs a minute to catch up. The Overlord looks absolutely haggard. “What are you doing here?” he croaks.

         “Let us in and we’ll tell you,” Charlie says with her usual amount of cheeriness.

         Vox stares for a moment longer before sighing, “Yeah, okay.”

         The doors unshutters and they head inside.

         Vox greets them by the elevator. However bad he looked on the monitor, the TV Demon looks worse up close. What’s more, the entire penthouse has the stale smell of uncirculated air and sourness of sweat. Empty cans and cereal bowls congregate in the area around the window. “Oh, this won’t do,” Alastor says with a shake of his head. “Niffty?”

         “On it!” Niffty whizzes past, cleaning and wiping.

         Alastor hums and throws open windows to get a bit of fresh air. His eyes search until he spots what he’s looking for. “Oh everyone! You must see this view!”

         The others gather around the window. Down on the street below, camping in its usual spot, is the limo.

         Everyone stands in full view. “You’re right, Alastor,” Vaggie says. “This is a lovely view.”

         Valentino’s limo slowly pulls away from the curb, turns, and drives in the direction of the porn studio.

         “And it just improved,” Husk quips.

         “What are you doing here?” Vox asks when they move away from the window.

         “We missed you,” Charlie tells him. “So, we spontaneously decided to surprise you with a sleepover!”

         “A sleepover?”

         “That’s right!” the princess says. She holds up a bulging bag. “I’ve got snacks, movies, and board games! We’ll stay here all night! Man, I bet if anyone tried to get in here to attack you, they’d be so surprised to see us here!”

         Vox tears up. He coughs and clears his throat before speaking. “I guess, I can’t stop you. I mean, you’re already here.” He chokes up and wipes his eyes. “Guess we’re having a sleepover.”

         Charlie cheers.

         Vox pulls Alastor aside. “Could I speak with you for a second? Somewhere private?”

         Alastor nods. He and Vox move to Vox’s room to have a private conversation.

         Or they attempt to.

         “Niffty,” Alastor sighs when he realizes the maid is following them.

         “What?” she says and blinks up at him innocently. “I’m just following you to do a little cleaning.” She attempts to push past Alastor’s legs.

         “Niffty.”

         “Just going to do a little cleaning...”

         “Niffty.”

         “Just a bit of cleaning in that room in particular. Don’t worry. If you two wanna talk—”

         “Niffty…”

         “Or smooch—”

         “Dear god, Niffty!”

         “I won’t disturb you.” Niffty smiles. “Promise!”

         Alastor picks Niffty up by the back of her blouse and carries her over to Husk. “Hold on to her.”

         “Yep,” Husk takes Niffty and tucks her under his arm.

         “I apologize for the wait.” Alastor says as he closes the door behind him. “I had to be sure Niffty didn’t follow.” The Radio Demon grunts as he finds himself pulled into an embrace.

         Vox hugs him tightly, holding onto the deer demon like he’s a lifeline keeping him above the water. “I’m so glad to see you,” Vox whispers in Alastor’s ear.

         Alastor puts his arms around Vox and holds the other Overlord just as tight. “I’ve missed you,” he says.

         “I’ve missed you too,” Vox replies. He sniffs. “I wanted to call you. I wanted to tell you what was going on, but I thought—”

         “That doing so would make you look weak?”

         He feels Vox nod. “I got more eyes on me now. I can feel them. People waiting for me to slip up; to fail. Alastor, I’m so goddamned tired.”

         “I know,” Alastor tells him. He rubs Vox’s back. “We’re here for you. No one will touch you. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

         They separate even though the deer demon would love nothing more than to keep holding Vox in his arms, giving the TV Demon that feeling of safety he's lacked for over a week. They return to the living room to find that Charlie and the others are rearranging the furniture. The sectionals have been pushed along the length of the windows. The chairs have been moved in front of the elevators, not quite blocking but making it a little difficult to enter and exit without maneuvering.

         “What?” Vox asks as soon as he sees what they’ve done.

         “We were just making space,” Charlie tells him. “We’re camping out here! And before you ask, yes! You are too.” She taps a finger on the part of Vox’s screen where a nose would be. “I get the feeling that you’re the type of guy who tries to get work done even when you’re in bed. None of that, mister! Today’s for fun! So, you’ll sleep out here with the rest of us so we can keep an eye on you!”

         Vox looks like he’s about to cry again. “Yeah,” he says. “Alright. That works. Thank you, Princess Morningstar.”

         Charlie looks over the moon. “You’re very welcome, Vox. Now,” she claps her hands. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I am super hungry!” She rubs her belly. “I think there’s a Chinese place nearby. How about we order some delivery?”

         Vox shakes his head. “You can’t!”

         She holds up her hands. “Or how about this? You call in an order and Vaggie and I can go pick it up? That way we can be sure no one touches it.”

         Vox nods.

         The TV Demon calls up Two Wong’s Make Rice and orders two of everything off the menu. He then spends an extra five minutes assuring the demon on the phone that it isn’t a prank then another ten minutes waiting for the person to stop weeping happily.

         While they wait for the food to be ready, they look for a movie on Voxflix. Before he gets too settled, Vox changes into an old t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. He also lets Vark out of his tank. The demon shark bolts for the living room where he’s greeted by the gathered guests and Fat Nuggets. The pig squeals and bounces on his little hooves at the sight of Vark. The two pets bound this way and that, chasing one another and hopping on the furniture.

         As he isn’t interested in the movie, Alastor keeps an eye on Vox. The TV Demon tries to relax, but the Radio Demon can see that it’s hard for him. When Charlie and Vaggie leave the get the food, Alastor tells the others to break out a board game.

         It proves a good distraction even if they do spend the time arguing rather than playing.

         “I don’t understand why I can’t play this piece,” Husk growls. “It says in the rules that if I got a card with crossbones I can place it on the board along with my bottle of poison.”

         “No,” Niffty shakes her head. “You can only play a poison bottle that’s been opened. You have a closed poison bottle. You gotta wait two turns before you can open it.”

         “That’s bullshit! Let me see the rules!”

         Thankfully, Charlie and Vaggie return carrying two boxes of food.

         Alastor’s never had Chinese food and just like with sushi; the deer demon finds there are some things he prefers and others he doesn’t.

         Alastor claims the egg rolls and spring rolls for himself. All of them. He’ll only share with Vox and Niffty despite there being, like, at least fifteen.

         “This is amazing,” Vaggie comments. “I’m so glad we did this. It’s actually kind of fun, despite the circumstances.”

         “You know it,” Angel Dust agrees. “The only thing that would make this better is if we had booze.”

         “I have booze,” Vox says.

         Angel Dust and Husk look at him. They turn two near identical pairs of sad eye expressions to Charlie.

         “Fine,” Charlie says with a roll of her eyes. “But only because it’s a special occasion!”

         Vox goes to his cabinet and breaks out a few bottles of alcohol.

         “Blessed be the grain,” Husk whispers as he pours himself a glass. “May it get me properly smashed. Forever and ever. Amen.”

         “Not that I’m not grateful,” Vox says as he swallows a mouthful of noodles, “but what made you guys decide to show up for a slumber party?”

         Charlie spoons out another helping of sweet and sour pork. “We got your message.” She looks up at Vox.

         Vox gives her a blank look. “What message? I never sent you any message. I don’t even know where my phone is.”

         The Princess giggles. “Not a phone message! The message you sent us on the TV.” At Vox’s expression she frowns. “All the footage of you being followed by Valentino?”

         Vox shakes his head. “I never sent any footage.”

         Alastor’s eyes grow wide. He looks around the room and notices that his shadow and Vox’s are over by the wall together. Alastor feels beads of perspiration dot his forehead as Vox’s shadow turns its head to look at him.

         “That’s weird,” Angel Dust says. “Maybe you did it without realizing?”

         Vox considers this. “Maybe,” he says. “I have been pretty out of it. I’m running on fumes,” he admits. “Wouldn’t be surprised if my subconscious did send you an SOS.”

         Alastor exhales. He eats another egg roll but makes sure to keep an eye on the two shadows. They didn’t seem to be doing much and eventually the two of them disappear under the sectional.

         The put the leftovers in Vox’s fridge and spend the rest of the evening playing games.

         “Would you rather eat your own foot or never have another drop of alcohol,” Vaggie asks Husk.

         “Foot. Hands down.”

         Vaggie looks disturbed. “Dude, what the fuck?”

         Husk points a claw at her. “Hey! Did we or did we not say ‘no judgment’ when this game got suggested?”

         “Yeah, but I assumed that was weird sex stuff not for deeply troubling implications of alcoholism.”

         Husk takes a swig and belches. “Implications? Honey, we moved past implications years ago.”

         “Alastor,” Niffty stands up on a coffee table and waves an arm like an excitable child in class. “Would you rather kiss Vox or marry Vox!?” she screams.

         “Niffty!” Charlie frowns. “It’s not your turn.”

         Alastor gives the maid an unamused look. “I also said that I’m not playing.”

         Niffty scowls and drops down onto the coffee table. She folds her arms and takes solace in her own drink.

         Vaggie looks concerned. “Who gave her that? Should she be drinking?”

         Niffty shoots the moth demon a look. “I could drink everyone here under the table.” When Husk laughs aloud at that, she glares daggers at him. “Okay that’s it! Drinking contest! Right now!”

         Charlie lifts a finger but then lowers it. “You know what? Sure! I did say today was about fun. Vox?”

         “Oh, hell yeah!” the Overlord gets to his feet and starts pulling out several bottles of something labeled with Lucifer’s smiling face and the color of spring grass. “Let’s get crazy.”

         Angel Dust picks up one of the bottles and peers at the green contents. “What the fuck is this?”

         “I dunno if it has an official name, but the shop I bought it from just had it labeled as ‘Amnesia’ so I thought, fuck yeah and I got, like, ten bottles.” Vox grins.

         Niffty and Husk both take a bottle. “On the count of three,” Husk says.

         “One,” Niffty opens her bottle.

         “Two,” Husk says and lifts his bottle.

         “Three!”

         The two demons start chugging. Angel Dust cheers for his boyfriend while pouring himself, Vaggie, and Charlie each a (very small) glass of Amnesia.

         Alastor only has eyes for Vox who doubles over in laughter as Husk and Niffty fall onto their back, start flailing, and screaming about how their throats burn. The deer demon’s smile widens as he takes in the joy on the TV-headed demon’s face.

         With a belly full of food, and the knowledge he’s surrounded by friends, the week plus worth of barely any sleep catches up with Vox. His eyes grow heavy, and his head begins to sag. He falls against Alastor who gently lowers Vox against his pillows. “Quiet,” he whispers. “Husk and Niffty, if you’re going to cry please do it silently so you don’t wake Vox.”

         “Actually,” Charlie says. “I think this is a good time to turn in. Let’s get everything in the fridge and go to bed.”

         Alastor wakes in the middle of the night. He’s not sure why, but he takes the opportunity to check on Vox. The TV Demon is out like a light. The TV Demon sleeps on his back, mouth slightly open as he snores softly. He has an arm over his head and the other around his middle. Alastor gives him a gentle look and pulls Vox’s blanket up a little higher. He looks around the living room. Everyone else still slumbers. Niffty has made a bed out of Vark who sleeps next to Fat Nuggets. Angel Dust sleeps with his six arms wrapped around Husk’s shoulders, chests, and hips. Vaggie has her face buried in the back of Charlie’s neck. without even having to be asked, the demons placed their sleeping bags around Vox’s sleeping form. Alastor put his sleeping bag directly next to the TV Demon, an action that made Charlie and Niffty exchange smiles which he ignored.

         Alastor finds what woke him. The Radio Demon watches as the two shadow specters slow dance with the windows as a backdrop. Vox’s shadow rests its head against the shoulder of Alastor’s. The deer demon can hear the two of them chittering and trilling softly to each other, deep in a conversation that he isn’t privy to. Alastor watches as they dance. After a while the two of them phase through the glass and take a seat on the ledge of the patio balcony in front of the kitchen. Alastor’s shadow puts an arm around Vox’s shadow’s middle. The two of them gaze out at the city.

         Alastor raises a hand to call his shadow to his side but stops. Instead, he settles back into sleeping bag and moves a little closer to Vox before closing his eyes. Let the two shadows have their private moment. They weren’t hurting anyone.

         Charlie wakes. The Princess of Hell sits up and rubs her eyes. She climbs to her feet and surveys the room. She puts a hand to her mouth and smiles at what she sees.

         Sometime during the night, Alastor and Vox moved even closer, entangled in one another’s arms, and cuddling in their sleep. Vox has his head tucked under Alastor’s chin and one of Alastor’s ears occasionally twitches in his sleep.

         It’s the most adorable thing Charlie has ever seen.

         She needs to preserve this.

         Where was her phone? She needs her phone. Charlie looks around. She feels around on the floor and finds it. With a smile, she lifts her camera phone and points it directly at the sleeping Alastor and Vox. One photo. That’s all I need. Ooh! Maybe a video instead of a photo? She switches to video mode. She just needs something to keep as a keepsake and to share with Niffty because she knows that the tiny demon would love, love, love to see this.

         Charlie frowns. Well, shoot.

         Apparently, Alastor’s aversion to photography carried over even in his sleep. Through her phone’s camera, Charlie sees the Radio Demon covered head to toe with swirling shadows and glowing red symbols, shielding him almost completely from view. The hand that Alastor has placed on the small of Vox’s back, is the only thing visible through the miasma.

         Charlie sighs and puts away her phone. She goes over to the windows and peers out at her beloved city.

         Valentino flies through the sky. Valentino was surprised to see Alastor and his band of misfits arrive at the tower. He’d spent the entire week waging psychic warfare against his ex. The idea had come to him after he opened his copy of Daily Hell and he saw a certain picture. Valentino scowls at the memory. Who the fuck did that deer-eared freak think he was? This wasn’t how things were supposed to work. Vox was supposed to stew in his misery for a while, then come crawling back to Valentino to beg to be taken back. Vox wasn’t supposed to move on. Moving on was never supposed to be an option.

Fuck Alastor for making it an option and fuck Vox for readily taking it.

Valentino’s plan had been going so well. He sat in his limo, cackling to himself as he followed Vox and then parked in front of his building. He could see Vox looking down at the street. The pimp had things to do so when he has the driver pull away, Valentino orders him to go back and do patrols. The moth demon also had the spur of the moment burst of genius to call over whoever he saw delivering food to Vox’s tower. He called the demons over and ordered them to stand still while he counted the minutes on his phone. When Valentino decided enough time had passed, he allowed the guy to go, then he watched with a shit-eating grin as Vox had a complete meltdown.

Valentino had Vox where he wanted him. Demons were paying attention. It was unusual for an Overlord to be saved by another Overlord especially when that other Overlord was a former enemy. Their fascination turned to suspicion which turned to derision.

Vox was supposed to be an Overlord, but he couldn’t handle his shit? He had to be saved? He had to hide away at some bullshit hotel. What’s up with that? There were the beginnings of whispers among the other Sinners. Whispers that maybe Vox wasn’t worthy of the title of Overlord. Maybe Vox didn’t deserve to be an Overlord.

Valentino snickers. It was perfect. All he had to do was keep undermining Vox and making him look weak and the lesser Sinner demons would do the work for him.

Who knows? Maybe if Vox got down on his knees and kissed Valentino’s feet, Valentino might, might take him back.

He’d make the Media Overlord work for it though.

Of course, he had to break the other demon first. Break him down to nothing and build him back to something better. Something that is shaped by Valentino’s desires.

That would come later.

The moth demon lands on the building opposite of Vox’s towers and crouches. He can’t get too near the building or else he’ll trip Vox’s stupid security system and he could really do without those fucking turrets firing at him. Valentino peers at the building. He can’t see much; the interior of the building is dark. Vox must be asleep. He sees Princess Morningstar wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt with an apple on it, approaching the window. She looks down at the city, a soft introspective smile on her face, but then the smile falls…

Charlie slowly raises her eyes and Valentino’s blood freezes in his veins as she meets his gaze.

Fuck! Fuckity-shit-fuck!

Charlie Morningstar, Princess and Heir to the Throne of Hell gives Valentino a slow shake of her head. She’s too far for Valentino to hear, but he sees her mouth a single word:

“Leave.”

The Overlord shoots into the sky and takes off back for the safety of his studios.

They have reheated Chinese food and cereal for breakfast. Vox insists that they take some boxes of cereal home.

“The studio gives me all these free boxes,” Vox grimaces. He hands a box of Voot Floops to Charlie. “Please take them. I’m running out of cabinet space.”

Vaggie turns the box over. “Holy shit, there’s so much sugar in these!”

“Vaggie, it’s Hell. No one gives a shit about being healthy.”

The moth demoness nods in agreement. She looks at Charlie. “Free food is free food,” and she holds out her arms and lets Vox pile boxes into them.

         Charlie starts up a conversation about the hotel and it draws the deer demon’s attention back to the group.

         “I’m just saying,” Charlie says, “I really appreciate having Alastor as the hotel’s sponsor, but I feel we could do more if we had more. Am I alone in thinking that?”

         “Well,” Vaggie says. “No one’s really hyped about sponsoring the hotel because they aren’t even sure it’s going to work.”

         “They just need to have a little faith!”

         “Hon, this is Hell. Faith isn’t something Sinner demons have an abundance of around here.”

         Vox slurps at his noodles. “What about a commercial?”

         Charlie looks at him. “What?”

         “Yeah, you guys should do a commercial. Advertise the hotel.”

         “We’ve got nothing to advertise,” Vaggie points out. “The building’s in better shape, but so far we’re still in, well, in-progress.”

         Vox shrugs. “So just shoot it as a Coming Soon. Show people what you’ve got so far. A teaser.” He smiles. “Alastor can do the voiceover.”

         The Radio Demon looks up. He’s not disinterested. “An advertisement on the picture show? Marvelous! It sounds right up my alley!”

         Charlie seems to agree if the grin on her face is anything to go by. “Oh wow! A commercial! That sounds so fun!”

         “Could you stop talking so loud?” Husk rasps. The cat demon lies face down on the floor. “Some of us are suffering.”

         “Ah, Husker,” Alastor says. He summons his microphone cane and bangs it against the floor. With each bang, Husk curls in on himself. “Whatever is the matter? You seemed to have so much fun finishing that bottle of Amnesia the previous night!”

         “Mr. Alastor,” Niffty whimpers. “Please.”

         Alastor dissipates his cane and goes to the maid’s side. “Oh, Niffty,” the deer demon says, softening his voice to a near whisper. “My deepest and most heartfelt apologies. Do you need me to get you anything?”

         “Unbelievable,” Husk grumbles. “Blatant goddamned favoritism.”

         “Hush, Husker! Show some consideration for poor Niffty!”

         It takes substantial effort, but Husk raises his head and delivers a withering glare to the Radio Demon, which Alastor – in true Alastor fashion – ignores.

         “You know,” Vox pipes up as he puts his plate in the sink. “I got this invitation to a party later this week. It didn’t really say I couldn’t bring any friends with me and even if it did they’re not going to turn me away if I show up with a group of people.” He rubs the back of his neck. “You guys should come. These are a bunch of rich, bored assholes who got more money than sense. You can hang out, schmooze, and rub shoulders. Convince them that the Hazbin Hotel is worth investing in and bing bang boom – you got some sponsors. Maybe. It really depends on how well you do.”

         “That…sounds promising,” Charlie says. She looks at Vaggie. “Right?”

         Vaggie thinks about it and nods. “Yeah. We’ll have to be on our best behavior though. Especially if we need to impress a bunch of rich people.”

         Angel Dust frowns. “Why ya gotta look at me when ya say that?”

         Vaggie crosses her arms over chest and scowls. “You know why.”

         Vox sits down next to Alastor. “So, are you guys leaving soon?” He asks. He looks a bit nervous when he says it. “You probably got stuff to do, right?”

         Alastor considers the TV Demon. “Would you like us to leave?”

         “No. Not really,” Vox answers. He fidgets with a loose thread on his shorts. “But it’s not a good look if you stay for too long.”

         Alastor nods. He understands. “I…” he stops. “Do you feel safe here, Vox?”

         Vox shakes his head. “Not at all. Not anymore. Valentino’s ruined that. He keeps fucking ruining things. And there’s nothing I can do! I leave? He wins. I stay? He tortures me and wins. All I can do is keep my head down and stick it out.”

         “Or fight him,” Angel suggests.

         Vox looks tempted, but he sighs. “Is that going to be my life now? Fighting my ex?”

         “There’s always room at the hotel,” Charlie reminds him. She smiles.

         “I appreciate that, but I don’t think I can. I can’t run to you guys every time there’s danger.”

         “Fucking politics,” Angel Dust snaps. “Vox shouldn’t be shamed for asking for help. He’s a goddamned Overlord. Isn’t he allowed allies? It’s so stupid!”

         “Of course, I’m allowed allies,” Vox says. “But demons give more respect to Overlords who work alone. Or,” he gestures to Alastor, “who have contracted souls and thralls to do their bidding.” He shrugs. “Look, it’s complicated.”

         Angel Dust huffs and says nothing.

         “Well, regardless,” Alastor says. “You can always come to the hotel if you feel safe. If anyone questions your choice then I shall deal with them. As I remember you once saying, ‘dead demons tell no tales’,” he smiles.

         Vox smiles back at him. “I guess…I could visit every once in a while. And you do need my help with the commercial. I could assemble a crew.” He brightens. “And you need my help with background information about the guests of the party. I don’t want you going in blind and making fools of yourselves.” The more he talks, the more Vox’s confidence seems to return. “I bet I can get in contact with Killjoy and schedule an interview with Charlie.”

         Charlie balks at that. “Oh, I don’t know…”

         Vox holds up a hand. “Relax. I got some pull with the station. I can make sure Killjoy and Trench play nice this time around. Let’s see, what else?” He thinks long and hard. “I guess I could do some footwork (haven’t had to do that in a while) and ask if anyone knows anybody interested in your whole redemption idea.”

         “Vox,” Charlie runs over and grabs the Overlord in a hug. “You have so many good ideas! I love it! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

         Vox blushes, not sure how to handle the sudden onslaught of positive feedback. He gives Charlie an awkward pat on the back. “Um, thanks. No problem, Princess.”

         “You should come hang out,” Vaggie suggests. “If you’re not doing anything today, I mean.”

         Alastor perks up at the suggestion. He glances at Vox who seems to think it over.

         “I don’t know,” Vox mutters.

         “But we need you for planning,” Charlie insists. She looks around. “And to help us carry all this cereal and takeout!”

         “We do?” Husk mutters.

         Alastor summons a tendril of shadows and punches the back of the cat’s head. “Quiet, Husker.”

         Vox rubs his arm. A slow smile creeps over his face. “Well, if you need my help. Who am I to say no?”

         Alastor inwardly cheers. “Splendid,” he says. He and Vox share a smile that everyone sees but they know better than to comment on. “Splendid,” the deer demon repeats.

         The ride back to Hazbin Hotel is a tight squeeze thanks to the inclusion of Vox, Vark, and the boxes of food. Alastor finds himself with Vox practically in his lap. The Radio Demon suspects that if Niffty wasn’t currently slipping in and out of her hangover-induced exhaustion, she’d be committing this to memory. Unfortunately, Charlie is fully awake, and she stares at Alastor and Vox with barely contained glee from her vantage point under one of Vark’s front legs. “So sweet,” she whispers.

         “Shut up,” Alastor whispers back.

         “Whose car is that?” Vaggie’s muffled voice asks. The moth demoness has been pressed against the driver’s side window the entirety of the ride.

         “What kind of car is it?”

         “Limo.”

         Alastor struggles as he tries to make his way to a window to see what Vaggie sees. It’s no use. He’ll have to wait until everyone is out of the car.

         Once the car parks, everyone literally spills out of the car. Vark bounds happily around the yard while everyone else stretches and works the stiffness out of their joints. “So,” Vaggie says again. “The car?”

         Alastor moves over to the stretch limo parked in their yard and pokes the tire with his cane. It didn’t look like Valentino’s, but it was similar enough that the deer demon’s hackles started to rise.

         Charlie crawls out of the car and smooths her hair down. She looks up to where Vaggie points and she jumps to her feet. With a gleeful scream she runs for the front door and throws them open. The others move to follow but keep a safe distance.

         Charlie runs around shouting. “I’m home! We’re back! Sorry to keep you waiting! I didn’t know you were coming today!”

         A smooth voice filters into the room. “I only just got into town. You need to get better security, Charlie. I was able to walk right in. Not very safe.”

         Charlie throws open her arms. “Uncle Ozzie!”

         Asmodeus, Embodiment of Lust and Demon Prince strides into the room. His triple faces smile down at his beloved niece. “Hello, my little candy apple. How have you been?”

Chapter Text

Charlie squeals in delight and throws herself at the giant demon. “Uncle Ozzie!”

Asmodeus kneels and opens his arms, readily accepting his niece’s enthusiastic hug. He scoops her up in his arms and swings her around. “Candy Apple!”

Alastor watches the display of affection with mild curiosity. Hell’s members of royalty were strange to the average Sinner. Hell’s hierarchy made demons like Asmodeus as close to deities as Hell would allow. 

Asmodeus puts Charlie down and surveys the rest of the gathered demon. “Good day, my little morsels. How are you? Pardon my rudeness.” He bows, grandly. He stands upright and hooks a thumb back at the bar. “Would it be too much of a hassle to trouble you for a drink? I’m a bit parched.”

Husk stumbles forward, hat in hand. “Um, no. I mean, yes.” The cat demon’s ears flatten as he watches as Asmodeus drops to his hands and knees. The demon prince crawls forward and peers down at the winged cat demon which just flusters Husk even more. “What I mean is, I can’t.”

Asmodeus puts a finger under Husk’s chin and lifts his face. “Awww. What seems to be the issue, pretty kitty?”

Husk’s fur floofs and Alastor can see the red on his face beneath the fur. “It’s just the alcohol here isn’t fit to serve to someone as important as you, ma’am.” Husk’s eyes go wide as he realizes what he said. “I mean sir!”

Asmodeus doesn’t take offense. “Oh, honey,” he purrs. “I’m usually a ‘sir’, but I can be a ‘ma’am’ when the mood strikes me.” With a wave of power, Asmodeus kneels above Husk sporting a massive pair of breasts. 

Husk makes a sound like someone swallowing their tongue as the demon’s impressive cleavage gets thrust in his face. 

A hand shoots out from between Asmodeus’ breasts. Another soon joins it and the two press themselves on the curve of Asmodeus’ tits and push. A head wearing a jingly jester’s cap pops out. An Imp takes a deep breath and rasps, “Holy shit, Ozzie! You know you gotta give me a head’s up before you grow these! I almost suffocated!” The Imp pulls himself free and jumps down to the floor.

Ozzie turns back to his original masculine form and scoops the Imp into his arms. He plants apologetic kisses all over the smaller demon’s face “Oh, Fizzie! I’m so sorry! You’re always so still that I sometimes forget you’re in there. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Fizz says. He suddenly gets embarrassed when he realizes there are other people present. “Ok! Ok! Ok! Stop! Staaaaawp! Ozzie, you’re embarrassing me! Okay one more but then you gotta stop.” He looks down again and sees Charlie. “Oh, shit! Is that Charlie I spy? Hiya, Charlie!”

The princess waves. “Hi, Uncle Fizz!” 

Uncle? Alastor blinks. He looks between Asmodeus and the Imp he’s currently cradling in his arms and smothering in kisses. Were those two…?

“I couldn’t very well leave him behind,” Ozzie says. “Last time I went on a trip and left Fizz in charge, he went mad with power and the other workers staged a mutiny.” He gives Fizzarolli a scritch under the chin. “They almost burned down my club when they tried to burn him in effigy.”

“Big deal,” Fizz snorts. “Everyone you put in charge ends up going mad with power.”

“That’s true, my heart, but the key is finding someone who takes longer to do so.” Ozzie gives Fizz a look. “You didn’t even wait until I was finished packing.”

Fizzarolli shrugs and says, “Yeah, well.” He shrugs again. 

Asmodeus sits back and looks at Charlie. “Now, Candy Apple. How about we get down to business? You’re needing a favor from me, my darling niece?”

Charlie nods. “This is Angel Dust,” she grabs Angel by the arm and hauls him closer. “He’s the one I’d like you to help.”

“Hmm,” Ozzie studies Angel Dust. “Yes, we reviewed the video you sent us. Fill My Hole was a good watch, Angel. We’re big fans aren’t we, Fizz?”

Fizzarolli coils around Asmodeus’ shoulders and leers down at Angel Dust. “Big fans,” he says with a suggestive smile. “Oz and I watched it twice. Kudos.”

Angel Dust gives them a bashful smile. “Thanks. It’s always nice when people enjoy my work.”

“Now, Candy Apple,” Asmodeus looks at Charlie, “you said that he’s a formerly contracted soul of Valentino. How did that happen? As far as I’m aware there’s no such thing as ‘formerly contracted’.”

Charlie opens her mouth to respond when she’s interrupted by the front doors being thrown open.

Valentino storms in, scanning the room. As his eyes land on Alastor, his face twists in rage. “You!” He snarls. “You absolute fucker!” He begins stomping toward the deer demon

Alastor bares his teeth in a feral grin and spreads his arms wide in a parody of a greeting. “Valentino! I was hoping I’d see you sooner or later. I would say that it was pleasure to see you—” The remainder of Alastor’s quip is cut off by Valentino cold cocking the Radio Demon in the jaw. The blow rocks Alastor backwards and off his feet. Alastor sits on the floor. He drags the back of his hand across his mouth and his eyes burn with hatred as he stares up at Valentino. “Very well,” the deer demon hisses. “Let’s do this.” He springs from the floor and throws himself at the moth demon, catching Valentino by surprise who had expected the other Overlord to attack with magic.

The two Overlords grapple on the floor, punching and kicking one another. 

“Could you two knock it off?” Vaggie screams at them. “We have company! Also, you’re fucking Overlords! Why do you keep punching each other like you’re a couple of kids?!”

Valentino pins Alastor to the ground and raises a fist. His head snaps up to the sound of Vaggie’s voice. “Shut the fuck up, you stupid –” he stops when he finally sees Asmodeus. “Holy shit! Is that—”

Alastor headbutts him. “Eyes on me, ruffian!” He wraps his hands around Valentino’s throat. He begins to throttle the moth demon. “You come to my hotel—”

“Your hotel?” Vaggie cuts in.

“You know what I mean, Vagatha! You come here and attack me unprovoked?”

Valentino’s lower arms punch Alastor in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Valentino knocks him off. “You know why I’m here! You know what you did!”

Asmodeus wraps his hand around Valentino’s waist and pulls him into the air. “That’s enough of that,” he says. He wraps his other hand around Alastor’s waist. He holds both the Overlords midair and glowers at them. “You two are cutting in on my hang time with my little Candy Apple and I don’t appreciate it.”

Valentino’s mouth falls open. “You’re Asmodeus! Holy fuck on a fuck! You’re Asmodeus!”

The hellish prince gives the moth demon an unamused look. “Yeah, I’m aware of who I am. I also know who you are.”

“ The Asmodeus knows who I am?”

“Honey, trust me that’s not a good thing.” Ozzie narrows his eyes and takes in Valentino’s coat and hat. He opens his hand and lets Valentino fall. “Now, I repeat. Why are you here busting into my niece’s hotel like you own the damned place?”

“That fucker,” Valentino points at Alastor. “Came to my studio and vandalized my property—again!”

“What?” Vox frowns. He looks at Alastor then back at Valentino. “That’s a baseless accusation, and you have no proof!”

“Oh, I have proof! That dumb fuck got caught on video!” Valentino fishes into his coat and pulls out a cellphone. He thumbs the screen and turns the phone around to show them the video. “Last night, Alastor broke into my studio, threw my car into the river, and just started destroying all my shit! But I caught him! I have proof!”

The others watch the video. A dark form that resembles Alastor is shown tearing into the walls of Valentino’s studio. They watch as things are smashed, broken, and tossed from the windows. The moth demon smirks proudly. “I had a camera in that room, and you didn’t even know it!”

“Let me see that,” Vaggie snatches the phone away. Valentino makes a noise of protest. Vaggie leans in close to stare at the footage. Something bothers her about it. “When did this supposedly happen?”

“Last night.”

Charlie shakes her head. “That can’t be Alastor.”

“Um, yeah it can.” Valentino replies. “Look at the screen. Dumb ears. Stupid antlers. It’s him!”

“Okay first, we were all Vox’s last night, so the time doesn’t work. And second, Alastor can’t be videotaped. I know because I tried to video him while he was sleeping.”

Multiple sets of eyes turn to look at the princess.

Charlie’s face reddens. “I had a really good reason,” she stutters. She looks at Alastor. “You and Vox were cuddling in your sleep! It was super cute!”

“Awww!” Niffty, Angel, and Asmodeus say in unison.

Vaggie slows down the footage. She stares at it. “Oh my god. Alastor! That’s your shadow. Your shadow is trashing Valentino’s stuff.”

Asmodeus lowers Alastor to the floor and the deer demon makes his way to the moth demoness’ side. He looks at the screen. He can see his doppelganger’s glowing mouth and eyes as it gleefully rips into important documents and throws them about the office like confetti. “Ah.”

Valentino fumes. “So, you sicced your shadow on me? Is that it? You absolute—” he takes a step forward only to have his path blocked by Vox. “Move,” he glares at the TV Demon.

Vox glares back. “No,” he snarls. 

Vaggie’s brows furrow as she keeps looking at the footage. There’s something still wrong. Something darts by the camera and Vaggie’s eye goes wide with shock. “Alastor, can your doppelganger split itself?”

Valentino snarls in Vox’s face. “You and the Radio Demon have gotten real chummy, huh? Makes me suspicious. Makes me think you weren’t as big of enemies as you wanted people to think.”

Vox narrows his eyes. He sucks on his teeth. “Sounds like you’re fucking projecting, Tino.”  He puts a hand on Valentino’s arm and tries to lead him to the door. “You need to leave. I’m sick of you. You’ve spent the week harassing me and I don’t appreciate it. You don’t get to come here and attack people because you feel wronged.”

Valentino backhands him.

Alastor’s eyes shift to dials and he surges forward. 

Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!

The Radio Demon never gets a chance to attack because Valentino gets hoisted into the air. The Moth Pimp kicks out his legs and claws at his throat. 

Vox’s shadow holds Valentino’s shadow by its throat. The shadow’s eyes are crimson red as the shadow attempts to strangle the Overlord.

Alastor’s doppelganger rises from the floor and moves to stand beside Alastor. It gives Vox’s shadow an encouraging chirr as if cheering it on.

Asmodeus hums and looks almost bored. “You best put a stop to this,” he tells Vox.

“What?” Vox looks startled. “I’m not doing that!” 

Alastor’s shadow trills once and Vox’s shadow lets Valentino fall to the floor. The Overlord scrambles away coughing and gasping for air. 

Everyone looks at Alastor.

Alastor laughs shrilly. “Ha! So, funny story,” he claps his hands. “You’re all going to find this hilarious. My shadow decided it wanted a friend so it…brought Vox’s shadow to life.”

“Aw!” Charlie says.

“No! No ‘aw’! Do not ‘aw’ that!” Husk yells. He looks wild-eyed. “I didn’t know your shadow could do that.”

Alastor shrugs. “I didn’t know it could do it either,” he admits. Alastor looks at his doppelganger who has moved over to Vox’s shadow and begin conversing.

Asmodeus looks at Charlie. He whispers something to Fizz who gives the archdemon a nod. Fizz jumps off Ozzie, coils his body around Valentino. “Let’s get some air,” Fizz laughs before springing out of the door with the moth pimp in tow. 

When they’re gone, Asmodeus directs the rest of them to the sitting room. He shrinks to a more manageable size before lowering himself to a couch. He crosses his legs and studies the assembled group of demons, pausing a moment to look at the two shadows who’ve followed. Asmodeus sighs and looks at Charlie. “Charlotte Morningstar,” Charlie winces at the use of her full name in such a disapproving tone. “What did you do?”

Charlie blinks up innocently at her uncle. “I have no idea what you mean, Uncle Asmodeus.” She plasters on her sweetest smile.

Asmodeus looks unamused. “You know, I thought it was weird when you used the term formerly contracted when referring to Angel Dust. It really flagged something in my brain.” He leans forward.

“Technically, Angel Dust is contracted. He’s just contracted to a different Overlord now.”

Asmodeus’ brow arches. “Contracted to a different Overlord,” he repeats. “Who?”

Alastor raises a hand. “Present!”

Asmodeus nods. He looks back at Charlie. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, Candy Apple but I thought that once a soul signed with an Overlord they stayed with that Overlord. Is that correct?”

Charlie doesn’t say anything. She stands there, hands clasped in front of her, bottom lip jutting out in a pout, and eyes downcast. 

Asmodeus puts a claw under her chin and lifts her face. “Look at me, Charlie.”

She does so.

“Did you give him a royal boon?”

In a tiny voice, Charlie says, “I was just trying to help.”

Asmodeus falls back against the chair and facepalms. “Charlotte Morningstar!” He says in a fully exasperated tone. “You know we don’t give out royal boons! Not anymore!”

“I know, Uncle Ozzie! But—”

“I mean, we had all those problems with the civil wars!”

“Yes, I remember but—”

“The blood feuds! Abuses of power! The general havoc! It took ages for your father to get things back under control!”

“I know! I know!” Charlie looks like she’s about to cry. “I had to! Angel Dust needed to be away from Valentino! Alastor needed the boon to free him!” She stifles a sob. “I wanted to help.”

Asmodeus makes a sympathetic noise and uses his thumb to gently wipe away Charlie’s tears. “Oh Charlie,” he says, not unkindly. “It always amazes me that someone with a heart as big as yours was born in these fiery pits.” He grows a bit in size so he can lift the princess into his arms. She presses her face into his shirt and cries. Asmodeus pats her back. “There, there,” he sighs. He glances at Alastor. “You know there’s another reason we don’t just hand out boons anymore, right?”

Charlie sits back and wipes her face. “What?”

Asmodeus looks at Alastor. He says, “Tell me, Radio Demon. Other than your shadow bringing another shadow to life, is it still acting in character?”

“Ha!” Alastor can’t help but laugh at that. “Hardly!” 

He relays the shenanigans of his doppelganger, slowly at first, but the amount of time plus his frustration causes the Radio Demon to devolve into a full rant.  

“And it just laughs at me, like—you’re doing it now; I can see you! Stop. It. And-and-and that’s not all! It’s summoned itself after I banished it which I do not appreciate at all because the absolute disrespect—”

Asmodeus nods as he listens, one hand cupped under the chin of his primary head, the other keeping Charlie upright as she sits on his lap. The princess has stopped crying, but she still looks unhappy like a child who's been found out and is waiting for her punishment to be decided.

“I see,” Asmodeus says, interrupting Alastor mid-rant. “That sounds very frustrating. Tell me, did its disobedience increase before or after you received your boon?”

Alastor’s eyes snap toward Charlie who covers her mouth with both hands. “After,” the deer demon almost whispers. He stares accusingly at Charlie. 

Charlie offers him an apologetic shrug and an, “Oops?”

Alastor wants to choke her.

Asmodeus nods. He boops Charlie on the nose. “And that is precisely why we don’t give out royal boons anymore. Alastor, your shadow was probably semi-sentient or sentient enough to understand and complete orders. You got a power boost from that boon and consequently so did it,” he points at Alastor’s doppelganger. “Your shadow now has full sentience, complete with its own desires, new abilities, and apparently endless attitude and sass.” Asmodeus offers Alastor a smile. “Congratulations.”

Nooooooooo!

“I don’t want this,” Alastor yells at Charlie. He points back at the shadow. “Fix it! Fix it now!”

“I can’t,” Charlie waves her arms. “I would have to undo your boon and I’m not even a hundred percent sure that would work!”

Alastor pulls at his ears. He glares at his doppelganger who has the audacity to stick out its tongue. 

“Are we going to have to worry about that thing bringing our shadows to life,” Husk asks. 

Alastor huffs. “No,” he says. “It assured me it was only interested in Vox’s shadow. It could care less about the rest of you.”

Vox walks over to the two shadows. He stares at his doppelganger. This entire time, he’s been quiet. He holds out a hand. His doppelganger lifts its hands. Their fingers meet. “I thought I was going crazy,” Vox whispers.

Alastor looks at him. “What?”

Vox looks back at him. “The other night when I was in my chair and dozing off. I saw him standing beside me. He was looking at me. When I woke up again, I thought it was just a product of my sleep deprivation. Plus, there were times I thought I saw him moving by himself.” Vox laughs. “I’m so glad that I’m not losing my mind.”

Charlie looks up at her uncle. “Are you going to tell my dad?”

“Well,” Asmodeus hums. “I told your father that when he was setting this all up that he should have a system in place that keeps track of whose soul is contracted to who and your father told me and I quote: ‘to mind my fucking business and stop telling him how to do his job’ and I was like, ‘Well, that seems like something that could have consequences later on’ and he was like, ‘How about you let me run Pride the way I want and you run Lust the way you want?’ and then I said, ‘Lucifer, that seems really irresponsible’ and then he bit me like the fucking little gremlin he is and—" Asmodeus stops when he sees the others staring at him. “Sorry. To answer your question, Charlie: no. I will not tell your father about you giving a royal boon to an Overlord to allow him to steal a soul from another Overlord, because as your father loves to point out, Pride is not my ring so it ain’t my business.” Asmodeus gives his niece a kiss on the cheek. “Now, that’s not to say that he won’t get wind of this eventually. Especially if your shadows are hellbent on fucking around on their own and throwing people’s cars into rivers.” He gives the shadows a pointed look.

“Why did they do that anyway,” Angel Dust asks. “It’s not like Smiles asked them to do it.”

Asmodeus looks at the shadows. “They wanted to. The Radio Demon’s doppelganger is already an extension of him. That means that for good or for bad it has a lot of your personality traits. The same probably goes for Vox’s, but to a lesser extent due to it being created by Alastor’s shadow. If I had to make an educated guess, I also think that Vox’s shadow wanted to retaliate because of what Valentino had been doing to Vox. It feels a connection to Vox as much as Alastor’s shadow feels a connection to him.”

That would explain why it tried to choke Valentino after he struck Vox, Alastor muses. He nods. “Well, it’s less than ideal,” Alastor says, “But at least you have some extra protection.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Vox agrees. He pauses, “Are you the one who sent them the footage?”

His shadow nods. Vox smiles. “Thanks.” His shadow chirrs and wraps itself around Vox in a hug.

“How very sweet,” Asmodeus says. “Welp,” he claps his hands. “I think we should get down to the reason I’m actually here. Angel Dust, was it?”

The spider demon snaps to attention at the side of his name. “Y-yes, sir?”

Asmodeus smiles at him. “I hear you want to work for me?”

“Yes, sir. Um, ye-that would be awesome.”

Asmodeus strokes his chin. “It won’t be easy to convince Lucifer to let one his Sinners travel to Lust but maybe—and that’s a big maybe—I can butter him up. You’re not trying to stay in Lust, after all. You’re just trying to get work. That should work in your favor. Have you ever waited tables?”

Angel Dust shakes his head. “Valentino had me on stage. Only time I was near a table was when I was asked to dance on one.”

“Hmm. Well, Charlie’s expressed how much she doesn’t want you getting too wild. Don’t want to conflict with your redemption,” Asmodeus looks at the princess. “Candy Apple, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. This whole redemption idea. Are you really sure? I just feel like you haven’t given it a lot of thought.”

“I’ve given it so much thought, Uncle Ozzie! This is the only way to deal with the overpopulation in the city. Dad’s certainly not going to do anything about it,” Charlie adds in an uncharacteristically grouchy tone. “I don’t know why he’s not acting! Sinners will keep coming down here and we’ll keep running out of space. The problem’s not going to fix itself.”

Asmodeus holds up a hand. “Charlie, I understand where you’re coming from, but I think you’re really overestimating…” He stops. He sighs. “Argument for another time. Angel Dust, I’m going to talk to Lucifer and alert him to my plan to have you commute to and from Lust for work. I’ll let you dance at Ozzie’s on a trial basis. If that doesn’t work out, we have plenty of stores where you can work.” Asmodeus offers the spider demon a gentle smile. “We’ll find you something.”

Angel Dust looks beside himself with joy. For the first time in a long time, Angel feels hope. “Thank you,” he says and bows his head. “Thank you so much.”

Asmodeus smiles at the spider demon.

Fizzarolli bounces back into the room. “That Valentino dude fucked off,” he informs them. “He got tired of my jokes. Rude.” He jumps into Ozzie’s lap and reclines. “Everything good, Big Guy?”

“Good as it can get, Fizzy Baby.” Ozzie leans back. “Considering such, we got some downtime. Let’s chat, y’all. Tell me about you. I don’t get to Pride very often.” He smiles. “Go on, dish!”

“Well,” Charlie says, excitedly. “Thanks to Vox, we’re planning to do a big commercial!”

“A commercial,” Asmodeus leans forward. “For your hotel?”

Charlie nods. “Like a preview of what we have to offer.”

“Mm-hmm. And what exactly do you have to offer, Candy Apple?”

The princess hesitates. “Well, right now we’re more in the planning session,” she admits.

Vox of all people is the one who interjects to assist her. “But that’s good, right? I can frame so that it leaves the viewer wanting more. I mean, they’re already familiar with the idea. We just need to flesh it out.” He starts laying out the plan. 

Alastor smiles as he watches as Vox excitedly details how he’s going to film the hotel’s commercial as the others take a seat on the floor to listen. The TV Demon seems to be in his element. The deer demon leans back in his seat. His gaze catches sight of his and Vox’s shadow gliding up behind Asmodeus. Alastor’s eyebrows rise as he watches the two shadows twirl and meld into one another before separating. They nuzzle one another. 

Alastor’s shadow takes hold of Vox’s shadow’s face and kisses it gently on the mouth.

Alastor’s mouth falls open slightly.

The fuck?!

Alastor’s eyes dart to the others. Vox still has their attention and Asmodeus’ size thankfully blocks the shadows from view. Alastor is the only one privy to what’s happening.

The shadows break apart after their gentle kiss and stare deeply into each other’s eyes…

…and then start viciously making out.

Alastor’s eyes bulge as he watches as his doppelganger wraps its arms around Vox’s shadow’s waist and presses against the other shadow’s body. Vox’s shadow cups the back of his doppelganger’s head and deepens the kiss.

“Alastor?”

The Radio Demon snaps to attention. “Hmm?”

Vox and the rest are looking at him. “I was saying that we’ll need to workshop a script for you. You can’t be on camera, so we’re counting on you for voiceover. Would you prefer a script or cue cards?”

Alastor can barely pay attention to what’s being said. Not with what’s going on behind them. “I…um…”

Charlie looks worried. “Alastor, are you okay? You’re looking a little freaked out.”

“I am! Fine, I mean. I’m perfectly fine but thank you for asking!”

Alastor’s doppelganger starts nipping at the neck of Vox’s shadow. His doppelganger slots its thigh between the legs of Vox’s doppelganger and begins grinding.

Alastor feels ill.

He must look like it too because the others are staring at him. “I um…” He struggles to think of something to say. To his utmost horror, Fizzarolli seems to realize that there’s something behind them that has the deer demon’s attention.

The jester begins to turn…

Alastor manifests a giant spotlight and shines it in their faces and more importantly onto the shadows. The others scream and recoil as they’re blinded. The shadows’ bodies break apart in the sudden illumination. “Bright lights,” Alastor yells for no reason. “While I have no plans to be on the screen, I do find the allure of the spotlight too tempting to ignore! But alas, I shall have to be satisfied with simply providing narration.”

“That’s great Alastor,” Vox says, shielding his face. “Um. Could you maybe stop shining that in our faces?”

“Jesus fuck! My retinas!” Fizzarolli screams.

“Of course,” Alastor shoves the spotlight away. The shadows reassemble themselves and glare at the Radio Demon. Forcing them to dematerialize and reform in such a manner appears to have had the same effect of throwing cold water on amorous cats. The doppelgangers glide away, probably seeking somewhere with more privacy and fewer chances of being assaulted by light. “Apologies,” Alastor says. “I was being dramatic.”

“There’s being dramatic and being…whatever the fuck that was,” Angel Dust mutters as he rubs his eyes. “I’m going to be seeing spots for hours!”

“Again, you have my sincerest apologies.” Alastor bows deep. 

Asmodeus blinks until the spots disappear. “Charlie, honey, your friends are strange.” He moves Fizz to his shoulder before getting to his feet. “And on that note, I bid you all a good day. Fizz and I need to find a hotel.”

Charlie looks massively offended. “Uncle Ozzie, we’re a hotel!”

Asmodeus looks around, visibly unimpressed. “Candy Apple, now don’t take this the wrong way but I’m used to a sudden level of…luxury.” He pats her on the head. “I’ll stop by to see you again before I leave Pride. Love you!”

“Asmodeus,” Vox calls. He bows. “Sir, would it be too much trouble to speak with you? Privately?”

“Mm? Well, consider me intrigued. Walk me to my car.”

Alastor rubs a hand down his face. With each passing day, it seemed that his list of concerns about his newly ascended shadow continue to grow. Alastor has no idea where his doppelganger even learned about such carnal acts, although he suspects it may have learned through the many times the Radio Demon sent it to spy on others. Alastor does not like to consider that instead of learning anything useful, his shadow was just being a voyeur. 

“You okay, Al?” Husk asks. The cat demon genuinely looks concerned which tells Alastor that he must look horrible.

“I’m well enough, Husker,” Alastor sighs. “I think that the news about my shadow has gotten me a bit rattled.” He gets to his feet. “I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.”

Outside Vox stands before Asmodeus. The demon prince has his arm raised and out to allow Fizzarolli to swing from it. Vox doesn’t know whether he should bow or kneel. Asmodeus was his first royal.

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Ozzie chuckles. “You don’t have to kneel. Now what’s this about?”

“I’m in love with someone,” the TV Demon blurts. “I need to know if there’s a way to make it stop before I ruin everything.”

Fizzarolli stops swinging and slithers along Asmodeus’ shoulders like a snake, draping his robotic limbs like a scarf. Asmodeus studies Vox. “Does this person know you’re in love with them?”

Vox shakes his head. 

“Do you think there’s a chance they feel the same?”

Vox pauses to think about it. He shakes his head again.

Asmodeus sighs. “I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t have a spell or whatever that can just take your love away. It doesn’t work like that.” He pauses to smile at Fizz when the Imp starts nuzzling his ram head. “Love is a burden. A curse. That’s why I don’t bother with it.”

Vox stares. He watches as Ozzie giggles as Fizz gives kisses to each of his heads. “You sure about that,” he inquires flatly.

With no ounce of self-awareness, Asmodeus waves a hand and says, “Of course! I stick to lust and lust alone. Getting attached only causes problems.”

Apparently Fizz also lacks self-awareness because the Imp jester adds, “No offense, but if you’re dumb enough to fall in love then you need to deal with it yourself. Love’s for suckers.” He climbs into Ozzie’s shirt, smiling when Asmodeus scratches under his chin. 

The Media Overlord looks at the two demons and realizes that they’re either stupid, oblivious, or both. Whatever the case, it’s obvious that Asmodeus won’t be any help with his issue.

“Right,” he says. “Well, thank you for listening. I’ll let you get on your way. I know you got a hotel to find.”

Ozzie climbs into his limo. As he shuts the door, Vox can hear the prince and Fizzarolli discussing what they want for dinner. 

“Don’t bother with love, my ass,” Vox mutters as the car rolls away. Who did they think they were fooling? He goes back inside and looks around. “Where’s Alastor,” he asks Vaggie. 

“His room,” she replies. 

He thanks Vaggie before going upstairs to find Alastor. As Vox climbs the stairs, he finds himself thinking about what he wants to do. Should he talk to Alastor about what he’s feeling or continue bottling them up? As far as the TV Demon was aware Alastor didn’t feel anything more than friendship. Would Vox weird him out?

Vox stops on the stairs. He looks up toward Alastor’s door. 

Like a coward, he turns around and retreats down the stairs. 

For some reason, Alastor finds it very difficult to work. Try as he might, the Radio Demon can’t seem to focus on the forms in front of him. His mind keeps returning to Vox. He taps his pen against the hardwood of his desk and idly wonders if the Media Overlord wants company. After he rereads the same line for the umpteenth time, Alastor decides that a break is in order. He glances at his shadow. It stands in the corner, watching him work. The deer demon has to hide the fact that he finds it unnerving that his shadow chooses to spend more and more time outside of the void. 

Alastor clears his throat. “Would you like to go visit Vox?” He pauses then adds, “And his shadow.”

His doppelganger trills and its Jack o’lantern-like smile stretches. It moves to fall in step behind Alastor as the deer demon heads for the door. Alastor can feel the telltale sensation of it reattaching itself. 

He passes Vaggie in the hall and the moth demoness looks shocked. “What are you doing down here?” she asks.

Alastor smirks at her. “Well, if you must know,” He says. “I was trying out this brand-new concept! It’s called ‘working!’ Between you and me, I think it’s only a passing phase. Never going to catch on.”

Vaggie scowls at him (honestly, where was her sense of humor). “You’re such a smartass! I meant, what are you doing down here? I told Vox you were in your room.”

“Why would you do that? I told everyone I’d be in my office?” How long had the TV Demon been waiting for him? 

Vaggie shrugs. “Well, I guess I didn’t hear that part.” She sighs. “Sorry.”

Alastor briefly considers opening the void and making her walk home again, but decides against it. She looks appropriately apologetic, so he decides to let it slide. And perhaps, he’s also feeling a bit embarrassed by his earlier inability of dealing with Vox being away. So, instead of opening a portal and dumping her in Pride’s landfill, Alastor just lets her go.

He shadow-jumps to his room and looks around.

Hmm. No sign of Vox which is no surprise given his room is still locked. 

(Should he give Vox a key to his room?)

Alastor’s face reddens at the image of a smiling Vox waiting for him in his room, eager to know how his day has been. Alastor has no desire or intent to examine why he’s even considering allowing someone who isn’t him (or Niffty but he doesn’t count her because she’s supposed to enter for work reasons) access to his room. He also has no desire or intent to examine why the idea pleases him. Instead, Alastor buries both the earlier image and the attached feeling deep in his subconscious where it would most likely return later as an intrusive thought as he's trying to sleep.

But that was Future Alastor’s problem.

Present Alastor teleports down to Vox’s room and raises a fist to knock. His brow furrows as he remembers the previous times and decides – manners be damned – to teleport directly into the room. 

The Radio Demon’s heart stalls at the sight of Vox slumped over in his chair. Alastor walks briskly to Vox’s side and leans over to examine him. 

He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees the rising and falling of Vox’s chest. There are color bars on Vox’s dimly lit face and Please Stand By scrolls along the screen. 

Alastor puts a hand to his brow and laughs softly, feeling silly about his earlier panic. Vox is just sleeping. Of course, he’s just sleeping! He’s had an exhausting week. It’s a surprise he was able to wake up with the rest of them this morning. 

Alastor turns to leave but finds his shadow blocking his path. He glares at it and tries to sidestep, but the blasted thing moves each time. 

“What are you doing?” he hisses.

The shadow doesn’t answer, just continues to be a nuisance. 

“We can’t stay,” Alastor whispers. He looks over his shoulder to make sure that Vox’s has woken. “He’s resting. We need to leave.”

The shadow’s lower half morphs into a serpentine form and wraps around Alastor, trapping his arms. The shadow then pulls Alastor into the air and starts doing slow laps around the room all while carrying the deer demon. “Oh, I swear on my mother’s grave that I will find a way to end you!” He snarls before he can stop himself. 

“Alastor?”

The deer demon curses a blue streak at his doppelganger stupid grinning face before turning to look at Vox. The TV-headed Overlord rubs at his eyes and yawns mightily. He looks groggily at the deer demon, still trapped by his own shadow. “What are you doing here? Is your shadow attacking you?”

Alastor forces a jovial laugh that he doesn’t feel. “My shadow is just being playful,” he lies. “We came to visit, but discovered you were resting. I thought it was best to leave you to your slumber. My shadow,” and here Alastor narrows his eyes in a glare, “Disagreed.”

His shadow takes that moment to release him. Alastor brushes himself off and glares daggers at the specter. It simply smiles and presses a single claw against Alastor’s forehead. The deer demon’s eyes flash with arcane light for a split second. Satisfied, the shadow moves over to Vox. It nuzzles Vox’s face once before kneeling to poke at his shadow. Vox’s shadow opens its eyes and chirrs happily at the sight of Alastor’s.

Alastor prays to anyone listening that the two shadows act accordingly or at the very least, leave their presence before engaging in their weird, shadowy fornication.

Alastor’s shadow looks his way, and the deer demon sees its smile widen. 

Alastor holds his breath and waits.

Alastor’s shadow takes Vox’s by the hand and the two of them phase through the floor and go off to who-knows-where.

Alastor releases the held breath and laughs awkwardly when Vox makes a passing comment about the shadows’ closeness. You have no idea , the deer demon thinks with a grimace. 

Vox forms a seat for Alastor next to him. “Take a seat,” he yawns again. Vox looks around on the floor before finding an unopened can of Joltz. Alastor whips out a tendril of shadows and snatches it away before the other Overlord can crack it open. “Hey!”

“Oh no you don’t,” Alastor wags a finger. He hides the can behind his back. “I’m pretty certain you have enough of this flooding your system. You need to submit to slumber, not fight it off.”

“I don’t feel like sleeping,” Vox mumbles. His body betrays him by causing him to yawn. “Okay, I do, but I have so much that needs to be done. I’m already so far behind! And don’t forget I gotta plan that commercial for you guys and—” Vox screams as he finds his chair falling from out under him. The Media Overlord lands on Alastor’s bed. “Alastor, what the hell?!” he snaps when the deer demon appears beside the bed. 

“You need rest,” Alastor says firmly. He starts moving about his room, dimming lights before selecting a record to put on. 

“I can rest in my room!”

Alastor looks up from thumbing through his box of music to level a look at Vox. “We both know that’s not true.”

Vox’s face briefly goes snowy. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Vox, my shadow despite its current disobedient nature is very observant. That’s its job, after all. It’s my spy. A damned good one.” Alastor turns back to his records. He picks one up then puts it back before continuing, “What it sees, I see.”

“Okay,” Vox says slowly.

“Mm-hmm. Before you left, after it decided to bring your shadow to life, the two of them were spending more and more time with your doppelganger. Incidentally, that often has them meeting in your room.”

“Alastor, I—”

“Don’t interrupt, Vox. As I said, what my shadow sees, I see.” Alastor turns to look at Vox. He gives the TV Demon a moment to squirm under his gaze. “Vox, where is your bed?”

Vox opens his mouth then promptly closes it. “I have somewhere to sleep,” he protests. “I do!”

“Uh-huh. Where would that be?”

The Media Overlord winces. “My chair reclines.” He screams when he finds himself literally tied to the bed by thick tentacles of shadow. “Alastor, be reasonable!”

Alastor digs around in his closet until he finds a spare quilt. He throws it over Vox and tucks it tight. “You’re going to sleep,” he informs the TV Demon. “You’ve been awake for the better part of a week.”

“Alastor, you can’t just leave me tied to your bed! This is fucking weird!”

“I can and will until I’m satisfied that you’ve had an adequate amount of sleep!”

Vox starts struggling. “I only need about three hours to function,” he insists. “Three hours and half a case of Joltz and I’m good. I swear!”

The deer demon leans over until his face almost touches Vox. The Media Overlord falls silent as he stares up at Alastor, his eyes wide. 

Alastor lifts Vox’s head and picks up the pillow beneath him, gives it a quick fluff before putting it back in its proper place. “Have a good rest, Vox!”

“Alastor!”

“Nope!” Alastor sings as he walks out of the room. Before he leaves, he snaps his fingers, a record flies from the box and lands on the phonograph. Sweet, soft flute music begins to play.

“Oh, come the fuck on,” Alastor hears Vox swear before he shuts the door.

The Radio Demon hums as he makes his way downstairs. “Ah good, you’re all together,” he says when he reaches the lobby and sees the other hotel residents gathered. He clears his throat. “I have an announcement to make. I currently have Vox tied to my bed.”

This declaration is so bizarre that it takes a literal minute to register in the others’ brains.

“What the fuck, Alastor?!” Vaggie throws up her hands.

Angel Dust whistles. “Holy shit! Smiles, I had no idea you were so kinky!”

Alastor glares at the spider demon even as he holds out a hand to catch hold of Niffty as the maid tries to make a break for the stairs. He picks her up and holds her under his arm. “Angel, I would insist that you keep your perversions to yourself, but I feel I would have better luck asking water not to be wet or the sky not to be red.”

Angel Dust blows the deer demon a kiss.

“In any case,” Alastor continues, “I have a good reason for doing what I’ve done.”

“Can’t wait to hear it,” Husk says from his post. 

“It’s simple, my feline friend. Vox needs rest. To rest properly, he needs a bed. I’ve provided that bed.”

“Why can’t he just sleep in his own bed?” Vaggie asks.

Alastor sighs. “He would need a bed to do so.”

“Wait, he doesn’t have a bed?”

“Vagatha, he doesn’t even have a bedroom.” Alastor uses his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe it took me so long to notice! He only used his magic to create a workspace! No added rooms of any kind.” Alastor pauses then murmurs, “Does he have a bathroom? He must…”

“Wait, time out,” Charlie says. “Vox was here for a few days before he went back to his tower.  After he healed up. He must have slept at least once!”

“He informed me that his chair reclines.”

A disapproving look crosses over Charlie’s face. “Well,” she sniffs. “That won’t do. Alastor, please feel free to keep Vox tied to your bed.”

“A sentence I never thought I’d hear,” Husk comments. Alastor tosses him a warning look. “Glare all you want. Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“The Hazbin Hotel is a place for recovery,” Charlie tells them. “A place for healing. Vox may not be here for rehabilitation but he’s still a guest. Guests are entitled—no, expected to relax.”

“What if Vox is one of those people who can’t relax,” Vaggie points out. “I mean, the guy almost died and the second he was up, all he wanted to do most was send emails and work.”

“He only needed to send those emails after he caused his emotionally charged blackout,” Charlie reminds her. “Maybe once things are normal Vox is able to relax more. Things…just aren’t normal currently.”

That was an understatement. 

“Regardless,” Alastor cuts in. “He needs to rest. I’ll release him so he can have dinner. After which I expect us all to stage an intervention of sorts and encourage—”

“You mean, force,” Husk pipes up.

Alastor summons a tentacle and it smacks the cat demon across the face. “Encourage,” he repeats. “Vox to add a place of rest in his room. I’m not asking for much. A cot would suffice. Just somewhere he can lay his head.”  Satisfied, he moves to deposit Niffty back onto the floor. He stops. “Niffty?”

“Yes, Mr. Alastor?”

“Leave Vox alone. He’s had a hard time and needs rest.”

Niffty thinks about it. She nods slowly. With a sigh, Alastor puts her down. The maid walks off, but thankfully it’s nowhere near the stairs.

Alastor returns to his office and gets a bit of work done. He summons his shadow and is thankful when Vox’s doppelganger appears as well. “I have your master in a state of forced rest,” he tells it. Vox’s shadow tilts its head like a confused puppy. “You’ll understand better when you see it. It doesn’t look ideal, but it’s for his own good.” The deer demon flinches because he realizes how that must sound. “But you two don’t need to worry. If anything, this gives you two more free time. Enjoy it!”

The shadows do just that.

Alastor goes upstairs to check on Vox. The warmth of the quilt and flute music have done their jobs. Vox lays back against the bed, fully conked out. Alastor can hear him snoring softly and briefly considers releasing him from his bonds before thinking better of it. All he needed was for Vox to stir in his sleep, realize he was free, and escape to work himself into a second grave.

Alastor teleports down to Vox’s room. The deer demon feels around on the wall for a light switch, but quickly realizes there isn’t one. He summons his cane. The mic’s eye opens and shines a brilliant light to help the Radio Demon investigate the room. Alastor remembers his shadow doing laps around the room. Alastor looks at the walls of televisions. He knocks on one and discovers a switch beneath it. He flips it and the wall of screens slides away, revealing a dark hall. 

Well…

In for a penny, right?

Alastor walks down the hall. The hallways was warmer than the rest of Vox’s apartment. The walls are made of power cords and flickering screens that displayed searching eyes. The eyes give him pause. If they saw him would they wake Vox? Alastor shuts off his cane, melding into the darkness and using them to slide the rest of the way down the hall.

Better safe than sorry. 

The hall seems to go on forever but there is an end to it. A single door unmarked and unimpressive sits at the very end. Alastor solidifies and twists the knob. He re-summons his cane and peers inside.

Well, he found the bathroom. It’s the warmest area in Vox’s apartment with a shower stall in one corner of the room and a large pool-sized tub built directly into the floor. Alastor makes his way to the tub and kneels at the edge and peers into the dark, deep water. Even with his cane, the water goes too deep to see the bottom of the tub. More of Vox’s magic, apparently. What could he possibly—

Vark breaks the surface of the water.

Alastor laughs. “I was wondering where you got to!” he reaches out to pet the demon shark. “I imagine this pool must be a recent addition. I’m glad.”

Vark snuffles as he climbs out of the pool. He looks at the deer demon.

Alastor’s brow furrows as he looks back. Why was Vark staring at him like that?

The demon shark shakes the excess water off his body, splattering the Radio Demon. 

Alastor gets to his feet and sighs. “Well,” he says. He sighs again because what else is there to do? “Come along, Vark. Would you like to go out?”

Vark hops and bounces at the word “out,” his clawed feet scratching against the dark tile of the bathroom floor. The sharkdog squirms around the open door and down the hall. The eyes on the screens turn simultaneously to focus on the loping form of the shark and the entrance on the other side of the hall opens automatically.

Ah! Clever.

Vark wastes no time bounding into Vox’s workspace, pausing here and there to sniff things before scratching on the front door. It’s amazing how the shark’s paws didn’t get caught on the wires and cables covering the floors. Alastor has to use his cane to push Vark away from the door so he can actually get close enough to open it. Once he does so, Vark’s tail sweeps his legs as the shark bursts through and runs down the hall. 

Alastor huffs. He tries his best to smooth down his clothes in a futile attempt to maintain his dignity, to pretend he isn’t standing there in dampened clothes after being knocked on his ass by an over-excited animal. 

It was probably best to get back to his room. He did need a fresh set of clothes…and probably a shower.

A quick teleport later, Alastor goes to his room for clean clothes. He’s digging around in his chest of drawers when he hears a quiet, “Alastor? That you?”

“It is,” he replies without turning around. “How are you feeling?”

“Irritated as fuck.”

Alastor snorts with barely contained laughter. “And,” he presses.

He hears Vox sigh. “And rested,” the TV Demon mutters in a begrudging tone. “Thanks,” he adds, softly. “Are you going to untie me?”

“That depends. Are you going to try to return to work?”

“Alastor, I need to work. I have stuff that needs to get done!”

The deer demon turns around. “And I understand that,” he says, “But what I don’t understand is how you can just not take care of yourself like that.”

Vox looks offended. “I take care of myself!”

“Bullshit,” Alastor says. “You spent an entire week being tortured to the point of exhaustion and instead of resting when you got here, you attempted to work! If you hadn’t passed out, I would have probably found you hooked up again, wouldn’t I?”

Vox doesn’t reply. 

Alastor makes his way to Vox’s side. “Vox, look at me.”

The TV Demon does so. He frowns. “Why do you look wet?”

The Radio Demon blushes. “I found your bathroom and Vark’s pool area.”

“Aw man. I’m sorry. Did he do that full body shake thing?”

“Yes. Yes, he did. No matter! It’s nothing a quick shower and change of clothes can’t fix!”

Vox nods. “So, are you going to untie me first or…”

Alastor walks briskly to the door. “Ha! No! I wouldn’t deny you the chance to catch a few more minutes of slumber.”

“Goddamn it, Alastor!”

Despite his protest, when Alastor returns from his quick shower and getting dressed, he finds that Vox has once again dozed off. 

Alastor takes a seat in his chair and just watches the other Overlord. While he finds Vox’s work ethic to be admirable, it’s obvious that he’s taking on too much. Surely a demon of Vox’s importance should be able to delegate some tasks.

Alastor muses over this as he ties his tie. Didn’t Vox say something about a script for the commercial? Perhaps he could assist with that. Now, he’s no Faulkner, but Alastor surmises he can piece together a script that discusses the finer points of Charlie’s hotel. It couldn’t be that hard. And on the off chance it did prove difficult, he could simply ask Vox for help. 

“Alastor? Alastor, don’t leave me tied to the bed.”

Alastor sighs. The Overlord sounds so pitiful. “Very well,” he says. “I suppose you had enough sleep at the moment.” He snaps his fingers.

Vox sighs as he sits up. The TV Demon stretches and yawns. “Okay, I will admit that despite your methods that was some decent sleep.” Vox rubs a hand over his face. “Back to the grindstone.”

“About that…” Alastor takes a seat next to Vox. “Would you like any help? I realize that you’ve got so much on your plate as is and I know that you like to distract yourself with work but…” the deer demon trails off. 

Vox considers it. “I actually have personal assistants. Fuck, I haven’t called them in days. They’ve probably popped a vein.” He sighs. “Not looking forward to that call.”

Alastor sighs. “Vox,” he says quietly. “You have so many people wanting to help you and yet you keep trying to go it alone.” He takes Vox’s hand. “Well, no more of that. You’ve forced my hand! You either seem incapable or unwilling to take care of yourself so I’m going to have to keep my eye on you.” He puts an arm around the TV Demon who looks confused. “I’m afraid that means that you’ll have to split your time between that tower of yours and the hotel.”

“Alastor…”

“No, no! Hear me out.” He grins. “Think of it as a chance to expand!”

“Expand?”

Alastor nods. “You need a change of scenery every once in a while,” he says. He puts his head on Vox’s shoulder. He feels the TV Demon tense and files that information away for later. “And if I’m being honest, it would give me a chance to spend more time with you. I guess you can say that I have ulterior motives, but who amongst us can say they don’t?”

Vox goes quiet. “I like spending time with you too,” he mutters. “God help me.”

Alastor laughs. “I’m afraid He doesn’t get a say. Not down here. So, what do you say?”

Vox mulls it over. “Look, I was already planning to spend time here. I do have to film the commercial. You don’t need to –” he stops, “Okay, fine. I suppose, I could use some time away from the tower every now and then, especially with Tino being a complete asshole stalker. Yeah. Plus, if it’s work stuff people can’t accuse me of ‘hiding’ so it’s a win-win. Yeah, okay. Yeah.” The Media Overlord brightens but then he looks askance at Alastor. “So, am I supposed to pay for my room now or…”

“I think Charlie would stab me if I even suggested such a thing,” Alastor responds. He wags a finger. “But if you’re going to stay here the only requirement we ask of you is that you get an actual bed. Though you’ve convinced yourself otherwise, a reclining chair is not a suitable place for sleeping.” 

Vox rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Fine,” he relents. “I’ll get a fucking bed. Happy?”

Alastor’s smile stretches a bit wider. “Over the moon,” he replies. “I believe this will be the start of a beautiful working relationship, Vox!”

Vox snorts but the deer demon can see a hint of a smile. Alastor stands and offers a hand to Vox. “Shall we go downstairs and tell everyone else the good news?”

“I mean, if you want. I don’t see how this is announcement worthy news, but whatever floats your boat.”

“You underestimate how excitable the others are,” Alastor says. 

The others are ecstatic at the idea of Vox splitting his time between his tower and Hazbin. Well, Niffty and Charlie are ecstatic. Alastor sees them run off to the corner, bend their heads over a table and begin scribbling over a paper. 

Alastor’s not sure what that’s about. 

Vaggie comes to stand in front of Vox. She puts her hands on her hips and stares narrow-eyed at the Overlord.

Vox stares back. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, you can,” Vaggie shoots back. “You can help by taking out your phone and ordering a fucking bed!”

Alastor has to stifle a laugh at how Vox winces. “Does everyone know,” he whines.

“Afraid so.”

Vox sighs. He takes out his cell phone and starts scrolling. “Look, I’m ordering a bed now. See? So you can chill.”

Vaggie glances at Alastor. The Radio Demon leans over and looks at Vox’s phone. He gives the moth demoness a slight nod after he confirms that Vox is indeed on a furniture website. Vox gives them both annoyed looks and mutters under his breath about “not believing he has to deal with this.”

His ornery behavior gets a rare non-Charlie related smile from Vaggie. She puts a hand on his arm. “We do it because we care.”

Vox rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. He sounds irritated but Alastor sees a smile. “Well, weirdoes a bed’s been selected and ordered.”

“Uh-huh,” Vaggie says. “And when it’s going to arrive?”

“I dunno? I picked express but it’s still a fucking bed.”

“So where are you going to sleep until it arrives?”

“Well, when I’m at my tower I can sleep in my bedroom. I have an actual bed. When I’m here, I guess I can bunk with Alastor if—Jesus fuck!” Vox screams after he happens to glance down and notices Niffty standing directly beside him. 

“Do you and Mr. Alastor share his bed?”

Alastor’s eye twitches. “Niffty,” he says. He picks up his thrall. “How about we don’t ask prying questions, hmm?”

The deer demon sees the way the maid’s eye glitters that he’s made a mistake. 

“So you do share a bed,” Niffty’s face splits into a grin. “Interesting. Charlie!” Niffty waves at the princess. “They sleep in the same bed!”

“Omigosh, that's so romantic!”

“No!” Alastor shouts. “No it’s not! It’s for platonic comfort alone!”

Niffty presses her hands against her cheeks. “You comfort each other,” she squeals. “Oh wow!”

“Did you not hear the part about ‘platonic’ or are you just ignoring it?”

Niffty shakes like a rain-soaked Chihuahua, she’s so excited. “I can’t believe this! This is so amazing!”

Alastor sighs and let’s Niffty drop. She lands on her feet and runs from the room. The deer demon suspects there will be yet another smut story produced soon enough. He goes over to the couch and plops down.  Vox sits next to him. “How soon do you think we can expect Niffty’s next great work?”

“No idea. I think her last story was about me doing errands for you.”

Vox blinks. “She did a story about that?”

Alastor nods. “She finds inspiration in all.” He narrows his eyes at Husk after noticing the cat demon was grinning at him. “I notice she hasn’t written anything about you and Angel in a while.”

Husk smirks. “We’re too open with our relationship. Not enough fuel for her freaky little mind. She still writes about us, but it’s mostly slice-of-life stuff.”

Alastor manifests a bottle of expensive vodka and holds it up for Husk to see. As he anticipated, the cat demon’s eyes go round. Alastor opens a portal and drops the bottle inside. He cherishes Husk’s wail of anguish as he turns to Vox and says, “Well, I believe we need to grab Charlie and Vaggie to start discussing the commercial. No time like the present. Husker, stop weeping like that, it’s most unbecoming.”

“I wasn’t hiding from you. You’re literally my next stop after we find a hotel.”

Fizz looks away from the passing scenery to look over at Ozzie. The demon Prince’s phone rang the second they got into the limo. Lucifer had gotten wind of his brother entering the Pride Ring and was giving Asmodeus an earful.

The Embodiment of Lust looks annoyed as he listens to the King of Hell. “I’m not going behind your back! Charlie invited me. Ye – you know what? I don’t appreciate you using your ‘royal voice’ when you’re talking to me like—the profanity isn’t necessary, Lucifer,” Ozzie snaps. He rubs his temple. “I came here because your daughter asked me to. I don’t have ulterior motives. I just wanted to see my goddamned niece. Oh, fuck you. Maybe if you actually talked to her! No, you shut up! Stop cutting me off! Why is Charlie unable to call the other rings? You are un-fucking-believable! No, fuck you! Fuck you!”

Fizz jumps when Asmodeus lets out a bestial roar. “That vertically challenged goblin calls me then has the audacity to hang up in my face?!” Flames flicker from the demon prince’s mouth and Fizz presses himself against his seat.

“Whoa there, Ozzie,” Fizz soothes. “Calm down.” He moves over to the larger demon and climbs into his lap. His contact seems to pacify Asmodeus who reaches down to rub a finger along the Imp’s face. Fizz purrs before remembering he’s supposed to be making Ozzie feel better. He scales the demon’s chest and plants small kisses on each of Ozzie’s faces. “You know what would make you feel better? Me sucking your dick.”

Asmodeus laughs. “I appreciate the sentiment, but despite what you may believe a blowjob isn’t the answer to all of life’s problems.”

“Agree to disagree.”

Ozzie snorts. He picks Fizz up and holds him on the crook of his arm. Fizz settles in like its his personal throne. “So,” Fizzarolli says. He leans his head back to look up at Asmodeus. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Ugh, not really.” Ozzie grimaces. “The tiny terror was just getting on my case about coming into Pride unannounced. Like he pays me the same courtesy.”

“Yeah, well. You know what they say about gooses and ganders,” the Imp replies. He shimmies up Ozzie’s arms and lounges around his shoulders. 

“I think the correct plural form is ‘geese’, Fizz.”

Fizzarolli blows a raspberry and rolls his eyes. He plays with Ozzie’s mane. “So, are we staying long? Or did His Highness demand we leave?”

Asmodeus scowls. “He didn’t give us a timetable and I’m not asking for one. I’m here to see Charlie and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You’re also here to help her friend.” Fizzarolli reminds him. He cards his fingers through Ozzie’s mane and pets his ram’s head. “Maybe you should play nice with your brother especially since you gotta ask about borrowing one of his sinners?”

Asmodeus throws back his heads and groans. “I know you’re right,” he whines. “But it just sucks!”

Fizz laughs. “Suck it up, buttercup,” he says and gives Ozzie a kiss. “Now let’s find a hotel so we can do unspeakable things in it that the cleaning staff will use to horrify future employees for years to come.”

Vox finishes a text and looks up at an expectant Charlie. “Okay, so my crew can get here by the end of next week. That should give us enough time to drum up interest at that party at the end of the week and work on a script of talking points. Plus, I got you a sit down with Killjoy and Trench tomorrow.”

Charlie visibly wilts. “Oh, I dunno. I don’t think that’s really necessary…”

“Charlie – can I call you Charlie? Charlie, look at me. You show any fear in front of Killjoy and she’ll tear out your throat and shit down it.” Vox sits back in his chair. “She feeds off fear and delights in being cruel to others. You gotta put on your game face.”

Charlie takes a deep breath and nods. “Game face! Got it!” She strokes her chin then says, “But I was just thinking…what if I—”

Vox gives her a flat look. “Please tell me you aren’t about to suggest singing.”

The princess lets out a high and awkward laugh. “Of course not,” she sputters. “Because that would be ridiculous! Especially given what happened last time.” Charlie laughs again before picking up a blank sheet of paper and pretending to read it. 

Vox sighs and looks at Alastor. The Radio Demon hasn’t offered any input despite being the hotel’s sponsor. “Any thoughts?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of those,” Alastor chirps. “Though nothing about the subject at hand.”

The TV Demon fights the urge to smile. “Big help,” he teases. “Well, may you’ll have an opinion about Friday’s party. Bigwigs are getting together to hobnob and whatnot. It’s going to be a disgusting display of wealth and privilege under one roof.”

Alastor whistles. “I see. Deep pockets means potential sponsors to foot our bills.”

Vox nods. “You’ll need to impress,” he tells them, focusing especially on Charlie. “Word about your hotel has spread, but no offense you’re kind of a joke.” Vox begins ticking off points on his fingers. “You only got one sponsor. One client. No results. No legitimacy. And all the press surrounding your hotel has been shit.”

Charlie looks like she wants to crawl under a rock. “Is there a ‘but’ coming or…”

“But,” Vox says. “If we impress the right people or get them interested we can keep your little project afloat. Maybe we can even attract additional clients. Everybody knows somebody who’s been killed in a Cleansing. It won’t be easy, but tug at some heart strings. A lot of Hellborn see Sinners as charity cases, use that to your favor.”

Charlie looks at Vaggie. The moth demoness nods. “Okay,” Charlie says. “I really think this could work. We still got a few days before that party. We need to get ready! Ooh! This is so exciting!” Charlie takes Vaggie by the hand and leads her out of the room. Alastor can hear her excitedly making plans.

Vox collapses back in his seat. “I don’t know how she can be so energetic.”

“It comes from her untapped wellspring of optimism,” Alastor tells him. “That or she saps it away from the rests of us.”

“Probably a little bit of both,” Vox chuckles. He gets to his feet and stretches. “Well, I guess I can take a break and go do some actual work.”

“Only you would consider doing a different type of work to be a break.”

Vox shrugs. He notices the deer demon sizing him up and looks nervous. “What?”

“I was just thinking…no, nevermind.”

“Well, color me curious. You can’t just leave me hanging.”

“Well, I was thinking…would you like to guest star on my next show?”

Vox’s jaw dropped. “You mean it?” He tries to hide the excitement in his voice and fails. “You don’t really do guest stars.”

“True, but I feel like there’s a first time for everything,” Alastor says. “Plus, this way I can be sure you’re actually listening and not treating me as background noise.”

“Okay, rude. I’ve never treated your show as background anything,” Vox tells him. He coughs and says, “What I mean is, I always give your show my full attention.”

Alastor feels that damnable warmth in his chest return when Vox tells him that. He takes off his monocle and cleans it. “Yes, well,” he says but can’t seem to complete the thought. “I’ll have to let you know the date of my next show.”

Vox grins. “I look forward to it.”

The deer demon’s cheeks flush. “I suppose you have more emails to send. Or did you send them all?”

“Oh, not even close,” the TV Demon rolls his eyes. He suddenly reaches for Alastor and hooks his arm. “But you know what? Fuck ’em. I’ve sent the bulk of my apology emails. The rest of them can deal. I’ve had a shitty week. How about we go do something?”

Alastor’s heart soars at the idea. “I think that’s a grand idea,” he replies. 

They walk from the room, no destination in mind but not caring as long as they are together.

Chapter Text

In the end, they decide to go for a stroll. It’s not the most exciting thing to do, but Vox points out that he could use a little less excitement lately. It’s a nice enough day as far as days in Hell go. The sun shines and the humidity is tolerable. It’s early enough in the evening that the two stop at a bistro for lunch. The waiter, a gangly Hellborn demon, seems nervous to see both the Radio Demon and the Media Demon seated at his table, and Alastor chuckles when he sees the poor demon try and fail to convince his coworkers to change tables. With the severity of a man facing down the gallows, he takes their order. When he’s gone, Alastor looks at Vox and says, “I can assure you that this will be the most perfect service you've ever received.”

Vox grins. “Oh really,” he drawls. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, you know what they say, ‘fear is a powerful motivator’ and I,” Alastor drops his voice to a throaty growl, “am most excellent at motivating others.” He winks at Vox. “Oh look, our drinks are here! What incredible speed!”

Alastor doesn’t spend the entire time instilling fear into the poor waitstaff. He’s not a bully. He and Vox do a little conversing. The deer demon found that he enjoyed the moments with the TV-headed demon.

“Our shadows are gone.”

Alastor sighs. He looks down at his feet and confirms that both his and Vox’s shadows have indeed gone off somewhere. “Well, hopefully they aren’t getting into too much trouble.” Even as he says it Alastor doubts that it’s true. Knowing his shadow, it’s probably more realistic to hope that they aren’t being caught on tape again.

Their meal comes and it’s delightful. Vox gets a Caprese pasta salad and Alastor gets an appetizer of prosciutto wrapped mozzarella.

The waiter stands by their table, sweating profusely as he waits for them to take a bite of their meals so they can express either their pleasure or displeasure.

Alastor milks it. He makes a big show of picking up one of the skewers. He sniffs it, holds it to his eye and dramatically examines it for faults before putting it in his mouth. He rolls it around in his mouth, emitting loud hmm’s. The entire time, Vox’s shoulders shake as the TV Demon can barely contain his mirth.

Alastor swallows and levels a hooded gaze at the waiter. He folds his hands and says, “Delicious. You may go.”

The waiter bolts from the spot and back to the safety of the kitchen.

Vox bursts out laughing. “Alastor, you almost made the poor guy wet himself!”

Alastor waves a hand in dismissal. “Well, on the bright side he’ll have a story to tell his friends. He can say, ‘I met the Radio Demon and survived’ not many demons can say that.”

Vox gives him a half smile as he leans forward. “I can say that.”

Alastor lets out a low chuckle. He leans forward as well and says, “Well, that’s not much of a surprise. I like you.”

“Well, you didn’t at first.”

“True, but in my defense, I didn’t know you.” Alastor’s smile softens. “I knew the you that you presented to me. A pompous, braggart seemingly torn between an obsession of wanting to outdo me or wanting to be acknowledged by me.”

“Ouch.”

“I know you better now,” Alastor continues. His hand reaches across the table and takes hold of Vox’s, seemingly on its own accord. “You’re a complicated demon, Vox. You’re prideful but also prone to self-destruction. You attempt to put up walls, but also give others more chances than they deserve. You confuse me, Vox but I find myself…” He looks down and finally notices that they’re holding hands. Alastor pulls away and picks up his glass. He drinks deeply from it both to gather his thoughts and because his throat is suddenly parched.

Their waiter jogs over to their table. There’s a manic look in his eyes and blood splattered over the front of his uniform.

“Photographers tried to get in,” he says. “I killed them so they wouldn’t bother you.”

Alastor applauds. “Vox, do you see this? Now, this is excellent customer service. Bravo, friend! Bravo!” When they leave, Alastor makes sure to leave a glowing review with the manager and a sizeable tip.

The waiter smiles, happy to receive the compliments. His smile flees from his face when Alastor makes the passing comment that he’ll have to come back to this particular bistro. He quits later that night, announcing that he’s returning to the Wrath Ring after deciding that dealing with fire twisters is less stressful than waiting a table for the Radio Demon.

Alastor is, of course, unaware of this. He and Vox continue their walk through the city. The deer demon notices that after their conversation, the other Overlord has fallen into silence. Alastor wonders if he offended Vox in some manner and thinks of the best way to fix it.

         The pocket of Vox’s coat rings. He takes out his phone and looks at the ID. He sighs and presses a button. Alastor looks at him, silently asking what that was about. Vox grimaces. “Remember those personal assistants I mentioned earlier? That was one of them. I’ll call her later.”

         “What if it’s important?”

         “Oh, trust me, if it was super important those two would have broken down the hotel’s door by now.” Vox smiles, fondly. “This is just them trying to check on me. You’ll meet them when we set up for the commercial.” He sighs when the phone rings again. “Oh, my fucking God.”

         “Perhaps, I’ll meet them earlier if you keep ignoring their calls.”

         “No, no. I—hang on,” Vox presses the button. “I’ve dealt with this bullshit before. I just need to—” the phone starts ringing again. “Wait them out. Fuck.” He turns off his phone. “Problem solved.”

         Alastor shakes his head. “If you say so.”

         “I do say.” Vox thinks. He brightens. “You know what we need to do?” He pokes Alastor in the chest. “You promised to let me prove my Lindy Hop skills. We’re going to the Dance Hall.”

         “A dance hall?”

         Vox shakes his head. “No, the Dance Hall. It’s an electro swing club. Believe it or not, but swing music is back in vogue in the Living World. Stuff from the 20s is popular again up there.”

         “Really?” Alastor says. That was news to him, although to be fair, most Sinner demons didn’t keep tabs on what went on in the Living World. What was the point? “Well, isn’t that something? Not that I blame them. After all, the 1920s were a wonderful time. Well, for the most part. We did have our issues, but here’s hoping that eugenics, white supremacy, and nationalism aren’t the aspects of the 20s making a return.”

         Vox goes quiet. “You know I once asked that same thing to a Sinner demon who had been in Hell for about a week.”

         “Really? What did they say?”

         “She didn’t. She just got real quiet and said she had to go do something. Then she walked off and I got distracted.” Vox shrugs.

         Alastor scratches his chin. “Oh well,” he says. “Tell me more about this Dance Hall. I’ve never heard of it and I feel like I would have heard about a club that plays swing music.”

         “Electro swing,” Vox corrects. He hooks his arm with Alastor’s. “You’re going to love it. I just hope you’re still able to cut a rug, Old Man.”

         “Better than you,” Alastor fires back.

         Vox grins. “We’ll see,” he laughs. “We’ll see.”

         Alastor and Vox return to the hotel, leaning on one another for support and roaring with laughter.

         The Dance Hall was marvelous with amazing electronic renditions of classic swing music from Alastor’s heyday and cheap booze in their tribute to a speakeasy. The Dance Hall boasted that they made the best apple pie moonshine and both Overlords took it upon themselves to verify that claim.

         They were very drunk.

         “Good evening,” Alastor slurs. He waves to Husk and Angel. The two demons are posted as usual at the bar. “How are you both?”

         “Alastor, are you drunk?” Angel Dust asks.

         Alastor and Vox snicker. “You are astute, my dear arachnid.” Alastor wobbles before he catches himself. “Vox and I partook in some exquisite moonshine.”

         “Seven cups,” Vox yells. He grins. “They were this big.” He holds up his hand.

         “They were,” Alastor confirms. “But they were so inexpensive! How could we not?”

         Husk takes out a pen and paper. “Where was this?”

         Alastor puts a finger to his lips. “Shh! We can’t tell you! You might tell Husk! I don’t want him to know because he gets all growly and angry and it makes me laugh. Haaaaaa!” The deer demon blinks. “Oh, hey Husker!”

         “This is amazing,” Angel Dust whispers. He presses his hands to both cheeks. “I really wish you could be videotaped.”

         “I’m hot,” Vox announces unprompted. He runs a hand down his face. “Whzzit so hawt? I’mma! I’mma fzz dat.” He begins to undress.

         “What are you doing?” Husk screams. He turns and yells for Vaggie before running to stop the TV Demon who decided to start with his pants. “Angel, help me!”

         “Are you sure you guys just had moonshine,” Angel Dust asks as he gets up from his seat.

         Alastor shoves Husk away from Vox. He puts his arms protectively around the TV Demon. “We also had gin,” the deer demon tells him.

         “And vodka,” Vox pipes up.

         “And also there were these little glasses called shoots that were being passed around.” Alastor’s brow furrows. “Shoots? Shits?”

         Vox nuzzles Alastor’s neck. “Shots,” he says. He giggles. “You said shits,” he whispers and giggles again which makes Alastor giggle.

         Vaggie appears with Charlie close behind. She takes one look at the two Overlord and covers her face with her hands. “What the fuck?”

         “Vaggie!” Alastor waves. “Vaggie! Hey, Vaggie! Vaggie! Vox and I went to a dance place and we had so much fun!”

         “So much fun,” Vox agrees. His eyelids are starting to sag.

         “We did the Lindy Hop! I had to teach Vox how to Charleston cuz he’s too young.” Alastor gives the TV headed demon a pat on the head. “Then we got drinks!”

         Vox snaps awake. “Drinks? Where?”

         “No more drinks for you,” Vaggie snaps. “You two are a mess! Angel? Husk? Help me get these two to bed.”

         Alastor growls and waves her away, almost dropping Vox who leans fully on the Radio Demon. “We don’t need help! We can go up the stairs!”

         “Alastor, I’m not even sure how you two made it home,” Charlie says.

         Alastor waves a hand. “I drove!”

         “Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” Vaggie cries as she runs for the front door.

         Charlie looks panicked. “Alastor? Alastor,” the princess attempts to get the Overlord’s attention as he and Vox start sinking to the floor. “Where did you get a car?”

         “I’unno,” Alastor answers with a shrug.

         “We found it,” Vox offers. He rests his head on the Radio Demon’s shoulder. “It was full of people, but we got rid ’em.” He grimaces. “They were so loud!”

         “So loud,” Alastor nods. “They screamed so much, but then I pushed them out of the car.”

         “Oh, good Lord,” Charlie whispers. She begins to hyperventilate.

         Vaggie comes back inside. “Well,” she says, “The good news is that the car doesn’t appear to have blood on it, so that means they didn’t hit any pedestrians. The bad news is not only did these two chucklefucks steal a car, but they also drove it into our gate, and they kidnapped someone.” She glares at the two Overlords. “You had someone in the backseat, and you didn’t notice.”

         “That’s Gerald,” Alastor says helpfully. “We let him stay because he wasn’t screaming.”

         “He cried though,” Vox points out, “But it wasn’t loud so that was okay.”

         “First, his name isn’t Gerald. It’s Marz.” Vaggie pinches the bridge of her nose. “I can’t deal with this.” She turns to Husk and Angel. “Take them upstairs and put them to bed. And you two,” she points at Vox and Alastor. The Radio and TV demons stare blearily at her. “Sleep it off!”

         Vox raises his hand. Vaggie sighs and against her better judgements asks, “Yes, Vox?”

         “Can I take off my pants? Cuz it’s hoooooot.”

         Vaggie can feel her will to live slipping away the more she has to deal with this. “Sure, Vox. Just wait until you’re back in Alastor’s room first.”

         Vox gives her a thumbs up and promptly passes out. Alastor points at the TV Demon and utters a single, “Ha” before he too passes out.

         “Come on, Charlie,” Vaggie sighs. “Let’s go talk to Marz and try to convince him not to press charges. We both know that Vox and Alastor would eat him alive if he tried. Literally, in Alastor’s case.”

         While Charlie and Vaggie go and handle that, Husk and Angel Dust are left with the not so glamourous task of hauling two unconscious Overlords up a spiraling staircase.

         “Fuck…stairs!” Angel Dust wheezes. “Why did Smiles make so many?! I swear, this many stairs shouldn’t even fit in the building!”

         “Why does Alastor do anything?” Husk pants. The winged cat’s chest feels like it’s about to burst. “To be an asshole.”

         “Where are their shadows? Can’t they do this?”

         “I have no idea where they are and not knowing is giving me unbelievable anxiety,” Husk shudders. The idea of any form of the Radio Demon running around unsupervised scared the shit out of Husk. One Alastor was chaotic enough. They didn’t need his spectral copy doing who-knows-what. “I’m sure we’ll find out later.”

         They finally make it to the top of the stairs and hoarsely cheer. Husk twists the doorknob.

         “Fuck. It’s locked. Do you have a key?”

         Angel Dust stares at his boyfriend. “Why would I have a key to Alastor’s room?”

         Husk’s ears flatten. “I was just asking!”

         They look down at the deer demon resting at Husk’s feet.

         “Well,” Angel Dust swallows. “Go on.”

         Husk’s eyes go as wide as saucers. “Excuse me?”

         “Look, he’s bound to be less mad if it’s you digging around in his pockets. So,” Angel waves his hand. “Hop to it.”

         The winged cat demon’s expression says he’d rather do anything else, but he kneels so he can pat down Alastor.

         Or at least that had been the plan.  

         The second Husk’s paw comes in contact with Alastor’s chest, a shadow tentacle shoots from the floor and wraps around the cat’s throat, yanking him off his feet and into the air.

         Husk screams as he’s strangled.

Angel Dust screams because Husk is being strangled.

         The tentacle shakes Husk for a few seconds, gives his throat another warning squeeze before tossing him to the floor.

         Both Alastor and Vox sleep peacefully unaware of what’s happening.

         “What’s going on?”

         Angel Dust looks around and discovers Niffty coming up the stairs. She points at Alastor and Vox. “Oh, my stars! What happened to them?”

         “They’re drunk,” Angel snaps. He kneels down to soothe his coughing and wheezing boyfriend. “It’s okay, Husky. You’re okay.” He kisses the cat’s forehead. “Do you have a key to Alastor’s room? We’re supposed to put them to bed, but apparently Alastor boobytrapped himself.”

         Niffty fishes into the pocket of her skirt and pulls out a key. She hops up and unlocks the door. “I can’t believe Mr. Alastor got drunk so early in the evening.” She sounds a bit disapproving.

         “Niffty, it’s Hell,” Husk points out. “Bars never close.”

         “Oh, yeah…”

         Niffty watches as the two demons carry Vox and Alastor inside. She follows them as they move to Alastor’s bedroom. Angel Dust lowers Vox into the bed and Alastor gets put beside him by Husk. Angel starts removing their shoes and puts them on the floor. He takes great care to tuck them under the covers.

         Niffty suddenly smiles. “Drunken confessions,” she whispers. She hops over to Alastor and stretches until she reaches his ear. “How does Vox make you feel?”

         Alastor’s ear twitches once, but he remains asleep. Niffty pouts. “Ah, phooey. You’re no fun.” She sighs.

         Angel Dust turns to Husk. “Wanna go grab your hangover kit?”

         Husk scowls. “I ain’t exactly delighted to share my goods with Al, but I’m also terrified to find out how he reacts to being hungover…” he thinks about it. “Yeah sure. Don’t think we’ll get him to drink Gatorade, but I’ll grab him some bottles of water. Niffty, you’re going to need to make these two a greasy breakfast in the morning. I’m talking bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches because I don’t want Alastor around anything sharp.”

         Niffty salutes. “On it!”

         Husk returns later, holding a small bag of headache medications, two bottles of Gatorade and two water bottles. He sets the bag on Alastor’s beside table. He looks at the sleeping Overlords.

         Alastor sleeps sprawled on his back and Vox sleeps on his side, with his arm around the deer demon’s waist.

         Husk sighs. “Well, that’s my good deed for the day. Sleep tight, you two.”

         “Alastor?”

         The deer demon snorts awake. He blinks blearily up at the ceiling. “Hmm?” He feels Vox’s arm around his waist. The weight of it and knowing that Vox sleeps beside him makes Alastor feel warm. Content. Happy.

         “I had fun,” Vox’s words are slurred with drink and sleep. He laughs softly. “Told you I could Lindy Hop like a champ.”

         “You certainly impressed me,” Alastor says. His eyes feel heavy. Sleep sounded wonderful right about now.

         “Alastor, I’m scared.”

         The Radio Demon’s eyes shoot open. Even in the drunken haze of his brain, “Vox” and “afraid” makes something primal claw its way to the forefront. It’s makes him want to find the source of Vox’s fear and tear it apart. “Who are you afraid of?”

         “Myself.”

         Alastor blinks, confused. Was he being metaphorical or was there some sort of Vox clone running around or oh no! His shadow must have betrayed him. Alastor knew this would happen! Why did he let his doppelganger bring that thing to life?

         “I’m afraid I’m going to ruin things with you,” Vox continues, unaware of the ludicrous scenario running in the deer demon’s head. “You’re so great and I want things to stay great.”

         “You’re great,” Alastor tells Vox.

         “Thanks.” Vox goes quiet.

         Alastor begins to drift off to sleep once more.

         “I think I’m in love with you.”

         The words are whispered, but Alastor’s ears catch them.

The Radio Demon stirs once more. “You’re in love…with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Alastor thinks he should say something. That he should respond, but he finds it difficult to think. Vox falls quiet again and he can tell from his even breathing that the TV Demon has fallen asleep. The Radio Demon closes his eyes and joins him.

Fuck being alive. Being alive was a curse.

Alastor sits up and covers his face with his hands. Beside him, Vox awakens with a moaned curse. He turns his face toward the wall and pulls the blanket over his head.

“Why am I alive,” Vox groans. He sits up and blinks at Alastor.

The two Overlords stare at one another, trying to piece together last night’s events.

“What happened?” Vox asks.

“I remember you taking me to the Dance Hall,” Alastor says carefully. “They played a stunning rendition of ‘Mama, I Wanna Make Rhythm’, you grabbed me and took me to the dance floor.” Alastor smiles at the memory. The younger demons had been amazed to see a true Lindy Hop performed in person. Vox hadn’t lied when he said he could do it. The TV Demon had kept pace with Alastor the entire time.

“I remember that,” Vox says. “Then I remember drinks. So many drinks.” He glances at Alastor. “Did we steal a car?”

Alastor shrugs. That sounded like something he would do. “I’m sure it’s fine. I’m an excellent parker!”

Vox nods. He looks around. “Well, we made it back to the hotel. That’s something.” He stops. Vox turns to look at Alastor. Alastor turns to look at him.

The two of them stare at one another.

There’s… something .

Something important was done or said last night.

Something…

What was it?

Both Overlords shake their heads, unable to dredge up the seemingly important thing that happened.

Alastor looks at his table. Someone was kind enough to leave some aspirin and drinks. He takes a bottle of water and hands the bottle of whatever that green liquid is to Vox who opens it and downs it greedily. Alastor takes two aspirin and hands the bottle to Vox. “Should we go downstairs,” Vox asks. He feels around in coat and pulls out his phone. “It’s…fuck! One in the afternoon?! Fuckity fuck fuck! The interview with 666 News is in two goddamn hours!” Vox climbs over Alastor. He falls flat on the floor and curses. He scrambles to his feet. “Alastor, we gotta go! We gotta get ready!”

Alastor is loath to get out of the bed. He drags his hand down his face. He summons Niffty. The maid blinks at him. “Morning, Alastor!” when Vox and Alastor wince, she puts a hand over mouth. “Sorry,” she whispers. “How can I help?”

“Niffty, please have two cups of coffee prepared when we get downstairs.” Alastor tells her. “And food of some kind.”

“I already have the ingredients for your bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches already waiting!”

Alastor blinks. “That’s…well, I appreciate the initiative,” he tells her.

When the maid is gone, Alastor climbs out of bed. “Your shoes,” he calls to Vox before the TV Demon gets too far.

“Leave ’em! I got more downstairs! Wait. No, I don’t. This isn’t my tower.” Vox runs back and grabs his shoes. “I need to go get a shower and brush my teeth.” He stumbles from the room and Alastor hears the door shut with a bang.

A shower sounded like just the ticket. Alastor makes his way to his bathroom and leans against the cool tile wall for a moment. He starts to climb into the shower but stops when he realizes he’s still fully dressed.

Today was going to be a long, unbearable day.

         Husk and Niffty remain at the hotel while Angel Dust, Vaggie, Charlie, Vox and Alastor pile into the limo. The entire car ride Vaggie and surprisingly Charlie, stare at the two Overlords with a look that channels the spirits of a thousand disapproving mothers.

         “At least you managed to get dressed,” Vaggie sighs. “And you even look presentable

         “Why am I here?” Alastor mumbles. “You could have just let me stay home.”

         “You’re the hotel’s sponsor,” Vox grumbles. He has his head tilted back and his eyes closed. “You gotta make an appearance.”

         “I can’t even be on camera.”

         “You might get fielded questions,” Vox says. “They can grab a soundbite.”

         Alastor groans and rests his head against the window.

         “Hey,” Charlie says. “You can’t be feeling too bad. You still got the smile!”

         Alastor glares at her. “This,” he points at his face, “is not indicative of how I feel. I’m smiling because I’m committed to maintaining my image.” He closes his eyes and says nothing else.

         They make it to the 666 News studio on time, but barely.

         A Sinner demon with the word ‘Intern’ branded on his forehead walks up. He directs them to chairs and scuttles off. Katie Killjoy, of all people, is the one who comes to greet them.

         “Well, well, well,” she smirks. “If it isn’t Vox. Been a while since you graced 666 News with your presence.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette and looks the TV Demon up and down. “You look like shit. Are you hungover?”

         Vox gives her a weak glare. “Katie, I’ve seen you coming down off a cocaine bender so don’t give me shit.” He sits up. “Look, I’m here because I’m doing a favor for the princess.”

         Katie gives Charlie a side glance. “I remember you,” she hisses.

         Charlie almost shrinks in her seat, but then she remembers Vox’s advice. She gets to her feet and straightens her back. “Good to see you again, Ms. Killjoy.” Charlie smiles brightly and extends a hand.

         Katie looks unamused. “Look at you, growing a pair of balls.” She snorts and takes another drag. “What did I say about your hand?”

         Charlie lowers her hand.

         “Is the rest of your motely crew going to be gracing our cameras?” Katie’s eyes move from one face to another. She zeroes in on Angel Dust. “Oh wow! You got the porn star to knock the cock out of his mouth for thirty seconds. Impressive.”

         Angel Dust rolls his eyes. “Listen, sweetie. I could sit here and trade barbs with you all you want, but we both know you couldn’t afford my time. So why don’t you and your botox back the fuck up?”

         “Ok,” Charlie puts herself between Angel and Katie. “There’s no need to for this to escalate.”

         Killjoy narrows her eyes. An insect-like rattling rises from the back of her throat as she stares daggers at Angel Dust.

         Tom Trench makes the unfortunate choice to insert himself into the conversation. “Well look who it is! Vox! How are ya, buddy?”

         “Hungover and not willing to deal with you.” Vox looks around. “Where’s your intern? I need coffee or I will legit murder someone.”

         “Barry!” Katie screams. “Coffee!”

         “Vox,” Tom sidles up to the Media Overlord. “I wanted to talk to you about my idea for a new segment on the news. I call it: Tom Talks. Catchy, right?”

         “Tom, please fuck off.”

         Tom does not. In fact, he pulls up a chair. “Now, I know what you’re thinking. ‘Tom, this sounds so interesting but how will your brilliant segment stand out amongst the others?’ Well, boy howdy I can’t wait to give you all the in-depth details.”

         Katie wraps her hand around Tom’s throat and lifts the smaller anchor in the air. “Tom,” she screams in his face. “What have I told you about offering your ideas, opinions, or thoughts to people?”

         Tom wheezes. “That my thoughts and opinions are like syphilis?”

         Katie gives his neck an extra squeeze. “And?”

         “A-and nobody wants them?”

         “And nobody wants them!” Katie flings him across the room. She rubs her temple. “Am I the only goddamned professional working in this building?” She roars. Katie kicks a trashcan and sends it soaring in the air. It clonks some poor unsuspecting stooge in the head. “I’ll be in my room.” Katie announces before putting out her lit cigarette in an intern’s eye.

         After Katie’s moved a safe enough distance away, Charlie exhales and says, “She’s horrible. I feel so bad for Mr. Trench.”

         “Don’t,” Vox snorts. He keeps his eyes peeled out for the intern bringing the coffee. “Dude has a humiliation fetish. I guarantee wherever he landed, he’s sporting massive wood. Where the fuck is that coffee?”

         Charlie looks queasy. “Seriously?”

         “Yeah. Why do you think they work so well together?” Vox brightens the second he sees an intern bringing a cup his way. “Yesyesyesyesyes! I don’t even care if it’s garbage. It’s caffeinated! Gimme!”

         Katie reappears after taking time to calm down. She folds her arms and stares at Vox. “Okay, level me. What’s this interview about? Your email didn’t say, and I know it’s not about the Velvet rebuttal because you told us in no uncertain terms that we could go fuck ourselves. So,” She cranes her long neck forward. “What are we doing today? I don’t want to get on air and be blindsided.”

         The Media Overlord sips his coffee. “You’re going to go on air and talk to Princess Morningstar about her project.”

         “Oh, the fuck we are! We already gave her time for that! And she bombed which was hilarious but I don’t do repeats!”

         Vox stands. “Katie, you’re not understanding. I’m not asking. I’m telling you. You are going to sit in that chair, smile, and ask Charlie to talk about the hotel and how it’s going to help the Sinners of Pentagram city.” He swirls the contents of his cup before taking another sip. “Well, not you. Tom.”

         Katie Killjoy rears back like she’s been slapped. “Tom?!”

         “Me?” Tom pokes his head up. He jogs back over to the group. “You want me to lead the segment?”

         The TV Demon nods. “Truth be told, Katie. I need someone to fluff up Charlie’s hotel. It needs good press. It needs someone to show an interest in it and you,” he points at Katie. “Aren’t able to do that. I need someone who can realistically fake it.”

         Katie looks offended. “I can fake it,” she protests. “I’m a professional! Half my job is pretending I give a shit about some topic!”

         “That may be, but can you realistically pretend to be nice?”

         “Yes!”

         “Prove it.” Vox sets down his cup and drags Charlie in front of him. “Say something nice to the princess. And remember, it must sound genuine.”

         Katie Killjoy scoffs. “Fine,” she says. She takes a moment to smooth down her skirt and fluff her hair. “Princess Charlie, your face does not—” she stops. “I, um, give me a moment.”

         “Take your time, Katie,” Tom says in a show of support.

         Katie snaps around. “Shut the fuck up, you putrid little man!” she snarls in his face.  “You are an absolute disgrace. Your presence disgusts me and the only reason I keep you around is as a meat shield in case some freak ever decides to shoot up the place. I would crush you under my heel and not even feel bad about it!”

         Tom moans so loudly that the conversation around them dies. He grabs hold of the front of his pants and shudders. “Ooooh, Mama! Hoooo yeah! Yes, thank you! Thank yooooouuuu! Wooooooo!” He throws his arms in the air he’s won a marathon.

         “Oh Jesus Christ,” Vaggie gags.

         “Goddammit, Tom!” Vox snaps. “We didn’t consent to being a part of your weird ass kink!”

         Katie shakes her head. “Will someone bring Tom a new pair of pants?” She turns back Vox. “Anyway, let me try again.” She takes a deep breath. “Princess Charlie, you are an okay person.”

         Vox makes a face. “Was that it? Was that your – oh. Um….”

         “Oh, Ms. Killjoy,” Charlie points. “You gotta a little…um…”

         Blood dribbles down the corner of Katie Killjoy’s eye.  She wipes it away. “Ignore it! I can do better! Your hotel isn’t a complete waste of time! I think that the fact that you want to help is genuinely sweet.”

         With each vaguely nice thing she says, Katie begins to bleed from her eyes.

         “You know, it’s okay if you can’t be nice.” Angel says. The spider demon is pressed against his chair as if he’s afraid that he’ll catch whatever’s happening with Killjoy. “Sometimes the world needs someone who has the stuff to be a heinous bitch 24/7.”

         “No!” Katie says. Blood dribbles down her chin and neck. “I can fake niceness! I can do it! Charlie!”

         The Princess holds her arms over face, shielding herself. “Hey, no! Please stop. We’re cool. You’ve got nothing to prove.”

         Katie continues like she didn’t hear. “Princess Charlie! I wish you and your hotel success!”

         For a moment nothing happens…

         …then Katie Killjoy drops to her knees and starts vomiting blood.

         “Holy fuck!” Vox screams and scrambles backward. He climbs into his seat and draws his feet up.

         “Oh god! Oh god!” Charlie flails in a panic. “What do we do? What do we do?!”

         Alastor raises his head and yawns. “What’s happening? Why is Charlie screaming?”

         Vaggie turns to him in disbelief. “Have you been asleep this whole time?”

         “Yes.”

         In the end, it’s unanimously decided that Katie Killjoy should take an early lunch and that Tom Trench’s Tom Talks will have its premiere episode.

         Charlie takes a deep breath. She glances back toward where the others sit.

Vaggie gives her an encouraging smile and thumbs up.

Angel Dust has on the mask of boredom he wears when he’s trying hard not to show that he cares.

         Alastor and Vox…

         …have both fallen asleep.

         Seriously, you guys?

         Charlie steels herself. She stares at the camera and puts on her best smile. “Good evening. I’m,” Charlie stops. She sighs. “You know who I am. I’m your princess. Don’t worry,” she smiles, “I promise this time there will be no singing.” Charlie sobers. “Look, I know that for some of you, trying to wrap your heads around the concept of the Hazbin Hotel and its goal seems impossible. A chance to change the afterlife you were given? It does seem farfetched. I don’t care. I don’t care how ridiculous it sounds. I care about you. You are my people. The hotel is new. It’s different. And – and I don’t know if it will even work.” Charlie looks down at her hands before fixing a steely gaze at the camera. “Here’s what I do know. More and more Sinners arrive in Pride every day. We are losing space. That’s a fact. Heaven will not stop sending extermination squads unless we find a solution to this issue. Every demon in Pride has either lost or knows someone who has lost someone to the death squads. If you’re watching this then that means you survived but I gotta ask: So what?

         “Do you really want to spend the rest of your Afterlife spending one day out of the year, hiding away in fear? Knowing that one slip up, one misstep could have you on the end of spear? That’s all it takes. There are so many ways that you can be lost. You didn’t make it home in time. You made your presence known and didn’t make a strong enough barricade. Someone you trusted pushed you outside and locked the door behind you. Why are you so willing to suffer through this? I want to give you all a chance. I’m not naïve. I know that there are people down here who happily walked down the roads of sin and embraced every evil deed they did. This message and the hotel aren’t for them. It’s for the people who made a few bad decisions that snowballed. It’s for the people who have secretly wondered what would happen if they changed one thing from their old life or how things could have gone differently. It’s for those of you that feel that sting of regret. The Hap – Hazbin Hotel is for you.” Charlie smiles softly. “I’m not ordering you to give it a try. I’m not telling you to do it either. I’m offering you a choice. That’s always what it boils down to, isn’t it? Choices. A lack of choice or too many choices. Well, this choice all depends on you. Continue to live your Afterlives as is and hope that you continue to luck out every year or,” Charlie fishes into the pocket of her jacket and pulls out a key. She holds it up for the camera and smiles.

         “The Hazbin Hotel will welcome you.”

         Charlie vomits into a waste basket as Vaggie strokes her hair. “Omigod you guys,” Charlie retches. “I’ve never talked that long on camera. I think I blacked out. Did I do okay? Did I—” Charlie puts her head back over the trash can and vomits again.

         “You were amazing, Hon,” Vaggie assures her. She pulls the princess’s hair back when a few strands escape. She gives her girlfriend’s back a pat. “Get it all out. That’s it. Oh wow, it’s so chunky. Charlie, what did you eat?”

         “Char-Char, you were phenomenal!” Angel Dust tells her. “I mean, you almost brought a tear to my eye and when you pulled the key out of your pocket?! Holy fuck!”

         The princess gives him a weak smile. “Thanks. That was – urgh – that was improvised.”

         “That was fuckin’ genius is what it was!” Angel exclaims. “I’m real proud of you!”

         Charlie looks up, prepared to respond before a fresh wave of sickness washes over her. When she at last finishes and sits on the floor, Razzle trots up with a bottle of water and Dazzle presses a cool towel against her face. “Thanks, guys,” Charlie swishes the water around in her mouth before spitting out. “Ugh. Be honest, how did I do?”

         “Amazing,” Vaggie replies. “You did amazing!”

         Charlie beams. She rolls her eyes and looks at Alastor who has been quietly watching the scene. “Would have been nice if some people had stayed awake for it though.”

         Alastor shrugs. “And yet, you did well enough without me being awake,” he points out. “I’m sure someone recorded it. I’ll have Vox find it for me later on the intra webs.”

         Vaggie cringes. “Alastor, we’ve been over this,” she says. “It is ‘internet’ not ‘intra webs’.”

         “Mm, I’m sure I’ve heard it both ways.”

         “From whom?!”

         Alastor doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans his head back against his chair. “Where is Vox? Can we leave yet?”

         “Vox is speaking with Tom,” Charlie tells him. “I think Mr. Trench wants to make Tom Talks a permanent fixture on the 666 News.”

         Angel Dust snorts. “I’m betting he’s wanting Vox to tell him how much of a shitty idea it is so he can get a mini chub going.”

         Vaggie recoils. “For fuck’s sake, Angel!”

         Even Charlie wrinkles her nose. “Angel, come on! Don’t be gross!”

         The spider demon shrugs.

         Vox walks up with a fresh cup of coffee and a disgusted expression. “Hey, Princess, nice work with your speech.”

         “Um, thanks but what’s with that face?”

         Vox shakes his head. “Trench wanted to spitball some new potential show ideas. I eventually got so fed up that I started screaming at him and then I realized that had been the fucker’s goal the entire time and he was just rubbing one out under the table.

Angel looks at Vaggie and Charlie and smugly says, “I told you so.”

Vox takes a sip of his coffee before chucking the rest of it at a passing demon. “I hate coming here and I’m officially done with today. Let’s go.” Without waiting for a response from the rest of them, Vox heads for the door.

         When they arrive back at the hotel, Charlie gets knocked flat on her back by an exuberant Niffty. “I saw the thing,” Niffty gushes. “You were so good, Ms. Charlie!”

         Charlie rubs the back of her head. “Thanks, Niffty!” the princess groans. “But maybe next time, leave out the tackle?”

         Husk doesn’t move from his spot behind the bar. The cat demon seems distracted, barely uttering a “Hey” to Angel Dust when the spider demon takes a seat. Alastor cocks an eyebrow at the winged feline but keeps his thoughts to himself.

         He breezes past the group and heads for the kitchen. A glass of water is in order, he realizes. Hydration is key.

         Alastor almost – almost – misses it, but some slight movement catches the corner of his eye and he turns back.

         Alastor stares. He tilts his head to one side. He tilts his head to the other side.

         He doesn’t understand what he’s seeing so he calls for the others.

         “The fuck,” Vaggie says, summarizing the Radio Demon’s thoughts perfectly. “Alastor, are you doing that?”

         Alastor could see how she’d think that. After all, it’s a wall of shadows so completely filling the dining room, that nothing can be seen inside. “I’m afraid that this isn’t my doing,” he tells her. “I’m just as bewildered as you.”

         Angel Dust raises a hand. “Should – should we touch it?”

         No one answers.

         “Well, go ahead,” Vaggie prompts.

         Angel immediately lowers his hand. “Oh fuck that. I’m not touching it!”

         “You were just about to touch it!”

         “And I changed my mind!”

         “Nobody touch it,” Charlie orders. She looks around. “With your hands, I mean. Anybody got a stick?”

         “I got my feather duster,” Niffty offers. She turns it so that she’s holding it by the feathers and tentatively extending it toward the darkness. The shadows slowly start to recede and the maid lets out a squeak. “I didn’t do that,” Niffty shrieks. “I swear!”

         Alastor watches as the shadows thin and pull apart, reforming to a pair of familiar shapes reclining on the dining table. “Ah,” the deer demon sighs. “I was wondering where you two got to.”

         His doppelganger gives him a languid smile. Vox’s shadow blinks almost sleepily at him.

         Alastor’s brow creases. Something about the two shadows seems…off.

         “So, it was just your shadows?” Vaggie says cutting through Alastor’s thoughts. “What  were they doing? Is that a new ability?”

         “Yes. I don’t know and I don’t know.” Alastor’s words are clipped. He’s too busy staring at his shadow. His doppelganger’s smile has transformed from languid to mockery, as if it’s enjoying a joke that Alastor’s not privy to. He doesn’t like that.

         “Why are they on the table?” Husk asks.

         “I don’t know,” Charlie frowns. She scratches the top of her head.

         Vox’s shadow yawns and trills at Alastor’s before resting its head against the deer shadow’s chest.

         The gears slowly turn in their heads and in an instant it clicks.

         “Oh, my Go –” Vaggie shrieks. “On our fucking table?! That’s where we eat! Alastor, control your fucking shadow!”

         Alastor’s having none of that. “Oh, what a novel thought, Vagatha! Control my shadow! Why haven’t I thought of that? Oh, wait!”

         “Look don’t cock an attitude with me! You’re the one with the shadow who decided it wanted to have weird shadow sex where we have meals!” She turns back to the shadows. “I mean, come on! Of all the places! Why here?”

         Alastor’s shadow looks less than impressed by Vaggie’s tirade. It yawns and folds its arms behind its head.

         “Oh, man,” Niffty bounces toward the table. “Oh, man! How do you think they do it? I couldn’t see! I have to know! The possibilities!” She looks around. Niffty grabs a discarded napkin and starts scribbling on it. “So many possibilities.”

         “So, does this mean your shadows are an item?” Angel looks at Alastor.

         Charlie’s face brightens. “Congrat—”

         Alastor points a finger at her. “Don’t,” he growls.

         Charlie deflates.

         The Radio Demon stomps over to the table. “I have had a very long day. I am hungover. I am irritable. I came home hoping for rest, but instead I find you defiling the dining room? Stop looking bored! I’m talking to you!” Alastor feels like he’s at the end of his rope.

         Alastor’s doppelganger looks at Vox’s shadow and emits a low series of chirrs and clicks. Vox’s shadow opens its eyes. It gives Alastor’s shadow a nod. Alastor’s shadow purrs and lowers it face to kiss Vox’s.

         Alastor feels infuriated. Niffty lets out an excited squeal.

         The shadows ignore everyone in the room. They deepen their kiss and the others watch as forms seem to melt and twist in a fluid motion.

         The shadows’ forms dissolve into mist. The shadowy mist starts to spread and thicken.

         “Um,” Angel Dust takes a step back. “Should we be in here for this?”

         Alastor walks backward as the mist becomes a thick black fog. The darkness spreads covering the windows of the dining room and blotting out the light. It grows even more and swallows the dining room table, inching closer to the rest of them.

         “I think we should go,” Charlie stammers. “Give them some privacy.”

         “Yeah,” Angel agrees. “That seems like the right choice.”

         They scramble from the room as the shadows’ mass expands.

         Niffty grins. She spreads her arms, closes her eye, and prepares to be swallowed by the oncoming darkness. “For science!”

         “Niffty, I swear to fucking Satan,” Husk snags the back of her blouse with his claws and yanks her out of the room. “Get outta there, you nutbar!”

         Alastor needs an aspirin. He needs the biggest aspirin. He stops when he sees Vox sitting on the stairs, typing away on his phone. “Vox?”

         The TV Demon looks up. “Oh, hey, Alastor. Sorry, I had to answer some texts.” He frowns at his cell. “Something going on?”

         The Radio Demon opens his mouth then closes it. “Stay out of the dining room,” he tells Vox. “It’s currently closed for…reasons.”

         If the Media Overlord finds that odd, he doesn’t let on. Vox just nods. “Sorry, about last night. I think we went a little overboard.” He offers the Radio Demon a smile. “It’s been a while since I had a drinking buddy. I guess I went a little wild.”

         Alastor takes a seat next to Vox. His earlier irritation with his hangover and his shadow’s behavior disappears. “Well, I must admit I can’t remember the last time I went overboard like that. It was fun. I don’t think we should ever do it again.”

         “Oh, definitely not,” Vox agrees. “But as far as experiences go, that was a good time. You are an excellent dancer, Radio Demon.” He gets to his feet and offers Alastor a hand.

         Alastor gladly takes it and allows Vox to pull him to his feet. “I could say the same to you, TV Demon,” he grins. “Nice to know you could actually cut a rug and weren’t all talk.”

         Vox opens his mouth to respond but a screaming Niffty interrupts him. The two Overlords watch as Niffty goes streaking through the room, disappears around the corner, then reappears wearing a headlamp with a rope tied around her waist. “I have to know!”

         “What?” Vox says. He looks at Alastor. “What,” he asks again.

         “Ha! Oh, that Niffty,” Alastor chuckles. He puts an arm around Vox shoulders and starts leading him upstairs. “How about a night cap?”

         “Alastor, it’s only five.”

         “A pre-night cap, then! Never too early! Who knows! It may help with our incessant hangovers! Hair of the dog.”

         Vox laughs. “Okay,” he says, relenting. “I won’t say no to another drink. Not after today.”

         “Good man,” Alastor says. “Let’s go!”

         “Niffty!” Alastor hears Husker scream. “Stop trying to go in there!”

         “I have to see!” Niffty screams back.  “For science!”

         Alastor leads Vox upstairs faster.

         Vox stumbles into his room. He just needs to get a little work done before he goes back upstairs. He promised Alastor that he’d only work an hour or two and then he’d go to bed. If he doesn’t keep his promise, the Radio Demon would come find him.

         Vox rubs a hand down his face. Why did he agree to drink more with Alastor? It was only meant to be a drink or two but then they got it in their heads to do a drinking game which they quickly forgot about.

         He smiles. God, Alastor. He was…just so great.

         The TV Demon sighs. His eyes catch something in the low light of his room. Niffty seems to have slipped another one of her…works under his door.

         Vox picks it up. Flips through it. Puts it down and sits in his chair. He starts checking emails.

         Vox stops.

         He picks up the book again.

         This was a bad idea.

         Vox opens it.

         This was a terrible idea.

         He starts reading it. Carefully.

         Why was he doing this?

         Niffty’s story isn’t bad, but it’s obvious she’s only providing enough plot to get to the next sex scene. Speaking of…

         Vox’s face warms as he takes in the full detail of Niffty’s art.

         Fuck! Where did Niffty even learn to draw like this?

         “Oh, fuck.”

         Vox’s eyes focus on the planes of Alastor’s back. The scars that map the skin. The look in his eyes as he presses kisses along Vox’s neck.

         Vox undoes his tie and unbuttons his shirt. He should be working. He should be working not—

         The TV Demon has no idea what the story’s about. Niffty apparently wrote a story about Alastor and Vox having a demon duel. As the story progresses, both Overlords lose more and more of their clothes.

         Vox closes his eyes. He should just shut this book and get back to his email. He should—

         “Alastor uses his shadows to bind Vox’s arms to a low-hanging tree branch. He looms over the TV Demon with a hungry look in his eyes. Vox looks back with a smirk on his face, unafraid and unbothered. Alastor uses his sharp claws to slice away at Vox’s belt. He leans forward to whisper crude words in the TV-headed demon’s ear. Filthy promises.”

         Vox swallows. He knows he shouldn’t but his hand moves to cup the front of his pants. He squeezes his cock through his pants. How long has it been?

         “Alastor knew it was always bound to end like this. The two enemies, driven by their lust for power finally realizing that maybe it wasn’t ‘power’ they were really lusting after.”

         Okay, that line was pretty cheesy, but Vox has read worse. The scene progresses and Niffty has her first sex scene. Alastor takes Vox against the tree.

         Vox unzips his pants. This was a line. This was a line and he was crossing it. This was super fucked up. Vox knows this. Of course, he knows this. So why is he—

         The Media Overlord bows his head, hating himself as he jerks himself to completion, his mind returning to that illustration of Alastor’s eyes.

         Vox sags against his chair. He hates himself. He’s the goddamned worst. He’s a shitty friend who doesn’t deserve—

         Vox hears a low, inquisitive trill. His head whips around and sees Alastor’s shadow staring at him.

         Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

         “Hey buddy!” Vox says and tries to straighten his clothes. He tucks himself back in and zips up. “How, um, how long have you been standing there?”

         Alastor’s doppelganger tilts his head and stares at the Media Overlord. Vox’s shadow is nowhere in sight. They must not travel together all the time. Alastor’s shadow glides closer to Vox and the TV Demon presses back against his chair. “Look, I’m not going to pretend you didn’t see…what you saw, but I don’t suppose we could just keep it to ourselves? You don’t have to tell Alastor, right? It can be our little secret.”

         The smile on the shadow’s face widens. He leans closer until he’s a mere inch from Vox’s screen. He extends his tongue and runs it along the side of Vox’s screen. He winks at Vox before sinking into the floor and disappearing.

         Vox sits there, dumbfound. “Was that a yes,” he yells at the floor.

         Alastor sighs and rubs his eyes. He signs the form and moves it to the finished pile. It seemed like a good idea at the time to come downstairs and emulate Vox by getting some work done. Now, he’s regretting it.

         Paperwork was so boring.

         His shadow rises from the floor and takes a seat in the chair in front of Alastor’s desk. The Radio Demon doesn’t look up. “I would ask where you’ve been, but I don’t really care.” He signs another paper. Moves it aside. “There needs to be some rules established if you’re going to continue roaming about.”

         His shadow doesn’t reply. Alastor looks up and stares across at the specter. “I don’t understand how you work now, but I will tell you this: continue on your current path and I will do whatever it takes to unmake you.”

         Alastor and his shadow glare at one another. The shadow lets out a low hiss and Alastor retorts with a stacticky snarl of his own.

         Their stare off gets interrupted by a hesitant knock at the door. Alastor sighs and climbs to his feet. When he opens the door, he sees Husk standing on the other side, looking uncharacteristically humbled. The cat demon holds his hat between his paws and his eyes stare at the floor. “Evening, Alastor,” Husk murmurs.

         “Evening, Husker.” He’s been expecting this since Vox shows him an unaltered video of Charlie’s speech on VoxTube. He reaches into his coat and pulls out a form. He hands it to Husk who takes it carefully. “Fill it out and you can either return it to Charlie or myself in the morning.”

         “Thanks, Al.”

         “Mm-hmm.” Alastor closes the door. He still thinks that the hotel is doomed to fail. That the Sinners who actually believe they can change their judgements are fools but…

         Charlie’s message about choices and whatnot, he’s not made of stone and Alastor admits that it probably resonated with some people. Not him, of course. No, no, no. He’s definitely one of the Sinners Charlie mentioned who happily walked down the path of sin. And he has no regrets.

But demons like Husk and Angel Dust?

Well…

         “Give it your best, Husker,” Alastor murmurs.

         Alastor tries not to let his surprise show when Vox arrives upstairs at the time he said he would. “My goodness,” he says. He looks at his pocket watch. “Two hours on the dot! I’m impressed! I thought I’d have to send one of my moppets after you.” Vox offers him a half smile but doesn’t say anything. Something’s wrong. “Are you well, Vox? You seem…upset.”

         “I’m fine,” Vox answers. He sighs. “I guess I’m just tired. I think I’m going to turn in. When Alastor makes his way to his bedroom, he calls out, “And I’ll take the couch. No arguments this time. I need to be up early. I don’t want to wake you with my moving about.”

         Alastor narrows his eyes at the TV Demon. He was clearly hiding something. The deer demon sighs and let’s the subject drop. “Very well,” he bows his head. “A good night to you, Vox. I’ll see you in the morning.”

         “See you in the morning, Alastor. Good night.”

         Alastor closes the door to his bedroom and begins to change for bed. His shadow appears by his side. “Vox was acting strange. Have you seen anything or anyone who might have upset him?”

         His shadow shakes its head,  but Alastor swears for just a moment he saw a glimmer of something in his doppelganger’s eyes. Alastor looks at his shadow suspiciously but his shadow suddenly floats off.

         Whatever. That’s something to worry about in the morning.

         The morning comes too soon in Alastor’s honest opinion. The Radio Demon groans and shifts on the mattress. His face presses against a warm back.

         His eyes shoot open and a hiss almost escapes before he sees who has invaded his bed.

         It’s only Vox.

         The deer demon chuckles. Had the TV Demon changed his mind? Well, that was all well and good but how did he get in here without waking Alastor?

         “Vox?”

         Vox snuffles in his sleep. His screen glows brighter and his eyes open.

         He shoots up. “What the fuck?”

         “Good morning, Vox! How did you sleep?”

         Vox scrambles off the bed, hitting the floor, and putting some distance between himself and the deer demon. Alastor doesn’t like the hurt and confused expression on the TV Demon’s face. He likes even less because it’s directed at him. “Why am I in your room?”

         “I…assumed you came here at night.” Alastor pauses. “Is that not the case?”

         Vox shakes his head.

         Well, now Alastor’s just confused or at least he would be if he didn’t see his shadow peeking up from behind the armoire and snickering. “Apologies, Vox. My shadow once again thinks it’s a comedian. You are not to do that again.”

         Alastor’s shadow floats over to Vox. It wraps its arms around the TV Demon and nuzzles Vox’s face. Vox lets out a shaky laugh. “Okay! Okay! I forgive you. No harm done, I guess. I did manage to get a full night’s sleep thanks to you.”

         Vox’s shadow phases through the floor. Alastor’s lets out a happy trill at sight of it. The two shadows chase each other around Alastor’s room, phasing in and out of solidity to avoid hitting any of the furniture.

         “It’s much too early for this energy,” Alastor tells them. He sighs. This was a losing battle. “Vox? Coffee?”

         “Yes. All kinds of yes.”

         Alastor goes to his kitchen and sets about making their coffee. “I thought you had to be up early,” he comments when Vox comes out of the room.

         The TV Demon frowns and shrugs. “No helping it now,” he says. He takes a seat on the couch and begins playing an obnoxiously loud phone game.

         Vox’s shadow gets drawn to the room by the noise. It floats over to where Vox sits and hovers over his shoulder. Vox smiles and moves the phone so that his shadowy doppelganger can have a better look.

         Alastor finds it remarkable how seemingly better behaved Vox’s shadow is compared to his own. Speak of the devil. His shadow glides out his bedroom and moves to stand behind the duo. The doppelganger makes eye contact with Alastor. It raises a hand and caresses the side of Vox’s face then the face of Vox’s shadow. It places a hand on both their shoulders and gives Alastor a look.

         The meaning is clear.

         Alastor's feet propel him across the room. He wraps a hand around his shadows neck and starts dragging out the front door. His shadow screams, and tries to morph itself into various shapes to free itself from Alastor’s grip. The deer demon holds on tight. He sees Vox and his shadow watching and he gives them a reassuring laugh. “Don’t mind us! We’re just going outside to talk! Aren’t we?”

         His shadow roars and tries to claw at the deer demon’s face. Alastor reels back. “Oh, no you don’t! Come along! There’s a good shadow! Be just a - stop that! Just a moment!”

         Alastor wrestles his shadow out the door. It glares at Alastor. Alastor grabs the shadow by the shoulder and shoves it against the door. He points a clawed finger in his shadow’s face. “Now, you listen here. The shadow Vox is yours. The three-dimensional Vox is mine! You don’t get to have them both!”

         “Um.”

         Alastor whips around and sees Vaggie standing on the stairs. “Vagatha!” Alastor throws open his arm in greeting. “A fine morning to you! I was just—” He stops. “If you could keep this little exchange away from the ears of your paramour and our darling Niffty, I would greatly appreciate it.”

         Vaggie studies him for a moment. “Yeah, last night Charlie kept me awake trying to decide what the hypothetical theme of your hypothetical wedding would be, so I’m not really anxious to give her more material. I was just coming to grab you and Vox because there’s breakfast. Also, Vox has some guests waiting for him downstairs.”

         Shit.

         “Vox, didn’t say anything about expecting guests.”

         “Yeah, well they said they tried to call ahead, but he never picked up.” She shrugs. “They’re downstairs.”

         “Thank you, Vaggie. We’ll see you in a moment.” When the moth demon is far enough away, Alastor wheels around to look at his shadow. “This conversation isn’t finished. Merely paused.” He throws open the door. “Oh, Vox! You appear to have guests waiting for you downstairs!”

         Vox blinks. “Guests,” he repeats. “For me?”

         “That’s what I was told.”

         The TV Demon hums with thought. His eyes widen then he groans. “Ugh! I can’t believe they came here! For fuck’s sake! Where’s my shirt and shoes? Better get this over with!”

Chapter Text

Vox takes a deep breath as he descends the steps. “One thing, Alastor,” he says before he reaches the bottom. “I just wanna say: don’t judge too harshly.”

Before Alastor can ask what the TV Demon means by that, Vox has already left the stairs and walks briskly to the sitting room.

There’s Sinner demoness waiting for him. She’s dressed in a black pencil skirt that hugs her wide hips paired with a blue and black off-the-shoulders blouse. The demoness has black skin and a pair of pointed bat ears beneath black hair swirled up into an impressive updo. She stands perched on a pair of black heels that Alastor’s sure are sharp enough to take out an eye. When she turns, Alastor can see she’s also wearing a chunky pair of black sunglasses. Her face is as white as grease paint and when she removes the glasses, Alastor sees a pair of pie cut black eyes narrow in Vox’s direction. “Well, well, well,” she says, her voice high and nasally. “Look who decided to grace us with his fucking presence! Where the fuck have you been, Vox?” She tucks her glasses down into her purse and puts her hands on her hips. Her nails are sharpened to points and painted the same bright blue of her blouse.

Vox sneers. “What’s the matter, Vesta? No ‘hello’?”

“Oh, you want a hello? You hear this fucking guy? He wants a fucking hello! How about I give you a fucking hello when you learn to answer your fucking phone!”

“I’ll answer my fucking phone when you stop sending me a million and one fucking messages, Vesta!”

“It’s called checking in, Vox! Something you clearly don’t know how to fucking do since you can’t be fucking—can you believe this guy? I come all the way across town, after you’ve been AWOL for weeks, and this is the attitude you give me? Un-fucking-believable!”

“I wasn’t AWOL!” Vox screams. “I was fucking healing!”

“Oh, let’s talk about that !” Vesta yells back. “You get into another fight with that fucker Valentino, and we gotta learn about it from the goddamned news? Are you trying to give me a heart attack, Vox because you’re going to give me a fucking heart attack!”

Vox huffs. “It’s not like I planned to get shot or shoved out of a car.”

“He shot you?!” Vesta screeches.

Vox blinks. “…No?” He immediately tries to backtrack.

Puffs of smoke blow out of Vesta’s ears. “Yo, Briar! Get the fuck in here! You need to hear this shit!”

A tall, slim Sinner Demon walks in. He’s got the face of a horse with neon blue pupilless eyes. “Well, look who it fucking is! Vox! Thank you for finally seeing us, your majesty!” he pretends to curtsy. “I mean, it’s not like we needed you to be at the fucking studio days ago because apparently nobody can do shit without you breathing down their necks!”

Vox scoffs. “Oh, don’t you fucking get on my case, Briar. I got enough of that shit with Vesta!”

“I wouldn’t have to give you shit if you picked up a fucking phone!”

“I fucking told you I was too busy not dying to pick up the fucking phone!”

“And whose fault is that,” Vesta demands.

Vox rolls his eyes. “Oh, here we go!”

“Yes!” Vesta shouts (Alastor wonders if Vox’s assistants even have an inside voice). “Yes, ‘here we go’ because I told you that Valentino guy was a scumbag! Briar! Briar, didn’t I say he was a scumbag?”

“You did! You said he was a fucking scumbag.”

“I know! I have fucking good intuition when it comes to shitty men! I could have set you up with – ”

“Vesta, I told I didn’t want you playing fucking matchmaker.”

“Don’t fucking interrupt me, Vox it’s fucking rude!”

“Don’t fucking tell me what is and what isn’t rude like I’m some sort of idiot!”

“Why are you yelling at me?”

“You yelled at me first!”

“You’re both yelling,” Briar points out, equally as loud.

“Shut the fuck up, Briar.”

“Yeah, who the fuck even asked you?!”

Alastor takes a seat, finding the entire exchange fascinating. He spots the others peering wide-eyed from the dining room, obviously drawn by the sound of screaming.

Vesta clicks over to Vox who glares at her. She jabs a finger into his chest. “You disappear and we hear nothing from you! Nothing! We go by your tower and it’s fucking crawling with Imps because apparently your place got trashed. By your shitty ex, I’m assuming?” When Vox says nothing, she sneers. “That’s what I thought. We don’t hear shit from you! Instead, I gotta get a call from Mandie in Accounting because her sister’s cousin's boyfriend's nephew saw a fucking picture of you eating at the Fisherman’s Wife! You can go out for fucking sushi, but you can’t fucking call us to let us know you’re okay?”

“All we’re asking for is a little common courtesy, yeah?” Briar says. “Is that too much to fucking ask?!”

“Are you even taking care of yourself?” Vesta demands. “You’ve been eating? Look at you! Look at how skinny you are!”

“For fuck’s sake, Vesta. You’re not my fucking mom.”

“And thank God for that,” the demoness shoots back. “Because if I was ever unfortunate enough to shoot an ungrateful and inconsiderate jerk like you out of my gooch, I would, well, I wouldn’t know what I’d do. Probably shove you back up there until you learned a little respect!”

“Jesus, Mary, and Cousin Joey, Vesta! Nobody needs that image!” 

“Shut the fuck up, Briar! Answer the question, Vox. Have you been eating?”

Briar snorts. “Of course, he hasn’t been eating. Look at how skinny he is. Bet he’s been surviving on Joltz and Voot Floops!”

“You can’t just eat fucking Voot Floops, Vox! You need to eat a fucking salad every once in a while!”

“I’m not just eating fucking cereal,” Vox snarls. “And what the fuck am I supposed to do with them? You keep sending me boxes!”

“Because you’re the fucking sponsor,” Vesta claps her hands to emphasize each word. “Which reminds me, you haven’t been posting nearly enough pictures of yourself eating the cereal. You need to get on that or we’ll lose the sponsorship!”

“Motherfu—you just told me that I eat too much cereal! And I wasn’t posting any pictures because – once again – I was busy healing!”

“And going on dates.”

“Yeah, Vox. You’re not too busy to go on dates!”

“It wasn’t a fucking date! It was an outing!”

Vesta and Briar, both “Oooh” and wave their hands.

“Oh my goodness,” Vesta says mockingly. “It was an outing ! My mistake! I was too busy putting out all the fires from your absence, but please make sure that I use the correct terminology.”

Alastor clears his throat. Both Vesta and Briar’s heads whip around at the sound. “Good morning. I don’t mean to interject—”

Both Vesta and Briar skitter forward. Smiles stretch over their faces as they crowd around Alastor. The Radio Demon’s eyes widen with surprise and whatever he wanted to say freezes in his throat.

“Oh my gosh,” Vesta says, voice now sweet as honey and a normal volume. “You’re the Radio Demon! It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Thank you so much for taking care of our Vox,” Briar interjects, also speaking in an inside voice. “We appreciate it so much! You would not believe! He can be such a handful!”

“Such a handful,” Vesta agrees. She smiles a sharp-toothed smile. “I hope the boss has been showing you the appropriate amount of gratitude for saving him from that rat-faced fuck!”

Alastor bows his head. “Madame, I only did what I thought was right. I certainly wasn’t going to leave him in that alley.”

“You are sweet,” Vesta coos. She turns back toward Vox. “He left you in a fucking alley?”

“No!” Vox replies. “I crawled into the alley! I couldn’t see. My screen was busted.”

“Oh my fucking—he broke your screen? Again?” Vesta looks like she wants to set something on fire. “This is why I tried to set you up with my cousin!”

“I didn’t want to date your fucking cousin, Vesta!”

“Fuck you! Viper’s a nice guy! He woulda treated you right! Unlike that fucking animal Valentino!”

Vox sighs. “Can we drop it? I’m really tired and—Jesus!” Vesta stands in front of him, scrutinizing his face.

“Have you been sleeping?” She asks. “And don’t lie to me.”

“For your fucking information, I got at least eight hours last night.”

Vesta and Briar once again begin mocking him. “Ooh! You hear that. Briar? He got eight hours!”

“Look at him! Mr. Fancy finally getting the recommended amount of nightly slumber for an adult!”

“Everybody! Let’s throw Vox a fucking party because he finally decided to fucking take care of himself!”

“Ooh, we can get a parade!” Briar pretends to play an instrument.

Vesta wrinkles her nose. “The fuck are you doing?”

“I’m playing a bugle!”

“What fucking parade have you been to that has a fucking bugle?”

“Oh, fuck you. Parades can have bugles!”

Vox sticks his fingers into mouth and blows a long shrill note. “Why are you two here?”

Vesta sighs. She whips out a phone with a gem encrusted case. “If you had bothered checking the ‘millions’ of texts I sent, you would have seen that I’ve been trying to tell you that you have some commercials that need to be filmed. You were also supposed to be hosting a game show.” She scrolls through her phone.

Both Briar and Vox pull out their phones and start scrolling. The room falls silent. Alastor observes this ritual like he’s watching a nature documentary.

The change in the trio is instantaneous. They go from screaming in each other’s face to calmly scheduling and rescheduling events.

“We can move this to this day and…”

“Have this cancelled. It conflicts with…”

“So, should I call their people and tell them we’ll be in touch or…?”

With a few more taps on screens, the business concludes, and the phones get put away. The three demons sigh with contented relief.

Thinking the worst is over, Charlie approaches the trio with her hand extended. “Hello! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! It’s wonderful to meet you. I’m Charlie!”

         “I know who you are.” Vesta takes Charlie’s hands and gives her a no-nonsense handshake. “Name’s Vesta. Vesta Inquewelle. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, doll.” She pulls Charlie closer and snakes an arm around her shoulders, holding the princess in place and making escape impossible. “Saw your redo last night on the TV. Real nice. Brought a tear to my eye. Seriously, it really got me.”

         Charlie smiles at that. “Oh? Would you perhaps be interested in—”

         Vesta cuts her off with a laugh. “Not a chance! Honey, I ain’t an idiot. I deserve to be down here. I made mistakes but I got no regrets.”

         “Well, that’s—”

         “In fact,” Vesta says. She starts walking around the room, dragging a bewildered Charlie along for the ride. “I’m actually kinda proud. See it wasn’t easy being me. I was the first female animator in this little independent company—”

         Alastor sees Vox and Briar roll their eyes. Apparently, they’ve heard Vesta’s story already because they pull out their phones to pass the time. Occasionally, one or both would mouth along to a certain part and mimic Vesta’s gestures to a T.

         “Those losers actually thought they were going to be the next Disney, but they would’ve been nothing without me! I clawed my way to the top! I didn’t let anything fucking stop me! It was amazing until I met him.” Vesta pulls out a hanky and dabs at her eyes (out of her line of sight, Vox and Briar do the same) before she continues, “Jacoby Bradsworth III! He was the son of the studio’s head honcho and set to inherit the whole enchilada once his old man kicked the bucket. He told me I had moxie! Said I had a beautiful brain and that he really loved that I was willing to burn the midnight oil while the rest of those fucking losers went home!”

         “Hey, Vesta,” Vox interrupts. “I’m sure Princess Morningstar has better things to do so why don’t you skip to the part where you and Jacoby fucked, he broke up with you, and you retaliated by locking him and coworkers inside their studio and burning down the building?” He taps his wrist. “Tick tock.”

         Vesta whips around, her perfectly coiffed hair unfurls and for a moment black flames dance on her scalp. “I was trying to give her some backstory, you fuck! Trying to explain why I did what I did! I was a scorned woman who had her heart trampled on by some cold-blooded Lothario!”

         “Really,” Briar drawls. He elbows Vox. “Because didn’t you tell me that the real reason you killed him was because you overheard him say and I quote, ‘It was fun slumming it with Hoboken trash’?”

         The flames on Vesta’s head grow larger and she sprouts a pair of leathery wings and overlapping fangs. “I’m not even from Jersey,” Vesta screams. “I’m from fucking Staten Island! Staten Island! Fucking prick thought everyone who didn’t live in a fancy Manhattan brownstone was from across the river! Fucker!”

         Vox sighs. “Vesta, you got Princess Morningstar in a headlock. Give her some air.”

         Vesta looks down and sees that she does indeed have Charlie in a headlock. “Oopsie! Sorry, your highness! I just get a little emotional when I think about my past! You could say it’s a bit of a sore spot.”

         Charlie takes in a big gulp of air. “Hey, no worries,” she wheezes. She gives Vesta a pat on the shoulder. “Sorry, that guy broke your heart.”

         “Eh, it’s no big. It was just nice hearing him cry like a baby when he realized I had jammed his office door shut with his precious nine iron.” Vesta smiles for a second before a grimace crosses her face. “Too bad I wasted too much time mocking him instead of getting out of the building, but in my defense, I didn’t think the fire would spread that fast. C’est la vie.”

         “That’s…wow…”

         “Okay, okay,” Vox says. He grabs Briar by the arm and pulls him toward Vesta. “You two have wasted enough of everybody’s time. Go back to the office and I’ll stop by later.”

         “What the fuck do you mean by later,” Vesta asks. “Because later could mean anything, especially coming from you!”

         “I got things to do, Vesta! Besides, I need you guys to assemble a crew to film a commercial.”

         Vesta’s ears perk. “Commercial for what?”

         “A commercial for my hotel,” Charlie says before Vox can say anything. She beams.

         Both the assistants look like they’ve just sucked on a lemon. They don’t look at Charlie and instead focus on Vox. “And what’s this gig paying,” Briar asks.

         Vox stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks askance. “I…didn’t ask for payment.”

         Vesta and Briar are not happy to hear that.

         “Oh, so you’re suddenly running a charity now?” Vesta screeches the same time Briar bellows an outraged, “What the fuck?!”

         “I owe them a favor!” Vox shouts back. “They literally nursed me back to health!”

         The bat demoness snorts. “So grab them a thank you card and be done with it. You’re talking about assembling a crew, gathering equipment, and wasting time and effort for what? This?” she gestures. Vesta narrows her eyes. “Are you planning on staying here? Like as a patient?”

         “No, of course not!”

         “Then why do you give two—” Vesta stops. She leans over and looks at Alastor. Her eyes narrow again as she scrutinizes him. A cartoonish light bulb appears and lights up over her head. Charlie raises a finger to poke at it, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared.  

         A slow smile creeps over Vesta’s face.

         “Vesta,” Vox growls. “I’m warning you.” He moves to block her path.

         She sidesteps him. “I just wanna talk to him,” she says sweetly.

         “Vesta, no!”

         “Oh, Mister Alastor! Mister Alastor!”

         “Vesta, don’t!”

         Vesta huffs. “Briar? Interference!”

         “Got it!” In an instant, Briar grows an additional five feet and gains a massive amount of muscled bulk. He throws Vox over his shoulder and bounds from the room.

         “Briar, put me the fuck down or you’re fired!”

         “You can’t fire me! I’m in a union!”

         “Hell, doesn’t have unions! It’s Hell!”

         Vesta smiles sweetly at Alastor. “You mind joining me outside for a smoke?”

         Alastor meets her gaze with a quirked eyebrow. He’s confident there’s nothing she can do to a demon of his power. He holds out his arms and loops it with hers. “Of course, my dear. I’d be delighted.”

         Vesta titters as the two of them walk out the front door.

         In one practiced motion, she pulls the wings back into her body and a bejeweled cigarette case out of her purse. She selects a thin cigarette and holds it up. “Got a light?”

         “Of course.” Alastor summons a ball of flames in the palm of his hands.

         “Such a gentleman,” Vesta remarks. She takes a few puffs. “Much better than the last guy.”

         Alastor doesn’t really have a response to that, so he says nothing.

         Vesta stares out at the city as she smokes. “You know, when I met Vox, I was still real sore about what happened to me. I was certainly sore about going from an animator to someone’s glorified coffee girl, although if I being honest Vox pays better and I don’t gotta worry about him grabbing my ass or tits.” She sneers. She glances at Alastor. He still says nothing. “Ya know, I gotta say and I mean no disrespect, but you couldn’t pay me to be an Overlord. You got all this fucking fancy power, but you always got put up a front. You always gotta be on your guard. Fucking politics,” she spits. “Ooh, glad my ma ain’t here to see that. She would’ve skinned me.” Vesta blinks then says under breath, “At least I don’t think she’s here…” the demoness shakes her head. “Anyway, my point is Vox puts up this front of being the typical powerful Overlord with fancy-schmancy powers and cruelness to back it up, but between you and me? The guy’s got a big heart. Now, he can’t show it – God forbid – but it’s there. Especially, when he’s sweet on someone. Like a certain pimp who shall remain nameless.” Vesta spits again. “All the time Vox wasted on him! All the money too! And Velvet was just as bad! He’d never say it, but I fucking will! Those two? They treated him like he was their fucking piggie bank! And what do they do?'' She stops and turns to Alastor. “I want you to level with me,” her voice trembles. “How bad was he when you found him?

         Alastor hesitates, not because he’s afraid of what Vesta would do with the information, no it’s apparent that despite their yelling and cursing, Vox shares a camaraderie with his assistants and that beneath the raised voices Vesta and Briar were truly concerned about the Overlord’s welfare. No, he hesitates because he doesn’t think Vox would want them to know how badly he’d been hurt.

         Vesta notices his hesitation and grunts. “That bad, huh? Fuck. Okay,” she takes a long drag from her cigarette and thinks. “Thanks for not killing him. I mean, I know you two used have some animosity going on, so it was real big of you not to snuff him out when you saw him.” She sighs. “We’ll get the commercial set up for you. It’s the least we can do for you taking care of that idiot. I don’t just mean the healing. I mean getting him to eat and sleep. I literally think the only time he got anywhere close to a full night was when Valentino slept over.” Vesta makes a face. “Guess he was good for that at least.” She looks up at Alastor. “Hey. Take care of him. Don’t…” she pauses, sighs, and says, “Don’t hurt him. Under all that Overlord bravado, he’s kinda fragile. Likes to give his heart too fast to people who don’t deserve it.”

         Alastor looks confused. “Madame, I can assure you that I have done nothing and will continue to do nothing that will jeopardize the friendship I have with Vox.” He turns on his heels and walks back to the door completely missing the confused look that crosses over Vesta’s face and how she silently mouths, “Friendship? What?”

         Once inside, Vox runs up to Alastor. “What did she say?”

         Alastor holds up his hands. “Vox, it’s fine. We were just shooting the breeze while Miss Inquewell enjoyed a cigarette. Nothing to fret over.” Alastor blinks. “Where’s the other fellow? I assumed he had a good grip on you. How’d you escape?”

         “Kicked him in the nuts,” Vox replies. He glares at Vesta who has been watching the two of them silently. “What?”

         She hooks a thumb over her shoulder back towards the door. “Outside,” she barks. “I wanna talk to you.”

         Snow flares up on Vox’s face. He glances at Alastor before squaring his shoulders. “You don’t give me orders,” he growls. “I’m the one who signs your fucking – ow! Ow! Ow!” Vox yelps when Vesta marches toward him and grabs his wrist, making sure to dig her nails into his flesh. “For fuck’s sake, Vesta!”

         “I said, I wanna talk to you!” She drags the TV Demon outside.

         Alastor debates whether or not to send his doppelganger to spy for him but decides against it. For one thing, he’s still mad at his shadow and for another he’s not sure it would even listen to him. Fucking boon.

         Vesta folds her arms and taps her toe as she glares at Vox. The TV Demon scowls at her. She huffs a sigh. “Are you fucking kidding me,” she says through clenched teeth.

         “What?”

         “Are you absolutely fucking kidding me right now?”

         “Vesta, you’re not making any fucking sense.”

         “You,” and Vesta lowers her voice, “Are in love with the goddamned Radio Demon and he doesn’t even realize it!”

         Vox’s face glitches for a moment. He sputters, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” he laughs. “You’re crazy!”

         “Oh, shut the fuck up, you liar! You think I can’t see it on that flat face of yours? You’re over the moon! I knew there had to be a reason you were still hanging around here. Why you’re so intent on offering them services for free! You are fucking in love with him!”

         “No, I’m not!”

         “Yes, you are!” Vesta’s face softens. “Oh, honey.”

         “It doesn’t matter.” Vox’s shoulders sag. “He doesn’t feel the same. For fuck’s sake. Is it pathetic that I’m jealous of my shadow for having a relationship before me?”

         “I –” Vesta starts to answer, but then the words catch up and she blinks. “Wait, what?”

         “It doesn’t matter. I like this new thing I have with Alastor. I like not fighting with him. I like having fun with him.” Vox lowers his eyes. “If that means staying friends and nothing else then so be it. I can deal. I’ve dealt with worse. And who knows, maybe this is the universe telling me I should be done with relationships after the last one almost killed me.” The TV Demon grins. “It’s weird to say, but Alastor’s safe. He keeps me safe, and he makes me feel safe. Who knew?”

         Vesta pulls Vox into a hug. “You’re a dumb idiot, but you’re my dumb idiot,” she says.

         Vox hugs her tightly. “I know,” he murmurs.

         “You know, I could still set you up with my cousin, Viper…”

         “I’m not dating your fucking cousin!”

         “Why not? He’s a nice guy!”

         “He’s a cocaine addict and he’s got, like, twenty exes over Pentagram City and who knows how many in the rest of Pride!”

         “He just hasn’t met the right person yet! Hint fucking hint.”

         Vox shoves her away in disgust and heads back inside. She follows him still shouting the merits of her cousin.

         Alastor watches as Vox reheats his breakfast in the microwave. Vesta and Briar have left after a short meeting with Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, and Vox to discuss the finer details of what they’re looking for in a commercial.    Once the details are squared away, the two assistants leave to assemble a proper crew and to find proper sound equipment for Alastor’s voiceover.

         The TV Demon has said nothing since the departure of his assistants. The energy seems to have drained from him the second they’re gone. The Radio Demon takes it upon himself to fill the silence. His attempts are met with grunts or growls or nothing at all.

         “I enjoyed them. They clearly care about you.” When Vox just grunts yet again, Alastor rolls his eyes. “Oh, dear. Where’s the Vox I’ve grown fond of? Where’s that wonderful friend of mine? Who has replaced him with this caveman who bears his striking resemblance?”

         “Alastor…”

         “Ah! You speak! I’ll alert the papers!”

         Vox turns to glare at him. Alastor tuts. “Oh, don’t look so sour. I tried to warn you that they would come to investigate if you kept ignoring their calls.” He puts an arm around Vox’s shoulders.

         The TV Demon chuckles. “Really? And here I thought you’d never resort to an ‘I told you so’,”

         “Oh, I love I told you so’s. They’re one of my favorites. Right up there with: ‘This wouldn’t have happened if you’d listened to me’ and right under a good old-fashioned: ‘Well, who could have ever foreseen this?’ delivered with just the right amount of biting sarcasm.”

         Vox snorts. The microwave dings, he opens the door to slide out his plate, and uses the kitchen island as a table. “You going to heat up your plate?”

         “I reheat mine in the oven,” Alastor tells him. “I don’t trust those accursed things. Radiation as a heat source? How is that safe?”

         “Well, the sun is a heat source…”

         “Yes, I’m aware,” the deer demon retorts. “I’m also aware of what too much of it will do to your body.”

         Vox shrugs. “I mean, I don't think Hell's sun has the same radioactive properties of the sun from the Living World, but who knows.” He slices into his breakfast meats. “So what are your plans for the day?”

         Alastor thinks. Truth be told, he didn’t have any. “No idea. You?”

         “I’m going back to my tower. I can’t avoid it forever. It’s bad optics.”

         The deer demon doesn’t care for this new information. “I suppose that’s true,” he bites out. He studies Vox. “Do you feel safe?”

         Vox stops slicing and stares down at his plate. “Doesn’t matter,” he says after a while. “That’s my home and I’m not letting Valentino chase me away from it. Not again.”

         “I see.” Alastor grows quiet.

         “Of course, it’s just long enough that people can’t say that I’m hiding out here again.” Vox continues. “I stopped here. Spent some quality time with you and your motley crew then went home. Nothing strange about that, right?”

         Alastor nods. “Right.”

         “Also, nothing strange about me coming by occasionally. I mean, Vark really likes Niffty and it’s good for him to socialize with Fat Nuggets. I would hate to deny him that. Also, my tower’s got so much distracting stuff in it. My tv, my console, my gaming computer, my movies. I mean, the list goes on. It’s amazing I get any work done there. I get way more work done at the Hotel.”

         Alastor’s mood lifts. “Yes,” he agrees. “And if anyone has suspicions, we can schedule a weekly activity. Something that would justify you spending an evening or night with us.”

         “Maybe a movie night?”

         A movie night sounded like a wonderful idea. Any excuse to spend more time with Vox was a wonderful idea. “I’ll run it by the others, but I can’t imagine they’d have an issue with it.”

         And he’s right.

         The others love the idea of establishing a weekly activity. Charlie even proposes making it a part of the treatment plan, something fun for the residents. “Movie Night would just be the start,” she says, bouncing on her toes. “We can do other activities! Keep things fresh.”

         “Yes,” Alastor says, “But, I’d like for that to be for the residents. For now, the activity we do with Vox should simply be a movie night. It would serve as a non-obvious way to check in on him and his continued safety without raising suspicions.”

         Charlie nods. Her eyes soften as she looks at Alastor and the deer demon does not care for it. “We’ll do whatever we can to help him.” She leans and whispers conspiratorially, “And to keep you two together. Don’t worry!”

         Uuuuuugh.

         Vaggie walks up holding a newspaper. She shoves it into his chest. “Page two,” she tells him.

         Alastor arches a brow and opens it. His eyes scan the page, and he finds two paragraphs discussing his and Vox’s excursion and he chuckles, but then he keeps reading and his jaw drops. The article isn’t just talking about that, it’s also inquiring as to how Alastor and Vox could be spotted in one part of Pentagram City drunk and causing mayhem, but also on the other side of Pentagram City terrorizing demons and burning down buildings?

         Could it be, the article’s writer suggests, That the TV Demon and Radio Demon are capable of some sort of long-distance teleportation? Or have they secretly been clones this entire time perhaps put into place by the Morningstar Royal Family as a way to control the populace? Are you next? Or are we clones already?

         “Well, the good news is that whoever wrote this is an idiot,” Alastor tells Vaggie. He sighs. “Well, I suppose this would explain what the shadows have been doing in their free time.”

         Vaggie groans. “This is a potential PR nightmare! It’s bad enough you can’t control it anymore, but now its got a buddy that you also can’t control!”

         Alastor lets out an indignant huff. “I can still control my shadow!”

         She gives him a flat look. “Can you though?”

         Alastor’s face heats. “Of course,” he snaps. “I’m its creator! I made it! It’s an extension of me and my will! I am still in control!”

         “Yet it wanders off and you’ve admitted that it’s not listening to you.”

         Alastor flounders. He can’t deny that post-boon his shadow has had its issues (he’s said as much), but to have it thrown in his face like this! “For your information,” he snarls. “I’m perfectly aware of what my shadow’s been doing! This whole time! Ha!”

         “But you just said…”

         Alastor shoves the paper into her face, cutting her off. “Vaggie, I would love to stand here and chat about whatever ridiculous thing you’re talking about, but I’m very busy. Things to do. People to see. You understand. Bye!” He walks briskly away.

         “Alastor, get back here and talk about this!”

         “Absolutely not and you can’t make me!” Alastor teleports back to the kitchen only to find that Vox is gone. He finds a plate left on the counter along with a note.

         You were gone and I was afraid your food would burn. Took it out of the oven for you. Gone to my room if you need to find me.

         Vox looks up when Alastor teleports in. The deer demon sees him kick something under his chair but doesn’t think much of it. “Good news,” Alastor says. He walks over to the TV Demon and slings and arm around his shoulders. “Charlie agreed to movie night!”

         “Awesome,” Vox smiles. “Remember, it can’t be this week. You have that party to go to. All of you,” he stresses. “These guys need to see you all as a unit. A well-dressed and well-behaved unit.”

         Alastor snorts. “Well, Niffty won’t be an issue. I can purchase her an outfit and she’ll wear it. Husk on the other hand will need…convincing. He hates wearing clothes.”

         “Huh. Weird. Well, he’s going to need to wear clothes at that party. They aren’t going to let him in if he’s au naturale.”

         “Fair point. I’ll see if I can recruit Angel for that particular mission.” Alastor takes a seat on the arm of Vox’s throne. “Any guests we should be aware of?”

         “Valentino won’t be there, if that’s what you’re asking,” Vox replies. “Not really his scene. If it was just media and ad execs maybe, but there’s a chance of nobility among the partygoers.”

         “Afraid of embarrassing himself?”

         “Afraid his carefully crafted persona of being an ultra suave pimp will be ruined if he says the wrong thing or I don’t know, picks up the wrong salad fork or some bullshit.” Vox snorts. “Like there’s actually salad forks at these things. It’s mainly finger foods and drinks. No one would dare risk getting food stains on their pretty clothes.”

         Alastor nods. He sighs. “I suppose I should inform you that our shadows have been being terrors.” He relays what he read.

         Vox starts laughing. “No shit? That’s hilarious! What a couple of scamps! Well, if they’re having fun, I say leave ’em be. Although,” Vox strokes the bottom of his screen (Alastor assumes that’s the Media Overlord’s attempt of stroking his chin). “If I could teach my shadow to distort camera feeds and scrub footage, we wouldn’t have these issues.”

         “Are you sure that’s wise?”

         Vox shrugs. “What could it hurt? Better than some jackass speculating that we’re secret clones or some bullshit.” He snorts again. “Well, I should start getting ready to head back home.”

         “Really? So soon?”

         Vox nods. “Vesta, was right. I need to get my head back in the game. At least handle some face-to-face appointments.”

         “But you’ll still join us at the party?”

         “Of course! They’re not going to let you in without me. I’m the one with the invite.” He elbows Alastor playfully. “And don’t think I forgot that I’m supposed to guest star on your show. I’m not missing that.”

         Alastor beams. “Well, that’s good to hear.”

         They sit there for a moment, awkward silence hanging between them.

         “I should go,” Alastor says at last. He stands. “Will I see you before you leave?”

         “Yeah. I wouldn’t just go without saying goodbye. Plus, I need to give you something before I go.”

         “Oh?” Alastor wasn’t expecting that. “What is it?”

         “Ha!” Vox chuckles. “Nice try. You just gotta wait and see. Now out. I want to pretend to get a little work done before I head home.”

         Alastor leaves the other Overlord to his work. He feels…uncertain. He knows that Vox can’t spend the rest of his days hanging around the hotel, but there’s also a part of him that wishes he would. The Radio Demon makes his way upstairs. He finds his shadow waiting for him. “Of course,” he mutters. “I’m surprised you aren’t out causing havoc. Honestly, I don’t mind you causing havoc. That part I find hilarious. You should just be sneakier about it.”

         His shadow chitters. It reclines back on the sofa.

         Alastor rubs his temple. “I really wish that you could understand things from my point of view! People cannot know that I don’t have control of you. Power is a tenuous thing. It can easily be stolen or taken. I refuse to let that happen. Now, I’m not asking you to stop. No, perish the thought. I simply need you to be careful. I especially need you to stop being caught. You were seen, but at least you weren’t videotaped this time around.” The deer demon sighs. “You’re a shadow, stick to them! That’s all I ask.” Alastor pauses. He studies the shadow. “What buildings were you burning?”

         His shadow glides over to where he stands. It presses a finger against the center of Alastor’s temple.

         From his doppleganger’s point of view, he sees Vox’s shadow. Vox’s shadow chitters and clicks and because he’s seeing it through the shadow’s memories Alastor understands.

         Let’s have fun.

         Fun, Alastor’s shadow agrees.

         Vox’s shadow takes Alastor’s by the hand and they float over the city. Vox’s shadow stops in front of a building with Valentino’s profile. Its eyes flash red.

         I hate him.

         Yes, Alastor’s shadow agrees. He’s bad. Mean. He hurt your double. I’ve seen it.

         I’ve felt it, Vox’s shadow growls. I remember. He remembers so I remember.

         Destroy it, Alastor’s shadow presses. Break it! Burn it! Vox’s shadow looks confused. Alastor’s shadow nuzzles its face. It will make you feel better.

         Really?

         Yes.

         So that’s what they do. The two shadows knock the billboard down and it lands on the traffic below. The demons below scream, and the two shadowy specters laugh.

         Fun!

         So much fun, Alastor’s doppelganger agrees. More?

         More!

         Alastor pulls away. On the one hand, he shouldn’t condone his shadow running (flying) around Pride just randomly causing problems and destroying private property. On the other hand, it looked like they were mostly destroying Valentino’s property (mostly) and honestly the deer demon was all for that. “Well, you’ll get no complaints from me about destroying anything owned by that cretin. I simply asked that you be stealthy. Don’t get caught.” He pauses. “And don’t have sex in our dining room again!” He shudders. “Where did you learn that?”

         The doppelganger snickers and dissolves.

         Alastor sneers and shakes his head. “Troublesome creature.” He looks at his clock. Technically, it was too early for a drink but…

         Alastor walks to a wall panel and bangs a fist on it. He takes out a bottle of gin. Good Lord, I’m turning into Husker. The thought amuses him, and the Radio Demon chuckles.

         Alastor pours himself a glass and puts on a record. The music fills the room, and the deer demon begins to sway with it. This was nice. He felt nice. The gin warms him, the music made him content.

         There’s a knock on his door and he summons a tentacle to open it. Vox stands on the other side. He looks a little bewildered to see Alastor drinking and listening to music. “Having a party?”

         “Yes, a party of one! Until now!” the tendril wraps around Vox’s wrist and yanks him inside.

         Vox yelps as the tentacle wraps around his middle and carries him over to where Alastor stands. Alastor snaps his fingers and the music changes. A slow song begins to play. “Hello, Vox. Shall we dance? I can promise our waltz won’t be interrupted by a nosy photographer spying on us in an alley.”

         Vox sighs. “We…we really shouldn’t.”

         Alastor tilts his head. He hadn’t been expecting that answer. “Why not? Is something wrong? Have I done something to upset you?”

         “No, Alastor. It’s nothing like that.”

         “Ah, I see. You’re busy. I’m interrupting your work.”

         “No. It’s…” Vox frowns. He glances away and sighs. “Okay, one dance.”

         Alastor’s smile grows and he takes a hold of Vox’s hand and hip. “Shall we begin?”

         Vox looks around. “Um, aren’t you worried about all the—”

         The furniture gets pushed against the wall with a wave of magic. Vox blinks. “Well, alright then.” He chuckles.

         They dance around the newly freed up space. Alastor twirls and spins Vox with expert precision. Soon the worried crease between the TV Demon’s brow disappears and his face relaxes. Whatever dark thoughts had been plaguing him appear to have subsided.

         “This is nice,” Vox murmurs.

         “Didn’t do much of this with Valentino?”

         “I don’t want to talk about him. Not when I’m having a good time.” Vox says. The TV Demon stares into the Radio Demon’s eyes. They dance in silence for a few moments more before he pulls away.

         Alastor looks worried. “Is something wrong?”

         “No, no. I was just remembering why I came here in the first place. Have a seat.” He gives the cushion next to him a pat.

         Alastor arches a brow. He does just that. Vox pulls out a small box. Alastor takes the box and opens it. Inside is a blocky phone.

         “Now, I know you’re going to be upset but hear me out.” Vox smiles. “I know how you feel about tech, but I think you’ll appreciate having a way to talk to me. Well, not talk. That thing only lets you text.”

         “While I appreciate your…kind gift. I’m afraid I wouldn’t know how to use this.”

         Vox stares at him. He tilts his head a little. “That’s not what Niffty told me.”

         Fuck.

         “Oh,” Alastor says with a little laugh. “And what in the world has Niffty been telling you?”

         “She didn’t say anything outright, but she may have insinuated that you’re not as techphobic as you let on,” Vox smiles. “Hey, it’s okay. I may be in the business of finding out everyone else’s secrets, but I can keep a lid on them just as well. Besides, I kinda figured it out. Niffty just confirmed it.”

         Alastor grinds his teeth. “So, Niffty’s telling secrets now?” he snaps. “I’ll have to sit down with her. Have a talk.”

         “Now, now,” Vox says. He turns on the phone and hands it to Alastor. “Like I said, I kinda figured it out. You might not realize it, but when you read someone’s texts it’s obvious.”

         Oh.

         “So, this entire time? You knew.”

         Vox smiles. “Look, I get it. You’re an information gatherer like me. If I’m being honest, I’m a little jealous. I could hit my head tomorrow, pretend I got amnesia, and nobody would leave their phones near me. You? You’ve spent decades being so anti-tech that people would be comfortable forgetting their phones next to you for literal days!” Vox grins. “Also, I wasn’t kidding. I would have seen those texts from Tino and immediately forgiven him. So, I don’t really care if you read what he sent.”

         Alastor bows his head. “I apologize for abusing your trust like that.”

         “Well,” Vox drawls. “I don’t think of it so much as you ‘abusing my trust’ but more of you ‘taking away something that would have hindered my recovery’.” He smiles. “You did me a favor.”

         Alastor looks down at the phone. “So, you’re giving me a phone?”

         “Yes,” Vox says. “You can text me. Look, realistically, the whole me visiting the Hotel every once in a while is a good idea, but stuff can happen. This way I can talk to you, and you can talk to me. And because you’re you,” Vox winks at him. “No one will ever know we’re secretly talking.”

         It’s a good idea. He watches as Vox punches in his number. “There. It’s just me on your secret phone.”

         Alastor takes the phone. It feels heavy in his hands and not just because it’s such an old model. To have someone else know that his refusal to learn about post-1930s technology was a simple ruse, felt off. It felt wrong. It made him feel dirty. To rifle through people’s text messages and emails in secret were one thing, but this?

         His face must show something because Vox’s hand closes around his. “I’m not going to tell anyone. The phone’s on silent and you can keep it in your room, in your safe if that makes you more comfortable. It doesn’t do emojis or emails or anything fancy. Just texting. Thinking of it as a tiny typewriter. I…just wanted a way to talk to you that didn’t involve using someone else. I wanted something private.”

         Private. Yes. Yes, private was good. Of course, this made sense. “I…yes. I’m fine. Thank you, Vox.” Alastor smiles. “I’ll keep this somewhere safe.” The relief on Vox’s face makes the remaining discomfort instantly disappear. A private way for Vox to communicate with Alastor and Alastor alone. The deer demon’s not sure why the thought appeals to him so.

         Vox clears his throat. “Look, Alastor. I…feel like I should tell you something. I’ve been sitting on it for a while, and I think…I should just pull off the band-aid.” He looks briefly down at the hand still wrapped around Alastor’s. He doesn’t remove it. “Alastor, I…”

         A knock interrupts whatever Vox had been planning to say. The two Overlords move apart. Vox takes the phone back and shoves it into the pocket of his coat. Alastor snaps his fingers, and the furniture moves back to the proper place. The music shuts off.

         Charlie grins at Alastor as soon as he opens the door. “Uncle Ozzie’s on his way! Uncle Fizz says he has great news.”

         “Damn it, Charlie!” Niffty’s voice suddenly rings out. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

         Vox looks around the room. Charlie looks confused. Alastor freezes.

         “Niffty,” Alastor slowly bites out, “Are you in my ventilation duct?”

         Niffty goes silent. “No! No! I am afraid you are mistaken, Monsieur,” Niffty says in a terrible French accent. “Niffty? Who is this Niffty you speak of? I’m afraid I do not know her. Um. Sacre bleu!”

         Alastor drags a hand down his face. He snaps his fingers and Niffty flies out of the exposed air duct and lands in his waiting arms. She blinks up at Alastor. “Hi!”

         “Hello, Niffty.” Alastor sets her down gently. “Why were you up there?”

         “I was chasing rats!” Niffty smiles.

         Alastor’s temper flares because he’s not sure if she’s lying or not. He takes a deep breath before saying, “Please refrain from going in there. And from listening in on conversations you’re not a part of.”

         Niffty salutes. “Yes sir, Mr. Alastor.” Her smile dips into a scowl and she runs over to Charlie. She grabs the princess’s arm and pulls her down so she low enough for Niffty to whisper in her ear.

         Alastor watches as whatever Niffty whispers in Charlie’s ear causes the princess’s face to fall slack with horror. “I did what?” She screeches. “Oh no!” She presses her hands to both cheeks and looks at Alastor and Vox. “I’m so sorry! I’ve ruined everything!”

         “I’m sorry,” Alastor says. “What have you ruined?” He looks back at Vox. The TV Demon has his arms across his chest as he stares darkly at the hardwood floors and appears lost in thought. “Vox?”

         “I have to go,” Vox says abruptly. “Excuse me,” he says as he tries to get to the door.

         Alastor’s even more confused now especially by the distraught look on both Niffty and Charlie’s face. The move to block his path. “You should stay,” Niffty insists.

         “Yes,” Charlie nods furiously. “Finish your conversation. We’ll leave.” They both scramble out the door and close it behind them.

         (Alastor notices that the door’s still open a tiny crack.)

         “Vox?”

         The TV Demon rubs the back of his neck. “I have to go. I do.” He moves, seemingly going in for a hug but Alastor feels him slip the phone into his coat. “Thanks for spending time with me.”

         Alastor returns the hug and closes his eyes. “You wanted to say something to me before Miss Morningstar bumbled in?”

         “I…it’s not important. Not really. Pretend it didn’t even happen.”

         “Noooo!” a voice that sounds very much like Charlie, moans from behind the door.

         Alastor and Vox both look toward the door. Alastor waves a hand. The door shuts and locks. He looks back at Vox. “Vox? You can be honest with me.”

         Vox just shakes his head. He smiles. “I’ll see you later, Radio Demon. Take it easy.”

         Alastor feels that there’s more that the other Overlord isn’t telling him…

         …but Alastor lets him go.

         Angel Dust kisses Fat Nuggets on his piggie snout as he walks toward the bar. “Hi, Husky! What’s whoa!” the spider demon sees Charlie and Niffty huddled in the corner, crying. “What’s with those two? Did someone die?”

         Husk looks over to where the two demonesses sit and sighs. He pours Angel Dust a glass. “Here, actual alcohol. Courtesy of Princess Mope.”

         “No shit,” Angel Dust sets Fat Nuggets down on the floor. He takes the glass and gives it an experimental sniff. “Oh my God! Oh my God! Is this whiskey? Honest-to-God whiskey?!” He takes a sip and feels a familiar burn. “Yes!”

         “Savor it,” Husk tells him.

         “So, what’s the deal?”

         “Well, apparently,” Husk lowers his voice and leans in. “and I’m not sure how factual this is considering the source, but Charlie interrupted a love confession.”

         Angel Dust almost spits out the drink. Almost. “Alastor and Vox?”

         Husk nods.

         “Holy shit!” He looks over at Niffty and Charlie who have gone fetal. “So did the confessor manage to…?”

         Husk shakes his head. “Charlie fucked it up.”

         “Sheesh. No wonder she’s bummed. I’m a little bummed too if I’m being honest.” Angel Dust takes another drink. “Who was doing the confessin’ by the by?”

         “Vox.”

         “Yeah, that makes sense.” Angel sighs. “Poor TV Head.”

         Husk pours himself a drink and downs it. “Poor TV Head,” he growls in agreement.

         The door opens and Fizzarolli springs in. The jester-capped Imp takes one look at Charlie and immediately runs to her side. “Charlie, what’s wrong? Who hurt you?” He tries to pick her up, but the princess falls back limp. “Charlie?”

         “Uncle Fizz,” she weeps. “I’m so stupid!”

         “What? No! No, you’re not!” Fizz looks around, bewildered. He spots Husk and Angel at the bar. “You two! What’s going on?”

         “Hotel drama,” Husk replies.

         “That literally tells me nothing!”

         Fizzarolli starts dragging Charlie towards the door. “Charlie! Charlie, come on! Ozzie! I need you!”

         Asmodeus walks in, “Fizz, I told you I’m too sore to—” he stops. “What happened here?”

         “According to furry nuts over there,” Fizzarolli grunts. “It’s just hotel drama. Whatever the fuck that means!”

         “Never mind that,” Angel Dust yells as he gets off the bar stool. “What the fuck happened to you?”

         Ozzie looks down at himself. He looks like he’s been in a brawl. His clothes are ripped. He’s got scorch marks and scratches. His right arm is wrapped with bandages. He scowls. “I…discussed your case with Lucifer,” he tells Angel Dust. “Charlie? Candy Apple? Sit up.”

         Charlie sits up and looks up as her uncle crouches down in front of her. “Hi, Uncle Ozzie!”

         “Aw, Candy Apple. Are you drunk?”

         “I’m sad,” Charlie replies. She takes in a deep shaky breath. “And drunk!”

         “Oh, honey.” Asmodeus picks her up with his non-injured arm. “Tell Uncle Ozzie all about it.”

         “I ruined a chance for love to blossom!”

         All three of Ozzie’s faces scrunch in confusion. “Ok?” He sighs and gives her smile. “You know what would make you feel better? Would you like to snuggle the fluff?”

         Charlie looks blearily at her uncle. “Uncle Ozzie, I am an adult!”

         He tilts his head. “Oh, I see. So, you’re saying you’re too old now? You don’t want to?”

         Charlie thinks about it. She holds up her arms. Ozzie slides her down the front of his shirt and she burrows down into the fluff of his chest. “Well, now that that’s out of the way.” He turns back to Angel Dust. “Mr. Angel Dust, I have some amazing news. You have been approved for a brand new and very, very secret work program to encourage synergy between the Rings. Congratulations!”

         “Yay,” comes Charlie’s muffled reply.

         “That’s…” Angel Dust swallows down his tears. “Sorry. I’m just so fucking happy!” Not only was he finally free from Valentino, but he had a new chance to make money that didn’t involve being forced to fuck strangers. He sniffs. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” He stops. “Am I going to have to do things…for customers?”

         Asmodeus’ faces darken. “I don’t know what goes on here, but in my Ring consent is king. You’re not forced to do anything you aren’t comfortable doing.”

         “And if a customer tries,” Fizz interjects, “You come get one of us or security and we’ll throw the fucker out!”

         “Harassing my workers gets a fucker banned,” Ozzie says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box and hands it to Angel. “Here. In this, you’ll find a keycard, a signed letter from Lucifer and me that gives you permission to travel between Rings. Keep that on you when you’re coming to work and keep it hidden when you’re not. There’s also a badge I want you to wear when you’re in Lust. It marks you as under my protection and employment.” Asmodeus sighs. “I had to fight for this, you know. Literally.” Ozzie gestures at himself. “Lucifer got it in his head that I was trying to poach his subject. I told him that I was invited. I told him I was doing a favor for Charlie and the little prick still insisted I was trying to undermine him!”

         Angel blinks. “Is that why you look so roughed up?”

         “Yep! But believe you me I put up a hell of a fight.” Ozzie snorts. “Of course, like the little baby bitch he is, Lucifer demands,” He sneers out the word, “That I return to Lust after I give you these items. Which is fine. I got a call from Jesse. Apparently, the person I left in charge has been asking the workers to build a gold statue in his likeness.” Asmodeus sighs. “I fucking swear! Charlie?” He pulls his niece out of his shirt. “I have to go. I wish I could have spent more time with you, but I have to go. I love you so much, Candy Apple.” He gives his niece a kiss on the cheek.

         “Love you too, Uncle Ozzie!” Charlie gives the demon prince a big hug.

         They follow Asmodeus and Fizzarolli out to their limo. Asmodeus waves before getting inside. He sticks his primary head out the window. “And tell your daddy if he ever bites me again, I’ll snatch his little goblin ass bald! Okay, bye! See you Monday, Angel! Come in at 9:30 and we’ll get started on your paperwork.”

         Angel Dust waves as the limo drives away. “Holy shit!” Angel gushes. He grabs Husk by the shoulders and shakes him. “Holy shit! I can’t believe this! I got a job, Husky! An actual job! A job that I’m not forced to do. Working for a guy who lets me keep my earnings instead of taking a huge cut. I-I-I…”

         “Deep breaths, Angel,” Husk soothes. He rubs the spider demon’s shoulders. “Deep breaths.” He smiles. “I’m happy for you, baby.”

         “Thanks,” He kisses Husk on the forehead. He looks over at Charlie who has faceplanted on the grass. “Let’s get her inside.”

Chapter Text

  The Hazbin Hotel celebrates Angel Dust’s new job. Niffty makes an extra special dinner. Vaggie even allows Husk to go buy some bottles of real alcohol, a job the winged cat demon takes with the utmost seriousness. Charlie even suggests that Angel invites Cherri Bomb to celebrate the good news despite knowing that doing so means the night will most likely end in a fire or explosion.

         “It’s a special occasion,” Charlie says while Vaggie goes to make sure all the fire extinguishers are within grabbing distance.

         Vox had planned to be gone, but Alastor manages to convince the Media Overlord to stay for dinner.

As a favor to Angel, of course.

The TV Demon hesitates, but finally agrees and it delights Alastor.

         When Cherri Bomb arrives, both Charlie and Vaggie give her a hug. There’s a look of confusion on the cyclopic demoness’s face for just a moment. “Ohh,” she says and grins slyly. “You two trying to give me a pat down? Trying to see if I got any explosives on me? Well, relax. I’m not going to ruin my boy’s special dinner.” Cherri bares her teeth in a grin. “Besides, I can make anything flammable. Anything. Oh! Hey look, it's Fat Nuggets! Aw! Angel put you in a bowtie! So cute!” She moves away from Vaggie and Charlie who stand there frozen as hundreds of worst-case scenarios play in their heads.

         Alastor considers the group gathered as he eats. Cherri Bomb regales them with a story about a Sinner she had a fight with the other day who dared to encroach on her territory. Vox laughs as she describes the colorful and impressively violent way she fed the demon his own leg. The deer demon’s smile softens. There’s something about seeing the TV Demon happy that puts him at ease. He’s not quite sure what it is. Alastor wants to believe that it’s simply friendship, but as time progresses the deer demon has come to realize that it’s something more.

         He’s just not sure what that something is.

         Alastor’s not a fan of not being in the know, especially when it involves him personally.

         This wouldn’t do. He’s getting lost in his head. Tonight’s supposed to be about fun and here he is ruminating over mysterious feelings.

         “Who wants to hear a joke?” Alastor says. He grins when everyone, excluding Vox, groans. “That’s a yes if I’ve ever heard it.” He summons his microphone and gives it a tap. “Ahem!”

         “Alastor,” Vaggie puts her head in hands. “Please! I beseech you!”

         “So, a guy says he needs he a boat. Needs it big enough to carry two of every animal. I tell him, I noah guy.” Alastor relishes the groans. “Did you hear about the man who tried to sue an airport for losing his luggage? Sadly, he lost his case.”

         That actually gets a snort from Vox. “I hadn’t heard that one,” the TV Demon comments. He grins at Alastor. “Did you hear about the guy who accidentally swallowed some food coloring? The doctor said he was fine, but he swears it feels like he’s dyed a little on the inside.”

         A hush falls over the dining room.

         Alastor’s eyes grow wide.

         Oh.

         Oh yes!

         “Oh no,” Vaggie whispers in horror. “There’s two of them.”

         “That’s a good one,” Alastor says. His eyes sparkle. “Have you met the fellow who collects candy canes?”

         Vox pretends to think about it. “Can’t say I have. Are they any good?”

         “You bet! They’re mint condition!” Alastor answers, grinning from ear to ear.

         “Did you hear about the man who got a disease that made him forget the word for the place they keep airplanes?”

         Alastor puts a hand on his chest. “Goodness! Any news?”

         “He passed away.” Vox shakes his head mournfully. “I’m afraid it was terminal.”

         Alastor wants to sing. He wants to dance. He stands from his seat and leans over his plate, holding the microphone to his mouth. He has eyes for Vox and only Vox.

         “What is happening?” Cherri whispers to Angel.

         “I have no idea,” Angel whispers back.

         “Vox, tell me. Did you hear about the aquatic mammals that escaped from the zoo? It was otter chaos!”

         “That sounds pretty bad. Almost as bad as the restaurant on the moon.”

         “Restaurant on the moon?” Alastor repeats, already liking where this is going. He’s never had someone to set up jokes with and the deer demon wants more.

         “A restaurant on the moon,” Vox confirms. “Between you and me, I’ve heard the food’s good, but it has no atmosphere!”

         “Guys, please!” Charlie waves her arms. “No more! Uncle! We give!”

         “Aw c’mon, Charlie one more,” Vox begs. “This is a long one so bear with me,” he clears his throat:

         “So, there’s a guy on trial for killing a bunch of people with a train. Real sick sonuvabitch. The case is open and shut. Jury finds him guilty, and he gets the death penalty. He’s sentenced to die by electric chair. So, as is the case, the guards ask him what he wants for his last meal and the guy says he wants a single banana. Guards are like, ‘Well, that’s weird but ok,’ and they give him his banana. They take him to the chair, strap him in, and pull the lever. Nothing happens. Well, there’s a loophole that because he technically followed through with his sentence, he's free to go. What does this fucker do? He hijacks another train and kills even more people! Back to prison for this fucker. Guards ask him what he wants for his last meal. Again, he says, ‘I want a single banana’ and they’re weirded out, but they give it to him. He gets taken to the chair. Lever gets pulled. Again, nothing happens. The families of the victims are furious. The public is furious. They still have to let him go.

         “So, he leaves the prison and fucking steals another train! He kills even more people! The guards are suspicious. They must do something. They know it. The public is just fucking frothing. Well, when the time comes again the guards tell him to go fuck himself. He’s not getting his banana. They strap him to the chair and are confident that this time they got this sick bastard. They pull the switch, and nothing happens. The guard holding the lever slaps his forehead and goes, ‘I get it! This whole time he’s just been a bad conductor!’”

         “Boo!” Angel Dust says. He grabs a dinner roll and lobs it Vox. “Booo!”

         Vox laughs and shields himself from the flying bread. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad!”

         Husk has been silent for most of the dinner. It’s how he deals with things and situations that make him happy. He basks in them. Husk is all too familiar with how fragile good times can be and he stays silent in fear that one wrong word can shatter a happy occasion like sugar glass. That doesn’t mean he isn’t aware. No, he’s seeing it all.

         Perhaps that’s why it’s most appropriate that he’s the one who sees Alastor’s reaction to Vox’s terrible joke.

         Husk sees the Radio Demon’s face soften as he looks at Vox. Husk recognizes that expression on Alastor’s face. It’s the face of a man who has found someone or something he wants to cherish.

         Husk sips his drink and keeps watching.

         It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion.

The others don’t see. They’re too busy groaning at Vox. They don’t see Alastor’s back suddenly straighten, his eyes going as wide as saucers, his mouth falling a little slack. The deer demon’s eyes lower to the table, looking left then right in a rapid fashion. His fingers grip the tablecloth, and his chest rises and falls with increased breaths. The panic seems to be setting in.

         Husk sends Angel a covert text under the table:

And boom goes the dynamite.

         Angel reads the text and shoots Husk a questioning look. The winged cat demon responds by cutting his eyes in Alastor’s direction. The spider demon looks at Alastor’s panicked face and grins. “Something wrong, Alastor,” Angel asks sweetly.

         “Ha!” Alastor manages to squeak out. “Ha! I’m fine! I just—” he drums his fingers on the table. By now the others are looking at him. Vox is looking at him and the sight of him sucks the air out of the room.

         He needs to get away.

         Oh, fuck. He needs to get away!

         Alastor stands so abruptly that his chair falls back and hits the floor with a loud smack. He murmurs an excuse and stumbles for the stairs.

         Husk watches him leave with the smuggest smile to ever grace his feline face. “Great dinner,” he comments to Niffty who’d been watching Alastor’s retreating form in concern. “Real memorable.”

         In the safety of his room, Alastor tugs at the tie around his neck. He’s worn it for years so does it suddenly feel like a noose. Why can’t he breathe? Why does he feel so hot and sweaty? Is he having a stroke? Can demons even have strokes?

         Why is this happening? One minute everything’s fine! He and Vox were joking around and oh, what fun that was! To have someone set them up and then knock them out of the park! It was amazing! So, what happened?

         Alastor tries to replay the event in his mind. He had taken a seat so he could listen to Vox tell his joke. When Vox had uttered the punchline in the form of that terrible pun that made the others react so violently, Alastor had been overcome with that…feeling. That strange, mysterious, unknowable feeling that had been rearing its head more and more as of late.

         He felt it then when Vox uttered his punchline. Alastor had been filled with a warmth and sweetness. When he looked at Vox’s laughing face, he had been struck with a feeling of—

         Of—

         Fuuuuuuuck.

         “Oh, dear God,” Alastor moans. He clasps his face in his hands as the realization dawns on him. “I think I’m in love with Vox!”

         He whirls around at the sound of slow clapping. His shadow reclines on the couch. It claps mockingly and grins at him.

         “Fuck you!” Alastor snarls. “Who even asked you!” This was a nightmare! He couldn’t be in love with Vox! They were friends! Good friends! Wonderful friends! How could he even think about jeopardizing that?! Was he an idiot?!

         No, no, no, no, no. This couldn’t happen. He couldn’t allow it to happen. The best course of action – no – the logical course of action was to bury these feelings. Bury them deep and never think about them ever again.

         I’m a genius, Alastor thinks and nods to himself. Everyone knows denial is always the best course of action.

         His shadow narrows its eyes. It gives a disappointed shake of its head and phases through the floor.

         “Again,” Alastor snaps. “Who asked you?!”

         The Radio Demon drops into the nearest seat and cradles his head in his hands. What is he to do about this conundrum? Why now?

         There’s a tentative knock on his door and Alastor already knows who stands on the other side. He’s tempted to ignore it but finds himself standing and walking toward the door. He opens it and, of course, there stands Vox. The TV Demon stands there, hands shoved in his pockets as he looks at Alastor. “So,” Vox says in a lighthearted tone. “I’m guessing that last joke was one too many?”

         “On the contrary,” Alastor replies. “I found it spectacular! The way you kept bringing attention to the banana only for the whole thing to end with that glorious pun! Magnificent!”

         Vox leans against the doorframe. “Thanks! It was fun firing off jokes with you. I mean, I don’t think the others appreciated it, but I enjoyed it.”

         “Ah, don’t think too much about those sticks in the mud.” Alastor waves a hand in dismissal. “I’m afraid you’ll find that their funny bones are like disappearing bread dough.”

         Vox’s eyes sparkle with mirth. “Oh? How so?”

         Alastor leans a little closer and purrs, “Never there when they knead it.”

         Vox sputters with laughter and the sound is like music to the deer demon’s ears. Alastor finds himself reaching for Vox but stops himself at the last moment.

         No. No, he mustn’t.

         “Well, I suppose you’ll be going soon,” Alastor comments.

         Vox looks confused by the sudden change of subject, but he nods. “Yeah, I should. I just wanted to check on you after your sudden exit. And I did promise not to leave without saying goodbye.”

         The two stand there in awkward silence.

         “So,” Vox drags out the word. “Goodbye? I’ll keep in contact with Charlie about the details of the party. I was just going to send her the address and whatnot, but I figured we should all show up together. Plus, it saves me from having to rent my own ride.”

         “That sounds good.”

         “Mm-hmm.”

         More awkward silence.

         Vox hooks a thumb over his shoulder and says, “I’m going to go. Bye Alastor.”

         “Goodbye, Vox.” Alastor says softly. He watches the Media Overlord disappear down the stairs and closes the door.

         Downstairs, the other residents are clearing away the remains of the dinner. “Not a bad shindig,” Cherri comments to Angel. “Could’ve done without the spontaneous puns but a free meal is a free meal.”

         “Hey, don’t knock it.” Angel Dust tells her. He shares a look with Husk. “We witnessed a momentous occasion.” The two of them snicker.

         Cherri Bomb looks between them. “What are you two goofs chuckling about?”

         Angel is about to answer when Vox comes breezing past. “You leaving, Vox?”

         The TV Demon stops. “Yeah, yeah,” he says airily. “Need to get back to my tower. Have you seen Vark? I need to wrestle his leash on him.”

         “I saw him and Nuggs in the tv room. Hey, before you go,” Angel calls out. “How was Al? He kinda bolted from the table. Is he okay?”

         A look of uncertainty crosses Vox’s face before he answers, “Yeah, he’s fine. Well, he said he was fine. But he…” Vox stops. He shrugs. “Right. TV room. I should go.”

         Husk chuckles and shakes his head. “Couple of dumbasses,” he says not unkindly.

         Cherri puts her hands on her hips. “Okay, fuckers. What’s that about?”

         “Let’s just say there’s a reason behind Alastor’s earlier freakout,” Husk tells her. “The eagle has finally landed.”

         Vaggie’s head snaps in his direction. “Oh shit,” she whispers. “Are you for real?”

         Husk nods. Vaggie sighs with relief. “Fucking finally.”

         Angel looks her up and down. “And here I was thinking you weren’t invested.”

         “I’m not,” Vaggie protests and blushes. “L-look, it’s just getting fucking exhausting watching those two.”

         “Well, don’t get your hopes up,” Husk interjects. He’s about to say more when Vark comes running by the door, dragging a screaming Vox behind him. “Bye Vox! See you later! Niffty open the door for Vox and Vark! Where was I? Oh right. Don’t get your hopes up. Alastor’s just at the point of realizing what he’s been feeling this entire time. Now comes the hard part.”

         “Which is?” Vaggie presses.

         “Getting him to act on it.” Husk shrugs. “He’s in new, unfamiliar territory.”

         Cherri rolls her eye. “Okay. Well, this sounds a little too sitcom-y for my tastes so I’m gonna bounce. Angel Dust, congrats on the new job and for getting away from that fucker Valentino. Not sure how you did that, but congrats all the same.” She gives him a smile.

         “Thanks, babe,” Angel grins. “Hey, do you need a ride back to your place? Maybe I can get Charlie to—”

         “At last!” Sir Pentious slithers his way into the room. He sneers at the gathered group before pointing dramatically at Cherri Bomb. “Fool! Did you think I wouldn’t find you?! Don’t insssult my intelligence! I, the Great and Brilliant Sir Pentious knew you would be here! You and that foppish spider demon! You think you can detonate multiple explosions over my factory and jussst get away with it?!”

         “Oh shit,” Cherri snickers. “I totally forgot about that.” She looks at Angel and grins. “I had some time to kill before I came here, so I paid a visit to Edgelord.”

         “You knocked down one of my walls,” Pentious screeches. “I demand sssatisfaction!”

         “How did you even get in here?” Vaggie demands.

         “I ingeniously skirted past a demon shark dragging a tv-headed gentleman as he was pulled through your front door,” Sir Pentious exclaims. His tongue flicks in Cherri’s direction. “You! You have been a thorn in my side for far too long! I demand that you—” Cherri yanks down her blouse and the sight of her bare breasts causes Sir Pentious’ brain to seemingly malfunction. The Sinner’s various eyes focus on the sight before him. “Buuh?”

         Cherri pulls her shirt back up. “Sorry, you were just going on for way too long,” she grabs a dinner roll and starts pulling it apart and popping the pieces into her mouth. “And for your information, I only blew up your dumb factory wall because it’s the only way to get you to come outside when you’ve got a new project. You come here in your blimp? Mind giving me a lift back to my place?” Sir Pentious nods mutely. Cherri gives his cheek a pat. “Aw, thanks! Let’s go. Bye Angel! Catch ya later!” She saunters out of the room, followed closely by Sir Pentious.

         Husk looks at Angel Dust. The spider demon rolls his eyes. “I told her not sleep with him. But she was all, ‘wouldn’t it be hilarious if I ironically fucked him?’ and I was like, ‘Cherri how do you ironically fuck someone’ and now she’s got that needy weirdo sniffing around her and—” Angel pauses. Seems to think about something. He shrugs. “Honestly, they kinda work. I mean, once you get past the fact she keeps blowing up his stuff and their occasional turf battles.” He shrugs again.

         Husk lets out a raspy laugh. “Well, I guess love is in the air all over Hell, huh?”

         “Yeah, I dunno if what those two have is love, Husky. It’s weird, but it’s consensual and they’re having fun. Especially Cherri. So, I say more power to her.”

         Husk shakes his head but says nothing. It’s an odd match, but who is he to judge? From the outsider’s point of view, he and Angel could be considered an odd match and look how happy they are. He looks up at the ceiling. “I guess one of us should go check on Alastor. 1-2-3 not it!”

         “Not it,” Angel Dust shouts.

         Vaggie, who had been spooning leftover green bean casserole into a container looks up. “What are you—oh, goddammit! Fine!” she tosses down the spoon. “I’ll go check on Alastor, but for the record it’s totally unfair to do that when I’m not paying attention.”

         “What are you talking about, Vaggie?” Husk says with a grin. “That’s the best time to do it.”

         “You’re both assholes!”

         “Love you,” Angel Dust waves.

Alastor lies on his sofa and stares up at the ceiling. The Radio Demon finds himself at a loss. His initial plan to just ignore these new and unfamiliar feelings for Vox seems like a good idea on paper, but the more he thinks on it…

His thoughts get interrupted by a knock on the door. He sighs. “I find myself to be the pinnacle of popularity these days,” he mutters. He swirls a finger and the door unlocks. “Enter,” he calls.

“Alastor?”

“Ah, Vagatha,” the deer demon refuses to look at her. “To what do I owe this wholly unwelcome intrusion?”

“I was coming to check on you.”

“I see. Why?”

“Well, you left in such a hurry and—”

“The others want gossip?”

He hears Vaggie sigh. “No, Alastor. We do care about you and worry about your well-being despite how very hard you make it to do so.”

That makes him chuckle. “Well, I appreciate you taking the time to see if I’m alright. You’ve done your duty so you may go.”

“Alastor…”

“Please, Vaggie. I’m just not in the mood.” He suddenly feels very tired.

Vaggie must hear it as well because she makes a surprising offer. “Would you like me to call Mimzy?”

Alastor rolls over and stares at her, shocked. He’s well aware of the animosity that the others feel toward his dear Mimzy (he doesn’t understand it because Mimzy is just so lovely) so for Vaggie to offer to call the other demoness and voluntarily welcome her into the Hotel?

Alastor narrows his eyes, suspicious. “Do you think I’m dying?”

Vaggie actually laughs at that. “No, you clown. I just think you’re going through something, and I think you might be able to handle it better with Mimzy here. Would you like me to call her?”

         Alastor thinks about it. He shakes his head. “I just need rest, but I thank you for the offer.”

         Vaggie gives him a nod. She gently closes the door and leaves the Radio Demon alone with his thoughts.

         The next day, Alastor comes to decision. Is it a smart decision? Maybe not, but the Alastor decides to do it anyway.

The day after that finds Alastor sitting in his room. He asks not to be disturbed. Vox wasn’t going to be at the hotel that day. He had a meeting he couldn’t out of lest he risk the wrath of Vesta and Briar.

         His shadow hands him a fresh piece of fabric.

         “Thank you,” Alastor mumbles. His eyes and fingers ache from sewing, but this needs to be done. He spent so much money hiring those I.M.P. to pick up the supplies he needed and even more money procuring this fabric.

         He slides the completed work to the side.

         There’s a knock on his front door and Alastor’s eyes narrow with irritation. What part of “don’t disturb me” didn’t these fools understand? He ignores the knocking and keeps working. When he hears his shadow trill, he looks up. “Don’t,” he orders.

         The shadow tilts its head. It smirks. It glides away.

         Alastor drops his head on his desk. Why does he even bother?

         His doppelganger reappears holding the hand of Vox. Alastor’s eyes go wide and sweeps the items on his desk to the floor.

         Vox frowns as he eyes the pile. “So,” he says as he plops into a chair. “I know you got a basic understanding of tech, but I thought maybe I should inform of you something for future reference.” Vox leans forward and studies Alastor. “Al, just because I no longer have you flagged in my security as a threat, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t see you on the cameras.” He tilts his head, and his face shows a symbol and shadow covered form moving through Vox’s bedroom and rummaging through his closet. The form opens a portal and begins throwing things through it. “Which I did. Soooo. Wanna tell me why you were stealing my clothes?”

         Alastor laughs. “Vox, this is such a big misunderstanding. I wasn’t stealing your clothing!”

         “Really?” Vox glances to the spot where Alastor shoved the stuff onto the floor. “So that’s not a bunch of my coats and shirts?”

         Alastor’s face reddens. “I can explain.”

         “Please do.”

         Alastor sighs. “I meant for it to be a secret,” he murmurs. “Or at the very least I thought you wouldn’t discover them until much later…” He sighs again and picks one of his completed works.

         Vox eyes it. “You stole my clothes to make these little baggies?”

         “It's gris-gris. I…” Alastor stops. He looks away in embarrassment.  “This particular gris-gris bag contains a mixture of Irish moss, sandalwood and elm bark.” He picks up another. “This one contains iron fillings, a pearl, rue, and guinea pepper.” He sees Vox’s eyes grow wide, but he doesn’t stop. Best to power through. “This one contains aniseed, Angelica root, and sandalwood.”

         “Alastor…”

         “This one has sandalwood, yarrow, and rue. This one has peppermint, elm bark, and Irish moss.”

         “Alastor!”

         The deer demon stops speaking but can’t bring himself to look at the other Overlord.

         “Alastor,” Vox says gently. “What are these for?”

         Alastor assumes his face is as red as his hair. “I…well, I came to the realization that it’s very unrealistic to believe that I could be at your side at all hours of the day. We lead separate lives. We have duties and jobs that need doing and we can’t put them on hold.” He rubs at his ear. “Still, I couldn’t let myself forget what Valentino did to you and how I was powerless to do anything about it. I’m still powerless,” he mutters. “It would be so easy to assign a shadow doll to you or a haint, but I know I can’t! Too much outward interference on my part would endanger you even further! So…” he jiggles the bag. “I made you these. Gris-gris for protection. I had planned to secretly stitch them into your coat, but then I realized that you wouldn’t wear the same outfit every day. Then I realized that Angel Dust would be going to an entirely different Ring where my name wouldn’t hold as much sway so he would need extra protection too.” Alastor shakes his head. He stands up and goes over to his bed and pulls out a large duffel bag. He unzips and shows it to Vox. “I had to pay a pretty penny to a trio of Imps to get these from the Living World. I was afraid that the plants and herbs grown down here would taint the workings. I couldn’t risk it.”

         Vox’s jaw drops. “So, your plan was to sew these bags into my clothes, hope I never found out, and what?”

         “Well, if they work as planned, they’ll protect you.” Alastor grimaces. “To be honest, my mother had more experience with the healing and protection part of Vodou. It was very awkward asking favors from Annie Christmas and Maman Brigitte, but here’s hoping the offerings of rum and oat cakes please them enough to forget my indiscretions.”

         “Alastor, I’m so fucking lost.”

         The Radio Demon scratches the back of his head. It was very difficult putting this in simpler terms. “I want to protect you,” he says. “I need to protect you. You and Angel,” he amends. “I just realize that short of following you around everywhere that’s impossible. So, I borrowed your clothes with the foolish idea that I would use protection magic. And healing,” he adds holding up yet another baggie. “Carnations, magnolia, and yew. The magnolia’s for cleansing of negative influences.”

         Vox blinks. He looks from Alastor to the gris gris bag in his hand to the pile of clothes strewn over the floor. “How much did this set you back?”

         “Monetarily? It wasn’t petty change, but it’s nothing I can’t recoup,” Alastor assures him. “I’m afraid the real cost came at the expense of my dignity.”

         “What? Did those Imps give you trouble?”

         “Them? No, no, no. As I said, my mother and her side of the family had a closer relationship with the loas and Goddesses when they did their workings. My grandmother and mother always knew what offerings to give to whom, what herbs and roots you needed when doing a specific working, and who you needed to seek out. I, on the other hand, focused more on the darker aspects. That’s not to say that there are true dark aspects of Vodou. No, that’s just stereotypes and fiddle faddle spouted by people who fear—” he sees the look on Vox’s face. “Apologies. I’m babbling. Look, let’s just say I did the magical equivalent of showing up to an estranged family member’s home and asking for a large sum of money.” He shrugs.

         “Well,” Vox says after a while. “Thank you. You went through a lot of trouble to do this.” He eyes the duffel bag. “A lot of trouble.”

         “I want you safe,” Alastor says firmly. “You’re very dear to me.”

         A strange look passes over Vox’s face and the TV Demon averts his eyes. He fiddles with the buttons on his coat. “So, those…Goddesses, I guess? Any specific reason you chose them?”

         Alastor looks embarrassed. “My mother dealt more with female loas and Goddesses when she worked. She used to say that she had her fill of listening to the words of men. ‘My spirit craves a break,’ she would say. I chose those patrons because they are the ones I could remember. Maman Brigitte: protector of the Dead and wife of Baron Samedi. Chosen for obvious reasons. Annie Christmas: pillar of strength said to be as untamable as the Mississippi River. I made that specific gris-gris with her in mind. The one with the iron fillings and pearl. She’ll bring you strength and victory over your enemies as long as you carry it.”

         Vox nods. He goes over to pile of clothes and selects a coat. “Is this one done?”

         Alastor walks back over. He takes the coat from Vox and runs a finger along the lining, near the collar. “Yes,” he says. “This is one of the ones I’ve completed.”

         Vox nods again. He slips off the coat he’s wearing and switches it out for the protected coat. “What could it hurt,” he says and smiles. “Thanks, Alastor. It really means a lot to me.”

         Alastor’s smile brightens. “Think nothing of it. If anything, getting the gris gris into your clothes was easier.” He suddenly looks exhausted. “For a man living on a budget, Angel Dust’s wardrobe is extensive. I might need more supplies.”

         “Well, if you think about it, you kinda only need to worry about sewing a bag into whatever work unform he gets,” Vox points out. “Anything else can wait. At least for the time being.”

         Alastor thinks about that and realizes that Vox is right. “Well, that’s a load off my back. You there,” he points at his shadow. “Locate my needle under all of that. Don’t give me that look. You’re the reason I had to dump everything on the floor.”

         The shadow growls but does what Alastor asks, for once. It’s a nice change of pace.

         Vox readjusts his collar. “Well, I should get back before Vesta and Briar notice I’m missing. I told them I was running to the bathroom, and I think it’s been long enough that they’ve probably realized it was lie.” He pops his neck. “I need to get back before Vesta flies into a rage. Last time she went for people’s necks. Had to send so many apology fruit baskets to our investors and the cleaning staff. So much blood.” He looks at his clothes. “I have to ask, are you…?”

         Alastor holds up a hand. “I will have your garments returned to their proper place. Don’t worry.”

         Vox nods. “I’ll see you later, Alastor and thanks.” He puts an arm around the deer demon’s shoulders. “For caring enough to commit breaking and entering to steal my clothes for your Vodou ritual.”

         “Ah, but it’s not technically ‘breaking and entering’ if I use a portal.”

         Vox lets out a little laugh at that. “Sure, I guess that’s true. I’ll see you later, Alastor.”

         Alastor nods. “See you later, Vox.” The Radio Demon returns to his chair, humming a song. He holds out his hand and his doppelganger places the needle in his palm. “Thank you. You’re being strangely obedient,” Alastor can’t help but comment. He stops and turns to scrutinize his shadow. “What do you want?”

         His shadow trills and clicks.

         Alastor rolls his eyes. “Fine. You may go and see Vox’s shadow. The fact that you’re asking my permission makes me worried. Like you’re trying to secure an alibi.”

         His doppelganger’s smile widens, and it does nothing to alleviate his worry. The doppelganger curls around him like smoke and laughs. Alastor chuckles. “You’re right. Who am I to talk you out of causing chaos? The denizens of Hell get so complacent before and after a Cleansing. Keep them on their toes.”

         His shadow nods and slides through the floor.

         Alastor finishes the last of additions to Vox’s clothing. He picks up a shirt and rubs the fabric of the shirt between his fingers. It’s an odd shirt. White, short-sleeved, and decorated with black flowers. Odd. Well, who was he to question fashion? He summons shadow dolls. They grin and chitter in assignment, running around the room until he snaps his fingers to get their attention. “We will be returning these,” he gestures at the clothes. “Neatly and orderly.” Alastor picks an armful of clothing, opens a portal, and steps through. Alastor closes his eyes and listens. No sounds coming from Vox’s floor. That’s not surprising. He’s probably on the floor with the meeting room. Alastor’s almost tempted to teleport downstairs just to make an appearance but suppresses the urge. Vox is far too busy to deal with his foolishness. Let the man work. Alastor hums to himself and runs a finger along the kitchen island. He opens Vox’s fridge and looks inside. The sight of many cans of Joltz lining the shelves. He opens the produce and meat drawers and—

 Really, Vox?

More cans of Joltz stuffed inside.

         “We’re going to have to have a serious talk, you and I,” Alastor murmurs. He sighs. He goes to the cabinets and opens them. Fresh boxes of Voot Floops from top to bottom. “Dear God.” Where was this man’s actual food? Alastor’s jaw clenches as he closes the doors. He remembers Vesta’s comment about Vox needing to eat a salad every once in a while, and how at the time he had considered it to be just colorful banter. Now…

         Vox, how the fuck are you alive?

         Alastor feels a tug on his pants leg and looks down. One of his moppets stares up at him. Oh, right. The clothes. “Yes, yes.” Alastor says. “Let’s go.” He walks into Vox’s bedroom. The deer demon finds his gaze drifting to Vox’s bed. The bed is perfectly made. The coverings are as dark as the rest of the décor of the Media Overlord’s penthouse. Alastor never really got a good look at Vox’s room before. He was always in a hurry. The first thing the Radio Demon notices is how cold it feels.

Like Vox barely spends any time in here…

         Alastor rubs the side of his face, suddenly uncomfortable. He goes over to a bedside table and opens a drawer. Condoms, batteries, mints, candy, pens, and a planner. Alastor considers the planner. It’s not from this year so would it really be so bad if he…?

         Alastor picks up the planner and flips through the pages. As he reads, Alastor’s eyes grow wider and wider at the sheer amount of things Vox has filling his days (and nights in some cases). Alastor will give him this, Vox is quite organized, but he supposes that he has to be. There’s a ledger in corner of the pages. Items written in red are social events. Blue is work related. Green he uses for appearances. Pink is used for…

         Valentino.

         Alastor’s lip curls. His eyes burn at the sight of that hateful name scrawled with such affection. Vox has doodled little hearts and smiling faces next to the days he’s set aside to see his former lover. Alastor notices that there are occasions where days Vox has plans to meet with Valentino that are angrily scratched out. Those must be after breakups.

         Alastor harrumphs and slides the planner back into the drawer. He glances over to the moppets and curses. “No, no, no! What are you doing? Don’t just leave them on the floor! You’re going to wrinkle them! They have hangers!” he sighs. “I should think about making taller summons,” he mutters. “Honestly…” He stoops and picks up the clothes. He brushes them off and puts them where they’re supposed to go. He now suspects his shadow wandered off to avoid doing this extra work.

         “Fucking…royal boon…” Alastor seethes.

         It takes longer than he’d liked but they get the clothes back in place. “Well, let’s go.” Alastor walks out of Vox’s room, sparing it one more glance.

         “Well, this is unexpected.” Vesta stands with her hands on her hips in front of Alastor’s portal. “When Vox’s security went off about having numerous intruders in his penthouse, I never expected you and your…what the fuck are those? Dolls?”

         “Some of them,” Alastor says. He points to the ones to his left. “Those are moppets.”

         “What’s the difference?”

         “Size mostly. Moppets tend to run a little larger,” the Radio Demon explains. “Around the size of toddlers.” He places a hand on the head of one and gives it an affectionate pat.

         Vesta frowns. Her phone chimes. She pulls it from her clutch and looks down at it. “Vox says he’ll be here in a second (even though I told him I had it handled) so you stay put, Mister Man.”

         Alastor bows and takes a seat on the couch.

         Vox wastes no time. He takes a look at Alastor then takes a look at the shadow dolls and moppets milling about. He sighs, “Alastor.”

         “What? I told you I would be putting your clothes back once I finished with them and I did.”

         Vesta tilts her head. “And why did he have your clothes?”

         “I was doing some alterations,” Alastor tells her. “Small little bits and bops. Nothing to worry about.” He looks at Vox. “I didn’t pull you away from a meeting, did I? I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. I know how important your work is.”

         Vox looks like he wants to be annoyed but he can’t manage. “Nah. Truth be told, that meeting’s a wash.” He pulls out a cigarette and lights it. “That guy’s not bringing anything to the table worth writing home about, but he’s expecting us to practically offer our first born! I was this close to just ripping off his jaw.”

         “I can get Bri to give ’im the boot,” Vesta offers. She holds up her phone.

         Vox grumbles and rubs a hand along his face. He considers it but waves a hand. “Nah. Let’s be professionals. Get back in there and professionally tell that guy to take his offer and shove it.”

         “Perhaps,” Alastor pipes up. “Perhaps you can break early and join me for lunch. I have the feeling you haven’t had a good meal recently.”

         Vox blinks, confused. Vesta looks between Vox and Alastor. “What’s he talking about?”

         Vox coughs. “It’s not important,” he says with a laugh. He gives the Radio Demon a slight shake of his head.

         Alastor narrows his eyes. “Vesta, perhaps you should grab Vox a snack from his icebox? He looks peckish.”

         “That’s not necessary, Vesta!” the TV-headed demon shouts. “I’m good! Really!”

         Vesta moves over to the fridge and opens it. She goes silent as she looks at the contents. Alastor sees her kneel and yank open drawers. She closes the drawers, stands upright, and takes a deep breath through her nose as she closes the door. Vesta turns and stares at Vox. “Vox, what the fuck?”

         “Listen…”

         “No. No, shut up. Where’s your fucking food, Vox? Where’s the fucking items you need to sustain yourself, Vox?” Vox opens his mouth and Alastor swears he sees Vesta’s fangs extend. “And if you say that’s what the Joltz are for, I will pick up that entire fridge and toss it out the fucking window!”

         Vox falls quiet.

         Vesta runs a hand over her face. She stands there for a minute. “Okay,” Vesta takes out her phone. “I’m ordering you a mini fridge. That’s where you’ll keep your Joltz from now on. This fridge? This one right here? The pretty one with the double doors? Yeah, this is for food. Juice, bottled water, and milk are the only fucking liquids that need to be stored in here.”

         “For Christ sakes, Vesta,” Vox snaps. “I’m not a goddamned child!”

         “And yet here I am having to make sure you got fucking food in your apartment!” Vesta snaps back. “Swear to fuck!”

         Vox gives a sidelong glance to Alastor. He moves a little closer to whisper. “Don’t stand there smirking!” Vox hisses, “I don’t appreciate being tattled on!”

         Alastor holds Vox’s gaze. “I don’t know how you expected me to react when I saw that,” he replies coolly. “You need to take better care of yourself. That starts by actually having a meal.”

         “I have meals!” Vox rolls his eyes. “You know how many lunch meetings and dinner parties I go to? Why would I bother with cooking? Any time I am home, I just order out. It just makes sense.” The Media Overlord sees the look on the Radio Demon’s face. “What?”

         Alastor doesn’t reply, just makes several notes in his head.

         “Right,” Vesta says. “I’ve ordered you some groceries. They’re set for delivery. So, we need to make some space before they arrive.” When Vox grumbles, she snaps, “Or I can just pour them all out!”

         “Don’t you fucking dare! That’s my fucking lifeblood! I wouldn’t survive most mornings without a can!”

         Vesta rubs her temples. “Just get some of the cans out. I’m going to go have a word with Fuckface Magee downstairs. Before I do so, I just wanna be sure. We’re not accepting his business?”

         “Of course not,” Vox tells her. “His idea is shit and we’d end up losing money. Give him the boot. Hard, if he makes a stink.”

         Vesta nods. Once she’s gone, Vox looks over at Alastor. He sighs. “Have a seat, Al. We need to talk.”

         Alastor does as he’s told. “Would you like me to have the dolls unstock your fridge?”

         Vox waves a hand. “Sure. Thanks.” He takes a seat on the couch. “I can’t believe you told Vesta I didn’t have any food in my fridge.”

         “I can’t believe you didn’t have any food in your fridge.”

         Vox huffs. “I already explained that. I’m always out! It literally makes no sense to—”

         Alastor holds up a hand. “About that. Perhaps we need to find a way for you to have a healthier work-life balance.”

         Vox laughs. “Right. And how am I supposed to do that? You can’t run a goddamned media empire without putting in the hours. You know how bad it was when I got back after disappearing for so long?”

         “You didn’t disappear! You were healing. You were attacked and left for dead.”

         Vox looks away. “Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t change anything. I was away. Production grinded to a fucking halt. Vesta and Briar were right. They had to put out some fires while I was gone and I—” he stops. “I’m just—”

         Alastor stands and moves to sit next to Vox. He puts an arm around the TV Demon’s shoulders but decides at the last minute to pull him into a full hug. “I wish I knew how to help you,” he murmurs. “You take on too much. You give you too much. I wish there was a way for you to share your load. Can’t you hire people? Vesta and Briar seem competent. What if you found other Vesta’s and Briar’s?” He feels Vox shake and he looks down.

         Vox sit back and wipes a tear from out of the corner of his eye. “Sorry, I was just imagining a room full of Vesta’s and Briar’s and all of them trying to fight for supremacy.” He chuckles. “Well, I can’t deny that your idea has merit. It’s very tempting. If I could have people I could trust to keep things running in my absence, I would feel comfortable actually…being absent.” He rubs his neck. “It would be nice to take a trip for some reason other than business.”

         “Are you saying you’ve never taken a vacation?”

         Vox shrugs. “Val and I used to go on trips, but it was work for me and pleasure for him. I never really…” he shrugs again. He suddenly smiles. “But,” Vox says. “That was the old way of doing things. Right? I remember toasting to a new lease on life.”

         “That’s right,” Alastor agrees. He spreads his arms. “How can you enjoy a life away from Valentino if you’re not truly enjoying life?” Hmm. That sounded better in my head. “What I mean is—”

         Vox holds up a hand, cutting him off. “I know what you meant.” He leans his head and stares up at the ceiling. “It’s going to be weird.”

         “What’s going to be weird?” Vesta returns. The lower half of her face is covered with blood.

         “What happened to you?” Vox asks, sitting up.

         Vesta shrugs. “Mr. Fuckface Magee disagreed with my honest assessment about his offer. He refused to leave, and I told him if he didn’t I’d rip out his throat. He called me a stupid fat cunt and well…” She makes a what-can-you-do gesture.

         Vox snorts. “Where’s the body?”

         “Briar’s taking care of it. Making a special delivery to the Cannibal Colony border.” Vesta folds her arms across her chest. “Before you say anything, I already got the cleaners on the way. They’ll get the board room nice and sparkly.”

         Vox salutes. “You’re a gem, Vesta.”

         “And don’t you forget it.” The demoness pats her hair. “So, what were you boys talking about before I got here?”

         “Vox was just considering the possibility of hiring some extra hands,” Alastor says before Vox can say otherwise.

         An exclamation point appears above Vesta’s head. She quickly swats it away like it’s a bothersome insect. “Sorry! You just caught me by surprise. I’d never thought I’d live the day when this mook wants to take on less work.”

         Vox makes a face. “Excuse me for wanting to make sure shit gets done,” he mumbles. He sighs. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to delegate some shit to other people.”

         Vesta grins at Alastor. “You really are a good influence on him. Who woulda thought? Never in a million years would I have ever thought the Radio Demon would ever—”

         Vox cuts his eyes at Vesta. He gives a quick shake of his head. Vesta holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Put out some feelers,” Vox orders.

         “Will do.” Vesta turns to leave. She stops and gives the two of them a long look. “You know…I can’t really expect you to just cook a meal tonight. So, why don’t I just order you two a nice dinner? The two of you can just sit and…talk.”

         Alastor’s cheeks redden. Vox’s back goes ramrod straight. “Thank you, Vesta for your…kind offer,” the TV Demon bites out. “But I’m sure Alastor has other things he needs to do. And so do I. There’s still that party and the commercial.” Vesta gives him a look. “But I’ll make sure to order myself dinner,” he says to appease her.

         “An actual dinner,” she tells him. “Swear to my fucking mother, if I come back and see some fucking WacDonald’s bags littering the place I will be so pissed!”

         “You’re always fucking pissed, Vesta. Sometimes I think it’s your default state.”

         Vesta opens her mouth to tear into Vox, but Alastor raises a hand. “Now, Vox. Ms. Inquewelle is simply worried about you. And you’ve given her many reasons to do so.”

         “Alastor, listen.” Vox starts to say then stops. He looks around suddenly. “Where did your dolls go?”

         Alastor’s mouth falls slack. Shit. He looks around.

Double shit.

“Did you un-summon them?”

He had not.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Alastor says with a laugh. “I’m sure it’s all fine.” He gets to his feet. He checks Vox’s bedroom first and smothers down a curse. His moppets and dolls are wearing Vox’s clothes. They model their oversized outfits, posing and giggling. They stop when they see Alastor. “I am livid,” he hisses. “Take those off now. Put them back on the hangers, and leave them on the bed. When you’ve finished, go through the portal. I will deal with you when I get back. Hurry up.”

Alastor turns back around and pinches the bridge of his nose. This is why he didn’t summon the shadow dolls and moppets as much as he did his doppelganger. Something about stuffing the souls into the fabric shell made them lose some of their previous intelligence.

He glances back in the direction of Vesta and Vox. The two demons are in the middle of an intense whispered conversation. Alastor clears his throat, loudly to alert them of his presence. They look startled. Or at least Vox looks startled. Vesta looks contemplative. “I’m afraid my dolls were up to mischief. No worries,” he assures them. “They’ll right their wrongs and be on their way. In fact, I should also be on my way. After I ensure that your clothes are put back in their proper place, I mean.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Vox mutters. “I guess I could help. They are my clothes. Vesta, we’ll talk later. Okay?”

Vesta’s pie cut eyes narrow. “Sure thing, Mr. Vox,” she smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodbye, Mr. Alastor. You take care.”

Alastor waves a hand. His dolls and moppets march out and he points toward the open portal. “Move it,” he snarls at them. “Wait for me to return.”

He and Vox work in silence. Vox straightens some of the shirts that the dolls didn’t hang perfectly. Alastor occasionally steals glances at him. He feels as if he should say something. But what should he say?

“Do you have an outfit for the soirée,” Alastor blurts.

Vox glances at him. “Not yet. I mean, I got suits I could wear, but with these things you always need to wear something new.” He shakes his head. “You’re supposed to be showing off your money, after all.”

Alastor nods. The conversation dies again. When the clothes are in their rightful place, Alastor bids Vox a goodnight. The portal closes and the Media Overlord is left alone.

Vox’s shadow floats through the window and chirps at Vox. The TV Demon gives him a wave. “Welcome home,” he tells him. Vox plops down on the couch and his shadow sits next to him. “How was your day?” Vox asks the doppelganger. “You and Shadow Al have fun?”

His shadow chirps and waves his arms, seemingly relaying a story to Vox in a series of trills, clicks, and chirps.

Vox gets none of it, but he smiles nonetheless because he’s happy for the company.

Back in his room, Alastor dismisses the dolls and moppets with more force than necessary. He mutters to himself as he stalks toward his kitchen. There’s a chunk of a demon in his icebox and he takes it out and rips into it. As he chews, Alastor tries to think of something other than Vox and the realization of his newly developed feelings. It doesn’t work.

His shadow reappears but remains near the ceiling out of Alastor’s reach.

That’s never a good sign.

“What did you do?”

His shadow chirrs and moves further away.

“That bad? Well, I’m sure that Vagatha will relay your misdeeds to me later.” Alastor takes another bite of meat. “Until then I will simply enjoy my ignorance.”

         Alastor wakes the next morning and opens his front door with the intent to go downstairs and ste—obtain a carton of juice. He finds Vaggie standing on the other side. The moth demoness slaps a paper against his chest then turns without another word. “And a good morning to you as well, Vagatha!” Alastor calls.

         “Sit on it!”

         Alastor’s eyebrows raise. He opens the paper and scans the headlines.

         Alastor returns to his room. “Why on earth would you even want to rob a bank? What use do you have for money? Explain this to me!”

         His doppelganger trills.

         “You didn’t even want the money?! What did you do with it then?” Alastor keeps reading. “I see. You used it to lure demons into an alley so you could beat and rob them?” the deer demon folds the paper. “Right. Did you leave them alive?” His shadow chirps. “Well, Vaggie and Charlie will be happy about that, at least.” Alastor sighs. “What am I going to do with you?”

         His shadow grins and floats away.

         “Mark my words,” Alastor shouts. “I will find a way to punish you that sticks! Mark my words!”

Chapter Text

The night of the party arrives and the Hazbin Hotel staff and resident stand before the manor’s grand entrance. The party’s being thrown by one Lord and Lady Synestrium, two Hellborn demons. Lord Synestrium was said to be distantly related to a branch of the Goetia family, but the relation was so distant that it didn’t matter. He was obscenely wealthy, willing to flaunt that wealth by throwing lavish parties with good food and where the alcohol flowed freely. In the end that’s the only thing most demons cared about.

Alastor smooths down his tie. The Radio Demon wears trousers and a long overcoat both in the shade of deepest red, paired with a black vest, and a long crimson necktie. The deer demon gently folds a red pocket square and puts it in pocket. Alastor feels like a million dollars and takes a moment to admire how his shoes shine. There’s just something about dressing up that Alastor loves.

“I hate this.”

The Radio Demon sighs. Unfortunately, there were some who don’t share his feelings.

Husk glowers and pulls at his tie. The cat demon has been wrestled into a pair of black trousers with black bracers. He wears a startling white shirt that’s been starched and perfectly pressed. A black tie hangs down from the cat’s neck. They’d manage to wrestle away Husk’s top hat and leave it behind. That had not been an easy battle.

“Husky,” Angel Dust scolds. He walks up and pulls Husk’s tie back into place. “Behave,” the spider demon hisses. He presses rouged lips to the cat’s ear. “Remember our deal.”

Husk’s pupils momentarily dilate. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles. His claws reach for the tie, but he stops himself last minute.

Angel Dust looks amazing in a form fitting black sequined gown and a blonde wig styled with finger waves. Alastor notices that he and Husk appear to be matching. The spider demon holds out one of his ivory gloved arms. Husk’s takes the arm and though he tries to hide it, Alastor sees the pride burning in those golden eyes,

“Okay, everyone,” Charlie claps her hands. The princess wears a stunning ivory ladies’ tuxedo. She purposely had it styled to resemble her father’s but with a few special Charlie touches in the form of crimson trim. Her golden hair is styled into a long braid. “Remember! Best behavior! We’re here to attract sponsors!” the Princess points at her mouth and plasters on a smile. “Remember big smiles and be super charming!”

Vaggie walks up in a long black gown with a belt of silver skulls around her waist. The moth demoness’ long hair is pulled into a high ponytail. Black lipstick paints her currently frowning lips. “Charlie’s right. I cannot stress how badly we need to impress these people. Niffty?”

Niffty appears wearing a ruby red strapless evening gown. Alastor bought her a necklace of glittering red beads in the shape of teardrops. They look like a bloody gash around her neck. “Yes, Miss Vaggie?”

“Leave your reading materials behind. Okay?”

Niffty blinks rapidly. She laughs. “Miss Vaggie! I would never!” Niffty coughs. “Um, I just gotta run back to the limo for totally unrelated reasons! Be right back!”

“Doesn’t matter how well-behaved we act,” Husk says crossly. “If we can’t get in the party. Where’s Vox? I thought he was supposed to ride with us?”

Charlie frowns. “He changed his mind last minute. Said something about an interview?” she looks worried for a second before she puts on her trademark Charlie smile. “Doesn’t matter. He’ll be here!”

“I am here,” a voice says from behind them.

Alastor turns and spots Vox walking their way. Vox wears a bespoke modern smoking jacket over formal black trousers. The jacket is made from a raw silk jacquard shaded a beautiful cerulean blue and decorated with tiny airwaves. Vox also wears a white button up shirt beneath his jacket and simple black bowtie. His usual top hat has been replaced with a simpler unadorned black version. Vox readjusts his bowtie and gives them a grin. “Sorry about the wait,” he says. “Shall we?” He pauses to give Alastor the onceover. A slow grin spreads over his face. “Not bad, Radio Demon. Looking classy.”

“I could say the same to you,” Alastor replies. “You look very dapper in your smoking jacket.”

Vox preens. “Hey, if they’re good enough for Dean Martin then they’re good enough for me.” He falls silent when Alastor motions him closer. With a small smile, Vox leans in and accepts the small bag that the deer demon has been waiting to give him. Another protection gris-gris for Vox’s newest outfit. He slips it into his pocket before turning to the others. “Well, let’s get this show on the road! Everyone ready?”

“Just waiting on Niffty,” Husk tells him.

Niffty runs up, arms waving. “Here I am,” she shouts. She blushes and lowers her voice. “I mean, I’m here now. Hi, Vox! You look very handsome. Mr. Alastor did you tell him how handsome he looks?”

Alastor sighs and turns away from the imploring stare of the maid.

The manor’s steward and security detail (gotta keep the riff-raff out) move to block their path until they catch sight of Vox. The steward bows deeply, simpering and welcoming the Media Overlord. The demon seems more impressed to have Vox present than the literal Princess of Hell, but Charlie tries not to let it get to her. After all, Vox was invited and they’re crashing.

Charlie takes a deep breath. “Okay, everyone. We need to—”

Vox takes a hold of her arm. “Quick note, Princess,” He pulls her aside and motions for the others to gather around. “I think you should know what you’re working with.”

Charlie scoffs. “This isn’t my first gala, Vox. I am a member of royalty, after all.”

Vox nods. He smiles at someone and gives them a wave. “Yeah, but that was when you didn’t have anything riding on it. Charlie, listen. See that demoness over there? That’s Lady Stricka Vericozi. Her last three husbands and two wives found themselves unable to get inside during a Cleansing. That guy over there with the two heads? Had two sons. The one he actually liked was too young to inherit so the least favorite found himself conveniently needing to run an errand on the day the angels came for a visit. Her? Used the Cleansing to bump off her parents. He uses the Cleansing when he wants a new lover. Those two? They like to host viewing parties and bet on the survivors.” Vox looks at Charlie. “See? You need to work out your angle before you approach these people. You see the Cleasne as this monstrous, inhumane murder of your people. Them? They see it as a handy dandy way to remove an inconvenience.”

Charlie swallows. Her bottom lip trembles as she shakily asks, “So you’re saying there’s no point?”

Vox shakes his head. He hears someone call his name. “Hey, you!” he shoots finger guns at a passing demon. “I’ll find you later! No,” he says to Charlie. “It’s not impossible to find someone among these fucks who you can pull to your cause.” Vox sighs. “I’m just saying you’re not going to get anywhere if you try to rely on pulling heart strings. I mean, Hellborn are a mixed bag when it comes to Sinners. Some see us as a bunch of filthy, disease-ridden encroachers who take up space that should by right be theirs. Others see us as exploitable resources. A few see us as something to pity but it’s the same way you’d pity a starving alley cat with patchy fur and goopy eyes that’s missing three of its legs.”

Charlie blinks. “Okay,” she says slowly. She looks at the others. “So, what should be our angle? How do we promote the Hotel to people who don’t care?”

Alastor chuckles. “I would think it would be obvious,” he says. “The same thing that drew me to your Hotel!”

Charlie faces scrunches in dismay. “Oh, no.”

“Oh yes,” Alastor responds. He twirls his cane. “Find a way to make the idea of Sinners seeking redemption as entertaining as possible! They’ll flock to us!”

“Alastor, I’m not really comfortable with—”

The deer demon puts a finger to her lips. “Too bad,” he tells her. “Now put on a less dour face and go mingle!” He gives her a little push.

Alastor weaves his way through the crowd. He selects a glass of champagne and a tiny canape. His eyes scan the crowd looking for a mark. He hears a familiar clicking in his ear. “Stay by my side,” Alastor tells his doppelganger. “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to run about this evening. Our future entertainment depends on it.”

His shadow lets out a low hiss before obediently returning to its dormant state. Alastor lets out a relieved breath. That was one less issue to worry about.

As the evening draws on, Alastor has managed to ingratiate himself to numerous members of the demonic elite. His Southern charm and genteel nature make him especially endearing to women—both young and old. Alastor manifests a piano in an open space and begins to serenade the crowd that gathers. His new fans ply him with applause and drinks both of which he happily accepts. As he plays, Alastor spots Vox standing off to the side, further back and away from the crowd. The TV Demon sips from a drink of his own as he watches Alastor play.

The Radio Demon wets his lips and feeling emboldened (there’s liquid courage running through him, after all), Alastor begins a new song. “When the little blue bird who has never said a word starts to sing: Spring, spring,” Alastor’s cheeks redden. As he continues to play, he risks a look at Vox every so often. A Hellborn demon speaks with him, and Vox laughs at whatever he’s saying but Alastor can see the Media Overlord’s eyes glance his way.

Fuck it. Mama didn’t raise a coward.

“And that’s why birds do it. Bees do it,” Alastor croons. “Even educated fleas do it. Let’s do it. Let’s fall in love!”

         Vox’s head snaps in his direction but before Alastor can get a clear look at his expression, the TV Demon finds himself swarmed by some well-wishers. Alastor bites back a growl and finishes the song. “Well, my dears,” he says to the gathered crowd. “I must be on my way, but you’ve been a lovely audience. If you want to hear more from me, make sure to tune into my show! Or pay me a visit at my current day job as co-proprietor of the Hazbin Hotel!” Alastor winks. He manifests a hat and tosses it to the crowd. He suppresses a laugh as his newest fans are reduced to clawing and biting; wanting his hat for themselves.

         He goes upstairs and finds a nice balcony to enjoy a moment of peace. His ear turns back at the sound of the glass doors opening. “I thought you should know that there’s currently a brawl happening downstairs,” Vox stands next to him. The Media Overlord leans over the balcony’s rail and takes out his cigarette case. He offers one to Alastor who takes it with a word of murmured thanks. He lights them and takes a quick drag before adding, “Vannatee Nightshade just kidney punched Lady Bressina. It was quite the sight.”

         Alastor grins, “Is that so? Well, I have no control over what the guests do.”

         “Mm-hmm,” Vox says. Alastor isn’t looking at him, but he can hear the smile in the TV Demon’s voice. “You’re quite the sower of chaos, Alastor the Radio Demon. You plant the seeds then go on your merry way.”

         “Guilty as charged.”

         “Hmm.” Vox blows a smoke ring. He stares out over the city. “So, that was an interesting song choice.”

         Alastor forces out a laugh. His bravado’s suddenly gone now that he’s found himself alone. “Oh, that? Yes, well. It’s a classic,” Alastor says. “And so easy to play on the piano!”

         “Oh,” Vox mumbles. “Right. Right! That makes sense. You are a Cole Porter fan.”

         Alastor breathes a sigh of relief. “That I am,” he agrees. Alastor wets his lips. “That I am,” he repeats in a murmur.

         Vox taps his claws against the stone of the balcony. “Alastor, you ever think—” he stops. “Alastor, you’re a good friend. An awesome guy. I’m so lucky to have you.”

         Alastor suddenly finds it very hard to wear his trademark smile, but he keeps it on for appearance’s sake. “I feel the same about you, Vox,” he lies. “Our friendship is a wonderful thing and I…would hate for anything to ruin it.”

         Vox nods. “Yeah, I figured,” he mumbles. “I mean…yeah.”

         They stand quietly and smoke.

         “Alastor, what do you think makes people fall in love?” Vox blurts out of the blue.

         The Radio Demon can hear the deafening roar of static in his ears.

         Okay. Wow. Okay. Don’t fuck this up, Alastor. You can do this.

         “Well,” Alastor says almost nonchalantly. “I think it’s shared experiences.”

         “Shared experiences,” Vox repeats. Alastor sees his shoulders slump.

         “Yes,” Alastor adds quickly. “I mean, thanks to you I’ve experienced so many things I wouldn’t have normally,” Alastor continues, fighting the desperate urge to throw himself over the balcony. “I cannot believe I’ve spent so many decades here and I’ve only just now had sushi! And you even got me a phone of all things.”

         “Yeah,” Vox mumbles. “Which you hated.”

         Fuck. “That was an overreaction on my part,” Alastor insists. “I mean, it’s not like it’s the height of technology! I’m allowed to make allowances. I’m happy to make them for y—certain people.”

         Vox raises his eyes to look at Alastor. “Except you shouldn’t need to make allowances,” he says. “That’s not how—” He shakes his head.

         Why does he look so sad?

         “Vox, what’s wrong?”

         “Nothing,” Vox says. He snubs out his cigarette. “We should get back to the party.”

         Alastor throws his cigarette over the balcony and follows the other Overlord inside. Something was wrong. Had he done something –said something to upset Vox?

         “Holy shit, Vox! Hey, Vox!”

         Alastor looks up and sees a Sinner demon in a black tux approaching Vox. The demon has the clean skull of stag for a head with tiny pinpricks of yellow light within his empty sockets. Alastor’s own antlers begin to grow at the sight of this encroacher, greeting Vox with a level of familiarity that sets the deer demon’s teeth on edge. Alastor hangs back as Vox laughs and greets the other demon. The stag demon pulls a phone out of his pocket and leans close to Vox.

         Too close.

         He puts an arm around Vox’s shoulders as they pose for a selfie.

         Get away. Don’t touch him. Get away. Don’t touch him. Get away!

         The stag Sinner pulls away, but Alastor sees (imagines?) the way his clawed hand lingers on Vox’s shoulders before they part.

         Static drowns out all noise and Alastor’s gaze follows the stag demon as he makes his way across the room.

         Well, this just wouldn’t do.

         Angel Dust watches as Alastor melts into a shadow and disappears. With a sigh, he puts his Cosmo down on the bar and moves to follow the poor sap that’s found himself a victim of the Radio Demon’s ire.

         He follows the demon to the bathroom. Angel looks around. No sign of Alastor, but that didn’t mean much. He sighs and heads inside. He finds the Sinner Demon staring at what looks like a shadow projected on the bathroom wall. Angel sees the shapes of a familiar set of antlers and ears.

         Angel laughs. “Rich people, eh?”

         “W-what?” the Sinner Demon turns to him, startled. The sight of the shadow being cast from no discernable source seems to have freaked him out.

         “They sure do love their fancy art, right?” Angel gestures at the wall.

         The Sinner seems to consider that. “Ha! Yeah,” he chuckles. “Yeah, they do.” He turns away. As he does so, Alastor’s two-dimensional hand rises off the wall and solidifies as it reaches for the demon. His claws extend and sharpen as his hand stretches forth.

         “Saw you get a picture of Vox,” Angel says. “You a fan?”

         The Sinner Demon nods. “Oh yeah, but my husband’s an even bigger fan! He was supposed to be here tonight with me, but he felt ‘under the weather’,” the Sinner Demon makes finger quotes. “And begged me to go alone instead. He’s probably at home eating ice cream and watching TV. Oh man! He’s going to lose his shit when I show him this!” The demon cackles. “That’ll teach him!”

         Angel smiles. Unbeknownst to the Sinner, the hand that had been outstretched to claw at him retracts almost sheepishly to its original position at the mention of his husband. “Well, I’m sure you’re going to teach him a valuable lesson about faking illnesses,” Angel agrees.

         “Here’s hoping!”

         They chat a bit longer as the demon (“Call me Galaxy”) washes his hands. He was a pretty okay guy. Angel pretends he needs to stay a little longer to check his makeup so he can wait for Galaxy to leave. When the other demon is gone, he levels an even stare at Alastor who has peeled himself from the wall. “Well,” the spider demon says. “You wanna talk about it?”

         Alastor averts his gaze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says waspishly.

         “Oh, really? So, you’re going to stand there and pretend you weren’t about to yank that guy’s head off for the horrendous crime of being too friendly with the guy who’s not even your boyfriend?”

         Alastor bites back a retort.

         Angel sighs. “Jesus, Smiles.”

         “Angel, how did you tell Husker that you were in love with him?”

         The spider demon is suddenly at a loss for words. “I…well, I was always flirting with Husk,” Angel tells him. “Eventually, he started flirting back. I think it was to try to give me a taste of my own medicine, but it kinda had the opposite effect.” Angel shrugs. “One thing led to another, and we started spending time with each other. I started finding reasons to see him at the bar. He let me sit at the bar to talk to him instead of making me order drinks.” Angel smiles. “And it was little things. He used to sneak Cherri into the hotel for me. Did you know that? Of course, you didn’t. If you had, you would’ve gone to Vaggie or Charlie. But yeah. After an especially shitty night or day with Valentino, he’d pull me aside and ask if I wanted Cherri. He even made up this little code phrase. ‘Hey, Angel. Want me to bring you Cherri ala Mode?’ See, cuz ala Mode sounds like explode.” Angel laughs. “Well, I thought it was cute. And other times, when I was in a dark place, he would just hold me. No sex. No talking. He’d just take me in his arms and wrap his wings around me like he was trying to shield me from everything terrible.” The spider demon’s eyes water. He quickly wipes at them and utters a little curse. “Gotta fix that before I head out. Look, we didn’t really say ‘I love you’ out loud for a while, but we showed each other how we felt through gestures. The words came later.” Alastor looks devastated. Angel wants to give him a hug but knows from experience that will just get him a cane to the face. “Look, Al,” Angel sighs. “You’ll figure out your own way to do it. Maybe you can try telling him outright?”

         Alastor shakes his head. “I tried that!”

         Angel Dust looks at him skeptically. “Did you? Did you really?”

         “I…” Alastor waves a hand. “An attempt was made!”

         “Aw, Smiles...”

         Alastor’s face flushes. “Leave me alone,” he snaps. He turns and stomps out of the bathroom. The deer demon doesn’t know what to do. He looks around but can no longer see Vox. His mood plummets even further. The Radio Demon hears his name and turns to find the source.

         It’s Charlie. The Princess looks surprisingly dejected. “How’s your night going?”

         “Poorly,” Alastor admits. “Although it started off splendidly. Yours?”

         Charlie sips from the champagne flute. “I always hated parties like these,” she tells him. “People showing off and talking about nothing of any real importance. They’re glorified fashion shows.”

         Alastor blinks and takes a moment to really look at Charlie. “How many of those have you had?” He nods at the flute.

         Charlie snorts. “Not enough,” she mutters. “It’s just so tiring, you know? Trying to make other people give a fuck.”

         “No success in finding any interested sponsors, I take it?”

         Charlie goes quiet. She looks off to the side. “I…one person was interested, but he wanted to turn the hotel into a gambling ring. Like, he told me he wanted demons to be able to place bets on residents and who would succeed and who’d fail. He wanted to televise the whole thing. I told him that wasn’t what the Hotel was about. I told him we’re trying to help people; trying to save souls, and he just laughed at me.”

         Alastor tries to think of something to say but can’t. Charlie feels too much and her desire to save Hell’s denizens from further slaughter is genuine. Unfortunately, she’s trying to appeal to people who could care less.

         Angel Dust walks out of the bathroom, makeup fixed. “Hey Char-Char! How’s it going?” He looks at her face. “Yikes!”

         “Yeah,” Charlie mumbles. “People suck. The world is a cesspool, and these people are just the flies who get their first choice of the best pile of shit.”

         Alastor and Angel Dust exchange a look.

         “Aaaaand I’ll take this,” Angel Dust plucks the flute of champagne away from Charlie. “You are not a happy drunk. Which I should’ve figured since the last time I saw you three sheets to the wind you were bawling your eyes out.”

         “These fuckers aren’t worth my tears,” Charlie growls.

         “Perhaps one of us should locate Vagatha,” Alastor suggests. While he finds this version of Charlie fascinating, it’s only a matter of time before something goes wrong. “I should—” he starts to say before his attention is drawn to a nearby conversation. Alastor turns to the two demons who had been speaking. He moves toward them. “Excuse me,” he says. “I don’t mean to intrude but what was that you just said? Would you mind repeating it?”

         The demoness blushes. He recognized her from the faces in the crowd that gathered while he sang. “I was telling my companion that the Habernathy DePlume is here tonight!”

         Her companion rolls his eyes. “He’s only here to garner attention for his new book.”

         “Not true,” the demoness says. “I also hear he’s going to see if he can talk to Vox about a new show.”

         Alastor’s teeth grind. “And what direction is Mr. DePlume in?” When they point, Alastor turns. There seems to be a small crowd formed in that direction. He thanks them.

         Angel has two firm hands on Charlie’s arm as he pulls her toward the deer demon. “What gives, Smiles? We going to go find Vaggie or what?” He does a double take when he sees Alastor’s expression. “Uh, Alastor? You okay?”

         “There is a gentleman here that I must have a word with,” Alastor says in a low, dangerous voice. “Habernathy DePlume.”

         “Uh,” Angel blinks. “Who’s that?”

         Alastor’s eyes glow red and the spider demon can see the dials in the center. “Oh, he’s only the star of a little show called DePlume’s Cajun and Creole Cuisine.”

         “Oh,” Angel says. He hauls Charlie closer when the princess tries to escape. “Are you a fan?”

         “No.” Alastor says with a growl that Angel Dust feels in his bones. The deer demon stalks off with such an aura of menace that demons near him move out his path.

         “Fuck,” Angel says. He looks at Charlie then looks in the direction Alastor just went. “Double fuck! Oh, I am not equipped to deal with this bullshit. Charlie, come on. I think Alastor’s going to get all murder-y at this fancy shindig.” Angel Dust pulls Charlie along as he tries to follow Alastor. He finds Alastor standing behind a group of onlookers, glaring silently at a Sinner Demon who seemed to be every stereotype about Portland hipsters personified.

         Habernathy DePlume has a long bushy brown beard down to his collarbone and a mustache that curls perfectly at the ends. On closer inspection, the demon also appears to have smaller versions of his curled mustache in the place of eyebrows. He smells strongly of a nauseating blend of mustache wax, IPA, pine trees, and dark roast coffee beans. He’d come to the party wearing a pair of skinny black jeans, a checkered button up, and a checkered bow tie. His brown hair was styled into a perfect manbun. His demonic features (besides the absurd mustache eyebrows) take the form of bone-white skin, a strangely ursine facial structure, and pair of tusks that curl from his bottom lip.

         Alastor wants to wrap his hands around the man’s throat.

         “…so yeah,” DePlume says. “I just feel like it’s my gift. Who am I to deny it? I mean, I just feel like once you get a taste of my devilled egg poor boys—”

         “Poboys,” Alastor snaps.

         DePlume looks his way. “What?”

         “The sandwich is properly referred to as a poboy,” Alastor tells him. “You should at least attempt to call it by its correct name and while we’re on the subject, what the Hell is a devilled egg poboy? That’s not a thing! It’s never been a thing!”

         “Well, no duh,” DePlume grins. “Because I created it. I innovated it. I’m an innovator,” he tells a pretty Hellborn demoness to his right. “See, I took devilled eggs, diced them, added my special blend of seasonings and sweet relish.”

         Alastor cuts him off. “So, it’s an egg salad sandwich? You’re trying to pass off an egg salad sandwich as Creole cuisine?!”

         Angel Dust places a hand on the Radio Demon’s shoulder. “Alastor, maybe we should go somewhere else. You seem a little worked up.”

         “And another thing!” Alastor roars, completely ignoring Angel’s attempts to defuse this situation. “Your show is a travesty! It is a mockery!”

         DePlume scoffs. “Dude, I make masterpieces. Have you tasted my caramel flan beignets?”

         “What you do,” Alastor seethes, “is take foods steeped in tradition and history, strip them to nothing, and repackage them into bland, tasteless abominations! And how do you pronounce beignets correctly but can’t manage poboys?”

         DePlume rolls his eyes. “You’re welcome to your opinion, but I’ve had rave reviews for my deconstructed sweet potato crawfish etouffee.”

         A demon who made the poor choice to stand in front of Alastor finds himself flung across the room as the deer demon pushes his way to the front. “First! There are no sweet potatoes in etouffee, sir! Second! You left the heads on! You never leave the heads on! It’s a stew! You’re expected to just spoon up the food!”

         By now a bigger crowd has formed. Despite being scions of high society, these wealthy demons  sense the potential for violence in the air and are drawn like sharks scenting blood.

         DePlume scoffs. “Look, I’m not making food for plebians. I’m an artist!”

         “You’re a fraud,” Alastor roars. “You know nothing about the food you ‘cook’!”

         DePlume looks offended by the insinuation. “Uh, yeah I do! I’ll have you know that I spent a week in New Orleans! I went there for Mardi Gras.”

Alastor blinks rapidly. He whips out a tendril. It grabs a chair and drags it to the Radio Demon. Alastor breaks off the chair leg and smacks it against his palm. “I don’t care for you,” Alastor says softly.

Angel sighs. He looks at Charlie who has a fresh drink in her hand. “Where did you—know what? Doesn’t matter. You and me are going to find Vox.”

         “Look, sir,” the Sinner Demon says. “I get it. You’re a native, right?”

         Alastor silently nods. He’s still smacking the chair leg against his palm like a club.

         “Well, I get it.” DePlume tells him. “It’s sensitive. You got all this history. I totally get that. But I take all that history and I modernize it. I make it better.”

         Alastor’s neck cracks. Black blood dribbles down his chin. “Better?” He says, voice distorted. “How so?”

         Angel walks faster. It would’ve been easier if he wasn’t dragging along Charlie who insists on being dead weight.

         “Well,” DePlume says. “Let’s be honest. A lot of those recipes were made by poor, working class people, right? And you know,” He lowers his voice to whisper, “Blacks. I make the recipes better. I give them style. These aren’t recipes for some in-bred hillbilly scratching his ass in a swamp. These are masterpieces.”

         Alastor lowers his gaze to the chair leg in his hand. “Right,” he says and tosses it to the side. Alastor takes off his coat. His shadow appears by his side and gleefully takes it. Alastor keeps eyes trained on Habernathy DePlume as he begins to roll up his sleeves.

         “Vox!” Angel Dust calls. He hauls Charlie forward and shoves her unceremoniously at Vaggie who had been talking to the TV Demon. “Here! Your girlfriend’s a bummer when she’s sloshed!”

         “Oh, Charlie,” Vaggie murmurs and places a hand on the princess’s cheek.

         “Never mind that,” Angel snaps. He looks at Vox. “You need to go get Alastor. He found this weird hipster demon and they started talking about cooking and I think Smiles is about to beat him to death with a chair leg!”

         Vox sighs. “Fuck! I thought DePlume wasn’t coming.” He sighs again. “Okay, look. I’m sure it’s not a big deal. Gather up your friends and go wait in your car. I’ll get Alastor.”

         They find Niffty and Husk easily enough. Husk was by the bar, of course, but he’s surprisingly making drinks instead of partaking. The cat demon is having the time of his life chatting with the bartender and making cocktails. “It’s been so long since I’ve worked with real alcohol,” he tells the grizzled Hellhound manning the bar. He pours a Manhattan and slides it to the waiting demon. “Thanks for letting me do this!”

         “No problem,” the Hellhound says. “You’re helping me out. You’d be surprised how much these people can drink!”

         Angel Dust walks up. “Husky, say goodbye to your friend.”

         The winged demon actually pouts. “What? Why?”

         “We’re about to get thrown out is why.”

         Husk sighs. He claps a paw onto the Hellhound’s back. “Thanks, Marv. It’s been real. Take it easy.”

         “Later, man,” Marv responds.

         They find Niffty not far from the front door staring daggers at a water stain in the wallpaper. Though it’s no bigger than a quarter, the tiny one-eyed demoness managed to spot it and has been staring at it. It’s an ugly dark blotch on an otherwise pristine wall, and it infuriates her.

         Husk picks her up and tucks her under his arm. “Time to go, Niffty,” Husk says. “Wait, were you there this whole time?”

         “There was a stain!” Niffty hisses. Her pupil shrinks to a pinprick. “A stain…”

         Husk sighs. “Say no more.”

         The crew sits in the car, waiting for some news from Vox. Husk tugs at his tie. “Well, I kept up my end of the bargain,” he tells Angel Dust. “Kept my clothes on the entire time we were inside.” He leers at the spider demon. “Now you gotta keep up your end.”

         Angel smiles and bats his eyes. “And I will.”

         Vaggie looks between them. “What did you promise him?”

         “I told him if he kept his outfit on the entire time he was at the party, I’d take his clothes off with my mouth.”

         Husk gives Angel a suggest wiggle of his eyebrows. “And I can’t wait,” he growls.

         They look at their phones when they get a mass text simultaneously.

Vox *10:54p*: Found Alastor. He’s still yelling at DePlume.

Vox *10:56*: Ha! This guy just said he IMPROVED jambalaya. Alastor looks like he wants to choke a bitch. Holy fuck and you won’t believe this the dude brought SAMPLES. I’m fucking dying.

Vox *11*: Start the car.

Vox *11:01*: Start the car!

Vox *11:02*: START THE FUCKING CAR!!!!!1

They watch from the limo as Vox escorts Alastor out the front door of the Synestrium manor. Vox keeps a firm grip on the deer demon’s arm as he frog-marches Alastor to the waiting vehicle. There’s blood coating Alastor’s arms up to the elbows and droplets on his shirt and face. Vaggie opens the door and both Vox and Alastor slide in. “Didn’t you come here in a separate car?”

Vox gives her a grim look. “I did, but if I don’t keep a grip on him, I feel like he’s going to climb out the window and finish DePlume.”

Alastor doesn’t deny it.

The car ride is silent. They can feel Alastor seething and no one’s eager to draw his attention. Now that they’re moving, Vox has loosened his grip and gives the silently raging deer demon a pat on the hand.

“Polenta!” Alastor suddenly barks.

The others jump at the sudden noise. Well, not Vox. He looks up from his phone. Gives Alastor another pat. “I know. I know.”

“ Polenta ,” Alastor sneers. He looks at the others. “That monster had the gall to tell me that he improved jambalaya! Looked me right in the eyes and said it! Then! And then he had the audacity to bring samples!”

The others are pressed as far away from the deer demon as possible. “Okay,” Angel says.

“It was an insult! It was a travesty!” Alastor rages. “Instead of seafood, ham, or even chicken he used tofu! Instead of file powder he used sea salt. There was no proper base. No spice. And the worst offense? The absolute worst offense is that instead of rice he used polenta !” Alastor throws back his head and roars. The small space of the car is filled with the sound of screeching static and feedback. “Vox!” Alastor turns to look at the TV Demon. “Let me go back so I can kill him!”

Vox shakes his head.

“Vox, please. I’ll be doing Hell a favor!”

“You beat him into a literal coma, Alastor,” Vox tells him. “And you ate his hands, so I doubt he’ll be doing much cooking if he ever wakes up.”

Alastor hisses. “I need to be thorough.”

Angel Dust tosses Vaggie and Charlie a withering look. “Can’t believe you two were worried about me! When we get back and Char-Char is sober, I expect an apology!”

The following morning two miraculous things happen.

The first is a visit from Lord and Lady Synestrium. Lord Synestrium has the long deep bill of a pelican and towers over his petite, plump wife who’s coloring and beak remind Alastor of a lovebird. The two nobles walk with Alastor as he tours them through the hotel, trailed silently by a quietly suffering Charlie.

“Marvelous party,” Lord Synestrium roars. “Absolutely marvelous! One our best, right my dear?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Lady Synestrium agrees. Her tiny feet are almost a blur as she scurries to keep pace with the rest of the longer limbed group. “Everyone loves a good bit of bloodshed!”

“Indeed,” Lord Synestrium bellows. Charlie looks like she’d rather be anywhere else than here. “You know,” he looks at Alastor. “I fancy myself a bit of a gourmand and you have no idea how much it pleases me to find someone like you.”

Alastor tilts his head and arches a brow. “Like me?”

“Indeed! A man so passionate about food that he’d literally beat another man to death for committing culinary offenses!” Lord Synestrium chortles so hard that his gular wobbles. “Outstanding!”

“Sublime,” his wife chirps. She laughs high and bright when he scoops her up in his arms and spins her around.

“Stupendous!” Synestrium concludes after setting his wife back down. “Why, we said to ourselves that if you showed that much passion to cooking then imagine what you must show to this hotel! Malaisia! Didn’t we say that?”

“We did,” his wife bounces on her feet. She reaches into her purses and pulls out a checkbook and pen. “We have to be a part of it!”

Lord Synestrium slaps both his long thighs. “Ha! Ha! Yes ! Here’s to a bright and beautiful partnership with you, sir!” He takes Alastor’s hand and shakes it vigorously. After handing Charlie the check, Lord Synestrium picks up his wife and cradles her as he springs out of the room and in graceful, dancing leaps.

The Synestriums leave as boisterously as they had arrived. Charlie looks numbly at the check in her hands. “Alastor,” she turns to the Radio Demon. “What just happened?”

Alastor claps a hand on her shoulder. “Congratulations, Princess Morningstar! You’ve got a new sponsor!” He turns on his heels. “With that in mind, we best redo the budget! We’ve got a bit more wiggle room now that it’s just not you and me paying for things! My! We could even think about filling in that crater now! Didn’t you want to turn it into a pool? Well, now we can! Glorious! And to think this would have never happened if Habernathy DePlume wasn’t such a terrible cook! Remind me to send him a fruit basket! Ha! Or juice basket seeing as he won’t be using that jaw anytime soon! Ha! I’m terrible,” he says before disappearing around a corner.

The second thing that happens, later in the day, probably after lunch if Alastor was to guess, Vox arrives. The TV Demon arrives holding a letter, claiming it had arrived at his tower but was addressed to Hazbin Hotel.

Vaggie eyes it suspiciously. “Did you see who delivered it?”

Vox rubs the back of his head. He mumbles something.

Vaggie blinks. “What’s that?”

Vox sighs. “I said, it was a mushroom.” He looks aside then adds, “It was this little mushroom with fucking legs. I swear! I know how it sounds but look!” his screen replays the security feed. Sure enough, around the time Lord and Lady Synestrium were leaving, a two foot tall mushroom with chubby legs trots up to Vox’s tower door. It has a letter taped to its spotted green cap. The mushroom taps at Vox’s door with its foot as if measuring a space. It plops down and plants itself. The footage cuts off and Vox’s face reappears. “See? A fucking walking mushroom!”

“So, what happened when you grabbed the note?” Charlie asks.

Vox shrugs. “It disintegrated on the spot. A cloud of spores. I shut the door fast. Figured it might be poison.” He looks at the note. “I didn’t open it.”

Charlie worries her bottom lip with her teeth. She takes a deep breath and takes the envelope from Vox’s hand. “Careful, Charlie,” Vaggie whispers.

         “It could be a letter bomb,” Husk points out.

         “Guys,” Charlie gives an exasperated huff. She hesitates.

         A tendril whips out and slices off the top of the envelope. Charlie almost drops it from her surprise. “Alastor!” the princess yelps. “Not cool!”

         “You were taking too long.”

         Charlie frowns as she slides the paper from the envelope. Her eyes rove over the paper. “It doesn’t say who it’s from. Just says that they saw my re-do on TV and want to meet us. They provided an address.”

         Vaggie slides the paper out of her girlfriend’s hands. “Oh, I don’t like this,” she mutters. “Charlie, this could be a trap!”

         “A trap?” Charlie snorts. She says, “Vaggie, who would do that?”

         The moth demon looks flustered. “I don’t know,” she admits. “But you have to admit this is really sketchy! No name, but they want you to come somewhere and meet them? Alone?”

         “Oh, it doesn’t say I need to be alone.”

         Vaggie looks confused. She takes a moment to read the paper. “Um, okay,” Vaggie says softly. “She’s allowed to bring friends. That’s…strange.” She looks at the others for confirmation. “That’s strange, right?”

         Husk nods. He strokes his chin. “What if Charlie’s not the target?”

         Charlie rolls her eyes. “Okay, guys you’re being paranoid. Who would these mystery people even be af—”

         All eyes turn to look at Alastor.

         The deer demon looks mildly offended then considers that it is possible that he’s made his fair share of enemies. He throws back his head and laughs. “Well, I’m certainly not going to say no to an invite! If they want to challenge me then I say let them. Does it give us a time we need to meet this mysterious stranger?”

         Vaggie groans. Why did she expect the Radio Demon to be rational? “It doesn’t. It just says when we’re ready.”

         “Ooh! Cryptic!” Alastor pulls them in for a tight embrace. “Well friends, how about we go meet the mysterious author? Why waste time?”

         “Hold on,” Vaggie pushes herself free. “What if that’s the plan? Get us all out of the hotel? Leave it vulnerable?”

         Alastor sighs. “Vagatha, your paranoia is getting a bit exhausting. First they were after Charlie then they were after me. Now you’re saying they’re after the hotel? Make up your mind, woman!” he pinches her cheek.

         Vaggie growls and swipes at him. “I’m just saying that there is something very fucking weird about a letter showing up outta the blue asking us to go to a mysterious location.”

         Charlie moves away from Alastor and pulls her girlfriend into a hug. “It’s okay, Vaggie. If it makes you feel better we can leave someone behind.”

         “Angel can stay.”

         Angel Dust looks annoyed. He glowers at Husk for having the audacity. “Well, first of all, I can speak for myself! Why are you volunteering me to stay?”

         Husk scowls. “That’s a stupid question! Why the fuck would I want you in danger? And besides, you’re the current face of the hotel. Literally our only resident. We can’t risk you if this is something dangerous.”

         “But you’d risk the literal Princess of Hell?”

         The cat demon snorts. “Oh, please. Charlie’s the safest of us. No one’s going to lay one finger on Lucifer’s flesh and blood. Estranged or not, we saw proof that he still cares about her. Nah, Charlie’s safe. You, on the other hand? This could just be some sick way for Valentino to get back at you and Al for having the balls to stand up to him. And Vaggie’s right. The hotel’s also a target or does no one remember we’re currently patching up the remnants of the last attacks?”

         Alastor squints at Husk. “I’m not sure how I feel about this new side of you, Husker. You’re much more…coherent.”

         “Blow it out your ass, Al,” Husk snarls. He points at Niffty. “You’re staying too. Razzle and Dazzle too. I think Charlie can spare ’em.”

         Angel throws out his arms in exasperation. “You’re leaving me with the three tiniest members of the team? Holy fuck, Husk!”

         The cat demon ignores his boyfriend’s tantrum. “We both know what horror Niffty’s capable of,” he looks at the maid. Niffty’s lips peel back in a sharp-tooth grin. The corner of Husk’s eye twitches. “And furthermore, despite their appearances and size, do you think that King Lucifer would leave the protection of his daughter and heir in the care of stuffed toys? Naaaah.” He studies the two bodyguards. They stare back. Razzle’s serpentine tongue flicks out and his eyes blaze with innate power. “So, yeah. You’re staying here.”

         Angel scowls. “And what if you’re all worrying about nothing?”

         “Then you get to sit around all day and do nothing while the rest of go fuck off.” Husk takes one of the spider demon’s hands. “Angel, please. Do this…for me?”

         Angel Dust heaves a sigh. “Fine! Niffty, do you wanna do a spa day?”

         “Omigosh, yes!”

         “Awesome! Hear that? While you schmucks are out there heading to certain doom, me and Niffty are going to have a spa day.” He harrumphs and stalks off.

         “It’s for your own good,” Husk yells after him. The winged cat sighs.

         “I don’t understand why he’s being so irritable,” Alastor comments.

         Husk huffs. “He used to tell when Valentino didn’t have him, ugh, working he’d keep him confined to the studios. But what we’re doing is different! I just want him safe!”

         Charlie takes out her phone. “I’m going to give Cherri a quick text,” she says. “Maybe having her here will take the sting out of it.”

         Alastor blinks. “My goodness, Charlie! Twice?”

         The princess blushes. “Well, she didn’t cause any damage last time so…”

         Alastor thinks back to his conversation with Angel about how Husker used to sneak Cherri Bomb into the hotel. He could bring this up as a way to point out that Miss Bomb did seem to have some restraint and didn’t just toss bombs about, but that would mean revealing what he knew. The deer demon casts a sidelong glance at his feline thrall.

         Why share what could be used for later?

         Husk narrows his eyes when he notices Alastor’s gaze. “What,” he demands.

         The Radio Demon chuckles. “Nothing, Husker. Just thinking about something amusing.”

         “While looking at me? Pardon me if that doesn’t put me at ease.”

         Alastor’s smile widens. “That sounds like a you problem, Husker.”

         Husk growls and launches himself at Alastor who anticipated such an action because he winds up his cane and swings it like a baseball bat, sending the cat demon flying head over tail. “We’re really doing this,” Vaggie asks Charlie ignoring all that.

         Charlie gives the moth demon an enthusiastic nod. “What’s the wor—”

         Vox slaps a hand over her mouth. “Never say that,” he hisses. “I mean, come on!”

         “He’s right, Princess,” Alastor as he holds a flailing Husk back with the tip of his cane. “We’re going into unfamiliar territory. Best not to tempt fate.”

         Charlie pantomimes zipping her lips. She beams at Vaggie and gives her a thumbs up. Despite it all, Vaggie chuckles at Charlie’s antics. “Well,” the moth demon sighs. “Best not hold it off any longer. Especially since we’re walking.”

         Alastor raises a finger.

         “We’re not using the fucking Void,” Husk screams.

         Charlie gives Alastor a shaky smile. “Going to have to agree with Husk on that, Al. Sorry. Besides, if these directions are accurate then we’re not really going far enough to warrant a car…or your weird portal of horror and darkness.”

         The deer demon snorts. “Spoilsports.” He glances at Vox. He leans over and whispers, “It’s not really as bad as they make it…if you know the right trick.”

         Vox nudges him with his elbow. “You’ll have to show me.”

         Alastor’s face brightens. “Of course!” He coughs and clears his throat.

         They find themselves turning into an alley that becomes another street once they’ve walk long enough. The directions (if you can call them that) are more a list of landmarks to look for than actual instructions on how to find the place they’re looking for.

         “I’ve never been to this side of the Pentagram,” Charlie comments. “Hmm. Looks pretty empty. I don’t even think there’s an Overlord claiming this territory.”

         Husk eyes the derelict buildings and crumpling streets. “Must not be worth claiming. Hmm. The place we’re looking for should be around here-ish?”

         They look down the street and see a lone Sinner demon sitting beside a truck. She looks up from her phone, gives them a look, decides they aren’t a threat, and goes back to what she was doing.

         “Excuse me,” Charlie waves. “We’re…”

         The demoness points a finger at the building they’re standing next to. It’s squat, square, and unmarked except for three small images spray painted onto the corner.

         A mushroom.

         The right side of a jaguar’s face.

         A cloud of smoke.

         Alastor stoops so he can study the images. He presses a hand against them.

         A glowing line appears where his hand touches and climbs up the wall. It climbs and arches, drawing a rectangular shape into the otherwise blank wall.

         Alastor grins. “A door,” he murmurs, fascinated. “Clever.”

         The door opens and a Sinner demon stands in its frame. His broad shoulders and horns block the entirety of the frame. He looks down at Alastor and his reptilian snout dips into a frown.

         Charlie jogs up. “Hello! I’m Charlie Morningstar—”

         The demon blinks slowly at her. “I know you are,” he says.

         Charlie laughs. “Right. I was just making an introduction? Being…polite?” She coughs. “Anyway, we got this letter and were told to come here.” When the demon still stares with no intention of moving, Charlie holds up the letter. “It…um…it got delivered by a walking mushroom?”

         That gets the demon’s attention. “Ohh! Okay. That makes sense.” He takes a step back. “Hang on, I’ll go let them know you’re here. Be right back.” The door closes before Charlie can say anything and the wall seals.

         They move to stand next to Charlie and Alastor. “What the fuck,” Husk comments. “What’s that about? They invited us!”

         “Hey, now,” Charlie tuts. “Don’t be that way! Maybe they just weren’t us to come the same day?”

         “They didn’t specify a day we should come,” Vaggie points out. She looks over to the demoness sitting next to the truck. She’s not paying attention to them.

         The door reappears but instead of the hulking Sinner from before, it’s a new man.

         The Sinner demon stands before them. This new demon wears a tunic top of swirling bright reds, pinks, blues, and white over a pair of black leather pants and ankle boots. A gold medallion at the end of a braided gold chain swings down to his chest. The medallion opens and a single eye blinks up at them. The Sinner’s face resembles that of any of other baseline Sinner demon but it shines like dark glass. The top half of his head—the dome of his skull—appears to be missing and in its place smoke billows out. A small pair of round sunglasses with red mirrored lens keeps them from seeing his eyes as he surveys them. He smiles at them, his face surprisingly expressive. “Welcome! Welcome,” he says, spreading his arms wide in greeting. He takes a step out. Alastor realizes that he and this stranger are around the same height, although the deer demon does note that the Sinner’s leather boots have a slight heel. The Sinner has a voice like honeyed cream, the smoothness of it drawing them with each word. With each breath he takes causes more smoke to billow forth from the opening on his head. “I’m glad y’all got our invitation. Please, come inside. No sense standing out there in the opening.” He beckons them forth. Alastor notes that his bare arms and hands appear have are gray-black and made of flesh. The deer demon tries to see if there’s flesh or glass making up the neck, but the Sinner’s collar is too high.

         Against their better judgment they follow the Sinner inside. The door seals behind them.

         Inside the building, their eyes take a moment to adjust to the low light. There are Sinner Demons all around. The demonic crowd are a mixture of the old and new. Some wear modern clothes while others wear brightly colored mini dresses and go-go boots, suede leather jackets with fringe, brightly colored patterned shirts and dresses patterned with paisley, flowers, or tie-dye. Some of them recline on bean bag chairs while others just sit in circles on the floor. Some are just lying on the floor with their limbs splayed, uncaring as they’re stepped over by the Hazbin Hotel group and the stranger. A hazy cloud fills the room, making it a little hard to see. The inside of the building seems like a strange mixture of a coffee shop and a church. Windows of red, blue, and green stained-glass line the walls.

         “You might want to crack a window,” Alastor comments.

         The nameless Sinner pauses, looks back at the Radio Demon, and laughs. As he does so more smoke flows out. “That’s a good one, friend,” he says.

         The deer demon’s mouth twists with annoyance, but as soon as the irritation appears it’s gone again. Something about this man puts Alastor at ease. He looks back at the others to see how they’re handling this strangeness.

         Vox looks around, taking in the surroundings with a look of bemusement.

         Vaggie has a strong grip on Charlie’s arm as they walk. Her gaze bounces around, looking for any hidden danger but Alastor notices that the further along they go, the less anxious Vaggie appears.

         Charlie looks around and gives little sleepy two-fingered waves to the demons resting on the floor.

         Husk…

         Why does Husk look so excited?

         The Sinner leads them down a hallway through a beaded curtain.  “Our guests have arrived,” he announces. He stops and slaps the side of my head. “Oh! It slipped my mind. Allow me to introduce myself.” The demon does a sweeping bow and grins at them. His sharp teeth are blinding white against the dark glass of his face. “You may call me Brother Haze. Welcome and be welcome, my new friends! Now come on. You need to meet the rest. Right through here is our inner sanctum. Now don’t be shy.”

         Brother Haze leads them into a separate room. The inner sanctum is the size of a regular living room. A Sinner Demon sits in a wooden chair, head against his chest in slumber. At the sound of their approach, he awakens. When he turns to them, they see that the left side of his face has the dark gray skin of a Sinner Demon while the right side has the dark furred features of a black jaguar. Unlike the psychedelically dressed Brother Haze, this Sinner wears a simple pair of black cargo pants with the legs tucked into a pair of combat boots. He also wears a tattered black turtleneck beneath a singed olive-green military jacket. Though only one side of his face is catlike, both his eyes are feline in nature and leaf green. When he sneers at them, Alastor can see the meat rending teeth of a jungle cat.

         “Be cool,” Brother Haze warns. “These are guests.”

         The tension immediately leaves the Sinner’s body. “I’m cool,” he mutters in a voice as deep as a trench and as hard as a shovel blade.

         Brother Haze just smiles as he circles around the Sinner and moves to a corner where Alastor can see the biggest pile of mushrooms he’s ever seen. The mushrooms are neon bright and colorful, varying in size and shape. They all seem to branch off from a giant mushroom with a green and blue spotted cap. Brother Haze walks over to the pile and gives it a nudge with the toe of his shoe. “Wakey, wakey, baby. We got company.”

         The mushroom pile shudders and the giant green and blue mushroom lifts, revealing the face of another Sinner Demon. Her skin is periwinkle blue with white spots dotting her cheeks and bridge of her nose like freckles. Her eyes have grey sclera and bright pink irises.  She blinks at them, sleepily. “Greetings,” she yawns. She slowly raises her slim arms in a stretch, the action dislodging the mushrooms attached to her arms and sending them tumbling to the floor. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

         “Sweetie,” Brother Haze says with a patient smile. “We invited them.”

         The Sinner Demoness turns her head to look up at him. Wheels seem to turn in her head before the realization takes hold. “Oh, yeah!” She laughs and the sound reminds Alastor of pattering rain.

         “Excuse me,” Charlie waves a hand. “Hi!”

         The woman waves her hand. “Hello, Starchild! Or,” she offers Charlie a smile. “Would you be the child of the Starchild?”

         “I…um…I’m Charlie.”

         “And I’m Sensatia,” the demoness replies in a languid tone.

         Charlie blinks. “Nice to meet you?”

         Sensatia smiles and nods. Her head starts to droop. “Nope,” Brother Haze says and moves forward. “None of that. We called these people to talk to them! Mzimu, help me get her on her feet.”

         Mzimu grunts as he climbs to his feet. He takes two metal spatulas off the wall and hands one to Brother Haze. “You take left and I take right,” Haze tells him. He looks at the rest of them. “Sorry,” he says as he and Mzimu begin hacking at Sensatia’s back. “This happens when she stays in one place for too long. Won’t take but a minute.”

         Together Brother Haze and Mzimu pull Sensatia up onto her feet. Mushrooms spill off her, revealing a floor length pale blue peasant dress. Sensatia pushes up her mushroom cap like the brim of a floppy hat and peers around. “So many new faces,” she murmurs. “Far out.”

         Alastor arches a brow. He has a feeling if someone doesn’t steer this conversation, their reason for being here will drift away. “Yes, hello. Allow me to make introductions. I am Alastor. You’ve already met Charlie Morningstar, Princess of Hell. That is Vaggie, her lover. The dapper fellow with a television for a head is Vox. And the cat—” Alastor happens to glance at Husk and the sight of him makes him do a double take. Husk sits on the floor, legs crossed. His hands rest at his side and his head tilts back like he’s enjoying a cool breeze. Every so often the winged cat demon inhales deeply, holds it, then exhales. His eyes are closed and there's a serene smile on his face.

         Alastor blinks. “That’s, um, that’s Husker. Hm.” The Radio Demon shakes his head. “In any case, we are here as you asked. The question is: why? Why did you summon us?”

         Brother Haze throws back his head and laughs a deep rich laugh. “Brother, you are serious! Chill out. We got time. Why rush?”

         The deer demon’s fists clench at his side. No one has ever accused him of being serious. Brother Haze beckons them to follow. “Come on. No need to be so uptight. But alright, alright. Y’all came all this way. Just hang on.” He goes to a wall and presses a button. A minute later the wide, muscled demon from before walks up. “Cleave, we’re taking our guests to the back rooms. Do us a solid and make sure nobody interrupts our meeting. Make sure everybody stays laid back, understand?”

         Cleave nods. “Got it, Brother Haze. I don’t expect it’ll be an issue, but yeah.”

         Brother Haze grins. He slaps Cleave on the meaty shoulder. “Right on!” When Cleave’s gone, Haze turns back to the rest of them. He claps his hand together. “Well, my brothers and sisters. Let’s go somewhere a bit more private.”

Chapter Text

They follow Brother Haze and his companions down a darkened hallway made of stone. Sensatia hums as she walks, her fingers trailing along the walls and creating bioluminescent mushrooms to light their way. Brother Haze’s smoke practically fills the tunnel. Alastor gives a few tentative sniffs. For some reason the scent seems familiar. Alastor has vague memories from his youth of standing on his toes and peering into a local ragtime club. He was too young to go inside but had been drawn to the sound of the music. By the time he was old enough to enter such a place, ragtime had been replaced by his beloved swing and jazz. Walking home, passing the bands enjoying a smoke break by the back door, Alastor would smell that scent again.

He never found out what it was. Maybe he should ask Brother Haze.

The deer demon looks over his shoulder. Husk looks the most relaxed Alastor has ever seen him. “Husker?” Alastor asks. “Are you well?”

Husk laughs. “I’m amazing, Al. Feeling mellow. Feeling good.”

“Oh.” What else could he say? He turns back to Brother Haze. “Where are you taking us?”

“Don’t worry, Brother,” Haze says. “Nothing nefarious. We’re just taking you to our private chamber. It’s cool.”

More smoke billows out and Alastor nods. He has no reason to believe that these three mean them any harm.

“Perhaps some formal introductions are in order.” Brother Haze says. “We know you, but you don’t know us. As I said, I am Brother Haze. That lovely lady lighting our way is my wife Sensatia.” Sensatia waves over her shoulder. “And that snarly SOB is Mzimu, our husband.”

Mzimu grunts but says nothing else.

“Mzimu,” Charlie says. “That’s an interesting name. Does it mean anything?”

“It’s Swahili for ‘ghost’.”

“Oh! That’s really cool!” Charlie smiles. “Ghost!”

Mzimu’s shoulders tense. “I chose it to be a reminder of my sins,” he tells her. “I served my country twice. Once in the Korean War and again as a CIA operative. I was a spook.” They can hear the growl in his voice. “Went to South America and helped overthrow democratically elected leaders that didn’t align with Uncle Sam’s grand plans. I was loyal. Did as I was told like the good little pickaninny they wanted me to be and what did I get for it?” He stretches an arm so he can point at his back.

Alastor leans closer and he can see a single hole in the dead center of Mzimu’s back. The X on his forehead suddenly aches as if in commiseration.

“Shot,” Mzimu continues. There’s no anger in his voice. Not any longer. Instead, there’s sadness. “They left me for dead. They left me to bleed out in some godforsaken jungle far from everyone I’ve ever known. The last thing I remember before landing here is a fucking black jaguar coming out of the trees.” Mzimu’s voice goes raspy with horror. “I couldn’t move. I could only watch as it got closer. Those teeth got closer. Approaching m-me from the—” he stops. Lifts a hand and gingerly touches the right side of his face.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie says.

Mzimu glares at her. “Why are you sorry? Did you put me in that jungle? Did you tell my partner—a man I worked with for years and considered one of my closest goddamned friends—to shoot me in the back? No.” Mzimu’s feline eyes glow in the dim light.

“Mzimu,” Brother Haze says in a warning tone. He slows his steps so he’s walking at pace with his husband. He takes the jaguar demon’s hand and pulls him a little closer. Haze takes a deep breath and blows a cloud of smoke from his mouth into Mzimu’s face. The smoke goes up the other demon’s nostrils and the anger bleeds away.

“Thanks,” Mzimu murmurs.

Brother Haze nods. He gives the other demon a soft kiss before breaking away. “Death is a sensitive topic. It’s true for most Sinners. Often, if you end up down here, it’s most likely from an ugly end or am I wrong?”

Alastor, Vox, and Vaggie remain silent, but Husk offers that he didn’t.

Brother Haze turns to him. “Oh?”

“Natural causes,” Husk says.

“Really? How old were you?”

“In my seventies.” Husk chuckles. “I died in my seventies in the seventies. Ha!”

Brother Haze hums. “Most people are able to live longer than seventy.”

Husk’s smile falls. “Yeah, well. Let’s just say I did some hard living that would’ve made that impossible. I’m lucky I got that far.”

“Lucky,” Brother Haze repeats. He turns around and walks back to Husk. He does a slow circle around the cat demon. “You know, I’m probably not the first to realize this, but our forms down here often have some relation to the way we died. A constant reminder of our last moments given literal form.” Brother Haze lowers his sunglasses and looks at the cat demon. There are pair of glowing yellow eyes set in his glass-like face. “You say you died of natural causes, so I gotta ask…” he gestures at Husk.

Husk growls and his fur bristles. “How the hell should I know?” he spits. “I didn’t ask to look like this!”

Brother Haze holds up his hands in apology. “Simmer down. I meant no harm. It was just a question.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I should be asking you? What kinda death did you have that results in you fucking having a bong for a head?”

         As slow as melting wax, Brother Haze’s smile becomes a frown and the warm, blanket-like comfort from his smoke is gone. Now the smoke burns their nostrils. It chokes them. They feel the sensation of thousands of needles piercing their flesh. Their deepest, darkest fears appear as phantasms whispering and jeering at them. The walls of the tunnel bubble and warp as the floor beneath them shakes. Hands reach up, formed from the stone of the floor and claw blindly at them.

         Alastor claws at his throat. He looks for Vox, but there’s too much smoke. He can’t even see the glow from the other Overlord’s screen. He tries to call for Vox, but the attempt chokes him.

         Sensatia has by now walked back to them. “Haze,” she says, voice filled with stern disapproval.

         It stops.

         Brother Haze takes a deep breath and the tunnel refills with fresh smoke. The unpleasantness of the past moments is forgotten. Brother Haze gives them an apologetic laugh. “My apologies,” he rubs at the back of his neck. “I suppose I can dish it out but can’t take it. To answer your question, Mr. Kitty I was burned alive. They covered me in gasoline and used my bong to incinerate me. A most un-groovy way to go.”

         “Not as un-groovy as being trapped in an underground tunnel,” Sensatia comments.

         Brother Haze gives her a look. “Baby, I don’t think my experience and yours quite match up. I was awake and you were so high that you pretty much died in your sleep.”

         Sensatia puts her hands on her hips. “I only got that high as a way to cope with the fact that I was trapped in the tunnel!”

         Brother Haze opens his mouth then closes it. He shrugs. “Fair enough,” he relents.

         “Why were you in a tunnel in the first place?” Charlie asks.

         “Hiding out from the Man,” Sensatia answers. She scowls. “Our commune got raided.”

         Brother Haze nods. “We had a little fink in our midst. He was feeding lies to the pigs, beat feet like the coward he was, and left us to deal with the fallout.” The smoke demon throws open a door and gestures them forward. “Here we are! Welcome!”

         Alastor blinks, dazed.

         They’re outside. And not just any outside.

         No, the demons find themselves standing in the middle of a grassy meadow beneath a clear, sunny sky. Not the crimson sky and scarlet sun of Hell but the blue skies and golden sun of the Land of the Living. There’s a crystal blue pond beneath a tree—a tree! A tree with no hidden eyes or waiting predatory vines or mouth waiting to gobble up unsuspecting demons.

         They stand there, gaping like fools as Brother Haze takes a seat on the grass. He sits, crisscrossing his legs. Sensatia dances near the pond, swaying to a song only she can hear. Mzimu wordlessly takes a seat beneath the lone tree.

         For the first time, Alastor finds himself at a loss for words. He kneels, takes off a glove, and presses his naked palm against the grass. Unlike the plants of Hell, it doesn’t wilt at his touch. It feels…warm. The sunlight feels warm. Just warm. Not sweltering. Pleasant. The grass smells sweet. He runs over to the water and peers down at it. It’s perfectly clear. He touches it and revels in the coolness of it.

         Behind him, Vaggie breaks down in tears and Charlie looks unsure of what to do. She doesn’t understand. Why would she? Hell is all she’s ever known. She has no idea why they’re acting this way. This entire landscape is alien to her.

         Husk surrenders to his feline nature and basks in the sun. He lays on his back, twisting and rolling in the grass with the biggest grin on his face.

         Vox spreads his arms wide and tilts his head back so he can feel the warmth of the sun. He grins before running over to Alastor. He pulls the deer demon up and laughing the two of them do an impromptu waltz through the grass.

         Charlie turns to look at Brother Haze who sits and watches them silently. Hell’s princess narrows her eyes. “You’re an Overlord.”

         That causes both Vox and Alastor to freeze. They stare at the smoke demon.

         Brother Haze grimaces. “I’m not. Well, not officially. I guess, I could be but—” he waves a hand. “I never saw the appeal. If you ask me, being an Overlord is all show and no go.” At their blank expressions he clarifies, “Means it looks good on paper but…” he shrugs. “You got all that power and status, but it comes with a bunch of strings attached. No sir. Not for me. Plus, I ain’t looking for extra work. I got everything I need. I got my family, and I got my congregation. The rest is just hassle.”

         Alastor stares. Never in his entire time down here has he ever met someone strong enough to be an Overlord but chose not to be because it was “a hassle.”

         Thankfully the Media Overlord is there to properly vocalize what the Radio Demon is feeling. “So, you just opted out?” Vox says in disbelief. “You can’t do that!”

         Brother Haze’s sunglasses glint. “And why not?”

         Vox doesn’t have an answer.

         Brother Haze sighs. He spreads his arms. “This isn’t real,” he tells them. “It’s just an extension of my power. It feels real though, doesn’t it?”

         It does. It really does. Alastor glances back at Vaggie who kneels next to Charlie, running her hands along the grass, as if trying to recommit it to memory.

         Brother Haze nods. “Have a seat,” he instructs them. The smoke on top of his head forms a long tunnel that trails up into the sky like a chimney. “We are currently sitting in a windowless box of a room. There’s no grass. No sun. No blue sky. Nothing. What you’re feeling and seeing is all me.”

         Alastor shakes his head. “How,” he demands. For fuck’s sake, he touched that water. He felt the moisture.

         “It’s just my power,” Haze tells him. He looks at Alastor and Vox. “You wanna know another reason I don’t bother with that whole Overlord shit? Because I know what a headache comes with it. Always having to jockey against some other demon wanting to fight over your territory. Having to prove you’re strong enough to keep the title. Constant strife, my brothers. Never being able to rely on others because it makes you look weak.”

         Vox looks away.

         “But the main reason I don’t exert my power is because of him,” he points at Charlie. “Your daddy, little princess.”

         She blinks. “What about him?”

         “Princess, let me tell you something you probably don’t realize since you’re Hellborn: this place is meant to be a place of suffering.”

         Charlie bristles. “I know that,” she says snippily.

         “Do you?” Mzimu asks, his tone so scathing that Charlie lowers her eyes.

         “I don’t think you fully grasp what your daddy has made,” Brother Haze tells her. “From the outsider’s viewpoint this place is no different than the world we left behind, minus some things. We work, eat food, get drunk, get high, and fuck. The biggest difference is our forms. But scratch the surface and you notice things are…off. Mr. Alastor, you cook?”

         Alastor nods.

         “Ever notice how the foods you cook don’t taste right? Not wrong per se, but not quite how you remember?”

         The deer demon hesitates. He has noticed that. “I just figured it had to do with the animals and produce available here.”

         Brother Haze snaps his fingers and points at Alastor. “It is that. It’s part of the torture and it’s ingenious! It’s close enough to home to make you feel that sweet ache of what you once had and can never have again. You tell yourself it’s fine, but it eats away at you. The thing you cooked is passable, but deep down you remember what it should taste like. Maybe you have memories associated with it, and that just burns you more.” Brother Haze smiles. “So, you find something to distract yourself. Numb that missing feeling. Make yourself feel good or maybe make yourself remember some of those good times. Drugs, sex, or toys. Whatever keeps you going. Meanwhile, you got all these fools running around killing each other over ‘prime territory.’ Chaos and bloodshed all around and Lucifer doesn’t have to lift a finger. We’re literally making our own Hells. It’s kinda smart.”

         “But what does that have to do with you?” Charlie demands. Brother Haze notices she looks irritated, so he breathes a little more and the princess’s face relaxes.

         “Didn’t you see how your friends reacted the second they stepped into here?”

         Charlie cuts her eyes to Vaggie who still looks down at the grass, despite knowing it wasn’t real. “Yeah.”

         “I relieve people, Princess Charlie. Look, we’re Sinners. We’re not supposed to find peace down here. At best, we’re supposed to be apathetic to our situation and just deal. But I,” he breathes out a cloud of smoke and at the same time it puffs from his head. “Offer people an alternative. I am the closest thing to peace Sinners have in Hell and that’s not good.” He pops his neck before looking deeply at Alastor.

         The scenery changes.

         They stand in front of a sidewalk on a busy street. People—humans, mill about, going about their business. The air is humid and hot. There’s a smell of something fried wafting from an open window somewhere.

         Alastor trembles. This wasn’t fair…

         “Where are we,” Husk asks. He steps back instinctively as a group of young girls run by. They don’t seem to notice him. No one seems to notice any of them. The young girls crowd around a friend who flaunts her newly cropped hair and models her dropped waist dress to the disapproval of some nearby older women.

         Alastor stares up at a building. He knows this place. “Alastor?” the deer demon hears Vox’s call for him, but he sounds so far away.

         He knows this building with its mixture of Renaissance and Baroque style, ten stories (ten stories so that placed them before 1928 before the eighteen additional stories were added), and the heady scent of chrysanthemums and roses.

         “I know this place,” Alastor whispers. He looks over at Brother Haze who hasn’t moved from his original position but now sits on a sidewalk. Humans walk through him as if he isn’t there and he seems unbothered by this fact. Mzimu now sits under the awning of a nearby barber while Sensatia dances around a parked automobile.

         Brother Haze looks around. “Looks like a nice place,” he comments airily. “Where are we?”

“You don’t know,” Alastor asks, accusation heavy in his tone.

Brother Haze shakes his head.  “I don’t always know where we end up. I just draw from fond memories.”

         Alastor swallows. “That is the Jung Hotel,” he says softly. “Before the additional construction. We’re on Canal Street…in New Orleans.” His voice breaks. “My home.”

         Brother Haze brightens. “Get outta town! You’re from New Orleans?” He gestures at himself then at Mzimu and Sensatia (who has danced her way over to him). “Mississippi! Well, how about that!”

         Alastor tears his eyes away from the Jung Hotel to look at Haze. His mood momentarily lifts at the idea of meeting other Southerners after so long. “You don’t say! What a small world! Where in Mississippi?”

         Brother Haze points at himself. “Born in Magee but ended up in Biloxi.”

         “I’m from Gulfport,” Sensatia says. “But I had kinfolk all over. Even had a few cousins leave for Louisiana. Shreveport, if you can believe.” She scowls. “Couldn’t be me. That’s Klan territory.”

         “Natchez,” Mzimu offers.

         Alastor grins. “Biloxi and Gulfport! Why, that makes us neighbors!”

         They laugh and both Brother Haze and Mzimu get to their feet. The trio surround Alastor and begin talking about various things and commiserating over how it was hard to find someone in Hell who knew how to make decent sweet tea. Alastor confessed he wasn’t a big tea drinker or fond of sweets but sometimes you just needed a cold glass after a long day.

         “I went to a café and the woman gave me an iced tea with the sugar at the bottom,” he tells them. “Can you believe it? She didn’t see what the issue was either!”

         Mzimu shakes his head. “I swear, you’d think there was nothing but Yankees in Hell. You hear about that fool on TV who was trying to pass himself off as a Cajun cook? Heard he got his ass beat into a coma. I’ve seen his show. He got off easy. You ever seen his recipe for shrimp creole? Ketchup as the base. The fucking audacity!”

         Alastor waves a hand excitedly. “That was me! I wanted to kill him, but Vox pulled me off!” He then tells them about the “jambalaya” that DePlume made and the three demons scowl and hiss in disgust.

         Charlie looks between the four demons, disbelieving. “Alastor! Focus!”

         Alastor looks over at her. “What’s wrong, Charlie?”

         “What’s wrong? A few seconds ago, you were close to tears! Now you're best friends?”

         The Radio Demon shakes his head. “I was overcome with emotion, yes but it was the joy sort. Nostalgia, my dear!” he spins. “Canal Street! The Jung Hotel! I spent a lovely night here!”

         Mzimu looks skeptical. He glances at some of the humans coming in and out of the hotel. “Pardon me for asking, but would you have been allowed to be in that hotel? I listen to your show, and I could’ve sworn you called yourself Colored once or twice.”

         Alastor laughs. “Oh yes indeedy, I am. Mother was Negro and Creole, but Father was White and Creole.” He touches his face. “I got enough of my father’s blood to pass. Once I moved out of my old neighborhood, I was able to take full advantage. I browned enough in the sun to get some questions about my origins, but you couldn’t imagine how easy it was to lie!” Alastor chuckles at the memories. “Wealthy white people seem to be under the idea that wealth compensates for intelligence! They were so gullible! Some thought I was the estranged son of an Italian nobleman, sent to America. Others thought I was the result of a dalliance between a Parisian bureaucrat and a Castilian mistress. Not even sure how that rumor came about.” Alastor wipes away tears of mirth. “People are so dumb.”

         Charlie can’t believe this. “Could we – could we go somewhere else?” She asks Brother Haze. “I think we need to get back to the conversation at hand.”

         Brother Haze nods. Canal Street disappears and they find themselves in a small box of an office. Despite both the meadow and street having been clear and the air smelling clean, there’s a thick fog in the room. The smoke is so thick that they can only see the glittering of Haze’s red glasses, Mzimu’s green eyes, and the glowing spots on Sensatia’s cap as well as the soft white glow of her cap’s gills.  “Have a seat,” Haze gestures at bean bag chairs on the floor.

         There’s no dignified way to sit on bean bags chairs, but they find themselves having more trouble now that the effects of Brother Haze’s smoke are back in full effect. Alastor jumps when he feels a pair of thin arms wrapping around his waist. He looks over his shoulder and sees Vox staring back with a sluggish smile. The TV Demon lets out a soft laugh then lets his head drop against Alastor’s neck. His forehead presses against the deer demon’s shoulders and Alastor hears the soft rhythmic breathing of slumber.

         Brother Haze’s glasses turn in Alastor’s direction. “Seems your friend is getting clingy.” Alastor can hear the amusement in his voice. “You want some help removing him?”

         Alastor places a hand on one of the arms currently encircling him. “No!” He snaps. Alastor swears under his breath then repeats, softer this time, “No. That’s quite alright. He’s fine where he is.” Then remembering his manners, the Radio Demon tacks on a hasty, “But thank you.”

         “Right on,” Haze responds. The lenses move to look at Charlie and Alastor breathes a sigh of relief. “Now where were we?”

         Charlie’s eyelids droop but she shakes her head. “You were saying…um. Oh! You were saying that it wasn’t good that people found peace with you.”

         “That’s right. Your daddy ain’t my biggest fan. And if I learned anything from life and my subsequent death, it's sometimes better to keep your head down and not provoke the people in charge.”

         “I don’t understand,” Charlie tells him.

         Brother Haze sighs. “Princess, when we were alive. My wife and I were the heads of a little congregation. The Temple of Self-Reflection and Empowerment.”

         Sensatia’s spots bob as the demoness moves closer. “We were a cult,” she says. “Or at least that’s what they called us.”

         Brother Haze hums in agreement. “Never liked that. In my mind, we weren’t a cult. We were a commune of consenting adults who lived together, got high together, and occasionally fucked together. We grew our own food, minded our own business, and didn’t bother anyone.”

         “That…doesn’t sound so bad,” Charlie admits. “So, what made them so angry at you?”

         “Oh, we were very vocal about our support of the desegregation efforts,” Haze explains. “Our congregation was mixed. White, Colored, we even had a few Mexicans.”

         “Made it a real hassle when we had to travel,” Sensatia interjects. “Especially when we drove through sundown towns. We used to have our white members sleep during the day and drive at night while we hid under blankets.”

         “Mm-hmm,” Brother Haze agrees. “We weren’t popular. I mean, bad enough we were godless hippie communists, but we were anti-segregationists as well! Nail in the coffin, as my mama used to say.”

         Alastor listens, fascinated. In his time, the idea of a world without segregation would have been so far-fetched that he couldn’t even call it a fantasy! But from what he’s gathering from this conversation, there were people who tried to change that. “Were you successful,” he blurts. “I mean, the movement. What happened?”

         Mzimu’s eyes turn to Alastor and scrutinize him. Brother Haze turns to look at him as well. Though he can’t see her eyes Alastor imagines Sensatia is studying him as well.

         “That’s right,” Haze says slowly. “You would’ve been down here. Yeah, it passed. Schools were integrated, a Civil Rights law was signed, and Jim Crow was no more. Well, slowly.” Brother Haze says. “Suffice it to say, the process wasn’t welcomed with open arms.”

         Alastor sits there, mulling over this information. Sinners have a bad habit of not caring about world events after their deaths. Why should they care? They were already dead. Alastor used to be of that mindset, but now…

         A world without segregation…

         A world where his family could have been whole instead of just him and his mother receiving letters and envelopes of money from his father. A world where his existence didn’t mean his father having to pay for their passage to New Orleans at night, lest his new in-laws find out about his mixed-race bastard and drown both him and his mother in the swamp. A world where he could have attended his father’s funeral not as a stranger offering condolence, but as his son.

         What would that world even look like?

         He wonders what else has happened since he’s been gone. What’s happening up there right now?

         “Anyway,” Brother Haze says. “It's right around the time of the trial for those fucks who killed those three Freedom Summer workers that we got ourselves a new member. Samuel Holmes.”

         “Motherfucking Samuel Holmes,” Sensatia repeats in a snarl. “Fucker!”

         “Mm-hmm. Mr. Holmes found our farm and laid it on nice and thick. Said all the right words. Wanted to become a member, he said. Looking for a new path of peace, he said. It was all a load of shit. He was a plant. Sent there by the powers that be to dig up some dirt to justify shutting us down. Unfortunately for Sammy boy, he didn’t find anything too bad. Nothing to warrant a raid or to put us away forever like the pigs wanted. At worst we would have gotten indecency charges for the group sex.”

         “Would have been worse if we allowed kids,” Sensatia pipes up.

         “That’s right. Oooo-wee! They would have torn down our doors! Protective services always make a stink when you got children among you. Call you a ‘corrupting influence’ even though I don’t see how I was being corrupting. Most of my sermons stressed the importance of empathy, doing your equal share, no person above another, and making the world a better place through acts of kindness and compassion instead of ugliness and hate. But what do I know? That’s why I said no children. Anyway, old Sammy had a hard time finding any dirt on us, so he started making up shit. I never found out what he told them, but it was bad enough that they swarmed the farm. Busted everything up, stomped our crops, trashed my temple, and murdered me.”

         “I’m sorry,” Charlie says, reflexively. She winces.

         Brother Haze takes it in stride. “That’s fine, Princess. It is what it is. It was a learning experience.” His voice hardens. “I learned a lot that day. The one thing I haven’t learned is where ol Sammy got to. I know he’s down here, but I’m not sure where. Well, we got all our Afterlife to find out. Don’t we, Sensatia?”

         “Yes, we do.” Sensatia’s spots move closer.

“But what does that have to do with my dad?”

“Well,” Brother Haze says. “As long as I take some caution, your daddy leaves me be. I got some unwritten rules to keep me and mine safe. My congregation stays small. I don’t seek out new members. If Sinners somehow hear about us and want to find me, they’re welcome but I don’t make it easy.”

“This building was marked,” Alastor points out.

“Because we were expecting you. And we’re not going to be here once you’re gone. We stay in this neighborhood, but the door’s never in the same place. My members are allowed to leave, but I tell them that if they aren’t back before the door changes then they’ll have to search just like anybody else. Not that many feel the need to leave. Our home sustains itself. We got a farm and garden so we’re good on food.”

“What about power?” Charlie asks. “Utilities?”

Haze chuckles. “Well, that’s kept on by a generous benefactor.”

“Who?” the princess asks, though she suspects she already knows.

“Your father.”

“But why—” she stops. “To keep you from needing to go out because the less you need to go out—”

“The less other Sinners know about us,” Brother Haze finishes. “And to offer us a little incentive to adhere to our rules. Keep our heads down and all that. It might seem like selling out, but it keeps us safe. And this time, I will keep my congregation safe. I will keep my family safe.”

Charlie sits back, stunned. This was all news to her. Sensatia suddenly gasps. “I’ve been a horrible hostess!” A hand appears from the fog. There are tiny mushrooms sitting in Sensatia’s cupped palm. “Would you like some?”

         For a moment the smoke clears enough that Alastor sees Brother Haze’s face frowning with concern. “Uh, Sensatia? Maybe you shouldn’t—”

         Husk scrambles forward and plucks up a mushroom. He throws it into his mouth and chews.

 “Oh my gosh,” Charlie gushes. “Thank you! I didn’t want to say anything, but I’ve been super hungry for a while.” Charlie takes one and hands one to Vaggie. They both eat the mushrooms with the same gusto as Husk.

Alastor wants one, but he’s afraid that if he moves, he’ll wake Vox. He can’t have that. It would be rude. The TV-headed demon must be so comfortable. It would be a shame to wake him. The deer demon gives the arm he has his hand on a gentle pat. He feels the arms tighten slightly and hears Vox’s contented sigh. Both stir an emotion inside the deer demon.

Yeah, no. Vox is staying put.

“Sens,” Mzimu says, and Alastor can hear the disappointment in his voice. “We’ve talked about this.”

Sensatia hums happily. “They’re fine,” she tells her husband.

It’s hard to see given his current position but Alastor’s not sure they are fine. He can hear an intense purring coming from somewhere behind him. He turns his head and sees Husk lolling about on the floor, playing with his tail.

“Princess Charlie,” Haze’s voice cuts through the fog. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel…okay?” Charlie blinks. “I mean, I feel good! So good! Vaggie! Vaggie, how do you feel?”

The moth demoness hasn’t said much this entire time, but she turns slowly to her girlfriend. “Cosmic dust adrift on the breeze. Shapeless, boundless, untethered. We were born of the dark and to the dark we shall return.”

“Uh-oh,” Brother Haze mutters.

“I totally get that,” Charlie says and squishes her cheeks with her hands. She stops, pulls them away, and just stares. “Hey, what’s up with hands? Have you ever just looked at them? They are so weird! I mean, look at them! So weird!”

“I don’t even have hands,” Husk comments. He lifts his paws. “That’s wild!”

Charlie turns back in the direction of Brother Haze. “So, my dad is doing all this covert stuff to keep Sinners from realizing that it’s possible to be happy in Hell? Okay, well he can keep doing that! I’m trying to handle the overpopulation problem!” she flops onto her stomach and starts shimmying toward him. “Help me!”

Brother Haze considers her. He sighs. “Princess, did you listen to my story?”

“I did! But I don’t get it! Why are you even in Hell? None of what you did even sounds bad!” Charlie rolls over onto her back and stares at her fingers. “You weren’t even a creepy kind of cult! The ones that force their members to give up their possessions or steal money! Or commit group suicide! Why are you even here? You’re so nice!”

“Well, thank you.” Brother Haze replies. “And I’m glad you’ve asked that question because it will allow me to bring up an issue with your hotel. Princess, how are you going to decide who gets to pursue redemption and who doesn’t?”

Charlie frowns. “I mean…I’m not going to turn demons away! If they want to redeem themselves then who am I to stop them?”

“Ah, you see that’s where you gotta stop and think, Charlie. Not every Sinner should have the right to redemption. Not all sins are equal. A man who was a thief isn’t equal to a man who spent his life raping and killing. Right?”

Charlie pauses from staring at hands. “Right,” she agrees.

“But according to you, they should get an equal chance to get to Heaven?”

“Well…”

“You asked why I’m down here? Well, let me hit with something heavy. I’m here because of me. Let me explain. See, the way I figure, there are Sinners like Sensatia and me who don’t really do enough bad things to warrant being sent to Hell, so like your father God lets us do the work for Him.”

Charlie blinks. “I don’t get it.”

“Guilt, princess. I’m in Hell because when I died and was standing in front of those Gates awaiting my judgment, despite not really doing anything too terrible in my life, I believed I should be in Hell and here I am. My own guilt tipped the scales.”

Charlie considers that. “So, you’re saying…?”

“Princess, what do you think is the first step of someone seeking redemption?”

“Sorrow never ending,” Vaggie says. “Sadness chewing away at our insides, leaving us hollow and empty. A ceaseless cycle. We are the serpent devouring our own tails.”

Brother Haze’s glasses lower and his eyes study the moth demon for a moment. “Right,” he says loudly after sliding his shades back into place. “Regret. The first step is regret. Princess Charlie, when you find yourself some Sinners that are actually sorry about what they did when they were alive then you’ll have what you need.”

“Residents!”

“Mm-hmm.” Brother Haze grunts as he climbs to his feet. “Well, I think we should send you on your way. This has been nice.”

“But,” Charlie whines. “How do I find Sinners who are regretful?”

“Well, you don’t have to find them. They saw your interview. I guarantee that they’ll come to you. And when they do, just interview them.”

“Yeah,” Charlie says, slowly. “Yeah!” she repeats, but with more confidence. “Oh my gosh, this could work! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She suddenly gasps. “Will you get in trouble with my dad for helping me?” she whispers.

“I’m not sure,” Brother Haze admits. “But I like what you’re doing. You’ve got a good heart, Princess Charlie. Now, let’s get you folks outside.”

Alastor gives Vox another gentle pat. The TV Demon stirs and blinks at the Radio Demon. “Time to go,” Alastor tells him.

“Mmkay,” Vox replies. He rubs his eyes and lets Alastor help him stand.

Brother Haze, Mzimu, and Sensatia lead them back to the front and call for Cleave. Brother Haze nods at them. “It was a gas having y’all here. Alastor? Gimme some skin, brother.” Haze holds out a hand. When Alastor does the same, the smoke demon slaps his palm, grips his hand, and pulls him close for a hug. “Keep it groovy, Radio Demon.”

Alastor can’t find it in himself to be annoyed with this breach in his personal bubble. He gives Haze a hearty clap on the back. “Ah, yes. You as well,” he says haltingly, unsure of what ‘groovy’ even means.

Sensatia pops up behind Brother Haze and extends her hand, displaying a few more tiny mushrooms. “One more for the road?”

Mzimu pulls her back. “Absolutely not,” he growls even as Husk reaches for one. Mzimu smacks at his paw. “No!”

Husk hisses at him and Mzimu hisses right back.

Brother Haze places a hand on his husband’s face and pushes him back through the door. He sighs. “Well, Princess. It was lovely meeting you. Are you good on getting back home?”

Charlie looks up from where she had been kneeling on the sidewalk holding a conversation with something only she could see. She jumps to her feet. “Yep!” She gives Haze two thumbs up and smiles. “We’ll be fine, right Vaggie?”

“Blissful ignorance. Charitable situations. We bask in the glow of the day.”

Charlie laughs then abruptly stops. She cups Vaggie’s face in her hands. “You’re so pretty,” Charlie says. “So, so, so pretty! I love your face.”

Brother Haze frowns. He looks worriedly over his shoulder and seems to take a moment weigh his options. He shrugs. “Well, alright. Safe travels.” He takes a step back and the wall seals.

The three symbols: the cloud of smoke, the right side of a jaguar’s face, and the mushroom glow brightly for a second before fading away.

“Well,” Charlie says and puts her hands on her hips. “They were super nice.”

“Indeed,” Alastor nods in agreement. “A little strange, but nice.”

“Mm-hmm.”

They stand there for a moment.

Charlie’s face scrunches. “Anyone else really fucking hungry?”

“Yes!”

“Yes!”

“Starving!”

“Oh my God, yes.” Alastor exclaims. “I’ve been strangely ravenous since the beginning of the meeting.”

“Ahem.”

They turn. The strange demoness still sits in her chair next to her truck. She looks at them, raises a fist and bangs it once against the side of her truck. The truck shakes for a moment before an awning lifts, revealing a counter. A sign unfurls from the bottom of the awning that reads in bold lettering:

Tyreza’s Tacos

It takes a second for the sign to register through the fog in their brains.

“Tacos!” Vox, Husk, Vaggie, and Charlie screech.

“I don’t know what those are, but I want one!” Alastor throws up his arms in excitement.

They run over to the taco truck just as the demon takes her place behind the counter.

Tyreza’s Tacos boasts a variety of taco types and fillings. Alastor selects tongues and is delighted when Tyreza asks if he wants beef or “other”. He gets four tacos in corn tortillas, two beef and two “others.”

“Goodness,” Alastor says when he sees the chopped up non-beef tongues. His eyes glitter as he scrutinizes Tyreza. “Wherever did you find these ingredients?”

Tyreza looks at Alastor and now that they’re all closer, they see she has compact eyes as green as a beetle’s shell. “I don’t divulge my suppliers,” she says in a husky voice.

Alastor chuckles. “Fair enough.”

They sit on the curb, noisily eating their tacos as Tyreza cleans up her truck. She retakes her seat and counts her money.

“Are you always here?” Charlie asks, mouthful of food.

“Yes.”

“Why? This place is so empty!”

Tyreza pauses from counting her stack of cash, an eyebrow arched incredulous. “Let’s just say that I make quite a bit of money from staying near Brother Haze and his people.”

“Really?” Charlie asks, spraying spittle and chewed bits of food. “How come?”

Tyreza blinks at her. She slowly surveys the group. Husk has long since finished his tacos and drinks his birria sauce from its cup. Vox has four tacos on his lap and two in his hands and swivels his head to take a bite from each. Vaggie has her face shoved into her taco, the lower half of her face covered with bits of shredded pork and red onion. Charlie has somehow gotten a slice of avocado in her hair and has yet to notice. Alastor has eaten all his tacos and now sits slumped groggily against Vox’s back. “I guess people just really like my tacos,” she says in a dry tone.

“They’re really good,” the princess tells her. She finally notices the avocado, picks it from her hair, stares at it for a moment before tossing it in her mouth. “What are you going to do now that they moved?”

“My truck runs. Their den stays in this neighborhood. I usually just drive around until the smell brings them out.”

“Wow,” Charlie says. “Well, I wish you luck!” She licks her fingers clean. “Well, everyone! I think we should get back to the hotel. Oh! By the way, we run the Hazbin Hotel! It’s a demon rehabilitation center with the goal of—”

“Yeah, I saw your interview.”

“Oh! Cool! Would you be interested—”

“I’m good.” Tyreza pulls out her phone.

Charlie frowns then shrugs. “Okie dokie! Bye, Tereza! Thanks for the tacos.”

“Thanks for the money.”

They return to the hotel with full bellies and high spirits. “We’re home!” Charlie announces.

Husk runs to Angel and embraces him. “Baby! I missed you. I had tacos!”

Angel Dust sniffs. “Husk, are you high?!”

“Yep! Super high! We spent most of the time getting hotboxed. Then I had a shroom. It was amazing!”

The spider demon stands there agape. “Un-fucking-believable! The one time I don’t participate in your bullshit is the time I miss out on weed, mushrooms, and tacos?!”

“We learned so, so much,” Charlie tells Angel. “I need to go write stuff down! Scuse me!” She walks off in the direction of her office.

Husk heads for the stairs. “I’m going to break out my records and keep this feeling going,” he tells Angel.

Angel Dust shakes his head. “Where’s Alastor and Vox?”

“I’unno.”

“You don’t know? Vox and Alastor are probably just as high as the rest of you, and you don’t know where they are?!”

Husk blinks at his boyfriend. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you? It still doesn’t address my current concerns!”

“Angel, why are you yelling?” Alastor asks as he stumbles inside. He rubs his eyes and looks around.

“Where’s Vox?”

The deer demon walks past him without speaking. “Alastor?” Angel presses.

“Briar came to pick him up. He went back home.”

The spider demon breathes a sigh of relief. Well, that was one less thing to worry about. “Wait.” Angel Dust’s brow furrows. He looks at Husk, then at Alastor, and then in the direction where Charlie went. Something was…

“Holy shit! Where’s Vaggie?” Angel Dust pushes Husk away and runs outside. For fuck’s sake, this must be what parenthood feels like. Constantly running around trying to keep track of the locations of idiots. “Vaggie!”

Angel Dust trips over something in front of the doorway and goes sprawling. “What the flying—Vaggie?!”

Vaggie lays curled up her side like a cat. She looks at Angel briefly before closing her eye and returns to napping.

Angel Dust huffs. He gets to his feet and brushes off the dust. Muttering under his breath, he picks up the moth demon, and carries her inside.

Chapter Text

Charlie beams at the assembled group. She stands in front of a whiteboard, covered with a sheet. “Thank you all for joining me today,” she says.

Angel Dust glares at her. “You kinda didn’t leave us a choice when you made Al come get us.” He side-eyes the deer demon.

Alastor gives the spider demon a smug smile. “What’s the matter, Angel? Didn’t enjoy the cold water?”

“I go into Ozzie’s in the morning to do my paperwork and training, so excuse me for wanting to enjoy the last morning I’m able to sleep in!”

Charlie claps her hands. “Guys, focus please!” She clears her throat. “So, we had an awesome conversation with Brother Haze who pointed out some…flaws with my initial redemption plan.”

“Namely, that you would risk getting Sinners who don’t deserve it into Heaven,” Alastor says.

Charlie droops for a moment before she clears her throat and nods. “Yes. Namely that. Now, I spent some time devising some ideas of how to weed out those proverbial bad eggs.” She takes off the sheet and displays a whiteboard. “These are some ideas I had last night!”

Alastor tilts his head. “‘Chimken Supreme sandwich but with grilled cheese sandwiches instead of buns’?”

Angel Dust squints. “‘Donut stuffed with icing, crushed cookies, V&V’s, and chocolate sauce’?”

Husk strokes his chin. “‘Burrito stuffed with nachos and sour cream’?”

Charlie whips around. “Whoops,” she chuckles as she tries to use her body to shield the board. “Those were just some food ideas I had last night when I was feeling…peckish.” The Princess clears her throat and flips the board to the other side. “ These are my ideas!”

“Charlie,” Vaggie sighs. “Does that say, ‘obstacle course’?”

“Yep!” She bounces on her toes. “What do you think?”

Alastor rubs his eyes. “I seem to recall that Haze suggested waiting for the Sinners to come to us.”

“But I can’t wait!” Charlie protests. “The next Cleansing is in two months!”

The Radio Demon rolls his eyes. “Yes? And? Do you honestly think that you’ll perfectly reform Angel enough to get Heaven’s attention?  That you’ll find, approve, and reform additional Sinners in that allotted time?”

The Princess of Hell pouts. She reaches back and rubs a hand across the board, smudging the words. She walks over to the couch where Vaggie sits and drops onto the cushion next to her girlfriend who puts an arm around her.

“I’m sure they were amazing ideas,” Vaggie tells her.

Alastor snorts. “Doubtful.” Vaggie glares daggers at him. “What? You want me to lie to her?”

“You are such a fucking—” Vaggie starts to say. She stops and bites back a snarl. “Ignore him, Charlie.”

“No,” Charlie sighs. “No. He’s right. I shouldn’t be in such a rush.” She brushes a strand of hair out her face. She slaps her thighs before getting to her feet. “We still need to do our commercial. Let’s focus on getting this place as ready as possible before then! Alastor, have you gotten with Vox about your voice over?”

The deer demon bites his tongue. He hasn’t heard from Vox recently; the secret phone hasn’t had one text.

“I…have not.” Alastor’s smiling face betrays nothing even as his guts twist with worry. He’s half tempted to send his shadow to spy on the TV Demon except he doesn’t want to betray Vox’s trust.

Charlie’s face creases with worry. “Is everything okay?” she asks. “Between you two? I’m happy to give you relationship advice.”

Yeah, no. This meeting is over.

Alastor gets to his feet. “Well, this has been fun but I’m going for a walk.” He heads for the door before any of them can stop him. What he needs is some fresh air and to clear his head. Alastor walks down the sidewalk, humming to himself. As usual, his carefree approach causes the demons around him to cower.

It does wonders for his spirit.

His mood takes a downward turn once more when a familiar pink limo pulls up beside him. Alastor sneers but keeps walking.

The limo creeps next to him. A window rolls down and a cloud of pink smoke rolls out. “Hello, Alastor,” the voice inside purrs.

“Fuck off,” Alastor replies curtly.

“Oh, don’t be that way. I’m just here to talk. I promise.”

The deer demon snorts. As if the moth demon’s promises mean anything. “What do you want, Valentino?”

The limo comes to a stop and the door opens. Valentino points to the seat across from his. “Care to join me?”

Alastor narrows his eyes. There’s a challenge in that invitation. A dare. He does a quick glance around and notices a few demons watching openly.

Ah. So, that’s how it is.

If Alastor refuses, Valentino can spin it as an act of cowardice. The big bad Radio Demon was too afraid to get in the car with him.

Fine. Alastor would play his game. He wasn’t afraid of Valentino.

“Very well,” Alastor smiles. “My feet were getting a bit tired anyway.” He climbs inside and the door closes behind him.

The inside of Valentino’s limo is gaudy and hideous. “Nice to see you were able to replace your old vehicle with an exact replica. God forbid you try to have a little taste.”

Valentino smokes languidly on his cigarette. Two Sinner demonesses pillow their heads on his thighs, smiling as his lower hands pet their heads. One of the demonesses has a lipless maw of sharp teeth and bone white skin and tentacles for hair. The other has purple skin, and six glowing yellow eyes. She has plump lips but when she opens her mouth to yawn, a lamprey-like tongue slithers out.

Alastor barely spares them a glance. “What do you want?”

Valentino laughs. “Straight to business?”

“I find it best not to tarry with the likes of you,” the Radio Demon says coolly.

Valentino blows out a ring of smoke. “Scared?”

“Irritated.”

“Hmph.” Valentino takes another drag. He sits there for a moment before he says, “I haven’t heard from Vox.”

Alastor says nothing.

Valentino looks annoyed. “I’ve never gone this long without getting a text from him or a call. He should be asking me to take him back, but he hasn’t.” At Alastor’s continued silence, Valentino lets out a bestial snarl. “This is your fault!”

“Really? I would have thought the fault lies with the person who tried to murder him.”

Valentino waves a hand dismissively. “A lovers’ spat,” he snorts. “Vox would have gotten over it if you hadn’t butted your nose where it didn’t belong.”

“You mean, if I hadn’t found your bleeding ex-lover left for dead in an alley and nursed him back to health?”

Valentino’s eyes burn. “Don’t call him that.”

Alastor blinks. “What? You mean your ex?” Valentino hisses. His grin widens. “But that’s what he is, isn’t he? Your ex. He wants nothing to do with you.”

“He wants nothing to do with me because you fucking brainwashed him!”

Oh, fuck that. “He wants nothing to do with you because you tried to kill him! You also harassed him for over a week!”

Valentino scoffs. “Whatever. Look, Radio Demon how about we make a deal. You like deals, right? That’s your whole thing? Well, how about this: you send Vox back to me and I’ll make a donation to that hotel of yours. A very generous one. You and the princess could use the money to do whatever you want. I don’t give a fuck. All I want is for you to tell Vox that he needs to return to me.” Valentino takes a deep drag. He smiles at Alastor and the smoke slithers from between his clenched teeth.

Alastor stares at him. Slowly, he leans forward. “I would sooner burn down the hotel with everyone -including myself – in it before I ever considered convincing Vox to return to you.”

The two demons on his lap look warily up at the moth pimp who has gone silent.

“You can’t keep him forever,” Valentino hisses. “He belongs with me. He belongs to me.”

         Alastor shakes his head. “And that’s your issue, Valentino. You insist on treating Vox like he’s an accessory or a toy. He’s a person. With feelings.”

         “Oh, like you give a fuck about anyone’s feelings. You’re the goddamned Radio Demon!”

         Alastor almost retorts that he does care about Vox’s feelings, but something makes him hold back. He doesn’t want Valentino of all people to have that information. “Are we done here?”

         Valentino sneers. “You’re making a big mistake,” he tells Alastor. He snorts. “But sure. By the way, how’s Angelcakes? How’s the unemployed life treating him? Heard it’s been real difficult for him to find work.”

         “Oh, he’s fine. He starts his new job tomorrow.”

         The lipless demoness yelps as she’s roughly pushed to the floor of the limo. “Bullshit!” Valentino snarls. “Nobody with two goddamned braincells would dare get on my bad side by hiring that fucking whore! I’m feared in this Ring!”

         Alastor chuckles. “Yes,” he says. “In this Ring. Well, I should really be going. I think I’ve tolerated you enough.” He moves to open the door. “Good day.”

         The door locks.

         “Oh no,” Valentino’s eyes glow. “We’re not done.”

         Alastor lets out a chuff of laughter. “Oh, we’re done.” His eyes glow as well. “I suggest you let me out before I paint the interior of this ugly car with your blood.”

         “I don’t know what spell you have on Vox—”

         “Oh, please. I wouldn’t dare sully myself with that sort of magic. That’s the stuff of desperate, pathetic losers,” Alastor says. He stops and drags his eyes up and down Valentino before giving the moth demon a smirk. Like you, his expression says.

         Valentino bristles. “Get the fuck out my car! Get out! Get out!”

         Alastor laughs to himself as he climbs out of the car. As the limo pulls away, he can hear Valentino still raging inside. Before the vehicle goes too far, the door opens and the bodies of both the women are dumped. Their heads hang on broken necks and their lifeless eyes stare up at nothing. A tentacle belonging to some unseen monstrosity slides out from under a manhole cover, wraps around the legs of the bodies and drags them down into the sewer.

         Alastor shakes his head. “Distasteful,” he mutters to himself. He turns back in the direction of the hotel.

         When Alastor returns to the Hazbin Hotel he’s greeted by Niffty who tells him he has a visitor in his office. After his little encounter with Valentino, the deer demon is immediately on his guard. He goes to his office and sees sitting in front of his desk if none other than Brother Haze.

         Haze looks up and turns at the sound of his approach. “Afternoon, Brother. How you doing this fine day?”

         “Better,” Alastor replies as he takes a seat on the other side of the desk. “What brings you to the hotel? I was under the impression that leaving your den wasn’t something you were allowed to do.”

         “Oh, I can leave but I gotta be back soon.” Brother Haze smiles. “I wanted to make sure you and yours made it home safe. Y’all were pretty gone last time we saw you.” When Alastor tenses and his eyes move to the smoke funneling out Haze’s head, the other demon laughs. “Relax, man. Your tiny maid opened up the windows. Got it nice and ventilated.”

         Alastor looks behind him and sure enough, the windows of his office have been thrown open. He chuckles. “Of course, she did.”

         “She also gave me some reading materials to pass the time while I waited for you to come back.”

         Alastor sighs. “Of course, she did.” He takes off his monocle to tiredly rub his eyes. “Will you be in trouble with King Lucifer for this little trip?”

         “Nah. To be honest, he swung by earlier to ‘show his gratitude.’ Don’t know how, but he got word about the princess paying us a visit. We were terrified but it turns out he just wanted to thank us for letting her go.” Brother Haze frowns. “I guess he thought we were going to keep her? Or encourage her to stay? Beats me, man.” He shrugs. “Anyway, His Majesty dropped by to not only give us our usual scratch but—and dig this, because this shit is wild—he also dropped off what he called a ‘thank you gift’,” Haze leans closer to whisper, “Catfish and crawfish.”

         Alastor’s jaw drops. “No,” he whispers in amazement.

         Brother Haze nods. “Well, to be honest we’ve had it before back when Lucifer had us agree to our stipulations and rules. The crawfish is purple and has way too many eyes. It also tastes more like shrimp than actual crawfish, but it boils up just as nice. The ‘catfish’ is just unsettling as fuck to look at, but once we get it prepared you forget all about it.”

         “I see,” Alastor says. “Well, congratulations.”

         “We’re having a fry up and seafood boil,” Brother Haze tells him. “Wanted to extend an invite to you.”

         The Radio Demon’s mouth waters at the thought. “Just me?”

         Brother Haze’s mouth turns up in a mischievous smile. “You can invite a guest. Maybe that nice TV-headed fella would like to come?” When Alastor gives him a warning growl, Haze laughs. “Oh, don’t be so uptight. I was just making an observation. You can invite whoever you want. Or don’t. No pressure. And don’t worry about this,” he says and points at his head. “We’ll be having the cookout in an open space. You won’t be breathin’ in anything. Unless you’re inclined.” Brother Haze lowers his shades so he can wink at Alastor.

         “Should I bring anything?”

         “Just your appetite,” Haze responds. He stops and thinks about it. “Maybe paper plates and cups. Just in case we run out.” He studies Alastor. “How long’s it been since you’ve been to a fish fry or a boil?”

         Alastor doesn’t even need to think about that. “Decades,” he says almost sadly. “At least allow me to bring a dessert. Why, if I came without bringing something edible, my dear mother would come down here and smack me!”

         “One of our congregants is making a caramel cake, but I suppose if you want to bring something we wouldn’t say no to a banana pudding.” Brother Haze grins. “Especially not Mzimu.”

         “It’s a deal! Oh, I’m looking forward to this! Just give me a time and—” Alastor stops, laughs, and says, “Well, you’ll have to tell me where, I suppose. Your location is probably at random.”

         Brother Haze nods. “Speaking of,” he says and claps his hands. “I need to skedaddle. Be seeing you, Radio Demon.” He gives Alastor a nod before walking out of the office.

         When he’s gone, Alastor closes the windows. There’s a lingering odor, but Alastor finds he doesn’t mind.

         The next morning, Angel Dust is surprised to find himself being seen off by not just his boyfriend but the other Hazbin Hotel residents as well. “This is fucking weird,” he whispers to Husk.

         Charlie walks forward. Her smile wobbles as proud tears fill her eyes. She hands Angel a bag lunch. “Niffty and I made this for you. I wrote you a motivational note on a post-it in case you need it,” she sniffles. “Not that I think you’ll need it! You’re going to do great! I believe in you.”

         Vaggie walks up and gives the spider demon the once over. She straightens his clothes, picks away lint, and smooths down any wrinkles. “Stay safe and go directly to Asmodeus if anyone tries to give you trouble,” she tells him with a firm tone. “Don’t let anyone pressure you to drink or take anything.”

         “Don’t forget to make friends,” Charlie interjects.

         “Don’t go anywhere with anyone who gives you a bad vibe,” Vaggie cuts in.

         Angel Dust stares at them both, wide-eyed. “Whaaat is happening?” Angel blinks when he sees Alastor. “What are you doing here?”

         The Radio Demon laughs. “As if I’d miss this! It’s your big send off!” A brief expression of…something flits over the deer demon’s face, but it’s gone before Angel Dust can decipher it. Alastor clears his throat. “Ladies, please. Angel Dust still needs to get to the elevator. You don’t want to make him late.”

         “Right,” Charlie says with a nod. “Razzle and Dazzle,” she calls over her shoulder. “He’s ready to go.” She turns around and gives Angel Dust a worried look. “You sure you don’t want one of us to come along? I certainly don’t mind.”

         “Oh my fucking god!” the spider demon screams. “You two need to hurry up before I fucking walk to that elevator!”

         “Don’t you dare,” Vaggie says. “This whole thing’s supposed to be a secret. What if someone tails you?”

         Angel Dust folds his arms over his chest and taps a foot impatiently. He softens when Husk places a hand on his cheek. Angel leans down so the cat demon can give him a gentle kiss on the lips. “You’re going to be fine,” he tells the spider demon. “Knock ’em dead, kid.”

         Angel’s face flushes and he gives his lover a nod. “Thanks, Husky,” he whispers. When Razzle and Dazzle finally show, Angel Dust makes a big show of holding his head high as he walks to the limo. He gives them a wave and a smirk as the car pulls away. Once it does, the fear and doubt come roaring back.

         What is he doing? Did he really think he was cut out for this?

         He was going to fuck this up. He was going to fuck this up and everyone would blame him.

         Why shouldn’t they blame him? He was a loser. His dad was right. Valentino was right. Who did he think he was? He was only good for one thing.

         I’m going to fucking fail and I’ll no choice but to go crawling back to Val. That’s what I deserve.

         Angel Dust jumps when his phone buzzes in his pocket. With shaky hands, he reaches for it and looks at the screen. It’s a message from Husk with an attached photo.

         Husk holds Fat Nuggets in his arms. The pig holds a sign in his mouth:

Have a Good First Day!

         The others have gathered around the cat demon, smiling, and giving thumbs up. Alastor also stands in the frame (not that surprising given the Vaggie looks like she has vice-like grip on his arm) and Angel feels the traitorous pricking of tears when he realizes that the Radio Demon has dampened his powers enough so his face isn’t totally obscured or distorted.

         Angel Dust takes a deep breath. He checks his makeup in his compact.

         He can do this.

         Alastor looks up from his paperwork to find his shadow standing before his desk. “Hello,” he greets warily.

         His shadow chitters.

         Alastor quirks a brow. He puts the pen down. “Oh really? I think that if Vox had been here, he would have stopped in to say hello.”

         The doppelganger chitters again. It extends a hand.

         The Radio Demon harrumphs. He gets to his feet and makes his way to his shadowy counterpart. His shadow presses a fingertip between his eyes and shares what it saw.

         Images flash in Alastor’s mind’s eye.

         His living room. His shadow’s point of view has him peering over the edge of a bookcase as Vox’s shadow glides in under the doorframe. His shadow almost greets the other but stops when it sees Vox’s shadow unlock the front door. It watches as Vox hurriedly enters and looks around. Alastor’s shadow ducks down and hides. It peers out again when it hears Vox muttering to himself. It looks up and sees Vox take one of Alastor’s knives and hide it in his coat. The TV Demon opens the door a crack and looks around to be sure that no one is near before exiting the room. Vox’s shadow relocks the door before following its double.

         Alastor blinks. He stares at his shadow. “Curious,” he murmurs. Alastor clasps his arms behind his back. Vox broke into his room and stole one of his knives. “Very curious. Hmm. Can you sense the location of Vox’s shadow?”

         His doppelganger nods.

         Alastor holds out his hands. His shadow takes hold of them.

         Two become one.

         They slide out of the hotel, using the shadows cast by objects to travel. Alastor hasn’t done this in a while. Not since his shadow gained its sentience, but it’s like riding a bike.

         Using the shadow of a parked car, they get close to where Vox is located. Alastor slides up the side of a wall up to the roof of a nearby building and separates from his doppelganger. The two of them peer down at the streets below and spot Vox.

         The Media Overlord trails behind a Sinner Demon fully engrossed with whatever on his phone.

         Both Alastor and his shadow tilt their heads to one side as they watch Vox. They meld back together and glide from rooftop to rooftop to keep on the other Overlord’s trail.

         Along the way, the Sinner finally notices Vox’s presence.

         He stops.

         Vox stops.

         The Sinner Demon turns and looks over his shoulder at the Overlord.

         As if anticipating this, Vox hurriedly pulls out his phone before the other demon has fully looked at him and pretends to look up something. The Sinner Demon seems to debate something before he turns back around and keeps going.

         Vox follows.

         The Sinner Demon seems to realize that something’s not quite right because his pace quickens. He’s no longer looking at his phone. Alastor’s not sure it would help anyway because he sees the telltale bolts of electricity fire from Vox’s fingers as he disables any nearby cameras and electronics that could be used to record him.

         The Sinner comes to an abrupt stop and whips around.

         He and Vox look each other dead in the eye. Alastor’s not sure what he sees, but whatever it is makes the Sinner turn around and bolt. Vox curses and immediately gives chase.

         “Motherfucker!” Vox curses. “Stop!” The Sinner sprints this way and that as he attempts to lose the TV-headed demon. He knocks over a garbage can behind him, but while it does make Vox stumble it doesn’t cause him to fall. “Fucker! You’re only pissing me off more! Why are you so fast?”

         Vox turns into an alley and scans it. There’s no sight of the Sinner. His chest heaves with exertion. His lungs burn.

         Alastor peers down and watches silently. He can see where the Sinner hides behind a pushed-out dumpster, but Vox cannot.

         The TV Demon puts his hands on his knees and bends over to suck in a few breaths. Alastor sees an annoyed look cross Vox’s face before it’s replaced with a sly grin.

         Vox puts a hand to the side of his head while the other reaches into his coat. “Well, I know when I’ve been beaten!” He laughs good-naturedly. “You folks at home give our contestant a round of applause! Let’s hear it for him! Sir? Sir! You can come out now. You got me!”

         The Sinner pokes his head up. Vox grins and waves at him. “I wanted to congratulate you on being our first winner on the premiere episode of Predator versus Prey! You should feel amazing!”

         “Wait? This was just one of your game shows?”

“Mm-hmm! Felt real, didn’t it? You, Sir are on the very first episode of Predator versus Prey ! Sinner versus Sinner in a game of chase. You outlasted the Predator – that’s me – so, you win!”

The Sinner’s face goes bright with excitement. He comes fully from around the dumpster. He straightens his clothes and pats down his hair, smiling brightly for cameras he can’t see. “Oh man,” the Sinner laughs. “You fucking got me good. I knew something had to be up!”

         Vox wags a finger. “You were just too fast for me, sir. Wow!” He turns and mugs for an imaginary camera. “Guess I should start doing some extra cardio, eh folks? But in all seriousness, you were amazing.” He claps a hand on the other demon’s shoulder. “Ready for your prize?”

         “Holy fuck, yes,” the demon gushes. His eyes turn greedy. “So, what did I win?”

         “This!”

         The Sinner gasps and looks down at the blade embedded in his middle. Vox’s eyes glint as he drives Alastor’s stolen knife deeper and twists it. “That’s for making me run in these fucking shoes,” he snarls. He pulls the knife out and drives it back in again and again. He holds the demon in place and pulls the knife out and uses it to slice the Sinner’s neck. Unfortunately, he must nick an artery because blood sprays out and hits him directly in the face. “Motherfu—” Vox splutters. “Goddammit!” he lets the Sinner fall as he uses his hands to wipe at his face. “Uuugh!” He kicks at the fully dead demon.

         Alastor and the shadow meld a final time and slide down the wall. They stare at Vox’s back as the Overlord lets out one more annoyed huff before rolling the nameless Sinner onto his back. Vox crouches over the demon and uses the knife to slice open his t-shirt. “Note to self,” Vox mutters as he works. “Work out details for Predator versus Prey game show…” He drives the knife into Sinner’s chest.

         Alastor watches. Vox’s technique is sloppy, amateurish. The knife slips more than once, and Vox sets it aside so he can force open the demon’s ribs.

         The Radio Demon watches as Vox picks up the knife once more and sloppily cuts out the demon’s heart. There’s another weak spray of blood. Vox stares at the organ in his hands, turning it over. Alastor can’t see his face, but he sees the Media Overlord’s shoulders straighten with determination.

         Vox raises the heart to his mouth and takes a bite.

         At least that’s what Alastor assumes as Vox currently faces away from him, but it’s a safe bet as one moment the heart is whole and the next there’s a chunk missing out it and the sound of the TV Demon chewing noisily fills the alley.

         Alastor can’t see Vox’s face, but he imagines that the expression is similar to the one he wore when he tasted his first piece of sushi. A look of quiet consideration, as he tried to decide whether he wanted to risk another bite.

         Vox finishes the heart.

         Alastor’s eyes are on Vox as he peels free from the wall and un-fuses with his doppelganger. The sight of the Media Overlord cutting another bloody piece away from the Sinner makes Alastor’s feet move on their own. The sound of his taps against the concrete alerts Vox to his presence and the Media Overlord stumbles to his feet.

There’s blood all over Vox’s face and down the front of his suit both from where the unlucky Sinner’s blood sprayed him and his meal. “Alastor!” Vox stammers. He takes a step backward and almost trips over the corpse. He looks at the knife in his hand. “I was going to return this.” Vox winces. “After cleaning it, I mean. Obviously, I-I wasn’t going to just put it back covered in someone’s blood.” He stops.

Alastor stands before him, his arms clasped behind his back. There’s a close-lipped smile on the deer demon’s face as he gives the TV Demon an inquiring look.

Vox begins to tremble. “I just wanted to see what it was like,” he blinks. Shakes his head and says, “You’ve been trying all these new things for me and I— fuck ! Alastor, I really like you. Like so much. You’re an awesome friend but goddammit I want to be more than that and I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I’m fucking in love with you, and I’ve wanted to tell you for a while but then I realized I couldn’t because I was being selfish! I was making you do all these things that you’ve never done before and meanwhile I wasn’t doing the same. You were sharing my experiences, but I wasn’t sharing yours!” He points the knife at the Sinner. “So, I got the bright idea to see what it was like, but of course the first time I try to kill someone to eat them he turns out to be a fucking track star or some shit because holy fuck! And look at me. I made a fucking mess of this, and I just really wanted to get this right because you mean—”

Alastor surges forward and grabs Vox by this coat and pulls him forward. He presses his lips against Vox’s. He means for it to be chaste, but Vox opens his mouth and Alastor’s tongue slips out and tastes the blood and remnants of flesh. The next thing he knows, Alastor has a firm grip on the back of Vox’s head as his tongue delves into the other’s mouth, chasing that taste. He growls hungrily and pushes Vox back, back until the Media Overlord is pressed against the nearest wall.

Vox hunted for him.

Vox devoured flesh for him.

Vox loves him.

The very idea makes some primal feeling pump through Alastor’s veins. He peppers kisses along Vox’s neck.

Vox was his. Not Valentino’s. Never Valentino’s. Never!

He starts to pull away, but Vox murmurs something and gives a slight shake of his head before hauling Alastor back in for another kiss.

They eventually separate but continue to hold each other. “I love you as well,” Alastor whispers softly to Vox. He nuzzles the TV Demon’s neck. The two Overlords bask in the warmth of this confession before the realization that they’re currently standing in an alley with a butchered corpse hits them. Alastor pulls away from Vox and goes over to the slain demon. He kneels and grabs one of his legs with one hand and holds out the other for Vox to take. Vox tucks the bloodied knife into his coat before doing so.

“Don’t fight against it,” Alastor tells him. “Pretend that you’re falling back into a body of water. Loose limbs.”

He opens the void beneath them. Vox sucks in a breath, but he remembers Alastor’s words and relaxes.

The void drops them in the middle of a garden behind Rosie’s Emporium where Rosie and her lady friends were in the middle of game of croquet. The group turn and stare at the new arrivals.

Or more aptly, at Vox.

Rosie and the other women are silent as they stare intently at Vox. The black ichor-like pools of Rosie’s eyes focus on the TV-headed demon and deer demon with an unnatural intensity. Alastor supposes he can’t blame them. Whenever he used to speak of the Media Overlord it was always in complaint. They’re probably wondering if the deer demon finally had enough and had brought his rival to the Cannibal Colonies to be devoured.

Alastor tosses the corpse in front of them. The other women, apart from Rosie, look down at the body. Alastor gives Vox’s hand a squeeze as he proudly proclaims, “His first hunt!”

And just like that the tension is severed.

The women crowd around Vox and pull him away from Alastor. They coo and congratulate him. They click their tongues at the state of his clothes and begin to lead him inside, all the while offering him advice for the next time. Location is important, they tell him.

Rosie moves to stand next to her friend as they both watch as the group of women fawn over a bewildered Vox. “Did he partake in the flesh,” she asks Alastor.

“He did.” He can’t keep the pride out of his voice. “Although I don’t think he cared for it much. Still, he consumed the entire heart!”

Rosie hums with consideration. “Did you partake in his first hunt?”

Alastor shakes his head. “Of course not! The first hunt is special! The meat should be enjoyed by the hunter and the hunter alone. Why would you even ask me that? You know how adamant I am about that sort of thing.”

Rosie doesn’t reply. Instead, she daintily pulls a handkerchief from the wrist of her dress’s sleeve and uses it to gently clean the deer demon’s face.

Alastor freezes. “I can explain,” he starts.

“No need,” Rosie tells him. She gives him a knowing look. “The blood runs hot during a hunt. The adrenaline gets pumping, and the senses are heightened.” She takes Alastor’s hand in hers and gives it a pat. “Are you happy?”

Alastor beams. “I am. He loves me. He hunted because he wanted to try something I like.” A cold chill suddenly runs down his spine. “Rosie, what if I bungle this? He’s already gotten out of one terrible relationship. I don’t want to be the next Valentino.”

Rosie turns her head enough to meet his eyes. Though they are few and far in between, Rosie doesn’t hesitate to frown when she’s unhappy or displeased. She directs one of those rare frowns at her dearest friend. “Alastor,” she admonishes. “Isn’t it a little early to be thinking of the end? Your relationship just started. Give it some time.” She gives his hand another pat. “Talk to him, you delightful fool. He’s probably just as frightened as you.”

Vox returns wearing a bathrobe, still surrounded by the women. Two of them lead him to a chair in front of a table of sweets while two others drag the body toward the kitchens to be properly butchered. Vox gives them all a tentative smile as they ply him with perfectly frosted cakes and treats and regale him with tales of their first hunts. Vox looks over at Rosie and Alastor. His eyes meet Alastor’s and the two of them grin.

Rosie hums again and gives the Radio Demon a little push in Vox’s direction before going over to take a seat at the head of the table. When Alastor walks over the demoness sitting closest to Vox hops up and happily vacates her seat. Alastor shoots Rosie a look. Though she denies it, Alastor has always suspected that she has some form of telepathy. Rosie gives him a hooded look over the rim of her teacup. Alastor takes a seat next to Vox as another demoness puts a porcelain cup of freshly brewed coffee in front of him.

Vox reaches under the table and takes Alastor’s hand in his.

Alastor runs a thumb over Vox’s knuckles. He likes the feeling of this, and he makes a solemn oath right then and there not to mess this up.

Chapter Text

After leaving the Cannibal Colony, the two Overlords go back to Vox’s tower.

         Alastor sits on the couch, petting Vark’s head as Vox searches for a film to watch. “What about the Jazz Singer?” Vox points at the screen.

         Alastor makes a face. He remembers seeing the film when it was in theaters. “It’s…well, let’s just say it’s a product of its time. However, enough time has passed that I can safely say that my rose-tinted glasses have been thoroughly removed.”

         “What does that mean?”

         “It means when you get free time, you should find a summary of the film and read it, but until that time I have zero interest in seeing that movie again.”

         Vox shrugs. “Okay? Well, what about Robin Hood? With Douglas Fairbanks?”

         Alastor thinks about it. “Acceptable.”

         “Okay but remember our deal. One from your time and one from mine,” Vox grins.

         Alastor sighs. He had agreed to that. “I just don’t see what the appeal of talkies,” he mutters.

         “Uh-huh,” the Media Demon snickers. “Well, you’ll change your mind.” He pauses, turns to look at Alastor. “Wait, so you’ve never seen a movie with sound?”

         “I saw the Jazz Singer,” Alastor reminds him.

         “Well, yeah but was that the only one?”

         Alastor sighs. “I also saw Lights of New York. Well, half of it. I had to leave unexpectedly.” Alastor had been spotted (and recognized) by the brother of a man he’d killed earlier that week. The man had chased him out of the theater and through the street. And although the chase had begun with Alastor at the man’s mercy, a quick bit of shadow magic and the man found himself following him down a twisting maze of alleyways and ultimately to his death. Alastor had to go underground after such a public scene and by the time he felt it was safe to be seen again, Lights of New York was no longer being played.

         “Hmm, well in that case we can watch that instead if you’d like,” Vox offers. “Only seems right since you never finished it.” Vox selects the film and pushes Vark off the couch so he can sit next to Alastor. He puts his arm around the deer demon and gets comfortable. The two demons laugh as Vark decides he will not be ignored and climbs back onto the couch and drapes his large body over both their laps. The demon shark nudges his head against Alastor’s hand in a silent plea to resume his previous petting.

         “Vark, I swear,” Vox murmurs and gives the shark’s rump a pat. “You’re such an attention whore. I can put him in his room if he’s bothering you.”

         Alastor chuckles. “Vark is fine. Aren’t you, boy? You just want to watch a movie with us.”

         Vark wags his tail and Vox yelps when it slaps him in the face. “Vark!”

         Alastor laughs. “My goodness! Vark, you need to register that thing as a deadly weapon!”

         “Hardy-har-har,” Vox mutters. He rubs his screen. “Vark? Vark, where’s your toy?”

         The shark perks up and turns to look at the Media Overlord.

         “Where’s your toy, Vark? Go find your toy. Go on! Go get it!”

         The demon shark immediately hops down, runs behind the couch, and picks up mangled stuffed toy that looks like a mix between a platypus and a dolphin. Whatever it is, it appears to have had its throat ripped out and resewn many, many times. As soon as Vark gives it a shake, he plops down and begins chewing it without another thought.

         Vox chuckles and leans back on the couch. “Works every time,” he grins. “Now, where were we?”

         They’re halfway through the scene where Sam and Collins are convincing Hawk to pin the murder of the officer on Eddie, the film’s protagonist when Vox suddenly bolts up. His screen flashes for a moment. “Something wrong,” Alastor asks.

         “No,” Vox sighs. “Not really. We’re just about to have…company.”

         A monitor slides out from the ceiling and shows a disgruntled bat demoness repeatedly punching the intercom button. “Vox! Vox, I swear to God!”

         Vox groans and pauses the film. Alastor chuckles. “My,” he comments. “That sounds like Ms. Inquewell. Whatever could she want?”

         “Okay, full confession. I…maybe skipped out on work to hang with you today?”

         Alastor’s cheeks pinken. “Ah! I see.” Is it strange that this revelation pleases him? “Well, she both looks and sounds displeased by your bout of hooky.”

         “Seems so.” Vox presses a button. A scowling face peers back at him over the monitor’s screen. He sighs. “Hey, Vesta.”

         “Don’t ‘hey, Vesta’ me, you complete asshole! You said you were dipping out to go to the bathroom and the next thing I know I can’t fucking find you anywhere! You got any idea how many meetings you blew off? Vox, you’re killing me!”

         “Something came up.”

         “Something came up? What does that even mean? What are you—oh, God. Please tell me you didn’t get back with Valentino!”

         “What? No! Of course, not!”

         “Thank fuck. Then what are you hiding?” She suddenly notices the demon sitting beside Vox.

         Alastor waves. “Good day to you, Ms. Inquewell!”

         Vesta’s jaw drops. “Oh, Mister Alastor! It’s so good to see you! Forgive my intrusion, I’m just a little surprised that you’re here…at Vox’s house…” She slowly turns her gaze to Vox. “Omigod, Vox.”

         Alastor sees the telltale blush spread over Vox’s screen. “Jesus, Vesta. Don’t make a big deal outta of this.”

         “Omigod, Vox!” She starts jumping up and down. “I’m so happy for you! I – oh, shit. I owe Briar so much money.”

         “What the fuck, Vesta! Were you two betting on me getting with Alastor?”

         “No! No! Nothing like that. We were just betting on whether you’d ever have the guts to tell him how you feel.”

         Vox crosses his arms. “And you betted against me?”

         Vesta looks at her wristwatch. “Well, would you look at the time! I guess I should be going. Places to go. People to see. You understand! It was so nice seeing you again, Mr. Alastor! Buh-byee!”

         Vox shuts off the monitor and it returns to its hidden hatch in the ceiling. He grumbles under his breath and the deer demon puts a sympathetic arm around his shoulders. The physical contact seems to placate the other demon. They finish Lights of New York and as per their deal, Vox chooses the next movie from around his lifetime. “I think you’re going to like it,” Vox tells him. “I figured you’d take talkies better if they were musicals. This one is called The Wizard of Oz.”

         Alastor loves it.

         The singing!

The switch to color!

The surprising amount of murder!

Why, it makes the Radio Demon’s heart flutter with excitement!

Alastor makes Vox play it twice and would have gone for a third time if the TV Demon hadn’t mentioned he had other musicals available for them to watch. “I don’t mean to pigeonhole you,” he tells Alastor. “I just assumed with you being the Radio Demon, that the easiest way to please you would be something with a tune.”

“Oh, no. Pigeonhole away,” Alastor replies.

After Wizard of Oz, Vox asks him what he’d like to watch next. Though the original deal (one he proposed in the first place) was to switch back and forth, Alastor’s itching to see what other musicals Vox has set aside. The TV Demon smiles. “Well,” he says, coyly. “I suppose I can introduce you to Ginger and Fred.”

“Who?”

Vox doesn’t answer but his grin is worth a thousand words. He puts on a black and white movie called Top Hat . “Alastor, allow me to introduce you to Ms. Ginger Rogers and Mr. Fred Astaire.”

As they watch (or more accurately Alastor watches as Vox eventually nods off), Alastor’s cane manifests at his side. The Radio Demon sits, eyes completely focused on the screen. His cane’s eye opens and begins to glow. It soaks in the music, the songs, and even the dance numbers. All of what it witnesses gets absorbed into the ever-growing catalog of music. The cane absorbs it all and as a result, so does Alastor. Memory is a tricky thing, after all. One can easily forget a word or two, mishear, or misinterpret. Alastor has no such issues. When Top Hat ends, Alastor replays Wizard of Oz so his cane can absorb the music from that as well. Alastor picks up his cane and looks deeply into the eye. He gives it a tap with his finger. There’s the brief sound of a tuning radio before the musical score of “Cheek to Cheek” begins filtering out. Alastor gives a satisfied nod and looks down at Vox. He scoops the Overlord into his arms and begins carrying him to the bedroom. He hums along to the tune. After putting Vox to bed, Alastor turns to leave, but stops. He looks down at the TV Demon’s sleeping form. The TV-headed demon rolls over onto his back and snores softly.

Why was he so nervous? This wasn’t the first time he’s shared a bed with Vox! Far from it, in fact.

Alastor takes off his coat, his tie, his shoes, and socks. He places them off to the side and slides into bed next to Vox.

This is fine , he thinks to himself even as his heart thunders in his chest. This was just like any of the other times where he and Vox slept together. The only difference was that this time they’d be sharing a bed after realizing and vocalizing their mutual affection for one another.

But why should that matter?

It didn’t. We’re fine. I’m fine.

And to prove just how fine he was with this; Alastor moves closer to Vox and puts his arms around him. The Media Overlord lets out a soft sigh of contentment and automatically moves an arm to allow Alastor more space. Alastor moves to press a kiss against Vox’s throat before settling down to drift off to sleep.

Or that was the plan…

Vark decides that since Vox forgot to put him in his room, this must mean it’s okay to pay a midnight visit. He also gets it in his fishy head that despite all evidence of the contrary, the two Overlords want him in the bed as well. And he also decides that despite there being more room at the foot of the bed, the best place for him to sleep is on top of both Vox and Alastor.

Both Vox and Alastor are ripped from an otherwise pleasant slumber by the air being pressed out of their lungs as a large body drops onto them.

“Vark,” Vox croaks. “No! Gedoff!”

Vark does not. Instead, he rolls over and presents his tummy for pets. Alastor’s not sure how the shark thinks that’s going to work as their arms are currently pinned beneath him.

“Vark,” Alastor wheezes. "Under normal circumstances, you are quite adorable, but I am tired and wish to sleep so...”

Vark lets out a yip of surprise as he finds himself hoisted into the air by a crowd of shadow dolls and carried out of the room. The dolls march him to his room (one of them pauses to grab his favorite toy) and gently place him inside before shutting the door. Vark snuffles at the closed door before climbing the stairs to his tank and diving in.

Back in the bedroom, Alastor and Vox reposition themselves. “Sorry,” the TV-headed demon whispers as he tucks himself closer to Alastor. “I usually remember to put him back in his room.”

“It’s fine,” the Radio Demon assures him. Already his eyelids are starting to droop. “We’ll be able to give him the proper love and affection in the morning after a good night’s rest.”

“Fucking agreed.”

The next morning, the two Overlords are awoken by someone buzzing in at Vox’s front door. Vox grumbles before picking up his phone and patching into the intercom and camera. “Yeah?”

It’s a Sinner Demon with bunny ears and a chipper smile. “Good morning! I’m Sunny Slyde with Over Easy Breakfast and Catering! I’m here to make a delivery!”

Vox wipes the sleep from his eyes. “Your name is Sunny Side, and you work for a breakfast place?”

Sunny giggles and Vox wonders if Charlie has a long-lost rabbit-eared sister. “No sir! It’s Sunny Slyde. S-L-Y-D-E. But it’s okay. A lot of people make that mistake. Anyhoo! I’m here with your order.”

“I didn’t order anything. I just woke up.”

“Oh yes sir. You had an order placed by a uhhh,” Sunny takes a moment to pull a smartphone out of her apron pocket and read it. “Vesta Inquewell. She said she couldn’t trust you to feed yourself so why would she trust you to feed your guest? Then she paid me extra to tell you that.”

Vox gives the delivery person a sour look. “Yep, that sounds like her.” He sighs. “Okay. I’ll buzz you in. 6th floor.” Vox begrudgingly leaves the bed. Alastor rolls over and pulls the blankets around himself, seemingly uneager to rejoin the waking world. Vox smiles despite everything. He pops into Vark’s room and pours the shark some food before walking to the elevator.

A four foot nothing rabbit eared Sinner demoness dresses in a bright yellow shirt, shorts, and apron walks in holding a thermal bag in one hand and carrier with two large coffees in the other. Vox lets out an appreciative moan. “Oh, fuck yeah! Coffee me.” He starts to take the coffee as Sunny walks over to his kitchen counter and begins setting out containers filled with who knows what. When she’s finished, she walks back and stands in front of Vox.

She pulls out a little pitch pipe and blows on it. “Oooohhhh! When you’re feeling kinda hungry and your tummy needs appeasin’ call Over Easy! When you’re on your way to work and you feel that hanger teasin’ call Over Easy!”

Vox gapes at her. “What the flaming fuck are you doing?” he demands.

Sunny stops mid-song. “I’m singing the Over Easy Breakfast and Catering jingle!”

“Okay but why?”

“I was paid generously to do so!”

“Oh bullshit! Did Vesta actually pay you to do this?”

“No sir,” Sunny says with a smile.

Vox nods. “That’s what I thought. Now—”

“It was the horse-headed fellow! Briar, I think. He said, ‘He knows what he did.’ Now where was I?” She takes out the pitch pipe again and gives it another blow. “Ohhh! When it’s seven in the morning and you’re wanting something cheesy call Over Easy! We promise fresh and never frozen! You can pick the bread for toastin’ at Oooover Easy!”

Alastor’s shadow appears, grabs the young woman by the back of her shirt and belt and tosses her back into the elevator. “Thanks,” Vox tells him when he floats back. The doppelganger nuzzles him before floating over to the sink. Vox watches in silent curiosity as he fills a glass with water. “What are you doing?” He asks the shadow.

The shadow doesn’t reply. Instead, he floats into Vox’s bedroom.

There’s a splash and he can hear Alastor scream out, “You son of a bitch!”

Ah. Question answered.

The deer demon walks out of Vox’s room, hair dripping with water. “I’m going to lock it in a box,” he mutters. “Tie that box to the largest stone I can find and then toss them both into the sea!” The Radio Demon stares when he catches sight of Vox enjoying his coffee. “Ah and a good morning to you, Vox! My, that’s quite the spread! I had no idea you were such an early bird!”

“I’m not. I got woken up by the delivery of this bountiful meal.” He pauses. “Actually, I think I prefer my wake up to yours.”

Alastor laughs but Vox can hear the edge in it. “Yes, well. I’m afraid your sheets might need a bit of drying after my shadow’s latest stunt.”

“What did you do to him?”

“I only sent it to the ether. Of course, since it can just reappear without my needing to summon it, I already know its banishment is only temporary.” Alastor sighs. “It will be back and thoroughly prepared to cause me more problems.”

Vox grins. “Well, let’s have some breakfast before that happens.”

“Splendid idea! You are as smart as you are charming!”

Vox blushes. He chuckles and offers the deer demon the remaining coffee. “You know, I remember a time where I could have construed that as an insult.”

Alastor goes over to him and takes the offered beverage. “Yes, well. I think it’s safe to say we are beyond that point in our relationship.”

They both stand there as the word “relationship” echoes in their brains.

Oh, fuck. They still needed to talk about that.

Double fuck.

“Breakfast?” Vox blurts.

“Breakfast!” Alastor agrees. They both go to sit at the counter. They stuff their mouths with food in a blatant attempt to stave off the conversation that needs to be had. Kissing and the admitting of feelings was one thing, but now they need to lay the groundwork and neither knows how to do so.

Vox’s past relationships started off hot and heavy. He and Valentino had hit it off, immediately gotten physical, and then spent the rest of the time working around Vox’s schedule or Valentino’s needs or moods.

Alastor’s relationships had been back from when he was alive and those were only to find potential victims. Vox would be his first romantic entanglement that didn’t end with him luring his partner to their doom like a lethal Casanova.

Eventually Vox tires of them just eating in silence. He puts his fork down. “Okay, we can’t do this.”

Alastor’s fork freezes an inch from his mouth. “What?” he whispers clearly distraught.

Vox’s face glitches. “No! That’s not what I meant! I meant we can’t do this,” he gestures between them. “Sitting here. Not talking about what obviously needs to be talked about.” Vox picks up his fork and stabs at his eggs. “We kissed, Alastor. We kissed and we said we loved each other. We need to talk about where to go from there.”

Alastor sighs and puts his fork aside. He nods. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. I…just don’t know where to start.” He looks at the other Overlord. “Do you?”

Vox drums his hand against the countertop as he thinks. “Well, okay. How about this? What if we write some stuff down? Ooh! A list! Let’s make a list. Expectations of what we want out of this relationship. Boundaries, we don’t want to cross?”

Alastor shrugs. It wasn’t the worst idea.

Vox goes to grab some pens and paper. He and Alastor begin writing down things.

“First on my list under Boundaries,” Vox says as he writes. “You’re not allowed to hit me when you’re angry.”

Alastor bites the inside of his cheek. The fact that Vox feels like he even needs to include that on his list and that he sounds worried as he says it (did he think Alastor would reject that? Force him to remove it off the list?) makes the Radio Demon hate Valentino even more. “I agree. Here’s an expectation for me: communication. I’m new to this and I’m not expecting to get everything right. I feel like some things are common sense, but I know there will be other things I won’t get. Moreover, when we fight – because I’m not naïve enough to believe we never will – I want us to talk about it. No sullen silences. No stewing or letting it eat away at you. Talk to me and I will talk to you.”

Vox nods. “PDA,” Vox says. He blushes. “I like PDA. We can work out the level you’re comfortable with, and I definitely don’t mean stuff like straight up grinding in public or whatever. I – I just want to hold your hand sometimes. Maybe the occasional kiss here and there. Hugging. Like I said, we can discuss levels of comfort.” He looks sad for a moment. “Val never liked PDA unless it was for photo-ops or he was staking his territory.”

Alastor doesn’t have a problem with that. Of course, that does bring up something he’s been dreading to bring up. “Under my boundaries,” Alastor starts to say. He sighs. “Sex. Vox, I don’t…” he rubs the back of his neck. “Vox, I don’t—I’ve never—” The deer demon wishes he could just say it. “Vox, I don’t have sex. I don’t have a desire to have sex, is what I mean. I’ve never had such a desire.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. To be honest, it’s never been an issue when I was alive. My previous marks – er, paramours were happy with heavy petting. I assume you and Valentino…?”

“Yeah,” Vox nods. “We did.”

Alastor nods as well. “I’m not surprised.” He taps a finger against his thigh. He doesn’t want to look at Vox’s face right now. He’s afraid that the TV Demon might look disappointed.

“Alastor, look at me.”

He does so and is surprised to see Vox smiling at him. The Media Overlord reaches over and takes Alastor’s hand. “Look, we’re writing all this down so we can work through this. You’re expressing concerns and expectations that you’ve got and so am I.”

Alastor nods. He suddenly brightens. “Actually,” the deer demon says, excited. “I have an idea! You don’t have to forgo your sexual gratification! I can help!” He snaps his fingers.

Vox stares at him. “What do you mean?” he starts to say but finds himself distracted by two tentacles wrapping around his shoulders and pulling his backwards off his chair. “Alastor, what the fuck?!”

“I spoke with Niffty,” Alastor explains. He waves as Vox is dragged screaming into the portal he opened just behind him. “Have fun!” When the portal closes, Alastor gives a self-satisfied nod. “I’m going to be an excellent boyfriend!”

Alastor packs away the rest of their breakfast and goes to let Vark out of his room. The shark greets him with an empty food bowl and a sorrowful expression. Alastor tilts his head and scrutinizes Vark. “Now, is that bowl empty because you haven’t been fed or because you have been fed?”

Vark drops the bowl at Alastor’s feet and sits back on his haunches to beg.

Alastor finds his food and fills his bowl. While Vox is away, he brews a pot of coffee, cleans the rest of the kitchen, and finishes his list. He takes a shower and gets dressed. After all that is out of the way, he snaps his fingers.

A tentacle gently deposits a shivering, panting, and very naked Vox on the floor of the living room. Alastor narrows his eyes. “Hey! Pants,” he shouts at the portal.

 A pair of pajama bottoms gets tossed and Alastor catches them midair. “Thank you,” he says before the portal closes. Alastor hums as he goes to get Vox a glass of water. He comes back, glass in hand, and kneels next to him. Vox takes the glass with shaking hands and drinks deeply. “Well?”

Vox looks annoyed for just a moment before sighing, “I enjoyed that way more than I should have.”

“They didn’t hurt you, did they? It’s sometimes hard to send them orders through our bond on such short notice.”

“No, Alastor. Your tentacles were surprisingly gentle and, um, thorough.” Vox blushes mightily as he adds, “Also surprisingly knowledgeable…” He looks over at Vark who walks over, bowl in mouth. “Vark, no! I’ve already fed you.”

Alastor shoots the demon shark with a betrayed look.

Vox puts on his pajama bottoms and sighs. “Okay, so I guess we can cross that off the list.”

“Indeed,” Alastor agrees. “Do you want to see the rest of my list?”

“Let me finish mine and then we can exchange.” Vox pauses, looks embarrassed. “Um actually, I’m going to grab a quick shower first. I’m sticky.”

         Alastor thinks about returning to the hotel but decides against it.

He spends another night at Vox’s. Vox nudges him awake and points to where Alastor’s shadow stands watching them from the corner. “What’s his deal?”

Alastor growls at his doppelganger. His shadow only smiles wider and floats a little closer. It purrs at Vox, reaching out a hand to touch the TV Demon’s face.

“No,” Alastor snaps.

His shadow narrows his eyes and hisses. It cocks its head as it hears something that they can’t. It lets out an excited trill.

Vox's shadow floats in and trills back.

“Oh shit,” Vox sits up. “I didn’t even realize you were gone! Where’ve you been, buddy?”

Vox’s shadow starts to answer but stops. It tilts its head as it looks between Vox and Alastor. The Overlord laughs. “Yeah, there’s been a development.”

Vox’s doppelganger lets out a jubilant cry and glides over to Vox. It wraps its arms around the Overlord and hugs him. Alastor watches his shadow out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t like the calculating way it’s watching Vox and his shadow. “Well,” Alastor says, loudly. “It’s very late. So, you both should go do something somewhere else so we can sleep.” Alastor’s shadow’s eyes narrow at the deer demon. He narrows his eyes right back. “Well? You heard me. Be on your away.”

His doppelganger drifts forward and holds out its hand for Vox’s shadow to take. The TV-headed shadow clicks and chitters, taking the offered hand. Together the two shadows leave the room and probably the building.

Alastor sighs and settles back into bed. Vox nestles closer to him, wrapping his arms around the deer demon. “That was weird,” he murmurs. “What was that about?”

“Hmm?” Alastor’s already starting to drift off. “Oh nothing. My shadow just seems intent on making you and your shadow its harem.”

“Oh,” Vox says. He lets out a little sigh and Alastor feels him press closer.

Alastor is almost asleep when he feels Vox bolt up and fumble for the lamp on the bedside table. “I’m sorry,” Vox sputters. “He wants to do what?”

Alastor hums as he walks through the front door. He and Vox spent most of the morning together. Vox and Alastor discovered that the deer demon wasn’t averse to films, musicals, and plays after his time if they weren’t so obvious about it. For example, Alastor rather enjoyed listening to a soundtrack from a musical set in the 1980s in Saint Tropez, France but he detested Grease. Alastor especially found that he loved period musicals set in or around the time he was alive. There were plenty of those to choose from (a fact that he tried not to be smug about).

Alas, all good things must (temporarily) come to an end.

While Vesta and Briar were happy about Vox’s new relationship, they were only willing to let him miss work for so long, a fact illustrated by Vesta flying up and throwing a bulked-up Briar through Vox’s window so they could carry him to a meeting he was supposed to be at within the hour. Before he’s carried away, Vox managed to yell for Alastor to put Vark in his room so he “doesn’t fall out that big fucking hole.”

Alastor looks up when he sees the sound of running footsteps. “Ah! Good day to you both. How are—”

“Where the fuck have you been?” Vaggie screams.

Alastor blinks. Not the reaction he’d been expecting. “Hello to you too, Vagatha.”

“Fuck you! You were gone for two days with no fucking explanation! Where the fuck have you been?!”

Charlie puts a hand on the moth demon’s shoulder. “I think what Vaggie means is that you kinda just left and we had no idea how to reach you and where you went. We were worried.”

Alastor levels a look at the princess. “While I appreciate your concern, need I remind you that I’m an adult and an Overlord? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

Charlie holds up her hands in a placating manner. “We know! We know! It’s just – you disappeared, and we had no idea why or where you went.”

“And not knowing where you went or what you’re doing is always a problem,” Vaggie growls.

Alastor’s eyes gleam. He directs a contemptuous smile at Vaggie. “My goodness! It’s almost like you don’t trust me.”

Vaggie’s face turns an interesting shade of reddish-purple as she tries to suppress the scream of rage bubbling up in her throat. Charlie puts a hand on her shoulder.

Alastor chuckles. “I can assure you both that I wasn’t doing anything of note. I was simply—” he stops.

Should he divulge his whereabouts? That he and Vox were in a relationship?

He glances at Charlie. He has no idea of Niffty’s current locations, but she was probably somewhere…

…listening.

“I was out,” he says. “Nothing to worry about. I wasn’t doing anything that you should worry about.”

“See, Vaggie?” Charlie grins. She gives her girlfriend a playful punch on the arm. “I told you it wasn’t a big deal!”

The moth demoness glares at Alastor who gives her a smug smile. Even if he had been doing something untoward, she had no proof. Now he wishes he had been doing something awful just so he could bask in her inability to prove it.

“Well, as fun as it’s been watching Vaggie turn such interesting colors, I should really go upstairs.” Alastor laughs to himself as he walks by Vaggie who must be physically restrained by Charlie lest she launch herself at the deer demon.

Alastor spots Husk coming down the stairs as he’s going up. “Hello, Husker!”

The winged cat demon stops. He narrows his eyes at Alastor. “You smell like Vox.”

Alastor comes to a dead stop. He stares at his thrall.

Husk stares back. “You aren’t going to deny it?”

“You aren’t to breathe a word of this to anyone,” the Radio Demon hisses. He clears his throat. “My private life is my private life. No one’s business but my own. I would appreciate some…discretion.”

“You mean don’t tell Niffty.”

“Especially don’t tell Niffty!”

Husk shrugs. “Fine. I won’t say a word.”

Alastor looks at the winged cat demon. He wasn’t expecting that. “I…thank you, Husker.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t thank me yet. This is Niffty we’re talking about. She’ll sniff it out eventually.” Before he turns to leave, Husk turns back and gives the Radio Demon a smirk. “Just FYI,” he chuckles, “You could’ve just played it off that you and Vox were doing your usual bunking together. Anyway congratulations.” He walks off and leaves Alastor seething.

Alastor decides to put it out of his mind. He’s got a show to plan for. He couldn’t have one the previous week because they’d been making a battle strategy for the party, but they were free now.

Ooh! Maybe he could break out the secret phone and send Vox a textual message. He did promise the other Overlord that he could be a guest star.

Alastor goes to the safe and retrieves the phone. He turns it on and stares at it. Well, he’s snooped through enough phones to know how to get to messages.

Alastor narrows his eyes and stares at the keys.

Vox did say it was like a typewriter.

Hmm. Okay. I can do this.

He stares at the phone.

These keys are far too small for a proper typewriter…

Alastor sits on his couch and begins to push at each button with his finger. Sweat beads on his brow as he constructs his message. Goodness, this was harder than he thought.

Voxhello.Iamtryingoutmynewphoneanddecidedtosendyouamessage.Howareyou?Iamwell.IwasplanningtohaveashowthisweekandIwantedtoknowifyouwerestillinterestedinbeingapartoftheepisode.

And send. Alastor holds the phone in his hands and waits expectantly. The phone vibrates with a notification.

You’re so fucking adorable.

Alastor’s face flushes. While he appreciates the sentiment, the Media Overlord really hasn’t answered his question.

Thankyou,butIwouldstilllikeananswerplease.DOYOUSTILLWANTTOBEONTHESHOW?

Send.

Um, you accidentally turned to CAPSLOCK toward the end. But yes, I do want to be on your show. After I’m done here I'll swing by the hotel. Bapper and Co. are at my place fixing the fucking window so I’ll need to bring Vark so he doesn’t spend the entire time scratching at his door. See you later. I love you.

Alastor’s heart swells.

IWILLSEEYOUWHENYOUARRIVE.ILOVEYOUTOO.

Well, that was done. Now what?

Alastor goes down to his office and does some work. Good thing too since Vaggie has some forms piled on his desk marked with urgent. New budget proposals thanks to the new sponsorship, estimates for the construction of the pool, and oh. Oh goodness.

Applicants!

Alastor pushes everything else to the side and looks at these specific forms. There’s a post-it note on the pile of forms in Charlie’s handwriting: Interviews when?

Well, this could prove to be entertaining.

Alastor stretches as he rises from his chair. Time for lunch and thus time for a break! Should he go upstairs or see what’s being served in the dining room?

“Alastor?” He hears his name being called.

The Radio Demon’s ears perk up. Vox! Vox was here!

Alastor charges out of the office. He skids to a stop when he sees Niffty seated at Husk’s bar. He slowly walks past them at an unbothered pace. He hears Husk snicker but chooses to ignore him.

“Good day, Vox.” Alastor says. “I hope everything is well. I was just about to have a spot of lunch.”

Vox frowns, obviously confused by the deer demon’s behavior. Alastor gives a slight shake of his head and looks back at the direction of Niffty who’s watching now. Vox nods in understanding. “Right! Right! Everything was good for me. Got a bunch of work done so Vesta said I could go.”

“Hold up,” Niffty suddenly shouts. She hops off the barstool. She marches over to the two Overlords and squints up at them. “Hmm. There’s something up with you too.”

Fuck!

“Niffty,” Alastor laughs. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Niffty does a slow circle around them. “There’s something different about the two of you. Just…something. I can’t put my finger on it.” She scratches her chin as she ponders the two nervous Overlords.

“Hey, Niffty.” Husk calls. “I just saw Fat Nuggets tracking mud. You should probably go get him before he makes more of a mess.”

“Oh no!” Niffty runs from the room.

         When she’s gone, Husk hops over the bar and walks over to Alastor and Vox. “Okay, we got maybe a minute before she realizes there’s no mud. I’m going to help you two, but I got demands.”

         Vox and Alastor exchange a look. “Um, okay?” Vox says.

         “Actually, Vox I ain’t got a beef with you. My demands are for Al and Al alone.”

         Alastor narrows his eyes. “What are your demands?”

         “First, I want two shots of vodka. The real stuff.”

         Simple enough. Alastor waves a hand and two shot glasses of clear vodka appear on the bar.

Husk practically drools at the sight of them, but he composes himself. “Cool. My second demand is this: be fucking nicer to me. I’m not asking us to be fucking besties but I’m about to do something that’s going to get me a lot of shit, so I’d appreciate a little kindness in the future.”

Alastor scrutinizes the cat demon. He sighs. “I promise to try.”

Husk’s ears droop. He shrugs. “Good enough.” He walks over to the bar and waits.

         Sure enough, Niffty comes back looking a bit miffed. She glares at Husk. “I didn’t see any mud!”

         The winged cat demon shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you. Must have been mistaken.”

         Niffty gives him another look before returning to Alastor and Vox. She stares at them. “I just don’t understand,” she murmurs. “Something’s different between the two of you. It’s in your whole…aura?”

         Alastor sees Husk pick up one of the shots and down it. He looks like he’s trying to psych himself up. He sucks in deep breaths and drums his claws against the bar’s top.

         “Niffty,” Vox chuckles nervously. “I swear there’s nothing different about us.”

         The small maid shakes her head. “No,” she counters. “I can feel it! Look at you!”

         Husk rounds the counter and stands there. He looks ill.

         Niffty tilts her head from one side to the other. “I’ve almost got it…” she whispers.

         “I’ve been thinking about asking Angel Dust to marry me!”

         Niffty goes still.

Both Vox and Alastor look up at the direction of Husk.

         Husk swallows hard and repeats, “I’ve been thinking about asking Angel to marry me.”

         Niffty begins to scream. The suddenness of it causes Vox to jump and Alastor to stare at her in open shock. The maid has her head thrown back, mouth open wide, and just screams a long, continuous shrill scream. She whips around, skitters over to Husk, hops on the bar, and points at him. She hops off the bar and runs back to the two Overlords and points back at Husk.

         And the entire time she screams.

         Husk sighs and with a resigned look, picks up the remaining shot and downs it. He curls his tail around himself as a still screaming Niffty runs at him, picks him up, and carries him out of the room.

         Vox and Alastor both salute him for his valiant sacrifice.

         “So,” Vox says, now that that’s all over. “Lunch?” Alastor nods. “Cool. What do you feel like?”

         “I was thinking we could make a couple of sandwiches and take them to my room. I wanted to go over some things with you before tonight’s show.”

         “Not a bad idea,” Vox says as they walk. He pauses and listens.

         They both can still hear the faint sound of Niffty’s screams.

         “Is he going to be okay?” Vox asks. “Husk, I mean. She seems a little…intense.”

         Alastor waves a hand. “Husk will be fine.” He and Vox make their way to the kitchen. “Say, didn’t you tell me you were bringing Vark? Where is he?”

         Vox looks around. “No idea. Hang on.” He reaches into his coat and pulls out an unopened bag of animal crackers.

He looks left.

He looks right.

Vox opens the bag.

Vark comes thundering into the room, sliding as he comes to a stop in front of the Media Overlord. Vox chuckles and pours the little bag of crackers into the demon shark’s waiting mouth. “Where were you?”

Vark snuffles and licks his chops once the animal crackers have been consumed. Vox laughs again and gives his pet affectionate pets. Vark huffs then directs a mournful gaze at Alastor.

The deer demon shows his empty hands. “No such luck, my amphibious friend.”

Vark huffs again and upon realizing that there were no more treats to be had, he pads off to another part of the hotel to nap.

The Overlords share a grin before continuing their way to the kitchen.

Alastor sings quietly under his breath as he and Vox construct their meals. “…his fingers stroke those keys, and every note says, ‘Please’ and every chord says, ‘Turn my way’…”

“I thought I knew what love was, but these lovers play new music,” Vox finishes. He nudges Alastor with his elbow. “You know,” he smiles. “I was almost afraid you wouldn’t like Ragtime.”

“I don’t know why! It was delightful. A little sad in some parts,” Alastor says softly. His eyes drift to the side as he remembers something from his past. He shakes away the memory. “But a delightful soundtrack!”

“I bet I can find it on a record for you.”

Alastor looks excited by that prospect. They’d listened to music on either Vox’s phone or on those compact discs. Both were nice enough, but if Vox could find him records, he could play them in his room! “I’m going to hold you to that,” he tells Vox. The TV-headed demon just laughs. They grab their sandwiches and head upstairs. The two Overlords spot Charlie on their way to the stairs. She brightens at the sight of them together and gives them a little wave. Alastor stiffens but relaxes once more when the princess keeps walking, heading to the kitchen.

He can’t keep this up forever. Someone was bound to find out about him and Vox. Not that he wanted to hide their relationship. Far from it. What he wanted was for the information to come out in a way that he wanted. Not because someone sniffed it out. The problem was that walls had ears (and eyes as Hell had very interesting architecture) and the news was going to get out one way or another.

Vox looks over to him and frowns at the sight of Alastor so lost in thought. “What’s got you looking so dour, Radio Demon?”

“Dour? Me?” Alastor tries to joke. Unfortunately, he can’t manage an upbeat tone. “I’m just thinking about us.”

“Why?”

“Well, I appreciate what Husker did, drawing away Niffty’s attention like that, but I’m afraid that it’s only a matter of time before someone discovers us.” He growls. “And I’m also afraid that the person who does won’t be a delightful little maid who dabbles in perverted artwork.”

“Look, if there’s anything I’ve learned working with and in the media as long as I have, it's that if you want to spin a story in your favor, then you need to be the one to spill it first. Information gets leaked all the time, believe you me. The trick is getting your side out there first.”

Alastor nods. He shifts his plate to one hand so he can unlock the door. “Well, enough of that. Let’s have a nice meal. Everything else can wait.”

“Good evening, listeners!” Alastor leans toward his microphone. “Before I begin tonight’s show let me just offer my sincerest apologies for our impromptu hiatus last week. As many of you know, besides being a very talented radio host, I am also the business partner to the Princess of Hell herself and my presence was needed elsewhere. It was a lovely party. Oh! That reminds me. I must give a special word of thanks to Habernathy DePlume or I would if you weren’t currently in a coma! Ha! Listeners, you’re in for a treat! While I usually do these shows solo, it’s my great honor to welcome tonight’s special guest! Say hello!”

Vox grins. He leans closer to the mic and says, “Well, hello. It’s good to be here. Thanks for having me, Alastor. Don’t worry, folks,” He purrs. “I promise to behave.”

Alastor snorts. “Don’t believe him, listeners. You wouldn’t believe the shenanigans he tried to get up to earlier! He kept distracting me as I was going over my notes!”

Vox winks at Alastor but doesn’t say how he had been distracting the Radio Demon nor does he point out that he’d simply been sitting there when Alastor decided he wanted to start kissing the TV Demon’s neck, face, and hands.

Alastor goes about his usual routine with a story that provides an insight into his former life. The only difference is that Vox is there, and the TV Demon inserts comments or asks questions about something Alastor previously said. It’s a nice change of pace. He doesn’t usually mind the solitude of his tower, but he’s glad for the company.

For the recipe segment he shares a recipe for alligator sauce piquant. “Now, it’s very important to me that you realize that there is a difference between sauce piquant and gumbo,” Alastor says. “The two are similar but piquant is more tomato based giving it a brighter color while also complementing the richness of the roux. Now, using alligator isn’t required. You can use turtle, frogs, crawfish, chicken, or venison. But,” Alastor growls. “If I find out anyone has besmirched this recipe by using tofu, I will find out and then Mr. DePlume will have a roommate. Well, on to the news! Vox, I read somewhere that a furrier has gotten her establishment closed down. Can you believe that?” Alastor consults his notes. “It says here, she was collecting the discarded appendages from the animals she skinned and was selling them as – and you’re not going to believe this – herbal sexual remedies.”

“Hm,” Vox says. “Sounds like she committed a real faux paw.”

Alastor had been in the middle of reading something about the disgraced furrier when the Media Overlord made that joke. It causes him to pause mid-sentence. He looks at Vox.

Alastor puts a hand over his microphone and with the other he grabs Vox by his coat and pulls him closer. He kisses the Media Overlord deeply. “I love you,” he whispers. He starts to let him go but decides to go in for another one. Then another. Alastor eventually pulls away and loudly clears his throat. “Apologies for the silence, dear listeners. A bit of – ah – technical difficulty.”

“I got caught on something,” Vox supplies helpfully. “It really had a hold of me.”

“Mm,” Alastor says. He stares thoughtfully at Vox. “Listeners, I know that I usually do a song after reading some of your mail, but I think that in honor of our guest I’d like to push it ahead.” Alastor feels jitters, but he pushes them down. Vox shoots him a curious look. “Vox has been introducing me to some fascinating music. As the Radio Demon, I’m a bit of a connoisseur and I always love to add more to my collection.” His mic plays a snippet of an orchestra. “This morning I heard the most enchanting musical based on a French play. La Cage aux Folles. Ever heard of it? Listeners, it was quite good. It’s well after my time, but it has so many exquisite musical numbers.” Alastor stands up and moves over to his piano. He beckons for Vox to follow.

In for a penny. Well, if he was going to do this then he was doing it his way.

After all, everything’s better with a song.

“Now, this is the version with Gene Berry and George Hearn. Marvelous gentlemen, in my opinion. Vox are you ready?”

Vox looks between Alastor and the mic. He’s finally picked up with what Alastor wants to do. “I am,” he says slowly. “If you’re really sure.” He gives the Radio Demon a look heavy with meaning.

Alastor nods. “Of course. There’s no better time. We’ve got an audience and everything.” He plays a laugh track. He clears his throat and begins to play in a jaunty A-key. “Life is a celebration with you on my arm.”

Vox smiles softly and sings, “Life is a celebration with you on my arm.” He sits next to Alastor, and continues, “It’s worth the aggravation with you on my arm.”

Together they croon, “Each time I face a morning that’s boring and bland. With you it looks good.”

“With you it looks great,” Alastor smiles at Vox.

Vox grins, “With you it looks grand.”

“Holy shit,” Angel stares at the radio. He looks at Husk. “Are they doing what I think they’re doing?”

“They are,” Husk says gruffly. He rolls his eyes. Leave it to Alastor to announce his relationship in the most over the top goddamned way. “Wait a minute,” Husk’s jaw drops. “Did that sonuvabitch let me distract Niffty knowing full well he was going to do this anyway?! Fuck!”

Angel tears his eyes away from the radio. He frowns at the cat demon. “What do you mean? What’d you do to distract Niffty?”

Husk falls silent and starts cleaning a glass. He refuses to meet Angel’s eyes. “Nevermind.”

“Husk…”

“Forget I said anything. Just listen to the two lovebirds.”

Angel Dust turns his entire body away from the radio and glares at Husk. The winged cat demon sighs. “Fine,” he growls. “You wanna know? I told Niffty that I was thinking about asking you to marry me.”

The spider demon blinks. “Oh,” he says. Angel turns back to the radio.

Husk frowns. On the one hand he’s relieved he got off easy but on the other…

“What do you mean ‘oh’?”

“Well, it’s like you said. You were just saying it to distract Niffty. You weren’t being serious.” Angel Dust laughs bitterly before adding, “I mean, why would you be serious?”

Husk’s brow furrows. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Angel doesn’t answer. Irritated, the cat demon reaches over to switch off the radio. “Hey!” Angel Dust snaps. “I was listening—”

“No! You were the one who wanted to bring this up so now we’re gonna talk about it. Why’d you say that?”

Angel blows his bangs out of his face with an irritated puff of air. “I mean, look at me. You really expect me to believe you’d wanna settle down with someone like me?”

Husk stares at him.

Angel continues, “I mean, I get it. I’m good for fun. I’ve been around the block. I know how to make you feel good, but that’s all I’m good for. Nobody’s going to…I’ve come to accept that I’m not marriage material, alright?”

“Shut the fuck up, Angel.”

The spider demon’s head snaps up. Husk glares at him. He points a claw at Angel and spits out, “Don’t you dare sit there and feed me that bullshit. You ain’t damaged goods or whatever other shit’s jangling around in that pretty head of yours. How many times do I gotta tell you that I love you? How many times do I gotta tell you that you’re just as deserving of love and happiness as any other schmuck down here? Hell, there are times where I lie awake at night and think about how someone as great as you could have ended up stuck with a loser like me. I would love to fucking marry you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Husk suddenly looks nervous. “Have you never…have you never considered it?”

“Of course, I have! I just thought I’d never have a chance. I thought I’d be stuck with Valentino forever. There was no way he’d ever let me get married.” Angel laughs. “I mean, he was real vocal about how no one could ever want me for anything other than a place to shoot their load. I was just a thing to be used not to be loved, right?”

“Valentino’s an asshole,” Husk growls. He reaches across the bar and takes one of Angel Dust’s hands. “I love you, Angel Dust. I know that we can’t do anything right now, but I…maybe in the future…would ya ever?”

Angel Dust leans forward and places a gentle kiss on Husk’s forehead. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I would.”

Husk ducks his head to hide a grin. “That’s great,” he says, and Angel can hear the beginning rumbles of a purr. “That’s really fucking great.”

Charlie screams as she and Niffty jump up and down on her bed. Vaggie watches the two with an amused half smile. On the radio, Vox and Alastor have gotten up to dance, but the piano keeps playing. Alastor’s taps keep pace with the music.

“On you it looks good,” Vox sings.

“On you it looks great,” Alastor replies,

“On you it looks grand!” Charlie and Niffty scream in unison.

  “Okay, you two. While I can appreciate what a momentous occasion this is for the both of you, I really need you to hop down.” Vaggie rubs her forehead. “Guys, you’re going to ruin the mattress.”

         A body slumps against the wall, the last bit of life leaking out of it in the form of crimson blood.

         Valentino lowers his gun to his side and gnashes his teeth. On the radio, Vox and Alastor continue their duet, the previous song has finished so they start a new one. He can hear the affection in their voices—the playfulness—and he’s filled with a terrible, terrible hate.

         A servant, shaking like a leaf, pokes his head in. Wordlessly, the moth demon points at the corpse. He has no idea who the demon was, but the poor bastard had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Get rid of that,” Valentino orders. “And get rid of that fucking radio too! I want it gone!” He turns and stalks toward his bedroom. Once inside, Valentino lights up a cigarette. He drops onto a settee and begins smoking like a chimney. Fuck Alastor! That tap-shoe wearing, deal-peddling fucker had not only stolen his contracted soul but also his boyfriend! Valentino snarls and backhands a lamp off the table. It goes crashing to the floor and shatters to bits. He stares at the broken chunks of colored glass.

         If Alastor thinks I’m going to stand for this bullshit, then he’s got another thing coming. A smile creeps slowly over Valentino’s face. The deer demon was in for a world of hurt. Valentino was going to take back what was his and he didn’t care who he had to hurt to make it happen.

         Enjoy it while it lasts, Radio Demon, Valentino thinks with a dark chuckle, Cuz I’m going to restore the natural order soon enough. Just you fucking wait.

         “Through the crash of the waves, I could tell that the words were romantic; something about sharing, something about always…” Alastor gives the bench a pat. “Though the years race along, I still think of our song on the sand. And I still try and search for the words I can barely remember. Would you care to finish it, Vox?”

         “Though the time tumbles by there is one thing that I am forever certain of…” Vox takes a seat next to the deer demon. He puts a hand to Alastor’s cheek and the Radio Demon closes his eyes and leans into the touch. “I hear: La da da da da da da. Da da da da da da.”

         Alastor stops playing and the piano falls silent. He takes hold of the hand currently against his cheek. He presses a kiss against the knuckles. Looking Vox dead in the eyes as he sings the final lyric, putting as much warmth into the words as Georges did for Albin, “And I’m young and in love…”

         Vox leans in and the two share the gentlest of kisses. Alastor sits back, glances at his mic. “Well, listeners. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I’d like to call it a night a bit earlier than usual. Don’t worry. I’ll see you again next week at our regular time, for our regular length. Until then be well. Until next time, dear listeners.” As he plays the outro of his music, Alastor takes Vox’s hands and leads him out of the radio tower into the main part of his suite. He closes the door behind him then presses the TV Demon against, kissing him hungrily. “An excellent show,” he murmurs against the Media Overlord’s neck.

         “Yeah?” Hearts float along Vox’s face as the Radio Demon undoes his tie and the buttons of his shirt so he can kiss every inch of flesh he can find.

         “Oh yes,” Alastor purrs. He bites down on Vox’s shoulders, earning him a yelp. His sharp teeth break the skin, and he licks away the blood.

         “Easy now,” Vox warns.

         “Now, now. No need to worry. I’m not about to devour you. I simply wanted a taste.”

         “You know, for a guy not interested in sex you’re really good at getting the engine running, so to speak.”

         “Am I?” Alastor’s smile broadens. “Well, as I said. My previous paramours were perfectly satisfied with heavy petting. I learned to recognize what touches prompted the best responses. After all, my goal was to keep them interested so they’d follow me to their doom.”

         “Mm-hmm,” Vox murmurs. He hisses when Alastor brushes against him. “I thought you lured their family members to their doom?”

         “Oh, that was in the beginning. Sometimes I had a bit of fun and led my lovers to an early grave. Sometimes it was strangers. Whatever I was in the mood for at the time.”

         “I see,” Vox closes his eyes. Alastor was really good at this. “Alastor, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I can – shit! I c-can take care of things myself.”

         “Oh, don’t worry. I was simply getting you excited,” Alastor pulls back. He goes over to his chair and takes a seat.

         Vox nods and starts to straighten his clothes when he finds his arms being restrained. His legs are pulled apart by a pair of shadowy tendrils. “Alastor?”

         A shadowy tentacle hands a bottle of amber liquid and a glass to Alastor. The deer demon pours himself a glass then leans back in his chair to get comfortable. “I wish to observe,” he tells Vox. “I don’t understand the appeal, but I do wish to see what you look like when you come undone.” He gives the other Overlord a dark look.

         The look reminds Vox enough of that illustration from Niffty’s book that his cock twitches inside his pants. “Fuck it,” he pants. He nods. “Yeah. Okay. I’m down. Let’s do this.”

         “Excellent,” Alastor says before signaling the tentacles. They coil around Vox and carry him to Alastor’s bed. Tentacles sprout from the wall and restrain Vox by the wrists and ankles. “Will you tell me if it becomes too much?”

         “Yes!”

         “Swear to me.”       

         “I swear! I fucking swear!”

         Alastor nods and more tentacles appear, sliding into Vox’s clothes. The deer demon pours himself another drink and gets comfortable. He summons his cane and leans it next to him. On the bed, a thick tentacle slides in and out of the Media Overlord’s mouth while another wrapped up around his thigh and down the back of his pants, matches the pace.

         Tonight was going to prove to be quite educational indeed. 

Chapter Text

He opens his eyes. The sun hasn’t risen yet. He looks over to the bed.

The Creator slumbers, his arm around the TV-headed Not-Creator.

He glides over to the bed and peers down at his Creator, Alastor the Radio Demon. His gaze drifts over to the sleeping form of the Not-Creator. He heard the Creator call him, “Vox.”

Vox…

This particular Not-Creator has been his Creator’s adversary for so long. He remembers being summoned to help his master fight him on many occasions. Now, they were no longer enemies. They were friends. Lovers.

The shadow caresses the side of the Not-Creator’s face. Vox murmurs but remains asleep.

Shadow returns his gaze to his Creator.

The Creator made him in his image, fashioned him by giving his own shadow life. Since his birth, the shadow has never moved far from his master’s side unless ordered. Most of the time, he’s either dormant or in the Void.

The Void…

The Creator once made the comment about him having plenty of friends. It made Shadow realize that the Creator could be wrong. He didn’t have friends in the Void. He was made in the Creator’s image and thus the moppets, haints, and dolls revered him. They treated him as an extension of the Creator’s will. You don’t befriend the object of your worship and even if you did, Shadow didn’t want that. He didn’t want their fawning attention either, but he was stuck with it.

Strange.

He didn’t remember wanting things before. That was a recent development. Wanting things. Having thoughts that weren’t aligned with the Creator’s.

Having…desires…

His gaze once again shifts to Vox the Not-Creator.

The Shadow remembers bringing life to his shadow. He remembers because he had done it after a blasphemous thought about his own master. Something that, at the time, had filled him with shame and exhilaration.

Why can’t I have what the Creator has?

And he reached for the Not-Creator’s shadow as he walked by. He’d given it a bit of his power. Oh! The rapturous delight when the eyes had opened! The pleasure!

But it had been fleeting. The other shadow’s eyes closed. Shadow refused to be deterred. He observed the growing bond between the Creator and his Vox, and he wanted that for himself. He wanted a friend, a confidante, a lover. Someone who wouldn’t fawn over him or fear him because of who he resembled.

So, he tried again.

And it worked!

Oh, to hold the other shadow in his arms! To know that he was the one who had brought the other being to life!

Imagine his rage when the Creator ripped him away! It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair! Shadow had a second blasphemous thought:

Why should I continue to do what you want? I have always done what you want. Why won’t you let me have this?

It was obvious something had changed between them. No longer were they Master and Servant. No, something was different and had been different since the Not-Creator Who Sings and Smiles had given the Creator that “boon.” Shadow didn’t know why, but he could feel the power as well.

His Creator expected his unquestioning obedience and before Shadow would have done just that.

But that was before, and this was now.

The shadow returned to the hotel and found his new friend. He pulled him free from his tethered spot and the two of them went down to the basement.

What am I , the other shadow immediately asked.

He was curious. Good. Curiosity meant a desire to learn. Shadow dealt with enough complacent idiots in the Void. Former souls who had been stripped of their agency once the Creator shackled them to their new forms. Those beings existed to do the Creator’s bidding and when they weren’t doing that, they simply waited in the abyss that comprised the Void.

You are my friend.

Friend?

Yes. Suddenly nervous, Shadow asks, Is that what you want? He would not be like the Creator. He would not make the other shadow do anything he didn’t want to do.

The other shadow ponders this. He looks at his hands. I want that, yes. Friend. He reaches out to touch Shadow. Who are you?

I was not given a name. Shadow tries not to sound bitter. He brightens. But I can give you—no. You can choose your name. I will choose a name as well. We will both choose our names! Yes. Yes, the idea pleased him.

The other shadow looks around confused. I don’t know how to choose a name. What if I choose a bad one?

You don’t have to rush , Shadow assures him. He takes the other shadow by the hand. Would you like to learn things? I can teach you.

The other shadow nods and so Shadow does. He starts with the most important lesson: shifting in and out of a physical state. It certainly wouldn’t do for his new companion to sink through the floor.

They practice with a ball that Shadow took from the soft pink thing that belongs to the Spider Not-Creator. The other shadow gets discouraged when the ball constantly sinks through his hand, but eventually he gets it.

Shadow is delighted. The other shadow’s victory feels like his victory.

Of course, the Creator ruins it.

He appears and yells at Shadow who tries to escape with his new companion only to be rudely yanked back. The Creator marches them back to Vox’s room to return the other shadow and the entire time he berates Shadow like he’s a disobedient child. Before Shadow would have hung his head in shame. Now, his glare burns defiantly at the back of his master’s head. He has to assure the Creator that he didn’t want to create other companions (although he entertains the thought of bringing the Spider Not-Creator’s shadow to life if only to see the Creator’s face) and that seems to calm him.

Shadow realizes that there’s something odd about the way the Creator is acting. It’s not until much, much later that he realizes what it is.

His Creator doesn’t understand what Shadow has become. The Master doesn’t know what happened.

It makes Shadow feel…strange. The Creator should know all, shouldn’t he? He made them. He made Shadow.

But Shadow can see with each act of defiance or outburst, the confusion on his master’s face and each time it gives the doppelganger a thrill. A sick sense of pleasure.

You are not in control , he thinks smugly more than once. I control me.

It all comes to head when the Creator banishes him to the Void. He floats there, enraged. The Creator was always doing this! Sending him away when he didn’t need the shadow. It was infuriating. It was unfair! It was demeaning.

He didn’t like it.

He.

Wanted.

Out!

Shadow clawed his way out of the Void, back to the Creator’s side.

He still remembers the look of shock and horror on the Creator’s face when he saw Shadow standing there.

Shadow leered down at him, dark amusement in his smiling expression.

Things were different now.

I am different now , Shadow smirks. He sees the way his master goes still in discomfort, and it makes him want to laugh. He wishes to prolong it, so he takes a seat next to him and waits for the Vox Not-Creator to play with his ears. The feeling is pleasurable.

The Creator tells him to leave and he does, but only because he wants to be alone with his new friend.

Where are we going , the other shadow asks.

Away , he replies. Somewhere more private.

He and the other shadow disappear under the couch and reappear in another darkened area in an opposite part of the hotel. It was easy for a shadow creature to use other shadows for transportation. Another thing Shadow will teach his friend.

What would you like to do?

The other shadow stares. My Other touched your ears. Shadow can  hear a tinge of jealousy. I wish to do the same.

Shadow tilts his head to one side. This development surprises him, but he’s not displeased. He takes the other shadow’s hands and raises them to his ears.

The contact feels just as good as it did when the Not-Creator did it—better, in fact. Shadow leans away so the other shadow will remove his hands. When he does, Shadow nuzzles the other shadow’s face. The action confuses them both.

Again , the other shadow orders and Shadow is happy to oblige.

         He rubs his face against the other and there are more of those sparks of pleasure.

         Shadow pauses and moves back.

         There is a new want…

         He wants to do something that he’s seen during his many decades spying for his Creator.

         He places his hands on either side of the other shadow’s face, leans in, and gently kisses the other shadow.

         Oh!

         Ohhhh…

         He must do more of that.

         The other shadow seems to agree. More, he purrs. Again!

         They kiss again and Shadow holds the other close to him. The feeling of physical contact fills him with a heady rush.

         The other shadow places a hand on Shadow’s chin and gently coaxes open his mouth. A serpentine tongue as electric blue as the other shadow’s eyes snakes into Shadow’s mouth. Shadow’s eyes go wide, and he jerks backwards.

         The other shadow flinches away. You didn’t like that?

         Oh, he couldn’t be more wrong. How did you know how to do that?

         The other shadow stops to think. My Other knows, so I know.

         Ah. Well, it appears it wasn’t only his creator learning new things.

         The two shadows decide to learn new things together. They learn to have fun together.

When they weren’t destroying things, attacking demons, or causing general mayhem the shadows liked to observe people. After all, Shadow was created to be his master’s spy.

         The two shadows stare down at a demon couple in an alley.

         What are they doing, chitters the other shadow.

         The two Sinner Demons had been kissing, but now one of them presses the other against the wall and thrusts against him in a strange almost rhythmic motion. Shadow has seen this act (or something similar) many, many, many, many times in his tenure as his Creator’s spy. It’s a form of mating, he explains. The thrusting creates a friction against their genitals. They like the feeling.

         Oh.

         The other demon does seem to enjoy it. He tightens his arms around the other demon’s neck and moans. The couple keep up their activity until the thrusting demon spasms then slumps against his partner. The two demons separate then walk hand in hand back to the main street.

         The shadows watch them go.

         Shadow turns to his companion, Where should we—

         I want to try that, blurts the other shadow.

         Shadow stares. Really? His companion nods. Shadow shrugs. Well, okay.

         They float around until they find a spot in an abandoned decrepit building, dark and secluded enough for their liking.

         Shadow lets the other place his arms around his neck, copying what they’d seen earlier. They thrust clumsily against one another.

         Are we doing this right? The other shadow seems frustrated.

         I’m not sure. It isn’t a lie. Though he’s seen this act plenty of times, Shadow hasn’t really participated in it. This is his first time with a partner, after all. Perhaps we should try changing angles?

         They do so, but something still isn’t right.

         They try a couple of other things before Shadow gets the idea for them to form legs. He slots his leg between the others and—

         Oh!

         Oh. Oh, yes.

         The other shadow shivers, tightening his hold on Shadow. As they continue to grind against each other, wisps of shadows begin to lift from them like steam. The steam becomes a mist and the mist becomes a thick pea soup fog.

They don’t notice at all.

         Harder, his companion whispers.

         Shadow happily complies. He notices that something seems off. He and the other shadow seem to be melting into one another. H-hey…

         Don’t stop.

         He keeps going.

         The two shadows melt into one another. Their combined mass continues to grow, filling the space they’re currently in until the entire room is swathed in shadows.

         At first, Shadow’s frightened, but then he becomes aware of a feeling:

         Pleasure.

         They are one. One being. One mind.

         It feels amazing.

         If an outsider were able to see them, it would look like a room of darkness, where no light could penetrate or exit. They are in the center of this mass, a throbbing, pulsing eye of the storm. Their thoughts meld together as easily as the rest of their bodies. They are safe. They feel a closeness and a bond that’s strangely familiar to him. It reminds Shadow of the Void.

         Yes, he realizes. The Void. He and his companion have made a Void, but only for them. No moppets, dolls, or haints clutter this space. No giant writhing mass of tentacles either. He likes this. He likes this new feeling, the privacy, and he loves that he’s sharing it with the other shadow.

         The two of them begin to separate. Once he is himself again, Shadow collapses panting against the other shadow. The two of them sink to the floor, purring, trilling and clicking with delight.

         I really liked doing that, the other shadow exclaims.

         I did too!

         Can we do it again?

         Shadow nods enthusiastically. He kisses the other shadow deeply and the two of them repeat the process, but thanks to experience they reach the desired peak much faster. They are also able to maintain their melding much longer this time.

         The sun sets by the time the two specters decide to return to the hotel. Shadow wants nothing more than to stay in the other shadow’s company. He wishes he could stay with him. They share one last kiss before the other shadow returns to his double’s side and Shadow begrudgingly returns to the side of his Creator. 

         Shadow is not as slow as his master and realizes his feelings for the other shadow. He and the other spend a lot of time together. They learn quickly that the other shadow didn’t need to remain by Vox’s side all the time despite his newness and they took advantage of it. They would leave the hotel and travel, causing a bit of mischief and mayhem here and there for their amusement.

Have you decided on a name , Shadow asks as they gaze out at the city. Behind them the others sleep in the Vox’s home. They had all been brought there by his shadow’s message. The Vox Not-Creator needed protection but couldn’t ask.

         The other shadow looks bashful. Signal, he replies. He pauses. My Other says it sometimes as I try to leave. He holds up his little toy and says, “I can’t find a signal!” So, I thought he was talking about me. Does he mean me?

         I don’t think so, but it’s still a good name. Shadow tries it out, Signal. My Signal.

         The newly named Signal smiles. Your Signal?

         Shadow trills with delight. Yes, my Signal. He nuzzles Signal’s face. I am yours too.

         Have you chosen a name?

         Shadow tilts his head and thinks. His Master has lately taken to calling him many things, but Shadow doesn’t think they’re complimentary, so he doesn’t really want them. Not yet, but I will. Signal looks sad. Shadow chitters and kisses him. Don’t worry. I will find one. Would you like to go do something fun while they sleep?

         Yes, but what?

         Shadow looks toward the Creator and Vox the Not-Creator. My Creator was very upset when he found out what was happening to your Other.

         Signal scowls and Shadow finds it fascinating. His Creator denied him that ability. As his copy, Shadow can only smile but the doppelganger has learned how to express his displeasure in other ways. My Other hurts because of him. He’s so tired and weak from being unable to sleep.

         Shadow nods. He curls around Signal. We can go make him pay.

         How?

         Let’s go break things!

         Break things?

         Yes, Shadow’s grin widens. His things.

         Signal grins too. Ok! That does sound fun.

         And it was! Well, until the Not-Creator Who Causes Pain showed up at the hotel and blamed his Creator for the destruction. Unfortunately for him, he made the mistake of striking Signal’s Other, and the shadow retaliated. To make matters worse, it revealed Signal’s existence to the others as well as the fact that the Creator had known about it and had kept it a secret.

         Vox doesn’t seem upset, and Shadow found that curious. He watches as the two study one another.

         Shadow has another blasphemous thought:

         Both. I could have them both. I should have them both.

         He casts a sidelong glance at his master. The Creator didn’t even realize his feelings for the TV-headed Not-Creator, so really if Shadow stole him away, he had no one to blame but himself.

Now that everyone knew about him, Shadow didn’t have to sneak around to see Signal, a fact he was more than happy to take advantage of, but Signal has other ideas.

         I want to go somewhere.

         Shadow trills, happily. Okay. Where?

         Signal shakes his head. Not with you. By myself.

         Shadow knows he doesn’t have a heart, but he swears he can feel something breaking. Did I do something wrong?

         Signal shakes his head. I want to explore by myself. I need to get stronger. For the both of you.

         Shadow wants to counter that he’s strong enough for all of them, but he stops. His Creator tries to keep him tethered and didn’t Shadow promise Signal he’d give the other specter freedom?

         Shadow relents. Be careful, he tells Signal. He tries to keep the sadness out of his tone.

         Signal kisses him. Thank you, he smiles before phasing through a wall.

         Shadow doesn’t know what to do. He goes to explore the hotel but ends up in the Not-Creator Vox’s room.

         Shadow watches as the demon strokes himself with one hand while keeping a book balanced on his lap. Shadow has seen this action many times as well. The doppelganger was always amazed how much time Not-Creators spent doing things to and with their bodies. He wants to make his presence known, but he can’t help watching this Vox. When he finally spills, that is when Shadow announces that he’s in the room. The Not-Creator Vox rears back, shame and shock written all over his face. He stammers a clumsy excuse and Shadow finds it endearing. Shadow catches a glimpse of what the Vox had been reading. It was one of the books written by the Tiny Not-Creator Cleaner bound to his Creator.

         Ah. So, the TV-headed Not-Creator has feelings for his master. Such a waste.

         You could be mine instead, Shadow thinks as he glides toward the demon. Wouldn’t you like that? He runs his tongue along Vox’s face. I’d like that. Shadow winks before phasing through the floor. The Vox yells something after him, but Shadow is too far away to hear.

         Shadow rejoins his Creator in his office. He stares at his master, watching him work.

         Shadow finds himself…annoyed.

         The Creator didn’t know it all. He was not all-powerful. He was powerful, yes but not all-powerful.

         In fact, if Shadow was being honest with himself. His Creator seemed sort of…dumb.

         He didn’t even realize that the Vox Not-Creator had feelings for him.

         The Vox shows up and acts awkwardly. The Creator looks at Shadow suspiciously.

         Shadow could tell him what he witnessed, but he had already promised the Not-Creator that he wouldn’t.

         Also, he didn’t want to so…

         When the Not-Creator falls asleep on the couch while the Creator sleeps in his bed, Shadow snorts. Perhaps he should show his master a kindness? He’s feeling generous.

         Shadow gently lifts the Vox and carries him to his master’s bedroom. By transforming his lower half to a prehensile serpentine tail he’s able to pull the covers away and slide Vox into place. He pulls the covers back and watches as the Creator and Not-Creator immediately move closer to one another in their sleep.

         All he has to do now is wait.

         Shadow wishes Signal was here. He wants someone to pass the night with. He briefly thinks about returning to the ether to kill time, but decides against it.

         Morning doesn’t come soon enough and Shadow watches with barely contained glee from his hiding spot at his Creator’s reaction. Sadly, the Not-Creator seems more upset, so Shadow goes over to comfort him.

         I wasn’t trying to upset you, he assures the demon. His master watches him, displeased. Shadow can’t seem to make himself care. Once upon a time, such a thing would have horrified the doppelganger.

         Signal returns and Shadow’s morning instantly approves. You came back! Shadow chitters and trills.

         Of course, I came back. Why wouldn’t I?

         Shadow doesn’t answer. Instead, he chases his companion around the room. I missed you. Shadow tells Signal.

         I missed you too. Traveling alone is boring.

         While he’s happy to hear that Signal missed him, he’s not happy to hear that the other shadow hadn’t enjoyed himself. Did you have any fun at all?

         Signal stops to think. A little, he admits, but it would have been more fun with you there.

         Shadow grins at that.

         Their impromptu game of chase ends when Signal gets distracted by the noisy beeps and boops. His Other is playing a game on his phone.

         I want to see, Signal whispers in awe. He glides over to the Vox and peers over his shoulder.

         Shadow finds it remarkable how seemingly kinder the Vox is to Signal. It’s little things like letting his shadow double watch him play games over his shoulder. The Vox also shows kindness to Shadow.

         Shadow glances at his Master and sees him watching as well. Shadow’s relationship with his Creator has become more strained as of late. The Creator hasn’t taken to Shadow’s independence and autonomy very well. Shadow supposes that he could try to be more understanding. This must be difficult for his Creator.

         But…

         Shadow finds he has no desire to be understanding to a master who doesn’t do the same. His Master’s continued disrespect grates at Shadow and so the doppelganger retaliates with acts of disobedience which leads to more disrespect from his Creator.

         They are trapped in a vicious cycle, but neither wants to say they submitted to the other’s demands.

         Perhaps that’s why Shadow continues to antagonize his Creator.

         In a brazen act of defiance, Shadow decides that it’s time to make his intentions known.

         He moves to float behind both the Vox and Signal. He meets his master’s gaze and caresses the side of the Vox’s face as well as the side of Signal’s. The Vox momentarily looks up from his game to give Shadow a look of confusion before returning his attention to his phone. Signal gives a low purr at the contact but doesn’t look up, too entranced by the bright colors and noises.

         Shadow puts a hand on both their shoulders and keeps them there.

         Mine, he says to his Creator. They are mine.

         The Creator charges for him, grabbing Shadow and pulling him from the room. Shadow claws, snarls, and roars but his master holds firm.

         When they’re outside the room, the Creator tells him that Shadow can have Signal, but the Not-Creator is his. They get interrupted by the appearance of the Short and Angry Not-Creator who announces that the Vox Not-Creator has guests. 

The Creator warns that the conversation is merely paused not ended. 

Shadow agrees even as he phases away.       

The days go by, and Shadow and Signal grow closer. When they’re not in the hotel they’re in Vox’s tower. When they’re not in Vox’s tower, they’re causing destruction.

Almost unexpectedly the Creator finally realizes his true feelings for the Not-Creator Vox. It only took forever.

Of course, he decides to deny those feelings.

You’re a fool, Shadow hisses.

“Who asked you?” the Creator retorts.

His Creator’s process is slow. He knows what he feels for the Vox, but he won’t act. He's too afraid that he’ll ruin their friendship. It confuses the shadow because why couldn’t they also be friends while admitting they love each other? Were those things mutually exclusive?

         It sounded like his master was simply making excuses.

         Luckily, Shadow sees something that he can use to get his master to act.

         It starts as a boring day, but then Shadow feels the presence of Signal. Curious, he goes to find the other shadow and spots the Vox skirting past the bar where the Feline Not-Creator slept and pretended to work. The Vox goes up the stairs and uses Signal to open the Creator’s door. Signal’s and Shadow’s eyes briefly meet.

         What are you doing?

         Signal shrugs. I don’t know. He just asked me to open the door. I think he wants something inside.

Shadow phases through the floor and hides so he can watch the Not-Creator. The Vox makes a beeline for the Creator’s wall of knives and selects one. He hides it under his coat and leaves, using Signal to relock the door on their way out.

Well, that was strange.

So strange that Shadow immediately goes to tell the Creator.

He doubts Shadow, of course, so the doppelganger shows him what he saw.

They trail the Vox and watch as he sloppily murders another Not-Creator.

Shadow can feel the pulse of want and desire over his bond with the Creator even before they make their way down to where the Vox currently feeds.

Signal and Shadow watch as their double and Creator kiss. The Creator opens a portal and the two disappear through it.

Signal turns to Shadow. What now?

Shadow thinks. Want to find a dark building and mate?

Yes.

Where do you go when your Other doesn’t need you?

Shadow winces. He was afraid that this day would come. I go where I want, but sometimes I go to the Void.

Signal perks up. What’s that? Is that your home?

In a way, Shadow picks up a cookie from the sheet that the Tiny Not-Creator Cleaner just pulled from the oven and crushes it between his hands. The crumbs fall to the floor where the soft pink thing and the big sharp-toothed gray thing lap them up.

Signal takes a cookie and crushes it as well. I would like to see your home. Would you take me there?

Do I have to, Shadow grumbles. He relents when he sees Signal’s hurt expression. He doesn’t like to make Signal sad. Oh, alright. Hang on. He takes the baking sheet and sends the remaining cookies spilling to the floor. Okay. We can go now. Hold my hand.

Getting to the Void is easy for Shadow. Unlike his Creator, he doesn’t need a portal. He simply needs to want to be there, and he is.

Signal lets out a sigh of pleasure. So dark, he chirrs. So pleasing. I like it here. He looks at Shadow. Is something wrong?

Shadow grimaces. Just wait.

Signal looks confused and his confusion turns to fear when they find themselves surrounded by a crowd of moppets and dolls. He grabs hold of Shadow’s arm and stares wide-eyed at the cheering beings.

Shadow glares at the gathered beings. Go away, he orders.

What is that, one of them asks, pointing at Signal.

I am Signal, Signal replies.

A hush falls over the crowd. Did the Creator make him, a moppet asks.

No , Shadow says, annoyed. I did. He is mine. He is my friend and love.

He realizes too late that he’s made a horrible mistake.

The moppets and dolls press closer, baying for his attention. They try to touch him. They try to touch Signal, clawing at the two taller shadows like fanatic devotees.

He Creates! He Creates! You are just like the Master! You are a Creator!

Leave us alone! Shadow snarls. He puts Signal behind him in a futile attempt to protect him. There are too many and they are everywhere.

One of the dolls tries to pull at Shadow. Bless us with the ability to make, she weeps. Bless us as the Creator blessed you!

Fuck off! Shadow puts an arm around Signal and pulls him into the air. He flies him to a safer distance. The dolls and moppets howl in anguish as they leave.

Signal shakes like a leaf. Shadow trills and click to soothe him. He gives the other shadow little kisses and tries to calm him. I’m sorry.

It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting…that.

How could you? Shadow sighs. We can go see the Elder. I much prefer they’re company to the others.

Shadow leads them to a secluded area in the Void. There, a mass of tentacles writhes and undulates. Technically, they have no name (the Creator can’t be bothered to name things, but he’s more than happy to strip them away) but Shadow has taken to referring to them collectively as the Elder. The Elder is older than Shadow. One of the first forces of darkness called into being by the Creator. Shadow has no idea where they came from, but he likes them just the same. The Elder doesn’t fawn over Shadow nor do they chatter incessantly. Shadow comes here when he wants silence but not solitude.

Elder, Shadow calls. I’m here and I brought a friend.

The Elder moves toward Shadow but stops as they sense Signal. The tentacles wrap around Signal’s waist and pull him into the air.

Signal begins to panic. What’s going on?

Shadow laughs. It’s okay! They’re just saying hello.

They were not.

As mentioned, the Elder is quite old.

Old and easily confused.

They’re quite single-minded (although Shadow’s unsure if they have one) when they’re given orders. Most of the time, the Creator summons them when he needs to make an impressively terrifying show of force.

However, more recently, the Creator has begun summoning the Elder to pleasure the Vox and Signal is Vox-shaped.

They are so very easily confused.

Shadow wrestles Signal away from the Elder which is no easy feat given how much of them there are and due to their strength and size. Shadow eventually just resorts to biting. When he finally manages to get Signal away from the Elder, the two shadows decide that they’ve had enough of the Void and leave.

Well, Shadow says when they’re back in Hell proper. That’s where I go…sometimes. Very rarely.

I-it’s nice, Signal says.

It’s not but thank you for being kind. Shadow looks awkward for a moment. I’m sorry the Elder tried to—

Let’s not talk about that. Ever.

Shadow nods. He and Signal scale up to the roof of a building and look around. Shadow points at an unsuspecting demon. Signal flies down, scoops the demon up into the air and carries him to the top of the roof.

“Oh God!” the demon screams as the two shadows leer at him. “Don’t hurt me!”

You didn’t say ‘please’, Shadow chitters even though he knows the demon can’t understand him. He and Signal fly up high into the air.

They let the demon drop.

The demon screams as he falls. He hits a flagpole which bounces him into an awning which bounces him into a pile of discarded tires that were set on the curb to be picked up by the garbage cans. The demon rolls onto the ground, shaken but alive. “Holy shit!” He pats himself. “Holy shit! I’m alive! In your fucking faces! Idiots!” he laughs as he points up at Shadow and Signal. He laughs again, turns to walk away, and gets mowed down by a garbage truck that skids to a stop. Shadow and Signal throw up their arms and cheer.

Two tiny garbage Imps hop off the truck and begin tossing the tires into the back of the truck. They peer at the bloody, broken remains of the demon. The garbage Imps look at one another before scraping the demon off the pavement and tossing him into the back of the truck as well. They climb back onto the truck and give the truck’s side a knock so the driver knows they can pull away.

The shadows descend back to the roof and laugh uproariously. We timed that perfectly, Signal giggles.

I wish we could have seen his face the second the truck hit him. Shadow grins.

Grab another!

Shadow goes down and selects another demon. This one is a wriggler and Shadow drops him midair. The demon ends up being speared on top of a statue of Lucifer. It makes Signal laugh, so Shadow still counts it as a win.

         You’re able to talk to your Other, Signal comments one day.

         He’s not my Other, Shadow clarifies. He’s my Creator. My master.

         Oh. Signal says. But you do talk to him?

         Yes.

         And he understands you?

         Yes.

         Signal lets out a wistful sigh. I wish my Other could talk to me.

         Shadow snorts. It’s overrated. When he sees the other shadow’s crestfallen expression he quickly adds, But maybe you can learn.

         Signal looks excited by that prospect.

         Shadow attempts to teach Signal as best as he can. Truth be told, he’s unsure how he’s able to communicate with the Creator. The two of them just have a bond that allows his master to give orders and instructions even when they’re not in the same room.

         Focus on him, he instructs. What do you want to say to him? What do you want him and him alone to hear?

         The Vox Not-Creator sits on a sofa in the hotel’s TV room. He’s scrolling down a pad, not really paying attention. His head rests on the lap of the Creator who works on a crossword in the paper. Shadow considers that favorable because a distracted mind is easier to enter.

         Visualize a wall, Shadow tells Signal. That is his mind. Now, slowly create a door. Do you see it?

         Yes.

         Good. Open that door.

         Signal rears backward and lets out a whimper of pain. Shadow reaches for him. Sorry! Sorry! I forgot to tell you that you need to brace yourself. You’re hearing his unfiltered thoughts.

         Loud!

         I know! I know! Shadow wraps his arms around Signal and cradles the other shadow. Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay. We can stop.

         No. No, I want to keep going. Signal pulls away. He refocuses on his Other and concentrates. He slowly glides over to the end of the couch and peers at the Vox.

         The Not-Creator looks up at the Creator, “I was just checking a memo before I sent it.”

         The Creator’s brow furrows in confusion. “Pardon?”

         “You asked me what I was reading.”

         “No, I didn’t.”

         The Not-Creator frowns. He sits up. “Uh, well, I specifically just heard someone ask what I was reading so if it wasn’t you—”

         Signal trills brightly.

         The Vox yelps and falls back against the Creator. “Holy shit! You’re talking to me! Alastor, he’s talking to me!”

         Signal grins and preens under his Other’s attention.

         The Creator looks over at Shadow.

         Shadow gives him a smug, little wave.

         “Well, it’s certainly an amazing feat,” the Creator comments. “How does it sound?”

         The Vox has a hand on Signal’s head and rubs it affectionately. “What do you mean?”

         “Well, how is its volume? Too loud? Too soft? Can you understand what it’s saying?”

         Shadow snarls. His master didn’t appreciate that Signal was able to communicate to the Not-Creator perfectly.

         And Shadow wishes that he’d stop referring to Signal as an ‘it.’

         “He sounds fine, I guess? Not too loud. Not too soft. Oh, man this is so cool! Hey, do you have a name?”

         Shadow’s eyes glow with quiet fury as the Creator laughs at the absurdity of that question. “Vox, while I can appreciate your excitement, these creatures don’t have names.”

         “Oh, really?” the Not-Creator smirks. “Because he says his name is ‘Signal.’ Hello, Signal. Nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand. Signal takes it and shakes it.

         “Incredible,” the Creator whispers. He looks at Shadow again and his doppelganger can see the questions there. “You’ve been busy.”

         His desire to speak with his double was his own. I didn’t do much other than teach him some basics.

         The Creator harrumphs. He silently watches as the Vox and Signal converse. The Creator’s expression softens when he sees how happy the Vox is. “Well…good job.”

         I didn’t do it for you, Shadow snarls. I did it for Signal.

         The Creator seems surprised by the venom in his voice. His eyes narrow and his ever-present smile takes a dark, threatening edge.

         Shadow is more than happy to return the smile in kind.

         Vox and Signal don’t seem to notice the battle of wills happening near them.

         The Creator chuckles. “Well, this has been a delight, but I think we should be on our way. Vox? Aren’t we preparing to shoot the commercial for tomorrow? Should we go over the notes one last time? Perhaps get with Charlie for a rehearsal? Or,” the Creator smiles. “Perhaps we should get a little lunch first?”

         The Not-Creator stands. “I like all those suggestions, but I know Vesta and Briar would kill me if I didn’t eat first. Come on. Let’s grab some food, then we can track down the princess.”

         The two demons walk by Shadow. The Not-Creator gives Shadow a little wave. The Creator stops short. He clasps his hands behind his back and keeps his gaze forward, but he addresses Shadow when Vox is far enough away. “Listen here and listen well,” he says softly. “I’ve tolerated your obstinate behavior for this long because I was curious and mildly amused, but no longer. Watch yourself.”

         Shadow narrows his eyes and hisses.

         The Creator chuckles again and walks on.

         Are you okay? Signal asks as he moves a little closer.

         I’m…fine. Shadow bites out. He gnashes his teeth. He breathes deeply. Never mind. What would you like to do?

         Shouldn’t we follow them? Signal asks. I haven’t been with my Other all day.

         And you don’t need to! Shadow snaps. Why should we go with them? I shouldn’t be stuck with him and you shouldn’t be stuck with your Other!

         Signal’s shoulders sag. But I like my Other. I like being with him.

         Shadow snarls. They tether us. They trap us. Enslave us!

         Not mine, Signal protests. He’s my friend.

         He is not your friend. He is your Master! Your Owner! Your Creator!

         Signal stares. His eyes dim. He is not my Creator. You are my Creator.

         Shadow’s mouth falls open. I’m not like him.

         No, you’re not and my Other is not like him. Signal replies. He glides over to Shadow and takes his hand. We don’t have to go with them if you don’t want to.

         No, no. You’re right. Shadow sighs. Your Other isn’t like my Creator. I know. That's why I like him.

         Signal studies him. You like him?

         Yes. He’s kind to you. He respects you. He – he doesn’t call you an “it.” Shadow’s surprised how much that bothers him now. Pre-boon the use of the word just washed over him, but now…

         Now, he feels that his Creator continues to refer to him as an “it” because he doesn’t see him as anything other than an object or tool.

         Signal considers that. He nods. Let’s go. Perhaps what you really need is some time away from your Creator. Some space?

         Shadow nods. Yes, perhaps that’s what he needs. Some time away from his Creator.

         The shadow specters go and terrorize Sinners throughout the city, and it does help Shadow feel better. Being alone with Signal helps him feel better.

         Shadow picks up a demon by the neck and grins at her. The Sinner screams and tries to call for help. Shadow and Signal laugh before Shadow snaps her neck. I needed this, Shadow says as he tosses the body away. So simple but effective!

         Signal pushes away the demon he just killed. It’s nice to get away.

         It’s nice to get away and be with you, Shadow chirrs. He glides over to the other shadow so he can give him an affectionate nuzzle. Signal turns and nuzzles him back. Chase?

         Signal lets out an excited trill. Yes! Yes, please! Chase! Chase! Chase!

         Shadow laughs. Signal was always so full of energy after a fresh kill. Okay. I’ll give you to the count of three. Signal speeds off before Shadow even gets to two. He’s quite an agile shadow. Shadow licks his chops.

He loves a good game of chase.

He especially likes what happens after he catches Signal.

They both do.

Shadow glares at his master. The Creator speaks with the Feline Not-Creator behind the bar. The Feline Not-Creator looks especially irritated today. Something about something the Creator said to the Spider Not-Creator during yesterday’s rehearsal, Shadow isn’t sure. He wasn’t here when the incident happened (and he doesn’t care).

“Oh, Husker buck up,” The Creator laughs. “I was only providing Angel with a bit of criticism.”

“What you said wasn’t criticism! It was an insult!”

The Creator rolls his eyes. “How so?”

“How so? How so?! You told him if he wore that outfit for the commercial, we might as well advertise this place as Valentino 2.0!”

The Creator sighs. “Yes, fine. In hindsight, I can see how that could be construed as insulting, but I had his best intentions in mind. How about this? I’ll give your lover an apology gift.” He snaps his fingers in Shadow’s direction. “Bring me a paper and pen.”

Shadow narrows his eyes.

He doesn’t move.

The Creator’s shoulders tense. The Not-Creator looks between Shadow and the Creator. He seems to sense the brewing storm. “Uh…you know what? I’ll just tell Angie that you’re sorry about what you said.”

The Creator laughs. “No, no, no, Husker. I told you I was giving Angel Dust a gift, so I’m giving him a gift.” He gets off the barstool and walks over to stand in front of his doppelganger. The Feline Not-Creator shakes his head and pours himself a drink. “So, you’re still doing this, hmm?”

Shadow snarls, but says nothing.

“You know, I don’t think I’m asking for much. I’m simply asking for you to behave as you once did.”

Shadow smirks. We can never go back to before.

The Creator steps forward and jabs a finger in Shadow’s face. “Do not—don’t you dare besmirch Marin Mazzie in my presence!” He clears his throat and straightens his tie. “I will ask again. Go. Get. Me. A. Pen. And. Paper. Now!”

Shadow folds his arms.

The screeching of radio frequencies and the coppery scent of blood fills the air.

Signal pops up and hands the items to the Creator. Shadow’s master blinks. “My goodness! Thank you! What a sweet little thing you are!”

Signal trills happily at the compliment.

Shadow’s hackles rise. A growl bubbles in his throat. The Creator glances his way and looks amused. He proceeds to pat Signal on the head like a dog and if Shadow had blood it would be boiling. “Vox is so lucky to have you. You see,” he says, addressing his doppelganger. “It knows how to follow instructions. You could learn a thing or two.” The Creator strokes his chin. “Now that I think about it. Perhaps, I should just take this shadow as my own? Wouldn’t that be hilarious!”

Shadow’s eyes go wide. He surges forward and yanks Signal away. Go back to your double, he orders.

Signal flinches. I—

I’m not angry with you. Shadow clarifies. He glances at his Creator who watches the exchange with naked amusement. My Master and I just need to have a conversation.

Signal sinks through the floor, but not before shooting one last worried look at Shadow.

The Creator laughs. “My! The look on your face. What happened to your sense of humor?” He taps his chin. “Perhaps, I really should consider taking Vox’s shadow. It’s sweet-natured. It’s obedient. It would be a definite improvement. Perhaps…”

As he drones on, Shadow starts shaking with rage. Could the Creator take Signal away? Could he take him away from Shadow? They didn’t know how the boon worked. There was the possibility. A terrible, horrible possibility.

The Creator could take away my Signal. He could take him away. The thought is awful. It makes the shadow feel cold and empty. It wasn’t fair. The Creator could make limitless servants. He had the Vox Not-Creator. If he took Signal then Shadow would have nothing. He would be alone! The Creator didn’t need to take Signal. Signal was his! The Creator couldn’t have him. He couldn’t!

Shadow’s jaw stretches to an impossible length as he unleashes a roar that makes the bottles lined behind the bar rattle.

He lowers his head and charges.

A look of surprise flashes over the Creator’s face as Shadow collides with him and knocks flat. The Feline Not-Creator spits out his drink. “Jesus shit ! Alastor, are you okay?”

The Creator pushes Shadow away and climbs to his feet. He snaps his neck. “Well, well, well,” he hisses. “I suppose I knew this day was coming…” He begins to grow his antlers.

Shadow snarls. His antlers are always extended so he has a few seconds of a head start. He charges again, but this time the Creator is ready. He sidesteps and lowers his head just as Shadow corrects his course. Their antlers crash together.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” The Feline Not-Creator jumps over the bar and runs out of the room.

“Insolent creature!” the Creator snarls. “You refuse to obey! You refuse to listen! And now you’re attacking me? I am your Creator! I gave you life, you ungrateful wretch! When I find a way to do so, I will return you to the Void and never let you out again!”

You can’t have him! You can’t have him! You can’t have him! Shadow puts his hands on his master’s shoulders and attempts to force him to the floor. He’s mine! He screams through their bond. Not yours! You can’t! I won’t let you! I won’t let you!

The Creator pulls away. He stares at Shadow. Shadow makes an aborted attempt to claw at him, but he drops his arms to his side and stands there.

The Creator puts his arms around Shadow and brings his doppelganger close for a hug. “There, there,” he says. He chuckles. “Not such a funny joke after all, hmm?”

The Feline Not-Creator returns with the Short and Angry Not-Creator and the Not-Creator Who Sings and Smiles. “Alastor, what the hell is going on?” The Short and Angry Not-Creator yells as she brandishes her spear.

“Oh, nothing to worry about, Vagatha. The situation has righted itself.”

“Husk said your shadow was attacking you!”

The Creator places a soothing hand on the back of Shadow’s head. “Merely a misunderstanding. I crossed a line, and my shadow took offense. You of all people know how good I am at pushing buttons. It doesn’t matter. The moment’s passed. Everything is fine.”

“And you sure you’re okay,” The Not-Creator Who Sings and Smiles asks, worry evident on her face. “Cuz we can stay, if you’d like.”

The Creator gives them a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m fine. You can all go about your day. Nothing to see here. Shoo. Shoo!”

They file out of the room save for the Feline Not-Creator who watches the two of them warily before retaking his post.

The Creator sighs. “Let’s return to my room so we can speak with a little more privacy.”

They teleport to the Creator’s suite. “Have a seat,” he instructs. He pauses, then adds, “Please.”

Shadow sits and waits. His Creator goes to make himself a pot of coffee, a process that allows the doppelganger time to pull himself together.

What had he been thinking attacking the Creator like that? No, that was the problem. He hadn’t been thinking at all. The very idea of Signal of being taken away was enough to make Shadow panic. More so, when it was the Creator is threatening to do it!

The Creator takes a seat across from Shadow and sips from his coffee cup. “Now, shall we discuss what just happened?”

Shadow hangs his head and averts his gaze.

The Creator tuts. “Now, now. It’s obvious that we’ve been having some conflict as of late and it all came to head. Vox and I stress the importance of communication in our relationship. I think that we should do the same.”

I don’t want you to take Signal.

The Creator’s head tilts ever-so-slightly, and his eyes look off to the side, a tic that Shadow recognizes as him attempting to remember something.

The Vox’s shadow, Signal growls. That’s his name.

“Oh! Oh, yes! I remember now.” The Creator lies as easily as others breathe. He drinks a little more (another tic Shadow recognizes as him trying to hide embarrassment). “I was never going to take him. I was just trying to get a rise out of you, since you’ve made it no secret how much you desire Vox.”

I don’t desire Vox.

The Creator arches a brow.

Shadow rubs the back of his neck. I do, he admits. But I love Signal more.

“I see,” The Creator sets his cup down and leans a little closer (Shadow has his full attention now). “I had no idea. You love it.”

Him! Signal is not an “it!” I am not an “it!” Shadow snarls.

The Creator winces. “Yes, apologies. You love him. I had no idea.”

Really? We haven’t exactly been secretive about our relationship.

“Well, yes. I just assumed it was more physical than anything.” His master strokes his chin. “As physical as it can be between two shadow specters, I suppose.”

We manage just fine, Shadow says with a leer.

The Creator rolls his eyes. “Anyway,” he sighs. “I apologize for my earlier behavior. It was unkind.” He sips from his cup. “I also apologize for any disrespect you felt—no. That’s not right, is it? I apologize for my disrespect.”

It’s amazing how good something as small as an apology feels . I am sorry that I’ve been acting awful. I think that my new...awareness? He wasn’t sure if that was the right word, but he uses it anyway, Has opened my eyes to how dissatisfied I’ve been. I like when we cause mayhem. I like killing. I don’t like when you just treat me like I’m just a weapon or spy or something to fetch things.

“I see.”

I don’t like when you don’t treat me like a person. It hurts me. I hate it and by extension I hate you. You’re an asshole.

The Creator chuckles, “Yes, I have been told that.”

I’ve been an asshole too.

“Yes, well, as someone I love very much reminded me, you are my shadow. I would be more surprised if you weren’t an asshole.” The Creator grins.

Shadow laughs. The Creator studies him. “So, what are you called?”

Shadow lowers his gaze. I haven’t given myself a name yet.

“Oh. Would you like me to give you one?” When Shadow shakes his head, his master breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I wouldn’t have been able to on the fly. Would have most likely given you a name you resented. In any case, I’m sure that when you think of one it will be perfect. Now, I think you should go find Signal and assure him that everything is fine. He must be very worried.”

Shadow thanks his master and goes to find the other shadow.

His Creator is not perfect, but he’s trying and Shadow appreciates that more than his master realizes.

Chapter Text

Vox inhales deeply. “What a beautiful goddamned morning,” he sighs. “How are we feeling, guys?”

Briar steps up and stands to Vox’s left. “Everyone’s ready, boss.” He gives him the once over. “May I say, you’re especially chipper today.”

Vox grins. “I feel chipper. I feel happier. Safer. Back on top.”

Vesta stands at Vox’s right. “It’s because he’s got a certain handsome Radio Demon waiting for him back home.” She winks. “I gotta say, Alastor’s been really good for you. You’re getting sleep, eating actual food, and you’re happy.” The bat demoness takes a hold of the corner of Vox’s face between two fingers (as close to pinching his cheek as she can get). “It’s so fucking beautiful.”

Vox chuckles and gives her a playful shove. “Yeah, yeah. And how much money did you win, Briar?”

“A cool mil,” the horse demon grins.

Vesta scowls. “Fuck you both.”

“Hey, that’s what you get for not believing in me.” Vox snickers. He sighs. “Okay. Let’s get this over with. Vesta? Give me the thing so we can do the thing.”

Vesta hands him a megaphone. Vox clicks it on, wincing slightly at the feedback, before lifting it to his mouth. “Skuzzy, Skuzzy, Skuzzy. What’s the big plan here?  You knew this day was coming. You’re only delaying the inevitable, buddy.”

A Sinner Demon with the bulbous head of a fly pops out of his window. “Fuck you, Vox!” he screams. “You’ll never take this business from me!”

Vox sighs, heavily. He lifts the megaphone back to his mouth. “Skuzzo, we got the building surrounded. Most of your employees have already jumped ship. Anyone dumb enough to still be loyal to you is just going to give you a few extra minutes of life acting as meat shields. At most. Your investors want nothing to do with you. Your shares are in the toilet. It’s honestly amazing that you’ve kept the lights on as long as you have. I’m doing you a favor.”

Skuzzo pokes his head back out the window. “Eat my ass, Vox! I just had a bad quarter! It happens to everyone! I built SkuzzTV from the ground up! You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands!”

“Yeah, that’s the idea,” the Media Overlord quips before switching off the megaphone. He tosses it to Briar.

Vesta shakes her head. “This is a fucking disgrace,” she mutters. “What the fuck ever happened to losing with a little goddamned dignity?”

Vox shoots her a disapproving look. “Hey now! Skuzzy’s got real underdog energy going on. You never know! He could beat us!”

The Media Overlord and his P.A.s glance behind them where fully armed Sinners and Hellborn dressed in black armor emblazoned with the Vox Media logo, stand waiting.

The three of them burst out in mocking laughter.

Briar wipes away a tear. “Oh, he’s so fucked!”

 “Welp, we tried to give him an out.” Vox replies. He pops his neck. Vesta hands him a shotgun. “Let’s go put this fucker down.”

Alastor hums and picks up his candlestick phone. Vox, the technological wunderkind that he was, finagled it so that the deer demon could use it to call his cell. Texting was all well and good, but sometimes he just wanted to hear the other Overlord’s voice.

Also, Alastor got the sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t very good at texting…

The phone rings twice before Vox picks up. “Who is this?”

“Good day, Vox! It’s me, Alastor!”

“Oh shit, Alastor! Sorry! Your phone doesn’t register on the ID. Sorry. How are you?”

“I’m well, but I feel like I should be asking you the same question. Is that gunfire I hear?”

“Oh yeah. Just conducting a little merger with a reluctant party. Well, it’s less a merger and more a hostile takeover. Hold on. You think I don’t see you? I see everything, fucker!” There’s a sound of a brief firefight and a scream. “Woo! So, yeah. To what do I owe this little call? Not that I mind. Vesta, on your left! I always enjoy hearing from you.”

“Shameless flatterer.” Alastor chuckles. “I was just calling because we received an invite from Brother Haze and his group. We’ve been invited to a crawfish boil and fry up!”

“Brother Haze…” Alastor can hear the frown in the other Overlord’s voice. “I dunno, Alastor. The last time we hung out with those people, I got kinda…”

“He assures me that the gathering will be held in a properly ventilated area.”

“Oh, well in that case it sounds fun. Let me finish up here, swing by my tower for a quick shower and change of clothes and I’ll meet you at the hotel.”

“Splendid! Oh, I can’t wait. Do you need me to send you any help?”

“No need. I got more than enough guns. Plus, Signal’s here too. Say hi, Signal!” There’s an exuberant trill on the other line. “Signal says hi!”

“And a hello to you too, Signal. Well, I’ll leave you to your business acquisitions.”

“Yeah, okay. Hey, Alastor. Want me to bag you up some snacks? Not everybody’s using guns. Briar likes to rip off people’s limbs and I’m pretty sure Mandie’s a blade girl.”

“Ooh, yes please. I’ll make room in my fridge. Be safe, Vox.” Alastor’s smile softens. “I will see you later. I love you.”

“I love you too, Alastor. See you soon.”

“Oh my god,” Vesta coos. She has a demon in a headlock and is mid-gouging out his eyes as she stares misty-eyed at Vox. “That’s so fucking sweet. I think I’m going to cry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vox rolls his eyes. “How are we looking?”

“First floor’s all clear. Squads A through C just called in and they’re clearing out the rest.” Vesta claws out the demon’s eyes and leaves him thrashing blindly on the floor.

“Amazing,” Vox growls. He reloads his shells. “I guess I should say hello to Skuzzo. Signal, you wanna come with?”

His shadow curls around him and nods.

Vesta stares. “So, are you ever going to tell me how your fucking shadow came to life?”

Vox laughs as Signal hugs him. “Let’s just say he was a gift from Alastor.”

“Ah. Well, tell him that most people start with flowers. Maybe one of those things of chocolate. Just ya know, for future reference.”

The TV-headed demon scoffs. “I can buy my own flowers and chocolate. I can’t make a shadow guardian.”

“Guys,” Briar’s voice rings out over the comms. “Skuzzo’s pulling a runner.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Vox groans. “Where’d you see him last?”

“Elevators.”

“Right.” Vox sighs and puts a hand on the nearest wall. He patches into the building’s security cameras. “Where are you Skuzzy?” Ones and zeroes march across the Media Overlord’s face.

Where—

He can see Briar bashing in the skulls of some hapless flunkies too dumb to flee the building.

He can see Skuzzo’s secretary locked in the bathroom, phone to her ear as she bids a tearful goodbye to whoever she’s talking to as a member of Squad B uses a battering ram to knock down the door.

Are—

There’s a demon raiding the supply closet, stuffing his pockets with pens and hi-lighters. He makes brief eye contact with an approaching member of Squad A as he shoves an entire ream of copy paper down the front of his pants. The Squad A demon lowers their gun to take in the scene. The two demons exchange a nod before the Squad A demon keeps moving.

He sees an elderly Sinner demon in the cafeteria. She sits at a table, mountains of packaged sandwiches, fruit cups, and snack cakes next to her. She appears unbothered by the gunfire and screams, seemingly more interested in eating as much stolen food as possible before leaving.

You?

There.

Running down the stairs toward the parking garage is Skuzzo, former head of SkuzzTV, fleeing for his fucking life.

Vox laughs softly. His voice rings out over the building’s intercom system. “I see you, Skuzzy.”

The fly demon yelps and almost falls ass over feet down the rest of the stairs. “Leave me alone!” he whimpers.

“I’ll leave you alone once I get your signature, the keys, and your head. In that order.” Wires spring from Vox’s back and wrap around his legs and arms. He uses them to barrel full speed through the halls. “Outta my way!”

Vox hops over the rail of the stairs and lands in front of Skuzzo just as he reaches the last step. “So close, Skuzzy,” the Media Overlord tsks.

“How about you just let me go, Vox? I don’t wanna have to fight you.” Skuzzo sneers. “Everyone knows you’ve gone soft. You have to rely on the Radio Demon to fight your battles now.” There’s an anger in the tech demon’s eyes that makes the fly demon smirk. Skuzzo snarls and feints to the left. 

Vox falls for it and finds a sharp, black barb jammed into his side. The TV-headed demon grunts from pain. He meets Skuzzo’s compact eyes before yanking out the barb. He tosses it aside with a dismissive snort. “What? You think this is the first time I’ve ever been stabbed?” Vox lets out a sharp bark of laughter. “Skuzzy, if you think that Alastor’s the only one in the relationship with teeth then you’re dumber than you look!” He knees the other demon in the balls. He shoves Skuzzo to the floor, straddles him, and begins beating the everliving snot out of him. Vox’s face shows no emotion as he sends teeth and blood flying.

With a burst of energy, the demon didn’t know he had, Skuzzo shoves Vox off balance and scrambles to his feet. “Stay back!” Skuzzo says through swollen, bleeding lips. “Stay away from me!” The fly demon whips around and tries to go back the way he came only to find his way blocked by Signal. Skuzzo lets out a cry and falls back on his ass as he stares up at the shadow specter with naked fright. “W-w-w-what?”

“W-w-w-what,” Vox mocks. He pulls out a rolled stack of papers and a  pen. “Sign, dumbass.”

Skuzzo begins to weep. “This isn’t fair,” he whines.

Vox backhands him. “Shut the fuck up and sign. I’m losing my patience.”

With a petulant expression more appropriate for a toddler than a fully grown demon, Skuzzo signs on the dotted line. Vox looks it over then gives a satisfied nod. “Keys to the building. Now.”

The fly demon hands them over.

Vox tucks them into his pocket. He reaches into his coat and pulls out a pistol. “That concludes our business, Skuzzo. Now fuck off.” He fires two bullets between the other demon’s eyes. He patches back into the intercoms, “Attention Vox Media employees, the merger has been successfully completed. Pat yourselves on the back for a job well-done. Bring any still-living SkuzzTV employees to the lobby. I wanna have a chat with them.” Vox spares a glance at the rapidly cooling corpse of Skuzzo and spits. “Let’s go, Signal.”

Vox makes his way to the lobby and glances at the assorted demons huddled together on the floor. The elderly demoness from the cafeteria, the supply closet looter, and the quietly weeping secretary are amongst the group. Vox focuses on the secretary and gives her a folded pocket square. “Hey, now,” he says, keeping his voice low and gentle. “I know today has been super traumatic and I wish that you hadn’t had to experience that. Unfortunately, your former boss didn’t want to do the right thing and you people had to suffer. Sucks, right? I’m here to offer you good folks a choice. Sign on with Vox Media and I put you on my payroll. You get a nice check, have a little job security, and you get to keep breathing. Or you can say no and well…” The Media Overlord gives a lazy glance to his employees. The armored demons cock their weapons. “Let’s just say that you’ll be joining your former employer real quick.” Vox smiles. “Choose wisely.”

Ten minutes later, Vox climbs into the back of the car. Vesta climbs into the front passenger seat and Briar gets behind the wheel. “Not a bad day,” Vox comments as he takes out his phone.

“I’ve already got the paperwork started on our new hires,” Vesta says. She taps on her phone. “I’ve already hired the renovators and they’re coming within the week to fix the building. I’ll have them send you the invoice.”

Vox gives an approving nod. “Excellent. What’s your feel on the survivors?”

“Skyla wants to live more than anything,” Briar says.

“Who?”

“Weepy secretary,” the horse demon clarifies. “She’s got a wife and daughter. She’ll be motivated to stay alive. Rozma—cafeteria thief told me that a week before we showed, Skuzzo stopped paying them. Kept saying it was a ‘bank error’ or some shit. She’s on board as long as we can promise a steady check.”

“Which we can.”

Briar nods. “Last is Rapport—supply closet looter. Can’t get a feel for him. Might wanna have someone keep an eye on him.”

Vox nods, makes a note of it on his phone. “We’ll call it a ‘probationary period.’ Maybe we can find some to mentor him? What did he do before?”

“Mail room.”

Mail room? Jesus. “Okay. Okay. Put him with Staze. She can get him some basic training as a gaffer on one of the sets. Keep him busy. Give him a little taste of the glitz and glam.” Vox thinks. “Put him on the set of Boom or Bust. That way, if we get a whiff of disloyalty...well, accidents happen.”

Vesta snorts. “Especially on Boom or Bust,” she grins. “Where do you want us to drop you off, boss?”

“My tower. I gotta get ready. Wash Skuzzo’s stink off me. I’ll call a cab when I head to the hotel.”

Vesta and Briar drop him off. “Have fun, Vox,” Vesta calls and waves. “Tell Alastor I said hi!”

Vox sighs and smiles. A shower sounds so nice. “Signal, want me to put on the TV while I shower? Give you something to watch?”

His shadow nods enthusiastically.

“Awesome.”

Vox pulls up to Hazbin Hotel and knocks on the door before just walking inside. The front door’s hardly locked anyway, and Husk is always at the Concierge desk/bar.

Except for today apparently. Husk’s post is empty and instead Alastor sits on a lobby couch, humming to himself. The deer demon gets to his feet. “Good day, Vox. My shadow alerted me to your arrival the second you pulled up.”

Vox laughs. “Well, damn. And here I was wanting to surprise you.”

Alastor says nothing. He looks the other Overlord over. Vox grins and spreads his arms, thinking the Radio Demon’s admiring his outfit. He’s wearing a pair of dark slacks and a teal polo shirt. Vox hisses with surprise when Alastor teleports in front of him. “A-Al?”

Alastor leans close, pushing Vox back against the wall. The TV demon looks around, shocked when a pair of shadowy hands spring out of the walls and restrain his arms above his head. Alastor’s shadow purrs in his ear. “Al? Alastor! What the fuck?” He starts to squirm.

Alastor levels a cool gaze at the other demon. “You’re favoring your left side.”

Fuck.

Vox stops moving. “It’s not a big deal,” he protests.

Alastor harrumphs before dropping to his knees. He pulls up the right side of Vox’s shirt and stares at the wound dressing. He places a hand on top of it and slowly raises his eyes to meet Vox’s.

“What happened?” The deer demon snarls.

Vox tries to blow it off. “Just a little incident during the merger. No big deal. I’m fine, really.”

“Oh, Vox! I thought I heard your voi—oh. Oh my! Um.”

Alastor looks over his shoulder and sees Charlie standing there. The princess’s eyes are as wide as saucers and her face is a vivid shade of pink. Niffty stands next to her. The maid’s mouth forms a round O of surprise as she scribbles furiously in a notebook.

“Um,” Charlie says. She doesn’t seem to know where to look. “While I’m happy you two have made your feelings known, I think that maybe you should keep certain things in the bedroom.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Niffty shouts. Her eye gleams. “Do what you want where you want!”

         Alastor sighs and turns his attention back to Vox. “Vox is injured.”

         “No,” Vox protests. “I’m not. I was just stabbed.”

         “You were stabbed,” Alastor repeats, voice cold with fury.

         “You were stabbed,” Charlie repeats, voice shrill with panic. “Oh! Oh man! Okay! I know where the first aid kit is! I’ll be right back! Try not to pass out! I just gotta – I – You! Wait here!” Charlie’s arms flail as she sprints from the room.

         Alastor sighs again. “How did this happen,” he asks Vox.

         The Media Overlord looks askance. “I got sloppy,” he admits. “Guy goaded me and I fell for it, but it’s honestly not serious. This isn’t my first stabbing, Alastor. I checked the wound and cleaned it. No necrosis, no sign of poison injection, and no larvae. It was just a final ‘Fuck you’ from a guy who knew he was fucked.”

         The deer demon nods, but Vox can see something’s still bothering him. “What?”

         “If I hadn’t figured it out, were you going to tell me you were hurt?”

         Vox can hear the hurt hiding just beneath that question. “No,” he says softly. “But only because I was embarrassed. Like I said, the guy goaded me and I fell for it. I went in cocky and paid the price. Luckily, it wasn’t serious.”

         Alastor nods. “And the demon who did this?”

         “Dead.”

         “Good.” Vox jumps when he feels the sharp sting of teeth just above his stab wound. Alastor licks the blood away and gives the bite a gentle kiss. “I’m the only one who gets the privilege of making you bleed.”

         “Holy fuck, Alastor,” Vox breathes. Alastor’s shadow runs his tongue along the side of his face. “You know, for a guy who doesn’t fuck, you sure know some moves.”

         Alastor laughs. He gets to his feet. “Vox, I’ve been around long enough to perfect my art.” He gives the Media Overlord a dark, predatory look. “Sure, physical stimulation is important, but it pales in comparison to the right tone. Why, with the right words and inflection, I’ve convinced many people to follow me to their damnation.” He leans in until he’s a hair’s breadth from Vox’s face. He can feel the other Overlord’s thundering heartbeat. “With the right honeyed words, you can tell someone to their face that you’ll be their undoing and they’ll still follow you…every…time.” Alastor tilts his head as if he’s going in for a kiss. Vox closes his eyes in anticipation. It never comes. Alastor pulls back and smirks. “Remind me to tell you about the time I seduced a nun.”

         Vox gapes at him. “You’re kidding! You really seduced a nun?”

         “Oh, yes.” Alastor grins and looks smug. “And a Mother Superior at that. Poor woman. All those years in service of the Lord and I got her to leave it just like that.” He snaps his fingers.

         Vox can believe it. “You’re an evil man, Radio Demon.” He purrs.

         This time Alastor does kiss him. “And don’t you forget it.” He gives Vox another kiss and murmurs against his mouth. “If I wasn’t afraid of us being late, I’d take you upstairs and leave you at the mercy of the tentacles.”

         Vox shivers. “Fuck, Alastor,” he moans. “I—holy shit. Niffty, are you okay?”

         Alastor whips around. “Oh, dear. My sincerest apologies, Niffty. I forgot you were here!” He takes in his small thrall’s sorry state. The maid vibrates so hard she’s a literal blur. Alastor can hear her trying to breathe, but instead it comes out in sharp gasps. He manifests a paper bag and walks it over to her. “Breathe in this. That’s it. In and out.”

         “Alastor, is your shadow going to let me go? Alastor! Alastor, he’s going for my pants!”

         “One moment, Vox. I need to see to Niffty.” Alastor places a hand on the maid’s head in an attempt to either lessen or stop her vibrating completely. All he manages to do is feel the vibration travel from his hand and up his arm. “Huh. Well, that didn’t work.”

         Alastor’s shadow trills as he tries to unbuckle Vox’s belt. Signal peels himself from the floor and hisses. Vox breathes a sigh of relief. “Never mind, Signal’s here. I’m good.” The TV demon watches as the two shadows begin to converse. Vox’s brows knit as he watches them. The TV-headed demon knows that when Signal isn’t speaking with him directly, Vox can’t understand him.

         The shadows turn to look at him.

         Vox breaks out in a cold sweat. His nerves only increase when Alastor’s shadow begins to chatter at him despite knowing that Vox can’t understand. Doesn’t matter, Signal is more than happy to translate.

         Vox can feel his face overheating. “Hey, Alastor? M-maybe we should go? W-we—” He yelps when Alastor’s shadow punctuates something filthy he said with a bite to Vox’s neck. “Alastor!”

         Unfortunately, the deer demon’s attention is still on his tiny thrall. Niffty breathes so heavily into the bag that it pops before passing out completely. Alastor catches her before she hits the floor. Charlie takes that moment to rejoin them, but she’s too busy digging around in a first aid kit to notice immediately. “Okay, I found this buried in a hallway closet, but I think the stuff’s still good. Does antiseptic expire? I don’t—oooohh my God what happened to Niffty?! I was only gone for two minutes!”

         “You’re back! Wonderful! You can take care of Niffty. I’m afraid she’s been overstimulated. Give her a glass of water and put a cool towel against her forehead.” Alastor transfers Niffty to Charlie, turns to leave, and sees what the two shadows have been doing while his attention was elsewhere. “Oh no, you don’t,” he chastises. “Release him this very moment!”

         His shadow lets out a displeased hiss, but does as he’s told. He gently sets Vox onto the floor and gives the Overlord an almost apologetic lick on his cheek before returning to Alastor’s side. Alastor gives him another disapproving shake of his head. He turns to his lover who has smoothed and re-tucked his shirt. “Ready to go?”

         “Um, yeah. Totally. Let’s just go.” Vox won’t meet Alastor’s eyes.

         Alastor laughs and claps a hand on Vox’s shoulder. “No need to be embarrassed,” he says once they’re out of the hotel. “My shadow’s made it no small secret how much he wants you.”

         “Well, yeah,” Vox mutters. He looks at his feet and adds, “I just wasn’t expecting Signal to be on board.”

         Alastor blinks. That was news. “Well, your shadow has always been the curious sort. Maybe he sees this as another way to learn?”

         “Alastor, he was translating what your shadow wanted to do to me! Without so much as a flinch!”

         “Hm,” the two of them turn down a street toward the direction of the seemingly abandoned sector of the pentagram. “How do you think that would work? Do you think they’re able to have carnal relations with a non-shadow?”

         Vox’s face glitches and sparks. He stops in his tracks and attempts to settle down. Alastor waits for him like the good boyfriend he is. “How can you be so nonchalant about our shadows wanting to fuck me?”

         “I’m just expressing a mild curiosity. An interest in the mechanics. Also, we don’t know if Signal wants to fuck you. He might just want to watch. Or act as the instrument to keep you restrained to the bed.”

         “Alastor, that’s not—do you not hear what you’re saying?”

         The Radio Demon shrugs. “Come now. Out of the two of us, how are you the one who’s more squeamish about this topic?”

         “Because,” Vox splutters. “It’s weird! Our two living shadows want to fuck me. It’s not an everyday occurrence. Even down here! And aren’t you upset?”

         “Do you want me to be?”

         Vox thinks about it. “I don’t know,” he admits. He rubs the side of his head.

         Alastor studies him. “Are you not interested? My shadow’s contrariness aside, he doesn’t seem the type to force himself on another if they express their disinterest. Well, excluding the time he pretended he was going to grope you, but that was just to get a rise out of me.”

         Vox says nothing. Alastor assumes the topic has been dropped, but then the TV Demon quietly asks, “It doesn’t bother you even a little?”

         “It bothered me at first,” Alastor admits. “Because he seemed intent on stealing you from me. I’m not even sure why he wanted you and I’m sure neither is he.” At Vox’s affronted look, Alastor clarifies, “I simply mean I wasn’t sure if he wants you because he finds you desirable or if he wants you because you’re mine and he wants to take something from me.”

         “Jesus, Al. That’s fucked up.”

         Alastor shrugs. “Our relationship is on the mend and we’re doing much better than before.”

         Vox gives the Radio Demon a half smile. “Yeah, I’ve noticed that he’s stopping waking you with a faceful of cold water.”

         Alastor nods. He strokes his chin. “Would you like me to be honest?”

         “Of course.”

         “I confess, I might find myself a little…curious to see what you look like in the throes of passion with my doppelganger. The tentacles do such a good job, but I would like to see how you react to…other stimulation.” Alastor lowers his voice to a throaty purr. “My shadow’s desire for you will sate my curiosity. Oh, look! I believe we’re headed in the right direction.”

         Vox narrows his eyes at Alastor before turning to look where he’s pointing. There’s a trail of smoke rising further way in the innermost section of buildings. “Ok, we’ll table this discussion for now, but don’t think we’re not coming back to it.” Because honestly, how did Alastor expect to just drop a bomb like, “I’m super curious to see my shadow fuck my lover” and not expect Vox to have follow-up questions?

         Alastor sees that the TV Demon still wears a cloudy expression. He takes hold of Vox’s arm and forces him to stop. “Something is still bothering you. Talk to me,” he urges.

         “It’s just…” Vox looks at his feet. “I feel weird about the shadow thing. It feels like I’m being unfaithful.”

         Alastor tilts his head. “How so,” he asks.

         “Well, it would be having sex with someone who isn’t you.”

         “You already do that,” Alastor reminds him. They begin walking once more. “The tentacles, remember?”

         “Yeah, but I wasn’t counting them. The shadows feel different. They look like us and have personalities. They’re people.”

         Alastor hums at that. Vox continues, “When I was with Val, he used to fuck other people. He told me his image didn’t allow for monogamy.” Vox sneers for a half second before his face crumples. “After a breakup, he’d send pics and videos of him fucking other people to upset me. If I hook up with the shadows, doesn’t that make me a hypocrite?”

         Alastor shakes his head, disbelieving. “Vox, I’m fully aware and actively encouraging you to participate in this tryst with the shadows. You wouldn’t be cheating on me. Hell, I’d be right there in the room, watching to ensure your full enjoyment and safety. The fact that you’re comparing yourself to Valentino is ridiculous!” Alastor’s voice continues to rise the more upset he becomes, but he’s unable to stop it.  “He sent you a picture of himself getting fellated by two women because you weren’t responding to his texts fast enough! That is not the same!”

         Vox winces. “I know! I know,” he says. “I mean, I know logically it’s completely different. Of course, I know! But there’s still that part in my brain that says what I’m doing is just as bad as what Valentino did to me. And before you say anything, yes, I know that doesn’t make any sense either. I know all of that, but I still can’t make my brain shut up about it!” His shoulders slump.

         Alastor bites back a growl. It was amazing that even when Valentino wasn’t present, he still managed to find a way to cause Vox to suffer. “I…” Alastor stops. “I’m afraid this is out of my wheelhouse,” he admits, reluctantly. “Perhaps when we get back, Vagatha and Charlie can…recommend someone better equipped.”

         Vox lets out an amused snort. “Alastor, are you suggesting I go to therapy?” Vox grins. He shrugs. “What the Hell? It couldn’t hurt. God, knows I’m fucked up enough. Although to be fair, who in Hell isn’t?”

         “I seem to be doing okay!”

         Vox laughs and Alastor’s spirits lift. The deer demon squints at the horizon. There was no way to tell how far away the smoke was, but he felt like they were getting closer. He takes Vox’s hand in his, slotting their fingers. “If you don’t want to do anything with the shadows, that’s fine,” Alastor assures him. “I don’t want you doing anything you’re not a hundred percent comfortable with.”

         Vox shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I’m…” he says, then trails off. “Okay, you got me. I’m curious too. I do wanna see what it feels like and what they can do. I just didn’t want to do it if it meant hurting you.”

         “Vox,” Alastor sighs. He raises the other demon’s hand to his lips so he can kiss Vox’s knuckles. “I’m made of sterner stuff, but I appreciate you considering my feelings. Hear that?” Alastor looks down at his feet. “Vox has expressed interest. How about that?”

         His shadow raises his head off the asphalt and turns to look at Vox. He gives the Media Overlord a wink before returning to his original state.

         “We’ll have to set up rules and boundaries,” Alastor comments to Vox. “Otherwise, he might never leave you alone.”

         The two Overlords walk until they come to the ruins of a building. The building looks as if it was once a stadium, but some event has reduced one of the walls to rubble. The name of the stadium once above the giant arch of a door is just as broken as the wall. Only a giant letter ‘A’ remains, the rest of the letters and the stadium’s name lost to time. Faded posters advertising Queen Lilith’s concerts and other events stick to remaining walls amid a smattering of half-hearted graffiti and carvings. Before the archway that serves as an entrance are two statues of the King and Queen of Hell. The stone sentinels stand before the stadium, smiling down at Vox and Alastor in welcome.

         “What the fuck is this place,” Vox asks in a whisper. He stares at the statues. “And I don’t just mean this place,” he points at the stadium. “I mean, the whole” he gestures around them. “I’ve never seen any part of the Pentagram so fucking abandoned. Turf war or no.”

         Alastor agrees. It’s strange. Besides Brother Haze and his congregants, the Radio Demon gets the feeling that no one lives here. The entirety of the neighborhood feels desolated.

 Run down.

Abandoned.

         What happened here?

         “Perhaps, King Lucifer keeps this section empty for a reason?” Alastor suggests as he looks around. The buildings are in relatively good shape. No worse for wear than any other building in Pentagram City. Yet they sat empty. Empty despite the growing need for space as more Sinners fell into Pride every day. “Perhaps it has to do with Haze and the others? They did say that Lucifer didn’t want them getting too much attention. Maybe he figured the best way for people not to know about Haze would be to keep him and his little family isolated.”

         Vox looks around at the empty streets. “I guess,” he mutters. “But I get the feeling they don’t move, just their door. So, what? All these buildings are just sitting empty for no reason? It’s fucking weird.” The Media Overlord frowns.

         Alastor studies him. The TV Demon seems…agitated and he makes comment of it.

         “This place freaks me out,” Vox says through gritted teeth. “Alastor, I can’t see here.” The Radio Demon gives him a confused look, so Vox clarifies, “There are no cameras. No, tech I can use. I’m functionally blind and deaf here and it makes no sense. These people must have some sort of tech. I may have been blazed out of my gourd last time, but I distinctly remember the taco truck lady had a phone.” He points and Alastor spots Tyreza’s Tacos parked beside the ruined wall. “I can’t see her phone. I can’t hear her. I can’t feel its data. This place is a goddamned dead zone!” Vox looks around wild-eyed and starts hyperventilating. “I’m cut off here. I don’t—I’m not supposed to be—Alastor, I can’t see! I’m always supposed to see!”

         Alastor puts his hands on Vox’s shoulders. “Shh,” he whispers. “Deep breaths, Vox. Everything will be fine. We’re not in any danger.” He embraces the other demon tightly. He had no idea Vox would have such an adverse reaction to this area. If he’s being honest, the stillness and silence of the area puts him on edge as well.

         This entire area seemed…

         Muted?

         Even though they walked here, the sounds of the city proper seemed further away. Was there a barrier? Some sort of magical influence?

         Alastor closes his eyes and softly hums a few bars of the chorus of “Not While I’m Around” until both he and Vox are calmed. “There now. No more of that. We are safe. Brother Haze and his people don’t want to hurt us. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for…this. We have only but to ask. How do you feel?”

         Vox inhales. “Better,” he says with a nod. “A little better. I’m still shaky, but I can put on a good face. Let’s just go. Maybe being around other people will distract me.”

         “That’s the spirit,” Alastor tells him. “Right. Let’s go.” Together the two of them walk between the statues of Lucifer and Lilith and through the arched entrance. “Are we early?” Alastor whispers. “I thought the party would be in full swing by now.”

         Vox doesn’t answer. He’s holding Alastor’s hand while his head swivels this way and that, keeping an eye out for anything strange – well, stranger. The place is so quiet that the sound of their footsteps on the concrete floors echo. His grip tightens when they pass an abandoned concession stand. Vox comes to a halt. “Alastor,” he pulls at the deer demon’s arm. “Alastor!”

         Alastor pauses mid-sentence at the sound of Vox’s cry of distress. He turns to look where the Media Overlord stares. “Oh.”

         There are bodies. Seven perfectly preserved bodies standing in a line in front of the concession, the faces mummified with age. A demon dressed in a work uniform stands behind the register, as preserved as the rest. What was this? Was this the work of the angels? No. This didn’t seem like their style. They were more hack, slash, and incinerate. These demons looked like death had caught them unaware. So unaware that they had died where they stood.

         Alastor shakes his head. He urges Vox forward. The two Overlords walk in silence as they make their way further through the stadium. Alastor assumes that wherever the Trio are having their party, it’s probably on the field or stage. Alastor glances about. More corpses stand or sit or lean as they go. One demon looks like she’d been in the middle of writing something for the demon standing across from her. She leans over a table, forever frozen in mid-pen stroke while her companion stands with his mouth open in eternal silent laughter.

         “Really starting to wish they’d picked another place for this party,” Vox mutters.

         “I don’t think they get much of a choice where their door lands.” Alastor replies. He’s trying not to focus on a group of children standing grouped together as they pose for the adult taking their picture.

         “I suppose not.”

         They both brighten at the sight of another opening and a hint of grass. “We made it,” Alastor breathes a relieved sigh. “Uh, not that I was worried or anything.”

         “Oh, yeah,” Vox nods quickly. “Neither was I.”

         They pause on the threshold of the field, staring mutely at the sight before them.

         They’ve found the party.

         Sensatia dances with a small group of their followers. The mushroom demon’s flowing dress spins around her. The other demons’ heads bob and dip as they dance. Their arms wave above their heads. Brother Haze sits in a circle among others, his head thrown back as he laughs wildly at something a demon wearing a beaded suede vest tells him.

         There’s no music.

         There’s no sound.

         “Are you sure there’s no drugs at this party?” Vox asks Alastor from out of the corner of his mouth.

         Mzimu pokes his head around the corner.

         Alastor lets out a bark of nervous laughter. “Ah, Mzimu! Apologies for our tardiness! I hope we’re not too late, but we didn’t know your exact location. Luckily, we saw Haze’s smoke trail and were able to follow it here.”

         Mzimu blinks. He points at his ear, then shakes his head. He walks over to stand before them, kneels and points at something at the bottom of the door frame.

         Alastor and Vox kneel as well and peer at where the demon points.

         It’s a picture of the right side of a jaguar's face. It glows bright against the stone.

         Mzimu stands and beckons for them to move forward. As soon as they step through the door, the sound returns. The big fellow – Cleave, was it? – strums on a guitar as a demoness with her tentacles styled into pigtails plays a pair of round drums, and a four-armed demon shakes a tambourine.

         “Sorry about that,” Mzimu says. He’s changed out of his pseudo-military gear into a pair of black slacks and a strange African print tunic with a scoop neck. “We have to keep the music and noise non-existent or else people get curious. That’s where I come in.”

         “Brilliant,” Alastor crows. “A practical use of shielding magic, if I’ve ever seen one!”

         That gets a tiny smile from Mzimu. “Thanks,” he says. “I try my best. God knows what Lucifer would do to us if some random person showed up, attracted by the sound of Cleave’s cover of California Dreamin’.”

         “You aren’t worried about the smoke?” Vox nods at Brother Haze.

         Mzimu shakes his head. “Nah. Most demons won’t come running if they see smoke unless it’s accompanied with the sound of screams and gunfire. We’re good on that front.” He leads them over to where Brother Haze sits. “Look who’s here.”

         Brother Haze’s smile stretches wide. “Alastor, my man! You made it! And you brought a friend!” He turns to Vox. “Nice to see you again, brother. How you feeling?”

         “I’m…good.” Vox gives the smoke demon a shaky smile. “Thanks for having me.”

         “Hey, any friend of Alastor’s is a friend of mine. Or,” Brother Haze grins. “Should I say more than a friend?”

         Alastor chuckles. “Ah! You caught my last show, I take it?”

         “Oh, we did. It was all Mzimu would talk about for days.”

         The jaguar demon’s non-furred face reddens. “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” he grumbles. “I was just surprised.”

         Haze laughs and throws an arm around his husband, pulling him into a tight hug. “Oh, don’t be that way. No need to be embarrassed. You probably can’t tell it from his whole…everything, but Mzimu’s a romantic.”

         “He’s a liar!” Mzimu snaps. “A filthy liar! My heart’s as cold as stone!”

         Brother Haze snickers and gives the other demon a kiss on the furry cheek before having mercy and releasing his hold on Mzimu. The other demon storms off. “Don’t get your dashiki in a twist,” Haze calls after him. “He’s so sensitive.” He lowers his shades so they can see his wink. “Well, let’s get you folks somewhere to sit and drink. Sensatia! Sensatia, look who made it!”

         The mushroom demon lifts the brim of her cap and lets out an excited squeal when she sees Alastor. She runs over to them, her arms spread wide, and a trail of tiny mushrooms sprouting up in her wake. “Alastor! You made it!” She wraps the deer demon in a hug, which he allows to happen. She pulls away and gently plucks a couple of mushrooms that transferred over from their contact. “Thank you for joining us on this the loveliest of days.” She turns to Vox. “Oh! And you brought your new love! Welcome, welcome! Have the energies of the universe aligned in an auspicious manner for you?”

         Vox’s face scrunches. His eyes cut to the side for a moment and a frozen smile graces his face. “Sure?”

         “Wonderful!” Sensatia says, clapping her hands. “Well, welcome to our little party! Only good vibes and good food today. Although, if you’re wanting to partake…” she reaches out a cupped hand.

         Brother Haze sighs, “Sensatia.”

         She pulls her hand away. Sensatia shrugs. “I just wanted to ask. A good hostess always shares.”

         “And you know that’s one of the things I love about you,” Brother Haze tells her. He bends over and pushes up the brim of her cap, so he can kiss her on the cheek. “But I think our guests would better be able to enjoy the food if they weren’t higher than a giraffe on stilts. Don’t you agree?”

         Sensatia sighs. “I suppose,” she admits in a begrudging tone. Her eyes brighten. “Ooh, Cleave’s playing my song!” She runs back over to the group of dancers and begins to sway once more.

         “Lovely woman,” Alastor says fondly.

         “That she is,” Haze says, smiling after her. He turns his attention to the Radio Demon. “Took me up on my offer to just bring your appetite?”

         “Hardly,” Alastor snorts. With a wiggle of his fingers, he summons a small portal at his side and reaches into it like he’s rummaging through a sack. He pulls out several packages of paper plates, napkins, and cups. Haze calls for a member of his group to take them to the tables near the food. “I also have this.” He reaches back into the portal and pulls out a ceramic dish of banana pudding with a lightly browned meringue peaks. “I didn’t want to risk the others knowing about this. I doubt it would have survived the trip to the door. Why, I even had to make a decoy!” The others hadn’t touched the decoy at first. When they learned Alastor had been the one to make it, the other Hazbin Hotel residents were reluctant to taste it. They assumed it was poisoned. Or tainted. Or filled with sedatives that would allow him to do horrible things to them. They finally realized it was safe after Alastor helped himself to a bowl.

         “Well, that’s the prettiest banana pudding I’ve ever seen. Mzimu! Look! Alastor brought this gorgeous banana pudding. Come see! Mzimu? Mzimu, don’t!" Brother Haze shakes his head as he watches his husband appear suddenly, take the dish from Alastor, and walk away. “Mzimu, that’s for sharing! Ah, hell.”

         Alastor taps Haze’s shoulder. He reaches into the portal and pulls out a second slightly bigger pudding. “I had an uncle who was the same way with sweet potato pie,” he chuckles.

         “Alastor, you never cease to amaze me. Let me hand that off to somebody trustworthy. Jintilla, a moment of your time please.” A Sinner demoness walks up. She wears a men’s combat jacket several sizes too big but using a wide leather belt she’s turned it into a dress. Brightly colored chunky bracelets hang on all four of her wrists. Brother Haze puts the banana pudding in her upper two arms. “Make sure that gets to the dessert table without Mzimu seeing it.” When Jintilla leaves, Brother Haze turns back to Alastor and Vox. “Gynger and Des’nique are still battering up the catfish. His Majesty dropped off quite the amount. More than we were expecting. Which reminds me. Let us know if you want to take a plate or two home. We will not say no.” Haze laughs again. He glances at Vox who has been silent during this exchange. His reflective shades focus on the TV Demon’s face. “How about we get you two a drink?” He leads them over to what Alastor can only describe as a garbage can because that’s exactly what it is. A large, black garbage can. “It’s clean.” He assures them. “Had one of congregants go buy it new. How’s it going, Slips?”

         Slips, a six-armed demon wearing a bright blue suit and chunky framed glass blinks his three sets of eyes at Brother Haze and pauses in his stirring. He smiles showing a double row of sharp teeth. “Oh, it’s good to go, Brother Haze,” he rasps, sounding like a man who started smoking when he was three. “How many glasses?”

         “Three. One for me and each of my guests.”

         Slips uses his upper hands to ladle up whatever he’s been stirring into cups held in his lower hands. He hands them to their designated recipients. “Enjoy.”

         “What is it?” Vox asks.

         Alastor peers down into his cup. He can see chunks of diced fruit swimming around a greenish blue (bluish-green?) concoction. He sniffs the cup and rears back his head.

         There was so much alcohol in whatever this was.

         Brother Haze grins at his reaction. “What’s the matter, Radio Demon? Never had Swamp Water Jungle Juice?” He takes a swig from his cup and lets out a loud whoop. “Hot damn! Slips, you never cease to amaze me. Top me off.” He holds out his cup and lets the other demon refill the amount he just drank. “Thank you.”

         Alastor looks over at Vox who takes a gingerly sip from his drink. The TV Demon smacks his lips and smiles. “I like it,” he nods, appreciatively. “What’s in this?”

         “What’s not in it,” Slips snickers. “Everclear, rum, tequila, melon liqueur, sour apple pucker, blue curacao, and citrus soda.”

         Alastor drinks from his cup and uses a claw to spear one of the pineapple chunks. He pops it into his mouth. Ooh! “My compliments to the mixer,” Alastor raises his drink to Slips. “This is exquisite!”

         “Brother Haze,” Cleave calls. “Water’s ready!”

         Brother Haze claps his hands. “Far out! Vox, have you ever been to a crawfish boil?”

         “Can’t say I have,” Vox replies. He tries to fish out a slice of lime.

         “Well, you’re in for a treat. Both of you follow me.”

         Alastor and Vox follow the smoke demon over to where a few demons and demonesses doing stand near two roiling pots. Alastor’s mouth waters at the smell of the familiar spices. The demons throw in sticks of butter, an assortment of spices and seasonings, minced garlic, sliced onions and sliced sausage. An older Sinner demoness walks up with a large wooden stirrer and steps onto a stool so she can see over the pot. When sauce is ready, another two demons appear carrying a box. The two of them work as a team to haul the box closer. When they get there, Brother Haze holds up a hand. He pushes the lid off the box and picks up one of the crawfish for Alastor and Vox to see.

         The “crawfish” has a cluster of what appear to be sixty eyes and is the deep purple of a blood-swollen bruise. They’re also much bigger than the crawfish of Alastor’s youth. These beasts are about the size of his hand and part of his wrist.

         Other than that, it does resemble a crawfish. For the most part.

         “I can’t wait to eat that,” Alastor whispers.

         The demons pour the crawfish into the boil and step away. Next Brother Haze takes to a table where a couple of Sinners work in tandem. One demoness swiftly batters the catfish and adds it to a pile next to another demoness who's adding and removing beautifully golden-brown filets from bubbling oil. She transfers the fried beauties to paper towel covered pans to drain the grease. Another Sinner stands off to the side spooning out coleslaw onto plates lined up on the table. Alastor spies a giant bowl piled high with hushpuppies being carted over to the table and almost weeps. “I am so happy,” he dabs at his eyes.

         “Crawfish is ready,” someone calls.

         Vox blinks. “I thought they just went in?”

         Alastor’s already on the move. “Doesn’t take long for them to cook.” He rubs his hands together in excitement. Sensatia is among the demons helping serve the guests and she hands Alastor and Vox each a round tin pan piled high with crawfish, corn, slices of sausage, and steaming potatoes. “Find yourselves a nice spot and dig in,” she tells them. “No need to wait.”

         “Ma’am, thank you so much.” Alastor tells her. “Vox, come along. I’ll need to show you how to peel them.”

         The crawfish peels the same way as its Living World counterpart and for that the deer demon is grateful. “Now, there are multiple ways you can do this. Some people swear by the tried and true Pull the Tail and Suck the Head method, but I use this method.” Alastor slowly demonstrates. “Pull the tail straight then push it toward the body like you’re trying to shove it into its body and now yank it back.” He does so and pulls free the tail. “My God!” Alastor can’t help but gape. The tail meat of this beast resembles the size of the meat pulled from a king crab leg. “Haze! Where did King Lucifer even get these?”

         Brother Haze is on his sixth crawfish. He sucks noisily on the head before tossing it into a bucket. “I think he gets them from Envy. I heard they’re an aquatic Ring, but I guess they got more than oceans and seas down there. How’s it taste?”

         Alastor peels the meat from the tail, dips the meat into a cup of spicy garlic butter, and pops it into his mouth. It’s…odd. The thickness and taste remind Alastor of shrimp, but the look and feel is more like crawfish. He can’t wrap his head around it.

         Mzimu nudges him with his elbow. “Helps if you close your eyes. That way your brain can’t overthink it.”

         Alastor closes his eyes and chews. When he reopens his eyes, he sees the Trio staring at him expectantly. Instead of speaking, he reaches down into his pan and breaks open another crawfish and devours it.

         Then another…

         …and another.

         Brother Haze guffaws, slapping his knee before returning to his own meal. Sensatia’s pile of crawdads aren’t as high as theirs, but she says that’s only because she’s “trying to save room for the catfish.”

         Their crawdads are only half gone when the call that the catfish is ready goes out. People line up to fix themselves a plate. The catfish like the crawfish are larger than their Living World counterparts, but just as good, especially when served with a side of fresh cut fries, coleslaw, hot sauce, and hushpuppies.

         Alastor watches Vox eat his meal with more gusto than he’s ever seen. The deer demon theorizes that this is probably the biggest meal the Media Demon’s ever eaten.

         Since mouths are too busy being filled to bother with singing, Alastor takes it upon himself to summon a band of shadow moppets and haints to play some zydeco. Everyone associated ragtime and jazz with the Radio Demon, but his grandmother and her family had been born and raised in Opelousas and le musique Creole was in his blood. His fondest memories were when he and his cousins attempted to stay up as long as possible as his mother’s extended family threw a riotous la la party that lasted until dawn. Sadly, zydeco was one of the many things Alastor had to give up once he decided to pass. Zydeco was the music of the poor, rural, and often heavily Negro populated areas. Alastor’s straight hair and slender nose were often enough to keep him safe, but too many slip ups and he might find himself hanging from a tree.

         With full bellies and good music in their ears, the others free up some tables and begin to play games.

         Alastor joins Brother Haze and Sensatia and a demoness in a sunshine yellow mini dress and white go-go boots named Euphoria for a game of Spades.

         Brother Haze glances over at Vox who’s in the middle of a game of dominoes with Mzimu and two other demons. “He’s doing better,” the smoke demon comments.

         Alastor looks up. It’s true. As he suspected, good food, a good time, and about three cups of that Swamp Water had been enough to distract the Media Overlord from the strangeness. “He was just a bit out of sorts,” Alastor confides. “Something about this part of the Pentagram makes him uneasy. The walk through the stadium only made it worse.”

         Brother Haze nods. He puts down a nine of diamonds. Sensatia puts down a five of diamonds. Euphoria sighs and puts down her three of diamonds. Alastor puts down a ten and claims the cards. “What do you mean,” Haze asks. “About the stadium, I mean.”

         Alastor tilts his head. “Have…you not been out in the rest of the building?”

         “No. The door sort of just opened up and lets us out here.”

         Ah. Well, that explains some things.

         “What’s in the rest of the building,” Sensatia asks.

         Alastor hesitates, then carefully tells them what he and Vox saw. He makes sure to keep his voice low so as to not to cause a panic among the others. When he’s done Haze and Sensatia exchange a look. They turn back toward the archway door.

         “Well,” Brother Haze says after a moment. “That’s…troubling.” He puts down a card. “I often wondered what happened to the people who used to live in this part of the city. I did think it was strange that they just up and vanished.”

         Alastor looks at him, confused and says, “I thought you chose this part of the city because of how empty it was?”

         “Well,” Sensatia hems and haws. “Yes and no. We chose to live here in the sense that Lucifer provided it as a choice.”

         “Oh yeah, he gave us a choice,” Brother Haze says. He takes a drink before clarifying, “As in a ‘you can live here, or you can not live at all’ sort of choice.”

         Oh.

         “At least, you’ve managed to make it your own.”

         “Mm-hmm,” Haze nods. “It helps that we don’t leave our designated spot. Not really. The door always takes us back to our haven.”

         Alastor looks around. “Speaking, of,” he says, “should you be out for this long? Will the door disappear?”

         “Nah, it’s cool. It only disappears if it’s closed,” Sensatia explains. “We had it open to bring out the food and supplies. Long as we don’t close it, it stays put.”

         “How goes the princess’s project,” Brother Haze asks out of the blue.

         Alastor side-eyes the other demon. Was this sincere curiosity or just an attempt to make polite conversation? “Vox and I have put the finishing touches on our script, and he’s done a walk through with his crew to determine what shots we’ll use. We also have some applicants, which I’m personally excited to interview.”

         Brother Haze chuckles. “You’re not going to give them a hard time, are you?”

         “Me?” Alastor puts a hand to his chest and pretends to look hurt. “Perish the thought! I will be the picture of kindness and civility.” He snickers. “Although, I can’t wait to see who decides to show. I’m sure there are plenty of Sinners down here who think they got a raw deal. Doesn’t mean they deserve to walk through the Pearly Gates.”

         He expects Brother Haze to disagree. To mimic Charlie and spout some nonsense about people being capable of change, but the smoke demon simply nods. “Fair enough. We don’t need the princess giving redemption to the Hitler and whoever.”

         “You know, I keep hearing that name. Who is that?”

         Sensatia, Haze, and Euphoria look up from their cards. “Oooh,” Sensatia winces. “You know, that might be too heavy of a topic for this party. How about we change the subject?”

         “I guess we got a time frame of death for you,” Brother Haze comments. Sensatia shoots him a look. “What?” he shrugs. The smoke demon suddenly looks reflective. “You ever think about what we’re missing up there? In the Land of the Living?”

         “Not really,” Alastor says with a shrug. It’s not a total lie. Does he sometimes have a passing curiosity of world events? Yes, but it’s fleeting and few and far between. What use would it be to dwell on anything happening up there when they couldn’t be there?

         “Cleave got here in ’72,” Haze tells him. “Says there was this far out music concert held in New York called Woodstock. He says it would have been our kind of scene. 1969!” Brother Haze shakes his head. “Wish we could have seen it!”

         “I bet it would’ve been a gas,” Sensatia says. She sighs. With a glum frown, she picks a mushroom off her shoulder and pops it into her mouth. “You know what I miss? Moon pies. Isn’t that wild? My mama used to slide one into our lunch sacks and I used to get so mad because they’d get all sticky by lunchtime. I could barely peel them out of the wrapper. Now, sometimes all I can think about is how good a moon pie would be. Can’t find one down here either.”

         “Fried chicken livers,” Brother Haze says. He leans back in his chair. “From an actual chicken. I don’t want chimkin or whatever-the-fuck beasts they have down here. I want chicken livers from an actual chicken. Fried up with some hot sauce splashed on top.”

         “My mother’s chicken and dumplings,” Alastor whispers. He stares at his cards but is too lost in his memories to see them. “It wasn’t anything special, but it warmed you to your bones. She made the dumplings from scratch. Drop not flat. She couldn’t stand flat dumplings. I’ve tried for years to recreate that recipe, but I never seem to come close, and I don’t think it has anything to do with the quality of ingredients. I think it’s just…” Alastor’s entire countenance seems to droop even while his smile stays firmly in place. “It wasn’t made by her.”

         “The fuck are y’all doing over there,” Mzimu shouts. He and Vox are staring in their direction. “You look fucking morose.”

         “We’re talking about things we miss from when we were alive,” Haze shouts back.

         “Ah hell,” Mzimu curses. He climbs to his feet with another snarled bit of profanity and stomps over to them. “Y’all need to stop ruining the mood. And that’s coming from me!” He grabs Sensatia’s hand and pulls her from her seat. “Alright, little mama. You and I are gonna dance. Haze? You can join us when you stop being a downer.”

         Brother Haze looks offended. “I’m not a downer!”

         “Really? Cuz you’re acting like I should be helping you to bed. What’s the matter? Can’t hang with us young folks?”

         “Ohhh. Okay. I see how it is.” Haze puts down his cards and stands. “I’m gonna dance circles around you!”

         Alastor and Euphoria set down their cards (probably for the best since they were losing) and rise from their seats. “No one asked me,” Euphoria says to Alastor. “But okra and tomatoes. My granny made the best okra and tomatoes.”

         The Trio (like true Southerners) send both Alastor and Vox home with aluminum foil wrapped plates of leftovers. Sensatia's even kind enough to give them some jungle juice in emptied plastic milk jugs.

         Vox and Alastor make their way out of the stadium, in such high spirits that they don’t even take the time to look at the frozen corpses as they pass.

         “What an excellent time,” Alastor says. He sways a little. Perhaps he had indulged in one too many cups. “Would you like to walk back, or shall we attempt the Void?”

         “Void,” Vox answers, shifting the platters in his arms. “I don’t think we can lug all this stuff back to the hotel in our current state.”

         “We could if we had assistance,” Alastor says with a pointed glare at his feet even though both his shadow and Signal had left over half an hour ago. “Ugh.”

         “Aw, leave ’em alone,” Vox slurs. He grins. “They’re off having their own kind of fun. They’ll come back when they’re good and ready.” He tries to lean over and give Alastor a kiss on the cheek, but can't manage thanks to his load. “Thanks for letting me tag along. Sorry I was so bleh earlier. I didn’t mean to freak like that.”

         “You have no reason to apologize,” Alastor insists. “If I were in your shoes, I imagine I’d react badly to being cut off like that. Once we get back, you’ll feel right as rain.” He pauses. “Shall I have the Void drop you off at the Hotel or at your tower?”

         “Tower first. I’ll drop off these plates, then head over to you.” Vox wobbles. “Need to check in with Vesta and Briar too. See how things are going post-merger.”

         “Exquisite! I will see you soon.” Alastor taps a heel onto the asphalt and opens a portal for Vox. The TV Demon jumps right in with a loud whoop. Alastor walks into his own portal that plants in the middle of the Hazbin Hotel’s lobby. “Good day to you all!” He yells.

         Husk looks over at him. “Where the hell have you been? What’s all that?”

         “Leftover vittles,” Alastor tells him. “Also, here.” He hands Husk the jug of Swamp Water. “Don’t say I never bring you anything nice.”

         Husk eyes the jug suspiciously. “What is this?”

         “Swamp Water Jungle Juice! It’s amazing. I’ve had…” Alastor furrows his brows as he tries to think. “…so many cups! It’s very good.”

         Husk’s pupils go wide. “Is this alcohol? Did you bring me alcohol?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, simply takes one of the glasses off the shelves. He opens the jug and pours out a small amount because he still doesn’t trust Alastor. The cat demon gives it a tentative sniff then tosses it back. “Oh. My. God.”

         “You’re welcome,” Alastor says in a singsong manner. He slides one of the wrapped plates onto the bar. “Also, food. Bye!” He spins around on his heel and comes face to face with Charlie. “Charlie! Hello! I must say I’m surprised to see you here.”

         Charlie puts her hands on her hips and stares at the deer demon disapprovingly. “Alastor, you disappeared. Again.”

         “No, I didn’t. I’m pretty sure I told you I was going out. With Vox,” he adds.

         “Oh, no. Alastor, are you drunk?”

         “Mmmaybe?”

         Charlie looks horrified. “Please tell me you didn’t drive again!”

         “I didn’t drive. I used a portal.”

         The princess breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay, that’s good. Yeah. Alastor, as my sponsor I expect better of you.”

         Alastor lets his head fall back and groans. “Why are you lecturing me?” he demands. “I haven’t even done anything wrong! I brought food!”

         Charlie wrings her hands. “It’s just when you disappear like that, we can’t help but worry about what you’re doing. You can’t just go rogue given your…” she trails off, trying desperately to fish a politer term out of the ether and coming up short.

         Alastor sighs. He doesn’t want to stand here all day while this royal fuddy-duddy's attempts to scold him. “Charlotte Morningstar, I’m shocked by your behavior!” He set the plates on the floor so he can point an accusing finger in her direction. “I go out of my way to carry these carefully prepared plates of delicious food back to the hotel with the purpose of sharing and instead of thanks I’m greeted with this attitude from you! Now, it’s true. I’ve murdered a lot of people. A lot. So many. It’s honestly amazing the sheer quantity of corpses that I have under my belt. But,” He jabs his finger in the air. “Your continued accosting of me at this moment makes you just as bad – nay – worse than me. You should be ashamed! You have no faith in me. No trust! Do you have any idea what that does to a fellow’s self-worth?  I may be a murderer of people, but you madam? You are a murderer of my feelings!” He points a finger in her face, smooshing her nose.

         Charlie gasps, horrified. “Omigosh,” she claps her hands against her cheeks. She flinches away from Alastor, too ashamed to look at him. “I didn’t think—oh, Alastor, I’m so sorry! You’re right. Me asking where you’ve been is just as bad as – wait, no it isn’t. Alastor, that doesn’t make any…” Charlie turns and sees that the Radio Demon used her momentary distraction to escape. “…sense. Well, fuck.” She rubs the back of her neck. “That was super embarrassing.” Charlie looks over and sees Husk sipping from his glass, watching. She gives a tiny wince before asking, “Can you not tell Vaggie about what just happened? Pretty please?”

         “Okay,” Husk replies and shrugs. “But I plan on telling Angel and he’ll probably tell Vaggie.”

         Charlie groans and hangs her head. “I’ll be in my office,” she mutters.

          Alastor cracks open an eye when he feels the mattress sink. “Mm,” He sighs. “You made it.”

         Vox wraps his arms around the deer demon’s waist and snuggles closer. “Would have been here sooner, but Niffty wanted me to read her latest work.”

         “I’m so sorry.”

         “Hey. We got no one else to blame but ourselves.” Alastor can hear the laughter in the Media Overlord’s voice. “We were just too sexy for her to handle.”

         “Mm-hmm. And how filthy was this copy?”

         “Surprisingly more story driven and no smut.”

         Alastor sits up enough so he can direct an incredulous look at the other demon. Vox snickers. “I’m serious. Well, for the first half. The second half is just three hundred pages of you railing me over a throne.”

Alastor blinks. “Did you say throne?” Also, three hundred pages?! Jesus Christ, Niffty!

Vox rolls onto his back and puts his arms behind his head. “Yep. So get this. In her story I’m the ruler of some made up sci-fi fantasy land and you’re the leader of the invading planet or country (it wasn’t really clear) and you want to claim both my throne and my world. It’s honestly got some very detailed world-building.” Vox yawns. “I think my favorite part is when we’re having our face to face over video monitors—”

“What?”

“Oh. Um, think of it like a TV, but you can see and talk to me and vice versa. Think future phones.” Vox wiggles his fingers. “Anyway, yeah, so we’re having our face to face and spewing bravado and I think my character makes some comment on never allowing an outsider on my ancestral throne or some shit and you tell me, ‘Not only am I taking that throne, but the only way you’ll ever touch it again is when I bend you over it and fuck you on it’.” The Media Overlord laughs at Alastor’s disgusted groan. “I swear it’s a good line. I’m just not doing it justice. So anyway, your character decimates my forces, you march alone to my throne room, kill my guards, and you find me behind the doors, ‘gripping the armrests of his throne, eyes wide with a strange mix of fear and anticipation’,” Vox snickers. “And ‘shedding his military accouterments as he approaches, Alastor’s eyes are ablaze beneath the dim glow of the overhead fixtures. He keeps his heated gaze on the cowering, timid emperor—’”

“Ha! There’s not a timid bone in your body!”

Vox flicks his ear. He rolls over and gives the same ear an apologetic kiss “Hush. Where was I? ‘He keeps his heated gaze on the cowering, timid emperor and reaching into his coat he pulls out a set of gilded manacles complete with a chain, and in a low, rumbling growl he says, ‘I’m a man of my word.’ And then you chain me to my throne’s arm rest and Niffty draws three hundred pages of illustrations of you blowing out my back.” He grins as Alastor takes his own pillow and pretends to smother himself. “Oh, come on. It’s only three hundred pages! The rest—”

“There’s more?!”

“Oh, yeah. It’s a literal tome. I could use that sonuvabitch to cave in a skull if I was inclined. But the rest is political intrigue, us getting married at the behest of your advisors and to ward off any political dissent. By that point of the story, you and I are so deeply in love and the marriage is more of a formality than anything because as far as anyone else is concerned we’re a ruling couple.” Vox grins and takes the pillow off the deer demon’s face. “And we end the story conquering other galaxies and live happily ever after. The end.”

“I really wish she’d get another hobby.” Alastor groans. He sighs and rolls over to face Vox. The other demon isn’t wearing a shirt and in the low light, Alastor can see the pale scars against his skin. His eyes linger on the bullet hole. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss against it. “Did you have fun today?”

“I did,” Vox confirms. “Sorry about freaking out like that.”

“You have no reason to apologize. It was a strange situation all around.” Alastor stills as he feels Vox’s fingers running along the scars along his shoulders and arms. “I spoke with Brother Haze. You were correct in your assumption that it’s their door that moves. They weren’t even aware of what was in the rest of the building.”

“Oh, that must have sucked for them.”

Alastor hums. “Well, I can’t imagine that they lingered after the party was over,” he says. “Good food is one thing, but remaining in a tomb might bring down the mood.”

“I tried looking into that part of the city.”

Alastor leans back so he can look at Vox. The TV headed demon looks back at him, expression serious. “Alastor,” he begins, almost hesitantly. “I couldn’t find anything. Like anything. It’s like that part of the city doesn’t even exist even though it’s right there. We can walk there from the hotel and I can’t find anything about it. No former rental information. No businesses that could have been found there. I don’t know what sort of magical bullshit hangs over that place, but it’s huge.”

“Quite the mystery,” Alastor agrees. His eyes feel heavy. “One we’ll have to save for another day as I’m quite tuckered. I have to sit in on interviews tomorrow and I need rest. So,” he taps the center of Vox’s screen with his fingers. “No more talks of fiction written by incorrigible little maids or of creepy ghost sections of the city. Rest.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Vox mutters, but Alastor can already see his eyes sliding closed. “Night, Al.”

“Goodnight, Vox.”

Brother Haze sits on the floor of his inner sanctum, legs crossed in a meditative pose. His husband and wife are both in bed, along with most of the other members of the congregation, but he’s can’t go to bed. Not yet.

He’s got a visitor coming.

Cleave knocks on the door frame. “Um, Brother Haze?” It would be unusual to see the big Sinner look so nervous, but Haze has an idea what’s got him so freaked out. “Your, um, visitor is here.”

Brother Haze inhales deeply, then exhales sending a cloud of smoke pouring from his head. He’s glad he didn’t partake in one of Sensatia’s special itty bitties. That would have just made things worse. “I’m ready.”

Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell strolls into his office. “Good evening, Haze,” the king says with a bright smile. “I know you’ve had a long day and I appreciate you waiting up.” He looks around. Lucifer waves a hand and the room clears of smoke. “That’s better. I find a little visibility is best when it comes to these conversations. Of course, you’d probably say the opposite, wouldn’t you? The clouds allow you to observe others without them knowing that you can see them clear as day. There’s also the added benefit of your little…” he mimes smoking a joint, “to help loosen their tongues. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, King Lucifer.”

“Oh, please.” Lucifer waves a hand. “There’s no need for such formality!” The words are accompanied by a serpentine rattling.  “Call me Lucifer.” When Brother Haze remains silent, the devil laughs and applauds. “Very good! Very good! That was a test. A test that I knew you’d pass because you’re very clever, Brother Haze. So clever.” He snaps his fingers and the Sinner gets yanked into the air and dragged before him. Lucifer moves to sit and as he does, a throne of white bone rises out of the floor. He points at his feet and Brother Haze is dropped unceremoniously to the floor. An invisible hand forces the Sinner to prostrate at his polished shoes. “Yes, so clever that I’m surprised you were foolish enough to invite someone outside of your congregation to visit.” Lucifer places the heel of his cane beneath Haze’s chin and uses it to lift the Sinner’s face. He uses the heel to slide Haze’s sunglasses off his face and to the floor. “That’s better,” Lucifer purrs. “It’s always nice to see the fear in a subject’s eyes. Now,” he makes a big show of settling back on the throne and getting comfortable. “Let’s have a conversation. Just the two of us. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

“Yes, King Morningstar.”

Lucifer’s smile stretches. “Good, good. Now, perhaps you’d like to explain to me what part of our agreement you didn’t understand, hmm? I was so sure I was crystal clear about you not seeking out other Sinners to join your little drug den and yet—” he laughs. “I get word that you have invited not one, but two people here! Haze, Haze, Haze.” Lucifer shakes his head. “Do you know how that makes me feel? Disrespected. I do not like feeling disrespected. It hurts my feelings and hurt feelings,” Lucifer’s eyes glow the fiery red of flames, “can lead to all sorts of accidents. Do we want accidents, Haze? Hmm?”

Brother Haze begins to sweat. “No, sire.”

“See? I knew you were clever. And that brings me back to my original issue.” Lucifer’s voice grows sharp. “Those people. Who were they?”

Haze swallows a lump in his throat. “Alastor the Radio Demon and V-Vox.”

The snake on Lucifer’s top hat begins to unwind. It slithers down the back of the king’s neck, down his shoulder, and down the arm holding the cane currently pointing at Brother Haze’s face. The serpent opens its mouth and green venom drips from two pointed fangs. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong,” Lucifer says in a voice steely and calm, “But if my memory serves me correctly those two are Overlords. Haze, are you trying to get two Overlords to join your congregation?” The snake moves closer and its forked tongue flicks against the smoke demon’s nose.

“O-of course not! My king, we simply invited Alastor as a friend. We were from neighboring states when we were alive! We just wanted to talk! Share a meal! Vox was invited because he’s the Radio Demon’s lover. They have no desire to join us.”

Lucifer stares him down. He tilts his head. “And this isn’t some attempt to entice my daughter to join your ranks? Hmm? Using one of her hotel members to get to her?”

Haze blinks dumbly up at the demon. “I – what? No, we weren’t even thinking about the princess. My king I swear. We sent the invite to Alastor and Alastor alone.”

“Because he’s a Southerner,” Lucifer says with a roll of his eyes. “Pardon me, but aren’t there plenty of other Southern Sinners down here? Why haven’t you invited them to your doors to break bread?”

Brother Haze scowls and spits, “Because I don’t want to invite anyone who may have had ties with the Klan or owned people who looked like me,” before he can stop himself. Brother Haze winces and prepares for the worst.

Lucifer just laughs. He pulls away the cane and the serpent returns to its original spot on his hat. “That’s fair,” he chuckles. “You must forgive my paranoia. Come, let’s go for a walk.” He stands and starts moving with the confidence that Haze will follow.

With no choice, Brother Haze does just that.

Lucifer strides down the halls of Brother Haze’s home, turning down the twisting labyrinth of hallways. “I find your architecture so interesting,” he comments. “You make it so easy to get lost, but I suppose that’s the point, isn’t it? Making it harder to find your people.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Mm-hmm,” Lucifer stops in front of a door and Haze’s blood runs cold because he knows where they are. The King of Hell looks over his shoulder and directs a grin at the smoke demon before pushing open the door. He walks inside and holds the door open for Haze.

The Queen of Hell, Lilith Morningstar stands in his bedroom next to his bed, staring down at the sleeping forms of Sensatia and Mzimu. One hand plays idly with the hilt of a sheathed blade attached to the belt around her waist. She lazily raises her eyes from the sleeping Sinners to look at her husband. “How did the conversation go,” she asks.

“Very well,” Lucifer responds. He puts a hand on Brother Haze’s shoulder, pretending he didn’t feel the Sinner flinch. “Haze has been behaving himself. I was worried for no reason.”

“I told you so,” Lilith says with a smile. She moves away from the bed and Haze lets out a shaky breath. “You must learn to have a little faith in others, my love.” She walks to her husband’s side and plants a little kiss on his red cheek. Without speaking to or looking at Brother Haze, she walks out of the room.

“She’s right,” Lucifer sighs dramatically. “I suppose I should, but it’s so hard, you know? Trust is something that can be easily abused. You know that better than any of us.” He gives Haze’s shoulder a gentle shake. “After all, we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you hadn’t trusted a certain someone now would we?” He chuckles as he feels Haze tense. His tongue flicks out as if tasting something in the air. “Ooh! Was that a bit of rage I just detected? With just a hint of self-loathing and a desire for revenge? Mmm. Delectable! Did I strike a nerve, Haze? Good. I can see into that pretty head of yours.” He gives Haze’s forehead a tap. “And I’m not just saying that because it’s made of glass. I can see the dark thoughts that prowl around in that skull. I can see what you’re willing to do to keep your family safe. I can see what you want to do to the one who betrayed you and hurt the people you love. No, no. Don’t look away. There’s no reason to be ashamed. If anything, it makes me like you more. It means you understand where I’m coming from. Despite our disagreements and differences in opinions, my little Charlotte is still my daughter and I love her.”

Haze meets Lucifer’s gaze and the king silently commends him for maintaining eye contact. “I understand, your majesty, but as I keep telling you. We have no interest in your daughter’s hotel.”

“Is that so?”

“We did give her advice. We told her that she should only focus on Sinners who are actually sorry for what they’ve done. Anybody else would be a waste of her time.”

Lucifer’s hand tightens on his shoulder. “Maybe don’t give my Charlie advice. That’s not your job. In fact, maybe you shouldn’t have any more contact with her at all. How does that sound? Fair? Fair.” He gives Haze a little push away from the door. “Remember, Haze. I’ve got my eye on you. This—” he gestures broadly “—is only kept safe because you keep in line. If I have reason to believe you’re being naughty I will take everything and everyone away. Now, we both know I can’t let you wander about. No, no, no. Your little…quirk,” he eyes Haze up and down. “Doesn’t mesh well with what I’m going for down here but mark my words. If you cross me, I will find a way to make your Afterlife unbearable. And we wouldn’t want that.”

“No, your majesty.”

Lucifer flashes him a grin. “Good. I’m glad we had this little chat. I’ll see myself out. You look tired, Brother Haze. Why don’t you go to bed? Give your husband and wife a kiss. Hold them close.” Lucifer turns to leave, but his parting shot echoes in Haze’s mind, even after he’s long gone:

“You never know when they’ll be taken away.”

Chapter Text

Alastor sits in his room, nursing his headache with straight bourbon. Although he’d been looking forward to the interviews, once they began the Radio Demon found himself wishing they’d end.

These current applicants were so clearly unworthy of redemption of any kind, but Charlie still made them sit there and listen to the Sinners state their cases. The first applicant began the interview with a long-winded (and unprompted) speech detailing her background and “illustrious” family history where she casually dropped that she and her family were former slaveowners. She also made the comment about knowing that Vaggie wasn’t white because “she had a sixth sense about that sort of thing,” but she incorrectly called the moth Sinner a Mexican. When Alastor voiced his opinion about her and her family’s slave owning ways, she had turned up her nose and called him a filthy abolitionist.

“I can’t say that I’m surprised to find one of you down here,” she said with a sneer. “Stealing honest, hardworking people’s property because you had the delusion that they had feelings. Shame on you!”

Charlie quickly thanked the Sinner and sent her on her way, promising they’d review her application and get back to her. The second she was gone; Alastor set fire to her form and tossed it into the wastebasket and Vaggie spat on the ashes.

The other meetings were just as bad.

These Sinners didn’t seem to realize that an important part of their redemption process required them to own up to whatever misdeeds had landed them here. To show just a smidge of self-reflection and regret. Like that slave-owning bitch, they insisted that they were upstanding citizens while they were alive. Surely, being thrown into the fiery pits was the result of some sort of error. A bureaucratic mishap or some sort?

Idiots.

Alastor groans. He takes off his monocle and rubs his eyes. They had more applicants coming tomorrow and the deer demon doesn’t think he has it in him to sit there and pretend to care about the drivel spilling from the mouths of fools. He has a show this evening. Perhaps he could use it as an excuse to sit out tomorrow? He can claim that he’s too exhausted from—

Alastor’s ear twitches as he catches the sound of something repeatedly hitting his bedroom window. He turns his head and sees a mushroom with a pair of wings banging against the glass. There’s an envelope attached to its cap. Alastor runs to the window, throws it open, and plucks off the letter, and slams the window close just as the mushroom explodes in a cloud of spores. He retakes his seat and uses a claw to open the envelope.

Alastor’s eyes scan the letter.

Dear Alastor,

There’s no easy way to say this, but we think it would be better if there were no future contact from you or the other members of your hotel…

Alastor’s eyes grow wide because he’s got a sinking feeling.

…despite my continued assurances to the contrary (Haze’s writing is more formal than Alastor had been expecting) King Lucifer believes that our friendship with you is an attempt to pull his daughter into our ranks. I’m sorry, Alastor. I was careless. Lucifer’s made his demands. We’re no longer allowed to have contact with his daughter. He threatened my family, Alastor. He was prepared to have them killed. I can’t lose them. I can’t lose any of my people. No matter what I say or do, Lucifer’s always going to believe that my goal is to get to his daughter. Maybe I’m overreacting, but I think it would be better if you didn’t come here anymore. That way Lucifer can’t accuse us of using you to get to the princess.

Please, for our sakes just stay away.

Alastor refolds the letter and tucks it away into the pocket of his coat.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

“This won’t do,” he mutters to himself. He tosses back the rest of his drink before putting on his coat. The letter was nonsense. Absolute foolishness.

“Alastor,” Vaggie calls when she sees the deer demon coming down the stairs. “Where—”

“Out,” he snarls. He needs to talk to Brother Haze. Yes, that’s it. The four of them would put their heads together and think of a solution to the problem plaguing them.

Alastor makes his way to the intersection that leads to the abandoned section.

The Radio Demon comes to a dead stop and stares.

A statue of Lucifer stands next to the wall of a building just before the entrance to the abandoned city block.

That statue hadn’t been there the last time.

The sculpture is large and imposing. Lucifer stands with an almost gentle smile on his face as he looks out at the city, his hand outstretched with an apple in his palm. The deer demon steels his nerves and swallows before continuing his way. He needs to see the Trio. He’s a man on a mission!

Alastor walks down the street and turns a corner.

He’s at the entrance of the street, facing the city.

No!

He turns around and tries again.

Back at the entrance.

No! No! Please, no!

Alastor tries again.

And again.

The final time he breaks out in a run, thinking a little speed will do the trick. He skids to a stop as he once again finds himself right back where he started.

With a wave of nausea passing over him, Alastor turns to look at the statue.

The eyes stare directly at him, and the smile has changed from gentle to smug.

Alastor retreats to the hotel. He’s immediately greeted by Vaggie who stands before him with her hands on her hips. “Okay, first,” she growls. “You don’t just get to leave like that. We got, like, a dozen or so more interview lined up.” Vaggie looks him up and down then sighs. “But,” she continues, “I can understand that some of the applicants can be a little…” she trails off with a growl. “So, I talked to Charlie and we both agreed that maybe it would be best if you sat out the rest of the day. Get some rest or whatever.” Vaggie blinks. “Are you okay? You seem a little…weird. Well, weirder. Did that slave-owning bitch upset you that much?”

Alastor hesitates. He could tell Vaggie about the situation with Brother Haze but decides against it. The second she heard, Vaggie would tell Charlie and there was no point to it. Not only could the princess not do anything to help, but her knowing about it would most likely cause Brother Haze and his congregants more harm. Lucifer was already so sure that the smoke demon was trying to influence Charlie, so any interference or comment made from her would seal their fates.

         Vaggie sighs again. “Yeah, you definitely need to sit out. We can’t have you sitting in when you’re like this,” she waves at him. “We’ll either end up with the building on fire –”

         True.

         “ – or you disemboweling people and smearing their entrails on the walls!”

         Also, true.

         Alastor makes a sweeping bow to Vaggie. “I thank you for understanding, Vagatha. It’s true. Currently, I don’t think I’m in the right mood to deal with delusional Sinners. Thank you for, as the youths say, ‘Taking one for the team’.”

         “It sounds so weird when you try to use slang.” Vaggie grimaces. “Probably because you insist on beginning it with ‘As the youths say’ which we’ve told you a thousand times you don’t need to do!”

         Oh, he knows and that’s why he does it.

         “Perhaps I’ll go visit Vox,” Alastor muses aloud. “We can grab a meal.”

         “Awesome. Great. Excellent idea.” Vaggie sighs. She makes a shooing motion with her hands and says, “You can go hang with Vox and we can have a sit down with…” she takes out a form and reads it. Vaggie groans. “A guy who wrote ‘a believer of the inherent superiority of the Aryan race’ on his application next to his fucking name. Jesus Christ…”

         Alastor’s already at the door. “No take backs,” he calls over his shoulder before leaving.

         Alastor summons his shadow. “My shadowy specter, do you know where Vox and Signal are currently?”

         His shadow nods. “Excellent,” Alastor says and holds out a hand. He and his shadow meld and teleport.

         Alastor looks about. His shadow appears to have located the Media Overlord in a studio. The taps of his shoes echo throughout the room. Where was everyone? The deer approaches a door and gives raps his knuckles against it. He has to move back as the door bursts open. “Who the fuck is knocking?” Vesta screeches as pokes her head out. “This is a closed fucking set!”

         “Hello, Ms. Vesta!” Alastor waves.

         The bat demon’s demeanor flips just like that. “Oh, Mr. Alastor,” she coos. “It’s so good to see you!”

         “And you as well,” Alastor returns, giving a bow. “I was wondering if Vox was free for lunch?”

         “You know what? I can check. Hold on. Briar! Come here! Vox, has a visitor!”

         “This a closed fucking set, Vesta,” Briar shouts as he appears in the door. “Who in the fuck—oh, Mr. Alastor! So good to see you! How are you?”

         “I’m doing very well, Briar. Just here to see Vox is at a good stopping point. I’d like to take him to lunch.”

         “Right, right.” Briar nods. “Well, he’s in the middle of giving some ‘helpful criticism’ to one of the actors, but I guess he wouldn’t mind if you pulled him away.” He and Vesta step back and hold the doors for him. “Come on in!”

         Alastor follows them. As they get closer, he can hear Vox yelling.

         “—I swear to fuck! You have had three months to learn your fucking lines, Jagger! Three fucking months! And don’t you dare stand there looking smug, Grizelle because if you miss any more of your cues I will kill you, your family, and anyone who has ever had the misfortune to make eye contact with you! Am I crazy? How long have we been at this? I feel like—” Vox turns when he feels Alastor tap on his shoulder. “Alastor! I’m so glad to see you. I’ve missed you.” He kisses the deer demon on the cheek. Someone goes, “Aww” and Vox whirls back around. “What the fuck are you looking at? Everybody fuck off! We’ll meet back tomorrow—early! And someone go check on Samson! Make sure he’s still alive! Everybody better show the fuck up on time. Looking at you, Yurial! If you’re even a second late I will fucking find you and drag you to the studio by your short and curlies!” Vox takes a deep breath before turning back to Alastor. “Okay, we can go.”

         Vesta walks up as they’re heading out. “Got you and Mr. Alastor a nice car coming. Should be pulling up any second. Have fun!”

         “Thanks Vesta,” Vox waves. “You ready to head out?”

         “Of course!” Alastor glances behind him. “So how was work?”

         “Awful.”

         The Radio Demon listens intently as the Media Overlord relays the issues he’s been having with his film. Apparently, Vox originally signed on as the film’s producer and assistant director but had to take the role of director because the actual director never shows up unless it’s to drop off changes to the script.

         “And there are so many changes,” Vox growls. “This guy is unbelievable! Like, I’m trying to rein him in, but it’s like trying to talk to a toddler! ‘No, Mr. Kilznib you don’t need a pyrotechnic musical number in this scene.’ And ‘if we have this scene here then you’ll have to cut this scene.’ It’s fucking exhausting,” Vox sighs. “Also, the current pyrotechnics set one our interns on fire so there’s that. I get that it’s his passion project, but he keeps adding so many new scenes and new lines that the actors can’t memorize them in time and we’re already behind in production, but every time I try to bring that up, he just whines about how I’m killing his creative juices whatever-the-fuck that means.”

         “I see,” Alastor says carefully even though he doesn’t. He has more experience watching films than creating them. “So, this Kilznib person is funding the movie?”

         “Technically we both are,” Vox says. “I signed on as a favor to his uncle, and I regret it. He’s never directed before, so he knows fuck-all what he’s doing. All he knows is that he wants it bigger and more impressive! Just more, more, more! Oh, and did I mention he also wants to star in it? Yeah. It’s a mess.” Vox looks at his phone when it chimes and groans. “He sent me another fucking rewrite. I hate him so much.”

         “I’m sorry, Vox.” Alastor says and takes the other demon’s hand. “Would you like me to kill him?”

         Vox considers it. “Maybe later,” he says with a sigh. “Let me get some food and maybe the day will suck a little less. Fuck. Here I am complaining, but I haven’t asked how your day has been. How did the interviews go?”

         Alastor glances at the driver. Although, the deer demon wishes to tell Vox about what’s happened with Brother Haze, that might be a conversation saved for when they have privacy. “The interviews are awful. And not even in an amusing way! Vagatha and Charlie allowed me a bit of respite because they were worried I’d kill someone. Honestly, they were right to worry.”

         Vox gives the deer demon a sympathetic pat on the hand. “Looks like we’ve both had a shitty day.” He chuckles. “You just want to grab some takeout and go home?”

         That sounded marvelous. “Your place or mine?”

         “I’m not picky,” Vox says.

         Alastor thinks. “Yours,” he decides. “If I go back to the hotel, there’s a risk that I might get pulled into another meeting. I can’t have that.”

         So, it’s decided. The driver lets them get out and they approach the restaurant.

Or they attempt to.

Seven Sinners move to block their path. “Hey,” the lead demon grins, showing a double row of sharp teeth. “You folks mind providing us with a generous and entirely involuntary donation? We’d much appreciate it.”

The Sinners form a circle around them.

Alastor blinks at them. He turns to look at Vox. “My dear, I’ve had an exceptionally long day so perhaps I’m slow on the uptake. What is happening?”

Vox looks amused. “They’re robbing us, Alastor.”

Oh.

“Oh?” Alastor says, slightly amused as he turns back to look at the demons. “Is that so? Well, I have to say that you’re certainly the bravest future dead men I’ve come across in a while.”

The lead demon sneers. “Save it, Radio Demon. Everyone knows you’ve gone soft. Now that you and TV Head are a thing, you’ve lost your edge.” He thumps a meaty fist into the palm of his hand.

“Yeah,” another Sinner chimes in. He runs a worm-like tongue over his lips. “So, spare yourself some pain and just give us what we want.”

Alastor stands there, confused. This isn’t the first time he’s ever been challenged, but he’s having a hard time understanding their confidence. Did they not realize that they were standing in the presence of not one, but two Overlords?

Were they new? They didn’t smell new.

Vox sighs. “They think you’ve gotten soft because we’re in a relationship. See, some people equate happiness with weakness because they’re idiots.”

“Ah, I see.” Alastor lets out a low laugh. “Vox, would you mind going ahead? I need to spend some time with these fine people and dissuade them from their incorrect viewpoint.”

“Alastor, don’t ruin your appetite.”

“No, no. I’m not going to eat them. Just…educate them.”

Vox shrugs and pushes his way past the demons. One of them moves to grab him, but Alastor’s shadow bites down on the demon’s arm and bites it clean off. His shadow tosses back his head and the swallows the hand with a snap of his jaws. The demon screams and clutches his bleeding stump. Alastor tsks. His limbs elongate and his antlers grow. “Come along. Don’t waste my time.”

After seeing their comrade lose a hand, the Sinners have second thoughts. “W-wait,” one of them says, holding up her hands in a shielding manner. “We were just joking around. Just let us go. We’re sorry!”

“Oh?” Alastor begins to laugh and as he does so, a pool of shadows bubbles around his feet. Cackling moppets and dolls pull themselves free of the inky miasma and join their master’s side. “You’re sorry?” Alastor repeats, breathless from laughter. “I have no doubt that you are. Unfortunately, my hands are tied.” He reaches out with one of his long limbs and grabs the closest demon by the face. Yanking him off his feet, the Radio Demon tosses him to the moppets and dolls who swarm him. Their tiny hands rip into the screaming demon’s body as easily as children tearing through wrapping paper. “If I let you go, then what message would that send, hmm? No, no. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I was going soft.” Alastor directs a gleaming smile to the lead Sinner, the instigator of this entire mess.

“Please,” the Sinner bleats, all his previous bravado gone. “Please, I made a mistake.”

“Oh, yes indeedy,” Alastor snarls. By now the roar of static has filled the air and the streets have cleared. There is only Alastor. Alastor and these unfortunate fools. “You’ve made many mistakes but fear not. This will be an educational experience.”

Inside the restaurant, Vox’s eyes scan the menu as he waits for Alastor to be done. The Media Overlord looks up briefly when the upper half of a body splats against the glass of the window. A tentacle wraps around the torso and slowly drags it away, leaving behind a bloody smear.

Vox lowers his gaze back to the menu.

A Sinner demoness walks up holding a bottle of wine. “Would you like to sample a glass while you wait for the rest of your party,” she asks.

“Hmm,” Vox looks at the label. There’s was no telling how long Alastor would be. “Yeah, give me a glass. Thanks.” He sips from glass. Outside a weeping Sinner runs by the window only to be tackled by a ravenous group of shadow dolls. A lone hand slaps uselessly against the window before sinking into the clawing and biting mass. “This is good. Would you mind adding two bottles of this when we place our order?”

“Of course, sir.”

Alastor walks into the restaurant. There seems to be a skip in his step as he gets closer to Vox. “Have fun?”

“Oh yes,” Alastor’s grin grows wider. “It’s fine killing for a meal, but sometimes you just need to get the claws stained for recreational purposes. A little exercise. Nothing like a little cardio!” He looks at the demoness who walks up and offers him a glass of wine. “Ooh! Lovely! Thank you, my dear.” Alastor sips the glass. “Well, that’s a wonderful flavor!”

They order their food, and pile back into the car. Alastor apologizes to the driver for the state of his clothes. “Don’t worry about it, sir,” the Hellhound chauffeur tells him. “Not the worst fluid I’ve had to clean off the upholstery. To be honest, blood’s preferable.”

They return to Vox’s tower. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” Alastor comments on the ride up the elevator to the Media Overlord’s penthouse. “Why don’t you have a car? Do you not know how to drive?”

         “Oh, I know how to drive but having a car in Pentagram City makes as much sense as having one in LA or New York. I mean, finding parking is hard enough, but I’m not going to be stuck in traffic because some a-holes are duking it out on the freeway or because a monster decided it wanted to plop its ass down in the middle of the street.” Vox snorts.

         Fair enough. Alastor also imagines it isn’t cheap to get insurance on a vehicle that could be blown up, eaten, dropped into a pit, set on fire, or crushed by falling debris at any moment.

         “Well, hello Vark,” Alastor greets the shark as soon as the elevator doors open. “No! This is our food.”

         “Vark, I swear,” Vox sighs and tries to push the demon shark away. “You act like I never feed you. Come on, you menace. Back into your room until we finish eating.”

         At the mention of his room, Vark immediately falls over onto his side and refuses to move. Alastor chuckles as Vox lets out an exasperated stream of curses. “Alastor, why don’t you grab a shower while I get this giant baby into his tank?”

“Will do.”

Vox tries to drag his pet to his room which proves a fruitless task. Vark’s already heavy and that fact’s exacerbated by him going boneless. Vox huffs and decides that if the shark wants to play dirty then he can play dirty too. He digs around the bag until he finds a wrapped container of yeast rolls. He takes one and holds it high and begins walking backwards in the direction of Vark’s room. As Vox knew he would, Vark tracks the TV demon’s movement. “Vark! You want a treat?”

Vark scrambles onto his feet and barrels toward Vox. Vox smirks and throws the roll into Vark’s room and steps aside. The demon shark runs in and when his tail has crossed the threshold, Vox closes the door.

Easy.

While Alastor shower, Vox gets the food on plates. He takes a moment to snap a picture of the spread and the two bottles. It’ll be a nice little addition to his Voxtagram timeline and it’ll generate a little business for the restaurant.

“What are you doing?” Alastor walks up, toweling his hair. He wears one of Vox’s robes, but it’s loosely tied so the Media Overlord has a good view of the Radio Demon’s chest and waist.

“Taking a picture of food for the internet,” Vox explains and turns back to his phone, so he has an excuse not to look at the tantalizing sight of the deer demon’s skin. “See? I’ve done these enough times, so I got the wine, the food, and the logo in one shot. I’ll snap another one after we eat a few bites too.”

“Ah, this is a social media thing?”

“Yeah. Vesta’s always complaining I’m not posting enough food pics, so I thought here. Now she can’t say anything.”

“Forgive me, but wasn’t she complaining about you not positing pictures of the Voot Floops?” Alastor suppresses a laugh at the damning look on Vox’s face.

“Yeah, well,” Vox snaps. “She should have specified."

“She did specify.”

Vox pretends not to hear. “Wow, this food looks amazing! We should eat before it gets cold.”

Alastor chuckles. If Vox wanted to incite Vesta’s wrath, that was on him.

 “Now that we’re alone,” Alastor says taking his seat. “I need to tell you something.” His shadow appears next to Vox and hands him the letter. Before the fighting began, Alastor gave the letter to the shadow for safekeeping. He didn’t want to get blood on the last correspondence he might ever have again from Brother Haze. He tells the Media Overlord what happened with the statue and his failed attempt to visit the smoke demon.

         “Shit,” Vox whispers. “Alastor, I’m so sorry. Do you think the princess—”

         “I am not involving Charlie in this,” Alastor says, vehemently. He smooths down his hair. “That would only make matters worse for Haze and his people.”

         Vox stares at him. “Fuck, Al. This blows. I know how much you liked them.”

         “It’s absurd, isn’t it?” the deer demon says. He gives a little laugh. “I didn’t know these people existed until recently, but the fact I may never see them again makes me feel…” he trails off. Alastor clears his throat and passes Vox his plate. “It makes no sense.”

         “Maybe not,” Vox replies with a shrug. “Or maybe it does. Doesn’t matter. You’re upset and that’s all that matters to me.” He pulls Alastor close for a hug. “I would fight the King of Hell for you if it meant I could make your pain go away.”

         Alastor chuckles at that. “Please don’t,” he says against Vox’s neck. “I like you much better alive.”

         “Are you sure? I feel like I could take him.” Alastor can hear the grin in Vox’s voice. “Ya know, if I ambushed him when he was super drunk, blind, deaf, and had a really debilitating cold. I might stand a chance.”

         “Oh yes. I believe your chance of victory would go from non-existent to highly improbable.”

         “Aw! I knew you believed in me.” Vox kisses Alastor’s forehead. “Let’s eat this food before it gets cold or before Vark remembers he can open the door by putting his paws on the handle.”

         They’re able to eat most of their meal and have a couple glasses of wine before Vark does just that. The demon shark puts his paws on the counter and “stealthily” attempts to steal the remains of a steak that Vox left on his plate. As it’s just some fatty parts that he didn’t want anyway, Vox pretends he doesn’t see and allows the shark to savor his victory. Alastor removes his wine glass when Vark looks like he’s curious about the contents. “Absolutely not,” he tells the shark. “Here.” He smears a bit of meat drippings onto a roasted potato and tosses it. Vark sets off after it and gobbles it down in seconds.

         The rest of the evening, Vox does his utmost to distract Alastor from the Trio situation. He has Alastor sit while he puts away the food and cleans the kitchen. He and Alastor move to the bedroom where he puts on a musical for the two of them to watch. Sometime during the film, Vox gets an email and answers it on his tablet which leads to him opening up a game and playing it. Instead of being annoyed, Alastor falls asleep with an arm looped around Vox’s middle, the beeps and boops of his electronic game lulling him to sleep as easily as any song.

When Vox is sure that the Radio Demon is asleep, he minimizes his game and taps a finger against the tablet’s screen. An arch of electricity shoots from the digit and through the device. Vox’s eyes glow red as he takes control of the security cameras near the street that leads to that weird ass section of the city. Hell has cameras fucking everywhere, but they aren’t there for protection. No, most demons have cameras to record what’s happening for blackmail, insurance, or revenge. Doesn’t matter. Vox can still make use of them. He turns a storefront camera toward the street. The statue of Lucifer stands tall, right where Alastor said it would be. Vox frowns but decides to keep moving. He forces the camera as far as it can go, but it’s a bust. The stupid things at the wrong angle. The Media Overlord can’t see anything useful. With a sigh, he starts moving the camera back to its original position and almost swallows his tongue.

         Lucifer’s statue has moved from its spot and now stands in front of the camera. A pair of disapproving eyes stare at lens and a frown replaces the earlier smile.

         Holy fuck! Holy fuck! Holy fuck!

         Vox immediately disengages from the camera, shuts off his tablet, and shoves it under the bed. With a thudding heart, he turns off the lights and nestles close to Alastor.

         Alastor awakes sometime in the night when he feels a massive weight flop on top of him. He groans. “Vox, you forgot to put Vark back in his room.”

         “Um…”

         The deer demon cracks open a single eye when he hears how awake his lover sounds. “Vox?”

         “Yeah, so I sorta invited Vark into bed.” Vox whispers.

         “…why?”

         “Because I got spooked.”

         Alastor opens both eyes,  pushes Vark off him a bit so he can sit up, and turns on a light. “What happened?

         Vox doesn’t answer. In fact, the TV demon doesn’t really meet his gaze.

         “Vox.”

         “Okay, so you’re going to laugh.”

         “We’ll see.”

         “I may have done what we in the business call an ‘Oopsie’.”

         Alastor stares.

         Vox laughs nervously. “So, I got this idea of using the cameras in the area outside of the path we know leads to Brother Haze and the rest.” He twiddles his thumbs. “And I also wanted to see if the statue was there.”

         “You didn’t believe me?”

         “No! I mean, yes, I believed you, but I thought that since it did its job of scaring you off maybe Lucifer had removed it.”

         Alastor nods. He was right. The statue had appeared so suddenly that it could have easily disappeared as well. “Was it there?”

         “Oh yeah.” Vox shudders. “And it moved.”

         A chill runs up Alastor’s spine. “Come again,” he whispers.

         “Yeah, the fucker moved. I was moving the camera back into place because I couldn’t see anything and boom! It was standing right in front of the spot, staring into the lens, and frowning.”

         “Fuck,” Alastor whispers again. “Did it speak to you?”

         “Alastor, I can assure you that if that statue had spoken to me, I would have woken you up so I could strip the bed. No, it just stared at me all disapproving. I got the fuck out of there and shoved the tablet under the bed. I tried falling asleep but I couldn’t, so I went to get Vark.” Vox gives the demon shark’s flank a pat. “He’s my emotional support goober.”

         Alastor nods. “Very well, but…” he uses his magic to enlarge the bed, the process of which causes Vox’s bedside furniture to be pushed over. “There we go. Now, we’re not being crushed under your weight, Vark.”

         The shark shimmies twice to get comfortable before cradling his head on his paws. Alastor must admit he looks very cute. Vox rolls his eyes. “Don’t get used to it,” he tells the shark and points a finger in Vark’s face. “This is a onetime thing!”

         Vark licks the finger pointing at him. Vox’s attempt at a stern expression folds like a house of cards, before he presses his face against the shark’s side and cuddles him. Alastor rolls his eyes and turns off the light.

         They decide to have breakfast at the hotel.

         Not because they’re still freaked out, mind you.

         Perish the thought!

         But the two of them decide that if they were nervous (which they weren’t) Lucifer would never do anything around Charlie.

         Also, Vark hadn’t seen Fat Nuggets for a while and was clearly lonely.

         Alastor tries the front door. Hmm. Locked. Since when…?

         He stands there for a second. Vox chuckles. “Have you actually ever entered through the front door?”

         “Yes! But to avoid having to speak to others, I started teleporting directly to and from my room. Vaggie and Charlie didn’t like that. Hard to keep track of my comings and goings so they asked me to come through the door. I track bloody footsteps inside once and suddenly everyone has to know where I’ve been! Honestly!”

         The Media Overlord gives him an amused look. “It’s like they don’t trust you.”

         “Right? It’s very annoying.” Alastor sighs, dramatically. “In any case.” He summons his shadow. “Would you be so kind as to unlock the door for me? I’m afraid I left in such a hurry yesterday that I didn’t grab my key.”

         The shadow slides under the door and Alastor hears the locks disengaging. “Excellent.” He holds open the door, waiting for Vox to unclip Vark’s leash. “Be free, fishy friend,” he yells as Vark rushes by.

         “You think anyone’s awake? We’re early.”

         “Probably not, but I assume they’re mid-rousing. Give them time.”

         And sure enough, the princess and her girlfriend trudge bleary-eyed into the dining room. “Oh, Alastor,” Charlie says with a yawn. “I didn’t know you were back! Hi, Vox!”

         “Good morning, princess.”

         “Vox, please. When you’re in this hotel, I’m not the princess. I mean, I technically am but you can just call me Charlie.”

         Alastor gives the Media Overlord a sidelong glance and can practically hear the different scenarios playing in his head regarding Charlie, her father, and what her father would do if he suspected any form of disrespect towards his daughter. Vox smiles at Charlie. “I’ll think about it,” he tells her.

         “How were interviews after I left?” Alastor directs the question to Vaggie because at least she’ll be honest.

         Vaggie opens her mouth, but Charlie cuts in. “So good,” she gushes. “A lot of them show real promise!”

         Alastor nods but cuts his eyes to Vaggie.

         Vaggie gives a slow shake of her head.

         “Anyway,” Charlie drums her hands on the table. “Do you two have any plans today?” She smiles brightly. “Any romantic going-ons?”

         Niffty slides up with a tray of coffee. She sets cups in front of Alastor and Vox and pours them a steaming cup. “I want to know too! Ooh! Do you need help planning a romantic date? Because—” she sets down the tray and reaches into her shirt. She plops a stack of books onto the table. “I’ve written extensively on the subject. Would you like to read some?”

         Alastor’s eyes flick over to the mountain of books before turning his gaze away. Vox whistles at the sheer number. “How many of those don’t have sex in them,” Vox asks.

         Niffty considers the pile. She quickly sorts through the pile and puts aside four books. She picks up one and considers it before sliding it into the (much larger) pile of books that contained sex. She smiles and hands them to Vox who flips through them. Alastor shoots an incredulous look at the Media Overlord who just shrugs. “What? These are the ones with no sex. I’m just appreciating the artwork and story.”

         Charlie grins. “You two are so cute together,” she tells Alastor.

         The deer demon snorts and ignores her. It was much too early to deal with Charlie’s brightness and bullshit, especially with only one cup of coffee.

         “So,” Vox asks. “Do these only star Alastor and me or do you have other…subjects?”

         “Oooh. I have lots!” Niffty skitters off. She returns shortly pushing a cart piled high. “I have Charlie and Vaggie. Charlie and Mimzy—”

         Charlie spits out her juice. “I’m sorry what?”

         “Vaggie and Mimzy.” Niffty continues. Vaggie makes a choking noise. “Vaggie and Rosie. Rosie and Charlie.”

         “We’ve never even met Rosie!” Vaggie shouts.

         Niffty pauses. She blinks then laughs. “Silly Vaggie! I don’t need you to meet or even talk to people for me to pair you! Ha! Silly Vaggie.”

         The moth demon puts her head down on the table.

         Niffty bounces on her feet. “Wanna hear who I’ve paired with you, Mr. Alastor?”

         The deer demon shoots her a look. “Absolutely not.”

         The maid looks a little disappointed but shrugs. She points at the page Vox currently reads. “What do you think? Did I get the planes of your back right?”

         Vox frowns. “You certainly, um, got them right. Not sure how. I’m pretty sure you’ve never seen me…” He squints at Niffty. “Nevermind.”

         “Yeah, it’s better not to ask questions you’re not sure you want an answer to.” Vaggie mutters.

         “Alastor,” Charlie slides a seat next to the Radio Demon. “We should talk.”

         “No.”

         “Oh, don’t be that way.” The princess grins. She cups her face in her hands. “You and I don’t really talk. I mean, we talk but it’s usually about work or work stuff. We should be chummier.”

         Maybe if he just stays silent, she’ll get bored and wander off…

         “So, I was thinking,” Charlie drawls. “Now that you and Vox are a couple maybe we can do fun double date couple stuff.”

         Oh no.

         Alastor rubs his temples. So, this was going to be a two coffee morning, huh? “Charlie, I say this with as much civility as I can muster given how thoroughly done I am with this conversation: no.”

         Charlie pouts. “But there’s so much fun double date stuff we can do! Mini golf!”

         Alastor glances at Vox. The TV headed demon looks like he’s reading, but Alastor can see his twitching smiling mouth. “If you want to do fun ‘couple stuff’ then do them with Angel and Husker. They’re a couple.”

         Charlie pouts even harder. “We’ve done date stuff with Husk and Angel.”

         “Husk, is surprisingly good at karaoke,” Vaggie comments. “And Angel cheats at mini golf!”

         “The fuck I do!” Angel Dust takes a seat at the table. “You’re just mad because your one eye makes you hit wider than you need to!”

         Vaggie snarls. “Oh what-the-fuck-ever Sir Coughs-A-Lot!” She snaps.

         “I told you that was pollen!”

         “Oh bullshit! You conveniently needed to cough every time I was up to putt.”

         “As stirring as this all is,” Alastor interjects. “Vox and I should be on our way.”

         “But you haven’t even had breakfast yet,” Niffty points out. “Wait here!” She runs back in the direction of the kitchen.

         “I’m serious, Alastor,” Charlie leans closer and puts a hand on his arm. Alastor’s vision zeroes in on the offending appendage. “We could have so much fun doing non-hotel stuff.”

         Alastor sighs heavily. She wasn’t going to let up. “You know, I was just thinking about you and Vaggie.” He picks up one of Niffty’s books. “Oh, Niffty!”

         Niffty reappears holding a tray above her head. “Yes, Mr. Alastor?”

         “You write slice-of-life stories, correct?”

         “I do!”

         “Have you ever written one of Charlie and Vagatha getting married?”

         Vaggie pauses her argument with Angel Dust and stares at the Radio Demon suspiciously.

         “Oh boy have I!” Niffty beams.

         “Fascinating,” Alastor nods. He picks up his coffee spoon and studies it. “And what about children?”

         “Children?” Niffty says.

         “Children?” Charlie repeats.

         “Alastor,” Vaggie growls. “That’s not funny.”

         Alastor puts a hand over his heart. “I’m not trying to be funny, Vagatha. I’m simply expressing…curiosity.”

         “Children,” Charlie says again but this time in a whisper.

         “Ooh,” Niffty puts down the tray and begins sliding plates in front of them. “I must admit I’m very intrigued.”

         “Don’t,” Vaggie snaps. “Don’t encourage him!” She glares at Alastor. “I know what you’re doing! He’s just trying to deflect Charlie’s attention with this nonsen—”

         “Is it?” Charlie says.

         Vaggie pauses. She turns to her girlfriend. “What?”

         Charlie stares down at her folded hands. “Have you never…” she trails off. She clears her throat. “Have you never thought about children?”

         Vaggie’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. Angel Dust sips his coffee and looks between Charlie and Vaggie. Vox lowers the book a little and watches. Alastor – who started this bullshit – tilts his head and observes the entire debacle like it’s a fascinating play.

         “Charlie,” Vaggie sighs. “Charlie, you can’t—we can’t.”

         “But why not?” Charlie asks.

         Vaggie glares at Alastor. “Are you happy? Look at what you’ve done!”

         “Oh, don’t look at me.” Alastor says. “This sounds like a conversation that you two should have had for a while.”

         Vaggie growls at him. “You are such a—” she snarls.

         “I think we should have kids.” Charlie blurts.

         The moth demoness turns to look at the princess. “What?”

         Charlie glances around the room. Niffty has her hands over her mouth. Vox has set down the book. Angel Dust has pulled out his phone and is rapidly texting away.

 Alastor just sits back and watches.

“Charlie,” Vaggie reaches over and takes her girlfriend’s hands. “I would love kids, but it’s just not realistic.”

“But why not?”

“Yeah,” Niffty shouts. “Why not?”

“Niffty, stay out of this!” Vaggie snaps. She sighs. “Charlie, you have worked too hard. Once we get the hotel up and running then what? Charlie, I won’t let you just throw that aside for…”

“But I could be a working mom!” Charlie shouts. “I can handle it. Vaggie, just imagine it. A little family of our own.”

“Charlie, I…” Vaggie rubs her forehead. “Okay, let’s just talk this out. How would it work? You are too important and I’m very sorry to say this, but a pregnancy would hurt your image. People would have a hard time taking you seriously.”

“A harder time,” Alastor corrects.

“Alastor. Shut. Up.” Vaggie says through clenched teeth. She turns back to Charlie. “Before you ask, I’m not carrying the baby. That’s…not for me. I’m sorry. I can’t make myself – I could never –” Vaggie shudders. “I mean, even the idea of insemination…” She turns away. “Charlie, I would love to have a family with you, but it’s not realistic.”

“But what if we could?” Charlie presses. “What if we could have a child?”

Vaggie stands. “I-I’m going to go see what applicants we have coming today.”

“Vaggie?” Charlie reaches for her, but the moth demoness moves away. She walks out of the dining room.

“Well,” Alastor claps his hands. “That was something.” He smooths down his coat and grabs the strips of bacon off his plate. He munches on them as he walks by Charlie, pausing to give her a pat on the head. “Vox?”

“Yep.” Vox sets the book down. He walks by Charlie without stopping, but he does give her a glance.

The princess sits there in silence for a minute or so after both the Overlords have left. Niffty puts a plate in front of her and gives Charlie a pat on the hand.

Angel Dust sets down his phone and walks over to Charlie. He wraps his arms around her and hugs her. “For the record. I think you’d make a great mom,” he says, softly. “Vaggie too, but I think she’s just too scared to admit it.” He gives her a tiny kiss on the top of her head. “Also fuck Alastor.”

“Angel,” Charile whispers. “I super agree.”

“So,” Vox says. “You wanna talk about that?”

Alastor sighs. “I was simply trying to get her dogged attention off me. It’s not my fault she forced my hand.”

“You brought up all that baby talk because you wanted her to stop trying to get us to go on a double date outing?”

The deer demon shrugs. “She was being annoying.”

“Mm-hmm,” Vox says and nods. “Or – and hear me out – you were being a dick to Charlie because of what her dad did to Brother Haze.”

Alastor arches a brow. That wasn’t an unfair assessment but was he really that petty?

Oh, incredibly.

“I suppose I owe Charlotte and Vagatha an apology.”

“Yep,” Vox agrees.

The Radio Demon sighs. “See? This is why I don’t work with others. They have all these—” he wiggles his fingers. “ Feelings .”

“What about Niffty and Husk? You work with them.”

Alastor snorts at that. “It’s hardly the same thing.”

Vox claps a hand on Alastor’s shoulder. “Don’t worry we’ll teach you how to function around other people in a less manipulative and assholish manner.”

“Really?”

“Fuck no,” Vox laughs. “But I can teach you to fake it.”

Alastor kisses Vox on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Vox’s phone vibrates and he pulls it from his pocket. “Oh, I got a text from Vaggie. It says: ‘Tell your dickhead boyfriend that he still needs to be present for the interviews. He used up all my goodwill with his stunt’ and then she sent, like, fifty knife emojis.”

“Damn!” Alastor groans. “I wasn’t expecting to reap what I sowed so quickly!” He sighs. “Did she mention when the first interview will be?”

“I’ll ask her.” Vox taps on his phone. The message arrives shortly. “Two hours from now.”

“Ugh,” Alastor heaves a dramatic sigh. “I would much rather spend time with you, but it looks like my hands are tied”

“Yeah, if only you hadn’t pissed Vaggie off.”

Alastor nods. “Yes, if only.” He shrugs. “Well, you know what they say about hindsight!” he gives Vox a kiss. “Let’s spend what little time we have together before I’m forced to sit and listen to delusional Sinners.”

“I have an idea.” Vox pulls his phone. “I want to spend time with you, and you need to blow off some steam, right? What if we go for a hunt?”

Alastor’s heart swells. Oh, how he loves the man in front of him so much. “Oh, Vox. You have no idea how much I’d love to do that with you.” He takes the TV Demon’s hand and twirls him. “But! We are unfortunately strapped for time.”

Vox laughs and allows himself to be dipped. “Ah, ah, ah,” he says and wags a finger. “Not if we do it my way. See, I figure that instead of chasing our victims what if we tricked them into coming to us?”

“Ooh! Color me intrigued!”

“Okay hold on.” Vox points his phone at himself and grins. He records a video of himself detailing that the viewer is the winner of a grand prize and then lists the location of where they need to meet him in order to receive it. “Unfortunately,” Vox continues, “Not appearing in person will result in a forfeiture of your prize. So don’t be a sucker! Come and get it.” He ends the video. “And I just send this out to some random emails, and we wait.” Vox frowns. “Actually, let’s get some knives. I don’t think we want to make the trek back to the hotel.”

“True,” Alastor nods.

They surprisingly find a good pair of knives at a convenience store nearby. “Greeting, friend,” Alastor says to the bored looking Sinner manning the register, “I assure you we are purchasing these knives for non-murder reasons.”

Vox chuckles. “Alastor, I don’t think he gets paid enough to care.” He looks at the cashier. “Am I right?”

“Dude, they don’t pay me enough to even half ass my job,” the cashier responds. He pulls out his phone and begins watching a video. “I quarter ass this shit.”

“Good to know,” Alastor says. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

The Sinner manages a half-hearted wave before returning his blank stare to his phone.

“Do you really think this will work?” Alastor asks Vox once they’re outside.

“Alastor, my darling. Never underestimate how greedy people are.”

Alastor stops in his tracks. He looks at Vox. “Did you just call me your darling?” His ever-present grin stretches even more when Vox starts stammering and blushing.

“I thought I would give it a try,” the Media Overlord stammers. He rubs the back of his neck. “You don’t like it?”

“On the contrary,” Alastor purrs. He takes Vox’s hands and begins kissing his way up the TV Demon’s arm. “I shall have to find a pet name of my own,” he murmurs. “Something befitting you.” Alastor’s eyes gleam mischievously. “Something I know that when it’s whispered will flood that face of yours with snow and leave you at a loss for words.” He chuckles as Vox makes a strange, strangled noise. “But that’s for another time. Right now, we hunt!”

They pick an alley and wait. It surprisingly doesn’t take very long.

A Sinner walks up, phone in hand. He ignores Alastor and talks directly to Vox. “I got an email about a prize I won?”

“Over here, my good man.” Vox waves. He reaches into his coat. “I just need you to sign something right quick and the prize is yours.”

The demon’s face brightens. He runs forward. When he stands directly in front of Vox, Alastor slides up behind him and delivers a fatal stab to his gut. Vox pulls the knife he had hidden in his coat out and slashes the demon across the throat.

“Excellent,” Alastor applauds. He snaps his fingers and opens a portal. “I’ll just toss this into—”

“Excuse me.”

Both Overlords look over their shoulders. Another Sinner stands at the alley’s opening. She looks confused as she takes in the scene before her. Her confusion only grows at the sight of the corpse, but she just shrugs and takes out her phone. “It says in this email that I got a prize from Vox himself. Is that true?”

Alastor’s head whips around to Vox. The Media Overlord’s mouth falls open for a second before he composes himself. “Of course,” he says and laughs. “You’re right on time. Please come here and sign this form right quick.”

The Sinner grins and runs up. She steps over the fallen corpse and holds out her hand.

Alastor slides his knife into the back of her skull.

“Hey.”

Alastor and Vox both suppress a groan as they turn to find yet another demon standing there. For goodness’ sake, Alastor still has his knife embedded in the woman’s skull! Not this man would care. He holds up his phone. “I got this here email that says—”

Signal rises from behind the demon and snaps his neck. He drags the body forward and adds it to the pile.

“Okay,” Vox says. “I didn’t think this would work so—”

“Hi!”

“Jesus Christ,” Vox snaps. “Are you fucking with me?”

The demon cowers but doesn’t run. “Um. Sorry? I just got this email—”

“Yes, yes,” Alastor waves a hand. “We know. Come here. Vox needs you to sign something.”

“Hey,” a voice rings out. “I got an email too! Am I too late to get the prize?”

“Fuck off, buddy! I got an email too!”

“Oh, fuck both of you!” a woman screams. “If you think you’re taking my prize you’re fucking wrong!”

Vox covers his face, horrified as more and more demons show up. “Fuck,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry, Alastor.”

“Don’t worry,” the Radio Demon whispers back. “I have an idea. Gentle demons! Thank you for answering Vox’s summons. If you’d please follow me.” He pushes past them and gestures for them to follow. He leads them back to the opening of the alley and around the corner. “Now, please form a line here after taking number.” He manifests a ticket taker and his shadow pops up, making a ta-daa motion with his hands. “After your number is called, follow my shadow and he will lead to where Vox and I are waiting. We will give you your prize and you’re exit through the other end of the alley.”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” someone shouts. A Sinner stomps up and glares at Alastor. “I come all the way here and now I gotta wait in line? For a prize I’m not even sure I want?”

Alastor considers the demon. “Well, sir. You’re free to leave, but be aware that by doing so, your prize will be forfeited which will make it surplus. Meaning,” he pokes the demon’s nose. “That it will be given as an extra prize to some lucky demon.” Alastor raises his voice to the crowd. “That goes for any of you. Anyone who leaves will not get their prize and it will go to the demons that remain.”

Was he overplaying his hand? He was literally standing there with a bloody knife in his hand. Vox said not underestimate their greed, but would anyone really see all these red flags and ignore them? Could anyone really be that foolish?

The alley didn’t even have another way out.

Surely anyone with half a brain cell would have noticed.

There was no way that these demons would let their desire for this “prize” outweigh their common sense and survival instincts.

Would they?

“Oh, fuck no,” the demon snarls. He runs up to the ticket taker and pulls off a number. “I’m not letting some asshole get my prize! Fuck that shit!”

The other demons mutter in agreement and move to do the same.

Wow.

“Well,” Alastor grins. “I’ll take my place with Vox, and you can come when called.” As he turns to leave Alastor sings softly, “Bless my eyes. Fresh supplies.” Perhaps I’ll turn one of my extra rooms into a walk-in freezer…

By the time Alastor needs to return to the hotel, he has a nice pile of corpses waiting for him on the other side of his portal. There are still a few stragglers, but Vox gets rid of them by explaining that the prizes have run out and emailing them fifty percent off coupons on Vogitech products. Alastor promises to see Vox later before bidding his lover a fond goodbye. He stops in his room for just a moment. He throws a sheet over the pile of corpses and carefully tapes a paper sign with a hastily written: Do Not Touch on top. Hopefully, that will keep Niffty from peeking or disturbing the bodies before Alastor got done with his meetings. Obviously, he could have just created a freezer room and had his dolls pile the bodies inside, but currently all his rooms are being used for something and Alastor knows he needs time to select which room he’s willing to do away with.

That was Future-Alastor’s problem.

Right now, he had to go to a meeting.

Alastor makes his way downstairs and walks to Charlie’s office. Vaggie and the princess are already inside. The Radio Demon notices that they’re sitting with a chair separating them and aren’t looking at one another. Or Vaggie isn’t looking at Charlie. Charlie keeps trying and failing to catch the moth demoness’s attention.

Alastor feels a twinge of guilt. “Good day to you, ladies!” He shouts as he sweeps into the room. “Are we ready for another fun-filled day of listening to Sinners tell us their tales of woe?”

Charlie doesn’t look at him. Instead, she picks up her notebook and flips to a blank page. “Our first appointment of the day is running a little late,” she says, voice uncharacteristically flat. “She called ahead to let us know.”

“Oh.” Alastor pulls out his seat and drops into it. He glances out of the corner of his eye at Charlie then out of the other corner at Vaggie.

Well, this wouldn’t do. This wasn’t going to be any fun if the two of them were acting like this the entire time.

“For the record, I think the two of you would make fine mothers.” Vaggie shoots the deer demon a warning look which he ignores of course. Alastor drums his fingers against the table. “Have you two considered adoption?”

Charlie’s eyes and entire countenance brightens. She leans forward in her chair so she can look at Vaggie.

Vaggie keeps her eye on the applications, she’s pretending to study. She doesn’t say anything, and Charlie eventually leans back in her chair, looking like a wounded puppy.

Alastor suddenly feels a bit uncomfortable.

“…we could adopt,” Vaggie says quietly. “But according to Hell’s by-laws any member of nobility is expected to birth or sire a suitable heir to continue their bloodline. So, even if we did adopted Charlie would still need a biological child to inherit the throne.”

Alastor and Charlie both stare at Vaggie. The former in disbelief and the latter with misty-eyes.

Vaggie looks embarrassed. “Okay,” she mutters. “So maybe I used to think about us having kids and I did a little research.” She glances up and sees the way Charlie looks at her. Her face reddens. “Don’t be weird about it!”

         Charlie leans over Alastor, trying to reach for her girlfriend. “Vaggie!” she sobs. “You’re so cute!”

         “Get off me,” Alastor growls. He shoves his chair back and an off-balanced Charlie hits the floor.

         “Alastor!” Vaggie snaps and moves to help the princess.

         “What? She was touching me!” Alastor smooths down his coat. “You know how I feel about being touched!”

         Charlie gets back in her seat. She stares at Alastor. “What?” he demands.

         Charlie’s face scrunches. “You’ve been in a mood today,” she comments. “Is something wrong?”

         Fuck!

         “Nothing is wrong,” he lies. “I’m fine.”

         “You don’t seem fine.” The princess narrows her eyes. “The last time you were this antagonistic was when Vox had to go back to his tower, and you thought he’d never come back.”

         Now, it’s Alastor’s turn to blush. “That is a grossly inaccurate revision of past events, Princess! Also, I wouldn’t call my disinterest in doing activities with you and your significant other ‘antagonistic’ I was simply not interested, and you weren’t picking up on it!”

         Charlie taps a finger against her chin and continues to stare at him. Alastor hates it. Where was the air-headed princess he could distract with a puppy or an amazingly choreographed song? Observant Charlie needed to fuck off right now.

         There’s a knock on the front door.

         Charlie turns away and Alastor exhales. “Come in,” Charlie calls.

         A Sinner demoness walks in and Vaggie gestures to the seat in front of the desk. “Good day,” the Sinner says. She looks nervous. “I’m…well, I guess I should have a name by now, but I had a tough time picking one. I guess you can just call me ‘M’.”

         “Hello, Ms. M,” Charlie smiles. “Let me just say that I’m so happy that you’re considering this program. Could you tell us a little bit about your history? What events led to you ending up in Hell? I know it’s a tough subject, but we can use this information to find the best treatment plan to suit you.”

         M looks uncomfortable. “Well, I was a schoolteacher. I was happily married or –” her face darkens. “That’s what I believed. My students and I had the brilliant idea to surprise my husband with a special birthday video call. He—” The ends of her hair begin to curl like flames. “He was fucking another woman in our bed! I snapped. I drove to the house, killed him and at the time I thought I killed her, and then when the rage subsided, I realized I’d forgotten to disconnect the damned call and that my poor students saw everything and I...” she shrugs. “Well, you do the math.”

         “Murder suicide,” Alastor says and whistles. “Quite a feat.” He studies the demoness. She was the least transformed Sinner he’d ever seen. He could almost mistake her for a Hellborn. “Have you done any other evil? Before your crime of passion, of course.”

         “No,” M shakes her head. “I was a good person! You probably hear that a lot, but I mean it. I lived a good life. I volunteered, I loved my students, and I loved teaching. I was a good woman. I just…snapped.”

         Charlie gives Alastor a disapproving look. “Ms. M, I have to tell you that there’s a requirement that you must meet before we can accept you at the Hazbin Hotel. Are you sorry for what you’ve done?”

         M sits back in her chair and thinks. “I don’t know,” she says, honestly. “I think that I’m sorry that I reacted the way I did not because I hurt my husband and that slut he’s fucking behind my back, but because I hurt my children. They saw me do something awful and I can only imagine the damage that did to them.” She wipes away tears. “I didn’t have to kill them. I could have just divorced him. I was a beloved teacher! I volunteered! Played the organ at church! I caught my husband cheating because I attempted to give him a birthday present!” she throws her hands up in the air. “If I had taken his ass to court, I could’ve taken him for everything he had! Instead, I gave in to my rage and I ruined my life and the lives of my kids.” Her face falls. “Whenever they think of their Mrs. Mayberry, all they’ll remember is that she was a murderer. I hate that. I would do anything to go back and fix things.”

         Charlie nods. “Ms. M. Would you please verify the contact information you’ve left with us? We’ll review your application then contact you once we’ve reached a decision.”

         Once her information was verified, Charlie shook M’s hand and sent her on her way. When she’s gone, Charlie immediately whirls around, face alight with glee. “Oh em gee! She’s perfect!”

         Even Vaggie looks excited. “She’s the best candidate we have so far,” Vaggie squeals. She jumps up and runs to Charlie. The two of them hug and hop in excitement. “One act of violence!”

         “To be fair,” Alastor has to raise his voice to be heard. “It was a pretty substantial act of violence.”

         “Yes,” Charlie says slowly, “But! It was brought about in a fit of rage! And she regrets it!”

         “Well,” Alastor corrects. “She regrets that she did it in front of her impressionable students. I think if she could go back and kill her husband a second time, she probably would.”

         “No,” Charlie argues, “she said that she wished she went through the proper channels! That means she wouldn’t murder him!” She twirls on her toes. “You guys! I feel really good about her! I think we should give her a chance!”

         Alastor sighs because even he has to admit that Ms. M is literally their best applicant so far (the bar was pitifully low) and the first to express regret for how her actions impacted others and not just herself. “Fine,” he says. He pulls out an ink pad and stamp. He holds it out to Charlie. “Would you care to do the honors?”

         Charlie squeals and takes the pad and stamp. She carefully moistens it before pressing it down on M’s application. A bright green Approved and a check mark adorns M’s form. Charlie stares at it with a trembling bottom lip. “We should frame it!”

         “Charlie,” Vaggie says with an amused shake of her head. “We need that for her file.”

         “Oh. Yeah.” Charlie laughs sheepishly. “You’re right. Duh. Sorry. Just got a little excited.” She puts the form down but keeps her hands on it. “Our first approval! This is such a big day!”

         “Well,” Vaggie sighs and goes to retake her seat. “It’s only getting started. We got more people coming.”

         Charlie jogs back to her seat. “This is great! It can only get better from here!”

         She was wrong.

         By the time they break for lunch, all the good feelings and hope Ms. M’s interview had given them had evaporated.

         Vaggie shoves open the dining room door and presses her face against the wall. “Uuuuugh,” she groans.

         Alastor drags himself in behind her. “Agreed,” he says as he finds the nearest seat and falls into it.

         Charlie says nothing as she trails in. Her face still wears an expression of appalled disbelief courtesy of their last applicant. “I just don’t understand,” she mutters over and over. “How could anyone honestly think that they’re the victim when their actions were literal war crimes?”

         “Charlie, let it go.” Vaggie tells her. “We tossed his application. No more work talk.” She presses her hands against her girlfriend’s cheeks. “Now we eat, rest, and recharge. Okay?”

         The princess takes a deep breath, holds it, then releases it. She nods. Vaggie nods as well and kisses Charlie on the end of her nose.

         “How many more applicants do we have for the rest of the day?” Alastor asks.

         Vaggie scowls at him. “Hey! What did I say about work talk?”

         “Well, I just want to know how much more I have to suffer through!”

         The moth demon smirks. “Aw, what’s the matter Alastor? Not entertaining enough for you,” she mocks. “Well, the good news is we only got one more interview scheduled for today and then we can call it. But,” she holds up a finger. “We’ll talk about it after lunch because we are here to do what?”

         “Eat, rest, and recharge,” Charlie and Alastor recite.

         Vaggie nods and smiles.

         It was the middle of the night and Ozzie’s fucking phone vibrates.

Fizzarolli rolls over and glares at it. The Imp gives Asmodeus’ chest a tap. “Someone’s calling you,”

The Embodiment of Lust groans. “Ignore it,” he says. “It’s the middle of the fucking night. Let it go to voicemail.”

Fizzarolli waits it out and the phone eventually falls silent. He settles back down to sleep. Just as he’s about to doze off the phone starts jumping as text after text gets sent to the phone. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” the Imp harrumphs and climbs off Ozzie. He crawls over to the edge of the bed and stands so he can climb onto the phone. Ozzie stopped leaving what he affectionally called his “Imp-sized” phone on the bedside table because Fizz would stay up half the night playing games or watching videos on VoxTube. Fizzarolli uses both his hands to work the phone. “Ozz! Ozzie! Wake up! You got a missed call from Charlie!”

Ozzie groans. “I love that girl,” he mutters. “But she has a knack for calling at the worst time. Takes after her daddy. Leave it, Fizzy. Whatever it is can wait until the morning.”

Normally, Fizz would agree, but then he scrolls through the messages that Charlie also sent. His jaw drops. “Um, Ozzie? I think you might want to have a look at this.” He jumps off the phone as Asmodeus’ hand reaches for it. The Imp rolls over onto his stomach and watches as Ozzie finally stirs. Fizz always finds it fascinating watching Asmodeus wake up because his three heads never do it at the same time. The first to wake is his primary middle head and then the ram. The bull always tries to hold onto sleep the longest.

         Asmodeus taps his thumb against the screen and reads the message from his niece.

         Ozzie shoots up in the bed. “Holy fuck,” he mutters.

         “Yep,” Fizz agrees. “I’m guessing I should send out a mass text telling everyone to gather for a mandatory staff meeting tomorrow?”

         Ozzie nods mutely. He slides out of bed and leaves the room, heading to his workroom. Fizzarolli springs from the bed and over to his phone, charging on Ozzie’s dresser. He sits on the edge and starts writing the text.

Sup, bitches?

Guess what we’re doing in the morning? If you guessed a staff meeting, then you’d be right! Yes, it’s mandatory so no you can’t skip it. I’ll talk to Ozzie about supplying croissants and donuts, so you jerks whine a little less. See you in the morning!

Chapter Text

Fizzarolli reclines on a table, watching as the last stragglers finally take their seats. Some of the employees worked the previous night and since Ozzie’s doesn’t close until two, they were understandably not happy to be here.

Tough titty.

When the Big Man calls a staff meeting, you come to that staff meeting.

Speaking of Ozzie, Fizz wonders when the demon’s getting here. He said that he’d be a minute because he has to make sure “the precious cargo” was wrapped in enough padding for the trip. The Imp shrugs and helps himself to a muffin.

“Good morning, everyone,” Ozzie greets as he walks into the room. “I apologize for the suddenness of this meeting, but I needed you all here. Due to recent, unforeseen circumstances, Fizz and I will be traveling to the Pride Ring.” He waits until the murmuring dies down before continuing, “As such, I need to pick one of you to leave in charge to make sure everything runs smoothly in my absence.”

There are more than a few groans.

“A babysitter,” he hears one of the Baphomets mutter. “Why does he always assign us a babysitter?”

Asmodeus wasn’t having that shit. “You get assigned a ‘babysitter’, Vicario,” he makes finger quotes, “Because every time I leave, y’all decide to lock your collective brain cells in a box and lose the goddamned key!”

The Baphomet who made the comment, sinks down in his seat.

With a nod, Ozzie turns and reaches for a rolled piece of parchment. “Now, let me just consult my list and see which one of you has yet to damage my trust in you or your mental faculties.”

A hand raises in the crowd.

Asmodeus doesn’t so much as see it, as he senses it. “Levon if I turn around, I better not see your hand up in the air. Because I seem to recall having to cut my last vacation short because your dumbass tried to get people to build you a gold statue!”

The hand lowers.

Ozzie unfurls the scroll. There is a list of names on the scroll, sorted based on company seniority. Fizz’s name is at the very top and has not only been scratched out several times but also has the words “No” and “Never again” written off to the side in Ozzie’s handwriting (in a much smaller font someone has scrawled “Hurtful” and arrows pointing to the previous words). The further down the list you go, the more names have been scratched out. Ozzie taps a finger against the first unmarked name he comes to. “Syrenia, come on up!”

Syrenia, a succubus/Imp hybrid lets out a squeal as she hops up from her seat. Asmodeus smiles down at her. She’s been with the company for three years and she’s a hard worker. She mostly sticks to herself, but she’s friendly enough to her coworkers.

Ozzie’s got a good feeling about her.

Syrenia stares up at the Embodiment of Lust as he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a ring of keys. Her eyes go misty as he lowers them into her waiting hands.

Syrenia marvels at the weight. “Yes,” she whispers. “Yes! With this newfound power you will all finally give into my demands!”

Oh, goddamnit.

“Wow,” Fizz comments from where he’s lounging on the table. “That’s gotta be a record.”

If he were in a better mood, Ozzie would be inclined to agree but right now he’s too pissed. “Syrenia, give me back the keys.” He yelps when she uses her Impish agility to skitter away. “Syrenia!”

“I shall be an awe-inspiring queen,” Syrenia screams as she continues to evade capture. There’s a wild light in her eyes. “All shall pay tribute and I shall rain down blessings in the form of priority days off and preferred shift schedules!” She scales a wall using the curtains.

“Girl, if you don’t get down from there!”

Syrenia runs along the lighting rig. “Yes! You will pay tribute to me!” she screams. Asmodeus doubles in size and reaches for her. She comes to the end of the rig and starts yelling at the people gathered below. She’s so busy doing that she doesn’t notice Ozzie’s giant hand getting closer. “Cookies! Pies! Pastries of all shapes and sizes! A bounty for your new queen!”

Ozzie blinks. “Wait,” he says. “Is that all you want? Baked goods? No statues? No virgin sacrifices? No indentured servitude? No orgies?”

“No!” Syrenia howls. “I have no need for those things! What I crave is the flakiest of desserts and the sweetest of confections!”

Ozzie stares at her. Dare he hope?

 “And what if someone can’t bake,” he asks. Better safe than sorry.

“Store bought is fine! But not from the bakery on 11th because their staff has the worst hygiene!”

Ozzie shrinks back down. He grabs Fizzarolli and puts him on his shoulders. “Right. Syrenia’s in charge until I get back. Syrenia, make sure to advertise half-priced drinks to attract back the business we lose when Fizz doesn’t work. Also, make sure to get Wally some extra help until we get back. Hire some temp staff if you need to.”

“Yessir, Mr. Asmodeus,” Syrenia says and salutes. “I will be a good and just queen.”

Beggars can’t be choosers. And honestly, if all she wants is fucking lemon bars and whatnot then Ozzie could do a lot worse. A lot worse.

Vox exits the elevator of Vox Media and tries to head in the direction of his office only to find his way blocked by Vesta. The bat demoness wears a vibrant red sweater dress with matching heels, and nail polish. She’s even completed the look with a fake red rose pinned into her hair. Vox almost compliments her, but the dour expression she wears stops him. “Vesta, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to say I wasn’t here when this happened,” she scowls. “Cuz I sure as shit wouldn’t have let it. Briar wasn’t here either. A new girl’s manning the desk.” She pauses.

Vox winces. “Okay,” he says slowly. He suddenly feels on edge. Vesta’s not one to make excuses. Who or what was waiting for him in his office? “Vesta, who’s here?”

“Johannes Kilznib.”

The Media Overlord sputters with laughter. “Jesus Christ, Vesta! You had me freaking out for nothing. Look, the guy’s a prick but I can handle him.”

“And Valentino.”

No.

Vox’s blood runs cold. “What,” he asks, and his voice is barely audible. “What?”

Vesta holds up her hands. “I have no idea what he’s doing here, but he came in with Kilznib.”

“I don’t care if he came in with Lucifer himself,” Vox begins with a snarl. He takes a moment to settle down.

Deep breath, Vox. In and out.

“Okay, first? Fire the dumb bitch who let him in.” He swallows and takes a moment to steady himself. “I can do this,” Vox whispers. He wipes a hand down his face. “I can do this,” he repeats. “I’m a fucking professional. It’ll take more than a rat-faced bastard to rattle me. This is my company! He doesn’t call the shots, I do!” The TV Demon straightens his back and walks toward his office. Vesta walks behind him, keeping pace and though he doesn’t say it out loud, Vox is grateful for her presence.

Vox walks into his office and refuses to so much as acknowledge the other two demons until he’s seated behind his desk. It’s a polished black stone monster with a high back chair situated before a wall of computer monitors and televisions. Vox keeps his office cold for the sake of his many towers and modems. He takes a seat and stares at the two men or more aptly at one of them. “Mr. Kilznib, while it’s always nice to see you, I’d much prefer if you scheduled appointments beforehand.” Vox grimaces. “You lucked out that I was even in the building.” Reluctantly, his eyes move to Valentino who smirks at him. “Mr. Valentino,” he tries to keep his tone civil. “I’m surprised to see you here. What business do you have at Vox Media?”

Valentino’s eyes widen then narrow. “Oh, so I’m ‘Mr. Valentino’ now?” He scoffs. “So formal, Voxxy. You used to beg me to visit you at work. Now you’re acting like I’m a nuisance.”

Vox stares at him. He won’t rise to the bait.

Valentino smirks. He leans over in his seat and places his upper arm around Kilznib’s shoulder. “If you must know, Johannes invited me. We met at my club last night and hit it off.”

“Good for you,” Vox tells him. “I don’t see why—”

Valentino holds up a hand. “See, he really loved my dancers. Approached me about hiring some of them for the dance scene of his film.”

Vox tears his eyes away from Valentino to look at Johannes Kilznib. Kilznib wasn’t a tall demon, but he was muscular. Unfortunately for him, it was useless gym muscle that served no real purpose other than making him look attractive. The Sinner demon boasts a full head of slicked back greenish-black hair, forest green skin, and the round yellow eyes of an owl. Everything about Kilznib was carefully constructed so that he always looked in control. No hair out of place, no wrinkles in his clothes, and no smudges on his shoes.

“Mr. Kilznib,” Vox says sternly. “Why would you need to hire dancers? There’s no musical number. We scrapped it.”

Kilznib’s mouth twitches down in a frown. In a voice that was higher than you’d expect he says, “ You scrapped it, but after talking to Valentino, I decided to add it back in. You’re welcome.”

Vox looks between Valentino and Kilznib. “What? Mr. Kilznib with all due respect, there’s no place for a musical number. It would be a complete tonal whiplash with the rest of the film.” Listen to me you stupid idiot! Vox thinks, hoping the words will somehow beam their way through Kilznib’s thick skull.

Kilznib waves a hand dismissively. “We can worry about that stuff in post.”

Vox swallows down a scream because no they fucking can’t! “Mr. Kilznib, there’s no room in the budget—”

“And I’ve been thinking,” Kilznib states, speaking over Vox. “I think I should make some changes to the script. Why are we using a green screen for the ocean chase scene? Why not film at the beach? Practical effects! And I think we should have the scene where I fistfight Lord Roboticus Diabolical on a train changed to a zeppelin! Zeppelins are much cooler, plus it’ll look way more impressive when the fireworks go off behind me during my musical number!”

How many fucking musical numbers did he want? No. Nope. Time to nip this in the bud. “Mr. Kilznib,” Vox grinds out. “We can’t have a musical number, nor can we change the train scene to a zeppelin. The VFX people have been working tirelessly on the train scene and you just want them to start working on a zeppelin scene?”

“No!” Kilznib looks at Vox like he’s a fool. “I’m saying we get a zeppelin. A real one! Film on top of it! None of the CGI bullshit! That’s so overdone! Practical effects are where it’s at, baby!”

Vox doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He just sighs. “Mr. Kilznib, I don’t think we have room in the budget to hire a zeppelin. Also, it wouldn’t work with the scene. You’re supposed to go through a tunnel. Remember? You use the sudden darkness to gain an advantage during your fight.”

“Wow,” Valentino suddenly says. He’s been silent this entire exchange, but he pipes up. “It sounds to me like Vox isn’t creative enough to handle your vision so he’s trying to neuter it instead.” The moth pimp shakes his head and tsks. “Are you going to let him castrate your creativity like that?”

The TV demon’s jaw drops. What the fuck was he doing? He risks a glance at Vesta to see she’s just as clueless as him. “Mr. Valentino, please keep your input to yourself.” Vox snaps.

“No,” Kilznib interjects. “He’s right! I keep bringing all these awesome ideas to the table and you just shoot them down! You don’t have vision, Vox! I’m paying for this movie—”

“Half,” Vox snaps before he can stop himself. “You are paying for half of this movie and I’m paying for the rest of it!”

“Wow,” Valentino scoffs. “Does he always do that? Throw his money in your face like that? Talk about disrespectful!”

Vox has had enough. He slams his hands down on his desk. “Why the fuck are you even here, Valentino?!” he demands. “Is he giving you a part in the film? Is that it, huh?”

Valentino bares his teeth in a mean-spirited grin. “Oh no, Voxxy. You misunderstand. Only my dancers will be in the movie. I won’t even be in the credits. I’m humble like that.”

Vox narrows his eyes. Humble and Valentino didn’t mesh. Something was up.

Kilznib snaps his fingers to get the Media Overlord’s attention back on him. “You are always shooting down my great ideas,” he whines. “So, here’s the deal. You get no more creative say-so. It’s all me now.”

Vox’s jaw drops. Behind him, Vesta lets out a small, horrified gasp.

Kilznib pulls out three massive binders and drops them on Vox’s desks. “ These are all the changes I want to make. Valentino looked at them and he said they sounded great.” He grins. He opens one of the binders and begins reading what he wants done.

            As Johannes Kilznib reads, Vox turns to stare numbly at the moth demon. Valentino wears the smuggest smile. He wasn’t just the cat that ate the canary—he ate the whole goddamned aviary.

And as Kilznib reads off all the increasingly ridiculous changes all while Valentino smirks and keeps his eyes trained on Vox, it slowly occurs to him why the moth demon is here.

Alastor slips off his shoes and puts his feet up on his couch. He had been fully prepared to suffer through more interviews, but a frazzled looking Charlie had gotten with them at lunch, thrown up her hands, and declared she was rescheduling them because “she was in no mood.” He and Vaggie had looked at one another but said nothing. A rare moment of agreement where they wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

The deer demon glances toward the safe. Perhaps he should text Vox?

Just as Alastor rises to go do that, there’s a banging at his door. He sighs.

Charlie must have changed her mind. Ah, well. He knew it was too good to be true.

Alastor opens his door and is greeted by the sight of none other than Vesta Inqewell and Briar. “Mr. Alastor,” Vesta sobs and Alastor steps back lest he be hit with her inky teardrops. “I’m so sorry!”

“Now, now, Miss Inquewell,” Alastor tries to calm her. “Tell me what’s wrong and maybe I can help.”

“Vox is missing!”

Alastor’s throat goes dry. “He’s what?”

Vesta cries harder so Briar takes over. “He was having a supremely shitty day. Got ambushed by Johannes Kilznib and—”

“And this Kilznib fellow attacked him?”

Briar blinks. “Wha? No! No, not that kinda ‘ambush’, I just meant he showed up unannounced and—”

“And he brought Valentino with him!” Vesta interrupts. “Vox was completely blindsided!”

“But he handled it well,” Briar interjects.

Vesta nods emphatically. “Oh, yeah! He was super professional! But,” and here her bottom lip starts to wobble. “It was so bad!”

Alastor listens as the two PA’s detail the events leading to Vox’s disappearance. Kilznib demanding ridiculous and over-the-top changes to the already heavily marked up script and production. Vox having to sit there as both his attempts to offer input were ignored outright and as Valentino sat there acting as Kilznib’s personal yes-man. The moth demon encouraged every absurd thing the other demon spouted and encouraged him to go even bigger.

“I don’t understand,” Alastor says. “What would Valentino gain from encouraging this Kilznib fellow? Aren’t his dancers going to be in the film? It sounds like this movie will be utter garbage. You’d think he wouldn’t want to be involved.”

Vesta scowls. “That’s the thing. He’s not. At least not on paper. He’s not asking to be in the credits, so his name isn’t attached. Vox’s name will be all over this hot garbage and that’s the problem!”

Briar nods. “This movie is going to bomb so hard they’ll need to make up a new term for it! Valentino knows that and that’s why he’s going along with whatever bullshit Kilznib says! Not only is Vox going to hemorrhage money on this fiasco, but it’ll be a stain on his record.”

Vesta nods. “I mean, that’s not to say he’s never had a bomb in his entire career but never one of this magnitude. It would make him a laughingstock! Damage his cred for decades!”

Alastor suddenly understands. Valentino can’t hurt the Media Overlord physically, but he’s managed to find a way that does almost as much damage. “You said you lost him?”

Vesta nods. Fresh tears bead at the corners of her eyes. “After those two scrotum goblins left, he just sat there. I’d never seen him so quiet. He looked so dejected. Then all of a sudden, he just stands up and starts walking. I tried to follow him. I tried calling after him, but he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t look at me. Alastor, he’s not picking up his phone. Briar went to his tower and he’s not answering the door! The last time he got like this—”

Alastor’s teeth clench. “The last time?”

Briar and Vesta exchange a look. “It was a while ago,” Briar explains. “After his first big break up with Valentino,” he swallows. “That, um, resulted in a cracked screen…”

“We didn’t hear from him for days,” Vesta whispers. “He just goes silent and disappears.” She wipes her face. “We thought – we thought that when he disappeared this last time, he was just doing his usual thing, but then we found out that Valentino almost killed him—” she starts to bawl. “What if that fucker doubled back?”

Alastor’s heard enough. He puts a hand on their shoulder. “I will find Vox,” he promises. “Both of you go home. I will take care of this.” He gives them a reassuring smile. When they leave, Alastor closes the door. He presses his forehead against the cool wood and thinks.

            His blood boils and all he can do is think about how he wants to tear out Valentino’s throat with his teeth.

            Fucker!

            His claws extend and drag along the wood of the door.

            Kill him! Kill him!

            His bones snap and twist. Oh, how he wants to find Valentino. Oh, how he wants to make him suffer!

            His shadow snaps his fingers in Alastor’s ear. He chitters disapprovingly.

            The Vox Not-Creator needs us , he reminds Alastor.

            He’s right.

            Alastor swallows down his rage for the moment. He needs a clear head. “Is Signal near Vox?”

            His shadow closes his eyes. He re-opens his eyes. Close, but not together. They are in the same vicinity. His shadow lets out a distressed chitter and adds, Signal is upset. Something is wrong with the Vox.

Well, that’s all Alastor needs to hear. He grabs his shadow’s hand and the two of them waste no time getting to Vox’s tower.

They find Signal racing along a wall, shrieking loudly. The shadow stops when he sees them and flies over to them. Alastor watches and waits patiently as the two shadows converse.

His shadow looks confused. Signal says that Vox has gone to his Quiet Place.

Alastor glances at Signal. “What does that mean?”

Signal floats back to the wall where he’d been earlier and points. Signal forms legs and stands exactly as Vox would. He slides a hand against it and presses his palm against an area slightly above his head, revealing a switch.

The wall splits revealing a door. Signal points again and glides ahead.

Alastor follows.

The door opens to a squat, dimly lit hallway. It doesn’t seem to match the rest of Vox’s building. The brick walls look older and are covered with slick moss.

It’s so cold.

As they travel, Signal chitters and clicks. His shadow translates what the other shadow says.

Vox goes to the Quiet Place when he’s upset. Signal doesn’t like it. The Quiet Place is mean.

            “Wait, how can a place be mean?” Alastor whispers.

            His shadow shrugs.

            Odd.

            Signal comes to an abrupt stop. He suddenly lets out a low chirr and moves to hide behind Alastor’s shadow. Alastor’s shadow puts a comforting arm around the other specter. That way , he tells Alastor.

            The Radio Demon moves forward. He comes to a halt in front of what could only be described as a hole. He crouches down and crawls through the opening. Icy air blasts the deer demon in the face and his nose starts to run. He ignores it and keeps moving. Once he’s crawled a few feet through whatever tunnel that was, he’s able to stand once more. Alastor looks around. He doesn’t see Vox in this area, but he can see a soft glow further away around what has to be a corner.

            Oh, he doesn’t like this.

            Alastor walks on.

            As he gets closer to the light, Alastor becomes aware of a strange noise. It reminds him of static but it’s not the static of a radio with which he’s accustomed.

            Alastor rounds the corner and what he sees makes him utter an involuntary cry of shock.

            There’s a massive wall of TV screens facing Alastor. These are both the source of the static and the glowing. Vox sits unmoving on the floor, his back against a brick wall to the left.

            “Oh, Vox…” he whispers. “What is all of this?”

            Vox doesn’t answer, not that Alastor would expect him to in his current state. The TV Demon is completely nude. His clothes have been discarded around him with nary a care. Thick, silvery metallic cables sprout from the brick walls behind Vox and wrap around him, seemingly restraining him. Alastor moves closer and realizes that the cables have not only wrapped around the other Overlord but are embedded in the flesh of his back, arms, and thighs. A longer cable that looks like it comes from the ceiling is attached to the back of Vox’s head. At first, the deer demon thinks they’re there to restrain Vox but as Alastor watches, he notices they methodically constrict and release as if pumping something into him.

            No. No, that isn’t right.

            Only some of them appear to be pumping something into him…

            The rest are draining him…

            Alastor tastes the sour beginnings of bile and fights the urge to vomit. He moves over to Vox and kneels so he can get a closer look. Alastor doesn’t know how the cables have attached themselves to Vox, but they appear to go deep. Alastor can see blood trickling from the areas of their insertion. “Vox? Vox, can you hear me?” He tries to lift the TV Demon’s head. Vox’s face has the same static playing on the other screens. He doesn’t respond to Alastor’s touch. “Vox?” Alastor doesn’t bother hiding the panic in his voice. This entire situation is beyond him. “Vox, are you in there?”

            [Hello.]

            Alastor’s head whips around. He looks for the source of the voice. “Hello? Is there someone here?”

            [Oh, yes. I’m here with you. Who are you? You’re new. I don’t think we’ve met.]

            Alastor looks around the room. There isn’t enough space for someone to be hiding in a corner. “Where are you?”

            [I’m here.]

            Alastor’s heart thunders in his chest. No. No. No. He looks at the wall of televisions.  He stares at the screens, straining his eyes until they ache.

There!

He can make out something long and lithesome writhing just within the static. “You’re in there?”

            The voice laughs. [Oh, you’re very clever. I like you. Yes, I am here. Hello. What brings you here?]

            Alastor licks his lips. He has no idea what this thing is, but he needs to play his cards right. “I came here for Vox. Is he in there?”

            [Yes, he is. He’s moving around. He likes the quiet and numbness. Vox spends time here when he’s upset.]

            “I see…” Alastor turns his gaze down to his lover’s limp form. Something occurs to him, and it makes him shiver. He turns back to the screens. “Does Vox know you’re in there with him?”

            There’s more laughter. [Oh, I like you! You’re very clever! No, he’s not aware I’m here with him.] the voice chuckles. [I’m following him right now. I stay just out of sight. In the corner of his vision. Always following.]

            Alastor feels nauseated. “Please, let him go.”

            [He’ll leave. Eventually.]

            “You can’t keep him there!”

            The disembodied voice snorts. [ I’m not keeping him here. He comes here of his own free will. When the world out there becomes too much, he comes here and embraces the quiet and solitude.] It sounds amused. [Well, what he thinks is solitude. Vox voluntarily comes here when he wants to go numb.]

            “What are you?”

            [I am what occurs from the constant mixing of technology and magic.] Alastor can hear its amusement. [I guess you can say that Vox created me even if he’s unaware of it.]

            Signal and Alastor’s shadow float into the room. Vox’s shadow hisses at the TVs. [Ugh. You brought that nasty thing with you. What an awful creature.]

            Alastor feels desperate. “Please. Let Vox go. I can make him promise not to come here again. He won’t bother you.”

            The voice sighs. [And here I thought you were clever. I told you. I am not keeping Vox here. He comes here himself. Eventually, he leaves. When he leaves depends entirely on him. And why would I want him to stay away? His sorrow and pain nourish me.]

            Alastor snarls at that. “I knew it! You’re a parasite!”

            The creature tuts. [No need to be rude. Perhaps I am a parasite, but if I am then you have only Vox to blame. Although,] he can hear a smile in its voice. [I bet you’ve created parasites of your own. There are probably some unintentional nasties that you’ve given birth to running around in Hell’s lost places. You must be proud.]

            Alastor’s had enough of this. He goes over to Vox. He’ll rip those cables free and carry the TV Demon out of this accursed place.

            [Oh, I wouldn’t do that. I don’t know what would happen if Vox got forcibly removed. Maybe he’ll be fine or maybe you’ll turn him into a vegetable. That cable is in his head.]

            Alastor lets his hands fall to his side. “What do you want?” he hisses.

            [I told you. Vox feeds me. He hasn’t been back in some time. I was afraid he didn’t need this place anymore.]

            The deer demon looks around. “What is this place?”

            [Vox calls it his Quiet Place. He comes here when he’s feeling overwhelmed or in pain. Something must have happened that upset him quite a bit.]

            “Can I see him? Is he hurt?”

            [No and no. You’re only allowed inside if you’re attached, and you are not. But I can fix that.]

            A cable lowers from the wall. The end of it sprouts a three-inch needle. It hovers in front of Alastor’s face. [Let me in.]

            Alastor takes several steps back. “Absolutely not. Are those your doing?” he points at the cables restraining Vox.

            [Mm. Yes and no. The original designs came from Vox himself. The poor man thinks he deserves the extra pain. Between you and me, he’s got some issues. When I came along, I just decided to hijack them. I take away the pain of his feelings and he basks in the Nothing. It’s a good deal.]

            Alastor moves to Vox’s side. “How long does he usually stay?”

            [It depends. The longest was a week. That was a good meal.]

            Alastor takes a seat next to Vox. He takes the other demon’s hand in his, slotting their fingers. “I know you can’t hear me but know this: I’m not going to let you stay here alone. I will wait here.”

            [Bleh. I didn’t know you were such a sentimental creature. How boring!]

            Alastor glares at him. “I will tell Vox about you, creature.” He snarls.

            Instead of being frightened, the creature sounds delighted. [Oh! How exciting! Yes, tell him about me! I would love to see what happens. Will he allow my presence to frighten him off or will his desire to numb away his pain and feelings bring him back for more?]

            “There won’t be a next time.”

            [Oh, there’s always a next time. I assure yo – oh. What’s he doing? Is he going back to the edge? Already? He hasn’t been here that long. Does he sense you? He must sense you. That’s boring. You’re both so boring.]

            Vox begins to stir. The cables pull out of him and Alastor stares in disbelief at the wounds left behind. When the needles yank free, they bleed freely, and Alastor feels sympathy pains. The cable in Vox’s head releases with a click and retracts.

            Vox lifts his head and turns to look at Alastor. Shame washes over his face. “Oh, Alastor,” he whispers. “I really wished you hadn’t seen me like this.”

            Alastor doesn’t know where to hug him or shake him. “We will talk about it later.” He glances behind Vox. “We should go.”

            Vox looks surprised. “Why?” He looks back at the screens. “Oh, don’t worry about those. They turn off eventually.” He gets to his feet. Alastor sees how shaky he is and offers his support. “Thanks.”

            “Vox,” Alastor says carefully. “Was there anything in there? With you?”

            “In there with me?” Vox repeats the words. A look flits across his face. A memory of something that’s there and gone in a flash, replaced by a glazed expression. “No, Alastor,” he says in a dull, almost mechanical tone. “I go there to be alone. There’s no one there with me. I go there to be alone.”

            Alastor sees that writhing beneath the static and his insides twists. “Of course. Let’s go. Signal? Would you mind grabbing Vox’s clothes? Thank you.” He leads Vox away.

            Alastor notes how weak the other Overlord appears. He can feel tremors running through Vox’s body and can hear the labored nature of his breathing.

            When he gets Vox safely back to the main part of the penthouse, Alastor thinks about taking him over to the couch but stops.

            No.

            Vox needs another location far from this one.

            “How about we spend some time at the Hotel?” Alastor keeps his voice chipper. “That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

            Vox looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t have the strength to argue. Alastor’s more than happy to take advantage of that. He opens a portal and takes them through it. They arrive in Alastor’s bedroom. He carefully leads Vox to the bed and lays him down. “I’m going to clean your wounds,” Alastor says softly.

            Vox shakes his head. “No, need. They’ll close up.”

            “Those cables were stabbing straight through you!”

            Again, Vox shakes his head. He takes Alastor’s hand and places it on one of the injuries. Alastor’s brows knit when he feels something just beneath Vox’s skin. “Vox, what is that?”

            “Ports,” Vox explains. He smiles sleepily. “Got them on my back too. When I’m not using them, they kinda sink? I guess? They move deeper into my body and the skin regrows. Think of them like a piercing that I have to keep reopening.” He laughs at that. “I swear, they look worse than they actually are.”

            Alastor stares at him. “Vox, tell me about the place you go. I wish to understand why you would choose to go there. Help me understand.”

            Vox shrugs. Signal and Alastor’s shadow show up with a basin of water and towels. Signal dips a towel into the water then presses it against one of Vox’s wounds. “Ouch! Signal! Too hot! The water’s hot!” When Signal shrinks and hangs his head, Vox lowers his voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. The water’s just a little hot. Look, Al. I know that from an outsider’s perspective what you saw was a little…weird.” He grimaces. “But it’s not bad, I swear!” Vox sees Alastor’s expression. “Okay so after I hook up, I’m taken inside, and it feels great. There’s nothing there. No one there. Silence and solitude. Me and my thoughts. I just walk and–well, maybe walk is the wrong word. I know I’m technically not walking because I don’t get tired or move, but I call it walking. So, I walk and walk until whatever bad feeling I’m feeling drains away.”

            Alastor looks over as Signal floats up. He dips a hand into the water. “Much better,” he tells Signal. “Vox, listen to me,” he says, returning his attention to the TV headed demon. “That place is wrong. It’s…” he stops. Should he tell him? “Vox, it’s not safe.”

            “Alastor, it’s perfectly safe. I’ve been going there off and on for years.”

            And at the mention of this, the Radio Demon feels a flash of anger. “And let’s talk about that, shall we?”

            Vox turns a dazed expression to the deer demon. “Wait. Alastor, are you mad at me?”

            “Yes! Well, maybe not mad as I am upset with you! I understand that you were upset, Vox, but you can’t just disappear! You could have been gone for days and none of us—not me, not Vesta, and not Briar—would have known where you were. You can’t just do that!” Alastor puts his hands on Vox’s shoulders. “We promised to talk, Vox. Remember? We promised to talk when we had problems. Please, don’t run from me.”

            Vox nods. “I’m sorry, Alastor. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

            “It wasn’t just me who was worried. You need to apologize to Vesta and Briar. You do realize what happened the last time you disappeared for multiple days with no notice?” He nods at Vox’s expression of horror. “Exactly. So, call them, apologize, and take the fully deserved earful Miss Inquewell is going to give you. Tomorrow," he adds. “Because today you need rest.”

            Signal chirrs and finishes wiping away the blood. He gives Vox a worried look. The TV demon gives the shadow’s hand a pat. “I’ll be fine. Just let me get some sleep.”

            Alastor starts to stand but feels a hand around his wrist. Vox looks up at him, imploringly. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you mind staying? I know it’s early.” He frowns. “Never mind. I forgot you got interviews.”

            “As a matter of fact,” Alastor begins to remove his tie and coat. “Our interviews have been rescheduled for tomorrow. My day is free.” He slips off his shoes before sliding into bed next to Vox. He wraps his arms around the other Overlord.

            When Alastor wakes later that night, he discovers he’s alone.

            Vox is gone and in his place is a note.

            Alastor sits up and unfolds said letter.

Meet me in the dining room.

            He arches a brow but moves to do just that.

            Alastor finds Vox standing beside his dining room table near a mountain of wrapped gifts. The Media Overlord is fully dressed and looks much better. He grins at Alastor and waves. “Hey, Alastor! Come here.”